Clara has not written, for nothing has hitherto had power to rouse her from the lethargy into which she had sunk. Perhaps the scenes of gaiety in which she is now going to engage may dispell the gloom which threatened to destroy all the energy of her charming mind. Perhaps too these scenes may be more fatal to her peace than the gloom of which I complain, for in this miserable world we know not what to desire. The accomplishment of our wishes is often a real misfortune. We pass our lives in searching after happiness, and how many die without having found it! _In Continuation._ Well my dear friend the ball is over--that ball of which I promised you a description. But who can describe the heat or suffocating sensations felt in a crowd? The General has an agreeable face, a sweet mouth, and most enchanting smile; but "Like the sun, he shone on all alike," and paid no particular attention to any object. His uniform was _a la hussar_, and very brilliant; he wore red boots:--but his person is bad, he is too short; a Bacchus-like figure, which accords neither with my idea of a great General nor a great man. But you know one of my faults is to create objects in my imagination on the model of my incomparable friend, and then to dislike every thing I meet because it falls short of my expectations. I was disappointed at the ball, because I was confounded in the crowd, but my disappointment was trifling compared with that felt by Clara. Accustomed to admiration she expected to receive it on this occasion in no moderate portion, and to find herself undistinguished was not flattering. She did not dance, staid only an hour, and has declared against all balls in future. But there is one announced by the Admiral which may perhaps induce her to change her resolution. Madame Le Clerc has sailed for France with the body of her husband, which was embalmed here. The place is tranquil. The arrival of General Rochambeau seems to have spread terror among the negroes. I wish they were reduced to order that I might see the so much vaunted habitations where I should repose beneath the shade of orange groves; walk on carpets of rose leaves and frenchipone; be fanned to sleep by silent slaves, or have my feet tickled into extacy by the soft hand of a female attendant. Such were the pleasures of the Creole ladies whose time was divided between the bath, the table, the toilette and the lover. What a delightful existence! thus to pass away life in the arms of voluptuous indolence; to wander over flowery fields of unfading verdure, or through forests of majestic palm-trees, sit by a fountain bursting from a savage rock frequented only by the cooing dove, and indulge in these enchanting solitudes all the reveries of an exalted imagination.