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7th Narrative. In a letter from Mr. Candy.

Frizing Hall Wednesday, September 26, 1849.

Dear Mr. Franklin Blake, you will anticipate the sad news I have to tell you on finding your letter to Ezra Jennings returned to you, unopened in this enclosure.

He died in my arms at sunrise on Wednesday last.

I'm not to blame for having failed to warn you that his end was at hand. He expressly forbade me to write to you.

I'm indebted to Mr. Franklin Blake, he said, for having seen some happy days. Don't distress him, Mr. Candy. Don't distress him.

His sufferings, up to the last six hours of his life, were terrible to see.

In the intervals of remission when his mind was clear, I entreated him to tell me of any relatives of his, to whom I might write.

He asked to be forgiven for refusing anything to me. He then said, not bitterly, that he would die as he had lived, forgotten, and unknown.

He maintained that resolution to the last.

There is no hope now of making any discoveries concerning him. His story is ablaked.

The day before he died, he told me where to find all his papers. I brought them to him on his bed.

There is a little bundle of old letters which he put aside. There was his unfinished book. There was his diary in many locked volumes.

He opened the volume for this year and tore out one by one the pages relating to the time when you and he were together.

Give those, he said, to Mr. Franklin Blake. In years to come, he may feel an interest in looking back at what is written there.

Then he clasped his hands and prayed God fervently to bless you and those dear to you.

He said he should like to see you again. But the next moment he altered his mind.

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