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I got thus fato St lago in Spain him from him

ail; and made a vow, if Heaven would not take him from him also, he would gol in gratitude to St Iago in Spain.

When the mourner got thus far on his story, he stopped to pay nature her tribute, and wept bitterly.

He said Heaven had accepted the conditions; and that he had set out from his cottage with this poor creature, who had been a patient partner of his journey; that it had eat the same bread with him all the way, and was unto him as a friend.

Everybody who stood about, heard the poor fellow with concern. La Fleur offered him money. The mourner said he did not want it; .... it was not the value of the ass, .... but the loss of him. . . . . The ass, he said, he was assured loved him, . . . . and upon this he told them a long story of a mischance upon their passage over the Pyrenean mountains which had separated them from each other three days ; during which time the ass had sought him as much as he had sought the ass, and that they had scarce either eat or drank till they met. 3

“ Thou hast one comfort, friend,” said I, “ at least, in the loss of thy poor beast; I'm sure thou hast been a merciful master to him.”....“Alas !” said the mourner, “I thought so, when he was alive ; but now that he is dead, I think otherwise. I fear the weight of myself and my afflictions together have been too much for him ; they have shortened the poor creature's days, and I fear I have them to answer for.”4_“ Shame on the world !” said I to myself; “did we love each other as this poor soul but loved his ass, 'twould be something.

STERNE. 1713–1768.

i Made a vow he would go, Il fit veu d'aller.—2 When the mourner got thus far on his story, Quand le pauvre homme en fut là de son histoire. —3 And that they had scarce either eat or drank till they met, Et qu'ils n'avaient presque ni mangé ni bu qu'ils ne se fussent retrouvés.-4 And I fear I have them to answer for, Et j'ai peur d'avoir à en répondre.

CONINGSBY. The traveller was an orphan;—more that that—a solitary orphan. The sweet sedulousness of a mother's love, a sister's mystical affection, had not cultivated his early susceptibility. No soft pathos of expression had appealed to his childish ear. He was alone, among strangers, calmly and coldly kind. It must indeed have been a truly gentle disposition that could have withstood such hard neglect. All that he knew of the power of the softer passions might be found in the fanciful and romantic annals of school-boy friendship.

And those friends, too, so sympathising, so devoted, where were they now? Already they were dispersed. The first great separation of life had been experienced. The former school-boy had planted his foot on the threshold of manhood. True, many of them might meet again. Many of them the university must again unite. But never with the same feelings. The space of time, passed in the world before they again met, would be an age of sensation, passion, experience to all of them. They would meet again with altered mien ; with different mannes, different voices. Their eyes would not shine with the same light; they would not speak the same words. The favourite phrases of their intimacy, the mystic sounds that spoke only to their initiated ear, they would be ashamed to use them. Yes! they might meet again ; but the gushing and secret tenderness was gore for ever.

Nor could our pensive youth conceal it from himsef that it was affection, and mainly affection that had bound him to these dear companions. They could not be to him what he had been to them. His had been the inspiring mind that had guided their opinions, formed their tastes, directed the bent and tenor of their lives and thoughts. Often indeed had he needel, sometimes indeed he had sighed for, the companionship of an equal or superior mind ; one who, by the comprehension of his thought, and the richness of his knowledge, and the advantage of his experience, might strengthen and illuminate, and guide his obscure, or hesitating, or unpractised intelligence. He had

scarcely been fortunate in this respect, and he deeply regretted it ; for he was one of those who was not content with excelling in his own circle, if he thought there was one superior to it. Absolute, not relative distinction, was his noble aim.


SHYLOCK AND SALARIN O. Salarino. But tell us, do you hear whether Antonio have had any loss or no ?

Shylock. There I have another bad match : a bankrupt, a prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the Rialto ;-a beggar, that used to come so smug upon the mart ;-let him look to his bond. He was wont to call me usurer ;-let him look to his bond : he was wont to lend money for a Christian courtesy ;-let him look to his bond.

Salarino. Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take his flesh ; what's that good for?

Shylock. To bait fish withal : if it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and hindered me of half a million, laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies, and what's his reason? I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes ? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions ? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is ? if you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die ? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? if we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility ? revenge ; if a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example ? why, revenge. The villany you teach me, I will execute ; and it shall go hard, but I will better the instruction.



LOUIS XI. BRAVE enough for every useful and political purpose, Louis had not a spark of that romantic valour, or of the pride generally associated with it, which fought on for the point of honour when the point of utility had long been gained. Calm, crafty, and profoundly attentive to his own interest, he made every sacrifice, both of pride and passion, which could interfere with it. He was careful in disguising his real sentiments and purposes from? all who approached him, and frequently used the expressions, “that the king knew not how to reign 3 who knew not how to dissemble ; and that, for himself, if he thought his very cap knew his secrets, he would throw it into the fire.” No man of his own or of any other time better understood how to avail himself of the frailties of others, and when to avoid giving any advantage by the untimely indulgence of his own.

He was by nature vindictive and cruel, even to the extent of 4 finding pleasure in the frequent executions which he commanded. But as no touch of mercy ever induced him to spare when he could with safety condemn, so no sentiment of vengeance ever stimulated him to a premature violence. He seldom sprang on his prey till it was fairly within his grasp, and till all hope of rescue was vain; and his movements were so studiously disguised, that his success was generally what first announced to the world the object he had been endeavouring to attain.

In like manner the avarice of Louis gave way to apparent profusion, when it was necessary to bribe the favourite or minister of a rival prince for averting any impending attack, or to break up any alliance confederated against him. He was fond of license and pleasure, but not even his ruling passions ever withdrew him from the most regular attendance to public business and the affairs of his kingdom. His knowledge of mankind was profound, and he had sought it in the private walks of life ; 6 in which he often personally mingled ; and, though naturally proud and haughty, he hesitated not, with an inattention to the arbitrary divisions of society, which was then thought something portentously unnatural, to raise from the lowest rank men whom he employed on the most important duties, and knew so well how to choose them, that he was rarely disappointed in their qualities.

i Interfere with it, Le compromettre.—2 See 8 33.-3 See $ 55, 39.-4 To the extent of, Au point de.-—5 Within his grasp, À sa portée.—6 The private walks of life, Les rangs de la vie privée.

Yet there were contradíctions in the character of this artful and able monarch ; for human nature is never uniform. Himself the most false and insincere of mankind, some of the greatest errors of his life arose from too rash a confidence in the honour and integrity of others. When these errors took place, they seem to have arisen from an over-refined system of policy, which induced Louis to assume the appearance of undoubting confidence in those whom it was his object to over-reach ; for, in his general conduct, he was as jealous and suspicious as any tyrant who ever breathed

Two other points may be noticed to complete the sketch of this formidable character, by which he rose among the rude chivalrous sovereigns of the period to the rank of a keeper among wild beasts, who, by superior wisdom and policy, by distribution of food, and some discipline by blows, comes finally to predominate over those who, if unsubjected by his arts, would by main strength have torn him to pieces.

The first of these attributes was Louis's excessive superstition, a plagued with which Heaven often afflicts those who refuse to listen to the dictates of religion. The remorse arising from his evil actions Louis never endeavoured to appease by any relaxation in his Macchiavelian stratagems, but laboured in vain to soothe and silence that painful feeling by superstitious observances, severe penance, and profuse gifts to the ecclesiastics. The second property, with which the first is sometimes found strangely united, was a disposition to low pleasures and obscure debauchery. The

i The first of these attributes was Louis's excessive superstition, a plague, Le premier des traits qui caractérisaient Louis était une excessive superstition,


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