The first Sense of Sorrow I ever knew was upon the Death of my Father, at which time I was not quite five Years of Age…. I went into the Rm. where his Body lay, and my Mother sat weeping alone by it.… She was a very beautiful Woman, of a noble Spirit, and there was a Dignity in her Grief, amid all the Wildness of her Transport, which, methought, struck me with an instinct of Sorrow, which, before I was sensible of what it was to grieve, seized my very Soul, and ha made Pity the Weakness of my Heart ever since. The Mind in Infancy is, methinks, like the Body in Embrio, and receives Impressions so forcible, that they are as hard to be removed by Reason, as any Mark with which a Child is born is to be taken away by any future Application. Hence is, that Good-Nature in me is no merit; but having been so frequently overwhelmed with her Tears before I knew the Cause of any Affliction, or could draw Defenses from my own Judgment, I imbibed Compassion, Remorse, and an unmanly Gentleness of Mind, which has since insnared me into Ten Thousand Calamities, and from whence I can reap no Advantage. (2)