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Randolph

a novel
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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(Copy of the Note.)
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

(Copy of the Note.)

My excellent Friend,

As you are about to leave us for a long time; and, as
it is highly probable that we shall never meet again, in
this life, I have taken the liberty to address a few words


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Page 77
more to you, on the melancholy subject of our last conversation.
I never wrote to a man, before; and, I trust,
that you, who are now master of my motive, will not
misjudge the action. I am in your power. I feel it, but
I do not tremble; for, I am sure, that you are generous
and noble. What was communicated to you, yesterday,
I need not repeat, is of a nature never to be told, to any
human being. This was my injunction, when we parted;
it was the condition, under which, I committed myself
to you. Allow me, now, to add a qualification. You
are at liberty to tell all that I told you, to whomsoever
you may think proper, when I am no more. Your silence
will not be long. I do not say this to distress you.
I do not say it with any feeling of levity, or unbelief:---
ah, no, my friend! but in the firm persuasion, that our
good Father hath already bidden me to the chambers of
death. It would be weak, if not wicked, to pretend that
there is no terrour in this feeling. No, my friend, were
it permitted to me to choose, I have yet so much the infirmity
of woman about me, that I should cling to life;
but still, as I am growing weaker and weaker, I feel that
all the delicate fibres of my affection are gently and
slowly loosening and detaching themselves, from the
things of the earth; nay, from all that I have most loved
here, and that they are continually losing somewhat of
their vitality and attractiveness,---till I am brought to
believe, now, that the time will come---(and the thought
is painful)---when the tendrils, that a young heart puts
forth too early, and too freely, embracing and intertwining
with all that had warmth and affection in it, will
become so deadened and seared, that they will be insonsible
of the moment, the awful moment, when their hold
is utterly gone and relinquished, forever and ever.

Heaven prosper thee, my friend! Watch thy faculties.
Remember thine accountability to thy Father, in heaven;
and acknowledge it, by thy life. Farewell. While I
live, my friend, my dear friend, I shall remember thy
generosity and greatness, with the feeling of a sister.

JULIET R. GRACIE.
Mr. Francis Omar.