cause it furnished him with opportunities to preserve the Sultan's favour; though it was to that favour alone that he was indebted for his place, and that he could expect to preserve it. In short, he was the minister of Guzurat not of its Sultan. He was one of those men who inflamed with enthusiastic admiration, of the good and fair are capable of undertaking, and executing plans whose accomplishment seems to require the life of an antediluvian. His heart was the most tender, his sympathy the most warm, his courage the most undaunted, his activity the most indefatigable: he wished ardently what was right, and he no sooner perceived that good might be done, than he hastened to do it. And although he often found that he had earned curses where he had sowed blessings with the greatest labour and care, yet he was not to be driven from his glorious career by difficulties or disappointments. The consciousness of his good intentions consoled him, and the Sultan of Guzurat did him justice, even when both the court and country murmured. This Sultan (his name was Ibrahim) was in truth a good kind of man, his greatest fault was that he was totally dependent on those who possessed his confidence. His heart was warm and susceptible-his imagination was easily inflamed, and he was possessed with a most inordinate desire to obtain renown. The enlarged and glorious plans of his Vizir dazzled and enchanted him; and there were moments, when in the warmth of his enthusiasm for virtue, he would have obeyed Amorassan: even had he been advised by him to exchange his throne for the cell of a dervise. The love of virtue, the abhorrence of vice, the sacrifice of self, philanthropy to wish, resolution to decide, and vigour to execute; all these were communicated to him by Amorassan: but that which alone could give duration to these qualities he did not possess from nature, and Amorassan could not impart it: the Sultan had no firmness of character.

Among the courtiers by whom the throne was surrounded, Ebu-Beker, the son of the late Chief-Cadi, was numbered. Although the Sultan neither loved nor esteemedhim, yet his society was agreeable to him. He professed on all occasions the most profound admiration of the Sultan, and by throwing himself into the shade, contrived to make his master's merits shine with the greater lustre. This conduct was highly agreeable to the person whom it was designed to please. In Amorassan's company Ibrahim felt conscious he was inferior to his minister. In Ebu-Beker's, he was exalted in his own opinion, and he felt grateful to the author of this agree able sensation. Amorassan grieved to see his master subject to the unworthy influence of his rival, and although Ibrahim's attachment had suffered no diminution as yet, still he now and then put a negative upon the benevolent plans the former was continually suggesting. The brow of the minister at length became clouded with vexation and discontent, and the Sultan was surprised to find that Amorassan was become a less pleasing companion, and the society of Ebu-Beker gained considerably by the comparison. The discontent of Amorassan was still further increased by discovering the worthlessness of several of those persons to whom he had confided the execution of his plans. He found himself betrayed, deceived, disappointed, and disgusted: misanthropy began to steal insensibly into his bosom, and it was in this dangerous temper of mind that an Egyptian was brought before him, many mysterious circumstances respecting whom had caused him to be suspected of sorcery.

The Egyptian easily read in the mi nister's eye an inclination to become better acquainted with his scientific secrets. They had many midnight conversations together, and no sooner did the necromancer hint at certain caba listical words, whose power could give the speaker absolute authority ove spirits of a higher sphere, than thi

thought flashed like lightning across his hearer's brain-" To become the lord of such a being, is the only certain means of enabling me to execute my great and glorious plans. Could I but once see clearly into the hearts of men I should then be certain of success in my designs, and could guard against deception. To be proof against the illusions of others, is not enough; I must also be guarded against those of my own heart. The being, whom I need must not only warn me against the hypocrisy of my fellows, but against the deceitful enthusiasm of love, of friendship, and even of mistaken virtues. I must read the human soul, to see before hand the consequences of my own actions, and those of others, and to remove from my senses all those deceitful clouds with which sympathy, imagination, and the passions obscure the sight of men, and misguide their footsteps." Inflamed with these ideas, he immediately became the scholar of the Egyptian; and at length his mysterious education being completed, he was possessed of the important words which enabled him to summon to his aid an immortal spirit. The Egyptian's labour was rewarded with life and liberty, and Amorassan now lost no time in commencing his magical operations.

