« ZurückWeiter »
unwary passenger, whom your subjects had beckond to their coast-— 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 so renown'd for sentiment and fine feelings, that I have to reason with
· But I have scarce fet foot in your dominions
WHEN I had finishid 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 1- the Bourbon is by no means a cruel race: they may be milled like other people; but there is a unildness in their blood. As I acknowledged this, I felt a fuffusion of a finer kind upon my cheek_more warm 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 God! said 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 fo 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 sought 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 sustained life, perforı'd it with so little friction, that 'would have confounded the most physical precieuse in France: with all her inaterialisin, 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 na. ture, at that tiine, as high as she could go- I was at peace with the world before, and this finish'd the treaty with myself
-Now, was I a King of France, cried I -- what a moment for an orphan to have begg'd his father's portinanteau of ine!
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 puissant-fed non, quo ad haneor be it as it may—for there is no’regular reasoning upon the ebbs and flows of our hunours; they may depend upon the same causes, for ought I know, which influence the tides themselves'would oft be no discredit to us, to suppose it was so : I'm sure at least for myself, that in many a case I should be more highly satisfied, to have it said by A 4