The very peculiar circumstances under which the Author professes to obtrude the present volume upon public notice, appear to require some explanation, were it only to obviate suspicions which might arise, that the general detail of circumstances which it comprises, has been the production of an active imagination, rather than a relation of the occurrences of real life; for he is fully aware, that such a construction might be put upon the apparent anomaly of the travels of one, whose loss of sight, a source of information naturally considered indispensable in such an undertaking, must greatly limit his power of acquiring the legitimate materials, necessary to give his work body and consistency. On this account, it may not be superfluous, to enter upon a brief history of his misfortune, as introductory to an explanation of the motives which have influenced him in bringing forward the present publication. Destined to the naval service of his country, his exclusive attention, for some years, was devoted to the attainment of that professional knowledge, which he hoped might lead to honourable distinction; how far these views were likely to have been crowned with success, it will now be useless to state; it is sufficient to say, that at the age of twenty-five, while in the very bloom of expectation, his prospects were irrecoverably blighted by the effects of an illness, resulting from his professional duties, and which left him deprived of all the advantages of “heavens prime decree,”—wholly—and, he fears, permanently blind. “Total eclipse! nor sun; nor moon; All dark amidst the blaze of noon.” After the distressing feelings which accompanied the first shock of this bodily privation, had in some measure subsided, the active mind began to seek occupation and amusement, amongst the many resources which a beneficent Providence had still left uncurtailed. These he has happily found, not only abundant, but apparently inexhaustible; and the lapse of ten years, has not merely softened down the sense of misfortune, but even reconciled him to an affliction, which some view as the severest that can befal humanity. “⸺though sight be lost, Life yet hath many solaces, enjoyed Where other senses want not their delights.” Amongst the various pursuits which have served to cheer, and sooth him throughout this protracted day of darkness, the book of nature has been largely opened to his mental view; nor has he failed to cultivate the pleasing fields of literature; and he may exclaim with our admired poet, when he so pathetically bewails the loss of this most precious organ: “So thick a drop serene hath quenched their orbs, Or dim suffusion veiled; yet not the more Cease I to wander where the Muses haunt Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill.”