The Compliment.

-And does the Count de B****, said I, read Shakespeare? 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 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 Egarements du Cœur & de l'Esprit: the bookseller gave her the book directly; she pulled out a little green satin purse run round with ribband 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, 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.-Le 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 dress'd out with pearls.

The Crown-Piece.

The young girl listened with a submissive attention, holding her satin purse by its ribband 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 Shakespeare; and as she had let go the purse entirely, I put a single one in; and tying up the ribband in a bow-knot, returned it to her.

The young girl made me more a humble courtesy than a low one-'twas 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 life which gave me half the pleasure.*

my

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'll remember it-so don't, my dear, lay it out in ribbands.

Upon my word, Sir, said the girl, earnestly, I am incapable-in saying which, as is usual in little bargains of honour, she gave me her hand

* Here again the imagination is played with-the reader is left to make his own comments, and led into a path which he can only blame himself for pursuing.

Female Simplicity.

-En verité, Monsieur, je mettrai cet argent apart, said she.

When a virtuous convention is made betwixt man and woman, it sanctifies their most private walks so notwithstanding it was dusky, yet, as both our roads lay the same way, we made no scruple of walking along the Quai de Conti together.

She made me a second courtesy in setting off, and before we got twenty yards from the door, as if she had not done enough before, she made a sort of a little stop to tell me again-she thanked

me.

It was a small tribute, I told her, which I could not avoid paying to virtue, and would not be mistaken in the person I had been rendering it to for the world-but I see innocence, my dear, in your face and foul befal the man who ever lays a snare in its way!

The girl seem'd affected some way or other with what I said-she gave a low sigh-I found I was not empowered to enquire at all after it-so said nothing more till I got to the corner of the Rue de Nevers, where we were to part.

-But is this the way, my dear, said I, to the Hotel de Modene? She told me it was-or, that I might go by the Rue de Gueneguault, which was the next turn. Then I'll go, my dear, by the Rue