lunge for Tommy’s feet, and grabbed one, and held it, and tickled it tremendously, which proved to be Raymond’s, who darted up from his pillow, and exclaimed: “Sir: What under Heaven are you doing with my feet? I demand you to let them alone. I despise your impertinence,” and, without waiting for my explanation or apology, he violently buried himself in the clothes, and off he went into a profound and noisy slumber. I seized Tom by his ear and hair and arm, and dragged him from the bed, and he unconsciously pulled all the bed clothes with him, as he was yet about half asleep. It always took about half an hour to thoroughly arouse Tom from his morning orisons. But when I told Tom I had got him a situation, he awoke mighty quick. Raymond was so mad to find himself stripped of all the bed clothes, that he threatened to tell Parson Brown, the host, but Tom told him if he did, that he would give him the worst thrashing he ever had, which made Raymond tremble. Although Tom was much shorter and weighed infinitely less than Raymond, yet he could strike a powerful blow, and Raymond knew it. Tom and Raymond slept together two nights after that, without saying a word to each other, but Sunday morning came, and as Raymond was a stiff Presbyterian, and attended Dr. Potts’ Church, he extended the hand of forgiveness and friendship to little Tommy, who accepted his apology, and they were sweeter friends than ever. I now get mournful intelligence from New Orleans and Providence. I receive news of the death of my dear brother Albert at New Orleans, and my father writes me that my wife’s father told him that he was about to induce his daughter to apply for a divorce from me. My father told him that I had been in delicate health for several years, which had kept me very poor,—that he was obliged, from humanity, to send me money occasionally, and that under these melancholy circumstances, and in view of all that had transpired in previous years, if he chose to induce his daughter to apply for a divorce, he could not help it, and that probably neither himself nor myself would oppose it. My father-in-law then said that there was no alternative, and his daughter would apply for a divorce immediately, and my father and father-in-law bade each other a cold farewell, and never recognised each other afterwards. The divorce soon followed, to which I made not the shadow of resistance. What rendered the divorce extremely painful was the almost daily visits of my wife to my father’s house ever since my disastrous crisis in 1837, when I was confined in the Providence jail. And even after the divorce, my faithful and unfortunate wife continued her visits to my father’s for a long period, without the knowledge of her father and mother, and wept, and wailed, (as my step mother has often told me,) like the disconsolate and ever-weeping Niobe. My father-in-law owned several ships, and not long after the divorce, the carrying trade was suddenly