and must continue in this belief which makes me happy, though he may deem me worthless. Give my love to him—should you see him—also to his father. Tell Mr. R. Varney that his daughter is comfortable, and as happy as a virtuous woman in her situation can be. Tell him it is time any enmity he may feel towards me should cease, though in some measure he may have had cause for it. The fact of our being separated to the opposite extreme of the earth should, I think, help to make us friends. I do not believe my follies in earlier life were so great as my misfortunes. I entered the world with as little experience and as many difficulties as ever young man had for his portion. I did not succeed; what wonder! My native land seemed too unfriendly for me to live in—I loved it—you know how well I loved my country; yet I tore myself away to seek for 'leave to toil' in a foreign land. I had to encounter a new kind of suffering, but not a worse, though sufficiently ample to punish me for my former errors.
I am now more happily situated, but there is much bitterness at best in the lot of an exile. And Clarinda and I have little to ameliorate the exile's lot; we have neither wealth nor friends, and the very means of comfort afforded us is in
