July 16, 1833.-This is a memorable anniversary for me; on it I complete my three hundred and twenty-third year! The Wandering Jew?-certainly not. More than eighteen centuries have passed over his head. In comparison with him, I am a very young Immortal. Am I, then, immortal? This is a question which I have asked myself, by day and night, for now three hundred and three years, and yet cannot answer it. I detected a grey hair amidst my brown locks this very day-that surely signifies decay. Yet it may have remained concealed there for three hundred years-for some persons have become entirely white-headed before twenty years of age. I will tell my story, and my reader shall judge for me. I will tell my story, and so contrive to pass some few hours of a long eternity, become so wearisome to me.