d Mr. Pickwick.

'We can only guess, from that communication,' replied Mr. Snodgrass,
taking a letter from his pocket, and placing it in his friend's hand.
'Yesterday morning, when a letter was received from Mr. Wardle, stating
that you would be home with his sister at night, the melancholy which
had hung over our friend during the whole of the previous day, was
observed to increase. He shortly afterwards disappeared: he was missing
during the whole day, and in the evening this letter was brought by the
hostler from the Crown, at Muggleton. It had been left in his charge in
the morning, with a strict injunction that it should not be delivered
until night.'

Mr. Pickwick opened the epistle. It was in his friend's hand-writing,
and these were its contents:--

'MY DEAR PICKWICK,--YOU, my dear friend, are placed far beyond the reach
of many mortal frailties and weaknesses which ordinary people cannot
overcome. You do not know what it is, at one blow, to be deserted by a
lovely and fascinating creature, and to fall a victim to the artifices
of a villain, who had the grin of cunning beneath the mask of
friendship. I hope you never may.

'Any letter addressed to me at the Leather Bottle, Cobham, Kent, will
be forwarded--supposing I still exist. I hasten from the sight of
that world, which has become odious to me. Should I hasten from it
altogether, pity--forgive me. Life, my dear Pickwick, has become
insupportable to me. The spirit which burns within us, is a porter's
knot, on which to rest the heavy load of worldly cares and troubles; and
when that spirit fails us, the burden is too heavy to be borne. We sink
beneath it. You may tell Rachael--Ah, that name!--

'TRACY TupmAN.'

'We must leave this place directly,' said Mr. Pickwick, as he refolded
the note. 'It would not have been decent for us to remain here, under
any circumstances, after what has happened; and now we are bound to
follow in search of our friend.' And so saying, he led the way to the
house.

His intention was rapidly communicated. The entreaties to remain were
pressing, but Mr. Pickwick was inflexible. Business, he said, required
his immediate attendance.

The old clergyman was present.

'You are not really going?' said he, taking Mr. Pickwick aside.

Mr. Pickwick reiterated his former determination.

'Then here,' said the old gentleman, 'is a little manuscript, which I
had hoped to have the pleasure of