Subject continued. from all common-place ideas of fat contented ignorance looking downwards upon the earth—it look'd forwards; but look'd, as if it look'd at something beyond this world. How one of his order came by it, heaven above, who let it fall upon a monk's shoulders, best knows: but it would have suited a Bramin,* and had I met it upon the plains of Indostan, I had revenced it. The rest of his outline may be given in a few strokes; one might put it into the hands of any one to design, for 'twas neither elegant or otherwise, but as character and expression made it so: it was a thin, spare form, something above the common size, if it lost not the distinction by a bend forwards in the figure-but was the atti his female forms, his colouring, his graceful airs of the heads, altogether are looked upon as exquisite: but, the tender, the pathetic, the devout, in which he could manifest the sweetness, and the delicacy of his thoughts were those in which he excelled, and which distinguished him from every other painter. Perhaps no author ever equalled Sterne, in the eccentricity of his manner of writing, which at his pleasure he throws off in a moment; seizes every avenue to the heart, by observations which awaken the finest feelings, and attune the mind to sensibility; like Guido, when he chuses it, his colouring is soft, affecting, and impressive. *The Bramins are a sect of religious men in Persia, who practice every species of self mortification, under the idea, that it is acceptable to the Divinity, Address to the Monk. tude of entreaty; and as it now stands presented to my imagination, it gain'd more than it lost by it. When he had enter'd the room three paces, he stood still; and laying his left hand upon his breast, (a slender white staff with which he journeyed being in his right)—when I had got close up to him, he introduced himself with the little story of the wants of his convent, and the poverty of his order-and did it with so simple a grace and such an air of deprecation was there in the whole cast of his look and figure-I was bewitched not to have been struck with it-A better reason was,* I had predetermined not to give him a single sous. THE MONK. CALAIS. -Tis very true, said I, replying to a cast upwards with his eyes, with which he had conclu * How inimitably is here pourtrayed the sudden transition of the mind-By the most trifling circumstances often, is the man possessing the noblest sentiments of humanity, lead to deviate from it for the moment, like a well-tuned instrument that receives a casual concussion. The fraternity of St. Francis were clad in a loose robe, with a cord encircling the waist; with sandals on their feet, but no stockings. The Remonstrance. ded his address-'tis very true-and heaven be their resource who have no other but the charity of the world, the stock of which, I fear, is no way sufficient for the many great claims which are hourly made upon it. As I pronounced the words great claims, he gave a slight glance with his eye downwards upon the sleeve of his tunic-I-felt the full force of the appeal-I acknowledge it, said I-a coarse habit, and that but once in three years, with meagre diet-are no great matters; and the true point of pity is, as they can be earn'd in the world with so little industry, that your order should wish to procure them by pressing upon a fund which is the property of the lame, the blind, the aged, and the infirm--the captive who lies down counting over and over again the days of his afflictions, languishes also for his share of it; and had you been of the order of mercy, instead of the order of St. Francis, poor as I am, continued I, pointing at my portmanteau, full cheerfully should it have been open'd to you, for the ransom of the unfortunate-The monk made me a bow-but of all others, resumed I, the unfortunate of our own country, surely, have the first right; and I have left thousands in distress upon our own shore-. The monk gave a cordial wave with his headas much as to say, No doubt there is misery enough in every corner of the world, as well as |