ebbs and flows of our humours; they may depend upon the fame caufes, for aught I know, which influence the tides themfelves-twould oft be no difcredit to us, to fuppofe it was fo: I'm fure, at leaft for myself, that in many a cafe 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 fhame," than have it pafs altogether as my own act and deed, wherein there was fo 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 fingle 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 fomething, 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 fcattered white hairs upon his temples being all that remained of it, might be about feventybut from his eyes, and that fort of fire that was in them, which feemed 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 something feemed to have been planting wrinkles in it be fore their time, agreed to the account.

It was one of thofe heads which Guido has often painted-mild, pale-penetrating,-free from all com

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 fomething 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 ftrokes; one might put it into the hands of any one to defign, for 'twas neither elegant or otherwife but as character and expreffion made it fo: it was a thin, fpare form, fomething above the common fize, if it lost not the distinction by a bend forward in the figure -but it was the attitude of intreaty; and as it now stands prefent to my imagination, it gain'd more than it loft by it.

When he had entered the room three paces, he stood ftill; and laying his left hand upon his breaft (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 ftory of the wants of his convent, and the poverty of his order--and did it with fo fimple a grace-and fuch an air of deprecation was there in the whole caft of his look and figure -I was bewitched not to have been ftruck with it.

A better reafon was, I had predetermined not to give him a fingle fous.

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 fource

who have no other but the charity of the world, the stock of which, I fear, is no way fufficient for the many great c'a ms 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 tunic-I felt the full force of the appeal— I acknowledge it, faid 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 industry, that your order should wish to procure them by preffing 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 afflic-. tions, 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 fhould it have been opened to you, for the ranfom of the unfortunate-The Monk made me a bow-but of all others, refumed I, the unfortunate of our own country, furely, have the first rights; and I have left thousands in distress upon our own fhore-The Monk gave a cordial wave with his head-as much as to fay, No doubt, there is mifery enough in every corner of the world, as well as within our convent-But we diftinguifh, faid I, laying my hard upon the fleeve of his tunic, in return for his appeal--we diftinguifh, my good father, betwixt those who with only to eat the bread of their own labour-and those who eat the bread of other

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people's and have no other plan in life, but to get through it in floth and ignorance, for the love of Ged.

The poor Franciscan made no reply; a hectic of a moment pafs'd across his cheek, but could not tarry Nature feemed to have done with her refentments in him; he fhewed none-but letting his staff fall within his arm, he prefs'd both his hands with refignation upon his breaft, and retired.

My heart fmote me the moment he flut the door-Pfha! faid I, with an air of careleffnefs, three feveral times-but it would not do: every un-' gracious fyllable I had uttered, crouded 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 language-I confidered 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 ufe him thus ?—I would have given twenty livres for an advocate-I have behaved very ill, faid I within myfelf; but I have only just fet out upon my travels; and fhall learn better manners as I get along.

SENT. JOUR. r. 5..

THE MONK.

HE good old Monk was within fix paces of us,

THE

as the idea of him cross'd my mind; and was advancing towards us a little out of the line, as if uncertain whether he should break in upon us or no. -He stopp'd, however, as foon as he came up to us, with a world of franknefs; and having a horn fnuffbox in his hand, he presented it open to me-You shall taste mine-said I, pulling out my box (which was a small tortoife one)-putting it into his hand'Tis most excellent, faid 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, fometimes recollect it was the peace-offering of a man who once ufed you unkindly, but not from his heart.

The poor · Monk blush'd as red as scarlet. Mon Dieu! faid he, preffing his hands together-you never used me unkindly.1 fhould think, faid 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.Excufe me, Madam, replied I,-I treated him most unkindly; and from no provocation. 'Tis impoffible, faid the lady. My God! cried the Monk with a warmth of affeveration which feem'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 impoffible that a fpirit fo regulated as his could give offence to any.