looking down upon his own-But a word, Monf. Yorick, to the wife And from the wife, Monf. le Count, replied I, making him a bow-is enough. The Count de Faineant embraced me with more ardour than ever I was embraced by mortal man. For three weeks together, I was of every man's opinion I met.-Pardi! ce Monf. Yorick a autant d'efprit que nous autres.- Il raifonne bien, faid another.-Ceft un bon enfant, faid a third. And at this price I could have eaten and drank and been merry all the days of my life at Paris; but 'twas a difhoneft reckoning. I grew afhamed of it—it was the gain of a flave every fentiment of honour revolted against it the higher I got, the more was I forced upon my beggarly fyftem-the better the Coterie the more children of Art- I languifh'd for those of Nature: and one night, after a most vile proftitution of myself to half 19 a dozen a dozen different people, I grew fick—went to bed-order'd La Fleur to get me horses in the morning to fet out for Italy. MARI A. MOULINE S. I NEVER NEVER felt what the diftrefs of plenty was in any one fhape till now-to travel it through the Bourbonnois, the fweetest part of France in the hey-day of the vintage, when Nature is pouring her abundance into every one's lap, and every eye is lifted up-a journey through each step of which mufic beats time to Labour, and all her children are rejoicing as they carry in their cluftres-to pafs through this with my affections flying out, and kindling at every group before me-and every one of them was pregnant with adventures. Juft heaven!-it would fill up twenty volumes and alas! I have but a few finall pages left of this to croud it into-and half of thefe muft be taken up with the poor Maria my friend, Mftr. Shandy, met with near Moulines. The ftory he had told of that disorder'd maid affected me not a little in the reading; but when I got within the neighbourhood where fhe lived, it returned fo ftrong into my mind, that I could not refift an impulfe which prompted me to go half a league out of the road to the village where her parents dwelt to enquire after her. 'Tis going, I own, like the Knight of the Woeful Countenance, in quest of melancholy adventures-but I know not how it is, but I am never fo perfectly conscious of the existence of a foul within me, as when I am entangled in them. The old mother came to the door, her looks told me the ftory before the open'd her mouth -She had loft her husband; he had died, fhe faid, of anguish, for the lofs of Maria's fenses about a month before.-She had feared at first, fhe added, that it would have plunder'd her poor poor girl of what little understanding was left -but, on the contrary, it had brought her more to herfelf-ftill fhe could not reft- her poor daughter, she said, crying, was wandering fomewhere about the road -Why does my pulfe beat languid as I write this? and what made La Fleur, whofe heart feem'd only to be tuned to joy, to pass the back of his hand twice acrofs his eyes, as the woman flood and told it? I beckon'd to the poftilion to turn back into the road. When we had got within half a league of Moulines, at a little opening in the road leading to a thicket, I discovered poor Maria fitting under a poplar-fhe was fitting with her elbow in her lap, and her head leaning on one fide within her hand-a fmall brook ran at the foot of the tree. I bid the poftilion go on with the chaise to Moulines and La Fleur to befpeak my fupper -and that I would walk after him. She She was drefs'd in white, and much as my friend described her, except that her hair hung loofe, which before was twisted within a filk net. She had, fuperadded likewife to her jacket, a pale green ribband which fell across her fhoulder to the waift; at the end of which hung her pipe. Her goat had been as faithlefs as her lover; and fhe had got little dog a in lieu of him, which she had kept tied by a ftring to her girdle; as I look'd at her dog, fhe drew him towards her with the firing."Thou shalt not leave me, Sylvio," faid fhe. I look'd in Maria's eyes, and faw fhe was thinking more of her father than of her lover or her little goat; for as fhe utter'd them the tears trickled down her cheeks. I fat down clofe by her; and Maria let me wipe them away as they fell with my handkerchief. I then fleep'd it in my own-and then in hers--and then in mine- and then I wip'd hers again--and as I did it, I felt fuch undefcribable emotions within me, as I am fure |