grandest the lightest-the longest-the broadest that ever conjoined land and land together upon the face of the terraqueous globe—

[By this it seems as if the author of the fragment had not been a Frenchman.]

The worst fault which divines and the doctors of the Sorbonne can alledge against it, is, that if there is but a cap full of wind in or about Paris, 'tis more blasphemously sacre Dieu'd there than in any other aperture of the whole city-and with reason good and cogent, Messieurs: for it comes against you without crying garde d'eau, and with. such unpremeditable puffs, that of the few who cross it with their hats on, not one in fifty but hazards two livres and a half, which is its full worth.

The poor notary, just as he was passing by the sentry, instinctively clapped his cane to the side of it; but in raising it up, the point of his cane catching hold of the loop of the centinel's hat, hoisted it over the spikes of the ballustrade clear into the Seine.

'Tis an ill wind, said a boatman who catched it, which blows nobody any good.

The centinel being a Gascon, incontinently

twirled

twirled up his whiskers, and levelled his har

quebuss.

Harquebusses in those days went off with matches; and an old woman's paper lantern at the end of the bridge happening to be blown out, she had borrowed the centinel's match to light itit gave a moment's time for the Gascon's blood to run cool, and turn the accident better to his advantage-'Tis an ill wind, said he, catching off the notary's castor, and legitimating the capture with the boatman's adage.

The poor notary crossed the bridge, and passing along the Rue de Dauphine into the fauxbourg of St. Germain, lamented himself as he walked along in this manner :

Luckless man, that I am! said the notary, to be the sport of hurricanes all my days-to be born to have the storm of ill language levelled against me and my profession wherever I go-to be forced into marriage by the thunder of the church to a tempest of a woman-to be driven forth out of my house by domestic winds, and despoiled of castor by pontific ones-to be here bare-headed in a windy night, at the mercy of the ebbs and flows of accidents-where am I to lay my head?-miserable man!-what wind in the two-and-thirty

my

points of the whole compass can blow unto thee, as it does to the rest of thy fellow-creatures, good!

As the notary was passing on by a dark passage, complaining in this sort, a voice called out to a girl, to bid her run for the next notary-now the notary being the next, and availing himself of his situation, walked up the passage to the door, and passing through an old sort of a saloon, was ushered into a large chamber dismantled of every thing but a long military pike, a breast-plate, a rusty old sword, and bandolier, hung up equidistant in four different places against the wall.

An old personage, who had heretofore been a gentleman, and unless decay of fortune taints the blood along with it, was a gentleman at that time, lay supporting his head upon his hand in his bed; a little table with a taper burning was set close beside it, and close by the table was placed a chairthe notary sat him down in it, and pulling out his ink-horn, and a sheet or two of paper which he had in his pocket, he placed them before him, and dipping his pen in his ink, and leaning his breast over the table, he disposed every thing to make the gentleman's last will and testament.

Alas! Monsieur le Notaire, said the gentleman, raising himself up a little, I have nothing to bequeath

queath which will pay the expence of bequeathing, except the history of myself, which I could not die in peace unless I left as a legacy to the world -the profits arising out of it I bequeath to you for the pains of taking it from me—it is a story so uncommon, it must be read by all mankindit will make the fortunes of your house—the notary dipped his pen into his ink-horn-Almighty Director of every event in my life! said the old gentleman, looking up earnestly and raising his hands towards heaven-thou whose hand has led me on through such a labyrinth of strange passages down into this scene of desolation, assist the decaying memory of an old, infirm, and brokenhearted man-direct my tongue by the spirit of thy eternal truth, that this stranger may set down nought but what is written in that Book, from whose records, said he, clasping his hands together, I am to be condemned or acquitted!The notary held up the point of his pen betwixt the taper and his eye

It is a story, Monsieur le Notaire, said the gentleman, which will rouse up every affection in na ture-it will kill the humane, and touch the heart of cruelty herself with pity.→→

The notary was inflamed with a desire to begin,

and

and put his pen a third time into his ink-hornand the old gentleman turning a little more towards the notary, began to dictate his story in these words

-And where is the rest of it, La Fleur? said I, as he just then entered the room.

THE FRAGMENT,

AND THE BOUQUET*.

WHEN

PARIS.

La Fleur came up close to the table, and was made to comprehend what I wanted, he told me there were only two other sheets of it, which he had wrapt round the stalks of a bouquet, to keep it together, which he had presented to the demoiselle upon the BoulevardsThen pr'ythee, La Fleur, said I, step back to her to the Count de B****'s hotel, and see if you can get it-There is no doubt of it, said La Fleur--and away he few.