JOHN TO FRANK.
O, my poor brother!—God be merciful to thee!—Before
this, it may be, that thy heart is already shattered into
a thousand pieces. My brother, my brother! how poignant
will be thy suffering! So much pains too, as I had taken—
so many letters—all to prepare thee for it—and then, to
find thee almost at the door—cheerful and festive—gracious
God!—
Yet, it is possible that you have not received any of
my letters; that you do not yet know; not even at this
moment, of the desolation that is encompassing you.—
May it be so? Prepare yourself—awaken all your faculties—go
down upon your knees—imagine the most
tremendous blow that could fall upon you—no matter
what it is—and then—no, no, my brother; I cannot
tell thee what it is, yet. I pity thee. Do not leave Baltimore—do
not, I charge thee. I have just received thy
little note; and, to-morrow, I shall expect to know exactly
the truth. If no letter come to-morrow, I shall set
off, myself, for Baltimore. Farewell, my dear, dear
brother. Harriot, too!—no, I cannot speak of her, now.
JOHN.
P. S.—Be prepared for the worst—the worst that can
happen to thee, my poor brother. Nothing else can save
thee.
