"My trial is over, and I dare say my dear master has already told you the fate of your unhappy servant. He cannot, however, tell you what I can, and what will better please your good heart than the account of my trial, namely, that I am not so disconsolate as many persons may think I am. No; God be praised, and thanks to those dear friends who visited me in the Ipswich gaol; and chiefly thanks to you, among them, my dear lady; my heart is consoled with the prospect of soon seeing better things than this wicked world can show me. Oh! my dear lady, I hope to see you among those bright shining spirits who live for ever in harmony and love. Oh! how happy shall we then be, free from fear of pain or grief! I have just been reading that beautiful passage, where it is written, 'God shall wipe all tears from their eyes, and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying; neither shall there be any more pain.' Oh! what a different world must that be to this; and what should make us grieve to leave this world? It is only the fear of future wrath that can prevent our joyfully looking up to heaven through the valley of death. And, dearest lady, if such a wretched being as I am can hope in that Saviour who died for me and all the world, surely, you, dear lady, must have a bright, a pleasant prospect, before you. Heaven bless you, for all your goodness to me in the days of my prosperity, but more for your Christian charity in the day of my adversity! The judge, who really, I think, reminded me of you, told me I had been well instructed; I wish he knew you, dear madam, and he would then be assured of it. Thank my kind master for his goodness to his unworthy servant. I had no hope of mercy from the first, and the judge told me not to trust in any such idea in this world. He spoke much less severely than I expected; but I was prepared for his condemnation, and I am now preparing my mind for the day of execution. I find great comfort in the Scriptures, because I have no secret pangs of unconfessed guilt, or any wish in my heart to cover or palliate my offences. My trial is over, and the same God who sustained me through it, will, I hope, preserve my spirit faithful to the last. Every moment seems valuable to me, dear lady, now that I know them to be so soon numbered; and I scarcely like to lose one even in sleep. Nature, however, is weary with fatigue and anxiety, though my spirit seems so wakeful. If I go to sleep, it will be in prayer for you and all my friends. That God may bless you and all your dear family, is the heartfelt desire of your unfortunate, though ever grateful servant, "MARGARET CATCHPOLE. "BURY GAOL, August 9th, 1797.