ntered the room--grew confused in attempting
to tell him what was the matter with me--and, at last, could not
articulate a single word distinctly. He looked very grave as he examined
me and questioned the landlady. I thought I heard him say something
about sending for my friends, but could not be certain.

31st.--Weaker and weaker. I tried in despair, to-day, to write to Ralph;
but knew not how to word the letter. The simplest forms of expression
confused themselves inextricably in my mind. I was obliged to give it
up. It is a surprise to me to find that I can still add with my pencil
to the entries in this Journal! When I am no longer able to continue,
in some sort, the employment to which I have been used for so many weeks
past, what will become of me? Shall I have lost the only safeguard that
keeps me in my senses?

* * * * *

Worse! worse! I have forgotten what day of the month it is; and cannot
remember it for a moment together, when they tell me--cannot even
recollect how long I have been confined to my bed. I feel as if my heart
was wasting away. Oh! if I could only see Clara again.

* * * * *

The doctor and a strange man have been looking among my papers.

My God! am I dying? dying at the very time when there is a chance of
happiness for my future life?

* * * * *

Clara!--far from her--nothing but the little book-marker she worked for
me--leave it round my neck when I--

I can't move, or breathe, or think--if I could only be taken back--if
my father could see me as I am now! Night again--the dreams that will
come--always of home; sometimes, the untried home in heaven, as well as
the familiar home on earth--

* * * * *

Clara! I shall die out of my senses, unless Clara--break the news
gently--it may kill her--

Her face so bright and calm! her watchful, weeping eyes always looking
at me, with a light in them that shines steady through the quivering
tears. While the light lasts, I shall live; when it begins to die out--*

NOTE BY THE EDITOR.

* There are some lines of writing beyond this point; but they are
illegible.

LETTERS IN CONCLUSION.

LETTER I.

FROM WILLIAM PENHALE, MINER, AT BARTALLOCK, IN CORNWALL, TO HIS WIFE IN
LONDON.

MY DEAR MARY,

I received your letter yesterday, and was more glad than I can say, at
hearing that our darling girl Susan has got such a go