"I was so overcome and bewildered at that moment that I could say nothing more than simply to whisper,--'_Mother, I shall try to do so_.' She then kissed me; bade me good-bye; and on wings of light instantly soared out of the room, leaving it in darkness again. I was so awfully impressed at this moment that I awoke suddenly. It appeared to me to be more of a waking reality than a dream. From that time until the present moment it has preyed heavily upon my feelings. Again and again have I tried to eradicate the impression, but every effort has only had a tendency to rivet it the more firmly to my mind, until it has at length assumed the aspect of a reality. I fear my apprehensions are too true; however I trust to Providence that my dream was nothing more than a baseless emanation of fancy. The evening after my arrival in Toronto from the Red River expedition I wrote a letter to my parents, and also one to a cousin of my own residing in London. I stated the circumstances which compelled me to return from the expedition; that the doctor had advised me to go back to England, as the Canadian climate was not suitable for my constitution; and that I purposed being in London to spend the Christmas holidays with my friends. Neither did I forget to mention the anxiety I felt about my child; nor did I neglect to express my intention of paying an affectionate compliment to its mother on my return. I desired my friends to reply immediately on receiving my letters. Nearly five weeks have elapsed since I wrote, but no answer has been received yet. I however expect something by the next English mail. I am living in suspense; a dreadful feeling indeed to endure. Had my health and means permitted, I would have gone directly to England on my return from the expedition. Instead thereof I sent the letters referred to, and having rested in this city a couple of weeks, I went down to Kingston to visit an old acquaintance who had emigrated thither a few years ago; but when I arrived there I discovered with disappointment that he had recently removed to the State of Minnesota. It was then, sir, that I had the pleasure of meeting with you. Your kindness and familiarity on that occasion, and also since, have been as medicine to my soul. I have considered you as a genial and sympathetic friend. I have told you the history of my past career. I trust to God that my future will be characterised with less unfortunate events, but with deeds more worthy of being told. I feel, and I know that I have been the author of my own wretchedness and folly. I have wasted my time, my money, and my energies in dissipation. I have feasted my conceited fancies upon glory as light and transient as the flying gossamer: and besides all this, I have done injustice to my parents--to my child--and to her who gave it birth. I have wronged her with cruel heart, a heart that has recoiled upon itself, and now stings its own affections in the madness of remorse.