He had sat there long enjoying this vision, when his eye fell upon a letter on the table, the postmark "New York," the direction in Fink's hand.
Fink, when he first left, had written more than once to Anton, but only a few lines at a time, telling nothing of his occupation, nor his plans for the future.

Then a long interval passed away, during which Anton had had no tidings from his friend, and only knew that he spent a good deal of his time in traveling in the Western States of the Union as manager of the business of which his uncle had been the head, and in the interest of several other companies in which the deceased had had shares.

But it was with horror that he now read the following letter: "It must out at last, though I would gladly have kept it from you, poor boy! I have joined thieves and murderers.

If you want any thing of the kind done, apply to me.

I envy a fellow who becomes a villain by choice; he has at least the pleasure of driving a good bargain with Satan, and can select the particular sort of good-for-nothingness which suits his tastes; but my lot is less satisfactory.