“Since you have forced me to receive what you call mine, since you treat me like a stranger, I think myself justified in doing the same. When I left your house, the fear of offending you, in appearing to despise your gifts, occasioned me to take with me the diamonds and jewels which you had presented to me: it was your request, your command that I should do so, and I held obedience my duty. But since you shew me you will not act with the same delicacy, I have determined to part with these useless ornaments, which never were valuable but as coming from you. I found a favourable opportunity of selling them advantageously for twenty-four thousand livres (a thousand pounds sterling), which I have sent to your Attorney, as a sum I was indebted to you, and which you cannot oblige me to take back, since it is not mine.

“I have been in the convent of * * * for these two months past, where I intend to remain for some weeks at least, unless you take me hence.----_We_ have a fine estate in Flanders; they say it is a charming country. Speak but a word, and I am ready to go with you, to live with you, to die with you.”

The New-York Weekly Magazine — Part 9

+THE DEAD INFANT; or, the AGONIZING MOTHER.+

The New-York Weekly Magazine — Part 9

“She snatch’d the hope of youth, the pride of age From the dark cerements of the shrouding sheet!”

The New-York Weekly Magazine — Part 9

----“Speak, Menander, let thy mother once more hear the Voice that was her last comfort--” She begged in vain, for Menander had closed his eyes in death, and with him had fled the only happiness that his widowed mother possessed. She had but a little while since bade farewell to another child, who had gone to that bourne from whence there is no return. And now must she lose the other--the thought was too much.--No one should part her from him.--“I will still keep him,” said she, in the height of maniac rage, “if he will not speak to me I shall still behold him--I will still have my child.”

A friend who willingly would have been the means of allaying her extreme sorrow, had taken the liberty, while the mother slept, of arraying the corpse in the dress suitable for interment, and removed it to the appointed place. The mother awoke--missed her child, and hastened to the church-yard.--It was not yet deposited in the earth.--In agony she tore the lid from the coffin--pressed him to her heart, and returned home.--She kissed him---kept him continually encircled in her arms---nor would she again be parted from him.