Yes, my loved Mentor, "my soul unravelled fondly flies to thee." Balmy reflection! precious memory! spirit of gratitude! WELCOME, possess my every sense, till morning dawn, and with it bring repose! I have this evening been reading Raymond's Life of Dermody. Ill-fated viper! wretched Genius! who alternately was the demi-god and the fiend! how dreadfully his eyelids must have closed! But, hold! I forget that the dust of Dermody is sacred; peace to his shade, and if the gates of Elysium are opened to one misguided wretch, may that wretch be DERMODY! I have been examining too, with "my mind's eye" the pages of past days, and striving to calculate the debt owing to some of Blacket's friends: on casting up the first column, I found the sum amounted to — a LIFE of heartfelt gratitude! — I closed the volume, and hope, earnestly hope, to send you the account. My head is so giddy, my dear Mentor; so, for the present, I must quit the pen; SLEEP beckons me, and I fly to his embrace.