life of obscurity and humble
usefulness.'

With these words the Doctor took his departure, leaving the mother and
daughter in a state of mind easier to be imagined than described.
Josephine was the first to break the silence which succeeded his exit
from the house:--

'So our secret is discovered,' said she.--'Perdition! who would have
thought that our crime could ever be found out in that manner? Mother,
what are we to do?'

'I know not what to say,' replied Mrs. Franklin. 'One thing, however, is
certain; that whining parson will never betray us. He said that the
dread of his own folly would not deter him from denouncing us, but he
lies--that dread of being exposed will alone keep his mouth shut. Yet,
good Heavens! he assures us that the secret is known to another person,
who will not scruple to use the knowledge to his advantage. Who can that
person be? And what reward will he require of us, to ensure his
silence?'

'Mother,' said Josephine, in a decided tone--'We must quit this city
forever. We can dwell here no longer with safety. Let us go to Boston,
and dwell there under an assumed name. I have heard that Boston is a
great city, where licentiousness and hypocrisy abound, in secret; where
the artful dissimulator can cloak himself with sanctity, and violate
with impunity every command of God and man. Yes, Boston is the city for
us.'

'I agree with you, my dear,' rejoined her mother--'it is the greatest
lust market of the Union. You will be surprised to learn that several of
my old schoolmates are now keeping fashionable boarding houses for
courtezans in that city and from the business derive a luxurious
maintenance. There is my friend Louisa Atwill, whose history I have
often narrated to you and there, too, is Lucy Bartlett, and Rachel
Pierce, whose lover is the gay and celebrated Frank Hancock, whom I have
often seen--nor must I omit to mention Julia Carr, whose establishment
is noted for privacy, and is almost exclusively supported by married
men. All these with whom I occasionally correspond testify to the
voluptuous temperament of the Bostonians, among whom you will be sure to
make many conquests.'

We merely detail this conversation for the purpose of showing the
recklessness and depravity of these two women. They had just
acknowledged themselves guilty of the crime of murder; and could thus
calmly converse on indifferent and sinful topics, immediately after the
departure of their accuser, and as soon