had neither money nor any valuable thing in my possession. I
moved forward mechanically and at random. Where I landed was at no great
distance from the verge of the town. In a short time I discovered the
glimmering of a distant lamp. To this I directed my steps, and here I
paused to examine the contents of the pocket-book.

I found three bank-notes, each of fifty dollars, enclosed in a piece of
blank paper. Besides these were three letters, apparently written by his
wife, and dated at Baltimore. They were brief, but composed in a strain
of great tenderness, and containing affecting allusions to their child.
I could gather, from their date and tenor, that they were received
during his absence on his recent voyage; that her condition was
considerably necessitous, and surrounded by wants which their prolonged
separation had increased.

The fourth letter was open, and seemed to have been very lately written.
It was directed to Mrs. Mary Watson. He informed her in it of his
arrival at Philadelphia from St. Domingo; of the loss of his ship and
cargo; and of his intention to hasten home with all possible expedition.
He told her that all was lost but one hundred and fifty dollars, the
greater part of which he should bring with him, to relieve her more
pressing wants. The letter was signed, and folded, and superscribed, but
unsealed.

A little consideration showed me in what manner it became me, on this
occasion, to demean myself. I put the bank-notes in the letter, and
sealed it with a wafer; a few of which were found in the pocket-book. I
hesitated some time whether I should add any thing to the information
which the letter contained, by means of a pencil which offered itself to
my view; but I concluded to forbear. I could select no suitable terms in
which to communicate the mournful truth. I resolved to deposit this
letter at the post-office, where I knew letters could be left at all
hours.

My reflections at length reverted to my own condition. What was the fate
reserved for me? How far my safety might be affected by remaining in the
city, in consequence of the disappearance of Welbeck, and my known
connection with the fugitive, it was impossible to foresee. My fears
readily suggested innumerable embarrassments and inconveniences which
would flow from this source. Besides, on what pretence should I remain?
To whom could I apply for protection or employment? All avenues, even to
subsistence, were shut against me. The cou