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THE SUPPER AT THE FRENCH COTTAGE.

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beast; I'm sure thou hast been a merciful master to him." "Alas!" said the mourner, "I thought so when he was alive; but now that he is dead I think otherwise; I fear the weight of myself and my afflictions together have been too much for him; they have shortened the poor creature's days, and I fear I have them to answer for." Shame on the world!" said I to myself. "Did we but love each other as this poor soul loved his ass, 'twould be something."

3. THE SUPPER AT THE FRENCH COTTAGE.-("SENTIMENTAL

JOURNEY.")

A shoe coming loose from the fore foot of the thill-horse at the beginning of the ascent of Mount Taurira, the postillion dismounted, twisted the shoe off, and put it in his pocket. As the ascent was of five or six miles, and that horse our main dependence, I made a point of having the shoe fastened on again as well as we could; but the postillion had thrown away the nails; and the hammer in the chaise-box being of no great use without them, I submitted to go

on.

He had not mounted half a mile higher, when, coming to a flinty piece of road, the poor beast lost a second shoe, and from off his other fore foot. I then got out of the chaise in good earnest; and seeing a house about a quarter of a mile to the left hand, with a great deal to do, I prevailed upon the postillion to turn up to it. The look of the house, and of everything about it, as we drew nearer, soon reconciled me to the disaster. It was a little farmhouse, surrounded with about twenty acres of vineyard, about as much corn, and close to the house, on one side, was a potagerie of an acre and a half, full of everything which could make plenty in a French peasant's house; and on the other side was a little wood, which furnished wherewithal to dress it. It was about eight in the evening when I got to the house, so I left the postillion to manage his point as he could, and for mine, I walked directly into the house.

The family consisted of an old gray-headed man and his wife, with five or six sons and sons-in-law, and their several wives, and a joyous genealogy out of them. They were all sitting down together to their lentil soup; a large wheaten loaf was in the middle of the table; and a flagon of wine at each end of it promised joy through the stages of the repast; 'twas a feast of love. The old man rose up to meet me, and, with a respectful cordiality, would have me sit down at the table; my heart was set down the moment I entered the room so I sat down at once, like a son of the family; and, to invest myself in the character as speedily as I could, I instantly borrowed the old man's knife, and, taking up the loaf, cut myself a hearty luncheon: and, as I did it, I saw a testimony in every eye, not only of an honest welcome, but of a welcome mixed with thanks that I had not seemed to doubt it. Was it this, or, tell me, Nature, what else it was that made this morsel so sweet, and to what magic

I owe it, that the draught I took of their flagon was so delicious with it, that they remain upon my palate to this hour.

If the supper was to my taste, the grace which followed it was much more so. When supper was over, the old man gave a knock upon the table with the haft of his knife, to bid them prepare for the dance the moment the signal was given, the women and girls ran altogether into a back apartment to tie up their hair, and the young men to the door to wash their faces and change their sabots ; and in three minutes, every soul was ready upon a little esplanade before the house to begin. The old man and his wife came out last, and, placing me betwixt them, sat down upon a sofa of turf by the door. The old man had, some fifty years ago, been no mean performer upon the vielle, and, at the age he was then of, touched it well enough for the purpose. His wife sang now and then a little to the tune, then intermitted and joined her old man again as their children and grandchildren danced before them. It was not till the middle of the second dance, when, from some pauses in the movement wherein they all seemed to look up, I fancied I could distinguish an elevation of spirit different from that which is the cause or effect of simple jollity. In a word, I thought I beheld Religion mixing in the dance; but as I had never seen her so engaged, I should have looked upon it now as one of the illusions of an imagination which is eternally misleading me, had not the old man, as soon as the dance ended, said this was their constant way; and that all his life long he had made it a rule, after supper was over, to call out his family to dance and rejoice; believing, he said, that a cheerful and contented mind was the best sort of thanks to Heaven that an illiterate peasant could pay. "Or a learned prelate either," said I.

4. THE MONK.—(“ SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY.”)

A poor monk, of the order of St Francis, came into the room to beg something for his convent. The moment I cast my eyes upon him, I was determined not to give him a single sous; and accordingly I put my purse into my pocket, buttoned 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 deserved better.

The monk, as I judged from the break in his tonsure, a few scattered white hairs upon his temple, being all that remained of it, might be about seventy-but from his eyes, and that sort of fire which was in them, which seemed more tempered by courtesy than years, could be no more than sixty-truth might lie between. He was certainly sixty-five; and the general air of his countenance, notwithstanding something 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,

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pale, penetrating: free from all commonplace ideas of fat, contented ignorance, looking downwards upon the earth-it looked forwards, but looked as if it looked at something beyond this world. of his order came by it, Heaven above, who let it fall upon a monk's shoulders, best knows; but it would have suited a Bramin; and had I met it on the plains of Hindostan, 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 it was neither elegant nor otherwise, but as character and expression made it so. It was a thin, spare form, something above the common size, if it lost not the distinction by a bend forwards in the figure; but it was the attitude of entreaty; and, as it now stands present in my imagination, it gained more than it lost by it.

