M. Malglaive, a half-pay officer, lately employed in a public office, had suffered some unexpected pecuniary losses. One of his friends received a note from him by the twopenny post, requesting him to call at his lodgings, where he would find a packet addressed to him. On proceeding there, and opening the packet, he found a letter in these words:— “When you shall have received this letter, my poor Eleanore and I will be no more. Be so good as to have our door opened; you will find our eyes closed for ever. We are weary of misfortunes, and don’t see how we can do better than end them. Satisfied of the courage and attachment of my excellent wife, I was certain that she would adopt my views, and take her share in my design.” These young people (for the husband was but thirty-four and the wife twenty-eight) had taken the most minute precautions to render the effect of the fumes of charcoal certain; but a brace of loaded pistols was placed on the night table, to be used if the charcoal had failed. Madame de F—— killed herself in the park of her chateau, with _her own_ fowling-piece, which she took out on pretence of going shooting, as she was in the habit of doing. She loaded it with six balls, and placing the muzzle to her breast, discharged it. The only cause assigned is the vexation she and M. de F—— felt at her having no children to inherit their large fortune. A fisherman with a large family, residing at Vellon d’Auffes, near Marseilles, had been driven by domestic trouble to form a design of suicide, which he had long announced. One Sunday he climbed a high rock in the neighbourhood, where, in the sight of his friends below, with a crucifix in his hands, he was evidently saying his last prayer, preparatory to suicide. One of the neighbours, guessing his intentions, reached the spot suddenly, and seized him; a struggle ensued on the edge of the precipice; the unhappy man prevailed, and, escaping from the arms of his friendly antagonist, flung himself over.