- and bid adieu.
IN THE STREET. CALAIS.
I never finished a twelve
guineabargain so expeditiously in my
life: my time seemed heavy, upon the loss of the lady, and knowing
every moment of it would be as two, till I put myself into motion,
- I ordered post horses directly, and walked towards the hotel.
Lord! said I,
hearing the town clock strike four, and recollecting
that I had been little more than a single hour in Calais, -
- What a large
volume of adventures may be grasped within this
little span of life by him who interests his heart in every thing,
and who, having eyes to see what time and chance are perpetually
holding out to him as he journeyeth on his way, misses nothing he
can FAIRLY lay his hands on!
- If this won't turn out something, - another will; - no matter, -
'tis an assay upon human nature - I get my labour for my pains, -
'tis enough; - the pleasure of the experiment has kept my senses
and the best part of my blood awake, and laid the gross to sleep.
I pity the man who can travel from Dan to Beersheba, and cry, 'Tis
all
barren; - and so it is: and so is all the world to him who will
not
cultivate the fruits it offers. I declare, said I, clapping my
hands
cheerily together, that were I in a desert, I would find out
wherewith in it to call forth my affections: - if I could not do
better, I would
fasten them upon some sweet
myrtle, or seek some
melancholy
cypress to connect myself to; - I would court their
shade, and greet them kindly for their
protection. - I would cut my
name upon them, and swear they were the loveliest trees throughout
the desert: if their leaves wither'd, I would teach myself to
mourn; and, when they
rejoiced, I would
rejoice along with them.
The
learned Smelfungus travelled from Boulogne to Paris, - from
Paris to Rome, - and so on; - but he set out with the spleen and
jaundice, and every object he pass'd by was discoloured or
distorted. - He wrote an
account of them, but 'twas nothing but the
account of his
miserable feelings.
I met Smelfungus in the grand portico of the Pantheon: - he was
just coming out of it. - 'Tis nothing but a huge cockpit, said he:
- I wish you had said nothing worse of the Venus of Medicis,
replied I; - for in passing through Florence, I had heard he had
fallen foul upon the
goddess, and used her worse than a common
strumpet, without the least
provocation in nature.
I popp'd upon Smelfungus again at Turin, in his return home; and a
sad tale of
sorrowful adventures had he to tell, "wherein he spoke
of moving accidents by flood and field, and of the cannibals that
each other eat: the Anthropophagi:" - he had been flayed alive, and
bedevil'd, and used worse than St. Bartholomew, at every stage he
had come at. -
- I'll tell it, cried Smelfungus, to the world. You had better
tell it, said I, to your physician.
Mundungus, with an
immense fortune, made the whole tour; going on
from Rome to Naples, - from Naples to Venice, - from Venice to
Vienna, - to Dresden, to Berlin, without one
generousconnection or
pleasurable
anecdote to tell of; but he had travell'd straight on,
looking neither to his right hand nor his left, lest Love or Pity
should seduce him out of his road.
Peace be to them! if it is to be found; but heaven itself, were it
possible to get there with such tempers, would want objects to give
it; every gentle spirit would come flying upon the wings of Love to
hail their
arrival. - Nothing would the souls of Smelfungus and
Mundungus hear of, but fresh anthems of joy, fresh raptures of
love, and fresh congratulations of their common
felicity. - I
heartily pity them; they have brought up no faculties for this
work; and, were the happiest
mansion in heaven to be allotted to
Smelfungus and Mundungus, they would be so far from being happy,
that the souls of Smelfungus and Mundungus would do
penance there
to all eternity!
MONTREUIL.
I had once lost my portmanteau from behind my chaise, and twice got
out in the rain, and one of the times up to the knees in dirt, to
help the postilion to tie it on, without being able to find out
what was
wanting. - Nor was it till I got to Montreuil, upon the
landlord's asking me if I wanted not a servant, that it occurred to
me, that that was the very thing.
A servant! That I do most sadly, quoth I. - Because, Monsieur,
said the
landlord, there is a clever young fellow, who would be
very proud of the honour to serve an Englishman. - But why an
English one, more than any other? - They are so
generous, said the