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THE SHORN LAMB.

She was dressed in white, and much as my friend described her, except that her hair hung loose, which before was twisted within a silk net. She had superadded likewise to her jacket a pale green ribband, which fell across her shoulder to the waist; at the end of which hung her pipe. Her goat had been as faithless 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, she drew him towards her with the string. "Thou shalt not. leave me, Sylvio," said she. I looked in Maria's eyes, and saw she was thinking more of her father than of her lover or her little goat; for, as she uttered them, the tears trickled down her cheeks.

I sat down close by her; and Maria let me wipe them away, as they fell, with my handkerchief. I then steeped it in my own, and then in hers, and then in mine, and then I wiped hers again; and as I did it, I felt such indescribable emotions within me as, I am sure, could not be accounted for from any combinations of matter and motion.

I am positive I have a soul; nor can all the books with which materialists have pestered the world ever convince me to the contrary.

When Maria had come a little to herself, I asked her if she remembered a pale thin person of a man who had sat betwixt her and her goat about two years before? She said she was unsettled much at that time, but remembered it upon two accounts,—that ill as she was, she saw the person pitied her, and next, that her goat had stolen his handkerchief, and she had beat him for the theft. She had washed it, she said, in the brook, and kept it ever since in her pocket, to restore it to him in case she should ever see him again, which, she added, he had half promised her. As she told me this, she took the handkerchief out of her pocket to let. me see it; she had folded it up neatly in a couple of vine-leaves, tied round with a tendril; on opening it, I saw an S marked in one of the

corners.

She had since that, she told me, strayed as far as Rome, and walked round St Peter's once, and returned back; that she found her way alone across the Apennines, had travelled over all Lombardy without money, and through the flinty roads of Savoy without shoes; how she had borne it, and how she got supported, she could not tell; "but God tempers the wind," said Maria, "to the shorn lamb."

"Shorn, indeed, and to the quick," said I; "and wast thou in my own

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land, where I have a cottage, I would take thee to it, and shelter thee. Thou shouldst eat of my own bread, and drink of my own cup. I would be kind to thy Sylvio in all thy weaknesses and wanderings. I would seek after thee, and bring thee back. When the sun went down, I would say my prayers. And when I had done, thou shouldst play thy evening song upon thy pipe; nor would the incense of my sacrifice be worse accepted for entering heaven along with that of a broken heart."

Nature melted within me as I uttered this; and Maria observing, as I took out my handkerchief, that it was steeped too much already to be of use, would needs go wash it in the stream. "And where will you dry it, Maria ?" said I. "I'll dry it in my bosom," said she; "twill do me good." "And is your heart still warm, Maria ?" said I.

I touched upon the string on which hung all her sorrows; she looked with wistful disorder for some time in my face; and then, without saying anything, took her pipe, and played her service to the Virgin. The string I had touched ceased to vibrate; in a moment or two Maria returned to herself, let her pipe fall, and rose up.

"And where are you going, Maria?" said I. She said, to Moulins. "Let us go,” said I, "together." Maria put her arm within mine, and, lengthening the string to let the dog follow, in that order we entered Moulins.

Though I hate salutations and greetings in the market place, yet, when we got into the middle of this, I stopped to take my last farewell of Maria.

Maria, though not tall, was nevertheless of the first order of fine forms; affliction had touched her looks with something that was scarce earthly; still she was feminine, and so much was there about her of all that the heart wishes, or the eye looks for in woman, that, could the traces be ever worn out of her brain, and those of Eliza out of mine, she should not only eat of my bread and drink of my own cup, but Maria should lie in my bosom, and be unto me as a daughter.

Adieu, poor, luckless maiden! Imbibe the oil and wine which the compassion of a stranger, as he journeyeth on his way, now pours into thy wounds; the being who has twice bruised thee can only bind them up for ever.

IT

THE DEATH OF LE FEVRE.*

T was some time in the summer of that year in which Dendermond was taken by the allies-which was about seven years before my father came into the country-and about as many after the time that my Uncle Toby and Trim had privately decamped from my father's house in town, in order to lay some of the finest sieges to some of the finest fortified cities in Europe-when my Uncle Toby was one evening getting his supper, with Trim sitting behind him at a small sideboard-I say sitting, for in consideration of the corporal's lame knee (which sometimes gave him exquisite pain)-when my Uncle Toby dined or supped alone, he would never suffer the corporal to stand; and the poor fellow's veneration for his master was such that, with a proper artillery, my Uncle Toby could have taken Dendermond itself, with less trouble than he was able to gain this point over him; for many a time when my Uncle Toby supposed the corporal's leg was at rest, he would look back and detect him standing behind him with the most dutiful respect; this bred more little squabbles betwixt them than all other causes for five and twenty years together. But this is neither here nor there: why do I mention it? Ask my pen; it governs me; I govern not it.

