TH MARIA MOULINES HO' I hate salutations and greetings in the market-place, yet when we got into the middle of this, I stopp'd to take my last look and last farewel of Maria. Maria, though not tall, was nevertheless of the first order of fine forms- -affliction had touch'd her looks with something that was scarce earthly still she was feminine-and so much was there about her of all that the heart wishes, or the eye looks for in woman, that could the traces be ever worn out of her brain, and those of Eliza out of mine, she should not only eat of my bread and drink of my own cup, but Maria should lie in my bosom, and be unto me as a daughter. Adieu, poor luckless maiden!—Imbibe the oil and wine which the compassion of a stranger, as he journeyeth on his way, now pours into thy wounds the Being who has twice bruised thee can only bind them up for ever. TH THE BOURBONNOIS HERE was nothing from which I had painted out for myself so joyous a riot of the affections, as in this journey in the vintage, through this part of France; but pressing through this gate of sorrow to it, my sufferings have totally unfitted me: in every scene of festivity I saw Maria in the background of the piece, sitting pensive under her poplar; and I had got almost to Lyons before I was able to cast a shade across her. -Dear sensibility! source inexhausted of all that's precious in our joys, or costly in our sorrows! thou chainest thy martyr down upon his bed of straw -and 'tis thou who lift'st him up to HEAVEN-Eternal fountain of our feelings!—'tis here I trace thee— and this is thy "divinity which stirs within me”. not that in some sad and sickening moments, “my soul shrinks back upon herself, and startles at destrucmere pomp of words!-but that I feel some generous joys and generous cares beyond myself -all comes from thee, greatgreat SENSORIUM. of the world! which vibrates, if a hair of our heads but falls upon the ground, in the remotest desert of, thy creation- -Touch'd with thee, Eugenius draws my curtain when I languish-hears my tale of tion symptoms, and blames the weather for the disorder of his nerves. Thou giv'st a portion of it sometimes to the roughest peasant who traverses the bleakest mountains he finds the lacerated lamb of another's flock -This moment I beheld him leaning with his head against his crook, with piteous inclination looking down upon it!-Oh! had I come one moment sooner!-it bleeds to death-his gentle heart bleeds with it walkest off with anguish Peace to thee, generous swain !—I see thou -but thy joys shall balance it— -for happy is thy cottage and happy is the and happy are the lambs which sport sharer of it about you. A THE SUPPER SHOE coming loose from the fore-foot of the thill-horse, at the beginning of the ascent of mount Taurira, the postillion dismounted, twisted the shoe off, and put it in his pocket; as the ascent was of five or six miles, and that horse our main dependence, I made a point of having the shoe fasten'd on again, as well as we could; but the postillion had thrown away the nails, and the hammer in the chaise-box being of no great use without them, I submitted to go on. |