He talked with great animation, with a loud voice, and much gesticulation. There was much acuteness in what he said;—he asked questions, and then argued upon the answers he received, adhering most obstinately to his own opinions, and not hesitating to give the flattest contradictions.

The conversation turned upon Yenghee Duniah, or America, a subject upon which all Persians are very curious and inquisitive. On this topic, we were surprised to find the prince, as the French would say, ferre a glace. He appeared to have just been reading the history of America. He talked not only with historical but geographical knowledge, which of all other is the rarest amongst Orientals. He told us the distinctions between North and South America with great accuracy, and entered into the details of the history of Mexico in a manner that greatly astonished us.

THE ENGLISH PRESENTS.-From the same.

About the 10th of May, Mahomed Khan, the head of the king's camel artillery, who had been sent to Bushire to superintend the transmission of the military stores and presents which we had brought with us from England and India, arrived at Teheran. He had made levies of men throughout the country, for the purpose of carrying the baggage, which consisted of several carriages, looking-glasses, a grand piano-forte, a large mahogany diningtable, and many other heavy pieces of furniture. As the Persians have no wheeled conveyances, and as the greater part of these articles was too bulky to be loaded on camels, they were carried on the backs of men from Bushire to Teheran, a distance of about 620 miles. It would be impossible to describe the mutilated state in which every thing reached us. One of the modes adopted for lessening the labour of descending the steep mountains between Bushire and Shiraz, was that of fastening some of the cases upon a gun-carriage, and permitting it to run at random down the declivities; by which contrivance most of the carriages were disabled, and of course the thing attached to them totally demolished. Of seventy mirrors, which the ambassador brought into Persia, he received about one-third safe, the rest were entirely demolished.

The carriages which were brought as presents to the king, were not put together until they reached us at Teheran. One that had been built in England on purpose for the king, which was the least damaged, we succeeded to render serviceable, and then the ambassador presented it to his majesty in great form.

It was first necessary to knock down part of the wall of our court-yard to get it into the street, and then it was dragged with considerable difficulty through the narrow streets and bazars to the king's palace, where the ambassador, attended by the grand vizier, and all the principal officers of the state, were in readiness to exhibit it to the king. His majesty walked around the carriage, examined it very minutely, admired its beauty, criticised its contrivances, and then got inside, leaving his shoes at the door, and seating himself with much satisfaction upon the velvet cushions. Mirza Abul Hassan Khan, the late Persian envoy, Feraj Ullah Khan (the chief executioner), some of the secretaries of state, and other personages of rank, all in their court dresses, then fastened themselves to it, and dragged his majesty backwards and forwards to his great delight, which he expressed by some good remarks on the conveniency of carriages, and the ingenuity of Europeans, who had brought them to such perfection. The circumstance that surprised the grand vizier the most, was that it could go backwards as well as forwards. The king kept his seat for more than half an hour, observing that there would be very good sitting-room for two, pointing to the bottom of the carriage as the place for the second. When he had smoked his kaleoon within it, he descended, and made the ambassador a very handsome acknowledgment for so magnificent a present, and ordered the Ameen-ad-Dowlah to purchase six large horses to draw it; however, we learnt shortly after that it was put into a warehouse, where it was bricked up, where it has been ever since, and where it is likely to remain.

THE FATAL CONSEQUENCES OF A SINGLE FAULT.

PREFACE; BY MADAME DE STAEL.

"In a conversation, occasioned by the novel of Delphine, it was remarked, that conjugal affection was a subject no less proper than the more imperious passion of love, to produce interesting situations, and to form the basis of an affecting tragedy. This opinion being warmly contested, the result of the argument was a sort of literary challenge, to which the following tale, unhappily founded in fact, owes its existence."

The foregoing paragraph was written by my father, as an introduction to this little tale, which he then intended to publish in a literary journal. The design was afterwards relinquished. In revising his manuscripts, however, I was stongly impressed with the conviction, that it would be injustice to his memory to withhold from the world what was not only admirable in itself, but singularly interesting as a rare and precious relic of the extraordinary author.

It would ill become me to point out the moral application of any work from the pen of M. Necker; but I must be permitted to observe that the disastrous effects of negligence and inattention to private affairs in “the Fatal Consequences of a Single Fault," are exemplified with a strength and fidelity I have never seen equalled in any other production.

It is usual to find, in novels of a moral cast, perfect characters contrasted with attrocious villains, and gigantic vice opposed to chimerical, if not fantastic excellence. It follows, as a natural consequence, that such writings are wholly useless to the only class of readers to whom they might suggest caution or instruction-namely, to those who, though amiably weak, are not radically depraved, and who are rather their own enemies, than the enemies of virtue. It should ever be the aim of that writer who aspires to the praise of usefulness, to create a salutary terror for those approaches to evil, those indications of feebleness and frailty, by which the amiable may be seduced to the commission of crimes, and the naturally upright heart perverted to falsehood and injustice.

