and, she
writes, "Forgive me, my esteemed and justly-honored husband, for
taking upon myself to dispose of a life I had consecrated to you.
Believe me, I could have loved life and you better for your
misfortunes, had I been permitted to share them with you. At present,
by my death, you are only freed from a useless object of unavailing
anguish."

All the fountains of a mother's love gush forth as she writes to her
idolized Eudora: "Pardon me, my beloved child, my sweet daughter,
whose gentle image dwells within my heart, and whose very remembrance
shakes my sternest resolution. Never would your fond mother have left
you helpless in the world, could she but have remained to guide and
guard you."

Then, apostrophizing her friends, she exclaims, "And you, my cherished
friends, transfer to my motherless child the affection you have ever
manifested for me. Grieve not at a resolution which ends my many and
severe trials. You know me too well to believe that weakness or terror
have instigated the step I am about to take."

She made her will, bequeathing such trifling souvenirs of affection as
still remained in her possession to her daughter, her friends, and her
servants. She then reverted to all she had loved and admired of the
beauties of nature, and which she was now to leave forever.
"Farewell!" she wrote, "farewell, glorious sun! that never failed to
gild my windows with thy golden rays, ere thou hiddest thy brightness
in the heavens. Adieu, ye lonely banks of the Saone, whose wild beauty
could fill my heart with such deep delight. And you too, poor but
honest people of Thizy, whose labors I lightened, whose distress I
relieved, and whose sick beds I tended--farewell! Adieu, oh! peaceful
chambers of my childhood, where I learned to love virtue and
truth--where my imagination found in books and study the food to
delight it, and where I learned in silence to command my passions and
to despise my vanity. Again farewell, my child! Remember your mother.
Doubtless your fate will be less severe than hers. Adieu, beloved
child! whom I nourished at my breast, and earnestly desired to imbue
with every feeling and opinion I myself entertained."

The cup of poison was in her hand. In her heart there was no
consciousness that she should violate the command of any higher power
by drinking it. But love for her child triumphed. The smile of Eudora
rose before her, and for her sake she clung to life. She threw away
the poison, resol