sçavoir vivre, was by seeing a great deal both of men and manners; it taught us mutual toleration; and mutual toleration, concluded he, making me a bow, taught us mutual love. The old French officer delivered this with an

the thing told itself; so, thrusting back the German instantly with his musket, he took the poor dwarf by the hand, and placed him before him. . . . This is noble! said I, clapping my hands together. . . . And yet you would not permit this, said the old officer, in England.

In England, dear sir, said I, we sit all

at our ease.

The old French officer would have set me at unity with myself, in case I had been at variance, by saying it was a bon mot;-and, as a bon mot is always worth something in Paris, he offered me a pinch of snuff.

THE ROSE

PARIS.

Ir was now my turn to ask the old French officer, 'What was the matter?' for a cry of 'Haussez les mains, Monsieur l'Abbé,' re-echoed from a dozen different parts of the parterre, was as unintelligible to me as my apostrophe to the monk had been to him.

He told me it was some poor Abbé in one of the upper loges, who he supposed had got planted perdu behind a couple of grisettes in order to see the opera, and that the parterre, espying him, were insisting upon his holding up both his hands during the representation. . And can it be supposed, said I, that an ecclesiastic would pick the grisettes' pockets?-The old French officer smiled, and, whispering in my ear, opened a door of knowledge which I had no idea of.

...

The French officer told me it was an illiberal sarcasm at the church, which had begun in the theatre about the time the Tartuffe was given in it, by Moliere,-but, like other remains of Gothic manners, was declining. Every nation, continued he, have their refinements and grossiertés, in which they take the lead and lose it of one another by turns ;that he had been in most countries, but never in one where he found some delicacies, which others seemed to want. Le pour et le contre se trouvent en chaque nation; there is a balance, said he, of good and bad everywhere; and nothing but knowing it is so can emancipate one half of the world from the prepossession which it holds against the other:-that the advantage of travel, as it regarded the

with my first favourable impressions of his character :-I thought I loved the man; but I fear I mistook the object :-'twas my own way of thinking,-the difference was, I could not have expressed it half so well.

It is alike troublesome to both the rider and his beast-if the latter goes pricking up his ears, and starting all the way at every object which he never saw before.-I have as little torment of this kind as any creature alive; and yet I honestly confess that many a thing gave me pain, and that I blushed at many a word the first month, which I found inconsequent and perfectly innocent the second.

Madame de Rambouliet, after an acquaintance of about six weeks with her, had done me the honour to take me in her coach about two leagues out of town.-Of all women, Madame de Rambouliet is the most correct ;-and I never wish to see one of more virtues and purity of heart.-In our return back, Madame de Rambouliet desired me to pull the cord-I asked her if she wanted anything?-Rein que pour pisser, said Madame de Rambouliet.

Grieve not, gentle traveller, to let Madame de Rambouliet p-ss on.-And, ye fair mystic nymphs, go each one pluck your rose, and scatter them in your path,-for Madame de Rambouliet did no more.-I handed Madame de Rambouliet out of the coach; and had I been the priest of the chaste Castalia, I could not have served at her fountain with a more respectful decorum.

THE FILLE DE CHAMBRE.

PARIS.

WHAT the old French officer had delivered upon travelling, bringing Polonius' advice to his son upon the same subject into my head,

and that bringing in Hamlet,-and Hamlet the rest of Shakespeare's Works, I stopt at the Quai de Conti, in my return home, to purchase the whole set.

The bookseller said he had not a set in the world. . . . Comment! said I, taking one up out of a set which lay upon the counter betwixt us. . . . He said, they were sent him only to be got bound; and were to be sent back to Versailles in the morning to the Count de B****.

...

.. And does the Count de B****, said I, read Shakespeare? . . . C'est un espirt fort, replied the bookseller.-He loves English books; and, what is more to his honour, monsieur, he loves the English too. . . . You speak this so civilly, said I, that it is enough to oblige an

one,

...

