On Wednesday, about two o’clock in the afternoon, by my father’s death, I was left one of the most wretched orphans that ever lived.  Not only indifferent and dispassionate persons, but even some of the most cruel of mine enemies themselves, seem to have had at least some small compassion for me.  Soon after my father’s death I had all his keys, except that of his study, which I had before committed to the care of the Rev. Mr. Stevens of Fawley, my dear unhappy uncle, delivered to me.  This gentleman and another of my uncles visited me that fatal afternoon.  This occasioned such a moving scene, as is impossible for any human pen to describe.  After their departure, I walked like a frantic distracted person.  Mr. Skinner, a schoolmaster in Henley, who came to see me, as I have been since informed, declared that he did not take me to be in my senses.  So that no stress ought to be laid on any part of my conduct at this time.  Nor will this at all surprise the candid reader, if he will but dispassionately consider the whole case, and put himself in my place.  I had lost mine only parent, whose untimely death was then imputed to me.  Tho’ I had no intention to hurt him, and consequently in that respect was innocent; yet there was great reason to fear, that I had been made the fatal instrument of his death—­and that by listening to the man I loved above all others, and even better than life itself.  I had depended upon his, as I imagined, superior honour; but found myself deceived and deluded by him.  The people about me were apprized, that I entertained, and not without just reason, a very bad opinion of them; which could not but inspire them with vindictive sentiments, and a firm resolution to hurt me, if ever they had it in their power.  My cook-maid was more inflamed against me than any of the rest; and yet, for very good reasons, I was absolutely obliged to keep her.  My mother’s maid was disagreeable to me; but yet, on account of money due to her, which I could not pay, it was not then in my power to dismiss her.  But this most melancholy subject I shall not now chuse any farther to expatiate upon.  I have brought down the preceding narrative to my father’s death, where I at first intended it should end.  Besides, I have now not many days to live, and matters of infinitely greater moment to think upon.  May God forgive me my follies, and my enemies theirs!  May he likewise take my poor soul into his protection, and receive me to mercy, through the merits of my Mediator and Redeemer, Jesus Christ, who died to save sinners!  Amen.

The foregoing narrative, which I most earnestly desire may be published, was partly dictated and partly wrote by me, whilst under sentence of death; and is strictly agreeable to truth in every particular.

MARY BLANDY.

Witness my hand.

Signed by Miss Mary Blandy, in the Castle at Oxford, April 4, 1752, in presence of two Clergymen, members of the University of Oxford.