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STREET & S:
MITE,
No. 11 FRANKFORT STREET.
NEW YORK, MAY 19, 15:
Vou. 1
My Crime.
brn rm m
Tux hour of my dissolution is fast approach-
ing. Ilnow that no medical skill can save
me from the close grasp of death, whose swift
advance I nei:her dread nor desire. At last a
calmness, like indifference, is succeeding the
mental agony which Ihave endured for two-
score years, and it may be only the influence
of this feeling which induces me to commit to
your hands, instead of to the flames, the fol-
lowing pages, which reveal the dreadful secret
of my lifo. Woald you have been so faithfal
MY ORIME.—‘‘A FEW MOMENTS LATER
in your attendance, my good physician, had} My namo is Muurico Durand. 1 was orn
you known me? ia tho south of I'rance, and resided with my
Iam an old man now, and the most of tbis | parents in my native town until my twentieth
manuscript was prepared many years ago, al-| year, when I removed to Paris, thero to pursue
though somo has been added within tho last} the study of medicine, for which profession
twenty-four hours, I cannot tell what strange |my own inclinations and tho will of my pa-
and irresistible power it was which impelled | rents decided me.
me to put into writing the very evidence; Ibad been ia Paris about threo months,
which, had itit been discovered; would have} when I formed te acquaintance of a young
brought upon me the sure punishment of my | Englishman, likewise a medical student. Al-
crime. Haunted forever by the remembrance | bert Mortimer had passed his life in that other
of a terrible deed, carrying about always in| great city, Londoa; and he was quicker in
wy own handwriting my own conviction, you | lourning Parisian life than myself. Ie was
can imagine no life more miserably wretched | older than me, aad I looked up to him; was
than the ono I have led. guided by bim, as by an elder brother
THERE WAS A HEAVY SPLASH,
$4 00 P:
SING!
COPIES TEN CENTS.
One evening, as Albert nnd mysetf were re-
turning to our rooms froma stroll along the
boulevard, wo met, coming toward us, the
most beautifal face Ihave cverseen, I cannot
tell you how lovely it was; the remembranco
of it, as I first saw it, in its fresh, girlish
beauty, is liko a dream of Heaven. I saw at:
once, from her plain dress, and het bundle of
work, that the possessor of so much beauty
was only a poor sewing-girl. She did not look
at us, bot that one glimpse of her face had set
wy heart beating to a new and wondrous tune.
I turned to look after her. The coarse dress
could not hide tho perfect symmetry of her
form, nor the common shoes Cestrog the grace
