"Volkert had, as yet, spoken with great hilarity, and it almost appeared as if he had entirely forgotten his impending doom; but suddenly he grew more serious and solemn: Gloomy clouds of sorrow were gathering on his brow, the paleness of his countenance increased, his lips were contorted, he gave a deep groan of anguish, and after an awful pause of inward agony, he went on in a faltering accent."
"O that I here could conclude the dreadful tale of my transgressions! O that I had not to relate deeds more glaring and abominable! deeds which thrill my soul with anguish, and pierce my guilty heart with a thousand daggers, pointed by unutterable pangs of a polluted conscience: However, I promised you a sketch of my whole life, and will be as good as my word: Although I shall not be able to give you a full narrative of deeds which fill my soul with horror, yet I will go on as well as I can."
"The
