and her feet bound with unusual agility. But, how great her surprise, when, instead of eyes sparkling with pleasure, and cheeks glowing with expectation, she beheld in the polished crystal a monster of ugliness. Shocked at the unexpected sight, she gazed at her altered image. She gazed and was astonished. Abdaric instantaneously darted into her mind. She found, on a retrospect of her conduct, that she had encouraged the addresses of Hamed, not out of regard for himself, not out of obedience to her father, not from a desire to be happily married; but to hear the sighs of fondness, to have her ears regaled with the soothing strains of eulogy, to be admired and praised, to be flattered and adored. Her conscience smote her. She repented, and, at the same time, determined to receive Hamed with more affability, and to listen to him with more attention; to deserve his love, and to merit his esteem. These resolves had, in some measure, the wished-for effect. She saw with ecstasy her face, by degrees recover its accustomed bloom; but its bloom, alas! was recovered too late; for Hamed had, during the eclipse of it, placed his affections on Zelis, the daughter of Nouradin, and friend of Zulima.

Zelis, though not so striking a beauty as Zu

lima, was not less engaging. Zulima shone like the sun in its meridian splendor; Zelis, like the sky, tinged with its rising and departing rays. The first resembled a large edifice, full of lofty apartments, decorated with the most costly ornaments, and blazing with the united lustre of gems and gold. The last might be compared to a small plain building, executed with the utmost elegance, and adorned with the utmost simplicity. Zulima was more admired than Zelis, but Zelis was more beloved than Zulima.

Zelis had an expressiveness in her countenance, which was, like the magnet, irresistibly attracting. She was modest, gentle, affable, and unconscious of her perfections. These amiable qualities soon bound the heart of Hamed in adamantine chains. He was pleased with her person, but enraptured with her mind, and had soon the satisfaction to find that Zelis viewed him with equal delight, loved him with equal ardour, and esteemed him with equal sincerity. The news of their intended union flew, with the swiftness of lightning, to the house of Abukazan. Zulima felt a disorder she had never known before at the receipt of this intelligence. To think that she had lost her lover was perturbation, but to think that Zelis was in possession of him, distraction. Many hours she spent in contriving

methods to recall her lover, and at last fixed on a design which she executed immediately with an assurance of success. She prevailed on Cadige, an old nurse who had attended her from her infancy, to make herself serviceable to Zelis. Zelis was pleased with her assiduity, and told Zulima she was very happy in possessing so useful a slave. Zulima, who beheld Zelis with the eyes of a lion when a tender kid lies bleeding at his feet, was so delighted to find she was fallen into the toils which were spread for her, that she entreated her to keep Cadige for her own use; telling her, with an air of pleasantry, that she had won her affections, and adding that she could not therefore offer her with so much propriety to any other person. Cadige, in a short time, took advantage of the confidence Zelis placed in her, and endeavoured to make her contemptible in the eyes of Hamed, by throwing a veil over her virtues, and to weaken his attachment to her, by insinuating, with an anxious concern for his happiness, that the woman he had chosen from the rest of her sex, was, of all her sex, the most unworthy of his esteem. While Cadige was thus employed, and while Zelis reflected on the coldness of her lover with tears and with complainings, Zulima was full of gloomy doubts, and alarming fears. The

cause of her first deviation from rectitude, by attempting to lessen Hamed's affection for Zelis, gave her many uneasy throbs; but these were agreeable sensations, compared to the piercing pangs she felt when she reflected on the immorality of her actions. Conscious of the mischiefs she was perpetrating, she was pre-eminently wretched. Her mind was agitated like the sand of the desert by a whirlwind: revenge engrossed her thoughts, banished every other idea, and eradicated every other passion; she vowed to pursue Zelis to destruction, because her importance was lessened by the desertion of Hamed, though she abhorred, at the same time, the turpitude of her intentions. She forgot to survey herself in the talisman of truth, and Abdaric was no longer remembered by her. One evening, while she was in this torturing situa tion, Cadige informed her, that by perpetually filling the ears of Hamed with the ill-health, illnature, and ill-behaviour of Zelis, she had almost persuaded him to abandon her; and that the anguish of disappointment had greatly diminished the lustre of her charms. Zulima heard the news with alacrity, and, flushed with the hopes of triumphing over a formidable rival, began to deck herself with new ornaments. All the vivid colours of the rainbow glowed on her

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silky vestments. But her joy was of short duration; for on casting her eye accidentally on the talisman, she sunk down upon her sofa without motion and without sense. While the slave flew to procure a resuscitating medicine, the earth opened, and Abdaric appeared. Zulima heard the rustling of his beard, which sounded like the roaring of a cataract, and awaked; but was awe-struck, and endeavoured to screen herself from his penetrating looks with her veil. But that stratagem was a vain one, for, with a touch of his wand, it fell to the ground. She reddened with shame, and was abashed. When thus the genius-"Thou canst not conceal thyself, O daughter of the dust, from an all-seeing eye. Thou hast made use of the most criminal methods, to render thyself an object of horror. I am now come, not to entice thee to act right, but to condemn thee for having acted wrong. Thy crimes are of so black a dye, they cannot be punished with too much rigour. I warned thee of thy danger, when thou stoodst tottering on the brink of a precipice-why didst thou not follow my counsel ?-Know, inconsiderate Zulima, that a beautiful woman, without innocence and virtue, is like an almond-tree in winter, stripped of its foliage and its fruit."

When he had uttered these words, he struck