Franklin brought into the room a small copper cup, which contained a small quantity of _lead_; this cup she held over the lamp until the lead was melted as thin as water; and then she handed it to me, and told me to go softly into her husband's room, and _pour the lead into his ear_! I DID IT! Yes, as God is my Judge, I did it!--The poor gentleman was lying on his side, in a sound sleep; with a steady hand I poured the liquid metal into his ear--_it did not awake him!_ he merely shuddered once, and died.--The next morning he was found by his servant, stiff and cold. Some people talked of 'disease of the heart,' others, of 'apoplexy,' many, of 'the visitation of God,' while some shrugged their shoulders, and said nothing. But _I_ knew the secret of his death! He was buried with great pomp in the family tomb in St. Paul's churchyard. My confession is made. After the funeral, my lady and Josephine gave me plenty of money. 'Go,' said they, 'to some other city, and take up your abode; you will never the mention the manner in which Mr. Franklin came to his death, for such a disclosure would bring your own neck to the halter, without injuring us--_your hand_ alone did the deed!' I went to Boston, and gave birth to a stillborn child; my money soon went and I became a common prostitute.--Disease soon overtook me--but why dwell upon the misfortunes and wanderings of a wretch like me? A week ago, I found myself again in New York, the inmate of this garret; to-day I felt myself dying, and sent for a clergyman to hear my dying confession. I am exhausted; I can say no more--God have mercy on me!' 'One word more,' cried the rector; 'by what name were you known to the Franklins?' 'Mary Welch,' she replied, faintly. The wretched creature soon afterwards breathed her last. The Doctor left a sufficient sum of money with the inmates of the house to defray the expenses of the woman's funeral, and took his departure from that scene of wretchedness. As he retraced his steps to his own dwelling, his thoughts were of the most painful nature; the woman's confession, implicating Josephine and her mother in the crime of murder, horrified him, and gave rise to the most terrible reflections. In his own heart he could not doubt the truth of the wretched woman's statement, made as it was on her death-bed, and just as she was about to be ushered into the presence of her Maker.