A FRAGMENT

THE town of Abdera, notwithstanding Democritus lived there, trying all the powers of irony and laughter to reclaim it, was the vilest and most profligate town in all Thrace. What for poisons, conspiracies, and assassinations—libels, pasquinades, and tumults, there was no going there by day 'twas worse by night.

Now, when things were at the worst, it came to pass, that the Andromeda of Euripides being represented at Abdera, the whole orchestra was delighted with it: but of all the passages which delighted them, nothing operated more upon their imaginations, than the tender strokes of nature, which the poet had wrought up in that pathetic speech of Perseus, O Cupid, prince of God and men, &c. Every man almost spoke pure iambics the next day, and talk'd of nothing but Perseus his pathetic address-"O Cupid, prince of God and men”—in every street of Abdera, in every house "O Cupid! Cupid!”—in every mouth, like the natural notes of some sweet melody which drops from it whether it will or nonothing but "Cupid! Cupid! prince of God and men "The fire caught-and the whole city, like the heart of one man, open'd itself to Love.

No pharmacopolist could sell one grain of helebore-not a single armourer had a heart to forge one instrument of death-Friendship and Virtue met together, and kiss'd each other in the street— the golden age returned, and hung over the town of Abdera-every Abderite took his oaten pipe, and every Abderitish woman left her purple web, and chastely sat her down and listened to the song

'Twas only in the power, says the Fragment, of the God whose empire extendeth from heaven to earth, and even to the depths of the sea, to have done this.

W

MONTRIUL

HEN all is ready, and every article is disputed and paid for in the inn, unless you are a little sour'd by the adventure, there is always a matter to compound at the door, before you can get into your chaise, and that is with the sons and daughters of poverty, who surround you. Let no man say, "let them go to the devil "'tis a cruel journey to send a few miserables, and they have had sufferings enow without it: I always think it better to take a few sous out in my hand; and I would counsel every gentle traveller to do so likewise; he need not be so exact in setting down his

motives for giving them—They will be register'd elsewhere.

For my own part, there is no man gives so little as I do; for few, that I know, have so little to give: but as this was the first public act of my charity in France, I took the more notice of it.

A well-a-way! said I, I have but eight sous in the world, shewing them in my hand, and there are eight poor men and eight poor women for 'em.

A poor tatter'd soul, without a shirt on, instantly withdrew his claim, by retiring two steps out of the circle, and making a disqualifying bow on his part. Had the whole parterre cried out, Place aux dames, with one voice, it would not have conveyed the sentiment of a deference for the sex with half the effect.

Just Heaven! for what wise reasons hast thou ordered it, that beggary and urbanity, which are at such variance in other countries, should find a way to be at unity in this ?

-I insisted upon presenting him with a single sous, merely for his politesse.

A poor little dwarfish, brisk fellow, who stood over-against me in the circle, putting something first under his arm, which had once been a hat, took his snuff-box out of his pocket, and generously

offer'd a pinch on both sides of him: it was a gift of consequence, and modestly declined-The poor little fellow press'd it upon them with a nod of welcomeness-Prenez en prenez, said he, looking another way; so they each took a pinch-Pity thy box should ever want one, said I to myself; so I put a couple of sous into it-taking a small pinch out of his box to enhance their value, as I did it. He felt the weight of the second obligation more than of the first 'twas doing him an honour-the other was only doing him a charity— and he made me a bow down to the ground for it.

-Here! said I to an old soldier with one hand, who had been campaign'd and worn out to death in the service- here's a couple of sous for thee. Vive le Roi! said the old soldier.

I had then but three sous left: so I gave one, simply pour l'amour de Dieu, which was the footing on which it was begg'd-The poor woman had a dislocated hip; so it could not be well upon any other motive.

Mon cher et tres charitable Monsieur-There's no opposing this, said I.

My Lord Anglois the very sound was worth the money-so I gave my last sous for it. But in the eagerness of giving, I had overlooked a pauvre honteux, who had no one to ask a sous for