of the window, and was going to do the same by the waste paper; but, stopping to read a line first, and that drawing me on to a second and third,-I thought it better worth; so I shut the window, and drawing a chair up to it, I sat down to read it.

It was in the old French of Rabelais' time; and, for aught I know, might have been wrote by him: it was, moreover, in a Gothic letter, and that so faded and gone off by damps and length of time, it cost me infinite trouble to make anything of it.-I threw it down; and then wrote a letter to Eugenius,-then I took it up again, and embroiled my patience with it afresh :and then, to cure that, I wrote a letter to Eliza.-Still it kept hold of me; and the difficulty of understanding it increased but the desire.

I got my dinner; and after I had enlightened my mind with a bottle of Burgundy, I at it again;—and after two or three hours poring upon it, with almost as deep attention as ever Gruter or Jacob Spon did upon a nonsensical inscription, I thought I made sense of it; but to make sure of it, the best way, 1 imagined, was to turn it into English, and see how it would look then; -so I went on leisurely as a trifling man does, sometimes writing a sentence,-then taking a turn or two,-and then looking how the world went, out of the window; so that it was nine o'clock at night before I had done it,—I then began, and read it as follows.

-Now as the Notary's wife disputed the point with the Notary with too much heat,I wish, said the Notary (throwing down the parchment), that there was another Notary here, only to set down and attest all this. -And what would you do rising hastily up.-The Notary's

then, Monsieur? said she, wife was a little fume of a woman, and the Notary thought it well to avoid a hurricane by a mild reply-I would go. an

swered he, to bed.Notary's wife.

-You may go to the devil, answered the

Now there happening to be but one bed in the house, the other two rooms being unfurnished, as is the custom at Paris, and the Notary not caring to lie in the same bed with a woman who had but that moment sent him pell-mell to the devil, went forth with his hat, and cane, and short cloak, the night being very windy, and walked out ill at ease towards the Pont Neuf.

Of all the bridges which ever were built, the whole world who have passed over the Pont Neuf must own, that it is the noblest, the finest,—the grandest,—the lightest,—the longest, -the broadest, that ever conjoined land and land together upon the face of the terraqueous globe.—

By this it seems as if the author of the fragment had not been a Frenchman.

The worst fault which divines and the doctors of the Sorbonne can allege against it is, that if there is but a capful of wind in or about Paris,'tis more blasphemously sacré Dieu'd there than in any other aperture of the whole city, and with reason good and cogent, Messieurs; for it comes against you without crying garde d'eau, and with such unpremeditable puffs, that of the few who cross it with their hats on, not one in fifty but hazards two livres and a half, which is its full worth.

The poor Notary, just as he was passing by the sentry, instinctively clapped his cane to the side of it; but in raising it up, the point of his cane catching hold of the loop of the sentinel's hat, hoisted it over the spikes of the balustrade clear into the Seine.

-'Tis an ill wind, said a boatman, who catched it, which blows nobody any good.

The sentry, being a Gascon, incontinently twirled up his whiskers, and levelled his arquebuss.

Arquebusses in those days went off with matches; and an

old woman's paper lantern at the end of the bridge happening to be blown out, she had borrowed the sentry's match to light it; it gave a moment's time for the Gascon's blood to run cool, and turn the accident better to his advantage.—'Tis an ill wind, said he, catching off the Notary's castor, and legitimating the capture with the boatman's adage.

The poor Notary crossed the bridge, and passing along the Rue de Dauphine into the Fauxbourg of St. Germain, lamented himself as he walked along in this

manner:

Luckless man that I am! said the Notary, to be the sport of hurricanes all my days!-to be born to have the storm of ill language levelled against me and my profession wherever I go-to be forced into marriage by the thunder of the church to a tempest of a woman!— to be driven forth out of my house by domestic winds, and despoiled of my castor by pontific ones!-to be here, bare-headed, in a windy night, at the mercy of the ebbs and flows of accidents!-Where am I to

lay my head ?-Miserable man! what wind in the two-and-thirty points in the whole compass can blow unto thee, as it does to the rest of thy fellow-creatures, good!

As the Notary was passing on by a dark passage, complaining in this sort, a voice called out to a girl, to bid her run for the next Notary.-Now the Notary being the next, and availing himself of his situation, walked up the passage to the door, and passing through an old sort of saloon, was ushered into a large chamber, dismantled of every thing but a long military pike,

-a breastplate,- -a rusty old sword, and bandoleer, hung up equidistant in four different places against the wall.

An old personage, who had heretofore been a gentleman,' and, unless decay of fortune taints the blood along with it, was a gentleman at that time, lay supporting his head upon his hand, in his bed; a little table with a taper burning was set close beside it, and close by the table was placed a chair. The Notary sat him down in it; and pulling out his ink-horn and a sheet or two of paper which he had in his pocket, he placed them before him, and dipping his pen in his ink, and leaning his breast over the table, he disposed everything to make the gentleman's last will and testament.

-Alas! Monsieur le Notaire, said the gentleman, raising himself up a little, I have nothing to bequeath, which will pay the expense of bequeathing, except the history of myself, and I could not die in peace unless I left it as a

legacy to the world; the profits arising out of it I bequeath to you for the pains of taking it from me. It is a story so uncommon, it must be read by all mankind;-it will make the fortunes of your house.- The Notary dipped his pen into his ink-horn.Almighty Director of every event in my life! -said the old gentleman, looking up earnestly, and raising his hands towards Heaven,-Thou, whose hand has led me on through such a labyrinth of strange passages down into this scene of desolation, assist the decaying memory of an old,