for, while in one respect it was as though she had been cased up in whalebone, it was at the same time as soft and warm as if she had been naked. I then took her in my arms, and carried her into my antechamber again, where I would fain have entered into conversation, but found she and I could make nothing of it together, unless we could understand one another's speech. It is very strange my dream should have prepossessed me so of Patty, and of the alteration of her countenance, that I could by no means persuade myself the person I had with me was not she; though, upon a deliberate comparison, Patty, as pleasing as she always was to my taste, would no more come up to this fair creature, than a coarse ale-wife would to Venus herself. You may imagine we stared heartily at each other, and I doubted not but she wondered as much as I by what means we came so near each other. I offered her everything in my grotto which I thought might please her; some of which she gratefully received, as appeared by her looks and behaviour. But she avoided my lamp, and always placed her back towards it. I, observing that, and ascribing it to her modesty in my company, let her have her will, and took care to set it in such a position myself as seemed agreeable to her, though it deprived me of a prospect I very much. admired. After we had sat a good while, now and then, I may say, chattering to one another, she got up, and took a turn or two about the room. When I saw her in that attitude, her grace and motion perfectly charmed me, and her shape was incomparable; but the strangeness of her dress put me to my trumps, to conceive either what it was, or how it was put on. Well, we supped together, and I set the best of everything I had before her, nor could either of us forbear speaking in our own tongue, though we were sensible neither of us understood the other. After supper I gave her some of my cordials, for which she showed great tokens of thankfulness, and often, in her way, by signs and gestures, which were very far from being insignificant, expressed her gratitude for my kindness. When supper had been some time over, I showed her my bed, and made signs for her to go to it; but she seemed very shy of that, till I showed her where I meant to lie myself, by pointing to myself, then to that, and again pointing to her and to my bed. When, at length, I had this matter intelligible to her, she lay down very composedly; and after I had taken care of my T fire, and set the things I had been using for supper in their places, I laid myself down too; for I could have no suspicious thoughts, or fear of danger, from a form so excellent. I treated her for some time with all the respect imaginable, and never suffered her to do the least part of my work. It was very inconvenient to both of us only to know each other's meaning by signs; but I could not be otherwise than pleased to see that she endeavoured all in her power to learn to talk like me. Indeed, I was not behindhand with her in that respect, striving all I could to imitate her. What I all the while wondered at was, she never showed the least disquiet at her confinement; for I kept my door shut at first, through fear of losing her, thinking she would have taken an opportunity to run away from me; for little did I then think she could fly. WILLIAM BECKFORD. ECKFORD is known in English literature as the author of one book, BE for though there is much graphic description in his "Recollections of an Excursion to the Monasteries of Alcoran and Batalha,” his fame entirely rests upon the remarkable Oriental story, entitled "Vathek." "As an Eastern tale," says Lord Byron, "even Rasselas must bow before it. His 'Happy Valley' will not bear a comparison with the Hall of Eblis,”” and it must be acknowledged to display a powerful imagination, capable of forming the most gorgeous and magnificent conceptions. To our mind some of its scenes surpass in dramatic fire and weird sublimity, anything else in English fiction. Its merits are best understood by a comparison with the melodramatic romances of Horace Walpole, "Monk" Lewis, and Mrs Radcliffe. William Beckford was born in 1759. As the son of Alderman Beckford he came into possession of £100,000 a year, and a million in hard cash. In his eighteenth year his eccentric abilities displayed themselves in his "Memoirs of Extraordinary Painters," a series of imaginary biographies in the shape of a guide-book to the picture gallery at Fonthill. In 1782 he wrote "Vathek." Its composition, he says, "took him three days and two nights of hard labour, and he never took off his clothes the whole time." The idea of "The Hall of Eblis," was suggested by the hall at Fonthill, and the female characters were drawn from the domestics there, their good or evil qualities ideally exaggerated to suit his purpose. In 1787 he made a tour in Spain and Portugal. In 1779 he sat in the British House of Commons as member for Hendon. Soon wearying of a life so tame, he repaired to Cintra in 1794, where he indulged his building propensities in the creation of a fairy paradise, commemorated by Byron in |