I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you for being so lenient to me and even writing to the District Attorney on my behalf. I am truly grateful, Blackwood. Please do not think I am not sorry for what I have done, or that I am not really penitent, for I am indeed. It was bitterly cold last night and I was awfully glad to have my overcoat, and blessed you for sending it. I know you got it out of pawn for me, and that is another kindness. Again, for the last time probably, I thank you for your many acts of kindness. I bitterly regret and earnestly repent for the manner I treated you, returning evil for good, and I shall think much of you when serving my time under a blazing sun or in my cramped and chilly cell. ARTHUR B. _Tombs Prison._ I have just been to the Court House and pleaded guilty. My sentence is remanded till Friday week. If I could only get that lawyer I might get the sentence reduced a little. But Judge Smythe is a very hard man. My small hopes were dashed away on hearing that you had been subpœnaed to go before the Grand Jury this morning. Now all hope is gone; only blank, blank despair; no hope, all is dark. I wish I could die--much rather that than suffer this awful remorse. Do you know I sometimes think I am going mad? When I come out I shall be too old for the army, and what else can a felon, a criminal, a convict do? Is crime the only refuge? Shall I sink lower and lower? Will what small sense of decency and honour I have left be utterly destroyed and made callous by propinquity with other criminals? What a frightful nightmare to conjure up! Nightmare? No, it is only too true; it is stern, inexorable reality. Thank you for sending the clothes. I had no change before. Bless you! A. B. _Tombs City Prison._ What follows I wish to write voluntarily. It is a Confession and relieves me-- I certainly wish to convey to you the fact of my sincere and deep sorrow for the shameful manner I treated you and abused your confidence and kindness. I fear that one of my letters cannot have reached you, as I am sure I wrote at length on this subject. You mistake and misjudge me when you think it is only fear that prompts me to write as I do. My eyes are opened to the enormity of my past crimes, opened by thinking and seeing things in the proper light. I have been alone with my thought for days now, and God knows how many more days will pass over my head before I again face the world. It will relieve me to give you a full confession of my treachery, for I believe there is no real repentance without real confession.