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 fuch undefcribable emotions within me, as I am fure could not be accounted for from any combinations of matter and motion.

I AM pofitive I have a foul; nor can all the books with which materialifts have peftered the world ever convince me of the contrary.

WHEN Maria had come a little to herfelf, I asked her if fhe remembered a pale thin perfon of a man who had fat down betwixt her and her goat about two years before? She faid, fhe was unfettled much at that time, but remembered it upon two accounts-that ill as fhe was, the faw the perfon pitied her; and next, that her goat had ftolen his handkerchief, and fhe had beaten him for the theftfhe had washed it, the faid, in the brook, and kept it ever fince in her pocket, to restore it to him in cafe she should ever fee him again, which, fhe added, he had half promised her. As fhe told me this, fhe took the handkerchief out of her pocket to let me fee it: fhe had folded it up neatly in a couple of vine leaves, tied round with a tendrilopening it, I faw an S marked in one of the corners.

on

SHE had fince that, she told me, ftrayed as far as Rome, and walked round St. Peter's once-and returned backthat the found her way alone acrofs the Apennines-had travelled over all Lombardy without money-and through the flinty roads of Savoy without fhoes: how she had borne it, and how the had got fupported fhe could not teil-but God tempers the wind, faid Maria, to the fhorn lamb.

SHORN indeed! and to the quick, faid I; and waft thou in my own land, where I have a cottage, I would take thee to it and shelter thee; thou fhouldft eat of my own bread, and drink of my own cup-I would be kind to thy Sylvio-in all thy weaknefes and wanderings I would feek

after

after thee, and bring thee back-when the fun went down I would fay my prayers, and when I had done, thou fhouldit play the evening fong upon thy pipe; nor would the incenfe of my facrifice be worfe accepted, for entering Heaven along with that of a broken heart.

NATURE melted within me, as I uttered this; and Maria obferving, as I took out my handkerchief, that it was steeped too much already to be of use, would needs go wash it in the ftream-And where will you dry it, Maria? faid I—I will dry it in my bofom, faid fhe-it will do me good. AND is your heart ftill fo warm, Maria? faid I.

I TOUCHED upon the ftring on which hung all her forrows-fhe looked with wiftful diforder for fome time in my face; and then, without faying any thing, took her pipe, and played her fervice to the Virgin-The ftring I had touched ceafed to vibrate-in a moment or two Maria returned to herself-let her pipe fall-and rofe up.

AND where are you going, Maria faid I.—She said, to Moulines-Let us go, faid I, together.-Maria put her arm within mine, and lengthening the ftring to let the dog follow-in that order we entered Moulines.

THOUGH I hate falutations and greetings in the marketplace, yet when we got into the middle of this, 1 ftopped to take my last look and last farewell of Maria.

MARIA, though not tall, was nevertheless of the first order of fine forms-affliction had touched her looks with fomething that was fcarce earthly-ftill fhe was feminine: --and fo much was there about her of all that the heart wishes, or the eyes look for in woman, that could the traces be ever worn out of her brain, and thofe of Eliza's out of mine, she should not only eat of my bread and drink of my own cup, but Maria fhould lie in my bofom, and be unto me as a daughter.

ADIEU, poor lucklefs maiden!-imbibe the oil and wine which the compaffion of a ftranger, as he journeyeth on his

way,

wayn

now pours into thy wounds-the Being who has twice bruised thee can only bind them up for ever.

CHAP. XII.

OFT

THE CHAMELEON.

FT has it been my lot to mark
A proud, conceited, talking fpark,
With eyes that hardly ferved at most
To guard their mafter 'gainst a poft;
Yet round the world the blade has been
To fee whatever could-be seen.
Returning from his finish'd tour,
Grown ten times perter than before,
Whatever word you chance to drop,
The travell'd fool your mouth will stop;
"Sir, if my judgment you'll allow-
"I've feen-and fure I ought to know"-
So begs you'd pay a due fubmiffion,
And acquiefce in his decision.

Two travellers of such a caft,
As o'er Arabia's wilds they past,
And on their way in friendly chat
Now talk'd of this, and then of that,
Difcours'd awhile, 'mongst other matter,
Of the Chameleon's form and nature.
"A ftranger animal," cries one,
"Sure never liv'd beneath the fun :
"A lizard's body lean and long,
"A fifh's head, a ferpent's tongue,
"Its tooth, with triple claw disjoin'd;
"And what a length of tail behind!
"How flow its pace! and then its hue!

"Who ever faw fo fine a blue ?"

STERNE.

Hold

"Hold there!" the other quick replies, ""Tis green-I saw it with thete eyes, "As late with open mouth it lay, “And warm'd it in the funny ray; "Stretch'd at its cafe the beaft I view'd, "And faw it eat the air for food."

"I've seen it, Sir, as well as you,

"And muft again affirm it blue;
"At leifure. I the beast survey'd
"Extended in the cooling shade."

"'Tis green! 'tis green! Sir, I affure ye"-
"Green!" cries the other, in a fury-
"Why, Sir, d'ye think I've loft my eyes?"

" "Twere no great lofs," the friend replies.; "For if they always ferve you thus, "You'll find 'em but of little ufe." So high at laft the contest rose, From words they almost came to blows: When luckily came by third; To him the question they referr'd; And begg'd he'd tell 'em, if he knew, Whether the thing was green or blue. "Sirs," cries the umpire,

ceafe your pothos

"The creature's neither one nor t'other.
"I caught the animal last night,
"And view'd it o'er by candle light:
"I mark'd it well-'twas black as jet-
"You ftare-but, Sirs, I've
got it yet,
And can produce it."-" Pray, Sir, do;
"I'll lay my life the thing is blue."
"And I'll be fworn that when you've seen
"The reptile, you'll pronounce him green."
"Well then, at once to ease the doubt,"
Replies the man, "I'll turn him out:

"And

"And when before your eyes I've fet him,
If you don't find him black, Ill eat him."
He faid; then full before their fight
Produc'd the beast, and lo!-'twas white.
Both ftar'd, the man look'd wond'rous wife-
"My children," the Chameleon cries,
(Then first the creature found a tongue,)
"You all are right, and all are wrong:
view,

When next you talk of what you “Think others fee as well as you : "Nor wonder, if you find that none Prefers your eyefight to his own.'

CHAP. XIII.

MERRICK.

THE YOUTH AND THE PHILOSOPHER.

A GRECIAN Youth of talents rare,

Whom Plato's philofophic care

Had form'd for Virtue's nobler view,
By precepts and example too,
Would often boast his matchless skill,
To curb the fteed, and guide the wheel;
And as he pafs'd the gazing throng,

With graceful ease, and smack'd the thong,
The idiot wonder they exprefs'd

Was praife and transport to his breaft.

At length quite vain, he needs would fhew

His mafter what his art could do;

And bade his flaves the chariot lead
To Academus' facred fhade.

The trembling grove confefs'd its fright;
The wood nymphs ftarted at the fight;
The Mufes drop the learned lyre,
And to their inmoft fhades retire.

Howe'er