It is only to mixed characters that such lessons can be profitable and instructive. The radically vicious are scarcely to be considered within the pale of humanity, and share so little in the cominon sympathies of nature, that, whatever the admonitions, whatever the examples addressed to them, they must still remain impenetrable to conviction. In their hopes and fears, their language and sentiments, they belong to another order of beings, and are incapable of receiving any impressions which are not enforc ed by positive sufferings and personal experience.

It is almost superfluous to remind the reader, that a dramatic author is not identified with the personages whom he represents, and that his morality is not more to be impugned, when he traces the inevitable consequences of error or frailty, than when he illustrates the efficacy of virtuous principles, and assigns to honourable actions their proper recompense.

In the present state of literature and knowledge in Europe, it is almost ridiculous to recommend ideas generally admitted, or to enforce truisms which cannot be contested. But in France, where the spirit of party, though apparently repressed, continues to vent itself in the narrow track of literature, it is not unnecessary to anticipate and to obviate objections, however trivial or untenable, which might otherwise be made subservient to invidious remark and unwarranted misrepresentation.

It was the fate of Eliza Lesly to become an orphan in the tender years of childhood. But the loss of both parents was well supplied by a maternal aunt, a woman universally respected, who resided in the country, and devoted herself with unremitted asiduity to the education of her adopted. daughter.

Though descended from honourable ancestors, Miss Lesly inherited but a small property, and her slender income was wholly expended in procuring masters for the various accomplishments suited to her sex and station, and in cultivating those superior talents which embellish society and extend the sphere of existence. From nature she had received much that cannot be bestowed by art: and as she approached maturity the external charms of symmetry and elegance were heightened by that indefinable, enchanting mental grace, which, as it implies the posses. sion of taste and delicacy, is often more fascinating than the most perfect beauty. With so many attractions it was impossible not to engage admiration; but the homage which Miss Lesly had been accustomed to receive, she soon learnt to neglect. In the distinctions so flattering to vanity she found nothing to satisfy that susceptible heart which secretly cherished the endearing image of domestic union. She aspired to the privilege of dispensing happiness to some virtuous being worthy of her esteem, her cons fidence, her love; capable of sympathizing in her sentiments and of recompensing her devoted attachment.

Miss Lesly had scarcely attained her twentieth year, when Sir Henry Sommers, a young man just returned from his travels, who, by the demise of his father, had lately come into possession of a title and estate, arrived at his seat in Kent, in the vicinity of the village where the aunt of Miss Lesly resided. The return of the young baronet after a long interval of absence was an event of no small importance to the neighbourhood, and afforded to the curious and the idle ample matter for inquiry and specula

tion.

That such a man must marry was obviously a thing of course: that the object of his choice should be a woman of birth and fortune, appeared equally evident; and many were the matches proposed, and various the ladies chosen as rival candidates for his hand and fortune.

When these rumours reached Miss Lesly, she heard them with perfect indifference: but she had no sooner seen Sir Henry than, for the first time in her life, she sighed to reflect that she was not a woman of fortune. In Henry Sommers the most perfect manly beauty was embellished by ele gant manners and dignified deportment. His calm countenance, his deeptoned voice might, perhaps, have appeared too serious, but for the sensibi lity beaming from his eyes, the expression of benevolence and candour which lighted up his features and dwelt on his accents. It was, indeed, often objected to him, that he had habitually an air of languor and of melancholy; but that very air which, to superficial observers announced a sombre, repulsive character, impressed Eliza with far different feelings from the moment that her heart whispered she was the objcet of his attention, and that to herself she almost ventured to confess she wished to engage his love. She believed that Henry the reserved, the dignified Henry, required the consolations of sympathy, the soothings of female tenderness; and flattered by this persuasion, she began unconsciously, to cherish hopes -to indulge anticipations of happiness. Eliza was not deceived. Sir Henry had at first only paid homage to beauty, when he singled her out at the balls and other places of public resort in the neighbourhood. In addressing him her voice became more touchingly sweet. Henry listened with deeper interest, and Eliza, who could not speak without discovering the elevation or delicacy of her mind, the rectitude of her principles, the propriety of her sentiments, unconsciously completed the enchantment. He no longer doubted that she united those brilliant qualities included in his idea of female perfection, and believed with her it might be possible to realize the most romantic dreams of human felicity. The more he reflected on her moral qualities, the more did judgment concur with inclination to ratify his choice; and in surrendering himself to love, he appeared less to follow the impulse of passion, than to obey the dictates of duty. With the high spirited generosity of a romantic character, he found in the smallness of Miss Lesly's fortune an additional cause for satisfaction, he exulted in the idea that it was his privilege to raise her to that station which she was formed to adorn, and that in bestowing her hand, she would receive from him all those adventitious advantages of wealth and distinction without which even beauty is neglected, and virtue unhonoured by the mercenary world.

Henry loved too truly to be presuming, and when he at length ventured to disclose his sentiments in a letter expressing his hopes and his wishes,