e church of the Shaddock Grove, nor any other object which could recall
to Paul the remembrance of Virginia. Even the mountains, which appear of
various shapes on the side of Port Louis, present nothing to the eye from
those plains but a long promontory, stretching itself in a straight and
perpendicular line, from whence arise lofty pyramids of rocks, on the
summits of which the clouds repose.

"To those scenes I conducted Paul, and kept him continually in action,
walking with him in rain and sunshine, night and day, and contriving that
he should lose himself in the depths of forests, leading him over untilled
grounds, and endeavouring, by violent fatigue, to divert his mind from its
gloomy meditations, and change the course of his reflections, by his
ignorance of the paths where we wandered. But the soul of a lover finds
everywhere the traces of the object beloved. The night and the day, the
calm of solitude, and the tumult of crowds, time itself, while it casts the
shade of oblivion over so many other remembrances, in vain would tear that
tender and sacred recollection from the heart, which, like the needle, when
touched by the loadstone, however it may have been forced into agitation,
it is no sooner left to repose, than it turns to the pole by which it is
attracted. When I inquired of Paul, while we wandered amidst the plains of
Williams, 'Where are we now going?' he pointed to the north and said,
'Yonder are our mountains; let us return.'

"Upon the whole, I found that every means I took to divert his melancholy
was fruitless, and that no resource was left but an attempt to combat his
passion by the arguments which reason suggested. I answered him, 'Yes,
there are the mountains where once dwelt your beloved Virginia; and this is
the picture you gave her, and which she held, when dying, to her heart;
that heart, which even in her last moments only beat for you.' I then gave
Paul the little picture which he had given Virginia at the borders of the
cocoa tree fountain. At this sight a gloomy joy overspread his looks. He
eagerly seized the picture with his feeble hands, and held it to his lips.
His oppressed bosom seemed ready to burst with emotion, and his eyes were
filled with tears which had no power to flow.

"'My son,' said I, 'listen to him who is your friend, who was the friend of
Virginia, and who, in the bloom of your hopes, endeavoured to fortify your
mind against the unforeseen accidents of life. What do you