eel that I am going now, Jack," said
he--"going very fast--I have not many hours to live; but, I thank
Heaven, I am not in any pain. A man who dies in agony cannot examine
himself--cannot survey the past with calmness or feel convinced of the
greatness of his offenses. I thank God for that; but, Jack, although I
have committed many a foul and execrable murder, for which I am full of
remorse--although I feel how detestable has been my life--I tell you
candidly that, although those crimes may appear to others more heavy
than the simple one of theft, to me the one that lies most heavy on my
soul is the robbing of my poor mother, and my whole treatment of her.
Jack, will you do one favor to a dying man?--and it must be done soon,
or it will be too late. Will you go to my poor mother, acquaint her with
my being here, still alive, and that my hours are numbered, and beg for
me forgiveness? Obtain that for me, Jack--bring that to me, and so may
you receive forgiveness yourself!"

"I will, Spicer," replied I, "I will go directly; and I have little fear
but that I shall succeed."

"Go then, Jack; don't tarry, for my time is nearly come."

I left the hospital immediately, and hastened to old Nanny's. I found
her very busy sorting a lot of old bottles which she had just purchased.

"Well, Jack," said she, "you are just come in time to help me. I was
just a-saying if Jack was to call now he'd be of some use, for I can't
well reach so high as the shelf where I put the bottles on, and when I
get on a stool my old head swims."

"Mother," said I, "suppose you put down the bottles for a little while,
as I have that to say to you which must not be delayed."

"Why, what's the matter, boy? And how pale you look! What has happened?
You don't want money, do you?"

"No, mother, I want no money; I only want you to listen to matters
important, which I must disclose to you."

"Well, well, what is it? about the fellow who tried to rob me, I
suppose. I told you before, Jack, I won't hurt him, for my poor boy's
sake."

"It is about your poor boy I would speak, mother," replied I, hardly
knowing how to begin. "Now, mother, did you not tell me that he was
hanged at Port Royal?"

"Yes, yes; but why come and talk about it again?"

"Because, mother, you seem to feel the disgrace of his being hanged so
much."

"Well, to be sure I do--then why do you remind me of it, you bad boy?
It's cruel of you, Jack; I thought you kinder."

"Mother, i