place,” uttered by Samoilow when he was leaving me, weighed much on my mind and imagination. It is said that a quiet conscience consoles us in all our misfortunes. Undoubtedly the testimony which an honest heart gives to itself, is very alleviating in misfortune; it can enable us to endure persecutions, poverty, and the greatest reverses of fate; still these valuable blessings cannot make amends for the loss of liberty. Accustomed from my boyhood to an active and independent life; fond of pleasures, and feeling all the charms of society, the idea of being shut up in a dismal and solitary prison, without ever breathing the fresh air, seeing my fellow-creatures, or hearing their voice, obliged to tear with my fingers the food given me, constantly surrounded with soldiers and spies, as useless as intolerable, and above all, the idea of remaining in this state of suffering for ever, or at least for a long time, often baffled all my courage and philosophy. Present and future, my situation and that of those who were dear to me, presented to me
