unwary passenger, whom your subjects had beckon'd to their coaft-by heaven! SIRE, it is not well done; and inuch does it grieve me, 'tis the monarch of a people so civilized and courteous, and fo renown'd for fentiment and fine feelings, that I have to reason with

:

But I have fcarce set foot in your do

CALAI S.

1

WHEN I had finish'd my dinner,

and drank the King of France's health, to fatisfy my mind that I bore him no spleen, but, on the contrary, high honour for the humanity of his temper - I rose up an inch taller for the accommodation.

-No-faid I- the Bourbon is by no means a cruel race: they may be misled like other people; but there is a mildness in their blood. As I acknowledged this, I felt a fuffusion of a finer kind upon my cheek-more warın and friendly to man, than what Burgundy (at least of two livres a bottle, which was such as I had been drinking) could have produced.

-Just

:

-Just God! faid I, kicking my portmanteau afide, what is there in this world's goods which should sharpen our spirits, and make so many kind-hearted brethren of us, fall out so cruelly as we do by the way?

:

When man is at peace with man, how much lighter than a feather is the heaviest of metals in his hand! he pulls out his purse, and holding it airily and uncompress'd, looks round him, as if he fought for an object to share it with-In doing this, I felt every vessel in my frame dilate-the arteries beat all chearily together, and every power which fustained life, perform'd it with so little friction, that 'twould have confounded the most physical precieuse in France: with all her materialisin, she could scarce have called me a machine

I'm confident, said I to myself, I should have overset her creed.

The accession of that idea, carried nature, at that time, as high as she could go- I was at peace with the world before, and this finish'd the treaty with myfelf

:

-Now, was I a King of France, cried I what a moment for an orphan to have begg'd his father's portinanteau of me!

THE MΟΝΚ.

CALAI S.

I HAD scarce utter'd the words, when a poor monk of the order of St. Francis came into the room to beg something for his convent. No man cares to have his virtues the sport of contingencies-or one man may be generous, as another man is puiffant-fed non, quo ad hancor be it as it may for there is no regular reasoning upon the ebbs and flows of our humours; they may depend upon the fame causes, for ought I know, which influence the tides themselvestwould oft be no difcredit to us, to fuppose it was fo: I'm fure at least for myself, that in many a case I should be more highly fatisfied, to have it faid by