mined not to give him a single fous, and accordingly I put my purfe into my pocket -button'd it up-set myself a little more upon my centre, and advanced up gravely to him: there was something, I fear, forbidding in look: my I have his figure this moment before my eyes, and think there was that in it which deferved better.

The monk, as I judged from the break in his tonfure, a few scatter'd white hairs upon his temples being all that remained of it, might be about seventy-but from his eyes, and that fort of fire which was in them, which seemed more temper'd by courtesy than years, could be no more than fixty-Truth might lie between-He was certainly fixty-five; and the general air of his countenance, notwithstanding fomething feem'd to have been planting wrinkles in it before their time, agreed to the account.

It was one of those heads which Guido has often painted-mild, pale-penetrating, free from all common-place ideas of fat contented ignorance looking downwards upon the earth-it look'd forwards; but look'd, as if it look'd at something

beyond this world. How one of his order came by it, Heaven above, who let it fall upon a monk's fhoulders, beft knows; but it would have fuited a Bramin; and had I met it upon the plains of Indoftan, I had reverenced it.

The reft of his outline may be given in a few ftrokes; one might put it into the hands of any one to defign, for 'twas neither elegant or otherwise, but as character and expreffion made it fo: it was a thin, spare form, fomething above the common fize, if it loft not the diftinction by a bend forward in the figure-but it was the attitude of Intreaty; and as it now ftands rrefented to my imagination, it gained more than it loft by it.

When he had entered the room three paces, he ftood ftill; and laying his left hand upon his breaft, (a flender white ftaff with which he journey'd being in his right) when I had got close up to him, he introduced himself with the little ftory of the wants of his convent, and the poverty of his order and did it with fo fimple a grace-and such an air of depre cation was there in the whole caft of his

look and figure-I was bewitch'd not to have been ftruck with it

-A better reafon was, I had prede termined not to give him a fingle fous.

THE MONK.

CALAIS.

1

TIS very true, faid I, replying to

a caft upwards with his eyes, with which he had concluded his addrefs-'tis very true - and Heaven be their resource who have no other but the charity of the world, the ftock of which, I fear, is no

ay fufficient for the many great claims which are hourly made upon it.

As I pronounced the words great claims, he gave a flight glance with his eye downwards upon the fleeve of his tunick—I felt the full force of the appeal—I acknowledge it, said I a coarse habit, and that but once in three years, with meagre diet -are no great matters; and the true point of pity is, as they can be earn'd in the world with fo little induftry, that your order should wish to procure them,

by pressing upon a fund which is the property of the lame, the blind, the aged, and the infirm the captive who lies down counting over and over again the days of his afflictions, languishes also for his share of it; and had you been of the` order of mercy, inftead of the order of St. Francis, poor as I am, continued I, pointing at my portmanteau, full, cheerfully should it have been open'd to you, for the ransom of the unfortunate - The monk made me a bow-But of all others, refumed I, the unfortunate of our own country, furely, have the firft rights; and I have left thousands in distress upon our own fhore The monk gave a cordial as much as to say, No doubt, there is mifery enough in every corner of the world, as well as within our convent - But we diftinguish, faid I, laying my hand upon the fleeve of his tunick, in return for his appeal→ we diftinguish, my good father! betwixt those who wish only to eat the bread of their own labour and those who eat the bread of other people's, and have no other plan in life, but to get through it

wave with his head

in floth and ignorance, for the love of

God.

The poor Franciscan made no reply: a hectick of a moment pass'd across his cheek, but could not tarry― Nature seemed to have had done with her refentments in him; he fhewed none. but letting his ftaff fall within his arm, he prefs'd both his hands with refignation upon his breast, and retired.d

THE MONK.

CALAIS.

My heart fmote me the moment he

fhut the door-Pfha! faid I, with an air of carelessness, three several times - but it would not do: every ungracious fyllable I had utter'd, crowded back into my imagination: I reflected, I had no right over the poor Francifcan, but to deny him; and that the punishment of that was enough to the disappointed without the addition of unkind languageI confider'd his grey hairs his courteous figure feem'd to reenter and gently ask