As the notary was paffing on by a dark paffage, complaining in this fort, a voice call'd out to a girl, to bid her run for the next notary- now the notary being the next, and availing himself of his fituation, walk'd up the paffage to the door, and paffing through an old fort of a faloon, was ufher'd into a large chamber dismantled of every thing but a long military pike-a breast plate—a rusty old sword, and bandoleer, hung up equi-diftant in four different places against the wall.

his

An old perfonage, who had heretofore been a gentleman, and, unless decay of fortune taints the blood along with it, was a gentleman at that time, lay fupporting his head upon hand in his bed; a little table with a taper burning was fet clofe befide it, and close by the table was placed a chair-the notary fat him down in it; and pulling out his ink-horn and a fheet 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 difpofed every thing

to make the gentleman's laft will and testa

ment.

Alas? Monfieur le Notaire, faid the gentleman, raising himself up a little, I have nothing to bequeath which will pay the expence of bequeathing, except the hiftory of myself, which 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 ftory fo uncommon, it must be read by all mankind-it will make the fortunes of your house the notary dipp'd his pen into his ink-horn- Almighty director of every event in my life! faid the old gentleman, looking up earnestly and raifing his hands towards heaven-thou whofe hand has led me on through fuch a labyrinth of firange paffages down into this fcene of defolation, affift the decaying memory of an old, infirmi, and broken-hearted man-direct my tongue, by the fpirit of thy eternal truth, that this ftranger may fet down naught but what is written in that Book, from whose records,

faid he, clafping his hands together, I am to be condemn'd or acquitted!the notary held up the point of his pen betwixt the taper and his

eye

-It is a flory, Monfieur le Notaire, faid the gentleman, which will roufe up every affection in nature-it will kill the humane, and touch the heart of cruelty herself with pity

-The notary was inflamed with a defire to begin, and put his pen a third time into his ink-horn-and the old gentleman turning a little more towards the notary, began to dictate his ftory in these words

-And where is the reft of it, La Fleur? faid I, as he just then enter'd the room.

THE

THE FRAGMENT.

AND

THE BOUQUET.

PARIS.

WHEN La Fleur came up close to the table,

and was made to comprehend what I wanted, he told me there were only two other fheets of it which he had wrapt round the flalks of a bouquet to keep it together, which he had prefented to the Demoiselle upon the boulevardsThen, prithee, La Fleur, faid I, ftep back to her to the Count de B's hôtel, and fee if thou canst get-There is no doubt of it, faid La Fleur-and away he flew.

In a very little time the poor fellow came back quite out of breath, with deeper marks of disappointment in his looks than could arise from the fimple irreparability of the fragmentFufte Ciel! in less than two minutes that the poor fellow had taken his laft tender farewel of her his faithlefs miftrefs had given his gage

d'amour

d'amour to one of the Count's footmen-the footman to a young fempftrefs- and the fempftrefs to a fiddler, with my fragment at the end of it-Our misfortunes were involved together I gave a figh- and La Fleur echo'd it back again to my ear

-How perfidious! cried La Fleur-How unlucky! faid I.

I should not have been mortified, Monfieur, quoth La Fleur, if she had loft it-Nor I, La Fleur, faid I, had I found it.

Whether I did or no will be feen hereafter.

THE ACT OF CHARITY.

PARIS.

THE

HE man who either difdains or fears to walk up a dark entry may be an excellent good man, and fit for a hundred things; but he will not do to make a good fentimental traveller. I count little of the many things I see pass at broad noon day, in large and open fireets.-Nature