tures-but by none so little as the ftanding so many months unpitied in the corner of Monf. Deffein's coachyard. Much indeed was not to be said for it—but something might-and when a few words will rescue mifery out of her distress, I hate the man who can be a churl of them.

-Now, was I the master of this hotel, faid I, laying the point of my fore-finger on Mr. Deffein's breaft, I would inevitably make a point of getting rid of this unfortunate Defobligeant-it ftands swinging reproaches at you every time you pass by it.

Mon Dieu! faid Monf. Deffein-I have no intereft-Except the intereft, faid I, which men of a certain turn of mind take, Monf. Deffein, in their own sensations I'm perfuaded, to a man who feels for others as well as for himself, every rainy night, disguise it as you will, muft caft a damp upon your fpirits-You fuffer, Monf. Deffein, as much as the machine

I have always obferved, when there is as much four as fweet in a compliment, that an Englishman is eternally at a loss within himself, whether to take it, or let

Vol. I.

E.

it alone: a Frenchman never is: Monf. Deffein made me a bow.

C'eft bien vrai, said he—But in this case, I should only exchange one disquietude for another, and with loss: figure to yourself, my dear Sir, that in giving you a chaife which would fall to pieces before you had got half way to Paris-figure to yourself how much I should suffer, in giving an ill impreffion of myself to a man of honour, and lying at the mercy, as I must do, d'un homme d'efprit.

The dose was made up exactly after my own prefcription; so I could not help taking it—and returning Monf. Deffein his bow; without more cafuiftry we walk'd together towards his Remise, to take a view of his magazine of chaises.

IN THE STREET.

CALAIS.

IT muft needs be a hoftile kind of a world, when the buyer (if it be but of a forry poft-chaife) cannot go forth with the feller thereof into the ftreet to terminate

the difference betwixt them, but he inftantly falls into the fame frame of mind, and views his conventionift with the fame fort of eye, as if he was going along with him to Hyde-park-corner to fight a duel. For my own part, being but a poor fword'smàn, and no way a match for Monfieur Deffein, I felt the rotation of all the movements within me, to which the fituation is incident-I looked at Monfieur Deffein through and through-ey'd him as he walk'd along, in profile-then, en face→ thought he look'd like a Jew-then a Turk difliked his wig-curfed him by my gods-wifhed him at the devil

-And is all this to be lighted up in the heart for a beggarly account of three or four louis-d'ors, which is the moft I can be over-reached in?-Base passion! faid I, turning myself about, as a man naturally does upon a fudden reverse of fentiment - base, ungentle passion! thy hand is agáinft every man, and every man's hand against thee - Heaven forbid! said fhe, raising her hand up to her forehead, for I had turned full in front upon the lady I whom I had feen in conference with the

monk-she had followed us unperceived -Heaven forbid, indeed! said I, offering her my own-she had a black pair of filk gloves, open only at the thumb and two fore-fingers, lo accepted it without reserve -and I led her up to the door of the Remife.

Monfieur Deffein had diabled the key above fifty times before he found out he had come with a wrong one in his hand: we were as impatient as himself to have it opened; and so attentive to the obftacle, that I continued holding her hand, almost without knowing it; fo that Monfieur Deffein left us together with her hand in mine, and with our faces turned towards the door of the Remife, and faid he would be back in five minutes.

Now, a colloquy of five minutes, in fuch a fituation, is worth one of as many ages, with your faces turned towards the ftreet: in the latter cafe, 'tis drawn from the objects and occurrences without when your eyes are fixed upon a dead blank-you draw purely from yourselves. A filence of a fingle moment upon Monf. Deffein's leaving us, had been fatal to

the fituation-she had infallibly turned about-fo I begun the conversation inRantly

-But what were the temptations, (as I write not to apologize for the weaknes. fes of my heart in this tour,-but to give an account of them)-shall be defcribed with the fame fimplicity, with which I felt them.

.. THE REMISE DOOR.

WH

CALAIS.

HEN I told the reader that I did not care to get out of the Defobligeant, because I saw the monk in close conference with a lady juft arrived at the innI told him the truth; but I did not tell him the whole truth; for I was full as much reftrained by the appearance and figure of the lady he was talking to. Sufpicion croffed my brain, and said, he was telling her what had passed; something jarred upon it within me—I wished him at his convent.

When the heart flies out before the