"_Lavinia!_--A fond, a long, an eternal adieu. I leave you, and with you, all I ever valued or loved. I go where none will know my sorrow or my shame. Lost to all that made my life desirable, I go--where--it matters not what I may become. May you be happy, if the thoughts of my misery will allow it. _You_ deserve it--_you_ are virtuous; but as for me, I am only left to drink _that cup_ of misery which a life of dissipation never fails to prepare for its votaries. Your brother's principles I have corrupted; and, wretch that I was, who have madly sought to unite an angel to a demon. Oh! Lavinia, I deserved you not. You are born to bless, and to be blessed--and I, alas! to curse, and to be cursed. _Farewell_--again _farewell!_--but know, that while life and memory last, you will be dear to the heart of the wretched JAMES DRAYTON." The heart of Lavinia bled over every line of that impassioned note. She saw her brother changed from what he once had been--her mother's cheek pallid--and the fond friend and instructress of her youth sharing the sorrows of all. Four years rolling round, brought to her many admirers--but to her they talked of love in vain. William had married a lovely, wealthy girl--but was bowing her happy spirit by his folly and extravagance. Her mother was gradually sinking; and but for the stay of religion, _she_ too would have sunk under the pressure of her sorrows--but he whose promises she trusted, never forsook those who lean on his almighty arm. Renowned for piety and benevolence, beloved, admired, she moved around the circle of her acquaintance like a spirit of light and peace. But her youthful attachment haunted her riper years--of James no tidings had been heard--vain had proved her numerous endeavors to learn his fate. She was one day alone, when a young man of fine appearance knocked at the door. She arose and admitted him, when he asked if she had ever known a Mr. Drayton. To her reply in the affirmative, he arose and presented her the following letter, which she no sooner took, than bowing, he wished her a happy evening, and withdrew. Hastily she broke the seal, and read as follows: "Will Lavinia now remember him whom once she knew, and who gave to her the only sincere portion of his nature which he possessed? Does she remember him whose follies and vices removed him from her and happiness? Yes, she cannot have forgotten the once wretched, but now comparatively happy Drayton. But you shall know what I owe you, and though I may be disregarded, you will joy that you have saved a being from misery and disgrace. But to my narrative.