ng heard of my father's illness on board the brig Vigilant, in
which he had embarked at the port of St Louis, he had obtained leave to
come on shore, and to go and offer us some assistance; after which he
left us, promising to return on the morrow.

Towards the middle of the night of the 15th August 1819, it struck me
that my father wished to speak with me. I drew near to him, and seeing
him pale and his eyes wild, I turned away my head to conceal the tears
which I could not suppress; but having perceived my distress, he said to
me in a mournful voice, "Why are you so much afflicted, my child? My
last hour approaches, I cannot escape it; then summon all the strength
of your soul to bear it with courage. My conscience is pure, I have
nothing with which to reproach myself; I will die in peace if you
promise to protect the children whom I will soon leave. Tell also to
feeling hearts the long train of uninterrupted misfortunes which have
assailed me; tell the abandoned condition in which we have lived; and
tell at last, that in dying, I forgave my enemies all the evils they had
made me as well as my family endure!" At these words I fell upon his
bed, and cried yes, dear father, I promise to do all you require of me.
I was yet speaking when Caroline entered the chamber, and throwing
herself upon his bed, tenderly embraced him, whilst he held me by the
hand. We gazed on one another in profound silence, which was only
interrupted by our sighs. During this heart-rending scene, my father
again said to me, "My good Charlotte, I thank you for all the care you
have bestowed on me; I die, but I leave you to the protection of friends
who will not abandon you. Never forget the obligations you already owe
M. Dard. Heaven assist you. Farewell, I go before you to a better
world." These words, pronounced with difficulty, were the last he
uttered. He instantly became much convulsed. All the physicians of the
colony were called, but the medicines they prescribed produced no
effect. In this condition he remained more than six hours, during which
time we stood suspended between hope and despair. O horrible night!
night of sorrow and desolation! who can describe all which the
unfortunate family of Picard suffered during thy terrible reign! But the
fatal period approached; the physician who prescribed it went out; I
followed, and, still seeking for some illusion in the misfortune which
menaced us, I tremblingly interrogated him. The worthy man w