look and figure-I was bewitched not to have been struck with it. A better reason was, I had pre-determined 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 concluded 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 down. wards upon the sleeve of his tunic-I felt the full force of the appeal-I acknow ledge 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 earned 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 opened 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 rights; and I have left thousands in distress upon our own shoreThe monk gave a cordial wave with his head-as much as to say, No doubt but there is misery enough in every corner of the world, as well as within our convent. -But we distinguish, said I, laying my hand upon the sleeve of his tunic, in return for his appeal-we distinguish, my good Father! betwixt those who wish only to eat the bread of their own labourand those who eat the bread of other people's, and have no other plan in life, but to get through it in sloth and ignorance, for the love of God. The poor Franciscan made no reply; a hectic of a moment passed across his cheek, but could not tarry- -Nature seemed to have had done with her resentments in him; he shewed none-but letting his staff fall within his arm, he pressed both his hands with resignation upon his breast, and retired. THE MONK. CALAIS. My heart smote me the moment he shut the door-Psha! said I, with an air of carelessness, three several times-but it would not do: every ungracious syllable I had uttered, crowded back into my imagination; I reflected I had no right over the poor Franciscan, but to deny him; and that the punishment of that was enough to the disappointed, without the addition of unkind language-I considered his grey hairs-his courteous figure seemed to re-enter, and gently ask me what injury he had done me?—and why I could use him thus?-I would have given twenty livres for an advocate—I have behaved very ill, said I within myself: but I have only just set out upon my travels: and shall learn better manners as I get along. THE DESOBLIGEANT. ......... CALAIS. WHEN a man is discontented with himself, it has one advantage, however, that it puts him into an excellent frame of mind for making a bargain. Now there being no travelling through France and Italy without a chaise-and nature generally prompting us to the thing we are fitted for, I walked out into the coach-yard to buy or hire something of that kind to my purpose: an old Desobligeant * in the furthest corner of the court, hit my fancy at first sight: so I instantly got into it, and finding it in tolerable harmony with my feelings, I ordered the waiter to call Monsieur Dessein, the master of the hotel-but Monsieur Dessein being gone * A chaise so called, in France, from its holding but one person. |