Amorassan's whole frame trembled with impatience, while he pronounced the powerful charm. He stood in the most retired apartment of his palace; the light was carefully excluded except what proceeded from a golden chafing dish that stood before him, and in which at intervals be burned perfumes and various other ingredients of necromantic efficacy. The spell was complete. Thrice had he pronounced the mighty words in the awful name of Solomon, the powerful and the wise; and now a thick grey cloud slowly descending into the room, hovered awhile over the chafing dish, and then spread itself through the whole apartment. Gradually it dispersed; and now Amorassan

beheld a female figure, the faultless perfection of whose form and features sufficiently assured him she was no terrestial being. Her robes were of the purest white; and her veil, which was thrown backward, and fell to her very feet, was fastened upon her brow by a garland of white roses; but the mildew had sullied every leaf, and in every flower there lurked a canker. Her forehead was smooth, and fair as polished ivory. Her eyes darker than jet or ebony, were large and bright, but their lustre resembled the shining of chrystal rather than the sparkling of diamonds: no fire emanated from their orbs to light up her countenance, and she always bent them straight before her with a fixed and steady gaze. Her eye-brows were formed in the softest and most regular curve. Her full bosom betrayed not the gentle rise and fall of respiration, much less did it seem to have been ever agitated by the tempest of the furious passions: the breath of life was not perceived to impart its warmth to her lips, as red and as cold as coral; much less had they ever burned with the fiery blast of desire! never had either joy or sorrow drawn a wrinkle round that lovely mouth; and her smooth blooming cheeks were equally unconscious of the tears of pain and the smiles of pleasure. Every feature was modelled in the most exquisite and harmonious proportions; never did the poet's dream present an image of such faultless beauty, as that which now stood before Amorassan : ideal perfection was here embodied; but yet the whole appeared so cold, so indifferent, so insensible, that though the first glance was that of admiration, the second was accompanied by a sensation of uneasiness and anxiety indescribably disagreeable and painful. In vain did Amorassan gaze upon those celestial features; in her whole face could he not discover the slightest trace of character, not even the most distant shadow of expression, which could point out the way to the heart,

or give a clue to the sentiments of its possessor.

With her hands folded upon her bosom the Spirit stood fixed before Amorassan silent and motionless. Equally overpowered by her exalted nature, by her surprising loveliness, by the dignity of her demeanour, and by the killing coldness of her look, he sought in vain in her countenance for something of that expression, which encourages us to address a person still unknown. At length he said, in a subdued voice, while he felt his respiration so opprest, that he could only pronounce his words with difficultyAnswer! What art thou ?"-"She whom you summoned, and whom you need; a spirit from the islands of chillness and gloom. Does not my countenance tell you, that I am in the right?" "I know not yet," replied Amorassan; "I can only feel at present, that the sight of you congeals the blood in my veins. You are beautiful as the light of day; yet deformity would be less painful to me, for that at least must possess some expression." "That want of expression proves, that I am the very spirit, whom you need, But if you like me not, being such as I am and must remain, dismiss me. To me it matters not where I am, whether here or elsewhere; whether I bask in the warm sun-beams, or bathe in the cold damp vapours of the islands of chillness and gloom; for to me the sun-beams are not warm, nor the damp vapours cold. I will serve you, if you command it; I will leave you, if you permit me, and either way shall be equally well pleased." Tell me, thou frosty being," asked Amorassan, know'st thou the word virtue ?"

"I

have sometimes heard it mentioned, but it is no concern of mine." "No? And vice then-— ?” "Oh! that I have heard mentioned much oftener: but that is no concern of mine either. I used to hear much about such things, when I lived in the court of Solomon the wise as he was called. I was his

