Mr. Cranstoun came to our house in the beginning of August, or latter end of July, staid with us some months, and then he said he was obliged to go for Scotland.  My father seemed not pleased with him at first, but they parted in great friendship, I thought; and I received a letter from Cranstoun (which is now among my papers) full of respect and tenderness for my father.  But soon after he was gone my father, who had either heard some ill of him, or was tired of so long an affair, told me to let Mr. Cranstoun know, that I should wait the next Sessions; but he must not come to his house till his affairs in Scotland were settled.  I obeyed his commands, and had a letter full of love, and seeming misery, back in answer to mine; that he found that he had lost my father’s love, and feared he should mine too.  He got his mother and sisters to write to my father, and seemed to do all in his power to force him to love him.

Some time after this he sent me word, that he had met with his old friend Mrs. Morgan in Scotland, and that he would get some of those powders he had before; and begged of me, if I loved him, to give them to my father; for that they would make him kind to us again in this affair, and make him stay with patience till the next Sessions; when, upon his word, the appeal should be lodged.  I wrote him back word, I did not care for doing it, lest it should hurt my father’s health.  He wrote me word, that it was quite innocent, and could not hurt him; and how could I think that he would send any thing to hurt a father of mine? and that self-interest would be reason enough lor him to take care of his health.

Now, in this place, I must beg to clear up one thing, that I imagined my poor father rich, and that Mr. Cranstoun did the same.  As to myself, it is, by all that’s good, false.  I have often told Mr. Cranstoun, I knew my father was not worth what the world said; but that if he lived I did not doubt but he would provide for us and ours, as his business was so great, and life retired.  I then supposed that Mr. Cranstoun meant, by saying, that his own interests would make him careful, to refer to such discourse.

Mr. Cranstoun’s having then such strong reasons to know how necessary my father’s life must be, and I believing his honour to be so great, and that his love was still greater; these were the reasons of my not mistrusting that the powder would hurt my father, if I mixed it with his tea.  It not mixing well, I threw it away, and wrote him word, I would not try it again, for it would be discovered.  This they bring against me.  But is it not, reasonable to imagine, that if any person was to discover that a powder had been given them, to force them to love anyone, would not a discovery of this nature produce a very different effect?  Would it not fix resentment?  This would have been, at that time death to me; such was my opinion of Cranstoun, and for this reason I used the aforesaid words.