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hither but ten minutes ago, and write this letter in the bar of the stage-house. I wish not to lose a moment in informing you of what has happened. I cannot do justice to my own feelings when I reflect upon the rashness of which I have been guilty.

I will give you the particulars tomorrow. At present, I shall only say that Clithero is alive; is apprised of your wife's arrival and abode in New-York; and has set out, with mysterious intentions, to visit her.

May Heaven avert the consequences of such a design! May you be enabled by some means to prevent their meeting! If you cannot prevent itbut I must not reason on such an event, nor lengthen out this letter. E. H.

now relate the particulars which I yesterday promised to send you. You heard through your niece of my arrival at Inglefield's, in Solebury. My enquiries you may readily suppose would turn upon the fate of my friend's servant, Clithero, whose last disappearance was so strange and abrupt, and of whom since that time I had heard nothing. You are indifferent to his fate, and are anxious only that his existence and misfortunes may be speedily forgotten. I confess that it is somewhat otherwise with me: I pity him; I wish to relieve him, and cannot admit the belief that his misery is without a cure. I want to find him out; I want to know his condition, and, if