An Interruption.

-Would to heaven! my dear Eugenius, thou hadst passed by, and beheld me sitting in my black coat, and in my lack-a-daysical manner, counting the throbs of it, one by one, with as much true devotion as if I had been watching the critical ebb or flow of her fever-How wouldst thou have laughed and moralized upon my new profession?and thou shouldst have laughed and moralized on- -Trust me, my dear Eugenius, I should have said, “there are worse occupations in this world than feeling a woman's pulse."-But a Grisset's! thou wouldst have said-and in an open shop! Yorick

-So much the better: for when my views are direct, Eugenius, I care not if all the world saw me feel it.

THE HUSBAND.

PARIS.

I HAD counted twenty pulsations, and was going on fast towards the fortieth, when her husband coming unexpected from a back-parlour into the shop, put me a little out in my reckoning.-"Twas nobody but her husband, she said *-so I began

* It is singular that nations so near should differ so widely in their conduct to women, the carelessness of the Frenchman, the jealousy of the Italian and Spaniard, and the

The Comparison.

a fresh score- -Monsieur is so good, quoth she, as he pass'd by us, as to give himself the trouble of feeling my pulse-The husband took off his hat, and making me a bow, said I did him too much honour-and having said that, he put on his hat and walk'd out.

Good God! said I to myself, as he went outand can this man be the husband of this woman!

Let it not torment the few who know what must have been the grounds of this exclamation, if I explain it to those who do not.

In London a shopkeeper and a shopkeeper's wife seem to be one bone and one flesh in the several endowments of mind and body, sometimes the one, sometimes the other has it, so as in general to be upon a par, and to tally with each other as nearly as man and wife need to do.

In Paris, there are scarce two orders of beings more different: for the legislative and executive powers of the shop not resting in the husband, he seldom comes there-in some dark and dismal room behind, he sits commerceless in his thrum night-cap, the same rough son of Nature that Nature left him.

honourable confidence of the Englishman, are national characters which a long intercourse has never been able to alter.

The Force of Example.

*

The genius of a people where nothing but the monarchy is salique, having ceded this department, with sundry others, totally to the women--by a continual higgling with customers of all ranks and sizes from morning to night, like so many rough pebbles shook along together in a bag, by amicable collisions,† they have worn down their asperities and sharpe angles, and not only become round and smooth, but will receive, some of them, a polish like a brilliant---Monsieur le Mari is little better than the stone under your foot.

* That law in France, which, before the revolution, pre vented females from inheriting the crown.

It is these amicable collisions which polish and adorn the mind; we catch the manners of those whose company we keep. How highly important therefore is it, in the early part of our life, to form those connections which will add a suavity to our manners. We shall here illustrate the advantages of good company, by the following brief Persian fable:-One day, as I was in the bath, a friend of mine put into my hand a piece of scented clay. I took it, and said to it, "Art thou musk or ambergris? for I am charmed with thy delightful scent." It answered, "I was a piece of despicable clay; but I was sometime in the company of the rose; the sweet quality of my companion was communicated to me, otherwise I should have been only a piece of earth, as I appear to be."

* A kind of unctuous clay, which the Persians perfume with essence of roses, and use in the baths instead of

soap.

The Parcel.

---Surely---surely, man! it is not good for thee to sit alone---thou wast made for social intercourse and gentle greetings, and this improvement of our natures from it, I appeal to, as my evidence.

--And how does it beat, Monsieur? said she. ---With all the benignity, said I, looking quietly in her eyes that I expected---She was going to say something civil in return---but the lad came into the shop with the gloves ---A propos, said I; I want a couple of pair myself.

THE GLOVES.

PARIS.

THE beautiful Grisset rose up when I said this, and going behind the counter, reach'd down a parcel and untied it: I advanced to the side overagainst her they were all too large. The beautiful Grisset measured them one by one across my hand---It would not alter the dimensions---She begg'd I would try a single pair, which seem'd to be the least---She held it open---my hand slipp'd into it at oncee-It will not do, said I, shaking my head a little-No, said she, doing the same thing. There are certain combined looks of simple subtlety-where whim, and sense, and seriousness, and nonsense, are so blended, that all the languages of Babel set loose together could not express them