betwixt the German's arm and his body, trying first on one side, then the other; but the German stood square in the most unaccommodating posture that can be imagined:-the dwarf might as well have been placed at the bottom of the deepest draw-well in Paris; so he civilly reached up his hand to the German's sleeve, and told him his distress.-The German turned his head back, looked down upon him as Goliath did upon David-and unfeelingly resumed his posture.

I was just then taking a pinch of snuff out of my monk's little horn box.-And how would thy meek and courteous spirit, my dear monk! so tempered to bear and forbear!-how sweetly would it have lent an ear to this poor soul's complaint!

The old French officer, seeing me lift up my eyes with an emotion, as I made the apostrophe, took the liberty to ask me what was the matter.-I told him the story in three words; and added, how inhuman it

was.

By this time the dwarf was driven to extremes, and in his first transports, which are generally unreasonable, had told the German he would cut off his long queue with his knife.—The German looked back coolly, and told him he was welcome, if he could reach it.

An injury sharpened by an insult, be it to whom it will, makes every man of sentiment a party: I could have leaped out of the box to have redressed it.-The old French officer did it with much less confusion; for leaning a little over, and nodding to a sentinel, and pointing at the same time with his finger at the distress -the sentinel made his way to it.-There was no occasion to tell the grievance-the thing told itself; so thrusting back the German instantly with his musket -he took the poor dwarf by the hand, and placed him before him. This is noble! said I, clapping my hands together. And yet you would not permit this, said the old officer, in England.

ease.

-In England, dear Sir, said I, we sit all at our

The old French officer would have set me at unity with myself, in case I had been at variance,--by saying it was a bon mot;—and, as a bon mot is always worth something at Paris, he offered me a pinch of snuff.

THE ROSE.

Paris.

IT was now my turn to ask the old French officer "What was the matter?" for a cry of "Haut les mains, Monsieur l'Abbé," reechoed from a dozen different parts of the parterre, was as unintelligible to me, as my apostrophe to the monk had been to him.

He told me it was some poor Abbé in one of the upper loges, who he supposed had got planted perdu behind a couple of grisettes in order to see the opera, and that the parterre espying him, were insisting upon his holding up both his hands during the representation. -And can it be supposed, said I, that an ecclesiastic would pick the grisettes' pockets? The old French officer smiled, and whispering in my ear, opened a door of knowledge which I had no idea of.

Good God! said I, turning pale with astonishment -is it possible, that a people so smit with sentiment should at the same time be so unclean, and so unlike themselves-Quelle grosièreté! added I.

The French officer told me, it was an illiberal sarcasm at the church, which had begun in the theatre about the time the Tartuffe was given in it by Molière: but, like other remains of Gothic manners, was declining.-Every nation, continued he, have their refinements and grosièretés, in which they take the lead, and lose it of one another by turns:-that he had been in most countries, but never in one where he

found not some delicacies, which others seemed to want. Le pour et le contre se trouvent en chaque nation; there is a balance, said he, of good and bad every where; and nothing but the knowing it is so, can emancipate one half of the world from the prepossession which it holds against the other:-that the advantage of travel, as it regarded the savoir vivre, was by seeing a great deal both of men and manners: it taught us mutual toleration; and mutual toleration, concluded he, making me a bow, taught us mutual love.

The old French officer delivered this with an air of such candour and good sense, as coincided with my first favourable impressions of his character :—1 thought I loved the man; but I fear I mistook the object; 'twas my own way of thinking-the difference was, I could not have expressed it half so well.

It is alike troublesome to both the rider and his beast-if the latter goes pricking up his ears, and starting all the way at every object which he never saw before. I have as little torment of this kind as any creature alive; and yet I honestly confess, that many a thing gave me pain, and that I blushed at many a word the first month--which I found inconsequent and perfectly innocent the second.

Madame de Rambouillet, after an acquaintance of about six weeks with her, had done me the honour to take me in her coach about two leagues out of town. -Of all women, Madame de Rambouillet is the most correct; and I never wish to see one of more virtues and purity of heart.-In our return back, Madame de Rambouillet desired me to pull the cord-I asked her if she wanted any thing.-Rien que de pisser, said Madame de Rambouillet.

Grieve not, gentle traveller, to let Madam de Rambouillet piss on.- -And ye fair mystic nymphs! go each one pluck your rose, and scatter them in your path-for Madame de Rambouillet did no more.-I handed Madame de Rambouillet out of the coach; and

had I been the priest of the chaste Castalia, I could not have served at her fountain with a more respectful decorum.

THE FILLE DE CHAMBRE.

Paris.

WHAT the old French officer had delivered upon traveling, bringing Polonius's advice to his son upon the same subject into my head—and that bringing in Hamlet, and Hamlet the rest of Shakspeare's works, I stopped at the Quai de Conti in my return home, to purchase the whole set.

The bookseller said he had not a set in the world. -Comment! said I, taking one up out of a set which lay upon the counter betwixt us. He said they were sent him only to be got bound, and were to be sent back to Versailles in the morning to the Count de B****.

And does the Count de B****, said I, read Shakspeare? C'est un esprit fort, replied the bookseller. He loves English books! and what is more to his honour, Monsieur, he loves the English too.You speak this so civilly, said I, that it is enough to oblige an Englishman to lay out a Louis d'or or two at your shop. The bookseller made a bow, and was going to say something, when a young decent girl about twenty, who by her air and dress seemed to be fille de chambre to some devout woman of fashion, came into the shop and asked for Les Egarements du Cœur et de l'Esprit: the bookseller gave her the book directly; she pulled out a little green satin purse run round with a riband of the same colour, and putting her finger and thumb into it, she took out the money, and paid for it. As I had nothing more to stay me in the shop, we both walked out at the door together.

-And what have you to do, my dear, said I, with

The Wanderings of the Heart, who scarce know yet you have one? nor, till love has first told you it, or some faithless shepherd has made it ache, canst thou ever be sure it is so.-Le Dieu m'en garde! said the girl. With reason, said I, for if it is a good one, 'tis pity it should be stolen; 'tis a little treasure to thee, and gives a better air to your face, than if it was dressed out with pearls.

The young girl listened with a submissive attention, holding her satin purse by its riband in her hand all the time.-'Tis a very small one, said I, taking hold of the bottom of it-(she held it towards me)-and there is very little in it, my dear, said I; but be but as good as thou art handsome, and heaven will fill it. I had a parcel of crowns in my hand to pay for Shakspeare; and, as she had let go the purse entirely, I put a single one in; and, tying up the riband in a bow knot, returned it to her.

The young girl made me more a humble courtesy than a low one:-' :-'twas one of those quiet, thankful sinkings, where the spirit bows itself down-the body does no more than tell it. I never gave a girl a crown in my life which gave me half the pleasure.

My advice, my dear, would not have been worth a pin to you, said I, if I had not given this along with it: but now, when you see the crown, you'll remember it: -so don't, my dear, lay it out in ribands.

Upon my word, Sir, said the girl, earnestly, I am incapable; in saying which, as is usual in little bargains of honour, she gave me her hand :-En vérité, Monsieur, je mettrai cet argent àpart, said she.

When a virtuous convention is made betwixt man and woman, it sanctifies their most private walks: so notwithstanding it was dusky, yet as both our roads lay the same way, we made no scruple of walking along the Quai de Conti together.

She made me a second courtsey in setting off, and before we got twenty yards from the door, as if she