ALPHONSO, the hero of my history, was born in Portugal. His father, Don Ramirez, en­joyed riches and preferment because he was a favor­ite. Born of an obscure family, but with a subtile intriguing, and ambitious character he introduced himself at court, found protectors, formed partizans, and became at last the idol of his sovereign. The young Alphonso was educated at Lisbon, in the sumptuous palace of his father: an only son to the [Page 10] richest and most powerful man in the kingdom, adu­lation kneeled at his cradle, accompanied and cor­rupted his youth.

Don Ramirez, occupied by great projects and lit­tle cabals, could not be at the same time an assiduous courtier and a vigilant father; he was therefore o­bliged to commit the care of his son's education to strangers. Alphonso had teachers of languages, hi­story, geography, mathematics, music, and drawing, all of whom wondered, or pretended to wonder, at his prodigious capacity and strength of genius. Not­withstanding which, Alphonso learnt little, except to draw flowers, and play a few airs on the guittar.

This was sufficient to charm all the ladies of the Court, especially when he gave them to understand he was also a profound mathematician, an excellent naturalist, and a great chymist. Neither did he tell them any thing he did not himself believe; for his governor, his teachers, his valets, and the croud of complaisant people that paid their court to his father, all declared he was a miracle, so repeatedly, he could not doubt of its being a certain fact.

He not only supposed himself the most distinguish­ed young man at Court, by his talents, beauty and knowledge, but he likewise believed his birth to be as illustrious as his fortune Don Ramirez, during his leisure moments, had invented a list of his forefathers, as far back as the fabulous times of Lusus^*; which [Page 11] genealogy, every body but his son laughed at; the world is not apt to credit old titles, never heard of till the pretended owner is become rich. Alphonso, however, too vain not to be credulous on such a sub­ject, saw no one superior to his father, except his so­vereign, and the branches of the royal family; and yet Alphonso, inebriated with pride, full of ignorance, folly, and presumption, spoilt by pomp, flattery, and fortune's favours; Alphonso, I say, was yet not lost past retrieving: he was possessed of courage, a feeling heart, and a good understanding; and the inconstancy of fortune was preparing a lesson, that would teach him to know himself.

As Don Ramirez owed his elevation only to in­trigue, so a new intrigue unexpectedly changed his destiny; he was disgraced and stript of all his em­ployments, just as Alphonso was seventeen. This unforeseen revolution not only deprived Don Rami­rez of titles that flattered his pride, but also of a great part of his wealth; and [...] was one of those little ambitious people, who equally regret titles and riches: besides he was in debt, and his disgrace made his creditors as pressing and importunate, as they had been formerly moderate and forbearing; in fine, Don Ramirez saved nothing of all his fortune, except his magnificent palace at Lisbon.

It is true, that this palace contained immense rich­es, in furniture, plate, paintings, and especially in di­amonds▪ all which Don Ramirez only waited for a favourable opportunity to sell, when a dreadful ad­venture happened, which gave the finishing stroke to his misfortunes. He had not yet ventured to tell his [Page 12] son, that the state of his affairs forced him to sell his palace, and return in the country. At last he determined to declare his real situation, and accord­ingly sent for him one morning, to open his heart to him on that subject.

As soon as they were alone, tell me, Alphonso, said Don Ramirez, what effect has my disgrace and the loss of my fortune had upon you? I have always thought, my father, said Alphonso, from having al­ways heard, during your prosperity, that never mi­nistry was so glorious as your's, nor ever minister so loved and respected by a nation: the love of the people, therefore, and the glory you have acquired, ought to console you for your unjust disgrace. Be­sides, you have many friends, who, no doubt, will all return as usual, the moment you shall wish them so to do. Don Nugnez, Don Alvarez, and many others, whom I have met, have all protested as much to me; [...]everal of them have even told me, that they have only seemed to absent themselves, the better to serve you in secret; add to which, you still have an immense fortune, and an illu [...]o [...]s birth; and in spite of the snares of envy, will ever remain the first peer of the realm.

You are deceived, Alphonso, interrupted Don Ra­mirez; what, are you ignorant that the name of my father was absolutely unknown?

I know it was replied Alphonso; but I also know that the old titles which you have re [...]ed in our fa­mily, make it equal to any in the kingdom. You yourself, my father, have deigned to read those pre­cious [Page 13] proofs of honour, which are contained in the casket that is locked up in your cabinet.

Don Ramirez listened and sighed; he had had the ridiculous vanity to purchase a genealogy, and never sufficiently felt, till his disgrace, how superfluous, unworthy, and contemptible is such deceit. At last he saw what flattery till then had hidden, which was, that, except his son, every body knew his birth, and laughed at his silly pretensions. He wished to unde­ceive Alphonso, but could not resolve to confess a falsity which must make him appear so mean.

He was in this mournful perplexity and silence when he was suddenly staggered, and saw Alphonso reel; the colour forsook his cheeks, and he rose; save your­self, my father, cried Alphonso, support yourself on my arm, follow—come—

So saying, he impetuously hurried his father away; at the same instant a thousand confused cries were heard; they ran towards the stair-case, and as they ran, the floor opened beneath the feet of Alphonso, who, that he might not drag his father down to de­struction, quitted the arm of Don Romirez, instantly sunk, and seemed buried in the ruins.

Alphonso had the good fortune, however, to be only slightly wounded; he rose, and found himself in his father's cabinet: amongst the rubbish which surrounded him, were two caskets, one containing the jewels of his father, the other, the so much vaunted genealogy. Alphonso did not hesitate: willing to save, amidst this dreadful disaster, that which appeared to him most precious, he s [...]ized the box of titles, and fled into the garden; but recol­lecting [Page 14] the danger of his father, was determined, at the hazard of his life, again to enter the house, when he heard Don Ramirez calling him at the other end of the garden.

It was not without difficulty they rejoined each other; the earth on which they trod, like the sea a­gitated by a violent tempest, rose in mountains, or sunk in dreadful vallies beneath Alphon [...]o's feet. His ear was struck [...] a subterranean found, like the roar­ing of waves [...] breaking upon the rocks; he staggered, fell, got up, and fell again, and, unable to keep upon his feet, crept on all sours, with great difficulty, towards his father. He saw the earth o­pen on all sides, and forming gulphs, whence issued [...]ire and flame, which rose and vanished in the air; the heavens became dark, the pale and livid lightning pierced through the black clouds that covered them, the deep thunders rolled, and Alphonso beheld the bolts of heaven ready to fall upon his head, and hell opening beneath his feet.

Often when he imagined himself within a step of his father, a new shock threw them at a distance; the sweat ran down his face, his cloaths and hair were covered with sand and dust: yet, amidst the scene of horrors, he never abandoned his dear casket; [...]he imagined Don Ramirez would receive it with transport: that idea sustained his courage and his stre [...]gth. At last he rejoined his father, who re­ [...]eived him with open arms, though with an aching heart. Oh my father! cried Alphonso, look, I have saved the casket.

The jewels! hastily interrupted Don Ramirez.

[Page 15] No, no, replied Alphonso; I knew better how to chuse; it is your genealogy.

Don Ramirez, in dreadful consternation, raised his eyes to heaven: I am justly punished, said he, for my ridiculous vanity. He could say no more, his tears interrupted his speech. Alphonso, too much prepossessed and agitated to comprehend the meaning of these words▪ continued in his former error, and thought only of saving his father. A moment's calm left them time to consider the mournful objects that surrounded them.

They sat down opposite their palace, now half destroyed: that magnificent palace, built within the last ten years, that palace so new, so rich, so admir­ed, is now only a heap of ruins. He who had be­held the bare walls, the mouldered columns, the glassless windows, must have believed that time alone could have produced so terrible a revolution! Ages seemed necessary to destroy a monument built with so much solidity, and yet the fearful destruction is the work of a few minutes!

The garden too, that master-piece of art and na­ture, is now an unmeaning chaos of dust, mud, and mouldered leaves. In the morning there was seen a superb cascade, where is it now? In the very spot where an artificial mount was raised, at a prodigious expence, gapes a dreadful gulph. What are become of the citron groves, the marble statues, the vases of alabaster and of porphyry? A few vestiges still re­main, a few broken fragments; the rest is swallowed up and lost!

[Page 16] Don Ramirez looked at the surrounding dissolution; he was sitting near a little wood that had risen be­neath his own eyes; the trees are all torn up by the roots, scattered here and there, buried or extended in the mire: those trees, destined to survive the hand that planted them, are torn from the bosom of the earth, with as much ease and rapidity, as the verdure and yielding flowers that grew beneath their shade.

Oh! day of horrors! cried Don Ramirez aloud, loft labours, treasures interred in this place of terrors; why did not I make a better use of the money this building and this garden have cost? But the earth­quake is abated (2), let us endeavour to regain the ruins, let us save my diamonds, if possible.

So saying, he arose, and at the same instant a new and dreadful shock extended him again upon the ground: the remaining walls tumbled, the rubbish was ingulfed, and the palace disappeared; a whirl­wind, and cloud of [...]moke and dust rose as it were at his feet; yet, amidst this scene of desolation, Don Ramirez perceived a moment after a band of harden­ed wretches, bearing lighted torches, and creeping towards the ruins of the palace, with an intent, be­fore the last shock, to pillage (3).

Alphonso wished to punish such unbridled villainy, and would have rushed upon them, had not his father caught and retained him in his arms. Oh! my son, said Don Ramirez, bathing him with a deluge of tears, let us fly from this scene of horrid destruction; we are near the banks of the Tagus, let us seek shel­ter and safety on board the ships.

[Page 17] Alphonso gave one arm to his father, held the casket in the other, left the garden, and entered one of the public squares: the houses were all in ruins, overthrown, or consumed, by the flames of a general conflagration. After a thousand fearful risks, Don Ramirez and the young Alphonso, at last, found pro­tection on board a vessel, commanded by the brave and generous Fernandes. The same Fernandes, who formerly had so much cause to complain of Don Ra­mirez, but who, in this time of public calamity, saw, only, in an ancient enemy, an unhappy man, to whom his assistance was become necessary. He ran to Don Ramirez, embraced and consoled him; for compassion in great minds is so forcible and so delicate, that it can soften woes the most cruel. In the mean time, as Fernandes did not once bewail his own situation, Don Ramirez questioned him concerning it. You had, said he, a great fortune, is it not all lo [...]t in this dreadful day?

My house at Lisbon is consumed.

The loss is, no doubt, considerable.

No; the building was small and simple.

Your jewels and diamonds; are they saved?

I had none.

You had a garden.

Yes; but far removed from Lisbon, where I passed the greatest part of my time; it is in Alentejo^*

I have heard of it, and hope to God the earthquake has not ravaged that province. Is your country-house a fine one?

[Page 18] No; but it is convenient.

Have not you formed some advantageous establish­ments there?

Some satisfactory ones; a manufactory, and a hos­pital. (Don Ramirez sighed.)

Is your manufactory profitable?

Yes; it gives subsistence to a number of workmen, and defrays, in part, the expences at the hospital.

I see you make a worthy use of your wealth; hea­ven preserve it to you. It is, indeed, horrible, to be ruined with a benevolent heart, and to be obliged to relinquish such honourable, such glorious establish­ments.

One should then find consolation in the remembrance of the good one had formerly done.

Don Ramirez again fetched a profound sigh, and bitterly regretted the use he had made of his fortune; his eyes at last were opened; but too late, alas! ei­ther for his glory or repose.

Thus totally ruined, Don Ramirez received from his sovereign, thanks to the solicitations of the noble Fernandes, a small pension, though sufficient to a [...]ord the means of subsistence. With this he determined to retire to the province of Beira, whither he depart­ed with his son, and settled in an obscure, but pleasant retreat, on the agreeable banks of the Mondego; but, followed by deep regret, and incessant recollection, he found not the tranquillity he sought.

Alphonso, devoted to ambition, and nothing abated in presumption and pride, consoled himself for the loss of fortune, by the hope, that in time, he should establish a more brilliant, and far more solid one than [Page 19] what his father's had been. He formed a thousand extravagant and chimerical projects, the absurdity of which his ignorance and vanity did not suffer him to perceive: incapable of reflecting and employing his time in a useful and rational manner, he passed a great part of it in reading romances; these frivolous and dangerous books heated his imagination, and gave him false ideas of men and things.

Not far from the retreat he inhabited, was the famous Fountain of Love; a name it owed to two unfortunate lovers, who, in ancient times, often met on its brinks, drawn thither by an imprudent passion. There it was that Don Pedro, and the beautiful, the tender Ines, a thousand times discoursed of their se­cret loves^*. Two antique palm-trees overshaded the Fountain, united to each other by a flexible gar­land of vine branches and ivy. The water rises im­petuously from a majestic rock, returns in a cascade, and forms, upon a bed of shells, a large rivulet, which slowly winds, and gently murmurs, among eternal verdures, shrubs of myrtle, of citron, and the laurel rose.

Thither Alphonso often went to read and ruminate. One morning, happening to go later than ordinary, he heard, as he drew near the Fountain, two per­sons speaking in an unknown tongue: in one of their voices Alphonso found an inexpressible sweetness, [Page 20] which wonderfully excited his curiosity; he hid him­self, with emotion, behind a myrtle bush, through the branches of which he discovered an object most worthy of fixing his attention; a young nymph, for so she seemed, scarce fifteen, of the most perfect beauty, was sitting on the banks of the Fountain, beside a man, who appeared to be her father; to him she was listening with the utmost attention, and by her looks it was evident he was reciting some interest­ing event.

As he proceeded, he often pointed to the palm-trees and the fountain, whence Alphonso supposed he was relating the history of the unhappy Ines. The angelic listener had fixed her eyes upon the unknown relater, and kept a profound silence; but, from the expression of her countenance, her thoughts might easily be divined; curiosity, fear, and pity, were successively painted in her eyes; and with so much energy, that Alphonso imagined himself was hearing a tale that she was telling; he saw her tears, and wept with her the death of Ines. Presently her eyes became suddenly dry, her cheeks pale, and terror and indignation succeeded to pity. Alphonso shud­dered in sympathy, detesting the excess to which pas­sion, and a desire of vengeance had carried the un­fortunate Don Pedro.

The history of Ines is ended, and yet the stranger continues speaking; no doubt he is making prudent reflections on the danger of the passions, and on the criminal and fatal imprudence of a young woman, who, without the consent of her parents, dared to chuse for and dispose of herself.

[Page 21] The beauteous hearer ran to the arms of the stran­ger, with all the expression of the strongest feeling: then turning her glistening eyes towards that Foun­tain, which had formerly been a witness of the in­discreet vows of love; she sighed, fell on her knees, raised her clasped and eager hands to heaven, and seemed to promise the author of her days [...]n eternal obedience; her beauty, in that attitude, had some­thing celestial and angelic.

Alphonso could not contain his extatic transports; an exclamation escaped aloud, and fearing to be dis­covered, he hastily fled from his hiding-place, full of the idea of what he had seen. He followed the first path he found, but presently awaking from his dream, again returned towards the Fountain. The beaute­ous stranger was gone, and Alphonso contemplated with grief the place where she had sat, and thought he still saw her on her knees before her father. The next moment he remembers her absence, his heart is oppressed, his eyes filled with tears, he is plunged in­to a profound and melancholy meditation, when sud­denly he hears a cry of terror, which pierces him to the very heart.

He runs, he flies; but what does he behold! It is the stranger, alone, pale, dishevelled, and flying from a mad bull that pursues her. Alphonso darts towards her, seizes her in his arms, and bears her off, at the very moment, when, overcome by the ex­cess of fear, she was fallen, not ten pa [...]es from the furious animal.

Alphonso, charged with a burden so precious▪ ra­ [...]ly turns aside behind the palm-trees of the Foun­tain, [Page 22] and bears her senseless in his arms in safety upon a high rock.

Here he perceived the father of the stranger, run­ning, wild, and, as soon as he saw his daughter in safety, blessing God and her deliverer. At the same instant the bull returned, and bent his course towards the father, who had not time to avoid him, or mount the rock. In vain did Alphonso still hold his sense­less prize in one arm, and extend the other towards her father; the latter cried aloud to him in Portu­guese, not to abandon his daughter on that danger­ous summit, and ran himself immediately behind one of the largest of the palm-trees of the fountain.

The bull endeavoured to pass between them; the passage was narrow, he was in full speed, his body became fixed between the trees, and his head and horns entangled in the festoons of ivy and vine-trees. The stranger seized the advantage of the moment, drew an etwee case from his pocket, opened it, took out a pin, and rain it in the back of the bull; but how great was the surprize of Alphonso! when he heard the bull bellow dreadfully, saw him drop, struggle to rise, again fall down, and, after a few vain efforts, expire.

Nay now, but sure, cried all the children at once, that is not possible.

Pardon me, said Madame Clémire, but it is.

What, mamma! cried Caroline; a bull killed by the prick of a pin!

Yes, my dear; it is very true.

Then I hope you will not say, said Pulcheri [...], [...] was so very wrong, to cry, when the r [...]se- [...] pricked my fingers.

[Page 23] That thorn was not quite so dangerous as the pin of the stranger.

Was it very long, mamma?

Much shorter than the pins with which I pin on my hat.

This seems incredible. Shall we find the expla­nation of this prodigy in your notes?

Assuredly.

That will be very curious.

Oh, I have many other things, far more astonish­ing to tell you yet.

It is a delightful story: do, dear mamma, have the goodness to go on; we will not interrupt you any more.

Alphonso, continued Madame de Clémire, was not less surprised than you are, at the sudden death of the bull; amazement rendered him motionless, while the stranger ascended the rock, and took his daughter in his arms, just as she began to recover the use of her senses and look around. Alphonso was not an unfeel­ing witness of the pure joy testified by the father and daughter; the latter did not understand Portuguese, therefore could not thank Alphonso; but she related to her father, in a few words, the dreadful danger from which she had been delivered.

The stranger testified a lively sense of gratitude [...] the generous protector of his dear Dalinda [...] was the name of his lovely daughter; and while [...] spoke, Dalinda cast a tender glance at Alphonso, [...] more expressive than the thanks of her father. Alphonso, penetrated and enraptured, endeavoured [...] prolong a conversation so sweet, by questioning the [Page 24] stranger, concerning the manner in which he had been separated from his daughter: he replied, that he had been culling simples; that Dalinda, occupied after the same manner, was at some distance from him, but not out of sight; that lifting up his head, he had seen her running with incredible swiftness; that she had already got above six hundred yards from him, and that at the same moment be perceived the bull pursu­ing her; that he ran after her with all his power, but had stumbled over the stump of an old tree, and fallen.

Having finished his recital, Alphonso asked if he intended to stay long in Portugal? No, answered the stranger, we set off immediately for Spain, being de­sirous of seeing as much of that kingdom as possible. This intelligence threw Alphonso into the utmost consternation! He hung down his head, and was mournfully silent; the stranger, after again repeating his thanks and gratitude in the most affectionate terms, rose, took his leave, and disappeared with Dalinda.

Alphonso remained, some time, petrified, and scarcely seeming to breathe; at last, coming to him­self, he flung impetuously from the fountain, and flew to find the stranger once again, to ask him a thousand [...]tions, and especially to enquire what was his [...], [...] what his country. He wondered how it was [...] ­ [...]ble he could have let him depart without first gai [...] such interesting information. He ran here and the [...] like a madman, but all his searches were in vain.

Overcome with fatigue and despair, he returned once more to the Fountain. As he drew near, he [Page 25] saw something shining in the path, and approaching, found it was a large blue ribbon embroidered with gold, his heart beat, he knew it to be the scarfe of Dalinda. It was in that very place that Dalinda, overcome with terror, had fallen senseless; and there it was that Alphonso, raising her in his arms, had untied the ribbon that girded her waist.

Alphonso affected, stooped with transport and re­spect, to take up a ribbon so precious; the sash of Dalinda was the cestus of innocence, and the girdle of the graces. He sighed, and vowed for ever to preserve a pledge so dear to his heart, which he had thus acquired by chance. In the mean time the hours glided away, Alphonso could not tear himself from the Fountain; and night and darkness had surprized him, still plunged in his reverie, if Don Ramirez had not come to search for him himself.

Don Ramirez had never taken any part in his son's education; had never asked, nor ever possessed his confidence. Alphonso did not mention his adventure to him; but, on the contrary, carefully concealed the thoughts and emotions of his soul. Devoted to the romantic ideas which seduced his imagination, he had only one pleasure, that of passing his hours at the Fountain, where he first beheld Dalinda; there every thing recalled the object, which reason ought to have erased from his memory; here Dalinda, at the knees of her father, was retraced in his fancy; here, in his fixed thoughts, she still lived in all her bloom of beauty, adorned with every charm of inno­nocence and virtue; near this shrubbery, Dalinda owed to him her life; upon that rock she opened her [Page 26] eyes, and cast a look of sweet thankfulness upon Al­phonso; beneath these palm-trees did she sit, and that clear water once reflected her seraphic form.

Thus did Alphonso consume his days, in vain re­grets upon the dangerous brink of this fatal spring. Such does fable paint the wretched Narcissus, a feeble victim of insensate love; and so did Alphonso, pale, dejected, without force, without courage, fix his eyes, drowned in his tears, upon the Fountain of Love. The echoes of this solitary place, which anciently so often resounded with the name of Ines, repeat at present, only that of Dalinda. Dalinda is carved upon every tree, even on the very palm-trees, on which formerly Ines alone was read. Alphonso sung to his guittar the verses he had written on Dalinda, and engraved upon the rocks the rhymes that love and melancholy dictated.

These romantic follies totally occupied him for some time: but as the pleasures which reason disap­proves are never durable, his imagination cooled by degrees, and wearisome disgust succeeded enthusi­asm; his songs and complaints began to cease, the echoes of the Fountain became mute, and the trees, the streams, and verdure, no longer could inspire him with poetry and profound reveries.

Don Ramirez observed the alteration of body and mind which had happened to his son; he questioned him, and Alphonso confessed himself dissatisfied and consumed with ennui. He had not forgot, that the stranger told him he should remain some time in Spain; and Alphonso added, he ardently desired to travel through, and become acquainted with that [Page 27] country. Don Ramirez, who, for his own part, had none of those resources in himself, which make men fond of solitude, gladly seized this proposition, and two days after they departed for Spain. After tra­versing the province of Tralos-Montes, they entered Spain by Galicia; they then travelled through the northern part of Spain, the Asturi [...]s, Biscaye, Na­varre, Arragon, and arrived at last in Catalonia (4).

Alphonso's passion for Dalinda was rekindled by this voyage; the hope and the desire of once more finding her, acquired new force from thoughts, which an enthusiastic imagination had at first produced. He was impatient to arrive at Madrid, thinking he could not fail to meet her in this metropolis, but Don Ra­mirez would absolutely remain some time in Catalo­nia, in order to visit the famous Mont-Serrat; this mountain, composed of steep rocks, is so high, that, when arrived on its summit, the neighbouring moun­tains that surround it, seem so diminished, as to look little more than mole-hils; and the views from thence are the most majestic and extensive possible^*

At the foot of one of these solitary rocks is an an­tique monastry^†. ‘But the most interesting part of the mountain is the desert, in which are several hermitages, affecting asylums in the eyes of true philosophy: each of these retreats contain a cha­pel, [Page 28] a cell, a small garden, and a well, dug in the rock. The Hermits who inhabit them, are most of them gentlemen, who, disgusted with the world, come to this place of tranquillity and rest, and give themselves up entirely to meditation^‡.’

At break of day, Don Ramirez and his son began to ascend Mont-Serrat; the aspect of the mountain, might well have made them renounce their design; its prodigious elevation, and the enormous and crag­gy rocks which projected on every side, promised no agreeable walk; but in travesing these menacing steeps, delicious vallies, meadows, enamelled with a thousand flowers, thickets formed by the simple hand of nature, and cascades, which throw themselves from the white and stoney ridges with animating tumult, give a thousand varieties, and embellish this solitude, which is become the fortunate refuge of peace and virtue (5).

Don Ramirez, on entering the desert, met one of these Hermits reading as he walked. He was struck by his noble and venerable figure; he passed near them, and as Don Ramirez was speaking with his son, the Hermit, hearing the Portuguese tongue, took his eyes from his book, and approached the strangers. He told Don Ramirez, how happy he was once more to meet a countryman, and invited them both to rest a while in his hermitage. The proposition was gratefully accepted, and the venera­ble Recluse brought them vegetables and fruit.

After the repast, Alphonso, desirous of continu­ing his walk, left them, telling his father he would [Page 29] wait for him in the desert. The old man led Don Ramirez to his garden, and there they sat themselves down beside a gentle water-fall, upon a rock over­grown with moss.

Don Ramirez, then addressing himself to the Her­mit, said, what revolution, what cruel reverse of for­tune, my father, can have torn you from your native country, and fixed you in this desert? It is easy to see by your manners you were not born to end your days in a wilderness like this.

