ties, and, when they arrived at the fringed border, a troop of nymphs, clothed in all the splendors of the rainbow, advanced to welcome Hamet, and chant the glories of their queen. They sung the praises of Fancy, and the happiness of those who live under her enchanting reign. "Here, in this chosen retreat, the pale form of Misery never disturbs the blissful dreams of the happy subjects of the empire of Imagination. Here, free from the inexorable tyranny of dull reality, they sport in flowery regions of every blooming beauty, while round their brows float airy forms of love and rapture. Here the sad soul, sated with sensual joys, or pressed down with a load of worldly cares, will find a refuge, where suffering is divested of its pangs, and joy comes to the soul unclogged with those attendants which, in the real world, turn it into all the bitterness of sorrow. Hither, O mortal! turn thy erring and doubtful steps, for here only wilt thou find that heaven which is fabled in the skies!" Hamet listened to this delusive rhapsody with breathless impatience, and falling at the feet of his conductor, thanked her for having at length brought him to a spot that realized all his anticipations.

Conducted by his charming guide, he wandered about through all the mazes of visionary enchantment, and his senses became bewildered in a tumult of delight. It seemed as if nature had selected this little region from the whole world, to display the charms, the wonders and the powers of her creative hand. The grass was greener and more luxuriant than was ever seen, and was softer than Persian silk. Groves of myrtle, orange and citron, whose branches inter-twined in social harmony, foliaged the landscape, and the birds that sung in these delightful shades, were birds of Paradise, whose plumage and whose song are the delight of the immortals. Beautiful transparent streams meandered, in graceful curves, among the meadows, and with their low murmuring lulled the heart of Hamet, which was tumultuous with admiration, into a feeling of languid felicity, more luxurious than all his former sensations. The air too, possessed a seductive power,

whose balmy influence disposed the mind to reverie, and while it relaxed the body to a state of delicious lassitude, quickened the imagination into the most glowing conceptions. At length, having exhausted himself in wandering and admiring, Hamet laid himself down at the foot of a spreading tree, at whose root ran a little gurgling stream, and fell asleep.

When he awoke, he, for the first time since his abode in the happy island, felt a sensation of hunger; for though the imagination sometimes conquers our reason, it cannot overcome the wants of our nature. The visionary, who wastes his time in the indulgence of idle abstraction, and permits his fancy to transport him whither she pleases, will soon be brought to the sense of suffering reality, by some of those inevitable wants which are the common lot of humanity. Seeing the oranges waving luxuriantly above his head, Hamet stretched out his arm, and essayed to pluck one from its branch, but it eluded his-grasp. He tried another, and a third; but still, as his hand approached, they van-, ished from his view-In wonder and disappointment he contemplated the delusion, and, faint with hunger, laid himself down, to slake his thirst in the stream that murmured at his feet. As he approached his lips towards it, the waters retired, and though its murmurs still continued, the bottom became dry. A dire and horrible apprehension that his senses had been deluded now rushed over his mind, and the prospect of starving in the lap of seeming plenty, struck a cold damp upon his heart. In hopeless distraction he wandered through vocal groves and verdant valleys, in search of something to alleviate his wants; but wherever he came, the fruits eluded his grasp, and the waters vanished under his lips.

At length, faint, weary, and exhausted, he arrived at the spot where he first landed, and, sinking down to the ground, waited, in gloomy and hopeless resignation, the consummation of his fate. As his last hour approached, raising himself with a desperate effort, he beheld afar off the smoke of his native cottage curling above the blue hills, and presenting an image of peace

K

ful tranquillity. The thought of his youthful home, now forever forsaken-of his aged parents, now forever abandoned-of their tenderness in his boyhood, and their sorrow for his loss, came over his soul, and darkened it with gloomy horror.

The wretched being, who is suffering the penalty of his imprudence or his crimes, seldom places it to the charge of his own weakness or wickedness, but rails against the disastrous chance that allured, or the vile tempter that persuaded him to err. So Hamet; he cursed the airy and deceitful being that had seduced him to destruction, and, in the bitterness of unjust crimination, impiously dared to arraign the holy Prophet himself. In the midst of his complaints the figure that guided the little boat again appeared. She was still gay and beautiful, but to the eye of Hamet she seemed a deformed and malignant being. "Hamet," said she, "I, who listened to the complaints of thy erring and querulous spirit, when enjoying on yonder mountain, as high a state of happiness as is consistent with the nature of thy frail being, have heard the wailings of thy misery, and the reproaches of thy despair. Blame not, O wretched mortal! the decrees of the Most High, for thy own discontented spirit was thy ruin-nor load me with reproach, for thou voluntarily deliveredst thyself into my power. Hadst thou not murmured at thy situation, and slighted thy comforts, because thou thoughtest those of others greater, my spells would have had no power, and my influence could not have harmed thee. Know, Hamet, that there is no other happiness in this world than a contented mind, and no misery but a repining and discontented spirit." So saying, she vanished from his view; and when in the evening, the last rays of the setting sun vanished from the high hills of his youth, the spirit and the body of Hamet parted foreve

er.

SURRENDER OF LORD CORNWALLIS.

The writer was present at this ceremony; and certainly no spectacle could be more impressive, than the

one now exhibited. Valiant troops yielding up their arms after fighting in defence of a cause dear to them (because the cause of their country) under a leader, who, throughout the war, in every grade and in every situation to which he had been called, appeared the Hector of his host. Battle after battle had he fought; climate after climate had he endured; towns had yielded to his mandate; posts were abandoned at his approach; armies were conquered by his prowess; one nearly exterminated, another chased from the con⚫ fines of South Carolina beyond the Dan into Virginia, and a third severely chastised in that state on the shores of James river. But here, even he, in the midst of his splendid career found his conqueror.

The road through which they marched was lined with spectators, French and American. On one side the commander in chief, surrounded by his suite and the American staff, took his station; on the other side, opposite to him was the Count de Rochambeau in like manner attended. The captive army approached moving slowly in column with grace and precision. Universal silence was observed amidst the vast concourse, and the utmost decency prevailed: exhibiting. in demeanor ah awful sense of the vicissitudes of hu man life, mingled with commiseration for the unhap py. The head of the column approached the commander in Chief -Gen. O'Hara, who led the British army, mistaking the circle, turned to that on his left, for the purpose of paying his respects to the commander in chief, and requesting further orders, when quickly discovering his error, with much embarrassment in his countenance, he flew across the road, and advancing up to Washington, asked pardon for his mistake, apologized for the absence of Lord Cornwal lis, and begged to know his further pleasure. The General feeling his embarrassment, relieved it by refer ring him with much politeness to General Lincoln for his government Returning to the head of the column, it again moved under the guidance of Lincoln, to the field selected for the conclusion of the ceremony.

Every eye was turned, searching for the British commander in chief, anxious to look at that man, heretofore so much the object of their dread. All were

disappointed. Cornwallis held himself back from the humiliating scene: obeying sensations which his great character ought to have stifled. He had been unfortunate, not from any false step or deficiency of exertion on his part, but from the infatuated policy of his superior, and the united power of his enemy,. brought to bear upon him alone: there was nothing with which he could reproach himself: there was. nothing with which he could reproach his brave and faithful army; why not then appear at its head in the day of misfortune, as he had always done in the day of triumph? The British General in this instance deviated from his usual line of conduct, dimming the splendor of his long and brilliant career.