THE PASSPORT.

PARIS.

WHEN I got home to my hotel, La Fleur told me I had been enquired after by the Lieutenant de Police-The deuce take it, said I-I know the reason. It is time the reader should know it, for in the order of things in which it happened, it was omitted; not that it was out of my head; but that had I told it then, it might have been forgot now-and now is the time I want it.

I had left London with so much preci pitation, that it never entered my mind that we were at war with France, and had reached Dover, and looked through my glass at the hills beyond Boulogne, before the idea presented itself; and with

this in its train, that there was no getting there without a passport. Go but to the end of a street, I have a mortal aversion for returning back no wiser than I set out; and as this was one of the greatest efforts I had ever made for knowledge, I could less bear the thoughts of it: so hearing the Count de *** had hired the packet, I begged he would take me in his suite. The Count had some little knowledge of me, so made little or no difficulty-only said, his inclination to serve me could reach no further than Calais, as he was to return by way of Brussels to Paris: however, when I had once passed there, I might get to Paris without interruption; but that in Paris I must make friends, and shift for myself. -Let me get to Paris, Monsieur le Count, said I, and I shall do very well. So I embarked, and never thought more of

the matter.

When La Fleur told me the Lieutenant

de Police had been enquiring after methe thing instantly recurred-and by the time La Fleur had well told me, the master of the hotel came into my room to tell me the same thing, with this addition to it, that my passport had been particularly asked after-the master of the hotel concluded with saying-He hoped I had one -Not I, faith! said I.

The master of the hotel retired three steps from me, as from an infected person, as I declared this and poor La Fleur advanced three steps towards me, and with that sort of movement which a good soul makes to succour a distressed onethe fellow won my heart by it; and from that single trait, I knew his character as perfectly, and could rely upon it as firmly, as if he had served me with fidelity for seven years.

Mon Seigneur! cried the master of the hotel-but recollecting himself as he made the exclamation, he instantly changed the

tone of it-If Monsieur, said he, has not a passport (apparement) in all likelihood he has friends in Paris who can procure him one. Not that I know of, quoth I, with an air of indifference.-Then, certes, replied he, you will be sent to the Bastile or the Chatelet, au moins.-Poo! said I, the king of France is a good-natured soul→→ he will hurt nobody.-Cela n'empeche pas, said he-you will certainly be sent to the Bastile to-morrow morning.-But I have taken your lodgings for a month, answered I, and I will not quit them a day before the time for all the kings of France in the world.-La Fleur whispered in my ear, That nobody could oppose the king of France.

Pardi! said my host, ces Messieurs Anglois sont de gens tres extraordinaires-and having both said and sworn it-he went

out.

I

THE HOTEL AT PARIS.

COULD not find in my heart to torture La Fleur's with a serious look upon the subject of my embarrassment, which was the reason I had treated it so cavalierly: and to shew him how light it lay upon my mind, I dropt the subject entirely; and whilst he waited upon me at supper, talked to him with more than usual gaiety about Paris, and of the Opera Comique. -La Fleur had been there himself, and had followed me through the streets as far as the bookseller's shop; but seeing me come out with the young fille de chambre, and that we walked down the Quai de Conti together, La Fleur deemed it unnecessary to follow me a step further