tirely at the king of France's expence.-I beg pardon, faid Eugenius, drily: really, I had forgot that refource.

Now the event I treated gaily came ferioufly to my door,

Is it folly, or nonchalance, or philofophy, or pertinacity-or what is it in me, that, after all, when La Fleur had gone down ftairs, and I was quite alone, that I could not bring down my mind to think of it otherwife than I had then spoken of it to Eugenius?

-And as for the Baftile! the terror is in the word-Make the most of it you can, faid I to myself, the Baftile is but another word for a tower-and a tower is but another word for a houfe you can't get out of-Mercy on the gouty! for they are in it twice a year-but with nine livres a day, and pen and ink and paper and patience, albeit a man can't get out, he may do very well within-At leaft for a month or fix weeks; at the end of which, if he is a harmless fellow, his innocence appears, and he B 3

comes

comes out a better and wifer man than he went in.

I had fome occafion, I forget what, to step into the court-yard, as I fettled this account; and remember I walk'd down ftairs in no fmall triumph with the conceit of my reafoning— Befhrew the fombre pencil! faid I vauntinglyfor I envy not its powers, which paints the evils of life with fo hard and deadly a colouring. The mind fits terrified at the objects fhe has magnified herself, and blackened: reduce them to their proper fize and hue, fhe overlooks them 'Tis true, faid I, correcting the propofition—the Bastile is not an evil to be despisedbut ftrip it of its towers-fill up the fofféunbarricade the doors-call it fimply a confinement, and fuppofe 'tis fome tyrant of a diftemper and not of a man which holds you in it- the evil vanishes, and you bear the other half without complaint.

I was interrupted in the hey-day of this foliloquy, with a voice which I took to be of a child, which complained "it could not get

out."

out."-I look'd up and down the paffage, and seeing neither man, woman, or child, I went out without further attention.

In my return back through the passage, I heard the fame words repeated twice over; and looking up, I faw it was a ftarling hung in a little cage.-"I can't get out-I can't get out," faid the ftarling.

I ftood looking at the bird: and to every perfon who came through the paffage it ran fluttering to the fide towards which they approach'd it, with the fame lamentation of its captivity-"I can't get out," faid the starlingGod help thee! faid I, but I'll let thee out, cost what it will; fo I turn'd about the cage to get to the door; it was twisted and double twisted fo faft with wire, there was no getting it open without pulling the cage to pieces-I took both

hands to it.

The bird flew to the place where I was attempting his deliverance, and thrusting hist B 4 head

head through the trellis, prefs'd his breaft against it, as if impatient-I fear, poor creature! faid I, I cannot fet thee at liberty-"No," said the starling-"I can't get out-I can't get out," faid the ftarling.

I vow, I never had my affections more tenderly awakened; or do I remember an incident in my life, where the diffipated spirits, to which my reafon had been a bubble were fo fuddenly call'd home. Mechanical as the notes were, yet so true in tune to nature were they chanted, that in one moment they overthrew all my fyftematic reasonings upon the Baftile; and I heavily walk'd up ftairs, unfaying every word I had faid in going down thein.

Disguise thyself as thou wilt, ftill flavery! faid Iftill thou art a bitter draught; and though thousands in all ages have been made to drink of thee, thou art no less bitter on that account.-'Tis thou, thrice fweet and gracious goddess, addrefling myfelf to LIBERTY, whom all in public or in private worship, whofe

whose taste is grateful, and ever wilt be fo, till NATURE herself fhall change no tint of words can fpot thy fnowy mantle, or chymic power turn thy fceptre into iron-with thee to finile upon him as he eats his cruft, the swain is happier than his monarch, from whose court thou art exiled-Gracious heaven! cried I, kneeling down upon the laft ftep but one in my ascent-grant me but health, thou great Beftower of it, and give me but this fair goddess as my companion-and fhower down thy mitres, if it feems good unto thy divine provi dence, upon those heads which are aching for

them.

THE CAPTIVE.

PARIS.

THE bird in his cage pursued me into my room; I sat down close to my table, and leaning my head upon my hand, I begun to figure to myself the miseries of confinement. I was

in