moment, one of whom had seized my arm, and thus hindered me from
destroying my own life. I submitted to be bound and conveyed to prison.
My trial came on at the last assizes. I made no defence; and was
condemned to death. My execution will take place in eight weeks from
to-morrow. I shall cheerfully meet my fate; for who would endure life
when rendered so peculiarly miserable!"

The wretched Malcomb here ended his tale of woe. No tear moistened his
eye--his grief was too despairing for tears; it preyed upon his heart,
drank the vital streams of life, and burst in convulsive sighs from his
burning bosom.

Alonzo seriously contemplated on the incidents and events of this
tragical story. Conscience whispered him, are not Malcomb's miseries
superior to thine? Candour and correct reason must have answered yes.
"Melissa perished, said Alonzo, but not by the hand of her lover: she
expired, but not through the mistaken frenzy of him who adored her. She
died, conscious of the unfeigned love I bore her."

Alonzo and his fellow prisoners had been robbed, when they were
captured, of every thing except the clothes they wore. Their allowance
of provisions was scanty and poor. They were confined in the third story
of a lofty prison. Time rolled away; no prospects appeared of their
liberation, either by exchange or parole. Some of the prisoners were
removed, as new ones were introduced, to other places of confinement,
until not one American was left except Alonzo.

Meantime the day appointed for the execution of Malcomb drew near. His
past and approaching fate filled the breast of Alonzo with sympathetic
sorrow. He saw his venerable father, his mother, his friends and
acquaintance, with several pious clergymen, frequently enter the prison
to console and comfort him, and to prepare him for the unchangeable
state on which he was soon to enter. He saw his mind softened by their
advice and counsel;--frequently would he burst into tears;--often in the
solitary hours of night was he heard addressing the throne of grace for
mercy and forgiveness. But the grief that preyed at his heart had wasted
him to a mere skeleton; a slow but deleterious fever had consequently
implanted itself in his constitution. Exhausted nature could make but a
weak struggle against disease and affliction like his, and about a week
previous to the day appointed for his execution, he expired in peace and
penitence, trusting in the mercy of his Creator through the su