No, replied the Hermit, it has been my misfortune to know the world, and the Court.

These words inspired Don Ramirez with the most ardent curiosity, which the Hermit consented to sa­tisfy.

It imports you but little, said he, to know my name: I have been twelve years an inhabitant of this mountain. By this time they believe in Portugal that I am dead. I have devoted myself to oblivion, there­fore I will not speak of my family, but in as few words as possible relate my deplorable story.

Madame de Clémire was continuing to read, but the Baronness gave the signal of retreat; in vain were several voices at once heard, entreating for one quar­ter of an hour more; the rule was absolute.

The following evening Madame de Clémire again opened her manuscript, and said, we left off yesterday where the Hermit was going to recount his history. Don Ramirez listened; the Hermit sighed, and thus he said:

Don Ramirez was greatly disturbed at this part of the Hermit's recital, but the old man perceived not his emotion, and continued his story.

[Page 34] The Hermit stopped, he saw Don Ramirez look wildly round, and rise from his seat. You tremble, said he; my excess of hatred, and desire of revenge, has made you afraid of hearing the remainder of my story; but fear not, I have nothing farther of tra­gic to tell. Heaven converted my heart; I soon abhorred the revenge which religion condemns.

Don Ramirez again moved, without answering; and, after a few minutes, astonishment and terror made him motionless; then suddenly starting—Where am I! cried he, in what asylum!

What is the meaning, sir, said the Hermit, of that fearful agitation in which I see you? What impru­dence have I been guilty of; Is my persecutor known to you? Is he your friend?

This Persecutor! this Barbarian! this Monster! was Ramirez!

It was, sir, I confess it; he was the author of all my misery.

This Ramirez! this—

Repeat not that dreadful name, sir; I shudder when I hear it.

Unhappy Alvarez! Learn, at least, heaven has punished your enemy.

What say you? Does he no longer govern Portu­gal?

Ruined, stripped, without relations, without friends; he has little left but vain regret, and never-ending remorse.

Does he suffer! I am sorry!

Sorry! Is it possible?

[Page 35] Doubt it not. But wherefore do you weep, sir? What ray of light breaks upon my mind? Oh God! Can it be?

Yes!—I am that wretch, cried Don Ramirez, cast­ing himself at the Hermit's feet, who, penetrated with involuntary horror, drew back. Oh! reverend father; continued Don Ramirez, following on his knees, and seizing his vest, Stop, hear me, holy man! I own I have merited thy hatred; no words can ex­press the horror with which my presence ought to in­spire thee, but remember I now an unfortunate. And yet I have a son, who might console, might—Oh! cease, holy father! to curse me! Cease to pray my son may make me more miserable!

Oh God! cried the Hermit; Don Ramirez! in this place! beneath this poor roof! a suppliant at my feet, and giving me the sacred title of father! a title formerly my greatest glory and my bliss! a title which he robbed me of!—▪Yet—fear nothing, said he, casting a look of compassion on Don Rami­rez; I again repeat it, hatred has long been banish­ed this bosom. Thou callest thyself unhappy; com­plainest of fortune! Art thou persecuted? Art thou proscribed? Speak—This grotto shall become thy place of refuge; in partaking it with thee, I shall observe the holy rites of hospitality. Fear no unworthy reproaches; if my succour be necessary to thee, thou [...] in me only the father and the friend.

Oh! greatness of soul, which confounds me! ex­claimed Don Ramirez Can man then elevate his soul to so sublime a degree of virtue?

[Page 36] No, Ramirez, answered the Hermit; seek not for that generosity in the heart of man, which is not in nature; admire not the feeble Alvarez, but acknow­ledge and adore the high hand of heaven.

Thus saying, he held out his arms, and advanced to embrace Don Ramirez, whose tears bedewed the bosom of the virtuous man; that bosom, which for­merly he had so cruelly torn.

A quarter of an hour after this reconciliation, Alphonso returned to the Hermitage. Don Rami­rez took his leave of the Hermit, and quitted the mountain, bearing with him remorse the most griev­ous, and apprehensions the most fearful; he could not remove from his mind, the malediction so solemnly pronounced against him by Alvarez; he saw its ef­fect already in the loss of his fortune; and notwith­standing the generous pardon he had received, he felt himself too guilty not to dread the wrath of hea­ven, and its injustice towards the injured Alvarez. Alas! cried Ramirez, in his height of anguish, he remitted vengeance to the arm of God! Such ven­geance must be terrible! Oh my son! tho [...] art to become the instrument of my punishment; Alphon­so must chastise his father; he is the avenger of Al­varez!

Full of these melancholy thoughts, Don Ramirez became absent, silent, and gloomy; often as he look­ed at his son, would the tears rush to his eyes: a vague dread would come over him, and an inexplica­ble terror seize his heart. He no longer felt the happiness of being a father.

[Page 37] They left Catalonia, after having visited Tarrago­na and Tortosa (6), and went to Madrid, where Alphonso vainly hoped once more to meet Dalinda. He learnt, however, from the description he gave of her, she had been there; that her father was a Swede, his name Thelismar; that he intended to remain some time in Spain, and that he had then taken the route to Grenada.

This intelligence, which he had been careful to procure unknown to his father, gave him an ardent desire to go to Grenada; and Don Ramirez, who every where carried his inquietude with him, readily consented to leave Madrid sooner than he had intend­ed.

They went first to Toledo, where they saw the Alcazar, or ancient Moorish Palace^*; the architec­ture of which, is a mixture of the Roman, Gothic, and Moriscan. What they most admired in this pa­lace, was a hospital for the poor of the city and it's environs, established by the Archbishop of Toledo. This hospital contains manufactories and drawing-schools. They educate about two hundred children, to whom they give a habit of labour, and a love of virtue. Old men and women likewise find an asylum in this ancient palace, thus consecrated by religion to suffering humanity (7).

After a short stay at Toledo, our travellers went to Cordova, in their route to wich they crossed the Sierra-Morena [Page 38] ^*, a wild and uncultivated tract of land, which the active and beneficent genius of an individu­al (8), has since metamorphosed into an habitable and agreeable country.

Cordova is built upon the borders of the Guadal­quivir, and is overlooked by a chain of mountains, continually covered with verdure, which are a part of the Sierra-Morena. This city, formerly so famous, retains little of [...] ancient grandeur, except a large extent of ruins, and a superb Mosque, built by Ab­derama (9).

Don Ramirez staid three days at Cordova, and con­tinued his journey. Alphonso saw not the walls of Grenada without emotion (10); he flattered himself he should find Dalinda in that city, but he did not long preserve that hope. Notwithstanding the cares of love, he was forcibly struck with the delightful situation of Grenada, the beauty of it's buildings (11), and the antique and curious monuments, the remains of which, at every step, recall the remembrance of Moorish magnificence. Alphonso visited, with rap­ture, the Alhambra and Generalif, and amused him­self in places full of inscriptions and verses, which retraced to his memory the ancient gallantry of Gre­nada's Kings, the Misfortune's of the Abencerages, the persecutions and triumphs of a virtuous Queen (12), and all the marvellous adventures with which history and romance abound.

[Page 39] Alphonso, however, more and more uneasy about Dalinda and her father, soon learnt they had left Grenada almost a fortnight, and were gone to Cadiz; and that they talked of staying there six weeks, and afterwards of embarking for the coast of Africa. This news afflicted him much; he endeavoured not to per­suade his father to go thither, for Don Ramirez had declared Grenada should be the last place he would wander to, and that he would afterwards return to Portugal.

The desire of travelling, of finding Dalinda, the hope of making a great fortune, ambition, love, and especially pride, idleness, and curiosity, inspired the culpable Alphonso, with the imprudent and cruel re­solution of secretly flying to Cadiz, and abandoning his father. He felt great uneasiness in coming to this determination, but he suppressed such salutary remorse which he could not help feeling, and employed all his powers to find specious reasons that might excuse, and even dignify this criminal act.

My father, said he, has lost his fortune; he has only a small pension, not sufficient for both of us; in taking half his expence away, I shall double his in­come. I feel I am a charge to him; I even perceive my company is not so agreeable to him as formerly; he is become pensive and silent, my conversation fa­tigues, and my presence lays him under restraint. Besides, in seeking to distinguish myself, and emerge from obscurity, is it not for him I labour? If I can procure wealth, to him shall it be dedicated. My absence may give him some uneasiness for a time, but my return will ensure his felicity.

[Page 40] Such were the reflections of Alphonso, who sigh­ed while thus he reasoned, and his cheeks were be­dewed with tears. Had he consulted his heart, duty, honour, and reason would soon have resumed their functions; but he endeavoured to deceive himself, and he succeeded; without the power, however, of total­ly stifling the voice of conscience.

He had taken care to seduce one of the servants into his design, and had consulted with him on the means of flight. It was agreed that Alphonso should go off in the evening; that the servant should wait for him at the city gate with two horses, on which they should ride without stopping as far as Loxe, to which place the servant knew the road.

Alphonso had no money. Certain jewels which he happened to have about him on the day of the earthquake had been saved, all of which his father sold, except two diamond rings wich he had given his son. One of these Alphonso privately sold for four hundred piastres (about seventy guineas) which he thought a sum sufficient to make the tour of the world, if he pleased.

The day fixed for his flight he pretended a violent head-ache, in order to conceal his own anxiety, and induce Don Ramirez to go betimes to bed. Ac­cordingly, about eight o'clock, his father retired. Alphonso's heart was ready to burst when he bade him good night, and he ran, and shut himself in his chamber, whither he was pursued by his remorse.

Bathed in tears, he wrote to his father, to inform him of the motive of his flight, without mentioning what route he should take, or his passion for Dalinda. [Page 41] He sealed the letter, and left it on the table, that his father might find it on the morrow; then wrapping himself in a countryman's cloak, he put on thick-soled clouted shoes, took a staff in his hand, with his purse, and a pocket-book that contained his other ring, and Dalinda's sash properly concealed, opened a window, leaped into a court-yard, and went out of a private door, of which he had procured the key. He passed hastily along the streets, got through the city gate by means of his country disguise, found his servant waiting a little way out of town, mounted his horse, followed his guide, and proceeded towards Cadiz.

The darkness of the night would not permit him to travel as fast as he wished, while the fear of be­ing pursued, the grief of leaving his father, his in­quietude, remorse, and repentance, all stung him to the heart, and inspired him with a certain insur­mountable terror, which was doubly increased by the blackness of the night.

He had quitted Grenada about two hours, when he was awakened from his gloomy reverie by a most surprising phaenomenon: surrounded as it were by the deep, the profound obscurity of night, darkness in an instant disappeared, and light the most radiant, dazzled the astonished eyes of Alphonso. He rais­ed his head amazed, and beheld a globe of bright and shining fire in the heavens, precipitating itself somewhat horizontally towards the earth, and augment­ing as it fell. It exhibited a thousand dazzling co­lours, and left a long train of light that marked its path in the atmosphere. Having traversed a part of [Page 42] the horizon, it began to rise again by degrees, and shot forth on all sides sparks, and blazing sheaves, that seemed like vast artificial fire-works. At length the enormous ball opened, and sent forth two kind of volcanos, which formed themselves into two pro­digious rainbows, the one of which vanished in the north, the other in the south; the fiery globe be­came extinct, and the most impenetrable darkness instantly succeeded to day-light the most fervent (13).

Alphonso was forcibly and irresistibly alarmed by this prodigy. All uncommon accidents are ill omens to a troubled conscience. This was highly so to him; his grief and doubts were doubled, he increased his pace to get rid of his fears, and galloped the rest of the night without stopping.

At day-break his Valet perceived they had lost their way, and had struck into a cross road. Alphon­so looked round, and saw a barren mountaneous coun­try covered with rocks. Unable to discover any beaten track, he alighted, tied his horse to a tree, and fol­lowed by his Valet, went towards one of the highest and nearest rocks, hoping to discover from its sum­mit the town of Loxe, from which he imagined they could not be far distant.

Observe his country shoes were clouted with hob-nails all over; and his staff, being a peasant's, had a thick iron ferrule at the end.

Scarcely had Alphonso proceeded twenty paces upon the rock he meant to ascend, when he felt his feet fixed to the stone! he could not lift! he could not stir them! and his staff, too heavy to move, [Page 43] stood upright, and seemed to take root on this fatal rock (14)!

Oh, my father! cried he, heaven has undertaken to punish my ingratitude by a new, an unheard of miracle.

He could say no more. Remorse, astonishment, terror overwhelmed him; took away what little strength he had left, made him immoveable and mute, caused his hair to stand erect, and spread a death-like paleness upon his cheeks.

Oh dear mamma! cried Pulcheria, is he changed to a statue?

Not entirely, answered Madame de Clémire, smil­ing; though he himself dreaded he was, for that i­dea struck him as well as you.

And well it might, mamma. That invincible power that fixed him to the rock, might make him expect worse.

However, my dear, that invincible power was not supernatural. You remember I told you, the seem­ingly marvellous in my story should all be true.

And yet the globe of fire, and the fatal rock, ap­pear so extraordinary! But tell us, dear mamma, what became of poor Alphonso.

He remained petrified with terror in the situation I have described, when the sky became covered with clouds, the winds howled in the air, and the rain began to shower. But how was the terror, how was the horror of Alphonso increased, when he beheld that dreadful rain! When he saw, what he thought millions of huge round drops of blood, instantly cover the white rocks that surrounded him; felt them [Page 44] run in streams from his face, hands, and all parts of his body, and viewed rivers of blood descend on all sides to the green vallies (15)!

Uncommon terror gave uncommon strength. Al­phonso quitted his staff, which remained erect, plant­ed on the rock, and with violent efforts wrenched his feet from the adhesive stone, and fell almost senseless on the sand.

His Valet soon after, shocked with the miraculous shower, came running, and assisted his master. He had been seeking a track which he had discovered, and, as soon as they could sufficiently recover their strength and recollection, they once more mounted their horses, and left this scene of horrors.

Arrived at Loxe, he staid two or three hours to re­cover, then ordered mules and a guide, and pursued his journey. He crossed Mount Orespeda (16), pas­sed the ancient city of Antequerra, and did not stop till he came to Malaga. He arrived without any re­markable accident at Cadiz^* and put up at the first inn he came to.

As he was going up stairs he heard a female sing­ing, and accompanied by the harp. Alphonso trem­bled, and guided by the sound, approached the door of the appartment whence it issued. It was sure an Angel singing, and the harmony was heavenly! He could not mistake the voice, it went to his heart. Delighted, ravished, astonished, he hastily descend­ed [Page 45] the stairs, enquired for the master of the house, questioned him, and learnt his heart had not deceiv­ed him. Dalinda and Thelismar inhabited the house whither he had been conducted by chance.

Transported with the discovery he went into the court-yard, was shewn which were the windows of his Love, and then went and locked himself in his own room, that he might enjoy his unexpected feli­city without restraint.

In the afternoon he sent for a guittar, and in the evening, after supper, planting himself under Dalin­da's window, with a trembling hand he ventured to strike a few arpeggios. The window opened, and fearing to be overheard by Thelismar, who under­stood Portugueze, Alphonso durst not sing the ver­ses he had written on Dalinda at the Fountain of Love; but, in timid accents, and an irresolute voice, he sang the Torments of Absence.

In about a quarter of an hour the window was shut, and on the morrow Alphonso again began to sing, but in vain, it opened no more: and this rigour af­flicted him as deeply, as though it had destroyed hopes that had some foundation.

Alphonso formed a thousand projects relative to his passion, and executed none of them. He ardently longed once more to see Dalinda, but never could de­termine to present himself as an adventurer. His intention, when he left his father, was to offer him­self as a companion to Thelismar during his travels, not doubting but his knowledge and talents would make this proposition very acceptable; and supposing [Page 46] likewise that gratitude, for having saved the life of Dalinda, would put his reception out of doubt.

When passion forms projects, it is blind to all ob­stacles, will hear no objections; but fearing all rea­sons which may deter it from what it is previously determined to do, it never discovers it's own folly and imprudence till they are past remedy.

Full of fear, incertitude, and hesitation, Alphonso could resolve upon nothing. He had carefully con­cealed himself from Dalinda and her father, when one night he was informed that Thelismar had prepared every thing for his departure, and that he was to go on board the Intrepid at break of day, which vessel was to carry him to C [...]uta^*.

This intelligence determined the irresolute Alphon­so; he sold his remaining ring, went to the captain of the ship, obtained his passage, got on board before day-break, and took possession of his little cabin. He had not been there a quarter of an hour, before he heard the voice of Thelismar, and presently afterwards the anchor was weighed, and the vessel set sail.

Before dinner-time, when the passengers must meet at the captain's table, Alphonso collected force enough to desire a moment's audience of Thelismar, which was immediately granted; and with an anxiety and agitation impossible to paint he entered the cabin. Thelismar was alone, and turning his head at the creaking of the door, he beheld Alphonso. He could [Page 47] not forget the deliverer of his daughter; he instantly rose, ran to Alphonso, and embraced him with all the warmth of the most tender friendship.

Transported with joy, Alphonso felt hope spring in his heart! He answered the questions of Thelismar, however, with more embarassment than truth. Afraid to confess his faults, my father, said he, had former­ly an immense fortune; but now, with barely what is necessary, he lives retired on the peaceful banks of the Mondego. He approves my desire to travel, and hopes, with the education he has bestowed on me, I may become known, and acquire fame, and—

What is your age! And what are your projects in quitting your country, and your father?

I knew, sir, you were in Spain, heard you intend­ed to go to Africa, and flattered myself you would permit me to follow you as a companion in your tra­vels.

You were not deceived in me; I mean to traverse a great part of the known world; if you will be the associate of my labours, I joyfully consent.

Here Alphonso, at the height of his hopes, em­braced Thelismar with transport, and swore never to forsake him.

But, continued Thelismar, my travels will not end less than three or four years at soonest, how do you know your father will consent to this long absence?

Oh, I am very certain—

Well, if you love study, if, as I have no doubt, you possess noble and virtuous sentiments, you shall find in me a faithful friend, and a second father, hap­py, too happy, if by my cares and affection I may [Page 48] shew a part of my gratitude. Dalinda owes her life to you, and your empire over me is absolute.

Alphonso blushed at the name of Dalinda, and too much affected to reply, was silent.

I have need, added Thelismar, of consolation, and hope to find it in your friendship.

Of consolation! Are you then unhappy?

I am separated, and for four years, from objects the dearest to my heart! from my wife and daugh­ter!

From Dalinda!

Yes. I durst not expose her to the fatigues and dangers I shall undergo. We travelled through a great part of Europe together, I parted from her at Cadiz, and while we are riding towards the Afri­can coast, she is returning with her mother into Sweden.

Oh heaven! cried Alphonso in anguish; Africa and Sweden! What immense! what dreadful dis­tance between her and—you! How I pity you!—

Alphonso could no longer restrain his tears, and the conversation being interrupted by the entrance of the Captain, Alphonso went into his cabbin to hide and assuage the agitation of his heart In despair to think he must be four years absent from Dalinda▪ he yet was in some measure consoled by the friendship of her father, and determined to neglect nothing, by which it might be confirmed and increased.

Thelismar put several questions to him in the e­vening, and asked if he understood the elements of any of the sciences?

[Page 49] Oh yes, answered Alphonso, with great self-suffi­ciency. There is nothing I have not been taught.

Do you know any thing of geometry?

I had a mathematical master ten years.

Have you any acquaintance with natural history and philosophy?

Every thing of that kind is familiar to me: be­sides, I am passionately fond of the arts, understand music, and delight in drawing. I draw flowers charm­ingly.

Flowers! Do you love reading?

Very much.

Your language is not rich in good authors; but you know the Latin?

Oh perfectly! as you may imagine, for my teach­ers said I construed Virgil and Horace well at ten years old; so that I left the study of the classics at twelve, and have not looked at them since, having had other employment.

And I warrant you left mathematics also soon after?

I did. I then read generally, and soon began to write verses.

And from a scholar became a wit. The metamor­phosis is not always successful.

My poetry was very successful.

Among your friends, I suppose.

Oh universally.

How do you know?

Every body who visited my father told me so.

Alphonso's answer made Thelismar smile, and he changed the conversation. Presently afterwards the [Page 50] youth retired, persuaded he had given Thelismar a high opinion of his knowledge and genius. The next day Alphonso recollected the adventure of the mad bull, killed by the prick of a pin, at the Foun­tain of Love, and asked Thelismar the meaning of so extraordinary a death.

Thelismar replied, he had that very day received from an old friend just returned from America, a poison, so powerful and subtle, as to produce the ef­fect of which he had been a witness; that this friend had given him a case, which enclosed the fatal pin that had been dipped in the poison, and designing to make an experiment of its power, he happened to have it in his pocket (17).

But what surprises me, said Alphonso, is, that I have never heard speak of this poison.

I do not think that so very surprising, replied Thelismar; for, if I am not mistaken, there are ma­ny other extraordinary things of which you have ne­ver heard.

I will not say there are none, answered Alphonso, but I dare presume their number is very limited; for I have had teachers of all forts, and am not igno­rant; add to which, I have read much, and seen and remarked more.

What prompted Alphonso to brag with greater confidence was, he supposed he might do so without danger of detection; he looked upon Thelismar as a plain man, who had only one pursuit, that of bo­tany, and imagined him to be exceedingly ignorant of every thing else; in which he was frequently con­firmed, [Page 51] by the natural reserve and modesty of The­lismar.

Here Madame de Clémire stopped, put up her manuscript, and ended that evening's entertainment.

The next night, at the usual hour, after having begged her children not to interrupt her any more by their questions, Madame de Clémire thus continu­ed her narration.

At length they landed at Ceuta, and Thelismar hired a lodging for himself and Alphonso, at one of the best houses they could find.

Alphonso's first care on his arrival, was to write to his father a long letter, very contrite and sub­missive. In this he made a faithful confession of all his proceedings, implored his pardon, and permission to follow Thelismar in all his travels; and as the latter intended to stay at Ceuta long enough for Alphonso to receive an answer, he conjured Don Ra­mirez to fend his orders instantly, promising they should be obeyed, be they what they might. Not doubting his father had returned to Beira, his letter was directed accordingly.

Something easier, after thus in part relieving his conscience, Alphonso fell into his customary habits, sung, played on his guittar, and drew various flow­ers, which he thought master-pieces, and which he constantly carried to Thelismar, who, he continued to believe, was highly delighted with his talents.

Thelismar sent for him one morning, and said, as I know you are exceedingly fond of music and drawing, I thought I might do you a favour, by bringing you to see two very extraordinary children. [Page 52] One is a little boy, who draws astonishingly in your style, and the other a girl, who plays charmingly on the harpsichord; come and see them.

So saying, he conducted Alphonso into another room, but desired him to stop at the door; for, said he, youth you know is timid; and as you are a connoisseur, you might disturb them were you too near.

Very true, answered Alphonso; the girl blushed as we entered.

And can you then observe her emotion, added The­lismar?

Oh very plainly; she can hardly breathe, tho' her bosom heaves.

All this passed at the far end of the room from the young artists, and Alphonso, happy in the supposi­tion of his own repute, encouraged the musician as she played, calling out bravo! bravo! with as much pedantry and pride as any other demi-connoisseur, who supposes a word like that from him confers fame and satisfaction.

When she had finished her sonata, the little musi­cian made a low courtsey; Alphonso applauded, and Thelismar advanced.

Come, said he, now let us [...]ee the boy draw—stand there, behind him, and then you will overlook his work with more ease. Alphonso followed his di­rections, and remarked, it was odd enough the child should keep his gloves on, and surprising enough that he should design from his own invention, without any drawing to copy from.

[Page 53] And yet, said Thelismar, see how that flower gro [...], as it were, and is embellished beneath his fingers.

Wonderful! cried Alphonso; astonishingly cor­rect! Courage, my little fellow! There, shade that outline a little; that's it! The little angel! I de­clare I could not do better myself.

All these praises gave no disturbance to the child, who continued his work without remission, except removing it, to observe it at a distance occasionally, and blowing away the light dust of the crayon.

When the flower was finished, Alphonso ran di­rectly to kiss the child, and as suddenly started back with an interjection of astonishment.

Gently, said Thelismar, laughing, take care lest you should demolish the young artist.

Good heaven! It's a doll! a figure!

It is an automaton^*.

And the musician, what is she?

Own sister to the designer.

But did I not see her breathe?

You thought so; and you really saw her play with her singers upon the harpsichord. Hence you may learn, Alphonso, that it is unreasonable to place too high a value upon accomplishments which automatons may possess.

I will break my guittar directly, and burn my drawings.

[Page 54] That would be wrong, answered Thelismar. We should be astonished to see a man pass his life in▪ play­ing on the guittar, and designing flowers; but no one would blame you, when you use such things only as recreations, by way of agreeably saving time which would otherwise be lost, and without being proud of such trifling accomplishments.

