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 were we certain of a similar fate. If every calamity we may perhaps deserve, were placed in view before us, we should not pause—we should not avert our steps. To love, in defiance of virtue is insanity, not guilt. To attempt the safety of its victims, were a generous but useless effort of unavailable interference. It is like a raging fever, or the tempest's fury—far beyond human aid to quell. Calantha read, however, the history of her friend, and wept her fate.

ALICE'S NARRATIVE.

"My dear and honoured father,

"To you I venture to address this short history of my unhappy life, and if sufferings and pain can in part atone for my misconduct, I surely shall be forgiven by you; but never, while existence, however miserable, is prolonged, never shall I forgive myself. Perhaps even now, the rumour of my disgrace has reached you,