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shop, and how that had impelled me rather to go to him with the story of a little embarrassment I was under, than to any other man in France.

"And what is your embarrassment? let me hear it," said the Count. So I told him the story just as I have told it the reader.

-"And the master of my hotel," said I, as I concluded it, "will needs have it, Monsieur le Count, that I shall be sent to the Bastile; but I have no apprehensions," continued I;

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for, in falling into the hands of the most polished people in the world, and being conscious I was a true man, and not come to spy the nakedness of the land, I scarce thought I lay at their mercy. It does not suit the gallantry of the French, Monsieur le Count," said I, "to show it against invalids."

An animated blush came into the Count de B's cheeks as I spoke this. "Ne craignez

rien. Don't fear," said he.

"Indeed I don't," replied I again. "Besides," continued I, a little sportingly, "I have come laughing all the way from London

to Paris, and I do not think Monsieur le Duc de Choiseul is such an enemy to mirth as to send me back crying for my pains." -"My application to you, Monsieur le Count de B," making him a low bow, "is to desire he will not."

The Count heard me with great goodnature, or I had not said half as much; and once or twice said, "C'est bien dit." So I rested my cause there, and determined to say no more about it.

The Count led the discourse: we talked of indifferent things; of books, and politics, and men-and then of women. "God bless them all!" said I, after much discourse about them; "there is not a man upon earth who loves them so much as I do: after all the foibles I have seen, and all the satires I have read against them, still I love them; being firmly persuaded that a man who has not a sort of affection for the whole sex, is incapable of ever loving a single one as he ought."

"Eh bien! Monsieur l'Anglois," said the Count gaily; "you are not come to spy the

nakedness of the land; I believe you; ni encore, I dare say, that of our women; but permit me to conjecture,—if, par hazard, they fell into your way, that the prospect would not affect you."

I have something within me which cannot bear the shock of the least indecent insinuation in the sportability of chit-chat I have often endeavoured to conquer it, and with infinite pain have hazarded a thousand things to a dozen of the sex together,—the least of which I could not venture to a single one to gain heaven.

"Excuse me, Monsieur le Count," said I; "as for the nakedness of your land, if I saw it, I should cast my eyes over it with tears in them; and for that of your women," blushing at the idea he had excited in me, “I am so evangelical in this, and have such a fellowfeeling for whatever is weak about them, that I would cover it with a garment, if I knew how to throw it on; but I could wish," continued I, "to spy the nakedness of their hearts, and through the different disguises of customs, climates, and religion, find out what is good

in them to fashion my own by; and therefore am I come.

"It is for this reason, Monsieur le Count," continued I," that I have not seen the Palais Royal, nor the Luxembourg, nor the Façade of the Louvre, nor have attempted to swell the catalogues we have of pictures, statues, and churches. I conceive every fair being as a temple, and would rather enter in, and see the original drawings and loose sketches hung up in it, than the transfiguration of Raphael itself.

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"The thirst of this," continued I, as impatient as that which inflames the breast of the connoisseur, has led me from my own home into France; and from France will lead me through Italy: 'tis a quiet journey of the heart in pursuit of Nature, and those affections which arise out of her, which make us love each other—and the world, better than we do."

The Count said a great many civil things to me upon the occasion; and added very politely, how much he stood obliged to Shakespere for making me known to him.

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'But, à propos,” said he, "Shakespere is full of great things; he forgot a small punctilio of announcing your name: it puts you under a necessity of doing it yourself."

THE PASSPORT.

VERSAILLES.

THERE is not a more perplexing affair in life to me, than to set about telling any one who I am, for there is scarce anybody I cannot give a better account of than myself; and I have often wished I could do it in a single word, and have an end of it. It was the only time and occasion in my life I could accomplish this to any purpose; for Shakespere lying upon the table, and recollecting I was in his books, I took up Hamlet, and turning immediately to the grave-digger's scene, in the fifth act, I laid my finger upon Yorick, and advancing the book to the Count, with my

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