The young girl listened with a submissive attention, holding her satin purse by its riband in her hand all the time.- -'Tis a very small said I, taking hold of the bottom of it(she held it towards me)-and there is very little in it, my dear, said I;-but be but as good as thou art handsome, and Heaven will fill it. I had a parcel of crowns in my hand to pay for Shakespeare; and, as she had let go the purse entirely, I put a single one in; and, tying up the riband in a bow-knot, returned it to her. The young girl made me more a humble curtsey than a low one-'twas one of those quiet, thankful sinkings, where the spirit bows itself down, the body does no more than tell it. I never gave a girl a crown in my life which gave me half the pleasure.

My advice, my dear, would not have been worth a pin to you, said I, if I had not given this along with it: but now, when you see the crown, you'll remember it ;-so don't, my dear, lay it out in ribands.

Upon my word, sir, said the girl, earnestly, I am incapable; in saying which, as is usual in little bargains of honour, she gave me her hand :-En verité, monsieur, je mettrai cet argent apart, said she.

When a virtuous convention is made betwixt man and woman, it sanctifies their most private walks; so, notwithstanding it was dusky, yet as both our roads lay the same way, we made 10 scruple of walking along the Quai de Conti together.

She made me a second curtsey in setting off; and, before we got twenty yards from the door, as if she had not done enough before, she made a sort of a little stop, to tell me again-she thanked me.

-It was a small tribute, I told her, which

I could not avoid paying to virtue, and would not be mistaken in the person had been rendering it to for the world; but I see innocence, my dear, in your face, and foul befall the man who ever lays a snare in its way!

The girl seemed affected, some way or other, with what I said:-she gave a low sigh:-I found I was not empowered to inquire at all after it,— so said nothing more till I got to the corner of the Rue de Nevers, where we were to part.

...

-But is this the way, my dear, said I, to the Hotel de Modene? . . . She told me it was, or that I might go by the Rue de Gueneguault, which was the next turn. . . . Then I'll go, my dear, by the Rue de Gueneguault, said I, for two reasons: first, I shall please myself; and next, I shall give you the protec tion of my company as far on your way as I can. -The girl was sensible I was civil,--and said she wished the Hotel de Modene was in the Rue de St. Pierre. . . . You live there? said I. . . . She told me she was fille de chambre to Madame R****. . . . Good God! said I, 'tis the very lady for whom I have brought a letter from Amiens. . . . The girl told me that Madame R****, she believed, expected a stranger with a letter, and was impatient to see him. . . . So I desired the girl to present my compliments to Madame R****, and say I would certainly wait upon her in the morning.

...

We stood still at the corner of the Rue de Nevers whilst this passed.-We then stopped a moment whilst she disposed of her Egarements du Cœur, etc., more commodiously than carrying them in her hand:-they were two volumes; so I held the second for her whilst she put the first into her pocket ;-and then she held her pocket, and I put in the other after it.

"Tis sweet to feel by what fine-spun threads our affections are drawn together.

We set off afresh ;-and as she took her third step, the girl put her hand within my arm.I was just bidding her,—but she did it of herself, with that undeliberating simplicity which showed it was out of her head that she had never seen me before. For my own part, I felt the conviction of consanguinity so strongly that I could not help turning half round to look in her face, and see if I could trace out anything in it of a family likeness.-Tut! said I, are we not all relations?

When we arrived at the turning up of the Rue de Gueneguault, I stopped to bid her adien for good and all: the girl would thank me again for my company and kindness.-She bid me adieu twice ;-I repeated it as often; and so cordial was the parting between us that, had it happened anywhere else, I'm not sure but I should have signed it with a kiss of charity, as warm and holy as an apostle.

But in Paris, as none kiss each other but the men,-I did what amounted to the same thing,I bid God bless her!

THE PASSPORT.

PARIS.

