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ebbs and flows of our humours; they may depend upon the same causes, for aught I know, which influence the tides themselves'twould oft be no difcredit to us, to suppose it was fo: I'm sure, at leaft for myself, that in many a case I should be more highly satisfied to have it said by the world, “ I had " had an affair with the moon, in which there was " neither fin nor shame," than have it pass altogether as my own act and deed, wherein there was so much of both.
--But be this as it may: the moment I caft my eyes upon him, I was predetermined not to give him a single fous, and accordingly I put my purse 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 my look : 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 scattered white hairs upon his temples being all that remained of it, might be about seventybut from his eyes, and that fort of fire that 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 fome
thing seemed 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 cons
mon-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, best knows : but it would have fuited a Bramin, and had I met it upon the plains of Indoftan, I had reverenced it.
The rest of his outline may be given in a few strokes; one might put it into the hands of any one to design, for 'twas neither elegant or otherwife but as character and expression made it fo: it was a thin, spare form, fomething above the common size, if it loft not the diftinction by a bend forward in the figure -but it was the attitude of intreaty; and as it now stands present to my imagination, it gain'd more than it loft by it.
When he had entered the room three paces, he stood still; and laying his left hand upon his breast (a flender white staff with which he journey'd being in his right)--when I had got close up to him, he introduced himself with the little story of the wants of his convent, and the poverty of his order and did it with so fimple a grace-and such an air of deprecation was there in the whole cast of his look and figure I was bewitched not to have been struck with it.
A better reason was, I had predetermined not to give him a single sous.
'Tis very true, said I, replying to a cast upwards with his eyes, with which he had concluded his address-'tis very true and Heaven be their fource
who have no other but the charity of the world, the stock of which, I fear, is no way sufficient for the many greai ms which are hourly made upon
it. As I pronounced the words great claims, he gave a Night glance with his eye downwards upon the fleeve of his tunic-I felt the full force of the appealI acknowledge it, said 1,-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 so little industry, that your order should wish to procure them by pressing upon a fund which is the property of the lanie, the blind, the aged, and the infirm--the captive who lies down counting over and over again the days of his afflictions, languishes alfo for his share of it ; and had you been of the order of mercy, instead of the order of St. Francis, poor as I am, continued I, pointing at my portmanteau, full cheerfully flould it have been opened to you, for the ransom of the unfortunateThe Monk made me a bow_but of all others, resumed I, the unfortunate of our own country, surely, have the first rights; and I have left thousands in distress upon our own floren-The Monk gave a cordial wave with his head as much as to say, No doubt, there is misery enough in every corner of the world, as well as within our convent-But we distinguish, said I, laying my hard upon the sleeve of his tunic, in return for his appeal ---we distinguish, my good father, betwixt those who will 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 in floth and ignorance, for the love of God.
The poor Franciscan made no reply; a hectic of a moment pafs'd across his cheek, but could not tarry
Nature seemed to have done with her resentments in him; he fhewed none-but letting his staff fall within his arm, he press'd both his hands with Jesignation upon his breaft, and retired.
My heart smote me the moment he fiut the door-Pfha! faid 1, with an air of carelessness, thrée several times but it would not do: every uno' gracious syllable I had uttered, crouded back into my imagination ;-I reflected I had no right over the poor Franciscan, but to deny him: and that the punishunent of that was enough to the disappointed, without the addition of unkind language I considered his grey hairs his courteous figure feem'd to re-enter and gently ask me, what injury he had done me and why I could use him thus ?-I would have given twenty livres for an advocate- I have behaved
very ill, said I within myself; but I have only just set out upon my travels; and fall learn better manners as I get along,
SENT. JOUR. P. 5.
NHE good old Monk was within fix paces of us,
; advancing towards us a little out of the line, as if un. certain whether he should break in upon us or no. -He stopp'd, however, as soon as he came up to us, with a world of frankness; and having a horn snuffbox in his hand, he presented it open to me-You shall taste mine-said I, pulling out my box (which was a small tortoise one)-putting it into his hand'Tis moft excellent, said the Monk: Then do me the favour, I replied, to accept of the box and all, and when you take a pinch out of it, sometimes recolle& it was the peace-offering of a man who once ufed you unkindly, but not from his heart.
The poor Monk blusb'd as red as scarlet. Mon Dieu! said he, pressing his hands together--you never used me unkindly.--I should think, said the lady, he is not likely. I blush'd in my turn; but from what movements, I leave to the few who feel to analyse. Excuse me, Madam, replied II treated him moft unkindly; and from no provocation. 'Tis impossible, said the lady-My God! cried the Monk with a warmth of affeveration which seem'd not to belong to him--the fault was in me, and in the indiscretion of my zeal-the lady opposed it, and I joined with her in maintaining, it was impossible that a spirit so regu. lated as bis could give offence to any.