where I am praying and striving to go, through the
atonement of Him who died for sinners--even for me and Howel, who
are both great sinners--yet not too great to be saved. Thank you,
my dear, dear brother, for showing me the way to heaven, and for
all your goodness to me and Minette--(my poor Minette, I must leave
her, but you will all take care of her better than I have done).
Thank you, I am very sorry that I was such a wilful, perverse
sister, when you tried to do me good.

'God bless you for ever and ever--you and all--Your loving but
afflicted sister, NETTA JENKINS.'

Rowland sat down at one end of the cell, on the iron bedstead and that
he might not seem to be watching Howel, took a small Testament from his
pocket and began to read. This, too, he had brought for Howel. It was
the one Netta had used, as long as she lived, and in it she had written,
'To be given to my dear husband, if I die.--Netta.' She had marked many
passages, and appended her initials to each of the marks.

Rowland could not read long. It was impossible not to see the trembling
of that iron man who sat before him; the heaving breast and the
convulsed hands. And yet Howel did not read the letter. He saw the
familiar handwriting once more of the only thing he had ever
loved--loved and murdered--and he sat transfixed before it.

At last Rowland rose, and going to him, put his hand on his shoulder.
He started as if Netta's spirit had appeared, and looked up wildly.
Seeing Rowland, he struggled for self-possession and again shrouding his
face, began to read.

Rowland kept his hand on his shoulder, gently pressing it, as if to
assure him of sympathy. He felt him trembling beneath his touch.

As he stood thus his eye fell on the paper that Howel had had before him
when he entered the cell. He could not help seeing the words, 'From my
cell in Newgate--my judge and jury.' Underneath this heading appeared to
be the commencement of a poem, and beneath that were caricatures of a
man in a large wig, and of others, with every variety of nose and chin.

This had been Howel's occupation within four-and-twenty hours of his
conviction!

Three times Howel turned the sheet of paper that he was reading, as if
he had not understood the words that were written on it, and then he
uttered a groan, so deep and loud, that Rowland could restrain himself
no longer, but said,--

'Howel, for her sake, listen to me, her b