If they can only get on shore for a few hours, they
hire or borrow horses, and proceed with all haste to the interesting
scene. On reaching the spot to which they are directed, they enter a
pretty garden, laid out with great care, and are conducted along a
walk bordered with bushes, bearing a profusion of roses, and having a
stream of the clearest water flowing on each side. At the end of this
walk the visiter sees a red, glaring monument, which he is told is the
tomb of Virginia; at the termination of a similar avenue, on
the opposite side of the garden, appears another monument, exactly
resembling the first, which is designated the tomb of Paul: a grove of
bamboos surrounds each. The traveller feels disappointed on beholding
these red masses, instead of elegant monuments of Parian marble, which
would seem alone worthy of such a purpose and such a situation. But
that is not the only disappointment destined to be experienced by him:
after having allowed his imagination to depict the shades of Paul and
Virginia hovering about the spot where their remains repose--after
having pleased himself with the idea that he had seen those celebrated
tombs, and given a sigh to the memory of those faithful lovers,
separated in life, but in death united--after all this waste of
sympathy, he learns at last that he has been under a delusion the
whole time--that no Virginia was there interred, and that it is a
matter of doubt whether there ever existed such a person as Paul! What
a pleasing illusion is then dispelled! How many romantic dreams,
inspired by the perusal of St.
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