This lesson made some impression upon Alphonso; but it was necessary he should receive many more, be­fore a thorough reformation could be effected.

Thelismar was ready to depart from Ceuta, yet Alphonso had received no letters from his father: imagining, therefore, that Don Ramirez approved his projects, by his not being in any haste to recall him home, he determined to proceed with Thelismar.

Some days previous to their departure for the Azore Islands, Alphonso, who had observed workmen busy about raising a kind of machine in the garden, the use of which he did not comprehend, learnt that it was done by the order, and under the direction of Thel­ismar, of whom he therefore enquired its use. The proprietor of this house has told me, said Thelismar, that the lightning has twice, within these twenty years, fallen upon, and damaged the building, and I have promised him it shall do so no more.

And which way can you prevent it?

By means of the thing you have seen.

I confess I do not comprehend.

That I can readily believe; and yet it is not the less true, that the lightning will now fall at the other end of the garden.

[Page 55] Four or five days after, there was a violent thunder­storm; Thelismar went to the window, and pointing with his cane towards a black cloud, which was seen over the house, look, said he, to Alphonso, at that cloud, it is going soon to remove from us, and follow the path which I shall direct: I intend that it shall open, and be dispersed at the end of that walk; so saying, Thelismar raised his cane towards the sky, while the cloud seemed obedient to his will, and durst not depart from the path which he prescribed in the air; at that instant he had the appearance of an en­chanter, who, by the power of his magic wand, commanded the elements.

Good God! cried Alphonso, what do I behold! You direct the clouds, and they obey, they go to the spot that you ordain.

You see them assembled, said Thelismar, and now they shall descend, and the lightning shall fall not thirty feet from yonder spot. Scarcely had he spoken, before the thunder began to roar, and its bolts were discharged exactly as Thelismar prescribed (18); who then shut his window, and went out of his room, leaving Alphonso petrified with astonishment.

The next day Thelismar, in presence of Alphonso, read aloud a letter he had received from Dalinda. Alphonso had by this time learnt the Swedish language, to the study of which he had applied with great assiduity, ever since he had first been told Dalinda was a Swede; and since he had travelled with Thelis­mar, his progress in that language had been astonish­ing. He was enchanted at the letter of Dalinda, and could not repress his feelings while he heard it read; [Page 56] he found an inconceivable delight in understanding words traced by the hand of Dalinda; he heard the ingenuous detail of her thoughts and sentiments, and imagined he heard her speaking; he obtained a know­ledge of the goodness of her heart and understanding, and that knowledge fixed for ever in the bosom of Alphonso the most inconstant of all the passions.

Alphonso was very desirous of having the letter in his own possession, and seeing Dalinda's writing; but Thelismar, after having read, put it in the drawer of his bureau. Alphonso, with his eyes fixed upon this drawer, heard no longer the discourse of Thelismar, but fell into a profound musing; Thelismar therefore took up a book, and Alphonso recollecting himself, left the room.

In the evening Alphonso returned to the same chamber, and Thelismar rising as he saw him enter, said, As you know we shall embark to-morrow morning for the Azores^*, I have various orders to give; if you will stay here I shall be back in half an hour. So saying, he left Alphonso sitting opposite the bureau.

This bureau enclosed the letter of Dalinda, and the key was not taken out of the drawer: Alphon­so felt a temptation, which at first he did not give [Page 57] way to; he passionately desired to open the drawer, and once more read the letter. He felt how much such an action was to be condemned, and yet, said he, this is not to pry into the secrets of Thelismar; he has read me the letter, I shall learn nothing new; I only wish to see, to contemplate the writing.

At last, after various struggles, Alphonso stifled his scruples, approached the bureau, and tremblingly took hold of the key; but scarcely had he touched it, before he received a stroke so violent that he thought his arm was broken Alphonso terrified, started back, and fell into an arm chair. Just heaven! cried he, what invisible hand is it that strikes (19)?

The door opened, and Thelismar appeared; what have you done Alphonso! said he, with a severe tone of voice.

Oh, sir, replied Alphonso, you, whose supernatu­ral art produces so many prodigies, you surely have the power to penetrate my most secret thoughts, read them at the bottom of my heart.

I can read nothing there, answered Thelismar, that can excuse an act like this. Remember Al­phonso, to betray a trust is unpardonable, and that a second fault of this kind would for ever deprive you of my esteem. As for the mysterious key, cried Thelismar, it is only hostile to indiscretion; it strikes none but those who would turn it without my leave. I now give you my permission to open the drawer, which you may do without danger.

Alphonso advanced, as he was desired, towards the bureau, opened the drawer, and cried, yes, Thelismar, I see that nothing is impossible to you; [Page 58] your discourse is full of wisdom, and your actions of astonishment: deign sir, ever to be my guide, my tutelar genius! My submission, affection, and gratitude, will, I hope, render me worthy of your cares. So saying, Alphonso, with a tender and re­spectful [...]ir, drew near to Thelismar, who only an­swered him by holding out his arms, and embracing him with affection.

The next day, after this adventure, Thelismar and his young travelling companion embarked for the A­zores. After a happy voyage, they landed at the island of St. George^*, where they rested for some days.

Thelismar lodged in a small house, the aspect of which pleased him; the owner was a Swede, who had been six years in the island. As they had only one agreeable apartment, Thelismar partook his bed-cham­ber with Alphonso, and had a bed made up for him beside his own. One night as Alphonso and Thelis­mar were in a sound sleep, they both awakened, and leaped up at the same moment; they imagined they felt the violent shock of an earthquake, and fled into a small garden, whither the master of the house, and several servants, who had likewise experienced the same sensation, ran for refuge; the latter brought flambeaux, for the darkness of the night was extreme; and in expectation of a disaster, like that of Lisbon, they remained there in great anxiety for the space of three hours; not having, however, felt the least emo­tion during this whole time, they determined then to [Page 59] return again to the house. Thelismar and Alphonso did not go to bed, but conversed till day-break.

Alphonso, who now no longer hid the name of his father from Thelismar, and who had often related to him the circumstances of the earthquake at Lisbon, did not let this occasion slip; but again gave a pompous description of the magnificent palace of Don Rami­rez, and an emphatic enumeration of the jewels and diamonds he possessed before that catastrophe.

When day began to appear, Thelismar and Alphon­so went to the window, whence they had an extensive, and most unusual prospect; how great was their asto­nishment, to see the house they lived in, and the gar­den totally separated from the land, and forming a small island in the midst of the sea; they shuddered at the danger they had been in, and could not con­ceive by what means the house, which had been thrown several fathoms from the main land, could sustain so violent a shock without being destroyed. It is no doubt, said Thelismar, the humble dwelling of a vir­t [...]ous man, preserved in so miraculous a manner by the justice of a divin [...] Providence.

As Thelismar was speaking, his chamber-door o­pened, and the master of the house entered. This venerable old man, as he approached Thelismar, fe [...]ch­ed a deep sigh, and said, I come to implore your pro­tection, sir—not for myself, but for my son. Though six years an exile from my native land, I have not forgot those men who are an honour to it; your name, sir, is not unknown to me. Our Monarch is the protector of genius and science; he honours you [Page 60] with a particular esteem, and I come to beg you will give me letters of recommendation for my son.

You intend to return into your own country then?

Yes, sir.

What accident first brought you out of it?

I was born in an humble condition: but, not­withstanding the smallness of my income, I found the means to give my son a good education, much superior to my rank of life. This son answered my expectations and cares so well, that he obtained by his merit, at five and twenty, an honourable and lu­crative employment. Some time after he fell in love with an amiable, rich young woman, and was upon the point of marrying her, when a dreadful accident obliged me to quit my country. There was a rich merchant who lodged in my house; this unhappy man was found one morning murdered in his bed, and his coffers broken open and robbed; all his ser­vants were taken into custody; and I, of my own accord, delivered myself into the hands of justice. The wretch who had committed the crime was my accuser; I had enemies, and the affair took an ill turn. Thanks, however, to the cares and protect­ors of my son, as they had not sufficient proof, I obtained my liberty: but I could not recover my character, I could not endure to live with ignominy, in a land where I had been generally beloved, and determined to become a voluntary exile. I endea­voured to conceal my intentions from my son; but he guessed them too certainly from my prepa [...]tions▪ I sold the little I possessed, and secretly departed by [Page 61] night; I regretted only the loss of my son. I left him, however, in possession of a good post; and knew that, notwithstanding our misfortunes, the young woman whom he loved still preserved her first affection. Consoled by such ideas, I endeavoured to support the excess of my misfortunes. I travelled in a post-chaise, and at day-break perceived myself e­scorted, as it were, by a stranger galloping on horse­back at some distance from my carriage; I looked out—but what was my surprize at the sight of my son; it is impossible to express what I felt; I stopt, jumped out of my carriage, and was instantly in my son's arms. What hast thou done cried I?

My duty, answered he.

But what is thy design? said I, bathing him with my tears.

To follow you, to consecrate the life you gave to your service.

But thy post, thy future fortune.

I have left them, abandoned all for your sake; all, even the woman I love: you see me weep, yet do not suppose, my father, but that I gladly sacri­fice every thing to you.

Since thou sawest my fatal resolution, wherefore did [...] thou not oppose it; knowest thou not the as­cendant thou hast over me?

Appearances condemn you; and though you are dearer than ever to me by your misfortunes, yet having lost your honour, your present flight is neces­sary; be comforted, you are still innocent and virtu­ou [...].

And dost thou not complain of thy own fate?

[Page 62] My own fate! can it be happier! have not I now an opportunity to prove my gratitude and filial affec­tion? To comfort my father in his distress? Shall not my hand dry his tears? Shall not my zeal and ten­derness dry their source? Oh, Yes, my father; suffer the love and reverence of a son to drive from your memory an unjust country, ungrateful relati [...]s, and faithless [...]iends. Heaven has destined me to fulfil the sacred duties of nature in all their extent; and should I, should you, complain of my fate? No; you, my father, who are a model for parents, you should enjoy the solid glory, the [...] happiness of having formed by your own instruction [...], and your own example, a son worthy of yourself.

You, sir, are a father, continued the old man, therefore can easily imagine how readily I [...]ed myself thus supported to my destiny. We travelled for some time before we [...]ixed [...] abode here. My son undertook some branches of commerce in partner­ship, and bought this house, where we have lived in a contented mediocrity.

It was my intention here to have ended my days; but the intelligence which I received about two months since, has made me change this resolution. My in­nocence at length is fully acknowledged; the monster, who had been guilty of the murder, having commit­ted new crimes, was apprehended and condemned. Before his death he publicly acquitted me, by con­fessing himself to be the murderer. We learnt at the same time, the young lady my son loved was still un­married. This has made me wish once more to return [Page 63] to my native land. We intended to have departed in half a year; but the disaster of last night, and the loss of my house, which, though not destroyed, is no longer habitable, must hasten my departure. It is therefore I come to ask recommendatory letters of you, sir.

I will give them you with pleasure, answered The­lismar, with emotion, and such as I would give a dear friend or brother. Oh, yes; doubt not but our just and beneficent sovereign will worthily reward the virtue of your son.

Oh, sir! cried the old man, with tears of joy in his eyes, permit me to bring him hither that he may thank you himself.

So saying, he went out without waiting for an an­swer; and Thelismar turning towards Alphonso, saw him mournfully leaning over a chair, and covering his face with his hands. Thelismar perceived he was weeping; wherefore, said he, would you hide your tears from me? Let them flow freely, they are an honour to your heart.

Thelismar was mistaken: he attributed those tears to compassion, which repentance and bitter remorse made flow. How criminal did Alphonso feel, when he compared his own conduct with that of the young man whose history he had just heard. This touch­ing recital had torn his very heart, and made painful and afflictive the sweetest of all sensations, the ad­miration of virtue.

The old man returned, leading his son by the hand; Thelismar clasped the young man to his breast; [Page 64] renewed the promises he had made his father, and dismissed them, penetrated with gratitude and joy.

Several inhabitants of the island soon arrived in light boats, to inquire the fate of those who inhabit­ed the small house, which they had seen so suddenly thrown, as it were, into the sea; they told Thelis­mar, that all the neighbouring houses had been de­stroyed, while that belonging to Zulaski (for that was the name of the virtuous young man) had been thus miraculously preserved.

Thelismar and Alphonso went on board the boats, and desired to be conducted towards that part of the island which had suffered least from the earthquake. [...]arce had they made a quarter of a league, before they were petrified with astonishment, at beholding eighteen islands newly risen from the bottom of the ocean (20).

Ye new creations of a just and beneficent God! cried Thelismar; ye new born isles, how does your aspect move my heart! Human industry will soon make you fertile. Oh, may you never be inhabited but by the virtuous!

After having coasted along some of the islands, Thelismar landed, and was received in a house where Zulaski came to rejoin him the same evening. As Zulaski embarked on board a vessel bound for Lisbon, in his return to Sweden, Alphonso committed two let­ters to his care; the one for his father, in which was set down their route, and the places they meant to stop at, earnestly conjuring him to write, and inform Alphonso of his will and pleasure; the other for a young man, who lived in the province of Beira, whom [Page 65] Alphonso entreated to write him news of his father, and to whom Alphonso likewise sent an exact itine­rary of his travels.

Zulaski, after receiving these letters and those of Thelismar, departed without delay; and a few days after, Thelismar and Alphonso embarked for the Ca­nary Islands^*. Thelismar made a long stay at Te­neriff; his first object was to go and admire the delightful district that lies between Rotava^† and Railejo: nature seems there to have assembled all she has of pleasant, useful, and majestic. Mountains co­vered with verdure; rocks which cast forth pure wa­ter; fertile meadows, fields of [...]ugar-cane, vineyards, woods, and shades for ever green^‡. Thelismar and Alphonso knew not how to tear themselves from the enchanting spot; they passed an entire day there, [Page 66] sometimes walking, sometimes sitting beneath the shade of the plaintain-tree, reading passages from O­vid, or Camoen's Lusiad.

Alphonso's imagination full of the agreeable ideas of fable, wished, before he quitted that charming place, to carve four verses he had just written upon the bark of a tree: he, for this purpose, went to one much like the pine in appearance, drew his knife, began to cut, and saw the blood follow the wound (21); tempted to suppose he had wounded a nymph, metamorphosed to a tree, he recoiled with terror, and the murderous weapon dropt from his hand. Thelis­mar smiled, and encouraged him, by protesting there was nothing miraculous, nothing wonderful in this seeming prodigy.

Thelismar passed some days at Laguna, a large and beautiful town, the houses of which are most of them embellished by parterres and terraces, intersected by immense walks of the orange and lemon trees; its fountains, gardens, and groves, its lake and aqueduct, together with the cool winds by which it is refreshed, render it a delicious habitation.

Thelismar passed through several other towns, till he came at last to one called Guimar, where are still found many families, the descendants of the Guanches, the ancient inhabitants of these i [...]es. These people, though they have renounced the idolatry of their sa­vage ancestors, have yet preserved much of their wild superstition, and many of their old customs.

One day, as Alphonso was walking alone by the environs of Guimar, he strayed thoughtlessly into an unfrequented wood, in which he was soon lost. In [Page 67] searching his way out, he got entangled in a thicket, which he could scarcely make his way through, and which led to a kind of desart, without trees, shrubs, or verdure, a dry plain covered with shells, and bound­ed by a mountain. As he beheld this dismal place, he recollected that Thelismar had more than once ad­vised him never to walk in strange places without a guide, but this recollection came too late.

Night drew on, and Alphonso walked a little far­ther; at last, overcome with fatigue, he stopt near a hill, surrounded with briars, underwood, and huge stones, heaped confusedly on each other. In sitting down on one of these stones he destroyed the equili­brium of others, which began to roll with considera­ble noise. Alphonso sprang from his seat to avoid be­ing hurt, and turning round, he observed that the stones, by being removed, had discovered a cavity large enough for a man to enter.

He again drew near, and looking down the cavity, saw, with surprize, steps like a stair-case: incited by unconquerable curiosity he entered the subterranean grotto, and descended by steps exceedingly steep: when at the bottom he looked upwards, but could no longer see the light of day. He was inclined to re­ascend, had he not perceived a light very distinctly at a considerable distance. The sight of this determin­ed him to accomplish an enterprize which promised something extraordinary, and he pursued his road. He proceeded to a kind of obscure alley, at the end of which he found a spacious cavern, lighted by lamps suspended from the roof. Alphonso looked round, and saw himself in the midst of two hundred dead [Page 68] bodies, arranged, standing against the walls of this dreary vault.

Into what place of death has my temerity brought me? cried Alphonso; it seems to be the cave of Po­lyphemus, or perhaps a robber, still more inhumane, and the dead here, have no doubt been the victims of his monstrous cruelty. Well, if I have not the pru­dence of Ulysses, at least I have his valour.

Alphonso drew his sword, and determined to sell his life dearly; he would not attempt to fly, lest he should be assaulted in the obscure narrow passage; he thought he might more easily defend himself in the cavern: besides, he supposed it certain the assassins had already closed the mouth of the cave. A pro­found silence, however, reigned in the dreary vault, and Alphonso had time to consider the dismal and surprising objects by which he was environed.

He remarked, that none of the bodies seemed to suffer putrefaction, or sent forth the least smell, but that they had all preserved their features. Alphon­so was lost in these reflections, when he thought he heard the trampling of feet; he listened attentively, and soon distinguished the voices of people speaking in an unknown tongue,

Alphonso would not begin the combat, on a sup­position that it might not be their intention to attack him, but placed his back against the wall, hid his sword, and was silent; he soon saw twelve men ap­pear, walking slowly two and two, and cloathed af­ter a strange fashion. Their peaceable and grave countenances did not announce any thing inimical; but no sooner did they see Alphonso, than uttering [Page 69] shrieks of horror, rage, and indignation blazed in their countenances. They drew the long daggers which they carried at their girdles, and fell instantly altogether, on Alphonso, who, brandishing his sword, received them with intrepidity,

The combat was obstinate and bloody; the address and valour of Alphonso triumphed over numbers, and though alone against twelve enraged foes, he was the conqueror. He received two slight wounds, but his sword was mortal to some of his adversaries, and the rest fled, terrified and howling.

Once more alone in the cavern, Alphonso tore his handkerchief, applied it to, and bound it on his wounds with his garter: then cutting with his sword the thong by which one of the lamps was suspended, he took that lamp, and returned without delay; he again followed the dark alley, arrived at the stair­case, hastily asceneded, found the cavity, and leapt from this frightful gulph with transport.

He imagined himself leaving the gates of hell, and returning again to life, when he breathed the pure air, and once more beheld the starry heavens. Oh! my father! exclaimed he; Oh! Dalinda! and you dear Thelismar, shall I enjoy the happiness of seeing you once again: you alone make life dear to me, and should I not preserve it, since with life I may perhaps attain what most I love?

It was the decline of day when Alphonso enter­ed the cavern, and near midnight when he left it; guided by the brightness of the moon and stars, Al­phonso fled this fatal cave, and after wandering full three hours, stopped, as day began to break, near [Page 70] a lake, adorned by the lemon-tree, and poplar: tormented by excess [...]e thirst, the sight of limpid wa­ter rekindled his power and courage; he drank hear­tily, and eat of the wild fruits; yet found himself afterwards so feeble and exhausted, he could no long­er continue his route, but laid down upon the grass, opposite to a mountain covered with verdure, and here and there a tree. He reposed about three quar­ters of an hour in this wild and solitary place, when the heavens became cloudy, the wind began to rise, and some drops of rain to fall; the rain soon ceased, but the wind continued with redoubled fury. Alphon­so rose, looked towards the mountain, and saw a sight that [...]illed him with astonishment.

On the summit of the mountain he beheld an e­normous pillar rise, the colour of which seemed gold towards the base, and at the top a beautifully deep violet. This pillar descended with impetuosity, from the mountain, breaking and overturning the trees that stood in its way, attracting and engulphing leaves and branches, and tearing up some by the roots; at the bottom of the mountain it passed over a ditch, which it filled with stones and earth; its passage was marked by deep furrows, and during its dreadful and rapid course, it made a noise like to the bellowing of a bull.

The formidable column directed its way towards the Lake, pumping up the water, and leaving the vast bason dry; then turning towards the north, it was lost in a neighbouring forest (22).

To this phaenomenon succeded a destructive hail, the stones of which were enormously large; they [Page 71] seemed cut in the form of a star, and were accompa­nied with long splinters of ice, like the sharp blades of poinards (23). Alphonso took refuge under a tree, and preserved himself as well as possible with his [...]t, which he h [...]ld at some distance from his head, though he received several wounds on his hands.

The tempest at length ceased, the sky became calm, and Alphonso, full of amazement, wounded, bruised, famished, and fatigued, once more pursued his sorrowful way. In about a quarter of an hour, he perceived, with excessive joy, a human habita­tion; it belonged to a Spaniard, who received him with humanity. Alphonso informed him he had been attacked by assassins, and learnt in return, he was not more than two leagues and a half from Guimar.

Not in a condition to continue his route on foot, he determined to repose for a few days, and wrote a letter to Thelismar, which the Spaniard kindly un­dertook to send: After which Alphonso, profiting by the humane offers of his compassionate host, ac­cepted food, suffered him to dress his wounds, and was put into an excellent bed made up for his re­ception.

After sleeping three or four hours, he awoke, rose, and dressed himself; the first person he met, at leaving the chamber, was Thelismar; he ran to his arms, Thelismar received him with a tenderness as sincere as his heart could wish. He was going to begin the recital of his adventures, when Thelismar interrupted him, by telling him he would hear no­thing [Page 72] thing then, but must think only of his cure. A carriage waits for us, said he; come, let us take leave of the generous and hospitable Spaniard, and return to Guimar.

As he said this the Spaniard returned, followed by the messenger, who had brought back Alphonso's letter to Thelismar; he gave it to Alphonso, tel­ling him that Thelismar had just left Guimar as he got there. How then, said Alphonso to Thelismar, did you know I was here, if you have not received my letter? Of that I will inform you another time, answered Thelismar, smiling; at present it is time we should depart.

Alphonso turning now towards his host, testified the warmest gratitude; then mounted the carriage with Thelismar, and took the road to Guimar. The­lismar would not allow him to exhaust himself with speaking, but as soon as they got home, put him to bed, where he slept twelve hours, and awoke in perfect health. Thelismar then desired an account of what had happened to him. Alphonso began his recital, with informing Thelismar the things he had to relate were so extraordinary and [...], he was afraid they might be thought fabulous; and yet Thelismar heard the whole history of the cavern, without seeming to shew the least surprise; which did not fail, however, greatly to excite the admira­tion of Alphonso, and which he could not re [...]rain from testifying.

Dear Alphonso, said Thelismar, had you a little more thought, and a little less vanity, you had not, [Page 73] in the first place, ran the terrible risk you speak of, and in the next, it would cease to surprize you.

I can easily imagine, answered Alphonso, had I been more prudent I had followed your advice, and not have wandered in a strange country without a guide; but which way has my vanity contributed to my astonishment?

Were it not for that, I repeat, you would not have been in any danger. In every place you have come to yet, I have seen you occupied by one sole idea, that of being very desirous to inform and astonish all the world by the recital of the wonderful things you have seen. We have met with many men of merit, Bo­tanists, Astronomers, Mathematicians, and Mecha­nics, to whom you have spoken a great deal, and listened very little. When you come to a strange country, if you find any person to whom you can make yourself understood, you are careful not to ask them a single question, but very anxious they should learn all, you can teach them. This kind of folly gives no one an opinion of your great capacity, but deprives you of the fruits of all your travels. If, for example, since you have been here, instead of a­musing yourself so repeatedly by telling what happen­ed to you at the Azores, you had asked the people concerning the curious things in their own country, and its ancient inhabitants, you would have known your cavern had nothing miraculous about it, and that to enter it must be at the hazard of your life.

Which way, sir?

By being told the cavern is one of the sepulchral deposits of the Guanches. These ancient caves are [Page 74] dispersed in the desarts, and are only known to the Guanches, who carefully conceal the entrance to them. They visit them only in secret; and if they find a stranger there, they hold him sacrilegious, a victim devoted to death; and from motives of barbarous superstition, think it their duty to kill him (24).

Well, sir▪ said Alphonso, a little piqued, I owe, at least, to my ignorance and want of thought, the advantage of having seen one of these curious ca­verns.

I have killed no man in my own defence, answer­ed Thelismar; I have suffered neither hunger nor thirst; I have not lain in the inclement air, nor have I afflicted my friend by the most cruel anxiety; and yet I have, as well as you, been in a sepulchral cave of the Gaunches.

Have you! How did you get admittance?

I knew these caverns existed, had a strong desire to see them, found an opportunity of effectually serving a Guanch, and prevailed on him to secretly conduct and shew me one of them.

