Blessed shade of a beloved sister! The sacrifice of my adverse and dreadful fate! Thee could I never avenge! Thee could the blood of Weingarten never appease! No asylum, however sacred, should have secured him, had he not sought that last of asylums for human wickedness and human woes—the grave! To thee do I dedicate these few pages, a tribute of thankfulness; and, if future rewards there are, may the brightest of these rewards be thine. For us, and not for ours, may rewards be expected from monarchs who, in apathy, have beheld our mortal sufferings. Rest, noble soul, murdered though thou wert by the enemies of thy brother. Again my blood boils, again my tears roll down my cheeks, when I remember thee, thy sufferings in my cause, and thy untimely end! I knew it not; I sought to thank thee; I found thee in the grave; I would have made retribution to thy children, but unjust, iron-hearted princes had deprived me of the power. Can the virtuous heart conceive affliction more cruel? My own ills I would have endured with magnanimity; but thine are wrongs I have neither the power to forget nor heal.