had not done enough before, she made a sort of a little stop to tell me again-she thanked me.

It was a small tribute, I told her, which I could not avoid paying to virtue, and would not be mistaken in the person I had been rendering it to for the world; -but I see innocence, my dear, in your face-and foul befall the man who ever lays a snare in its way.

The girl seemed affected some way or other with what I said;—she gave a low sigh:-I found I was not empowered to inquire at all after it-so said nothing more till I got to the corner of the Rue de Nevers, where we were to part.

-But is this the way, my dear, said I, to the Hotel de Modene? she told me it was-or that I might go by the Rue de Gueneguaud, which was the next turn. -Then I'll go, my dear, by the Rue de Gueneguaud, said I, for two reasons; first, I shall please myself, and next, I shall give you the protection of my company as far on your way as I can. The girl was sensible I was civil-and said, she wished the Hotel de Modene was in the Rue de St. Pierre.-You live there? said 1. -She told me she was fille de chambre to Madam R****.-Good God! said I, 'tis the very lady for whom I have brought a letter from Amiens.-The girl told me that Madam R****, she believed, expected a stranger with a letter, and was impatient to see him: -so I desired the girl to present my compliments to Madam R****, and say, I would certainly wait upon her in the morning.

We stood still at the corner of the Rue de Nevers whilst this passed.-We then stopped a moment whilst she disposed of her Egaremens du Cœur, &c. more commodiously than carrying them in her hand-they were two volumes: so I held the second for her whilst she put the first into her pocket; and then she held her pocket, and I put in the other after it.

'Tis sweet to feel by what fine spun threads our affections are drawn together.

We set off afresh, and as she took her third step, the girl put her hand within my arm.—I was just bidding her but she did it of herself with that undeliberating simplicity, which showed it was out of her head that she had never seen me before. For my own part, I felt the conviction of consanguinity so strongly, that I could not help turning half round to look in her face, and see if I could trace out any thing in it of a family likeness.-Tut! said I, are we not all relations?

When we arrived at the turning up of the Rue de Gueneguaud, I stopped to bid her adieu for good and all the girl would thank me again for my company and kindness. She bid me adieu twice.-I repeated it as often; and so cordial was the parting between us, that had it happened any where else, I'm not sure but I should have signed it with a kiss of charity, as warm and holy as an apostle.

But in Paris, as none kiss each other but the men -I did, what amounted to the same thing-I bid God bless her.

THE PASSPORT.

Paris.

WHEN I got home to my hotel, La Fleur told me I had been inquired after by the Lieutenant de Police.

The deuce take it! said I-I know the reason. It is time the reader should know it, for in the order of things in which it happened, was omitted: not that it was out of my head; but that had I told it then it might have been forgotten now-and now is the time I want it.

I had left London with so much precipitation, that it never entered my mind that we were at war with France; and had reached Dover, and looked through my glass at the hills beyond Boulogne, before the idea presented itself; and with this in its train, that there

was no getting there without a passport. Go but to the end of a street, I have a mortal aversion for returning back no wiser than I set out; and as this was one of the greatest efforts I had ever made for knowledge, I =could less bear the thoughts of it: so hearing the Count de **** had hired the packet, I begged he would take me in his suite. The Count had some little knowledge of me, so made little or no difficultyonly said, his inclination to serve me could reach no farther than Calais, as he was to return by way of -Brussels to Paris; however, when I had once passed there, I might get to Paris without interruption: but that in Paris I must make friends and shift for myself. -Let me get to Paris, Monsieur le Count, said Iand I shall do very well. So I embarked, and never thought more of the matter.

When La Fleur told me the Lieutenant de Police had been inquiring after me-the thing instantly occurred;-and by the time La Fleur had well told me, the master of the hotel came into my room to tell me the same thing, with this addition to it, that my passport had been particularly asked after: the master of the hotel concluded with saying, He hoped I had one. -Not I, faith! said I.

The master of the hotel retired three steps from me as from an infected person, as I declared this-and poor La Fleur advanced three steps towards me, and with that sort of movement which a good soul makes to succour a distressed one ;-the fellow won my heart by it; and from that single trait I knew his character as perfectly, and could rely upon it as firmly, as if he had served me with fidelity for seven years.

Mon seigneur! cried the master of the hotel;-but recollecting himself as he made the exclamation, he instantly changed the tone of it-If Monsieur, said he, has not a passport (apparemment) in all likelihood he has friends in Paris who can procure him one.-Not that I know of, quoth I, with an air of indifference.

Then certes, replied be, you'll be sent to the Ba.tile or the Chatelet au moins.—Poo! said I, the King of France is a good natured soul-he'll hurt nobody.Cela n'empêche pas, said he-you will certainly be sent to the Bastile to-morrow morning.-But I've taken your lodgings for a month, answered I, and I'll not quit them a day before the time for all the kings of France in the world. La Fleur whispered in my ear, That nobody could oppose the king of France.

Pardi! said my host, ces Messieurs Anglois sont des gens très extraordinaires;—and having both said and sworn it-he went out.

THE PASSPORT.

The Hotel at Paris.

I COULD not find in my heart to torture La Fleur's with a serious look upon the subject of my embarrassment, which was the reason I had treated it so cavalierly and to show him how light it lay upon my mind, I dropt the subject entirely; and whilst he waited upon me at supper, talked to him with more than usual gaiety about Paris, and of the opéra comique.— La Fleur had been there himself, and had followed me through the streets as far as the bookseller's shop; but seeing me come out with the young fille de chambre, and that we walked down the Quai de Conti together, La Fleur deemed it unnecessary to follow me a step further;so making his own reflections upon it, he took a shorter cut-and got to the hotel in time to be informed of the affair of the police against my arrival.

As soon as the honest creature had taken away and gone down to sup himself, I then began to think a little seriously about my situation.

-And here, I know, Eugenius, thou wilt smile at the remembrance of a short dialogue which passed be

twixt us the moment I was going to set out:-I must tell it here.

Eugenius, knowing that I was as little subject to be overburthened with money as thought, had drawn me aside to interrogate me how much I had taken care for. Upon telling him the exact sum, Eugenius shook his head, and said it would not do; so pulled out his purse in order to empty it into mine.—I've enough in conscience, Eugenius, said I.-Indeed, Yorick, you have not, replied Eugenius;-I know France and Italy better than you. But you don't consider, Eugenius, said I, refusing his offer, that before I have been three days in Paris, I shall take care to say or do something or other for which I shall get clapped up into the Bastile, and that I shall live there a couple of months entirely at the king of France's expense.I beg pardon, said Eugenius drily: really I had forgot that resource.

Now the event I treated gaily came seriously to my door.

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

-And as for the Bastile! the terror is in the word. -Make the most of it you can, said I to myself, the Bastile is but another word for a tower-and a tower is but another word for a house 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 least for a month or six weeks; at the end of which, if he is a harmless fellow, his innocence appears, and he comes out a better and wiser man than he went in.

I had some occasion (I forget what) to step into the court-yard as I settled this account; and remem