Alphonso had nothing to answer, but held down his head, and was silent; recollecting himself a lit­tle after, he continued thus: I flatter myself that what I shall farther relate may yet incite your won­der. After quitting the cavern, I ran, at first, where chance directed me; coming to the banks of a Lake—

You need say no more, interrupted Thelismar, I [...]n [...]w the rest.

[Page 75] Know the rest! how can that be? I was alone, and I have told nobody!

After drinking the water of the Lake, you ga­thered some wild fruits, laid down on the grass, and a dreadful tempest arose.—

Good heavens! by what magic, what enchant­ment, can you tell all this?

The column descended from the mountain, the Lake was dried up, and—

What do I hear! exclaimed Alphonso; conde­scend, sir, to explain this new miracle; who can have told you these things?

No one; I beheld them all.

Beheld them! where were you?

Here at Guimar, upon my terrace.

That was three leagues distant from me!

Very true; and yet I repeat it, I saw you all the while.

I can no longer doubt! O Thelismar! you are some supernatural being!

A man, my dear Alphonso; and by no means one of the wisest.

Explain then this strange enigma!

A day would not be sufficient; I might easily teach you terms and names, and shew you certain effects, but this would be treating you like a child. If you wish to know causes, you must gain more solid in­struction.

It is what I wish; instruction, such as your's, which can make me comprehend your actions.

Well, I will lend you books: and when you have read them with attention, we will converse together. [Page 76] I will then begin to unveil some of those mysteries at which you are so much surprised.

Oh give me those precious books; see with what ardour I will study them; how utterly I will reject all other books.

I do not wish you so to do; but the contrary. You love poetry; cherish that predilection; but read none but good poetry; leave novels, and read books that shall teach you to know yourself; dedicate two hours a day to the books I shall give you; think much, speak little, and be attentive to others; this is all I ask.

Thelismar then took Alphonso to his closet, and gave him a few books; when you have read those, said he, I will communicate a treasure to you, which will finish the work of instruction. Look at that chest; it contains the treasure I talk of.

Ah! said Alphonso, sighing, must I never hope for other reward!—He stopt, and blushed, and the tears gushed in his eyes.

Alphonso, replied Thelismar, I do not pretend to deny that I love you; but to obtain the reward [...]o which you aspire, you must become worthy of my esteem.

Oh my father! cried Alphonso, falling at the knees of Thelismar; yes! my father! permit me the use of a word so dear, and expect every thing from me; I will obtain that precious esteem, that esteem, with­out which I could not live: what must I perform? Speak.

Correct yourself of a thousand defects, and espe­cially [Page 77] of your ridiculous vanity; rid yourself of igno­rance, and acquire useful knowledge.

Every thing will be easy to me.

Know then, I have read your heart. I authorize your hopes; but I require you should never converse with me on that subject.

Never! Oh heaven!—Nor of the object of—

Never pronounce her name.

Dreadful sentence!

To which you must submit: and remember if you would gain my esteem, you must begin by proving the empire you have over yourself.

Well; I submit with joy—but suppose you mention her name?

You then may answer; otherwise never utter a word, which can be construed into the least reference.

I obey; happily you have not forbade me to think.

No; I permit you sometimes to think of her.

Sometimes! Ever; not a moment of my life, but—

What, retracting already?

Which way?

Have not you promised me seriously to follow your studies?

Most certainly.

And how may that be, if you always think of Dalinda.

Dalinda! heaven be praised! I did not first pro­nounce her dear name.

Is it thus, Alphonso, you keep your engagement? Is it thus you will drive Dalinda from your imagina­tion, every time we read or speak together?

[Page 78] Not mention her! nor think of her! how is it possible?

Every thing is possible to reason▪

But the effort will be so painful, so cruel: howe­ver, I will endeavour; my submission to you is un­bounded, for there is nothing you have not the right to exact, and the power to obtain.

Here Madame de Clémire broke off for the even­ing, and sent her children to rest, who dreamt all night of nothing but walking pillars and enchanted caverns; they supposed that Madame de Clémire had told, by this time, every thing she could collect that was marvellous and extraordinary; but she assured them, what they had heard was little in comparison to what she should relate, for she had reserved for the denoument incidents still more surprising. This as­surance redoubled the extreme curiosity of her little family, which Madame de Clémire satisfied in the evening by thus continuing her tale:

Alphonso, notwithstanding the laws prescribed by Thelismar, thought himself the happiest of mortals; his passion was authorized by the father of Dalinda, he might reasonably entertain the fondest hopes. No­thing▪ was wan [...]g to his felicity, but a letter from Don Ramirez, containing a grant of the pardon he had implored.

Thelismar did not leave the Canary Islands, with­out first visiting the famous Peak of Teneriff^*; [Page 79] after which he embarked for the Cape d [...] Verd Islands. During the voyage, Alphonso followed with ardour the plan Thelismar had prescribed for his studies; but he had great difficulty to suppress his continual inclination to speak of his passion, he was prevented only by the fear of offending Thelismar; and still he would occasionally hazard some indirect allusions, the true sense of which Thelismar would not understand.

At last Alphonso, unable longer to endure this constraint, imagined a means to break silence, which appeared to him sublime. He preserved the sash of Dalinda, as a thing the most precious in his posses­sion; this, notwithstanding the greatness of the sa­crifice, he determined to give back to Thelismar; the supposition that he should thus enjoy the pleasure of speaking of his passion, and of Dalinda, the hope that Thelismar would consider this act as proceeding from an estimable delicacy, and the possibility that he might therefore refuse the sash, were his induce­ments. Full of these ideas, Alphonso entered one morning, with a triumphant air, the apartment of Thelismar. I come, said he, to make a confession, which must be followed by a painful sacrifice.

Of what nature?

You must first give me your permission—to speak of her—I only ask to accuse myself, to repair my fault,

[Page 80] Well, well, let us hear; explain, explain; though I dare engage the fault is not very important.

In my eyes it is; feelings the most forcible, the most affectionate, on which the destiny of my life depend.

Come to the point, what have you to tell me?

You know to what excess I love Dalinda.

Your preface displeases me, Alphonso.

But it is necessary; it leads to the confession of my fault. The day on which I first faw Dalinda, on which I received a new existence, after your cru­el departure, overcome and lost in grief, I wan­dered like one distracted, seeking in vain some tra­ces of the celestial Being I had beheld: conducted at last by some secret charm, I returned, approach­ed the Fountain of Love, where chance, or rather the God of the Fountain, moved by my despair, gave into my hands a pledge the dearest, the most precious.

Dalinda's sash, you mean, interrupted Thelismar, I recollect she lost it.

Behold it here, cried Alphonso, with emphasis, drawing it from his pocket; behold that sash, the [...]ole consolation of an unfortunate lover; I possessed it without your knowledge; it was wrong; I have not the happy right to keep it; a well founded de­licacy obliges me thus to surrender it.

Your scruples are very just, replied Thelismar; give it me, give it me, added he, taking the sash; and I promise to return it, Alphonso, the very first proof I shall receive from you of real sincerity and confidence.

[Page 81] How! cried Alphonso, thunderstruck, do you doubt my sincerity?

I have great right so to do, at the very moment you employ artifice.

Artifice!

You blush, Alphonso, and well you may; but I dare hope, had you succeeded in deceiving me, your confusion would have been still greater; had you seen me delighted with your candour, your de­licacy, your generosity, tell me how you would have looked, how you would have behaved, while hear­ing your own false prai [...]es?

Alas! said Alphonso, and shed the tear of re­pentance, you know my heart better than I do my­self: I own, I only sought a pretext to speak of Dalinda.

And you hoped I should be your dupe; hoped I should return the sash.

I was deceived; convinced by false reasoning.

No; 'tis now you are deceived; you never were convinced; we cannot hide from ourselves, what is in its own nature blameable: in vain would specious reasons gloze over actions, and call them noble, de­licate, refined; the heart and the conscience give such reasonings the lie!

What have I done! Oh Thelismar! has this fault, the whole extent of which I now perceive, has it deprived me of your esteem without return?

No; your ingenious manner of acknowledging it; the sincerity of your repentance, the neglected education you have received, and your consequent want of reflection, all plead in your excuse. Did I [Page 82] think cunning a part of your character, I should then hold you past hope; but, notwithstanding the unworthy subterfuge you have just been guilty of, I read frankness and candour in your bosom; and I am certain, Alphonso, you will yet vanquish your defects.

The concluding sentence gave a little satisfaction to Alphonso, who promised within himself to let no occasion slip of demonstrating his reformation to Thelismar.

Our travellers landed first at the island of Goree; from thence they went to Ru [...]sco, and afterwards by land to Fort St. Louis, on the Senegal. They saw the Sereres, a Negroe nation, whose hospitality, sim­plicity, and gentleness, they admired; these virtues are undoubtedly the effect of their love of labour and agriculture, which particularly distinguishes them from most other savages, who are generally indolent, and disdain to cultivate the earth.

One night as Thelismar and Alphonso, with their guides and companions, were rambling in a sandy and desart place, they saw a miraculous tree, the height of which did not exceed sixty or seventy feet, while its monstrous trunk was above ninety in circum­ference; its lower branches projected almost horizon­tally, and as they were prodigiously large and long, their own weight bent them almost to the ground; insomuch that they found beneath this single tree, a vast and extensive kind of grove, which might ea­sily give shelter to three or four hundred men (25).

After having admired this astonishing production of nature, o [...]r travellers continued their route. A [Page 83] few paces from the tree they beheld a lion, extended on the ground, and seemingly dead. Alphonso was determined to examine the animal nearer, and The­lismar followed. When they came up to him, they found he still breathed, but was without power and motion, and apparently expiring; his jaws were▪ open, full of pismires, and bloody.

Alphonso pitied the creature, wiped away the in­sects that tormented him with his handkerchief, then taking a bottle of water from his pocket, poured it all down his throat, while Thelismar held the end of a pistol to the entrance of that terrible jaw, in case of a too sudden recovery. The lion was greatly re­lieved by the water, and seemed with his languishing eyes to thank, with great expression and gratitude, the compassionate Alphonso, who did not leave him till he had administered every succour in his power.

Alphonso and Thelismar rejoined their small com­pany, and followed a path that led through some ex­cessively high grass. As Thelismar was walking on before, at the end of the meadow he fell into a kind of pit, and suddenly disappeared. Alphonso ran and saw him sitting in the pit. Thelismar said he had got a sprain, and that it was impossible he should rise and walk without his assistance. As Alphonso was going to descend and take him in his arms, he suddenly heard a dreadful hissing, and saw a monstrous serpent, at least twenty feet long, in the pit, with head erect, making towards Thelismar, who, after an effort to rise, fell helpless again among the grass (26).

Alphonso instantly leaped into the pit, placed him­self between Thelismar and the serpent, drew his [Page 84] sword, attacked the horrid reptile, and with a vigo­rous and firm stroke, severed his head from his body; then turning to Thelismar, he helped him up, and lifted him out of the pit.

Thelismar embraced Alphonso; you [...]ave saved my life, said he, I could neither defend myself nor fly; the serpent was coming to attack me, and his bite is mortal. I promise you, Dalinda shall be informed of this. Alphonso was too much agitated to answer, but pressed Thelismar with transport to his bosom. Gently, said Thelismar, smiling, take care of my right arm, it is broken.

Broken! cried Alphonso; good God!

Had it not, do you think I would not have defend­ed myself?

And you have not uttered the least symptom of complaint or pain!

You, dear Alphonso, have no right, at least, to be surprized at the fortitude of others.

Oh my father! replied Alphonso, I want the for­titude to see you suffer; come, let us join our com­pany. He then raised Thelismar gently on his shoulders, and, in spite of all he could say, carried him, without stopping, to where their companions were waiting.

Thelismar was obliged to remain in one of the Negro buts, where he was humanely received. He had a surgeon with him, who [...]et his arm, and in a­bout eight or ten days he continued his route.

They came to the country of Foulis. The king of these savages calls himself Siratick, and some tra­vellers give this name to his kingdom. He entertain­ed [Page 85] Thelismar and his companions with great hospita­lity, and proposed they should accompany him to the chace of a lion, which, within a few days, had com­mitted great ravages in his states.

The king, young, courageous, and desirous to shew the company his valour and address, ordered his followers and the strangers to stop; and, mount­ed on an excellent horse, galloped to attack the fu­rious animal, which, perceiving him, leaped to the combat. The Siratick let fly an arrow, and the li­on, wounded, advanced with a dreadful bellow.

Alphonso now forgot the orders of the king; he darted like lightning, thinking him in danger, and flew to his succour: he had drawn his sword, and galloping with incredible swiftness, passed near a tree, against which, by accident, his sword struck, and snapped short in two. Alphonso himself, sha­ken by the violence of the shock, could hardly keep his seat: his horse fell, and the same instant, the lion seeing a new enemy coming armed, had aban­doned the Siratick, and rushed towards him; his dreadful claws were instantly buried in the sides of the horse, and Alphonso, disarmed, and without de­fence, thought his death inevitable. The Negroes, fearing to kill him, durst not shoot at the animal.

Thelismar, the same moment that Alphonso had galloped to the combat, wo [...]ld fain have followed; but the Negroes, already irritated at the young man's disobedience to the orders of their king, an­grily and violently held him, notwithstanding his cries, his fury, and despair. What were his feel­ings, when he saw the lion bounding to devour the [Page 86] overthrown Alphonso? Oh! unhappy young man! cried he.

But, oh! what surprize! Oh! joy unhoped!

No sooner had the lion beheld the face of Al­phonso, than all his rage was lost; he crouched to him, and lifting up one of his bloody paws, wound­ed by an arrow, laid it gently on the hand of Al­phonso, and seemed to shew him his hurt, and ask his assistance.

Alphonso shuddered, and remembering the adven­ture of the dying lion, cried, Oh noble animal! I recollect thee: may thy example ever confound in­gratitude, and bring to shame those who would e­rase from their memory the good which others have done them!—Yes, since thou hast so nobly granted me my life, I will save thine in my turn, and defend thee, be the consequence what it will.

Alphonso then staunched the blood of the wound, and tearing his handkerchief, made a bandage which he fastened round the paw.

Thelismar and the savages beheld this spectacle with astonishment. His chirurgical operations ended, Alphonso rose; his horse lay wounded and dying. The lion once more approached him, licked his feet, and caressed him a thousand times. Alphonso re­treated gently: the lion stopped, looked after him, then suddenly turned about, directed his course to­ward a neighbouring forest, and disappeared, leaving the spectators of this strange adventure motionless with amazement (27).

Thelismar, after having pressed Alphonso to his bosom, after having embraced him with the dear af­fection [Page 87] of a father, reproached him for his temerity, and imprudence. Had you, said he, asked the na­ture of this chace, or rather, had you listened to the account which others gave of it, you would have known the Siratick was in no danger; but that, used to these kind of combats, he waited for the li­on to bury his javelin in his throat; that he would have afterwards leaped off his horse, and ended him with his sabre.

I promise, my father, said Alphonso, I will be more attentive another time, and more prudent; at present I have saved the life of my lion, of my gene­rous and noble animal, and I am happy.

Yes, replied Thelismar, but the Siratick is little pleased with your disregard of his orders; and though your motive was his preservation, he will not pardon you, for having robbed him of the honour of the victory; it will be therefore prudent not to stay long in his territories ^*.

Accordingly the next morning, Thelismar, Al­phonso, and their followers, quitted Gihorel, and continued their passage up the Senegal, as far as the village of Embakana, near the frontiers of the king­dom of Galam; they afterwards crossed the Gambia, traversed the States of Farim^†, and, after having travelled a great extent of country, arrived at Gui­nea.

Here it was, that Alphonso met with a thing which surprized him exceedingly. As he was walking thro' [Page 88] a wood with Thelismar, their conversation turned on the immortality of the soul. Would you believe, said Thelismar, that there are men so deprived of sense, as to maintain we have no other advantage over infe­rior animals, than that of a more perfect conforma­tion; and who have said in express terms, that if the horse (that intelligent animal) had, instead of a hoof, a hand like [...]s, he would perform whatever we do^‡.

What! would he draw? would he design?

What think you?

I do not think he could; he might, perhaps, trace some unmeaning imitations.

The parrot, the pye, the jay, and various other birds, have the faculty of speech; that is, can learn a few words, but can neither comprehend their mean­ing, nor, consequently, apply them justly: besides, there are many existing animals, the conformation of which, both interior and exterior, is perfectly similar to that of man; they walk like him, and have hands like his, and yet they neither build palaces nor huts; nay, they are even less industrious than many other animals.

Monkies, you mean; in fact, they are very adroit. And pray what say those authors to this, who desire the horse to have hands?

[Page 89] They acknowledge that the monkey might, from his conformation, be capable of doing the same things as man, and that his natural petulance is an impedi­ment; that he is always in motion; and could you deprive him of that restlessness, that vivacity, he would be man's equal ^*.

And yet he does not speak.

No; though in certain species the tongue and the organs of voice are the same as in man; and the brain is absolutely of the same form, and in the same proportion^†.

The brain in the same proportion! how can that be? The monkey is so small!

Do you think yourself acquainted with all the species?

Why—Yes.

Those you have seen were restless and turbulent.

Certainly; for which reason, the objection of the authors you mention seems just; in my opinion, be­ings which are perpetually in motion, however excel­lent their conformation, cannot learn, cannot be­come perfect.

But suppose the objection you think so striking, should originate only in a profound ignorance of things which are known to the whole world.

How▪ People who write books ignorant of things known to all the world▪—

[Page 90] Your doubt, dear Alphonso, proves how little you have read.

Just as Thelismar said this, Alphonso gave a start of surprize, and jogging Thelismar, cried softly, Look, look—there—right before you; what strange creature is that sitting under the tree?

Here let us break off, said Madame de Clémire, interrupting her narrative, I feel myself a little hoarse this evening.

This was sufficient to stop every entreaty to con­tinue, though her young auditors were very desirous to hear an explanation of what this strange creature might be.

The next day, a quarter before nine, Madame de Clémire indulged the ardent curiosity of her chil­dren, by taking up her manuscript and reading as follows:

Thelismar looked first at the animal, and after­wards at Alphonso. What do you think of that figure, said he?

It is a savage, replied Alphonso, but exceedingly ugly. He rises! holds a staff in his hand! he a­voids us!

And you take it for a man?

Certain [...] I do.

It is a monkey.

A monkey! what, of that size! he is higher than I am; he walks upright like us, and his legs have the form of ours.

Notwithstanding all which, it is a beast^*; ‘but [Page 91] an exceedingly singular one, and which man can­not see without looking at, without knowing him­self, without being convinced, his body is the least essential part of himself^†.’

How you astonish me! but is this monkey, who was sitting with so much tranquillity at the foot of a tree, as restless and precipitate in his motions as the small monkies?

No; ‘his walk is grave, his actions circumspect, his temper gentle, and very different from that of other monkies^‡;’—he has not the hoof of a horse, he is higher than we are, formed as we are.—‘The Creator would not form the body of a man absolutely different from all other animals; but at the same time that he has given him a material body, a form similar to that of the monkey, he has breathed his divine spirit into this body; had he done the same favour, I do not say to the mon­key, but to that species of beast which seems to us the most ill organized, such species would soon have become the rival of man; quickened by his spirit it had excelled others, had thought, had spoken. Whatever resemblance there may be then between the Hottentot and the monkey, the interval which divides them is immense; since the Hottentot with­in is filled with thought, and without by speech^§.’

[Page 92] Alphonso listened to this discourse with admiration. At present, said he, I am desirous to learn how those authors, who pretend that it is our form only which makes us superior to other animals, will answer these arguments.

They do not know the animal that we have just seen, nor many other species nearly like him, de­scribed by all travellers; yet their works are modern, and, as I have said, these are facts known to all the world.

Thelismar here fat down near a lake surrounded by rocks; their guide proposed they should wait for the rest of the company, whom they had left at a con­siderable distance. He had seated himself under the shade of some trees, and taking two books from his pocket, gave one of them to Alphonso, pointing out a chapter, which he de [...]ired him to read with great attention.

Alphonso promised he would; adding, that he would go farther off and sit down, to be free from all disturbance. This he accordingly did, and sat down at about two hundred yards distance, on the banks of the lake.

Instead of reading, he fell into a profound reverie: the murmurs of the water, the fresh verdure, the rocks, all retraced a scene which he had not the power to ba­nish from his mind: it recalled to memory the Fountain of Love; the form of Dalinda was present, he could think of nothing but her, and at last could not refrain from repeating a name so dear.

Certain that Thelismar could not hear him, he sang in an under voice a song he had made to her memory. [Page 93] As he finished the last line of his song, he heard foot­steps, and turning his head, saw Thelismar coming; he took up his book and was silent, but the instant he had done, a soft, though sonorous, voice seemed to issue from the rocks, and again repeated the cou­plet he had sung.

Thelismar heard the name of Dalinda as he aproach­ed, and his astonishment was excessive, when he found it was not Alphonso who was singing. As soon as the air was ended, he was going to question Thelis­mar concerning this prodigy, when another voice began the same couplet; scarce had this second voice ceased singing, but a third, from the opposite side, again repeated the same words, and the same sounds: silence then succeeded, and the concert ended (28).

What enchantment is this? cried Alphonso.

We must confess, said Thelismar, smiling, the fawns and sy [...]ans of these rocks are dangerous con­fidents; the nymphs of the Fountain of Love were more discreet; but come, give me my book, and tell me if you are satisfied with the chapter I desired you to read. Alphonso blushed, and answered on­ly with a sigh; and Thelismar changing the conver­sation, rejoined the rest of the company.

Thelismar continued his route by the Gold Coast, the kingdom of Ju [...]da, and the kingdom of Bennin: in this latter co [...]ntry he found the natives less sa­vage, and more civilized than their neighbours. He next traversed Congo, and here it was that Alphon­so had nearly lost his life, in consequence of his na­tural imprudence and impetuosity.

[Page 94] The small caravan of travellers being on their march, Alphonso was walking about two or three hundred yards before the rest. They approached a large pond surrounded by the huts of savages; and Alphonso looking forward thought he saw on the other side of the pond, a long brick wall built upon the border: not conceiving what could be the use of this wall, he hastened forward to examine it; but as he drew near, perceived this imaginary wall had motion.

He then thought, that instead of a wall, he di­stinguished warriors clothed in red, and ranged in order of battle; he presently after observed senti­nels stationed in advance, and soon saw he was discovered; for the moment the sentinels perceived him, the alarm was given, and the air resounded with a noise much like the sound of a trumpet.

Alphonso stopped, and while he was deliberating whether he should proceed or go back, he saw the army begin to move, rise from the earth, and at last to fly away. Alphonso then learned with extreme surprize, that this formidable squadron was nothing but enormous red birds, of so bright a colour, that when they took flight, their wings absolutely seem­ed inflamed.

Alphonso had a gun, and being desirous of taking one of these extraordinary birds to Thelismar, he fired at the flock and killed one. Several Negroes, on hearing the firing, immediately came out of their huts, which stood by the pond, hastily running. As soon as they saw Alphonso dragging away the bird he had killed, they sent forth the most horri­ble [Page 95] cries, when instantly all the other Negroes left their habitations, and came in crowds to attack Al­phonso, who saw himself assaulted on all sides by a shower of stones and darts.

Had it not been for the arrival of Thelismar and the other travellers, Alphonso could not have escaped with life; but at sight of them the savages fled, and he came off with a few slight wounds, and a severe reprimand from Thelismar, who informed him, that the Negroes held the bird he had killed in such ve­neration, they would not suffer any one to do it the least injury, but thought themselves obliged in con­science to revenge the death of a creature which they held sacred.

Alphonso learnt also from Thelismar, that the noise which he had compared to the sound of trump­ets, was nothing but the cry of the birds, which is so loud and shrill, that it is heard at more than a quarter of a league distance (29).

Thelismar continued his journey, only stopping occasionally among various hordes of savages, whose manners he wished to know. Of all the barbarous people of Africa, the nation which he thought most interesting was that of the Hottentots: their virtues surpassed their vices: they fulfilled, in their whole extent, the duties of friendship and hospitality; and their love of justice, their courage, benevolence, and chastity, rendered them far superior to other sa­vages^*.

[Page 96] It is remarkable, that among the Hottentots, the education of youth is committed to the mothers, till the age of eighteen, after which the males are re­ceived to the rank of manhood; but before that pe­riod, they have no communication with the men, not even with their own father^†.

During their sojourn among the Hottentots, The­lismar was walking one day with Alphonso: their guide carried a wallet with provisions, it being their intention to dine during their walk. As they were crossing the rustic bridge of a small river, the guide let the wallet fall, and fearing probably the anger of of the travellers, took to his heels and disappeared. This event was very disagreeable to Alphonso, he be­ing exceedingly hungry.

