Invocation. queathing, except the history of myself, which I could not die in peace unless I left it as a legacy to the world; the profits arising out of it I bequeath to you for the pains of taking it from me -it is a story so uncommon, it must be read by all mankind---it will make the fortunes of your house---the notary dipp'd his pen into his inkhorn -Almighty Director of every event in my life! said the old gentleman, looking up earnestly, and raising his hands towards heaven---Thou, whose hand has led me on through such a labyrinth of strange passages down into this scene of desolation, assist the decaying memory of an old, infirm, and broken-hearted man---direct my tongue by the spirit of thy eternal truth, that this stranger may set down nought but what is written in that BOOK, from whose records, said he, clasping his hands together, I am to be condemned or acquitted!---the notary held up the point of his pen betwixt the taper and his eye-- -It is a story, Monsieur le Notaire, said the gentleman, which will rouse up every affection in nature---it will kill the humane, and touch the heart of cruelty herself with pity-- ---The notary was inflamed with a desire to begin, and put his pen a third time into his inkhorn---and the old gentleman turning a little Disappointment. more towards the notary, began to dictate his story in these words-- -And where is the rest of it, La Fleur? said I, as he just then enter'd the room.* THE FRAGMENT, AND THE BOUQUET. PARIS. WHEN La Fleur came up close to the table, and was made to comprehend what I wanted, he told me there were only two other sheets of it, which he had wrapt round the stalks of a bouquet to keep it together, which he had presented to the demoiselle upon the boulevards---Then, prithee, La Fleur, said I, step back to her to the Count de B****'s hotel, and see if thou can'st get it--There is no doubt of it, said La Fleur---and away he flew. In a very little time the poor fellow came back quite out of breath, with deeper marks of disap *The intention of that species of writing, called a Fragment, is rather an apology for relating in a concise manner some few incidents, unconnected with the general plan of a work. There is no originality in this of Sterne's, unless, indeed, he meant hereafter to have made it the ground-work of some interesting recital, which at the end he hints at. The dark Entry. pointment in his looks than could arise from the simple irreparability of the fragment---Juste ciel! in less than two minutes that the poor fellow had taken his last tender farewel of her---his faithless mistress had given his gage d'amour to one of the Count's footmen---the footman to a young sempstress---and the sempstress to a fiddler, with my fragment at the end of it---Our misfortunes were involved together---I gave a sigh---and La Fleur echo'd it back again to my ear. -How perfidious! cried La Fleur-How unlucky! said I. -I should not have been mortified, Monsieur, quoth La Fleur, if she had lost it-Nor I, La Fleur, said 1, had I found it. Whether I did or no, will be seen hereafter. THE ACT OF CHARITY. PARIS. THE man who either disdains or fears to walk up a dark entry, may be an excellent good man, and fit for a hundred things; but he will not do to make a good sentimental traveller. I count little of the many things I see pass at broad noonday, in large and open streets.---Nature is shy, and hates to act before spectators; but in such an unobserved corner you sometimes see a single |