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 at Paris, he offered me a pinch of snuff.

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 opéra, 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 grisette's pockets? The old French officer smiled, and whispering in my ear, opened a door of knowledge which I had no idea of

ment

Good God! said I, turning pale with astonishis it possible that a people so smit with sentiment should at the same time be so unclean, and so unlike themselves? Quelle grossièreté !

added I..

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 Molière-but, like other remains of gothic manners, was declining-Every nation, continued he, have their refinements and grossièretés, 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 not some delicacies, which others seem to want. Le POUR et le CONTRE se trouvent en chaque nation; there is a balance, said he, of good and bad every where; and nothing but the knowing it is so, can emancipate one half of the world from the prepossessions which it holds against the other that the advantage of travel, as it regarded the savoir 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 air of such candour and good sense, as coincided with my first favourable impressions of his characler-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 Rambouillet, 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 Rambouillet is the most correct; and I never wish to see one of more virtues and purity of heart - In our return back, Madame de Rambouillet desired me to pull the cord-I asked her if she wanted any thing - Rien que de pisser, said Madame de

Rambouillet

Grieve not, gentle traveller, to let Madame de Rambouillet p-ss on And, ye fair mystic nymphs! go each one pluck your rose, and scatter them in your path for Madame de Rambouillet

did no more - I handed Madame de Rambouillet 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.

XXXVIII. THE FILLE-DE-CHAMBRE.

PARIS.

W HAT the old French officer had delivered upon travelling, bringing Polonius's advice to his son upon the same subject into my head· that bringing in Hamlet; and Hamlet, the rest of

- and

Shakspeare's works, I stopped 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 Shakspeare? C'est un esprit 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 Englishman to lay out a louis d'or or two at your shop-The bookseller made a bow, and was going to say something, when a young decent girl of about twenty, who by her air and dress seemed to be fille-de-chambre to some devout woman of fashion, came into the shop and asked for les Égaremens du cœur et de l'esprit : the bookseller gave her the book directly; she pulled out a little green satin purse run round with a riband of the same colour, and putting her finger and thumb into it, she took out the money, and paid for it. As I had nothing more to stay me in the shop, we both walked out at the door together.

And what have you to do, my dear, said I,

The count de Bissy, member of the French Academy, and one of the officers of the houshold of the father of the late duke d'Orleans.

with the Wanderings of the heart, who scarce know yet you have one? nor, till love has first told you it, or some faithless shepherd has made it ache, canst thou ever be sure it is so. - Dieu m'en garde! said the girl.—With reason, said I for if it is a good one, 'tis pity it should be stolen: 'tis a little treasure to thee, and gives a better air to your face, than if it was dressed out with pearls.

-

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 one, 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 Shakspeare; 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 an humble courtesy than a low one- -it was 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 will remember it it out in ribands.

so do not, my dear, lay