WHEN I got home to my hotel, La Fleur told me I had been inquired after by the Lieutenant de Police. . . . The deuce take it, said I,-I know the reason. It is time the reader should know it; for, in the order of things in which it happened, it was omitted; not that it was out of my head, but that, had I told it then, it might have been forgot now-and now is the time I want it. I had left London with so much precipitation that it never entered my mind that we were at war with France; and had reached Dover, and looked through my glass at the hills beyond Boulogne, before the idea presented itself; and with this in its train, that there was no getting there without a passport. Go but to the end of a street, I have a mortal aversion for returning back no wiser than I set out; and as this was one of the greatest efforts I had ever made for knowledge, I could less bear the thoughts of it; so hearing the Count de **** had hired the packet, I begged he would take me in his suite. The Count had some little knowledge of me, so made little or no difficulty,-only said his inclination to serve me could reach no farther than Calais, as he was to return by way of Brussels to Paris; however, when I had once passed there, I might get to Paris without interruption, but that in Paris I must make friends and shift for myself.

Let me get to Paris, Monsieur le Count, said I,—and I shall do very well. So I embarked, and never thought more of the matter.

When La Fleur told me the Lieutenant de Police had been inquiring after me, the thing instantly recurred;-and, by the time La Fleur had well told me, the master of the hotel came into my room to tell me the same thing, with this addition to it, that my passport had been particularly asked after: the master of the hotel concluded with saying he hoped I had one. ... Not I, faith! said I.

The master of the hotel retired three steps from me, as from an infected person, as I declared this;-and poor La Fleur advanced three steps towards me, and with that sort of movement which a good soul makes to succour a distressed one: the fellow won my heart by it; from that single trait, I knew his character 23 perfectly, and could rely on it as firmly, as if he had served me with fidelity for seven years. Mon Seigneur! cried the master of the hotel; --but recollecting himself as he made the exclamation, he instantly changed the tone of itIf monsieur, said he, has not a passport (apparemment), in all likelihood he has friends in Paris who can procure him one. . . . Not that I know of, quoth I, with an air of indifference. . . . Then certes, replied he, you'll be sent to the Bastile or the Chatelet, au moins. . . . Poo!

said I, the King of France is a good-natured soul, he'll hurt nobody. . . . Cela n'empeche pas, said he,-you will certainly be sent to the Bastile to-morrow morning. But I've

taken your lodgings for a month, answered I, and I'll not quit them before the time for all the Kings of France in the world. . . . La Fleur whispered in my ear-that nobody could oppose the King of France.

Pardi, said my host, ces Messieurs Anglois sont des gens tres extraordinaires;—and having both said and sworn it--he went out.

THE PASSPORT.

THE HOTEL AT PARIS.

I COULD not find in my heart to torture La Fleur's with a serious look upon the subject of my embarrassment, which was the reason I had treated it so cavalierly; and, to show him how light it lay upon my mind, I dropped the subject entirely; and, whilst he waited upon me at supper, talked to him with more than usual gaiety about Paris, and of the Opera Comique.— La Fleur had been there himself, and had followed me through the streets as far as the bookseller's shop; but seeing me come out with the young fille de chambre, and that we walked down the Quai de Conti together, La Fleur deemed it unnecessary to follow me a step farther, so, making his own reflections upon it, he took a shorter cut, and got to the hotel in time to be informed of the affair of the police, against my arrival.

As soon as the honest creature had taken away, and gone down to sup himself, I then began to think a little seriously about my situation.

-And here, I know, Eugenius, thou wilt smile at the remembrance of a short dialogue which passed betwixt us the moment I was going to set out.-I must tell it here.

I've

Eugenius, knowing that I was as little subject to be overburthened with money as thought, had drawn me aside to interrogate me how much I had taken care for. Upon telling him the exact sum, Eugenius shook his head and said it would not do; so pulled out his purse, in order to empty it into mine. enough, in conscience, Eugenius, said I. . . . Indeed, Yorick, you have not, replied Eugenius; I know France and Italy better than you. But you don't consider, Eugenius, said I, refusing his offer, that before I have been three days in Paris, I shall take care to say or do something or other for which I shall get clapped up into the Bastile, and that I shall live there a couple of months entirely at the King of France's I beg pardon, said Eugenius, dryly really, I had forgot that resource. Now the event I treated gaily came seriously to my door.

expense.

