VOL. I.--NO.IO.
I returned home one night and found l the bailiffs al my threshold. Our man.

 sion in town was sold, and We rented q pleasant cottage in Hampstead. Here, If l would not have been more remorse- less than the grave, Ishould have paused upon my dark career. But l was too

 much depraved. l became more and

 more estranged from the angel of my

 youth; ] repulsed her oyerliowing af

 lection, and saw her fading away under

 the Influence of my cruelty. She had

 renounced fashionable life for my sake,

 and If had been our intention to return to America, whither her parents had aifesdjj iifesdjj gone, expecting us soon to ioi- f l.

 low.

 Let me be brief As opened. one

 moonlight evening, the little gate that led up to our Hampstead residierier, saw Emile leaning upon the shoulder of young man, apparently weeping. A iiellish suspicion that she had dishon- ored me, rushed upon my brain; and stealthily approaching drew stiletto from my bosom and stabbed her to the heart. Sue turned and fixed upon n,e a look of alternate surprise, reproach, forgiyeness--shrieked, and fell lifeless at my feet. itwas her BROTHER.

 cannot long proceed. Since that fatal hour, ] have been scorched with the lightnings of reproachful thought;I have scathed and sl<ullxing fugitive in the house of a miserable hsh-woman, l have quaffed deeply of the delirious cup of intoxication; have found it's dregs to be gall and worrnwood. My health is wasted-my hopes are dead; and the earth seems yawning to clasp me to it's icy bosom. Would that were deadi Would to God. that l could find that annihilation in which once beliey- ed, but fer which ] haze llehg ceased to hopel Twice have swallowed poison; the potion has lain harmless within ne: and God stiii bids me i've and suffer. 1 siy wife Is buried in a quiet churcil-yafi at Hampstead; and my weakness has at last prevented me from induiging the mournful office of weeping at midnight over her peaceful grave. Mychild still lives; and is the fair and sunny image of her sainted mother. lfshe ever vis-

 it's America, and this should reach you, do not--ohi DO not acquaint her with the unhappy fate ofher parents of that father who was wretch,--of that spot less mother who loved me snot wisely. but roo wELL.' can-''

 Here the Mss. ended. l give it to the reader as l received it. The next l day the remains of Graham were inter-

 red in the Potter's. Field of one of the

 Aims houses, in Kingsland Road.

 l The little daughter of my lost friend,

 is with the parents of her mother, in A.

 merica. She IS counterfeit of Ter

 that bore her;--and like her mother in

 her youth, beloved by all, and caressed

 with enthusiasm. She is the only light 1 thrown upon the sonbre history of her

 mothers sorrow, and her fathers guilt