ever fince he has been unfettled in her mind, it seems her only confolation-she has never once had the pipe out of her hand, but plays that service upon it almoft night and day.

The poftillion delivered this with fo much difcretion and natural eloquence, that I could not help decyphering fomething in his face above his condition, and should have fifted out his hiftory, had not poor Maria's taken fuch full poffeffion of me.

We had got up by this time almost to the bank where Maria was fitting; the was in a thin white jacket, with her hair, all but two treffes, drawn up into a filk net, with a few olive leaves twisted a little fantastically on one fide-fhe was beautiful; and if ever I felt the full force of an honeft heart-ache, it was the moment I faw her.

-God help her! poor damfel! above a hundred maffes, faid the poftillion, have been faid in the several parish churches and convents around for her; but without effect; we have still hopes, as she is fenfible for fhort intervals, that the Virgin will at last restore her to herself; but her parents, who know her best, are hopeless upon that score, and think her fenfes are loft for ever.

As the poftillion spoke this, Maria made a cadence fo melancholy, fo tender and querulous, that I sprang out of the chaife to help her, and found myself sitting betwixt her and her goat before I relapfed from my enthusiasm.

Maria looked wiftfully for fome time at me, and. then at her goat-and then at me-and then at her goat again, and fo on, alternately

-Well, Maria, faid I foftly-what refemblance do you find?

I do entreat the candid reader to believe me, that it was from the humbleft conviction of what a beast man is,—that I asked the question; and that I would not have let fallen an unfeasonable pleafantry in the venerable presence of Mifery, to be entitled to all the wit that ever Rabelais scattered-and yet I own my heart fmote me, and that I fo fmarted at the very idea of it, that I fwore I would fet up for Wisdom, and utter grave sentences the rest of my days—and

never never attempt again to commit mirth with man, woman, or child, the longest day I had to live. As for writing nonfenfe to them-I believe, there was a referve-but that I leave to the world.

Adieu, Maria!-adieu, poor hapless damfel! fome time, but not now, I may hear thy forrows from thy own lips-but I was deceived; for that moment she took her pipe, and told me such a tale of woe with it, that I rofe up, and with broken and irregular steps, walk'd foftly to my chaise.

T. SHANDY, VOL. IV. c. 83.

MARIA.

MARIA.

MOULINES.

NEVER felt what the distress of plenty was in

any one shape till now-to travel it through the Bourbonnois, the fweetest part of France in the heyday of the vintage, when Nature is pouring her abundance into every one's lap, and every eye is lifted up -a journey, through each step of which Mufic beats time to Labour, and all her children are rejoicing as they carry in their clustersto pafs through this with my affections flying out, and kindling at every group before me and every one of them was pregnant with adventures.

Juft Heaven!

-it would fill up twenty volumes -and alas! I have but a few small pages of this to croud it into-and half these must be taken up with the poor Maria my friend Mr. Shandy met with. near Moulines.

The story he had told of that difordered maid affected me not a little in the reading; but when I got. within the neighbourhood where she lived, it returned so strong into my mind, that I could not refift an impulfe which prompted me to go half a league out of the road, to the village where her parents dwelt, to inquire after her.

'Tis going, I own, like the Knight of the Woeful Countenance, in queft of melancholy adventures

but I know not how it is, but I am never to perfectly conscious of the existence of a foul within me, as when I am entangled in them.

The old mother came to the door; her looks told me the story before the opened her mouth-She had loft her husband; he had died, the faid, of anguish - for the lofs of Maria's fenfes, about a month beforeShe had feared at first, she added, that it would have plundered her poor girl of what little understanding was le-but, on the contrary, it had brought her more to herself-still she could not reft-her poor daughter, she said, crying, was wandering fomewhere about the road

-Why does my pulfe beat languid as I write this; and what made La Fleur, whofe heart feemed only to be tuned to joy, to pafs the back of his hand twice acrofs his eyes, as the woman ftood and told it I beckoned to the poftillion to turn back into the road.

When we had got within half a league of Moulines, at a little opening of the road leading to a thicket, I discovered poor Maria fitting under a poplar-she was fitting with her elbow in her lap, and her head leaning on one fide within her hand;-a finall brook ran at the foot of the tree.

I bid the poftillion go on with the chaife to Moulines, and La Fleur to befpeak my fupper-and that I would walk after him.

She was dreffed in white, and much as my friend defcribed her, except that her hair hung loose, which

before was twisted within a filk net.-She had, fuperadded likewise to her jacket, a pale-green ribband, which fell across her fhoulder to the waift; at the end of which hung her pipe.-Her goat had been as faithlefs as her lover; and she had got a little dog in lieu of him, which she had kept tied by a string to her girdle : as I looked at her dog, fhe drew him towards her with the ftring-"Thou shalt not leave me, Sylvio," faid fhe. I looked in Maria's eyes, and faw fhe was thinking more of her father than of her lover or her little goat, for as fhe uttered them, the tears trickled down her cheeks.

I fat down clofe by her; and Maria let me wipe them away, as they fell, with my handkerchief.-I then steep'd it in my own-and then in her's-and then in mine-and then I wip'd her's again-and as I did it, I felt fuch undescribable emotions within me, as I am fure could not be accounted for from any combinations of matter and motion.

I am pofitive I have a foul; nor can all the books with which materialifts have peftered the world ever convince me to the contrary.

When Maria had come a little to herself, I asked her if the remembered a pale, thin person of a man, who had fat down betwixt her and her goat about two years before? She faid, he was unfettled much at that time but remembered it upon two accountsthat, ill as he was, the faw the perfon pitied her; and next, that her goat had stolen his handkerchief, and fhe had beat him for the theft-she had washed