slave, and in his latter years his constant companion. It was in my society that he learned that every thing on earth is vanity." "What?" said Amorassan, "even what he had done for his own pleasure and advantage ?" "Even that," replied the Spirit; "and as soon as this last point was ascertained, he dismissed me. Since that time, I have inhabited the islands of chillness and gloom, which exist in the frozen ocean." "From so melancholy an abode, you must needs be pleased at your present deliverance," said Amorassan.Amorassan. Melancholy?" replied the Spirit. the Spirit." What is melancholy? Nothing pleases, or displeases me." "Feelest thou neither liking, nor disliking? neither love nor aversion?" "Of all this I know nothing; and therefore am I the very Spirit whom you need."-" Then it is a matter of indifference to you how I employ you; and you will execute evil as cheerfully as good, good with as little remorse as evil "Good? Evil? All this is your affair, not mine."-"Unfeeling spirit! You grieve my very heart."— "May be so; but the grief of your heart is no concern of mine. Why at that declaration is your countenance so suddenly overcast? What strange things are mortals! Now that you have found in me the Spirit you desired, you recoil with horror at the fulfilment of your own wish. Ah! I see, that the sons of earth are not changed since Solomon's time."-" And what then is man in your opinion?" asked Amorassan." He is not that, which he fain would be; and were he every thing he wishes to be to-day, he would wish to-morrow to be that again, which he was yesterday. Now then inform me in your turn, why am I summoned hither?"-" I wish to make the people of Guzurat contented and happy. "And what then is thy station? “I am Guzurat's Grand Vizir, and its Sultan's favourite."-" Oh! wise and powerful Solomon! then at least one of thy sayings is false."—" And which

Some hours elapsed, before Amorassan recovered from the effect produced upon him by the Spirit's freezing demeanour. But with the return of day, all his glorious visions for the happiness of mankind resumed their influence over his mind with renewed vigour; and he rejoiced in the prospect of being now able to carry them into execution without fear of further disappointments.

The governor of the frontier-province of Burglana was deceased, and it was necessary to consult the Sultan respecting the disposal of this important place. Ibrahim had slept well, was in high spirits, and received his Vizir with a smile of good will, that touched him to the very heart. That it had produced this effect was evident, and the consciousness of having afforded satisfaction, increased the Sultan's. He welcomed Amorassan in the most engaging manner, and marked by his reception, that he considered him as the companion of his youth, as the friend of his selection, as the favourite of his heart, and the partner of his most secret thoughts. With every moment their discourse became warm and more confidential; and as their intercourse had rather languished for the last few months, this unexpected renewal of affection was doubly grateful to the sympathizing heart of Amorassan.

That heart now lay expanded before the Sultan's eyes; the Vizir laid open his distant glorious plans for the prosperity of Guzurat; his eyes floated in dews of rapture, while he dwelt upon them, and the spirit of inspiration seemed to flutter round his lips.

Ibrahim entered into all his feelings, approved of all his plans, echoed back all his wishes. Amorassan's soul overflowed with gratitude, and his satisfaction seemed to be complete, when his sovereign, taking his hand, and fixing his eyes on his face with a smile of

benevolence, informed him, that he too had a plan to propose, and a wish to be complied with. Already did the assurance of his ready and unconstrained consent float upon the lips of the delighted Amorassan; when suddenly in the further part of the saloon he perceived the Spirit, with all her calmness, coldness, and oppressive gravity. Her right hand pointed to the Sultan with a warning gesture; the fore-finger of the left was placed against her lip, as if enjoining silence.

The colour instantly fled from Amorassan's cheeks; he gazed stedfastly upon the vision; the fire of enthusiasm was extinguished in his eyes, and the assurance, which he had already unclosed his lips to give, dissolved into unintelligible murmurs.

Ibrahim drew his hand away; he gazed upon his Vizir in astonishment; and the cold constraint of Amorassan's manner produced a corresponding change in his own. After a pause, he said with an embarrassed air" Perhaps you already guess what I am going to propose. Perhaps you are unwilling to comply with my wish in this respect."

"No," replied Amorassan, "I have not the most distant suspicion of your plan. Nor can I feel unwilling to comply with any wish of yours whose wishes are commands." "Ah!" said the Sultan, "when I mentioned to you that I had a wish, it was not the master who spoke to his servant, but Ibrahim to Amorassan! True, I command when I address my Vizir; but when I converse with my friend, I can but wish, and am only happy in the completion of my wish, if it meet with my friend's approbation."" Then name your wish! Surely you need not now to be assured that Amorassan would think your satisfaction cheaply bought by the sacrifice of his existence !”. "Some other time when you are again in the same disposition-when your manner is the same-when your heart is as harmoniously attuned to mine, as