I am certain, said Thelismar, I can find my way; but before we walk any farther, let us rest a little under the shade of these trees. They sat down on the grass, and Alphonso continued to complain of having a great way to go, and nothing to eat, when Thelismar cried silence, let us listen. Alphonso pre­sently heard a very shrill cry, which, to his great a­stonishment, Thelismar answered in a graver tone: then rising, said, Since you are so very hungry, Al­phonso, come with me, and I'll give you a dinner.

Thelismar then uttered several successive cries; and Alphonso perceived a green and white bird, which hovered round them. Let us follow this new guide, said Thelismar, he will recompense us for the careless­ness of the other who has run away.

[Page 97] Alphonso knew not what to think, but walked silently, and looked attentively at the bird, which, in a few minutes went and rested itself upon a large hollow tree: Stop, said Thelismar, the bird will come and seek us, if he has any thing good to dis­cover. As he said, so it happened, the bird seeing they did not approach redoubled his cries, came back to them, then returned to his tree, where he fluttered and perched.

Come, said Thelismar, he invites us to dinner with so good a grace we cannot refuse him. So saying, he went to the tree, and, to the extreme a­stonishment of Alphonso, found a bee-hive in it full of honey.

While our travellers were eating the honey, the bird, having fled to a neighbouring bush, appeared greatly interested at all that had passed; it is but just, said Thelismar, to give him his share of the booty: Alphonso, therefore, left a spoonful of honey upon a leaf, which as soon as they were gone from the tree, the bird came and eat. In the course of half an hour, the bird shewed them two other hives; and Alphonso, satiated with honey, merrily conti­nued his route (30).

Thelismar quitted the country of the Hottentots, and embarked for the island of Madagascar; after wards he journied through all the eastern coast of Africa; then quitted that part of the world, and after a short stay in the island of Socotora, landed in Arabia Felix. He visited Mecca (31), and Medi­na (32), traversed a part of the Desart, entered Africa again by the Isthmus of Suez, and came to [Page 98] Cairo (33); here he admired the famous Pyramids of Egypt (34), from thence he went to Alexandria, where he found a vessel ready to set sail for the island of Thera^*.

Thelismar, within the last two months, had seve­ral times read over with Alphonso translations of the Iliad and Odyssey. Alphonso, joyfully leaving the burning and barbarous climates of Africa, was delighted to find himself once more in Europe, be­neath the azure skies of Greece, in places where all the pleasant fictions of fable may be traced▪ and a­mong people whose manners Homer had described.

Before they left Thera, Thelismar and Alphonso learnt that the Volcano, which is situated in that island, began to give great uneasiness to the inhabi­tants, by appearing to re-kindle, smoke, and cast forth stones.

The next morning our travellers rose with Auro­ra, and were conducted towards the Volcano; when they were at a league's distance their guide stopt, telling them he thought he heard a very uncommon noise; our travellers listened, and heard a kind of bellowing, which seemed to arise out of the earth▪ They proceeded, however, about a quarter of a league farther; in proportion as they approached the bellowing increased, and was soon accompanied with frightful hissings; at the same time they ob­served, [Page 99] that the smoke of the Volcano grew thicker, and became of a deeper red.

Let us return, said Teelismar.

Scarcely had he spoken, before a horrible noise was heard; and as they turned their heads to look, while flying towards the sea-coast, they saw the mountain all on fire, covered with flames, which rose to the clouds, and casting forth on all sides vo­lumes of red hot stones, and blazing matter. The terrified guide, losing all recollection, led them a­stray, and took them a road which brought them back towards the Volcano.

As they now stood fronting this fearful mountain, they saw, with horror, torrents of fire running im­petuously down its sides, and spreading over the plain: these destructive rivers burnt, and overthrew every thing that opposed their passage: at their ap­proach the herbs and flowers withered, the leaves grew instantly yellow, and dropt from the trees; the brooks disappeared, the fountains were dried up, and the birds dropt breathless from the scorched branches.

At the same time vast clouds of hot ashes and cin­ders, burnt white, obscured the air, and fell like rain upon the earth, breaking the branches, rooting up trees, and rolling, with horrid din, from the moun­tain to the plains, echoing far and near among the resounding rocks.

Thelismar and Alphonso fled from these desolate places, and after long wandering in unknown paths, came at length to the sea side; they judged, when at a distance, by the roaring of the waves, that the sea [Page 100] was violently agitated. They judged rightly; it was dreadfully tempestuous, though the air was entirely calm.

They were considering this phaenomenon with an astonishment, which was soon redoubled. Suddenly there appeared in the middle of the waves incredible volumes of flames, which, instantly spreading and dissipating in the air, were succeded by an innumera­ble quantity of burning rocks, that were projected from the deep abyss of the ocean, and raised above the waters (35).

The tempest after this decreased, the sea was ap­peased, and some of the Islanders who passed that way, informed Thelismar that the Volcano no longer vomited flames. When the eruption was ended, Al­phonso and Thelismar returned to their lodgings, and two days after this memorable event left that unhap­py island.

From hence they went to the island of Policandro^*, where they found a Swedish traveller, a former friend of Thelismar's, who offered to accompany and guide them in their walks through the island. He brought them to his house, which he would partake with them; and after supper, addressing himself to Alphonso, said, My dwelling you see is simple, devoid of ornaments; but if you love magnificence, I have the means of gratifying your taste. I am so happy to see my old friend once more, that I have formed the project of giving him an entertainment in a palace, the richness and brilliancy of which may well surprize you.

[Page 101] Frederic, for that was the name of Thelismar's friend, then rose, called his servants, who came with torches, and went forth with Alphonso and Thelis­mar.

They came in about half an hour to an enormous mass of rocks. Behold my palace, said Frederic: the aspect, it's true, is a little wild, but we must not always judge from appearances. Stop here a moment, if you please, and let the servants enter first.

The servants then distributed torches to about a dozen men who had followed them, each of whom lighted his flambeau, and proceeded forward. When Frederic saw them at a certain distance, he and his company began to follow.

They had not gone above a hundred paces, before they perceived an immense arcade, and their eyes were immediately dazzled by the splendor of light. Come in, said Frederic, this is the peristyle of my pa [...]ace; what think you of it?

The question was addressed to Alphonso, but he was too busy in considering the brilliant spectacle before him to reply. The walls of this vast peristyle seemed covered with gold, rubies, and diamonds; the ceiling decorated with waving garlands, and pendant ornaments of chrystal; nay, the very floor on which they trod, was paved with the same rich materials (36).

Pardon me, my dear mamma, cried Caroline, for interrupting, but I can hold no longer. Were these pure diamonds?

No; they only seemed such; but the resemblance [Page 102] was so perfect, as to deceive the eye most accustom­ed to consider such objects.

Well, that is very singular; and is it true, dear mamma, that such a palace once existed?

It exists still.

Oh dear, still!

Yes; in the island of Policandro.

Oh the charming island! Will you shew it us to-morrow, mamma, in the map?

Yes; willingly.

Mamma, if you will permit me, my next geogra­phical lesson shall be to trace upon the maps all the travels of Alphonso; for I can remember them all perfectly, and so I can all the extraordinary things he has seen.

So be it: but in the mean time, let us continue our tale.

Frederic shewed Alphonso how extensive this su­perb palace was; and after having passed more than two hours in examining and contemplating the won­ders before them, they once more returned to the house of their host. Alphonso learnt from Thelis­mar, that the pretended palace of Frederic was all the work of nature; and the knowledge of this encreas­ed his admiration▪

Thelismar having formerly made the tour of Italy, had no intention of returning thither,; but his friend Frederic, who was going to Reggio, entreated his company; to which Thelismar the more readily con­sented, because it was the only part of Italy he had not seen.

[Page 103] Frederic, Alphonso, and Thelismar, left Polican­dro, and sailed for the Morea^*. Here they beheld the ruins of Epidaurus and Lacedaemon. From the Morea they went to the island of Cephalonia, where, once more embarking, they sailed for Reggio^†. The day after their arrival in that city, our three travel­lers brekfasted in the chamber of Thelismar, the win­dows of which looked towards the sea; their conver­sation was interrupted by a thousand shouts of joy, heard from every part. Alphonso ran out instantly, to know what was the reason of such noisy and ani­mated acclamations: he asked several passengers, who all answered, still running as they spoke, We are go­ing to the sea-side to see the Castles of the Fairy Mor­gana.

Alphonso returned, and gave an account of this strange answer; our travellers, therefore, opened their windows, and beheld a sight, the beauty and singu­larity of which surpassed every thing they had hitherto seen.

‘The sea which bathes the coast of Sicily, began to swell and rise by degrees; in a little while the huge waves formed a perfect representation of an immense and dark chain of mountains; while the surges which washed the coasts of Calabria, remained with a tranquil and smooth surface, like to a vast and shining mirror, gently inclining to the walls of Reggio. This prodigious looking-glass [Page 104] soon reflected a most miraculous picture; millions of pilasters, of the most elegant proportion, and ran­ged with the utmost symmetry, were distinctly seen, reflecting all the bright and varied colours of the rainbow; scarcely did they retain this form a mo­ment, before these supberb pilasters were bent and changed into majestic arcades, which likewise soon vanished, and gave place to an innumerable multi­tude of magnificent castles, all perfectly alike; while these palaces were succeeded by towers, colo­nades, and afterwards by trees and immense forests of the cypress and palm (37).’

After this last decoration, the magic picture disap­peared, the sea resumed its ordinary aspect, and the people who stood upon the strand, clapped their hands in transport, a thousand times repeating with joyous shouts, the name of the Fairy Morgana.

And so mamma, interrupted Pulcheria, we are at length come to our Fairy Tales again?

Indeed we are not: this last Phaenomenon, as well as all the other, is taken from nature.

But there is a Fairy called Morgana, you know, mamma.

I have only told you what the people of Reggio say; who are generally ignorant and credulous, are fond of fables, and easily adopt them.

But these magic pictures.

Are produced by natural causes.

I cannot conceive at present, why every body do not pass their lives in travelling, reading, and ac­quiring knowledge, in order to understand and see [Page 105] things so curious and interesting; but dear mamma, be pleased to continue your recital.

Alphonso began to think like you; the astonish­ment which so many extraordinary events continually raised, excited an ardent curiosity and strong defire of obtaining knowledge; his trifling amusements no longer pleased; he became thoughtful, spoke with reserve, and listened with attention; but in propor­tion as his mind became enlightened, he discovered faults in his past conduct, every recollection of which made him bitterly repent.

He could not now comprehend, how it was possi­ble he should have forsaken his father. The obsti­nate silence of Don Ramirex grievously afflicted him; he ardently desired to arrive at Constantinople, where he expected to find letters from Portugal: and though he had a passionate attachment to The­lismar, though he had almost a certainty of obtain­ing the hand of Dalinda, he yet determined to quit the former in Turkey, and return to Europe, there to sacrifice his hopes and happiness to filial duty, if he received no intelligence from his father.

This resolution plunged him into a state of melan­choly, of which Thelismar searched in vain the cause; which he even augmented, in wishing to dis­sipate, by marks of the most tender affection. He often spoke to Frederic, in his presence, of Dalin­da, to drive away his dejection; while these conver­sations, far from softening the secret pangs of Al­phonso, but embittered them the more. Thelismar at last took leave of Frederic, quitted Reggio, and [Page 106] returned to Greece; and travelling through it, came to constantinople towards the end of April.

Alphonso found a letter at Constantinople from Portugal, which he received with inexpressible anxi­ety; it was not from Don Ramirez, but informed Alphonso his father had returned to Portugal, had passed some time at Lisbon, and had left that city, declaring he was going to undertake a voyage of eighteen months. The letter added, that nobody doubted Don Ramirez had had several private con­versations with the King, and that the purpose of his voyage was some secret negociations; that they were in great expectations of seeing him once more in office, because his successor and enemy had been disgraced, eight days after his departure.

The gentleman, who wrote an account of all this, ended his letter by saying, he had not seen Don Ramirez, as Alphonso had desired him to do, be­cause, being on a tour to France, he had not re­turned to Lisbon till three weeks after his depar­ture.

From the date of this letter, Alphonso calculated, that his father could not be in Portugal in less than fifteen or sixteen months, he therefore abandoned his project of returning thither immediately: in fact, having no money, he had no means of subsistence in the absence of Don Ramirez; and he was pretty certain his travels would be ended, and he should re­turn to Europe in less than a year. The silence of his father deeply afflicted him; but the assurances of his health and safety were great consolations, and he [Page 107] did not doubt but time and his future conduct, might regain the affections of his father.

Alphonso, now less sorrowful, less absent, con­versed with Thelismar as formerly; who appeared so satisfied with the change he had remarked in him, that Alphonso thought he might venture to speak of Dalinda. At first Thelismar was satisfied with gen­tly reminding him of his promise; and Alphonso, emboldened by this indulgence, several times fell in­to the same error; till, at last, Thelismar was dis­pleased, and Alphonso was obliged to be silent, though he still sought occasions to speak his senti­ments indirectly, and to complain of the restraint imposed upon him.

Frederic had given Thelismar letters of recom­mendation to one of his friends, a Greek, who pos­sessed a charming house on the canal of the Black Sea; this Greek, whose name was Nicandor, was not then at Constantinople. Alphonso and Thelis­mar, therefore, in about a fortnight went to Buyuk-Dairai, a village eight miles from Constantinople^*, where Nicandor and his family past a part of the summer.

It was the first of May, and ten in the morning, when our two travellers arrived at Buyuk-Dairai. As they entered, they saw the streets full of young people, elegantly clothed, and crowned with gar­lands, singing, and playing on various instruments; every house was decorated with flowers, festoons, [Page 108] and roses, and adorned by a multitude of young Grecian beauties, surrounded by slaves magnificently clothed.

This spectable delighted Alphonso; and Thelif­mar, acquainted with the customs of Greece, inform­ed him, that it was thus they celebrated every first of May; that on this solemn day, young lovers fix­ed coronets of roses over the doors where their mi­stresses dwelt, and sung their praises under their win­dows (38).

Alas! said Alphonso, they are happy, for they are heard. That favour, replied Thelismar, is no proof of their happiness.

But what happens when two rivals meet under the same window, or at the same door?

They fasten their coronets on each side, and sing alternately.

After our travellers had stopt some time in the first street, they continued their way; and Alphonso, perceiving at a distance a house more ornamented with flowers than the rest, said, certainly that is the habi­tation of some celebrated beauty; he was confirmed in this opinion, when coming nearer, he beheld two charming young virgins standing in a large balcony.

The guide informed them this was the house of Ni­candor, and they entered; the master came immedi­ately to receive them, and after having read the letter of Frederic, embraced them both affectionately, and testified the liveliest hopes that they would remain with him some time. Nicandor and all his family spoke French tolerably well: Thelismar understood that language perfectly, and Alphonso knew some­thing of it.

[Page 109] Nicandor called his slaves, who conducted the tra­vellers into a spacious hall, the walls of which were Parian marble, where a bath was prepared (39).

After bathing, Nicandor came and conducted them into the apartment of his wife Glaphira; she was seated upon a sofa, with her two daughters, Glyce­ra and Zoë, and an old and venerable woman, the nurse of Nicandor, who, according to the customs of the modern Greeks, the family called Paranama, a gentle epithet, expressive of gratitude, and signi­fying second mother (40).

The daughters were superbly dressed, both had long floating robes, white veils, decorated with gold fringe, and girdles richly embroidered, fastened with buckles of emeralds (41).

Glaphira and Nicandor questioned Thelismar, con­cerning his travels, and prevailed on him to recount some of his adventures. After which they sat down to table, and their repast being ended, Zoë brought her lyre, and accompanied several duets which she sang with her sister (42).

This agreeable music being over, Nicandor pro­posed a walk to his guests, which they readily ac­cepted.

He led them into the meadows, in one of which they beheld a multitude of shepherd [...] and shepherd­esses clothed in white, and adorned with garlands of flowers, almost all holding in their hands branches of the green palm, the myrtle, and the orange tree; some danced to the found of the lyre, while others gathered flowers, and sang the praises and the return of spring.

[Page 110] Look, said Nicandor, at that young virgin crown­ed with roses, and [...] her companions; she is their Queen; she [...] the Goddess of flow­ers; and, while called by the charming name of Flora, receives the ho [...]ages of all the village throng: but her reign is short; [...] the empire of youth and beauty, and ends before the decline of day.

While Nicandor was speaking, the young Queen gave a signal, and all the sheperds [...] round her; one of her virgin companions [...] sang a hymn in honour of Flora and the spring; at the end of each couplet of which, the shepherds repeated in chorus this burthen:

"Welcome sweet Nymph! blest Goddess of the May."

After which they continued their dances (43).

Having walked round the meadows several times, Nicandor re-conducted his guests back to his house, where they found Glaphira and her daughters sur­rounded by their slaves, employed at embriodering, each in turn relating short stories and moral sa­bles (44). Though Alphonso did not understand Greek, he was charmed with the picture by beheld. The youthful Zoë was speaking, and [...] [...]jured her to continue her [...] the [...] began again, with a grace which augmented the bloom of her cheeks, and her modest di [...]ence.

Zoë related the history of a young virgin on the eye of her marriage, quitting the paternal mansoon. She told her tale with equal truth and feeling, and painted the interesting and deep grief of a tender and grateful daughter tearing herself from the arms [Page 111] of her beloved family, Glycera listened to the de­tail with extreme emotion; involuntary tearn then bathed her down [...]ast eyes, and watered the flowers she embriodered; her mother, who observed her, called her with a broken vo [...]e [...], and held out her arms. Glyeera rose, ran, and threw herself at her mother's knees melted in tenderness.

The history is interrupted; Nicandor approaches Glycera, kisses her affectionately, clasps her to his bosom: the lovely Zoë quits her work, and flies to her sister's arms: the slaves testify their feelings at this touching scene; and Nicandor, in a few mo­ments, taking Alphonso and Thelismar into another apartment, explained the cause of what they saw, by first telling them the subject of Zoë's fable, and then informing them, that Glycera was herself at the eye of marriage.

The very same evening, the young man, chosen to be the spouse of Glycera, sent large baskets mag­nificently embellished, containing ornaments and nuptial presents for Glycera and the family. The next day the young Greek came, attended by his pa­rents and friends, to the house of Nicandor; the beauteous and affecting Glycera appeared; she had on a silver robe, embroidered with gold and pearls, and fastened with a girdle of diamonds; her tresses floated upon her shoulders, and a Hymen [...]al crown adorned her head while she wept, and hid herself in her mother's arms.

Glycera received the parental benediction kneeling, which Nicandor pronounced with great tenderness, but with a solemn and firm tone; while the feeling [Page 112] mother, incapable of articulating a word, raised her swimming eyes to heaven, and pressed between her trembling hands the hands of her daughter. After this moving ceremony, the two families, united and followed by all their slaves, walked to church; this superb train was preceded by a band of vocal and in­strumental music: after them came the young virgin, supported by her father and mother; her pace was slow, timid, and trembling; her down-cast eyes were evidently wet with tears she vainly endeavoured to re­tain. According to the ancient usage of Greece, the Torch of Hymen was carried before her, and her slaves, husband, parents, and friends closed the procession, in which order they arrived at church.

After the ceremony, the bride and bridegroom were re-conducted in pomp to their house, the front of which was illuminated, and ornamented with flowers and foliage; cups of wine were given to all the guests, and the young people received nosegays bound with threads of gold, the person who pre­sented them saying, Go ye and marry also. These words roused the attention of Alphonso, who looked at Thelismar. A banquet succeded, and the dan­cing continued till midnight (45).

Alphonso left this feast in a sorrowful mood; the remembrance of Dalinda, and the fear of never, per­haps, tasting a happiness such as he had been a spec­tator of, afflicted him deeply. This melancholy continued several days, but it was insensibly dissipat­ed by the new and agreeable objects which sur­rounded him, and especially by the tenderness of Thelismar.

[Page 113] Thelismar and Alphonso every day after their walk, went regularly to the embroidering room, whither Glycera, and the young friends of Zoë al­ways came; Nicandor explained, in a whisper, to the strangers, the subjects of the tales related by these young Greeks; and when Zoë spoke, Alphon­so became particularly attentive; he often would change places with Nicandor or Thelismar, the better to see them embroider, and he remained longest al­ways at the frame of Zoë; he praised all their per­formances, but he only looked at that of Zoë; he once more undertook to design flowers, and offered every day a new pattern to Zoë for her embroidery; at last he began continually to vaunt of the manners and customs of Greece; and thought Buyuk-Dairai the most delightful place he had ever seen.

One morning when he was alone with Thelismar, the latter praised him highly for his conduct. I am quite enchanted with you, continued he, dear Al­phonso; I see you begin to acquire a command over yourself.

Do I?

Yes; and I cannot conceal my satisfaction; for these three weeks past you have learnt to hide and overcome that melancholy, at which I was so uneasy; you are obliging, amiable, and attentive in compa­ny; and what must have cost you more than all the rest, you speak no longer of Dalinda; be assured I feel the value of this effort.

So saying, Thelismar embraced Alphonso, who suf­fered his embrance with a cold and mournful air, with­out making any reply; a moment's silence succeed­ed. [Page 114] Alphonso walked thoughtfully about his cham­ber, then suddenly turning, No, Thelismar, said he, I must not deceive you; I should be unworthy of your kindness, were I to leave you in an error—he stopt and blushed.

What would you say? answered Thelismar.

Perhaps, exclaimed Alphonso, I am going to ruin myself.

Ruin yourself! what, by being sincere! and to me, Alphonso! Can you suppose it?

Know then, that though my heart is always the same, though Dalinda alone has touched it, and though, were it not for the hope of becoming your son, life would be a burthen—yet—if I have ceased to speak of her, if I have seemed chear­ful, do not attibute this conduct to the efforts of reason, but on the contrary to—

Come to my arms, interrupted Thelismar, come noble and dear Alphonso, this proof of thy candour and confidence justifies my affection for thee.

Oh my father! Oh my indulgent friend! cried Alphonso.—

See, continued Thelismar, how fleeting a sensa­tion love is, dear Alphonso, when not confirmed by an affectionate and solid friendship: two large black eyes, an ingenious countenance, a sweet smile, and five or six stories which you did not understand, have made you, in three weeks, forget the object of that passion which you presented was [...] violent.

It is true, that the young Zoë amused and inter­ested are; it is true, [...] my sorrows from my mind, and that Dalinda was less frequently [Page 115] present to my imagination, but she was ever in my heart.

Do not deceive yourself, Alphonso, you have yet no real attachment to Dalinda, because, at present, you know nothing of her but her form.

But that form proclaima a soul so pure, so superi­or! Besides, I know Dalinda by her letters, her acquirements, her tenderness for you! In a word, Dalinda is the daughter of Thelismar, and is not that enough to make her passionately beloved?

All that is not a sufficient foundation for a deep and durable attachment, which cannot exist without mu­tual considence and friendship. But let me ask you a question concerning Zoë: how has it happened, that you have not perceived the impression she has made upon you?

It must certainly be a want of reflection.

Imagine then, for a moment, the consequence of wanting such reflection. I have more than once ob­served, that Nicandor and Glaphira do not approve your excessive respect for Zoë; so many attentions, a preference so marked, must soon injure the reputa­tion of the young virgin to whom they are paid. You have risqued troubling the repose of, and bring­ing sorrow into a house, where their treatment de­mands all our gratitude.

Heavens! you make me shudder—but henceforth I will think, I will each day severely examine my ac­tions, my sensations, and, what may be more effec­tual, I will every day consult you, and never more will I conceal my thoughts from you.

[Page 116] And now, said Thelismar, I must quit myself of a promise which I have not forgotten. So saying, he opened a casket, took out the fash of Dalinda, and gave it Alphonso. It belongs to you, said he, you have a right to it, since I promised it to you on the very first proof of your sincerity.—

Oh Thelismar, said Alphonso, greatly affected, what a moment have you chosen! And am I per­mitted to receive a pledge so dear in this house!

Yes; if it still continues dear to you; if you have still the same sentiments.

Then I dare accept it—Alphonso threw himself at Thelismar's feet, recceived the sash of Dalinda kneeling, and kissed with transport the hand that gave it.

Remember, Alphonso, said Thelismar, this from a father, is no light, no trifling gift; from this moment our engagement is mutually sacred. I have adopted you as a son; I promise you an amiable and virtuous companion for life; of whom you must become worthy, not by a romantic passion, but by a stable and uniform virtue. Continue to inform your mind, and improve your temper and understanding; it is thus you must prove your love for Dalinda, and shew your gratitude for my affection.

Nicandor came and interrupted their conversa­tion, and Alphonso, too much moved to support the presence of a third person, retired: he wished for solitude, that he might indulge, without constraint, the transports of his heart. It is needless to observe, that from that day forward he designed no more patterns for Zoë, paid her no other attentions than [Page 117] such as good breeding demanded, and avoided go­ing into the embroidering room.