He was one evening thus sitting at his supper, when the landlord of a little inn in the village came into the parlour with an empty phial in his hand, to beg a glass or two of sack. ""Tis for a poor gentleman—I think, of the army," said the landlord-" who has been taken ill at my house four days ago, and has never held up his head since, or had a desire to taste anything, till just now, that he has a fancy for a glass of sack and a thin toast. I think,' says he, taking his hand from his forehead, it would comfort me.'

"If I could neither beg, borrow, nor buy such a thing," added the landlord, "I would almost steal it for the poor gentleman, he is so ill. I hope in God he will still mend," continued he; we are all of us concerned for him."

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*From the "Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy," c. xlix. to liii. inclusive. (Ed. 1788, Works of Sterne, vol. iii.)

TRIM AND UNCLE TOBY.

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"Thou art a good-natured soul, I will answer for thee,” cried my Uncle Toby; "and thou shalt drink the poor gentleman's health in a glass of sack thyself; and take a couple of bottles with my service, and tell him he is heartily welcome to them, and to a dozen more if they will do him good."

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Though I am persuaded," said my Uncle Toby, as the landlord shut the door, "he is a very compassionate fellow, Trim, yet I cannot help entertaining a high opinion of his guest, too; there must be something more than common in him, that in so short a time he should win so upon the affections of his host." "And of his whole family," added the corporal, "for they are all concerned for him." "Step after him," said my Uncle Toby; "do, Trim; and ask if he knows his name."

"I have quite forgot it, truly," said the landlord, coming back into the parlour with the corporal; "but I can ask his son again." "Has he a son with him, then?" said my Uncle Toby. "A boy," replied the landlord, "of about eleven or twelve years of age; but the poor creature has tasted almost as little as his father; he does nothing but mourn and lament for him night and day. He has not stirred from the bedside these two days."

My Uncle Toby laid down his knife and fork, and thrust his plate from before him as the landlord gave him the account; and Trim, without being ordered, took away, without saying one word, and in a few minutes. after brought him his pipe and tobacco.

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Stay in the room a little," said my Uncle Toby.

Trim," said my Uncle Toby, after he lighted his pipe and smoked about a dozen whiffs. Trim came in front of his master, and made his bow; my Uncle Toby smoked on and said no more. "Corporal!" said my Uncle Toby; the corporal made his bow. My uncle proceeded no farther, but finished his pipe.

"Trim," said my Uncle Toby, “I have a project in my head, as it is a bad night, of wrapping myself up warm in my roquelaure, and paying a visit to this poor gentleman." "Your honour's roquelaure," replied the corporal, “has not once been on since the night before your honour received your wound, when we mounted guard in the trenches before the gate of St Nicholas; and besides, it is so cold and rainy a night, that what with the roquelaure, and what with the weather, 'twill be enough to give

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THE CORPORAL'S STORY.

your honour your death, and bring on your honour's torment in your groin.'

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I fear so," replied my Uncle Toby, "but I am not at rest in my mind, Trim, since the account the landlord has given me. I wish I had not known so much of the affair," added my Uncle Toby, "or that I had known more of it. How shall we manage it ?" "Leave it, an 't please your honour, to me," quoth the corporal; "I'll take my hat and stick and go to the house and reconnoitre, and act accordingly; and I will bring your honour a full account in an hour." "Thou shalt go, Trim,” said my Uncle Toby, "and here's a shilling for thee to drink with his servant." "I shall get it all out of him," said the corporal, shutting the door.

My Uncle Toby filled his second pipe; and had it not been that he now and then wandered from the point, with considering whether it was not full as well to have the curtain of the tennaile a straight line as a crooked one, he might be said to have thought of nothing else but poor Le Fevre and his boy the whole time he smoked it.

It was not until my Uncle Toby had knocked the ashes out of his third pipe, that Corporal Trim returned from the inn and gave him the following account.

"I despaired at first," said the corporal, "of being able to bring back your honour any kind of intelligence concerning the poor sick lieutenant." Is he in the army, then?" said my Uncle Toby. "He is," said the corporal. "And in what regiment?" said my Uncle Toby. "I'll tell your honour," replied the corporal, "everything straightforward, as I learnt it." "Then, Trim, I'll fill another pipe," said my Uncle Toby, "and not interrupt thee till thou hast done; so sit down at thy ease, Trim, in the window seat, and begin thy story again." The corporal made his old bow, which generally spoke as plain as a bow can speak-Your honour is good; and having done that, he sat down, as he was ordered, and began the story to my Uncle Toby over again in pretty near the same words.

"I despaired, at first," said the corporal," of being able to bring back "of any intelligence to your honour about the lieutenant and his son; for when I asked where his servant was, from whom I made myself sure of knowing everything which was proper to be asked "

"That's a right distinction, Trim," said my Uncle Toby.

"I was answered, an' please your honour, that he had no servant

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