treffes, drawn up into a filk net, with a few olive leaves twifted a little fantastically on one fide-she 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 feveral parish churches and convents around, for her,but without effect; we have ftill hopes, as she is fenfible for short intervals, that the Virgin at laft will reftore her to herfelf; but her parents who know her best, are hopeless upon that score, and think her fenfes are loft for evered pad to pi

As the poftillion fpoke this, Maria made a cadence fo melancholy, so tender and querulous, that I fprung out of the chaife to help her, and found myself fitting betwixt her and her goat before I relapsed from my enthusiasm.

Maria look'd 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 refem blance 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 afk'd the queftion; and that I would not have let fallen an unfeasonable pleafantry in the venerable prefence of Mifery, to be entitled to all the wit that ever Rabelais fcattered-and yet I own my heart fmote me, and that I so smarted at the very idea of it, that I fwore I would fet up for wisdom, and utter grave fentences the rest of my days—and never -never attempt again to commit mirth with man, woman, or child, the longest day I hadi to live. dose dquords

As for writing nonsense to them-I believe, ɔ there was a referve but that, I leave to thei: 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 fhe took her pipe and told me fuch a tale of woe with it, that I rofe up, and with broken and irregular fteps walk'd foftly to my chaife.

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

MARI A.

I

MOULINES.

NEVER felt what the diftrefs of plenty was in any one shape till now-to travel it through the Bourbonnois, the sweetest part of France-in the hey-day 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 cluftersto pass 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 left of this to crowd it into-and half of thefe must be taken up with the poor Maria my friend Mr. Shandy met with near Moulines.

The story he had told of that disordered maid affected me not a little in the reading; but when

I got within the neighbourhood where the lived, it returned fo 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 enquire 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 fo perfectly confcious of the exiftence of a foul within me, as when I am entangled in them.

The old mother came to the door, her looks told me the ftory before the opened her mouth

-She had lost her husband: he had died, fhe faid, of anguish, for the lofs of Marta's fenfes, about a month before-She had feared at firft, fhe added, that it would have plundered her poor girl of what little understanding was left

but, on the contrary, it had brought her more to herself-ftill fhe could not reft-her poor daughter, fhe faid, 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

feemed only to be tun'd to joy, to pass the backof his hand twice acrofs his eyes, as the woman. stood 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 in the road leading to a thicket, I discovered poor Maria fitting under a poplar-fhe was fitting with her elbow in her lap, and her head leaning on one fide within her hand-a small 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 loofe, which before was twisted within a filk-net.

She had, fuperadded likewife to her jacket, a pale green riband, which fell across her fhoulder to the waist; at the end of which hung her pipe. Her goat had been as faithlefs as her

-

lover; and fhe 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 to

wards