The family of Nicandor, however, met an unex­pected affliction; one of their friends, lately return­ed from the Isle of Calki^*, to which he had made a short voyage, fell ill and died in four days time. Nicandor related many interesting particulars of the friend he had lost; and told how he had renounced the riches and honours which he had a right to ex­pect, that he might yield himself, without controul, to the delights of friendship and study.

This sage, continued Nicandor, who had retired to a pleasant house (46) near mine distributed the greater part of his income to the [...] he consecrated the rest to the embellishment of his habitation: his heart was virtuous, and his temper simple; he cultivated his garden himself, watered his flowers, and bred birds, for which he made an extensive aviary. Such were his innocent amuse­ments. Beloved by his friends, adored by his slaves, he had a sister worthy of himself, who lived with him, went with him every where, and who never can forget his loss. To-morrow, continued Nicandor, we shall perform the last duties of friendship; his sister will conduct the funeral rites.

But how will she have the fortitude? said Thelis­mar.

[Page 118] You are a man, answered Nicandor, who wish to know our manners, to study nature; come and see this sorrowful ceremony; you will there behold the workings of despair. Grief among us is never re­pressed, it is seen in all its energy. Among a peo­ple who are slaves to appearances and custom, sor­row is mournful and mute, but here it is eloquent and sublime.

This conversation excited the curiosity of Thelis­mar, who did not fa [...]l, with Alphonso, to follow Nicandor to the funeral of his friend. They went first to the house of Euphro [...]ine, the name of the sister above mentioned, and entered a chamber bung with black, where the corpse, magnificently cloth [...], and with the face uncovered, was laid in his coffin; the slaves were kneeling round, and venting their grief by tears and groans. Among them Thelismar distinguished an old man, still more profoundly afflict­ed than the rest, to whom Nicandor went and spoke.

Thelismar questioned Nicandor concerning this old man, who answered his name was Zaphiri. He was present at the birth of him we lament, said Nicandor; he is almost past the use of his limbs, and the impos­sibility of following the burial, adds to his grief: he has just told me, there is but one remaining pleasure for him on earth, the feeding of the birds, and the culture of the flowers, which once were his dear mas­ter's delight.

Nicandor was speaking, when Alphenso and The­ismar felt their blood run cold at the broken accents and dolorous cries they heard: it is the wretched Euphrosine, said Nicandor. Immediately a woman [Page 119] appeared, in long mourning garments, with disorder­ed hair, pale checks, and bathed in tears; she was supported by two slaves, and seemed scarcely able to drag her [...]low steps along; the august and affecting picture of a grief so profound, made her natural beauty more striking, more majestic; and her shrieks, her lamentable groans, were uttered in an accent so penetrating and so real, that it was impossible to hear them, and not at once feel astonishment, terror, and the most heart-rending pity.

The Patrian [...] and his attendants soon after ar­rived. The corpse was taken up, and a funeral dirge began. After passing through the village, and pro­ceeding less than a mile into the country, they came to a place over-spread with cypress-trees, tombs, and sepulchral-columns.

Euphrosine shrieked, and hid her face in her veil, as soon as she perceived at a distance the sepulchre prepared for her brother. They came at last to the grave, the procession stopt, the Patrierch pronoun­ced the burial-service, kissed the dead, and retired.

Euphrosins then raising up her veil came sudden­ly forward, and fell upon her knees by the side of the [...].

Oh my brother! cried she, receive the l [...]st farewell of thy unhappy sister: Oh, my dear, my affectionate friend! Do I then look upon then for the l [...]st time?—My brother:—i [...] this my brother!—Alas! yes, [...] are his features still; but, oh, insupportable thought! While I bathe him with my tears, while I call him, while my heart is torn with despair, his countenance still preserves the same [...] gloom, [Page 120] the same mournful tranquillity—Oh dreadful silence!—it is the silence of death—my brother is but a sha­dow; it is his image only Euphrosine kisses—what then have I for ever lost thee!—shall I never see thee more! Never!—never! No—I cannot submit to this—this eternal—this horrible separation. No, I will not suffer the hand of cruelty to tear thee from my arms, and plunge thee in the tomb—stop, Bar, barian, stop, forbear to dig his grave—pity my grief, or dread my despair.

The Patriarch again advanced to take away the body. Euphrosine [...] a dreadful shrick; her slaves flew to her assistance, and, in spite of her struggles, held her at some instance from the grave, while she, quite beside [...] [...]ent her garments, and tore up her hair by the [...] to scatter on the coffin.

Her tears then suddenly stopt: motionless and stupid her eyes were fixed upon the coffin, as they were lowering it in the tomb▪ But when she saw them place the marble over it, by which it was to be for ever hid, she shuddered dreadfully, and shrunk back. Oh God! cried the—Is it then done!

So s [...]ing the colour l [...]t her lips, her eyes clos­ed [...] into the arms of her slaves They [...] the [...] as soon as she [...] to [...].

[...]she sshould cross the [...] soon [...] she [...] the old [...] in one hand a [...] and in the other a watermg [...]; she looked and [Page 121] and shuddered; it was the occupation of the de­ceased; she ran towards the slave, what art thou doing Zaphiri, cried she?

Alas! I am tending the flowers my master loved so much.

Miserable old man, said she, seizing the hoe, thy master is no more: this place must be evermore the place of sorrow, of desolation; let all that embellish­es it die, be its pleasures annihilated; open the nets; give liberty to those birds, whose warbling and mirth distract my heart; and these flowers, nurtured by my brother's hand, let them perish with him.

So saying, Euphrosine wildly and rapidly ran, cutting down, and trampling on all the flowers in her path (47).

This affecting scene made a strong impression on the heart of Alphonso; tell me, said he to Thelis­mar, when they were got home, how does it happen that ideas so opposite, may be the result of the same feelings? Why does this old man delight to culti­vate the flowers of his master, while Euphrosine, on the contrary, finds a kind of consolation in their de­struction?

Which of these two actions do you prefer? asked Thelismar in his turn.

That of the old man appeared most natural, and yet the other affected me more.

Common feelings produce only common effects, while a deep sensibility naturally begets extraordina­ry ideas and actions: thus, for example, if the wo­man, who has interested us so much, if Euphrosine had reason, taste, and discernment, as well as such [Page 122] strong passions, and if she were then to write, her works would certainly possess originality, energy, feeling, and truth.

And is it not the possession of these qualities which constitutes genius?

Undoubtedly! If genius did not originate in the soul, would it be a gift so precious, so desirable, or could it so powerfully excite envy?

Thelismar and Alphonso passed some few more days at Buyuk-Dairai; after which they took leave of Ni­candor and his amiable family, quitted Greece, and entered Asia by Natolia. They staid a little while at Bagdad^* and Bassora^†, and stopped at the island of Bahrein, in the Persian Gulf, where they saw the fa­mous pearl fishery (48). From thence they departed by sea for the kingdom of Visapour.

During this voyage Thelismar and Alphonso were one evening walking the deck, and conversing on the wonders of nature. I think at present, said Alphon­so, I know them all.

Dear Alphonso, since you are so learned, replied Thelismar, explain the meaning of the phaenomenon which at this moment appears; look this way on yon­der waves.

Alphonso went to Thelismar, and looking as di­rected, beheld the vessel encircled by fire, to which the total darkness of the night gave an additional [Page 123] brilliancy; the surface of the sea was entirely covered with small sparkling stars, and every wave, as it broke, cast forth a shining light.

The wake of the vessel was of a luminous silver white, interspersed with dazzling azure sparks (49).

In confess, said Alphonso, this is a glorious sight, and absolutely new to me.

Come let us go to bed, replied Thelismar; and should you happen to awake in the night, I am per­suaded you will make some solitary reflections on that presumption which is but too natural to you, and which persuades you of the extent of your knowledge, when every day proves the contrary.

Alphonso made no reply, but embraced Thelismar, and went to bed.

Scarcely had he been asleep half an hour, before there was a noise in his cabin that awaked him: he had put out his light, and was frightened at opening his eyes, by perceiving fire on the partition opposite his bed; he rose hastily, and his surprize increased at beholding, in large legiable letters of sire, these words written upon the boards:

Learned Alphonso, your terror is ill sounded, this fire burns not (50).

Ashamed and astonished, Alphonso put his hand upon these fiery characters, and felt no heat: Oh Thelismar! cried he, what surprizes me the most is, that you have the art to render the lessons which wound self-love agreeable. Thelismar immediately appeared, with a light in his hand, smiling; and after having explained to him the nature of this seeming fire, re­tired, and Alphonso once more went to sleep.

[Page 124] It is also time that we should go to sleep, inter­rupted the Barronness, for the evening has been much longer than usual.

The next evening Madame de Clémire again con­tinued her history of Alphonso.

Our travellers being arrived at Visapour, visited the diamond mines (51), and afterwards went to the Court of the great Mogul. Thelismar having obtain­ed an audience of the Emperor, was permitted with Alphonso to see the Palace. They passed through many apartments, and found, in all of them, beau­tiful women, in magnificent habits, armed with lan­ces, who formed the interior guard of the palace. They came to a vast and splendid hall, hung with gold brocade, where the Monarch was sitting on a Throne of Mother of Pearl, entirely covered with rubies and emeralds; four Columns, all bespread with diamonds, supported a canopy of silver, embroidered with sapphires, and ornamented with festoons and pearls; a superb trophy, composed of the Emperor's arms, his quiver, bow, and sabre, garnished with jewels, and connected by a chain of topazes and diamonds, were suspended to one of the columns; the Emperor himself was in cloth of gold, and in the centre of his turban was a diamond of prodigious brightness, and so large, that it extended almost over his whole front: various rows of fine pearl formed his bracelets and collar; and an infinity of precious stones, of various colours, enriched his girdle and his buskins: before him was a table of massive gold, and all the great lords of his court, in most sumptuous robes, were standing ranged round his throne.

[Page 125] Thelismar presented to him several mathematical instruments, of which, by means of an interpreter, he explained the use. The Emperor seemed pleased with the presents and conversation of Thelismar; told him, it was his birth-day; that the whole empire ce­lebrated the festival, and invited Alphonso and The­lismar to spend the evening in his palace.

Evening came; wine was brought in vases of rock chrystal; every body was seated, fruits were served in plated of gold; the musicians entered, and the hall soon resounded with cymbals and trumpets. The Emperor filled a goblet of wine, and sent it to The­lismar; the goblet was of gold, enriched with the turquoise, the emerald, and the ruby. When he had drank, the Emperor desired him to keep the cup and mark of his friendship.

When the repast was almost ended, two large basons of rubies were brought the Emperor, which he threw among the courtiers, who all scrambled for them. Soon after two other basons were brought full of gold and silver almonds, which were thrown, and snatched with the same avidity.

Thelismar and Alphonso, as you may well sup­pose, sat still, ashamed of, and contemning the co­vetousness and meanness of the Mogul lords.

The Emperor also distributed pieces of gold-stuff and rich girdles to several of the musicians, and some of the courtiers; after which the drinking began. Thelismar and Alphonso were the only people who remained sober; the Emperor, unable to sit upright, hung his head and fell asleep, and then every body retired.

[Page 126] When Alphonso and Thelismar were alone, The­lismar said to the former, What do you think of this Court?

I think, replied Alphonso, he is the richest and most magnificent Sovereign upon earth.

And the happiest, and most respectable likewise?

I know not if he be happy, for I know not if he be loved, if his reign be peaceable and glorious: but I confess there is nothing august in his person; nothing which enforces reverence. There is not a single Prince in Europe, who has so little the air of majesty.

And yet there is no European Sovereign, who may be any way compared to him for pomp and shew. Gold, pearls, diamonds, and all the Asiatic ostenta­tion, do not therefore of themselves impress any real respect. What must we think then of those frivo­lous Europeans, who affix so great and imaginary a value on those shining trifles? I wish the European women, who are richest in such possessions, and who are sometimes properly enough, by way of derision, called queens of diamonds, I wish they could be transported here for twenty-four hours. What would one of them say, at seeing herself totally surpassed in such bright ba [...]bles, by the very slaves of the Emperors [...]ives.

For my part, answered Alphonso, blushing a lit­tle, I shall no more mention the diamonds that my father lost during the earthquake at Lisbon. But pray tell me how it happens, that the great Lords of this Court, who seem so rich, are yet so covet­ous? [Page 127] How meanly did they hustle one another for the gold and jewels the Emperor threw.

Their whole emulation is that of being more su­perbly drest than others; they only seek to distin­guish themselves by silly outside shew; and you see how much this kind of vanity, carried to excess, can make men capable of the most degrading acts. But to return to the Emperor: you say you are ig­norant if he be happy; can you suppose a monarch so ignorant, so debased, happy.

If he be good, he may be beloved.

We do not love whom we despise; ought he not, for the good of his people, to be well informed, just, and estimable. Besides, this Monarch has no subjects, they are only slaves, and he is a despot; he exercises a tyrannical power outwardly, while he is inwardly tormented by all the fears and terrors, which ever were the just punishment of tyrants. The homage paid him is forced; and while adulation of­fers him incense, hatred is secretly conspiring his destruction; his life is past in suspicion, or the pu­nishment of traitors; he is in continual fear of all that approach him; and to complete his misery, his very children are suspected.

The next day, Thelismar and Alphonso went early to the palace; the Mogul was then at war with the Sovereign of Decan, and was going to vi­sit the camp where his troops were assembled. His wives were mounted on elephants that waited at their doors: Thelismar counted eighty of these ani­mals all pompousty equipped; the little towers they carried were plated with gold, and embellished with [Page 128] mother-of-pearl; the same metal too formed the bars of their grated windows; a canopy of cloth of silver, with tassels hung with rubies, covered each tower.

The Emperor was carried in a palanquin of gold and mother-of-pearl, set with pearls and precious stones: many other palanquins followed that of the Emperor, and a vast number of trumpets, drums, and other instruments, mixed among a crowd of officers, richly clothed, who carried rich canopies, and umbrellas, of brocaded gold, hung, with pearls, rubies, and diamonds, led the procession.

Our travellers, after having admired the splender of his camp, quitted the court of the great Mo­gul (52), and went to the kingdom of Siam. Here they saw the famous white elephant so much revered in India: his apartment is magnificent, he is served kneeling, and in vessels of gold^*. "These atten­tions," says an illustrious philosopher^†, ‘these respects, these offerings, flatter him, but do not corrupt; he has not then a human soul; and this should be sufficient to demonstrate it to the In­dians,’

There was now but one part of the world un­known to our travellers, America, for which they embarked, and came to California; from thence they went to mexico; and as they were on their route to the town of Tlascala, Thelismar looking at his watch, stopt his carriage, and alighted; tel­ling [Page 129] his servants to wait, and carefully look to the horses; for, added he, night will suddenly overtake us.

How! said Alphonso, laughing, night! not so suddenly, for it is only noon.

Thelismar made no reply, but seeking the shade, turned towards some trees at a little distance. Al­phonso, as he followed, perceived an animal, the extraordinary figure of which raised his attention; it was nineteen or twenty inches long, without rec­koning the tail, which was at least twelve, and sca­ly, like a serpent; its ears were like those of the small owl, and its hair erect.

The animal stood still, and Alphonso wished to examine it; he observed it was waiting for its young, which were running towards it; as they came up, it put them one after another into a bag or pouch beneath its belly, then ran towards the trees.

Desirous of observing so singular an animal nearer, and finding that it could not run fast, Alphonso pursued it; he had just overtaken it when it came to the foot of a tree, up which it ran with surpriz­ing agility, and seizing the end of one of its high­est branches with its tail, twised it round, and there remained suspended, apparently motionless (53).

Alphonso was going to mount the tree, when he heard on every side of him a loud crackling, which redoubling, seemed like the discharge of artillery; at the same instant he was covered with an innume­rable multitude of small black grains, darted on him from all parts (54). He hastily drew back, and [Page 130] hid his eyes with his hands, which were considera­bly hurt by the grains that had struck them.

The pain was so great, that he was obliged to keep them shut for some minutes, at last he opened them, but no sooner had he done so, than he cried out, Oh heaven! I am blind! Oh Thelismar! Oh Dalinda! I shall never see you more.—Thelismar, Thelismar, where are you?—Do not abandon the unhappy Alphonso.

As he said this, he heard pretty near him a burst of laughter, and knew it was the voice of Thelismar. What then, continued he, does Thelismar insult my misery? No; it is not possible.

He then recollected that Thelismar, when he got out of his carriage, had told his servants that night approached; he began therefore to take courage, and doubt the truth of his blindness, nothwithstanding the midnight darkness that surrounded him; he fol­lowed the sound of Thelismar's voice, till he found and seized him in his arms.

I cannot at present, said Thelismar, serve you as a guide, Alphonso, for I am as blind as you are.

Thanks be to heaven, replied Alphonso, that I am acquitted for the fright only; I find now, that the cause of my fear is nothing but an eclipse of the sun; but I did not think that eclipses ever produced such total darkness, nor can I conceive by what art you could foretell, with so much precision, the exact mo­ment of this phaenomenon.

While Alphonso was speaking, the sun, once more beginning to appear, dissipated the fearful obscurity that had blackened every object; the profound silence, [Page 131] the midnight calm, soon ceased, and nature seemed to revive; the birds, with fresh animation, thinking they sang the return of Aurora, gave notice by their loud and lively warblings, of the birth of day (55).

Thelismar and Alphonso now regained their car­riage, and the eclipse, the animal, and the strange artillery, furnished our travellers with subjects for conversation, which were not exhausted when they arrived at Tlascala.

Quitting Mexico, Thelismar and Alphonso em­barked for St. Domingo; here Alphonso flattered himself he should find a letter from his father; he was mistaken, but he received news from Portugal, though such as gave him great affliction.

He learnt, that Don Ramirez had not returned to Portugal; that the public opinion was totally changed concerning his being again taken into favour, and sent on an embassy; most people even supposed him exiled, but were totally ignorant to what part of the world he he was retired.

This intelligence overwhelmed Alphonso with grief; uncertain now of what might be his father's fate, his remorse became more keen than ever.

Thelismar came to seek him, just as he was in the midst of these melancholy thoughts. I come to tell you, said Thelismar, you will see Dalinda much sooner than you hoped; she is at Paris with her mo­ther; they will wait for us there; to-morrow we will depart for Surinam, from thence we will embark for France, whith [...] we shall go directly. But in the mean time, added Thelismar, before you see Dalinda, [Page 132] I will shew you a present I have just received from her. Here, open this, do you recollect that form?

Heavens! cried Alphonso, it is the portrait of Dalinda! What a wonderful picture! What a strik­ing likeness! How perfect is the painter's art!

This picture will interest you still more, when you know it is the work of Dalinda herself.

Dalinda! Has she then every talent as well as e­very charm? Oh permit me once more to look on this precious painting.—Yes; behold her ange­lic features; look, there is her enchanting smile. How happy, Thelismar, are you in the possession of such a treasure!

And yet I desire another picture of her; I would have her paint herself once more, but with her hus­band by her side; and when, Alphonso, she shall give me that, I promise you shall have this.

Alphonso only replied by tenderly pressing the hands of Thelismar, and watering them with his tears.

Far from feeling a joy pure and unmixed, he looked upon it as his indispensable duty to return to Portugal, hoping there to find some sort of informa­tion concerning his father: he was unalterably de­termined to declare his resolution of going thither to Thelismar; but this resolution was too painful, not to cause the most violent agitations in his mind.

He had never had the courage to confess a fault, for which he justly and bitterly reproached himself; he wanted the power to tell so dear à friend he had left Spain clandestinely, without his father's con­sent; and this first dissimulation, had obliged him [Page 133] to disguise the truth in a thousand other instances: at last, however, he firmly purposed to expiate all his wrongs by his sincerity, without reserve, and, if necessary, by the most painful sacrifices; and in this disposition left Saint Domingo. They arrived at Surinam^* about dusk, and were struck by a most brilliant spectacle at their first entering that country. The coast seemed covered with an infinity of chan­deliers, hung without order, at unequal distances. Thelismar and Alphonso were admiring this agreea­ble illumination, when they perceived many of the lights were in motion, and advancing towards them.

A moment after they plainly distinguished eight or ten men who walked nimbly, though they seemed covered with small lighted candles; some on their bonnets, some on their shoes, and some on their hands. This vision greatly surprized Alphonso, who wanted to come near these men; but they passed hastily by, and, as Alphonso did not understand the language of his guides, he could not satisfy his cu­riosity.

When they came to the house where they were to lodge, they were shewn into a pretty chamber, as clear as day; but, as Alphonso remarked, that the lights were placed in two small glass lanterns, he wished to see them nearer: he then discovered, with astonishment, they were nothing but green flies, of a bright emerald colour, which gave all this light.

[Page 134] We have now an explanation of the thing we wanted, said Thelismar; the trees being in a conic form, are covered with these flies, and resemble, at a distance, girandoles and chandeliers hung in the air; the men we met, had fastened these shining in­sects on their bonnets and feet, and carried them in glass tubes in their hands.

The very same eveing, Alphonso learnt these beautiful flies were more than one way useful. When he was in bed, they were taken from their little lan­terns and let fly about the room, in which he was informed, they would kill the knats, which might otherwise disturb his rest (56).

Alphonso, however, a prey to inward grief and chagrin, could not close his eyes the whole night; he rose before day-break, determined no longer to defer opening his heart to Thelismar, but to inform him of all his faults, and all his sorrows.

He went to walk upon the sea-shore till Thelis­mar should rise, and after straying a considerable time, sat down at the foot of a tree, where he fell into a vague and painful reverie; presently his eyes became heavy, he began to doze, and in a few mo­ments was asleep. He was awaked by a piercing and sorrowful cry, and opening his eyes, saw him­self in the arms of Thelismar, who was bearing him away.

Alphonso endeavoured to speak, but could only utter some broken and plaintive sounds; pale and faint, he could not support himself, he wanted even the power of thought. Thelismar laid him down on the grass, ran towards the sea, filled his hat with [Page 135] salt-water, and made Alphonso drink it; after which, with the help of some servants, he raised and took him home.

Alphonso came to himself by degrees. Where am I, said he, as he felt his strength returning?

Oh my son, said Thelismar, have I not spoken to you of this fatal tree? Have I not told you, that to sleep beneath its perfidious shade is to die (57)?

It is true, cried Alphonso, with a languishing voice, I recollect it now.

Providence be praised, you are out of danger; but had not my fears for you brought me where you lay, the very instant they did, I should have lost you, Alphonso.

And do you weep for me, my father? For me! Oh most affectionate of friends! best of benefac­tors! wherefore have you snatched me from the arms of death? I had then been regretted by you. The­lismar, while weeping for the miserable Alphonso, would then have been ignorant of his worst errors.

What do you mean, Alphonso?

I am overpowered by your favours, penetrated by your bounties; my affection for you is the reigning sentiment of my heart, and yet I am the most un­fortunate of men.

Heavens! Which way? how?

A single word, Thelismar, may make you judge of my situation; I cannot follow you to France!

And why not?

Sacred duty dictates my return to Portugal: Oh! that by this painful sacrifice I could expiate my fault!

[Page 136] What fearful remorse is it that overwhelms you?—But—no—thou art incapable of wickedness or meaness; speak, be confident, open thy heart to thy friend.

Alphonso shed tears of gratitude and joy at hear­ing this, was silent a few moments, then taking courage, owned, without reserve, how he had de­ceived Thelismar, when he assured him that Don Ra­mirez approved his travels; related the circumstance of his flight, and painted, in the most moving man­ner, his remorse, and uninterrupted inquietude con­cerning the fate of his father.

When he had finished his recital, Thelismar, with a softened heart looked at him, and said, No, I will not abandon thee; I myself will conduct thee to Portugal.

These words inspired Alphonso with gratitude so strong, so passionate, he could only express it by fal­ling at the feet of his generous friend.

Yes, continued Thelismar, we will find this un­happy father; I will enjoy the pleasure of giving thee again to his arms; for I dare assure him thou now wilt make him happy. We shall arrive some­what later in France, but Dalinda will see thee re­conciled to heaven and thyself, and honoured with the paternal benediction, Don Ramirez will cer­tainly consent, without scruple, to your union with Dalinda. My fortune is not immense, but it is more than sufficient; the ties which attached Don Rami­rez to Portugal, are all broken; it will be no diffi­cult thing to engage him to look on Sweden as his country, and my house as his own.

[Page 137] This is too much, said Alphonso; Oh Thelismar! let me breathe; my heart cannot express its feelings towards a benefactor such as you; gratitude becomes a passion; words are weak; I cannot tell you what I think.

This conversation delivered Alphonso from one part of his troubles; the indulgence and tenderness of Thelismar assuaged the bitterness of remorse, and gave birth to the sweetest hopes.

