possibly overset both in his new vineyard; and by discovering his nakedness, become a laughing-stock to his people.

Even so it fares with the poor Traveller, sailing and posting through the politer kingdoms of the globe, in pursuit of knowledge and improve

ments.

Knowledge and improvements are to be got by sailing and posting for that purpose; but whether useful knowledge and real improvements, is all a lottery-and even where the adventurer is successful, the acquired stock must be used with caution and sobriety, to turn to any profit--but as the chances run prodigiously the other way, both as to the acquisition and application, I am of opinion, That a man would act as wisely, if he could prevail upon himself to live contented without foreign knowledge or foreign improvements, especially if he lives in a country that has no absolute want of either—and indeed, much grief of heart has it oft and many a time cost me, when I have observed how many a foul step the inquisitive Traveller has measured to see sights and look into discoveries; all which, as Sancho Pança said to Don Quixote, they might have seen dry-shod at home. It is an age so full of light, that there is scarce a country or corner of Europe, whose beams are not crossed and interchanged with

others- -Knowledge in most of its branches, and in most affairs, is like music in an Italian street, whereof those may partake, who pay nothing- -But there

is no nation under heaven-and GOD is my record (before whose tribunal I must one day come and give an account of this work) that I do not speak it vauntingly-But there is no nation under heaven abounding with more variety of learning—where the sciences may be more fitly woo'd, or more surely won, than here—where art is encouraged, and will soon rise high-where Nature (take her altogether) has so little to answer for—and, to close all, where there is more wit and variety of character to feed the mind with—Where then, my dear countrymen, are you going

-We are only looking at this chaise, said they-Your most obedient servant, said I, skipping out of it, and pulling off my hat-We were wondering, said one of them, who, I found, was an inquisitive Traveller,-what could occasion its motion. 'Twas the agitation, said I coolly, of writing a preface. -I never heard, said the other, who was a simple Traveller, of a preface wrote in a Desobligeant.-It would have been better, said I, in a Vis à Vis.

As an Englishman does not travel to see Englishmen, I retired to my room.

I

CALAIS

PERCEIVED that something darken'd the passage more than myself, as I stepp'd along it to my room; it was effectually Mons. Dessein, the master of the hôtel, who had just returned from vespers, and, with his hat under his arm, was most complaisantly following me, to put me in mind of my wants. I had wrote myself pretty well out of conceit with the Desobligeant; and Mons. Dessein speaking of it, with a shrug, as if it would no way suit me, it immediately struck my fancy that it belong'd to some innocent Traveller, who, on his return home, had left it to Mons. Dessein's honour to make the most of. Four months had elapsed since it had finished its career of Europe in the corner of Mons. Dessein's coach-yard; and having sallied out from thence but a vampt-up business at the first, though it had been twice taken to pieces on Mount Sennis, it had not profited much by its adventures-but by none so little as the standing so many months unpitied in the corner of Mons. Dessein's coach-yard. Much indeed was not to be said for it—but something might—and when a few words will rescue misery out of her distress, I hate the man who can be a churl of them.

-Now was I the master of this hôtel, said I, laying the point of my fore-finger on Mons. Dessein's breast, I would inevitably make a point of getting rid of this unfortunate Desobligeant-it stands swinging reproaches at you every time you pass by it.

Mon Dieu! said Mons. Dessein-I have no interest-Except the interest, said I, which men of a certain turn of mind take, Mons. Dessein, in their own sensations—I'm persuaded, to a man who feels for others as well as for himself, every rainy night, disguise it as you will, must cast a damp upon your spirits-You suffer, Mons. Dessein, as much as the machine

I have always observed, when there is as much sour as sweet in a compliment, that an Englishman is eternally at a loss within himself, whether to take it or let it alone: a Frenchman never is: Mons. Dessein made me a bow.

C'est bien vrai, said he-But in this case I should only exchange one disquietude for another, and with loss figure to yourself, my dear Sir, that in giving you a chaise which would fall to pieces before had got got half way to Paris-figure to yourself how much I should suffer, in giving an ill impression of myself to a man of honour, and lying at the mercy, as I must do, d'un homme d'esprit.

you

The dose was made up exactly after my own prescription; so I could not help taking it-and returning Mons. Dessein his bow, without more casuistry we walk'd together towards his Remise, to take a view of his magazine of chaises.

IN THE STREET

CALAIS

T must needs be a hostile kind of a world, when the buyer (if it be but of a sorry post-chaise)

IT

cannot go forth with the seller thereof into the street, to terminate the difference betwixt them, but he instantly falls into the same frame of mind, and views his conventionist with the same sort of eye, as if he was going along with him to Hyde-park-corn to fight a duel. For my own part, being but a poor swordsman, and no way a match for Monsieur Dessein, I felt the rotation of all the movements within me, to which the situation is incident I looked at Monsieur Dessein through and through-eyed him as he walk'd along in profile- then, en facethought he look'd like a Jew-then a Turk—disliked his wig-cursed him by my gods-wished him at the devil

And is all this to be lighted up in the