Abbildungen der Seite

unwary passenger, whom your fubjects had beckon'd to their coaft- by heaven! SIRE, it is not well done; and much

does it grieve me, 'tis the monarch of a people fo civilized and courteous, and fo renown'd for fentiment and fine feelings, that I have to reafon with


But I have fcarce fet foot in





WHEN I had finifh'd my dinner,

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


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


-Juft God! faid I, kicking my portmanteau afide, what is there in this world's goods which fhould fharpen our fpirits, and make fo many kind-hearted brethren of us, fall out fo cruelly as we do by the way?

with man,

When man is at peace how much lighter than a feather is the heaviest of metals in his hand! he pulls out his purse, and holding it airily and uncomprefs'd, looks round him, as if he fought for an object to fhare it with-In doing this, I felt every veffel in my frame dilate-the arteries beat all chearily together, and every power which fuftained life, perform'd it with fo little friction, that 'twould have confounded the moft phyfical precieufe in France: with all her materialifin, fhe could fcarce have called me a machine

I'm confident, faid I to myself, fhould have overfet her creed.


The acceffion of that idea, carried na ture, at that time, as high as fhe could go I was at peace with the world before, and this finifl'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 me!

[ocr errors][merged small]



as another

I HAD fearce utter'd the words, when a poor monk of the order of St. Francis came into the room to beg fomething for his convent. No man cares to have his virtues the fport of contingencies—or one man may be generous, man is puiffant-fed non, quo ad hancor be it as it inay-for there is no regular reafoning upon the ebbs and flows of our humours; they may depend upon the fame causes, for ought I know, which influence the tides themselves'twould oft be no difcredit to us, to fuppofe it was fo: I'm fure at least for myself, that in many a cafe I fhould be more highly satisfied, to have it said by

[blocks in formation]
« ZurückWeiter »