When he had entered the room three paces, he stood still; and, laying his left hand upon his breast (a slender white staff with which he journeyed 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 simple 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 resource who have no other than the charity of the world; the stock of which, I fear, is no way sufficient for the many great claims which are hourly made upon it."

a coarse

As I pronounced the words great claims, he gave a slight glance, with his eyes downwards, upon the sleeve of his tunic. I felt the full force of the appeal. "I acknowledge it," said I; “ habit, and that but once in three years, with meagre diet, are no great matters. But the true point of pity is, as they can be earned 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 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," instead of the order of St Francis, poor as I am" (continued I, pointing to my portmanteau), "full cheerfully should it have been opened to you for the ransom of the unfortunate." The monk made me a bow. "But," resumed I, "the unfortunate of our own country surely have the first right, and I have left thousands in distress upon the English shore." The monk gave a cordial wave with his hand, 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 hand upon the sleeve of his tunic, in return for his appeal,- 66 we distinguish, my good father, betwixt those who wish to eat only the bread of their own labour, and those who eat the bread of other people, and have no

other plan in life but to get through it in sloth and ignorance for the love of God."

The poor Franciscan made no reply. A hectic of a moment passed across his cheek, but could not tarry. Nature seemed to have done with her resentments in him; he showed none; but letting his staff fall within his arm, he pressed both his hands with resignation upon his breast, and retired. My heart smote me the moment he shut the door. "Pshaw!" said I, with an air of carelessness three several times; but it would not do; every ungracious syllable I had uttered crowded back into my imagination. I reflected I had no right over the poor Franciscan but to deny him, and that the punishment of that was enough to the disappointed, without the addition of the unkind language. I considered his grey hairs; his courteous figure seemed 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 on my travels, and shall learn better manners as I get along."

XII. TOBIAS SMOLLETT.

TOBIAS SMOLLETT was born in Dumbartonshire in 1721, and educated at the University of Glasgow. He was intended for the medical profession; but while at college he had begun to court the Muses, and on completing his studies he repaired to London with a tragedy, the first fruits of his poetry, and by which he doubtless expected to obtain fame and wealth. Completely disappointed in his ambition, he fell back on his medical knowledge, and became surgeon's mate on board a man-of-war, where he saw some actual service, which proved of use to him in his future career as an author. On returning to London, he for some time practised as a physician; but not meeting with much success, he betook himself to authorship, both in prose and verse. He experienced the usual fate of literary men: his exertions were barely sufficient to procure him a comfortable maintenance, while they overtasked his mind and ruined his health. In 1770, he retired to repair his shattered constitution in the milder climate of Italy; but nature was exhausted, and he died at Leghorn in 1771. Of his poetry little is now remembered but his "Ode to Independence,' one of the noblest in the language, and one which the world is not likely soon to "let die." His novels, on which his popularity chiefly rests, are "Roderick Random," " Peregrine Pickle," "Count Fathom," "Launcelot Greaves," and "Humphrey Clinker," of which the first and the last are the most generally admired. He also wrote a "History of Great Britain," part of which is usually appended, by way of continuation, to the History of Hume. It is written with some ability; but was too hurriedly composed to be of much historical value, and suffers much from juxtaposition with Hume. The novels of Smollett display great fertility of invention, much acquaintance with life in

RODERICK RANDOM'S PROGRESS AT SCHOOL.

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all ranks, and a strong sense of the ludicrous; but in the structure of the plot and unity of the work they are inferior to Fielding's, and they outrage all sense of decency and propriety even more grossly than Fielding had done.

1. RODERICK RANDOM'S PROGRESS AT SCHOOL.

I was sent to a school at a village hard by, of which my grandfather had been dictator time out of mind; but as he neither paid for my board nor supplied me with clothes, books, and other necessaries I required, my condition was very ragged and contemptible; and the schoolmaster, who, through fear of my grandfather, taught me gratis, gave himself no concern about the progress I made under his instruction. In spite of all these difficulties and disgraces, I became a good proficient in the Latin tongue; and as soon as I could write tolerably, pestered my grandfather with letters to such a degree, that he sent for my master and chid him severely for bestowing such pains on my education, telling him that if ever I should be brought to the gallows for forgery, which he had taught me to commit, my blood would lie on his head. The pedant, who dreaded nothing more than the displeasure of his patron, assured his honour that the boy's ability was more owing to his own genius and application than to any instruction or encouragement he received; that, although he could not divest him of the knowledge he had already imbibed, unless he would empower him to disable his fingers, he should endeavour, with God's help, to prevent his future improvement. And, indeed, he punctually performed what he had undertaken; for, on pretence that I had writ impertinent letters to my grandfather, he caused a board to be made with five holes in it, through which he thrust the fingers and thumb of my right hand, and fastened it with whip-cord to my wrist in such a manner as effectually debarred me the use of my pen. But this restraint I was freed from in a few days by an accident which happened in a quarrel between me and another boy, who, taking upon him to insult my poverty, I was so incensed at his ungenerous reproach, that with one stroke of my machine I cut him to the skull, to the great terror of myself and school-fellows, who left him bleeding on the ground, and ran to inform the master of what had happened. I was so severely punished for this trespass that, were I to live to the age of Methusalem, the impression it made on me would not be effaced, no more than the antipathy and horror I conceived for the merciless tyrant who inflicted it. The contempt which my appearance naturally produced in all who saw me, the continual wants to which I was exposed, and my own haughty disposition, impatient of affronts, involved me in a thousand troublesome adventures, by which I was at length inured to adversity, and emboldened to undertakings far above my years. I was often inhumanly scourged for crimes I did not commit, because, having the character of a vagabond in the village, every piece of mischief

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