Before they quitted Surinam, Thelismar and Al­phonso were invited on a fishing party, and rose on the day appointed early in the morning. In their way to the sea-side, they crossed a marsh full of ex­traordinary trees; from their flexible branches, bun­dles of filaments hung down, lay upon the ground, took root, grew, and formed other trees, as beau­tiful as those to which they were united, and of which they were only shoots, which again multiplied after the same manner; insomuch that a single tree might become the parent stock of a whole forest.

But what most surprized Alphonso was, that these trees were covered with shell-fish! A multitude of oysters were fixed to their branches (58)

Thelismar was explaining the cause of these sin­gular things, when they arrived on the strand; they went on board, the fishing began, the net was thrown, and the haul was a good one.

Alphonso seeing an exceeding large fish, very like an eel, went and touched it with a little switch that he had in his hand; no sooner had he done so, than he felt so great a pain in his arm and hand, that he gave a loud cry before he could recollect himself. [Page 138] The fishermen all began to laugh: and Alphonso, piqued and astonished, remained motionless awhile.

Recovering himself, he went again to the fish, and said, I do not know how the touching this fish can cause so violent a shock; but I will shew you at least, that though I may be surprized, I am not to be intimidated.

So saying, he stooped down and touched the fish with his hand. He did not cry out this time; but he received so terrible a shock, that if Thelismar had not stepped forward, and catched him in his arms, he would have fallen; and was so stunned by the violence of the stroke, that he almost lost the use of his senses.

As soon as he was perfectly recovered, I will shew you, said Thelismar, a still more astonishing effect produced by this fish. We are fourteen people in all, let us form a circle, and each hold the other by the hand: I will stand first, and you last; I will touch the fish with a stick, and, although separated from me by twelve people, you shall yet feel the fame shock as I.

The experiment was made, and confirmed all that Thelismar had predicted (59).

The day after this adventure, our travellers quit­ted Surinam and America, and embarked for Portu­gal. During the voyage, Thelismar, in return for the confidence Alphonso had placed in him, satisfied a curiosity he had long entertained. Alphonso could not conceive how Thelismar might resolve to quit his country for four years, and tear himself from a fa­mily so dear to him, for so long a time.

[Page 139] Thelismar informed him, that his Sovereign, being the protector of literature and learned men, had engaged him to make this sacrifice: the favours of my King, continued he, my love of science, and the particular delight I take in natural history, have de­termined me to undertake an enterprize, the fatigues of which my friendship for you has made me chear­fully support; the care of forming your heart, and enlightening your mind, together with the affection you have inspired me with, alone could soften the uneasiness and chagrin I have often felt, and which are inseparable from the feeling mind absent from its native home.

After a favourable voyage our travellers landed in Portugal, where all the information that Alphonso could procure, relative to Don Ramirez, was very feeble and insufficient. They assured him, that his father had not been seen there during the last two years, and, after an infinity of researches, Alphon­so was persuaded Don Ramirez was either in En­gland, or in Russia. The interests of his family re­quired Thelismar should go to England; this Al­phonso knew: therefore in quitting Portugal he had the consolation to think he should not stay in France, but follow Thelismar and Dalinda to a land in which he hoped to find his father.

Thelismar, as they drew near to France, thought proper to make his young pupil promise carefully to conceal his love from Dalinda. You will travel with her, said he; I have told you it is the wish of my heart to unite, by the most holy ties, two objects who are now almost equally dear to me; but you [Page 140] cannot, Alphonso, dispose of yourself without a fa­ther's consent: I have no doubt his consent will be granted; yet there is a possibility it may be refused.

Oh heavens! refused!

Were I to present you to Dalinda, as her future husband, she would look upon you, beyond dispute, with the eye of affection; and, uncertain as we are, would it be right to hazard troubling the repose of her life?

I trouble her repose, or trouble your's! though but for a moment? No; let me rather never be­hold her—but we are so certain of my father's consent.

And yet, suppose, through some unaccountable caprice, he should refuse.

What, my father pronounce sentence of death up­on me!

Either Alphonso, I have lost the fruits of all my cares, or you will support this misfortune with forti­tude. Is it in the power of fate to make us misera­ble while we are virtuous, and while we possess a faithful friend?

Oh Thelismar! you shall for ever be the sovereign arbitrator of my destiny. Do you not dispose of my actions, my opinions, my feelings, as you please? Oh yes; and the ascendency you have acquired you can never lose; reason, virtue, gratitude, and friend­ship confirm your power. I will faithfully follow the law you impose—I will see Dalinda, and be si­lent—Yet what an effort! But shall I doubt my power to perform what you prescribe?

[Page 141] Our travellers came to Bourdeaux, whence they immediately departed; and their carriage breaking down at the distance of thirty leagues from Paris, they were obliged to stop where the accident happen­ed. Thelismar wrote from this place to his wife, informing her he should certainly be with her the next day by five in the afternoon at latest, and deli­vered the letter to a courier, who departed immedi­ately. Thelismar and his pupil rose before day­break, got into their carriage, and departed for Pa­ris.

What a charming morning! said Alphonso, trans­ported and embracing Thelismar, as he beheld the rising sun; what a fine day! Before it is ended, I shall see Dalinda.

Remember your promise, replied Thelismar; I dread lest you should betray your feelings at this first interview.

Oh, I am certain of myself.

Do not be too sure: take my advice; from this moment moderate those transports; those joys which in a few hours must be totally concealed; let us speak of something else.

How is it possible?

If you wish to acquire a command over your pas­sions, accustom yourself to regulate your imagina­tion at your pleasure, and to banish any certain train of thoughts, when you wish so to do.

But provided my conduct be always rational, will it matter what my thoughts are?

How is it possible to give any marking proofs of fortitude, if we are habitually feeble? He who suf­fers [Page 142] his imagination to have dominion over him, can neither drive from his memory what is dangerous to recollect, nor reject thoughts he ought not to enter­tain; and can such a person always be supposed ra­tional? The facutly of thinking should be turned to the improvement of the heart and mind; but we pervert this noble faculty, when we suffer our ima­gination to dwell upon objects beneath, unworthy of, or derogatory to ourselves; therefore there is no doubt but the most secret thoughts of a wise man are far more pure and sublime than his words.

Alphonso sighed, and for a few moments remain­ed silent; then, by an effort over himself, entered again into conversation. Thelismar spoke of their travels, and recapitulated whatever they had seen most remarkable; discoursed on the arts, chymistry, botany, and various subjects of natural history, while Alphonso was insensibly drawn to listen with pleasure.

How happy you are, said Alphonso to Thelismar; how extensive your knowledge, nothing can asto­nish, nothing is new to you.

How mistaken you are, replied Thelismar. The heaven and earth, the universe, all we see, all that environs us, is the work of an infinite Being; an eternal book, in which man, till the end of time, shall find secrets that are impenetrable, objects for ever new, and discover, through each succeeding age, mysteries the most sublime, without ever know­ing them all.

Thus conversing, they drew near to Paris, when our travellers, almost equally moved, became thought­ful [Page 143] and silent; they remained so a considerable time. At last Alphonso said to Thelismar, Will you not own that, at present, you do not chuse your thoughts, but that you are obliged to accept those which so forcibly, so naturally present themselves?

As Alphonso was speaking, the postillion told Thelismar he saw something which very much sur­prized him in the air. Thelismar looked out, and discovered, above the clouds, towards Paris, a small round body, opaque and dark, which appeared in motion, and slowly approaching as it were, to meet them.

Thelismar astonished, looked very attentively at this phaenomenon, and his astonishment increased at beholding the body become larger and luminous. He determined to descend the better to examine it, and the terrified postillion had already stopt his hors­es. They alighted in a charming meadow, adjoin­ing to Arpajon, six leagues from Paris; the lumi­nons globe, however, seemed still to increase in size.

It is a meteor, said Alphonso, and much such a one as I saw in Spain, when I was travelling to Loxe.

It is no meteor, said Thelismar.

What is it then?

I cannot conceive: it approaches still, and still becomes brighter. Have you your pocket telescope about you?

Yes.

Lend it me—Thelismar took the telescope that Alphonso presented him, and having adjusted it, looked and cried, it is incredible: I can perceive [Page 144] underneath this globe a kind of vessel, a small ship fastened to it; this is certainly an illusion—Here, take your turn to look.

Alphonso took the telescope, and presently ex­claimed, good God! I see a man!

Thelismar began to laugh; you have hit it, said he, it is Abaris the Scythian^*.

I am not surprized at your incredulity, said Al­phonso; for though I am certain I see it, I do not believe it—and yet—why what enchantment is this?—heavens!—I now see two people di­stinctly!

Alphonso rubbed his eyes, and the telescope dropt from his hands; he looked at Thelismar, who mo­tionless and fixed in amazement, said not a word! The globe still kept approaching, and at last appear­ed almost over their heads. I can doubt no longer, cried Thelismar: this globe of purple and gold con­tains living beings!—I see them!—Oh inconceivable prodigy! Oh happy triumph of auda­cious genius!

While Thelismar was speaking, the globe hover­ed over his head, majestically descended, and they saw in the vessel, suspended to the globe, two celesti­al figures; they were females: the one had the dig­nity and beauty of Juno or Minerva; the other clothed in white, and crowned with roses, resembled Aurora, or the charming goddess of spring-time and flowers.

[Page 145] Alphonso flew towards the globe; he was stopt by a violent palpitation of the heart; no, cried he these ravishing creatures cannot [...]e mortal—they approach—they come hand in hand—surely it is Inno­cence and Virtue, descending from heaven to give back the golden age—but—good God—is it a new delusion?—Oh, Dalinda, this young di­vinity, the more to charm us, has taken thy form—I dare not believe my eyes, and yet my heart can­not deceive me—Yes, it is she, it is Dalinda herself!

Alphonso wildly called Thelismar, just as the globe and its car touched the earth; while the latter, pale, trembling, petrified with surprize and doubt, looked on it, sent forth a piercing cry, and trans­ported with joy, ran, or rather flew towards them.

The two divinities were not less eager▪ they sprang, they wept, they sunk in his arms.

Alphonso, quite beside himself, durst not follow the dictates of his heart; he stopped, and the excess of his feelings obliged him to lean against a tree, for his trembling legs were unable to support his bo­dy.

In the first moments of joy, the magic globe, the car, the miracle, were totally forgotten. The­lismar behold nothing but his wife and daughter, and his curiosity was suspended, superior to the pow­er of all enchantment. Alphonso, a witness of his happy meeting, did not taste a joy unmixed; he con­templated Dalinda with ravishment; he enjoyed, with transport, the sweet pleasure of understanding her in her native language, while she spoke every thing [Page 146] that filial affection could inspire to a dear and ten­der father. But this interesting scene brought to memory Don Ramirez, and all his wrongs; and thus was one single subject of remorse sufficient to poison all his pleasure.

Reflection, after a while, having again given birth to surprize and curiosity, Dalinda and her mother were questioned concerning the miracle they had seen. They replied, they had not ventured themselves pas­sengers in the Air Balloon, had they not first seen ex­periments which had assured them of its safety; that knowing the day and hour when Thelismar would ar­rive, and having a favourable wind, they could not resist their desire of thus surprizing him, especially when it would bring them sooner to his arms; that living in the same house with a philosopher, who had a globe ready prepared, they had seized so favourable an opportunity of flying to meet a husband and father so dear; they added, as they were hovering over the meadow of Arpajon, they had distinguished a carriage and horses with their telescopes, and consequently had descended.

Thelismar after this went to examine the globe, and his wife gave a short account of the experiments which had been made at the Muette, and the Tuile­ries. Thelismar self himself greatly moved, while she described the general enthusiasm which these sublime experiments had excited; and the universal admira­tion with which the whole nation beheld the immor­tal author of that discovery, and the two illustrious philosophers, whose heroic daring had procured to France a spectacle s;o pompom, and so new.

[Page 147] Thelismar likewise heard with pleasure, that all the truly learned partook in this well-founded national enthusiasm; and Alphonso was astonished to find, that envy wanted power to poison the triumph of the au­thor of this brilliant discovery.

A little reflection, said Thelismar, will rob you of your surprize; such lights as may serve to guide men to the things they wish, are always received with transport. Suppose a chymist, by making a discove­very, should open a new career to the learned, and furnish materials for an infinity interesting specula­tions, and a multitude of new ideas: would he not thus afford them new means of distinguishing them­selves, and acquiring glory? From one discovery a thousand others may arise, while each philosopher is only busied in bringing it to perfection, and thence deducing new lights and further fame: thus, far from endeavouring to diminish the merit of the first inven­tion, each employs his talents and his genius to make it more useful, consequently more glorious.

You give me infinite pleasure, said Alphonso; there exists then a way, in which men may run to­wards the same goal, may overtake and outstrip, yet not hate each other. Oh noble triumph, in which the victor is crowned by the vanquished; where the' excellence of an individul is the delight of the whole and becomes to them an inexhustible source of fame and fresh success. Oh that men of wit would follow this sublime example!

You wish a thing impossible, answered Thelismar facts cannot be denied: a discovery proved by expe­riment, is beyond criticism, above censure; but so [Page 148] are not works of imagination. An author who writes to the fancy, may ardently desire to prove his work is good, but cannot do it geometrically; it is in vain that he may affirm it a hundred different ways in his preface, when whosoever pleases can affirm the con­trary: thus when he has composed a Chef-d' oeuvre, ill taste and malignity may deny his merit, Hence arise disputes, unjust criticisms, and enmities which dishonour literature. The philosopher can write no­thing which describes new facts that is not useful to all other philosophers; while the wit and talents of the man of polite literature are subservient only to his own individual fame.

After this conversation, they took a turn in the meadows, then entered their carriages, and went for Paris, where they arrived in the evening.

Thelismar made no stay in this city, but departed with his family and Alphonso for England. They passed some time at London; but not being able to learn any tidings of Don Ramirez they left it, and went to Buxton in Derbyshire.

I will conduct you, said Thelismar, as they were walking out, to a fountain, which, from the fabulous virtues attributed to it, would be much better placed in Sicily or Greece than England. It is pretended, that the spring only flows for constant hearts; and that any lover, capable of the least infidelity, cannot drink of its waters, because they stop at his approach. It is long since I heard this old tale, added Thelis­mar, the gallantry of which recals to memory the fountain Acadine and the story of Argyra (60).

[Page 149] The guides now spoke to Thelismar in English, which language Alphonso did not understand: they tell me, said Thelismar, we are not an hundred yards from the fountain; but as the road is full of stones and brambles, they and our servants will go before and clear the way. Let us sit down under these trees a moment till they call. So saying, Thelismar seat­ed himself between his wife and daughter, where they had not sat long, before the guides returned, and conducted them to the fountain.

I am going, said Thelismar, smiling, to his wife, to prove a fidelity, of which I [...] you have never doubted; besides, this clear and abundant spring in­vites me to drink; I therefore willingly consent to submit to this proof of perfect constancy.

So saying, he approached the spring and drank two or three times. Who, continued he, will, after this, pretend that men are inconstant! You see—But come, Alphonso, are not you thirsty?

No, replied Alphonso, laughing: however I will drink.

Alphonso drew near, but Thelismar stopped him, as he was going to stoop, and whispered, What, have you the audacity to expose yourself to this proof; have you forgot Greece, and the black-eyed youthful Zoë?

Nay, Thelismar, now you are cruel.

Well, well, since you have engaged with so much temerity, you must go through with it now; you must drink.

While this dialogue was passing, Dalinda drew near, and Alphonso fearing she might overhear The­lismar's [Page 150] jokes, stooped towards the fountain; but as his lips drew near the stream, it instantly ceased to flow. Alphonso, abashed and astonished, felt his heart violently beat, and stood like the statue of sur­prize. Dalinda blushed and smiled, though with an air of some constraint, while Thelismar silently, with mischievous pleasure, looked on; at last, A way pro­fane mortal, said he, in a tragic tone, depart from these sacred haunts.

Certainly, said Alphonso, this cannot be a real fountain.

I protest, said Thelismar, it is.

I own it has all the appearance of one. And can you, who possess so many other wonderful secrets, forbid the fountain to flow?

That would indeed be a wonderful secret.

Yet I have seen you do things as surprizing.

This, however, surpasses my power; I assure you I have no influence over this fountain; the pro­digy at which you seem so much astonished, is entire­ly the work of nature. I will endeavour this even­ing to explain the phaenomenon; in the mean time, Alphonso, cede your place to me, for as I have a clear conscience, I dare supply it, unterrified by your disgrace; look, and you shall see the stream flow once more.

As Thelismar approached the spring, it began a­gain impetuously to bubble forth its waters; and when the had enjoyed his triumph for a moment, Thelismar took Alphonso under the arm, and quit­ted this miraculous fountain.

[Page 151] Alphonso was not ignorant enough to believe the fountain was enchanted; and after some reflection, he nearly divined the cause of an effect so extraordi­nary; but Thelismar's pleasantry had so disconcerted him, that he could not recover himself during the whole walk.

Thelismar departed from Buxton, and conducted his wife and daughter to the frontiers of Scotland (61), where they left him to go to Edinburgh. The wife of Thelismar had an ancient relation and bene­factor who lived in that city, and who was very de­sirous to see her once again; while, therefore, they went to Scotland, it was determined that Alphonso and Thelismar should make a tour to Iceland.

Alphonso at parting from Dalinda, acquitted him­self with a fortitude that even surpassed the hopes of Thelismar; fearing he should betray himself, he de­termined scarcely to look at her, and pronounced no other kind of farewell but such as mere politeness re­quired.

As soon as he was alone with his friend, he uttered his tender plaints, but the praises of Thelismar soon softened his chagrin. They embarked and arrived in Iceland, at Skalhot, whence they went to Geizer. The first thing they admired in this wild place, was a cascade of prodigious height; but another, and a newer spectacle, soon drew all their attention: look this way, said Thelismar, behold the supberb columns of ruby, ivory and crystal, which cover that immense plain.

Alphonso turned, and over a vast extent of ground, among rocks and gulfs, he saw thrown up into the [Page 152] air, at equal heights and distances, innumerable spouts of water, as from prodigious fountains, and of various colours; some of a bright red, some of a dazzling white, others of pure and limpid water, but almost reaching to the very clouds (62).

Alphonso and Thelismar could not be tired with so beautiful, so brilliant a sight. They admired ma­ny other phaenomena in the same island, equally cu­rious; and, after having seen every thing it contain­ed, of interesting and uncommon, they re-embarked, and again returned for England, where Alphonso once more saw Dalinda, when the pains of absence were forgotten, though the necessity of hiding it considerably abated his joy.

Thelismar left England with inexpressible satisfac­tion, and at last embarked for Sweden. After so many travels, so many perilous voyages, to see him­self in his own country, in the midst of his fa­mily and friends, was a delight not easily to be de­scribed.

Here he had the pleasure to find once more the vir­tuous Zulaski, with whom he had lodged at the Azore Islands, and whose house was miraculously thrown in­to the sea. Thelismar learnt with joy, that the filial piety of this young man had made him the object of public admiration; that his sovereign had heaped be­nefits upon him; that he had found his mistress faith­ful, and that he was married, and the happiest of men.

Thelismar wished to contemplate him in the bosom of his family; he there saw Zulaski, with his father on one side of him, his wife on the other, and his [Page 153] child, a beautiful boy, not two years old, on his knees. Oh Zulaski! said Thelismar, where is hap­piness that may be compared to your's? The wife you doat on, the child you love, your wealth, your reputation, your pleasures, your felicity, your glory, all, all the effects of your virtues. And your hap­piness is still the more pure, since it is too interest­ing to incite envy. Those qualities which are only brilliant, have ever more enemies than admirers; but those which are the offspring of the heart, obtain the suffrages of all. You cannot outshine other men, without wounding their pride; whilst you a­stonish them, you often irritate: and whenever you are personal, you are assuming. Your son too, that tender object of your dearest hopes, what may you not expect from him: since, to make him worthy of yourself, to make him feel how extensive are the sa­cred duties of nature, you have only to relate your own story.

Alphonso, more than ever a prey to disquietude, concerning the fate of his father, and cherishing still the fond hope of finding him in Russia, told Thelismar he was determined to go to Petersburgh. Easily imagining what Alphonso's afflictions must be, should he not find Don Ramirez there, Thelis­mar determined not to abandon, but go with him.

At Petersburgh they found Frederic, the old friend of Thelismar, whom they had met in the island of Policandro: I am destined, said Frederic, to shew you, and see in your company, extraordi­nary things; follow me, and you shall behold a pa­lace of chrystal.

[Page 154] We know, said Alphonso, that you call a cavern formed by nature a palace. For this time, however, replied Frederic, it is no play of words, but a real palace, built by men, according to the most regular rules of architecture.

This assurance scarcely could persuade Alphonso; therefore, to cure him of his incredulity, Frederic im­mediately took him to the marvellous palace. As soon as they came in sight of it, Alphonso uttered an exclamation of surprize! He saw a real transpa­rent palace, of beautiful architecture, apparently built of various coloured chrystal.

Go on, said Frederic, and your amazement will be doubled: look at yonder battery.

What do I behold, cried Alphonso: Cannon too of chrystal.

The concert is going to begin in this inchanted castle, continued Frederic, you may go in, if you dare enter a palace which must at least be the habi­tion of fairies.

I am too much accustomed to them now, said Al­phonso, to stand in fear of enchantments.

So saying, he passed beneath the brilliant porticoes of the palace; and, led by celestial harmony, came to a magnificent hall, the walls and columns of which, built of the same materials with the rest, were, like­wise, ornamented with garlands and festoons of roses; the girandoles of chrystal, which were placed in the angles of the hall, were filled with an infinite number of wax-lights, which being reflected on every side, produced a most dazzling brightness.

[Page 155] But what struck Alphonso most, was the beauty of the women, which he found assembled in this magic palace. He was in no danger of taking them for fai­ries, they were clothed nearly as Calypso, or the nymphs of Diana are painted; something like Are­thusa, or the beauteous Atalanta; their robes were the spoils of animals, run down, or vanquished at the chace; their mantles, made of the skins of the ermine and the fox, hung from their shoulders, fastened with diamond clasps; and, in these supberb habits, their charms effaced the brightness of the habitation.

Quitting this palace, Alphonso was informed of the nature of the materials with which it was built; it was the ice taken from the river Neva (63).

What, mamma, cried Caesar, a palace of ice!

Nothing is more certain!

Filled with burning candles too, and yet not melt! How is it possible to find▪ ice thick enough for such a building? Besides, you said the palace was of various colours.

My notes will answer all these questions.

Oh dear, cried Pulcheria, how I long to read these notes!

You had reason, mamma, to tell us that Fairy Tales are not so miraculous as your's! but pray, dear mamma, continue your story, we will not interrupt you any more.

It is too late, said Madame de Clémire, you shall hear the rest to-morrow.

The following evening Madame de Clémire thus continued the History of Alphonso.

[Page 156] All the enquiries of Alphonso, relative to his father, were as fruitless in Russia, as they had been in England: overwhelmed with grief, he found, in the affections of a generous benefactor, the sole con­solations he was capable of receiving. Neither duty nor the laws, said Thelismar, permit you to marry, without the consent of your father; you must, there­fore, dear Alphonso, submit to your fate; all that depended upon you, have you done to find him; now then you must wait with resignation, till the age that you are allowed to dispose of yourself; you must henceforth be separated from Dalinda, and see her no more till you receive her hand. You shall pass this time in Sweden, in a house that appertains to me, and in which I lived before my travels; I will conduct you there, and leave you alone, while I go to Stockholm and join my family. We shall be separated, but we shall inhabit the same▪ country, and with the certitude of being for ever united in two years.

Alas! said Alphonso, how cruel an exile, how severe a separation will this be to me!—If Dalinda only knew my love—might I but hope her pity—but I submit to my fate; and oh! may the pangs I shall suffer expiate my guilt; may heaven, moved by my repentance, give me back a father who has caused me so many tears!

Thelismar l [...]ft Petersburg, and brought Alphon­so to his destined [...]treat. It was an antique man­sion, situated in a wild place, near S [...]lseberist.

Here th [...]n, said Alphonso, is the solitude in which I must pass two long years; were it not for the [Page 157] cutting remembrance of my father and my faults, I might support this rigorous exile with fortitude, but remorse now will be my only companion.

Always preserve, said Thelismar, this just remorse; but be not vanquished by it: industriously employ yourself in bringing that knowledge, the elements of which I have given you, to perfection. I formerly promised you a treasure, the value of which you are now capable of knowing; behold those shelves, those books; behold there, my dear Alphonso, an immor­tal work, which will more extensively instruct you in the secrets of nature. I will stay with you a few days, and shew you the neighbourhood; in these sa­vage environs you will find objects worthy to excite your curiosity.

