This is the last confidential letter I shall ever write, save to her who is indeed my best, my truest, most indulgent friend on earth; but before I entirely conclude, the love, the friendship I have felt for you compels me to implore you to pause in your career.

Oh, Annie, do not follow up those principles you would have instilled in me; do not, oh, as you value future innocence and peace, do not let them be your guide in life; you will find them hollow, vain, and false.

Pause but for one moment, and reflect.

Can there he happiness without virtue, peace without integrity?
Is there pleasure without truth?
Was deception productive of felicity to me?
Oh, no, no.

That visit to London, that introduction in the gay world to which I looked forward with so much joy, the retrospection of which I hoped would have enlivened Oakwood, oh, what does it present?
A dreary waste of life, varied only by remorse.