of this, I stopped to take my last look and last farewell of Maria. Maria, though not tall, was nevertheless of the first order of fine forms-affliction had touched her looks with something that was scarce earthly and so much was - still she was femininethere about her of all that the heart wishes, or the eye looks for, in woman, that, could the traces be ever worn out of her brain, and those of Eliza's out of mine, she should not only eat of my bread and drink of my own cup, but Maria should lie in my bosom, and be unto me as a daughter. imbibe the Adieu, poor luckless maiden ! oil and wine which the compassion of a stranger, as he journeyeth on his way, now pours into thy wounds the being who has twice bruised thee can only bind them up for ever. LXVI. THE BOURBONNOIS. THERE HERE was nothing from which I had painted out for myself so joyous a riot of the affections, as in this journey in the vintage, through this part of France; but pressing through this gate of sorrow to it, my sufferings have totally unfitted me in every scene of festivity I saw Maria in the back-ground of the piece, sitting pensive under her poplar; and I had got almost to Lyons before I was able to cast a shade across her Dear sensibility! source inexhausted of all that's precious in our joys, or costly in our sorrows! thou chainest thy martyr down upon his - and it is thou who lifts him up bed of straw to heaven Eternal fountain of our feelings! - it is here I trace thee and this is thy divinity which stirs within me not that, in some sad and sickening moments, * my soul shrinks back upon herself, and startles at destruction -mere pomp of words! - but that I feel some generous joys and generous cares beyond myself all comes from thee, great-great SENSORIUM of the world! which vibrates, if a hair of our heads but falls upon the ground, in the remotest desart of thy creation.-Touched with thee, Eugenius draws my curtain when I languish hears my tale of symptoms, and blames the weather for the disorder of his nerves. Thou givest a proportion of it sometimes to the roughest peasant who traverses the bleakest mountains he finds the lacerated lamb of another's flock This moment I beheld him leaning with his head against his crook, with piteous inclination looking down upon it Oh! had I come one moment sooner! it bleeds to death-his gentle heart bleeds with it Peace to thee, generous swain! I see thou walkest off with anguish—but thy joys shall balance it-for happy is thy cottage- and happy is the * Vide Cato's soliloquy, in Addison's celebrated tragedy, act. 5, sc. 1, sharer of it and happy are the lambs which sport about thee. A SHOE Coming loose from the fore-foot of the thill-horse, at the beginning of the ascent of mount Taurira, the postillion dismounted, twisted the shoe off, and put it in his pocket; as the ascent was of five or six miles, and that horse our main dependence, I made a point of having the shoe fastened on again, as well as we could: but the postillion had thrown away the nails; and the hammer in the chaise-box being of no great use without them, I submitted to go on. He had not mounted half a mile higher, when coming to a flinty piece of road, the poor devil lost a second shoe, and from off his other forefoot; I then got out of the chaise in good earnest, and seeing a house about a quarter of a mile to the left hand, with a great deal to do I prevailed upon the postillion to turn up to it. The look of the house, and of every thing about it, as we drew nearer, soon reconciled me to the disaster. It was a little farm-house, surrounded with about twenty acres of vineyard, about as much corn- and close to the house, on one side, was a potager of an acre and a half, full of every thing which could make plenty in a French pea * Le mont Tarare, between Roanne and Lyons. Le Villain Se The old man rose up to meet me, and with a respectful cordiality would have me sit down at the table. |