...

He was sitting upon the ground upon a little straw, in the farthest corner of his dungeon, which was alternately his chair and bed. A little calendar of small sticks was laid at the head, notched all over with the dismal days and nights he had passed there. He had one of these little sticks in his hand, and with a rusty nail he was etching another day of misery to add to the heap. As I darkened the little light he had, he lifted up a hopeless eye towards the door, then cast it down,-shook his head, and went on with his work of affliction. I heard his chains upon his legs, as he turned his body to lay his little stick upon the bundle. He gave a deep sigh.-I saw the Iron enter into his soul! -I burst into tears.I could not sustain the picture of confinement which my fancy had drawn. I started up from my chair, and calling La Fleur, I bid him bespeak me a remise, and have it ready at the door of the hotel by nine in the morning.

In my return from Italy, I brought him with me to the country in whose language he had learned his notes; and, telling the story of him to Lord A-, Lord A. begged the bird of me; in a week Lord A. gave him to Lord B-; Lord B. made a present of him to Lord C-; and Lord C.'s gentleman sold him to Lord D.'s for a shilling :-Lord D. gave him to Lord E., and so on, half round the alphabet. From that rank he passed into the lower house, and passed the hands of as many commoners.-But as all these wanted to get in, and my bird wanted to get out, he had almost as little store set by him in London as in Paris.

It is impossible but many of my readers must have heard of him; and if any by mere chance have ever seen him, I beg leave to inform them that that bird was my bird-or some vile copy set up to represent him.

I have nothing further to add upon him, but that, from that time to this, I have borne this

La Fleur would have put me to bed; but not willing he should see anything upon my cheek which would cost the honest fellow a heart-ache, I told him I would go to bed by myself, and bid him go do the same.

THE STARLING.

ROAD TO VERSAILLES.

I GOT into my remise the hour I proposed,-La Fleur got up behind, and I bid the coachman make the best of his way to Versailles.

As there was nothing in this road, or rather nothing which I look for in travelling, I cannot fill up the blank better than with a short history of this self-same bird, which became the subject of the last chapter.

Whilst the Honourable Mr. **** was waiting for a wind at Dover, it had been caught upon the cliffs, before it could well fly, by an English lad who was his groom; who, not caring to destroy it, had taken it in his breast into the packet; and, by course of feeding it, and taking it at once under his protection, in a day or two grew fond of it, and got it safe along with him to Paris.

At Paris the lad had laid out a livre in a little cage for the starling; and, as he had little to do better the five months his master stayed there, he taught it, in his mother's tongue, the four simple words (and no more) to which I owned myself so much its debtor.

Upon his master's going on for Italy, the lad had given it to the master of the hotel. But his little song for liberty being in an unknown language at Paris, the bird had little or no store

THE ADDRESS.

VERSAILLES.

I SHOULD not like to have my enemy take a view of my mind when I am going to ask protection of any man, for which reason I generally endeavour to protect myself; but this going to Monsieur le Duc de C- —was an act of compulsion;-had it been an act of choice, I should have done it, I suppose, like other people.

How many mean plans of dirty address, as I went along, did my servile heart form! I deserved the Bastile for every one of them.

Then nothing would serve me, when I got within sight of Versailles, but putting words and sentences together, and conceiving attitudes and tones to writhe myself into Monsieur le Duc de C's good grace.-This will do, said I.-Just as well, retorted I again, as a coat carried up to him by an adventurous tailor, without taking his measure.-Fool! continued I,-see Monsieur le Duc's face first ;-observe what character is written in it ;-take notice in what posture he stands to hear you ;-mark the turns and expressions of his body and limbs; and for the tone-the first sound which comes from his lips will give it you;—and, from all these together, you'll compound an address at once upon the spot, which cannot disgust the Duke; the ingredients are his own, and most likely to go down.

Well! said I, I wish it well over.-Coward again! as if man to man was not equal, throughout the whole surface of the globe; and if in