have not marked with tears. But enough of this, and of myself. You,
dear, dear L----, let me turn to you! Something at my heart tells me
that you have not forgotten that once we were the world to each other,
and even through the changes and the glories of a man's life, I think
you will not forget it. True, L----, that I was a poor and friendless,
and not too-well educated girl, and altogether unworthy of your destiny;
but you did not think so then--and when you have lost me, it is a sad,
but it is a real comfort, to feel that that thought will never occur to
you. Your memory will invest me with a thousand attractions and graces I
did not possess, and all that you recall of me will be linked with the
freshest and happiest thoughts of that period of life in which you first
beheld me. And this thought, dearest L----, sweetens death to me--and
sometimes it comforts me for what has been. Had our lot been
otherwise--had we been united, and had you survived your love for me
(and what more probable!) my lot would have been darker even than it has
been. I know not how it is--perhaps from my approaching death--but I
seem to have grown old, and to have obtained the right to be your
monitor and warner. Forgive me, then, if I implore you to think
earnestly and deeply of the great ends of life; think of them as one
might think who is anxious to gain a distant home, and who will not be
diverted from his way. Oh! could you know how solemn and thrilling a joy
comes over me as I nurse the belief, the certainty, that we shall meet
at length, and for ever! Will not that hope also animate you, and guide
you unerring through the danger and the evil of this entangled life?

"May God bless you, and watch over you--may He comfort and cheer, and
elevate your heart to him! Before you receive this, _I_ shall be no
more--and my love, my care for you will, I trust and feel, have become
eternal.--Farewell: