that I had been duped,--for the satisfaction of knowing that for
two years and a half I had been wasting my sympathy and even tears on a
set of purely imaginary characters and the little _intrigante_ who had
befooled me.

"When I showed Lina the printed words on the wrapper, she turned very
pale, but maintained a stubborn silence to all my reproaches.

"'How could you deceive me so?'

"'I don't know.'

"'What reason _could_ you have?'

"'None.'

"'Lina! was there a particle of truth in anything you have told me?'

"'No, Madame.'

"This was all I could get from her; but as she left the room, she turned
and said, looking at me half reproachfully, half maliciously,--

"'I suppose we had better part now. At any rate, you will at least own
that I have interested you, Madame!'

"She left me two days afterwards, and the last I heard of her was in the
situation of companion to a Russian Countess, with whom she was an
immense favorite. She made some effort to gain possession of these
letters; but I reminded her, that, as they had been written exclusively
for my benefit, I considered I had a right to keep them. To this she
simply answered, 'Very well, Madame.'"

* * * * *

It is, perhaps, hardly necessary to add that the story of Lina Dale is
told here precisely as related to us by Madame La P----re, of course
excepting the necessary changes in the names of places and persons. The
three letters are not copies of the original ones in the possession of
Madame La P----re, but a close transcript of them from memory,--the
substance of them is identical, and in many instances the words also.
The extraordinary power shown by Lina Dale in maintaining the character
she had assumed and sustained during two years and a half was fully
carried out by the skill and cleverness of her pretended correspondence;
and in reading over these piles of letters, so full of originality, one
could not but feel regret at the perversion of powers so
remarkable,--powers which might have been developed by healthy action
into means of usefulness and good.

CHARLES LAMB'S UNCOLLECTED WRITINGS.

FOURTH PAPER.

Lamb's time, after his manumission from India-House, seems to have hung
rather heavily upon his hands. Though the "birds of the air" were not so
free as he was then, I fear they were a great deal happier and vastly
more contented than our liberated and idle old clerk. Though in the
first flush and e