rays of the sun. If we would obtain them, we
must search and labour in the dark mine.--Will your highness be pleased
to hear the manuscript which had been translated by the Greek slave?"

"Be it so," replied the pacha, not in the very best of humours.

The Greek made his appearance and made his salutation, and then read as
follows:--

MANUSCRIPT OF THE MONK.

Recording the Discovery of the Island of Madeira.

Before I am summoned to that offended tribunal, to propitiate which I
have passed so many years in penitence and prayer, let me record for the
benefit of others the history of one, who, yielding to fatal passion,
embittered the remainder of his own days, and shortened those of the
adored partner of his guilt. Let my confession be public, that warning
may be taken from my example; and may the sincerity with which I
acknowledge my offence, and the tears which I have shed, efface it from
the accumulated records of the willfulness and disobedience of man!

In a few days this attenuated frame will be mingled with the dust from
which it sprung, and scattered by the winds of heaven, or by the labour
of future generations, as chance may dictate, will yield sustenance to
the thistle which wars against the fertility of nature, or the grain
which is the support of our existence,--to the nightshade with its
deadly fruit, or the creeping violet with its sweet perfume. The heart
which has throbbed so tumultuously with the extreme of love, and which
has been riven with the excess of woe, will shortly pant no more. The
mind which has been borne down by the irresistible force of passion,--
which has attempted to stem the torrent, but in vain, and, since the
rage of it has passed away, has been left like the once fertile valley
which has been overflown, a waste of barrenness and desolation,--will
shortly cease from its wearied action. In a few brief days I must
appear in the presence of an offended, yet merciful Saviour, who,
offering every timing, weeps at the insanity of our rejection. Let then
the confessions of Henrique serve as a beacon to those who are inclined
to yield to the first impulse; when, alarmed at the discovery of their
errors, they will find that conviction has arrived too late, and that,
like me, they will be irresistibly impelled against the struggles of
reason and of conscience.

I am an Englishman by birth: my parents were called away before I was
five years old; yet still I have a dreaming memory