impressions on my mind, with those fresh tints that fade from recollection;
and since my pen, accustomed to follow the impulse of my feelings, could
only have drawn, at that fatal period, those images of desolation and
despair which haunted my imagination, and dwelt upon my heart, writing was
forbidden employment. Even reading had its perils; for books had sometimes
aristocratical insignia, and sometimes counter revolutionary allusions; and
when the administrators of police happened to think the writer a
conspirator, they punished the reader as his accomplice.

In this situation I gave myself the task of employing a few hours every day
in translating the charming little novel of Bernardin St. Pierre, entitled
"Paul and Virginia;" and I found the most soothing relief in wandering from
my own gloomy reflections to those enchanting scenes of the Mauritius,
which he has so admirably described. I also composed a few Sonnets adapted
to the peculiar productions of that part of the globe, which are
interspersed in the work. Some, indeed, are lost, as well as a part of the
translation, which I have since supplied, having been sent to the
Municipality of Paris, in order to be examined as English papers; where
they still remain, mingled with revolutionary placards, motions, and
harangues; and are not likely to be restored to my possession.

With respect to the translation, I can only hope to deserve the humble
merit of not having deformed the beauty of the original. I have, indeed,
taken one liberty with my author, which it is fit I should acknowledge,
that of omitting several pages of general observations, which, however
excellent in themselves, would be passed over with impatience by the
English reader, when they interrupt the pathetic narrative. In this
respect, the two nations seem to change characters; and while the serious
and reflecting Englishman requires, in novel writing, as well as on the
theatre, a rapid succession of incidents, much bustle and stage effect,