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THE SNUFF BOX.

London Published by John Coreiwreck August 1.1774

THE SNUFF-BOX.

.........

CALAIS.

THE good old monk was within six paces of us, as the idea of him crossed my mind; and was advancing towards us a little out of the line, as if uncertain whether he should break in upon us or no. He stopped, however, as soon as he came up to us, with a world of frankness; and having a horn snuff-box in his hand, he presented it open to me-You shall taste mine-said I, pulling out my box (which was a small tortoise one) and putting it into his hand-'Tis most excellent, said the monk :-Then do me the favour, I replied, to accept of the box and all; and when you take a pinch out

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of it, sometimes recollect it was the peaceoffering of a man who once used you unkindly, but not from his heart.

The poor monk blushed as red as scarlet. Mon Dieu! said he, pressing his hands together-you never used me unkindly. I should think, said the lady, he is not likely-I blushed in my turn; but from what movements, I leave to the few who feel, to analyse-Excuse me, Madame, replied I-I treated him most unkindly; and from no provocations-'Tis impossible, said the lady. - My God! cried the monk, with a warmth of asseveration which seemed not to belong to him-the fault was in me, and in the indiscretion of my zeal-the lady opposed it, and I joined with her in maintaining it was impossible, that a spirit so regulated as his, could give offence to any.

I knew not that contention could be rendered so sweet and pleasurable a thing to the nerves as I then felt it. We re

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