Sketch of Fancy.

monk in close conference with a lady just arrived at the inn-I told him the truth; but I did not tell him the whole truth; for I was full as much restrained by the appearance and figure of the lady he was talking to. Suspicion crossed

my brain, and said, he was telling her what had passed: something jarred upon it within me-I wished him at his convent.

When the heart flies out before the understanding, it saves the judgment a world of pains-I was certain she was of a better order of beings-however, I thought no more of her, but went on and wrote my preface.

The impression returned, upon my encounter with her in the street; a guarded frankness with which she gave me her hand, shewed, I thought, her good education and her good sense; and as I led her on, I felt a pleasurable ductility about her, which spread a calmness over all my spirits

-Good God! how a man might lead such a creature as this round the world with him!

I had not yet seen her face-'twas not material; for the drawing was instantly set about, and long before we had got to the door of the Remise, Fancy had finish'd the whole head, and pleased herself as much with its fitting her goddess, as if she had dived into the TIBER for it-but thou

Sympathy.

art a seduced, and a seducing slut; and albeit thou cheatest us seven times a day with thy pictures and images, yet with so many charms dost thou do it, and thou deckest out thy pictures in the shapes of so many angels of light, 'tis a shame to break with thee.

When we had got to the door of the Remise, she withdrew her hand from across her forehead, and let me see the original-it was a face of about six-and-twenty-of a clear transparent brown, simply set off without rouge or powder-it was not critically handsome, but there was that in it, which, in the frame of mind I was in, attached me much more to it-it was interesting; I fancied it wore the characters of a widow'd look, and in that state of its declension, which had passed the two first paroxysms of sorrow, and was quietly beginning to reconcile itself to its loss-but a thousand other distresses might have traced the same lines; I wish'd to know what they had been -and was ready to enquire, (had the same bon ton of conversation permitted, as in the days of Esdras)" What aileth thee? and why art thou disquieted? and why is thy understanding troubled ?" -In a word, I felt benevolence for her; and resolved some way or other to throw in my mite of courtesy-if not of service.

The Reply.

Such were my temptations- and in this disposition to give way to them, was I left alone with the lady with her hand in mine,* and with our faces both turned closer to the door of the Remise than what was absolutely necessary.

THE REMISE DOOR.

CALAIS.

THIS certainly, fair lady! said I, raising her hand up a little lightly as I began, must be one of fortune's whimsical doings: to take two utter strangers by their hands-of different sexes, and perhaps from different corners of the globe, and in one moment place them together in such a cordial situation, as Friendship herself could scarce have atchieved for them, had she projected it for a month.

-And your reflection upon it, shews how much, Monsieur, she has embarrassed you by the adventure

*It is the great excellence of our author, that his writing keeps the mind in continual attention: from the smallest and most trifling circumstances does he work up a situation, from which we are led to expect much more than really follows, and yet the little that he makes use of, is so adorned as to impress the most pleasing ideas--we stop often disappointed, but never angry.

A Compliment.

When the situation is what we would wish, nothing is so ill-timed as to hint at the circumstances which make it so: you thank Fortune, continued she-you had reason—the heart knew it, and was satisfied; and who but an English philosopher would have sent notices of it to the brain to reverse the judgment?

In saying this, she disengaged her hand with a look which I thought a sufficient commentary upon the text.

It is a miserable picture which I am going to give of the weakness of my heart, by owning, that it suffered a pain, which worthier occasions could not have inflicted.-I was mortified with the loss of her hand, and the manner in which I had lost it carried neither oil nor wine to the wound: I never felt the pain of a sheepish inferiority so miserably in my life.

*

are

The triumphs of a true feminine heart short upon these discomfitures. In a very few seconds she laid her hand upon the cuff of my

* The delicacy of this compliment to the feminine mind is well worthy notice; it implies in it, that however capable a woman of sense may be of pointed remarks, yet the softness, the gentleness, of her disposition, prevents her from using her victory with a conscious superiority, but inclines her, by a quick transition, rather to encourage than overbear her opponent.

Conversation continued.

coat, in order to finish her reply; so some way or other, God knows how, I regained my situation.

I forthwith began to model a different conversation for the lady, thinking from the spirit as well as moral of this, that I had been mistaken in her character; but upon turning her face towards me, the spirit which had animated the reply was filed-the muscles relaxed, and I beheld the same unprotected look of distress which first won me to her interest-melancholy ! to see such sprightliness the prey of sorrow-I pitied her from my soul; and though it may seem ridiculous enough to a torpid heart--I could have taken her into my arms, and cherished her, though it was in the open street, without blushing.

The pulsations of the arteries along my fingers pressing across hers, told her what was passing within me: she looked down-a silence of some moments followed.

I fear, in this interval, I must have made some slight efforts towards a closer compression of her hand, from a subtle sensation I felt in the palm of my own-not as if she was going to withdraw hers—but as if she thought about it—and I had infallibly lost it a second time, had not instinct