elay! Oh, that I had done as my duty urged me!" (Here his
feelings overpowered him for a few minutes.) "Had I only gone even a few
days before I received that fatal letter that at once roused me from my
guilty supineness," (here he drew a letter from his pocket and gave it
me,) "he might have been saved! Read it."

I complied. It was as follows:--

"WORTHY FRIEND,--I scarce know how to communicate the
information; but, I fear, no one here will do so in so gentle
a manner. Your son Charles, I am grieved to say, has not been
acting as I could have wished for this some time back. One of
the partners called here this morning to inquire after him,
as he had absconded from their service on account of some
irregularity that had been discovered in his cash entries, and
made me afraid, by his manner, that there might be something
worse. Do, for your own and his sake, come to town as quickly
as possible. In the meantime, I shall do all in my power to
avert any evil that may threaten.--Adieu!

"JOHN WALKER."

"I was on my way," he proceeded, "to save my poor Charles from shame,
had even the workhouse been my only refuge at the close of my days.
Alas! as he told in his dream, I fear he had forfeited his life by that
fatal act, forgery, for which there is no pardon with man. If so, the
present dispensation is one of mercy, for which I bless His name, who in
all things doeth right."

My heart ached for the pious old man. We left the room, he leaning upon
my arm. The surgeon and parent both pronounced me innocent of the young
man's death. Those who still remained in the house, more particularly
the hostess, appeared disappointed, and did not scruple to hint their
doubts. Until the coroner's inquest sat, which was in the afternoon,
the father of the stranger never left my side, but seemed to take a
melancholy pleasure in conversing about his son. The jury, after a
patient investigation, returned their verdict, "Died by the visitation
of God."

I immediately bade farewell to the surgeon and the parent of the young
man, and proceeded for Liverpool, musing upon my strange destiny. It
appeared to me that I was haunted by some fatality, which plunged me
constantly into misfortune. I rejoiced that I was on the point of
leaving Britain, and hoped that in America I should be freed from my
bad fortune.

When I arrived in Liverpool I found