my life which gave me half the pleafure.

My advice, my dear, would not have been worth a pin to you, faid I, if I had not given this along with it: but now, when you fee the crown, you'll remember it—fo don't, my dear, lay it out in ribbands.

Upon my word, Sir, faid the girl, earnestly, I am incapable-in faying which, as is ufual in little bargains of honour, fhe gave me her hand-En verité, Monfieur, je mettrai cet argent apart, faid the.

When a virtuous convention is made betwixt man and woman, it fanctifies their moft private walks: fo notwithftanding it was dufky, yet as both our roads lay the fame way, we made no fcruple of walking along the Quai de Conti together.

She made me a fecond courtesy in setting off, and before we got twenty yards from the door, as if she had not done enough before, fhe made a fort of a little ftop to tell me again-fhe thank'd me.

It was a small tribute, I told her, which I could not avoid paying to virtue, and would not be mistaken in the perfon I had been rendering it to for the world-but I fee innocence, my dear, in your face and foul befal the man who ever lays a fnare in its way!

The girl feem'd affected some way or other with what I faid-fhe gave a low figh-I found I was not impowered to inquire at all after it-fo faid nothing more till I got to the corner of the Rue de Nevers, where we were to part.

-But is this the way, my dear, faid I to the Hotel de Modene? fhe told me it was-or, that I might go by the Rue de Gueneguault, which was the next turn. Then I'll go, my dear, by the Rue de Gueneguault, faid I, for two reafons; first I fhall please myself, and next I fhall give you the protection of my company as far on your way as I can. The girl was fenfible I was civil-and faid, fhe wifh'd the Hotel de Modene was in the Rue de St. Pierre-You live there? faid I-She told me the was

fille de chambreto Madame R****—Good God! faid I, 'tis the very lady for whom I have brought a letter from AmiensThe girl told me that Madame R****, the believed, expected a stranger with a letter, and was impatient to see him -fo I defired the girl to present my compliments to Madame R ****, and fay I would certainly wait upon her in the morning.

We ftood ftill at the corner of the Rue de Nevers whilft this pass'd-We then stopped a moment whilft the dif pofed of her Egarements du Cœur, &c. more commodiously than carrying them in her hand-they were two volumes, fo I held the fecond for her whilst she put the first into her pocket; and then the held her pocket, and I put in the other after it.

'Tis fweet to feel by what fine-fpun threads our affections are drawn together.

We fet off afresh, and as fhe took her third step, the girl put her hand within my arm-I was just bidding her

but fhe did it of herself with that undeliberating fimplicity, which fhew'd it was out of her head that fhe had never feen me before. For my own part, I felt the conviction of confanguinity fo ftrongly, that I could not help turning half round to look in her face, and fee if I could trace out any thing in it of a family likeness-Tut! faid I, are we not all relations?

When we arrived at the turning up of the Rue de Gueneguault, I ftopp'd to bid her adieu for good and all: the girl would thank me again for my company and kindness-She bid me adieu twice-I repeated it as often; and fo cordial was the parting between us, that had it happened any where elfe, I'm not fure but I fhould have figned it with a kifs of charity, as warm and holy as an apostle.

But in Paris, as none kiss each other but the men-I did, what amounted to the fame thing

I bid God blefs her.

THE PASSPORT.

PARIS.

WHEN I got home to my hotel, Le

Fleur told me I had been enquir

ed after by the Lieutenant de PoliceThe deuce take it! faid II know the reafon. It is time the reader should know it, for in the order of things in which it happened, it was omitted; not that it was out of my head; but that, had I told it then, it might have been forgot now and now is the time I want

it.

I had left London with fo much precipitation, that it never enter'd my mind that we were at war with France; and had reached Dover, and looked through my glass at the hills beyond Boulogne, before the idea prefented itself, and with this in its train, that there was no getting there without a paffport. Go but to the end of a street, I have a mortal averfion for returning back no wifer than