The next morning Thelismar and the melancholy Alphonso, were in their carriage by day-break. The­lismar promised to shew him something curious, but Alphonso was too deeply pensive to hope that any thing might divert his sadness. After they had rode about three miles, they came to a wild desolate place, surrounded on all sides by enormous moun­tains.

Here let us stop, said Thelismar. If I had not known your courage, Alphonso, I would not have brought you to this desert, for our enterprize will be very perilous. Look here—do you perceive various gulphs on the other side of those rocks?—Into the abyss they lead to we must descend.

As Thelismar spoke, two men of a fearful aspect approached; they were wrapped in long dismal [Page 158] garments, with naked arms, and lighted torches in their hands.

These are our guides, said Thelismar; here we must separate; we shall soon meet again.

Accordingly he went with one of the men, and Alphonso followed the other, who walked silently be­fore. When they had gone a little way, Alphonso found himself on the brink of a pit; he stopt, and saw in the mouth of this abyss, a kind of small bar­rel or basket, suspended in the air; into this bark the guide leapt, and Alphonso followed; after which the guide, still keeping the lighted torch in his hand, made his deep hollow voice reverberate down the gulph; and while its sides still shook with the sound, their vehicle began to descend, and an invisible hand seemed to precipitate them into the deep bowels of the earth. Alphonso looked upwards at the infinite firmament of heaven, which was an imperceptible point; this point itself presently vanished, and he only saw his strange attendant, who seemed the very counterpart of the ferocious ferryman of hell.

After travelling thus about a quarter of an hour, Alphonso began to be astonished at the length of the way, and the immense depth they had descended; when suddenly he heard a noise, which he presently found to be impetuous torrents, dashing and roaring round him, unseen, on all sides, and recalling to his imagination the fearful and tumultuous streams of Tartarus.

At last the vehicle stopped, he jumped out; The­lismar came running again to join him, and after walking a little way, Alphonso was surprized by [Page 159] the sudden appearance of light. He advanced, but not far; he stood motionless with amazement: he found himself in the midst of a vast and magnificent hall of silver, sustained by pillars of the same metal, round which were four spacious galleries: a brook of limpid water crossed this hall and these galleries, while the sumptuous edifice was lighted by an infini­ty of lamps and flambeaux. All is shining, all daz­zles in these subterranean regions; the lights are re­flected and multiplied by the silver walls and vaults, and the chrystal waters, which wind along the hall.

Alphonso and Thelismar entered the galleries, where they found crowds of people variously employ­ed; farther on Alphonso discovered houses, saw horses and carriages pass and repass; and, moreo­ver, to his inconceivable astonishment, perceived a windmill.

What! mamma, interrupted Caroline, a subter­ranean town of silver, and in that town horses, car­riages, and a windmill!

The town exists at this moment, exactly as I have described: but let me finish my tale, my dear, with­out farther interruption.

While Thelismar and Alphonso were beholding these wonders, Thelismar shuddered, on remarking the lights began to burn blue. He looked up, and saw above his head a kind of whitish veil: he instant­ly took Alphonso by the arm, dragged him down, and forced him to lie with his face upon the floor; at the same moment, a terrible and universal shriek resounded through the vaults; the lamps were all ex­tinguish [...] and to an illumination the most brilliant, [Page 160] succeeded darkness the most horrid, which was yet augmented by a profound and utter silence.

At last, in a few seconds, a noise was heard like the discharge of a cannon, when instantly every body rose, and cried the danger is over; the lamps were re-lighted, and Thelismar turning towards Alphonso, said, death has passed over our heads. Such is the fearful peril to which men are often exposed, in these profound deeps which avarice has dug. Alas! these unhappy people deprived of the cheerful light of day, enjoy not the riches they wrest from the bosom of the earth: misery buries them in these tombs of terror, and, instead of enjoying the riches that pass through their hands, they have scarce enough to buy them food; their days are consecrated to the most painful labours; their health is destroyed, and their term of wretchedness is shortened (64).

How much, cried Alphonso, you interest me in favour of these unfortunate victims! Poor unhappy creatures! But look, added Alphonso, what is the matter yonder, where that crowd is assembled!

Alphonso ran towards the other end of the gallery, and Thelismar followed: they were told, that one of the workmen, not having put out his light quick e­nough when the mephitic vapour discharged itself, was wounded, and that they were endeavouring to give him assistance.

Let us run, said Thelismar, I have a bottle in my pocket, which may be of service to him perhaps.

They made their way through the crowd with all the haste they could; the unfortunate man was laying senseless extended upon the ground; he is dead, said [Page 161] one of his comrades, seeing Thelismar advance. Al­phonso, with a compassionate heart, drew near; his eyes, dim by tears, were cast towards the mournful object—He shuddered! started back!—sprang again towards him!—beheld him with distraction in his countenance! his blood froze in his veins! his hair stood an end; and, as if a thunderbolt had struck him, he fell speechless and lifeless to the earth.

Thelismar flew to the succour of Alphonso; he gave orders to the people who surrounded the supposed dead man, and then had Alphonso carried into another gallery; in about half a quarter of an hour Alphonso gave some signs of life, and some time after came more to himself.

Then it was, that the most horrible despair was seen in his looks, and disfigured his features—It is my father, cried he! 'tis he himself! it is my father!—Barbarians, give me my father! conduct me to him! let me see him! let me die by his side!—in what place! Oh God! in what dreadful state have I found him!—But he is dead! and do I exist!—have I enjoyed the light of heaven, while my father has uttered groans in this place of death and terrors!—Leave me, continued he, pushing Thelismar from him, with wild ferocity in his eyes; fly a monster unworthy to revisit the day. I renounce happiness, the world, and the blessed sun. This cave shall be my tomb, as it is, alas! that of my most wretched father; in death at least we shall be united.

During this scene of distraction, Alphonso in vain endeavoured to escape from the arms of his friend: hold, cried Thelismar, hold Alphonso; knowest thou [Page 162] me not? seest thou me not? hearest thou not my voice?

I see nobody but my father: I hear no voice but the voice of nature, whose cries rend my very heart.

Yet be calm; yet hear me: if you are certain you are not deceived, if it be your father, you yet may hope.

Almighty Providence! is he—is he alive?

His hurt is not mortal?

Eternal Father of mercies, cried Alphonso, falling on his knees, and raising his clasped hands to heaven, Oh God of boundless pity, hear me! have compassion on my pangs, my remorse, my despair, and give me back my father.

Compose your spirits, Alphonso.

Oh let us run; deign Thelismar, to guide my steps; let us fly.

No; at present it is improper; such an interview might be fatal.

But is he alive?—Do you assure me he lives?

I do—I am certain, that though apparently, he is not really dead. I gave orders they should carry him out of the pits into the air, and he is gone.

Has he revived? Has he spoken? Oh Thelismar, do not deceive me.

Alphonso! Is not my word sacred!—I have sent him to my house, and must follow to assist.

To your house! My father at the house of Thelis­mar, and alive!

I have ordered them to carry him in our carriage.

Oh! let us fly!

[Page 163] Thelismar and Alphonso immediately left the gal­lery, called their guides, and were drawn out of the pit: they were obliged to return on foot, but they were met half way by the horses and servants of Thelismar. Alphonso eagerly questioned the dome­stics concerning his father, but received only vague and unsatisfactory answers; his doubts and suspi­cions again revived, till his fears became insupport­able.

At last they got home, and Alphonso in vain en­deavoured to follow Thelismar into the sick man's chamber. You are not sufficiently master of your­self, said Thelismar; if the stranger is your father, you shall see him to-morrow; but give me leave to inform him properly first, and prevent the conse­quences which else might succeed.

Alphonso, obliged to submit, passed the day in an­xiety and trouble too violent to be described. Un­able, however, any longer to support his incertitude, he resolved to hide his intentions from Thelismar, and visit his father when every body was gone to rest. Accordingly, about midnight, he went to the cham­ber▪ door of the sick person, and knowing the bed was placed so that he might enter the chamber with­out being seen, he softly opened the door. With trembling steps he entered the room, and as he en­tered, heard the voice of Don Ramirez; his sensa­tions were so strong he could scarcely support him­self: but, alas! what were his feelings at hearing his father's discourse, who was raving in a fit of delirium.

[Page 164] Alvarez! Alvarez! cried aloud the wretched Don Ramirez, come!—come Alvarez, and drag me from this abyss of terrors into which thou hast plunged me; pity my pangs; look, behold my mi­sery. But how may thy eyes penetrate from the heights of heaven to the bowels of the earth? How dreary is this gulph, it contains the tomb of thy wife and son—There!—Ay, there they are▪ I see their p [...]le shades! behold how they me­nace. See, see, how they pursue me!—and must it be for ever thus?—But look; mercy, what do I see! thy son, Alvarez, arms Alphonso with a poi­nard; behold! he is going to revenge thee; now he strikes, now he pierces my heart—Stop, my son, is it for thee to punish a father? Wilt thou kill me first, and then abandon me? Ah, come at least and receive my last sigh, take my blessing ere I go.

Alphonso, unable longer to contain, was going to cast himself in his father's arms: but the watchful Thelismar appeared, caught hold of him, and in spite of his cries and resistance, tore him from the chamber.

A physician, whom Thelismar had sent for, came; at first he was doubtful; but in a few hours Don Ra­mirez became more calm, his delirium was gone, and the physician pronounced him out of danger: the transports of Alphonso's joy could now be only equal­led by his late excess of grief; and as soon as his hopes for his father were confirmed, his tenderness and obedience to Thelismar returned. During the last few hours, Thelismar, for the first time, had found him unjust, obstinate, and headstrong; but no [Page 165] sooner was he assured of his father's safety, than he became more submissive, reasonable, and tender than ever, towards his benefactor.

As soon as Don Ramirez heard he was at the house of Thelismar, he instantly asked, with an ex­clamation of surprize, for Alphonso; and it was now impossible any longer to defer the interview: Thelis­mar therefore sought for, and brought him into the chamber of Don Ramirez. Alphonso agitated, hop­ing, fearing, bathed in tears, ran and fell on his knees by his father's bed-side, whose arms were extended to receive him.

Oh my father! cried Alphonso, dear author of my being! Are you given back to me at last? and will you receive your guilty son again? Ah! surely you read my heart, or you could not: you there behold my repentance, my remorse, my love!—Yes, my fa­ther, my life hereafter shall be consecrated to you. I wish existence only, to repair my faults, to obey, to make you happy.—Oh speak to me, my father, let me hear the sound of a voice so revered; confirm my pardon with your lips; and oh! may it give me back the repose I had lost, and which I never could have enjoyed without you.

Is it not an illusion? at last, said Don Ramirez, Is it Alphonso? is it my son that I press to my bo­som?—I accuse thee not of thy errors and wretched­ness, both were equally mine: but heaven is appeased, and we are again united; again I see thee, and all my sufferings are repaid.

The weakness of Don Ramirez would not suffer him to speak any more: he became pale, and his [Page 166] head, heavy and helpless, dropped on the cheek of his son. Alphonso, terrified, instantly ran for the physician, who brought Don Ramirez to himself a­gain; but forbade any more such conversations for the present.

This meeting did not forward the recovery of Don Ramirez. However, in a few days he was capable of sitting up, and Alphonso then related to him all his adventures. Don Ramirez gave a thousand testi­monials of his gratitude to Thelismar, and as soon as he was quite well, he also would relate his history. He confessed all his faults without reservation, and the whole circumstance of the history of Alvarez, the virtuous Portuguese hermit, whom he had met with on Mont-Serrat.

When he came to the epocha of the flight of Al­phonso, he thus continued his tale:

[Page 176] Don Ramirez ended, and Alphonso, whose tears had more than once interrupted the sorrowful tale, threw himself at his father's feet with every expres­sion, every mark of repentance, gratitude, and af­fection, which the best and noblest mind could feel. Don Ramirez, at the height of happiness, clasped his son in his arms, and bathed him with his tears, while Thelismar, in a rapture of silence, beheld the moving scene.

At last Alphonso, Don Ramirez, and Thelismar, departed for Stockholm. Alphonso now saw the love­ly Dalinda, and made himself large amends, for the painful silence to which he had been so long con­demned: and Dalinda, in learning that she had been five years beloved, learnt also the power which ho­nour and gratitude had over her lover. Then it was, that Alphonso applauded himself for having so faith­fully kept his word: by this virtuous effort he had entirely gained the friendship and heart of Dalinda.

The happy Alphonso received the hand of Dalin­da, and by his virtues and conduct justified the choice and affection of the generous Thelismar; the wrongs he had done his father he expiated by an unbounded attachment and▪ submission, and the most tender attentions. They lived always in the same house, and it became his glory and felicity to fulfil the extensive duties of nature, gratitude, and friend­ship. Thus did he constitute the happiness of his father, his benefactor, and his dear Dalinda.

What mamma, said Caroline, is the story of Al­phonso finished?

[Page 177] And the conversation of this evening, as well as the story, answered Madame de Clémire, as she rose from her seat.

Oh, what a pity!—but the notes?

We will begin to read them to-morrow.

How I do long to see these notes!

Well you may, they are much more interesting than my tale; but at present bed is the properest place.

The next day Madame de Clémire asked her chil­dren, whether they thought she had fulfilled her promise, to write a story as miraculous as a Fairy Tale, the marvellous of which should yet be true.

Oh yes, mamma, replied Caroline; and since there are so many extraordinary and curious things in nature, you may be certain we shall not seek the miracles we delight to hear of in Fairy Tales any more.

By reading books which shall instruct you, said Madame de Clémire, you will learn many other things as surprizing as those I have selected. Had I used all the extracts I have made, the history of Alphonso would have been in two volumes, and a better work; for, in order to abridge it, I was o­bliged to omit incidents which would have better connected the different parts, as well as an infinity of curious phaenomena. Yet my extracts contain nothing but well avouched facts. I have rejected not only such as appeared fabulous, but even doubt­ful. Had I been less scrupulous, I should have told you of a village where all the inhabitants became i­diots [Page 178] at eighteen; of a Virginian apple, which may not be eaten without the loss of reason for a certain space of time; of a tree, the boughs of which, though green, give as much light as flambeaux^*; of an animal half a league long (65), &c. I might have described a thing much better attested, and much less fabulous; such as Thelismar on the trou­bled ocean, commanding the elements, and calming the tempest (66). But I had no need to adopt any thing doubtful, since I have been obliged to leave out a multitude of the miracles of nature, all incontesti­ble: add to which, there is yet a multitude of which I am ignorant. Judge, therefore, what pleasure a tale of this kind would have given had it been writ­ten by a very learned person.

It seems, for example, said the Abbé to Madame de Clémire, you might have made something more of the phaenomena electricity affords, either in the course of the story, or in the notes.

I could do nothing better in that respect, I assure you, answered Madame de Clémire; and that for a very good reason: I am ignorant of experimental philosophy, a course of which I have gone through, like many others, and, like many others, am not much the wifer.

But, replied the Abbé, had you judged me capa­ble, I should have undertaken this part of the notes with pleasure.

[Page 179] My dear Abbé, answered Madame de Clémire, a woman ought never to suffer a man to add a single word to her writings; if she does, the man she con­sults, let him be who he may, will always pass for the original inventor, and she will be accused of put­ting her name to the works of others. One may be a very good woman, yet a very bad writer, but not were one to take the credit of other people's labours; one ought, therefore, carefully to avoid whatever might give room to so injurious an accusation. Scarcely has there been one woman successful in her writings, and not accused of this kind of baseness. Mademoiselle de Lussan had three assisting friends. Lassere ^* the Abbé de Bois-Morand, and Baudot de Jully. It has been said, been written, and is still believed, that Lassere wrote l'Histoire de la Comtesse de Gondez; the Abbé de Bois-Morand, Les Anecdotes de la Cour, de Philippe Auguste, and Baudot de Jully, Les Histoires de Charles VI. de Louis XI. and La Revolution de Naples ^†. The works of Madame de la Fayette are given to Segrais; those of Madame de Tencin ^‡ to M. de Pont-de-Veyle her nephew. The tragedies [Page 180] of Mademoiselle Bernard, which were played with success, are attributed to M. de Fontenelle, her friend; and those of Mademoiselle Barbier, are supposed to be the productions of the Abbé Pellegrin ^§.

[Page 181] These, and many other similar examples, ought, in my opinion, to prevent women from consulting men concerning their works, and from forming any inti­mate connections with men of letters.

This conclusion hurt the self-love of the Abbé. And so, madam, said he, with a forced smile, if ever you should become an author, and print your works, you would not consult any person.

Pardon me, replied Madame de Clémire, I should seek to know the truth, and not vain compliments or flattery. I should read them, not to a company of wits or strangers, but to my own family; and were they to give signs of sleepiness, or being wea­ry, I should wisely profit by this criticism, which, in my apprehension, is more certain than any o­ther.

The Abbé was piqued, and made no reply; Ma­dame de Clémire, therefore, changed the conversa­tion, and the children returned to the tale they had just heard.

How happy was Alphonso, mamma, said Caesar, to have an opportunity of seeing so many extraordi­nary things; when I am old enough, I shall travel too with my father, and see strange trees and singu­lar animals.

A-propos of singular animals, interrupted Ma­dame de Clémire, I have a number of them in my extracts, which are not mentioned in my tale; one of them I just now recollect, do you wish to hear it described.

O dear, yes mamma, if you please.

[Page 182] Imagine then a hairy monster, of a yellow cast, with eight legs, each of which is armed with two large claws, and each containing a moist sponge; besides these eight legs, this monster has something like two hands, with which it seizes its prey. Ar­gus▪ like, its head is covered with eyes, for it has eight, which are circularly ranged in front, while two pair of horrible pincers, armed wtih sharp claws, seem to issue from its mouth.

Oh, what a hideous and extraordinary monster that is!

There are many others, still more singular; would you believe nature produces creatures, which are in­creased by cutting them; that the same creature cut into eight, ten, twenty, thirty, or forty parts, is so many times multiplied?

Mamma! Is that possible?

The name of that creature is not difficult to di­vine, said the Abbé.

But what is the other, added Pulcheria, can you tell that?

I confess, said the Abbé, that the description your mamma has given of it, is absolutely enigmatical to me.

It is not the less exact, answered Madame de Clé­mine; I may have suppressed some of its characteri­stics, equally necessary to be known, but those I have given are sufficiently striking, to make such as have read its natural history recollect what I mean.

I what country is this monster found, mamma?

It is very common in France; ay, and Burgun­dy. You have seen it here a thousand times at Champcery.

[Page 183] Nay, mamma, I assure you I have never seen any such thing—Pray tell us what it is called.

A spider^* (67).

A spider! I should never have thought of a spi­der. How can a spider have eight eyes, a moist sponge between its claws, and pincers at the side of its mouth?

Had you ever examined a spider with a micro­scope, you would have perfectly distinguished all these particulars, and you may see them even with the naked eye on a large spider.

I will ask Augustin to bring me large spiders, for I must see their sponges, pincers, and eight eyes.

And I will read you the natural history of spiders, which I am sure will very much amuse you, and in which you will find many extraordinary circumstan­ces.

And what is the name of the other creature, mam­ma, which multiples by being divided?

The fresh water polypus (68).

Oh! I do not know that; it is not to be found in this country; and I think it is much more curious than the spider.

Since you are so desirous to see this prodigy, I will procure you that pleasure.

What, mamma, will you send for them from abroad? I am sure you are very good.

You shall have them to-morrow—the ponds of Champcery are full of them.

[Page 184] Why, is it possible? and we not know the name of so extraordinary a creature!

Nature every where abounds with most surprizing phaenomena; ignorance is deprived of the pleasure of knowing, of admiring them, while the philosopher finds, at every step, objects worthy to excite, and to satisfy his curiosity.

Oh dear mamma! we will ask, we will read, we will buy microscopes, and examine all the insects of Champcery, and at least become acquainted with the curious things around us.

The Abbé who had been a little vexed with him­self for not knowing the spider, at last broke silence. As your mamma has judiciously observed, said he, the tale of Alphonso contains but a small part of the phaenomena of nature: thus, for example, she has neither mentioned beavers nor elephants.

Perhaps that is, because mamma knew we were acquainted with the history of those animals, said Caesar,

But, continued Madame de Clémire, I have said nothing of numerous other animals, as singular and much less known, such as the toucan (69) the ka­michi (70) bats (71), &c.

The Abbé, who was ransacking his memory to find something miraculous, which Madame de Clé­mire had forgot in her tale, proceeded thus. It is certain, said he, that besides animals, the vegetable and mineral regions present a crowd of phaenomena, concerning which your mamma could not speak in so short a work. I think, however, she might have found an advantageous opportunity of mentioning [Page 185] the wax-tree (72), the sensitive-plant (73), fraxi­nella (74), and the amianthus (75).

After having run over this catalogue with great gravity, the Abbé rose and left the room, exceed­ingly well fatisfied with his memory. Pulcheria began to laugh. It is my opinion, said she, mam­ma, M. Frémont is a little vexed with you.

And if he be, replied Madame de Clémire, why should you remind me of it? Though he may be too susceptible, too liable to be out of humour, he is the more excusable, because he has never lived among the great; where, while people acquire a supple temper, and a refinement which teaches them to hide their own pretensions, and the little ridiculous exces­ses of self-love, they often lose sincerity, the first of virtues. I have more than once reminded you of what you owe to the preceptor of your brother. I have often repeated too, that we are not only for­bidden to make (even confidentially) malignant ob­servations on those with whom we live in intimacy, but that we ought also to banish the remembrance of their defects, and reject such thoughts as would make us recollect their errors.

Pulcheria was greatly affected by this lesson; but as she had only said a rash word for want of reflec­tion, as she wept without sullenness, and as she tru­ly repented of her fault, she soon obtained her par­don, and resumed her gaiety.

Eight or ten evenings were spent in reading the notes to the history of Alphonso. When they were ended, Caesar observed there was one of the prodi­gies [Page 186] yet unexplained. In the Canary islands, con­tinued he, after the adventure of the cavern and the Guanches, Alphonso wandered to the borders of a lake, where he saw the miraculous pillar, and the strange hail-storm: but what was more strange, when he returned home, be found Thelismar knew every thing that had happened to him at the lake; nay, that he saw him there, though he was on his own terrace, at two leagues distance.

True, replied Madame de Clémire, I have not explained this latter miracle in my notes; but come and breakfast to-morrow morning in the little belvi­dere at the high end of the meadow, and I will shew you Thelismar's secret.

This proposition was joyfully accepted by the young family, and the next morning every body as­sembled at the place appointed before eight o'clock. Here the children found a large machine, which greatly excited their curiosity: they asked its name, and were told it was a telescope.

Sit down on that chair, Caroline, said Madame de Clémire, and look into this end of the instrument through that glass.

Dear! dear! what do I see! cried Caroline; a large house not two steps off!

And yet it is a league distant, said Madame de Clémire; it is the chateau of M. de Lusanne.

Well, that seems incredible! I can perfectly di­stinguish all the people who pass and repass in the court-yard. There! now I see a servant feeding the fowls—and now a cow leading to grass—and now a poor woman begging—and now—

[Page 187] Nay, nay, interrupted Pulcheria, impatiently, you must let me see a little too, my dear sister.

Scarcely had Pulcheria taken her seat, before a joyous exclamation broke forth. O mamma, said she, I see Sidonia; I am sure it is her, she speaks to the servants—I will warrant she has the charge of the court-yard, for she seems to give orders. Oh! that is charming at her age; I wish I was as old that I might do the same!—There, now she stoops—now she rises—now she stoops again.—Oh! she is surely collecting the eggs—ay it is so, for somebody gives her a basket—and now she turns towards the poor beggar-woman.—Pray Caesar, continued Pulcheria, permit me to look a little long­er—Sidonia goes to the old woman—speaks to her—makes her come into the court-yard, and sit down on a bench—Sidonia leaves her basket with her, and runs—

Every one in their turn sister, said Caesar.

Nay, one moment brother—Sidonia comes back, but very gently—she holds a large bowl in her hands—I fancy it is milk—There! she gives it to the old woman!—Oh how I love that good Sidonia!

So saying, Pulcheria rose, and Caesar took her place. Sidonia had left the court-yard, and nothing interesting was going forward; but he comprehended which way Thelismar might distinctly see Alphonso from his terrace, notwithstanding the distance by which they were separated.

They spoke of nothing all day, but the telescope and Sidonia. Pulcheria admired the singular man­ner [Page 188] in which she had disovered the benevolent cha­racter of that young lady. She did not suppose, continued Pulcheria, that we could see all that was passing in the court-yard.

Chance, added Madame de Clémire, and an infi­nity of unforeseen circumstances, every day discover actions much more secretly performed. The best way, therefore, is to act as if all the world looked on; for not only does the Almighty see and judge every incident of our lives, but accident, curiosity, the indiscretion of servants, and the treachery of false friends, unceasingly expose to open day our most hidden secrets.