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Randolph

a novel
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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FRANK TO JOHN.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

FRANK TO JOHN.


My dear Brother,

I am ruined. Send me a thousand dollars. I have no
time to relate the particulars; but, if you would save me
from dishonour, send me the money. I shall wait only
one post over the time. I am in good spirits—very good
—can laugh, and talk, and play, and drink, and—yes,
yes! I am in very good spirits.

We talk of going to New-Orleans. A passage thence
to South America, or the peninsula, I don't know which,
will be the next step.

Is—brother, dear brother, for God's sake, write to
me, immediately. Tell me, how is—no matter for the
name. Tell me. Let nothing prevent you.

I like this city. My letters have been of service to me,
and I am, continually, at some entertainment or other,
given in princely style, by some of the reigning nabobs.
But this—O, curse this affectation. Brother, I cannot
trifle. That day has gone by. I am too heavy here;
too hot about the temples, for laughter. What is festivity
to me?—the carousal of a charnel house?—the feast of the


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sick chamber? Dear, dear Ju—ah, no!—the pale,
lovely shadow went by me, last night, in my dreams;—
and, I am sure, that, that—no, no! I cannot speak it.
If it be all over, seal your letter with black. No matter
for the money, then—that will be sufficient.

Go where I will, I hear something of Molton. A gentleman
boards here, who knew him in Philadelphia. He
says that Molton courted a girl for several years, there;
then persuaded a friend to take her off his hands;—that
the friend discovered something, just at the critical moment
of marriage;—that the affair was broken off;—the
girl fell sick, and Molton, himself, went into the country
with her, and his friend left the city:—that Molton renewed
his addresses;—introduced another man to her;—affected
to quarrel with her;—was turned out of the house
by her father;—that she married the man that Molton introduced
and died in childbed a few months afterward.
John, is this true? Can it be? Enquire into it. I give
you the names. Love to Sarah. Her name was Marion,
M. P.—I find that I have known her. Her story made
many a heart ache.

FRANK.