It had been a trying day. About this time,—namely, in November, 1703— while young Trenchard was in Lancashire, and his sister in London, on a visit, he received a certain communication from his confidential servant, Davies, which, at once, destroyed his hopes. A single blanket constituted his sole covering at night. " As he said this, the carpenter patted the cheek of the little object of his benevolent professions, and, in so doing, unintentionally aroused him from his slumbers. Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess.
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