Some little opening
betwixt the German's arm and his body, trying first on one side,
then the other; but the German stood square in the most
unaccommodating posture that can be imagined: - the dwarf might as
well have been placed at the bottom of the deepest draw-well in
Paris; so he civilly reached up his hand to the German's sleeve,
and told him his distress. - The German turn'd his head back, looked
down upon him as Goliah did upon David, - and unfeelingly resumed
his posture.
I was just then taking a pinch of snuff out of my monk's little
horn box. - And how would thy meek and courteous spirit, my dear
monk! so temper'd to BEAR AND FORBEAR! - how sweetly would it have
lent an ear to this poor soul's complaint!
The old French officer, seeing me lift up my eyes with an emotion,
as I made the apostrophe, took the liberty to ask me what was the
matter? - I told him the story in three words; and added, how
inhuman it was.
By this time the dwarf was driven to extremes, and in his first
transports, which are generally unreasonable, had told the German
he would cut off his long queue with his knife. - The German look'd
back coolly, and told him he was welcome, if he could reach it.
An injury sharpen'd by an insult, be it to whom it will, makes
every man of sentiment a party: I could have leap'd out of the box
to have redressed it. - The old French officer did it with much less
confusion; for leaning a little over, and nodding to a sentinel,
and pointing at the same time with his finger at the distress, - the
sentinel made his way to it. - There was no occasion to tell the
grievance, - the thing told himself; so thrusting back the German
instantly with his musket, - he took the poor dwarf by the hand, and
placed him before him. - This is noble! said I, clapping my hands
together. - And yet you would not permit this, said the old officer,
in England.
- In England, dear Sir, said I, WE SIT ALL AT OUR EASE.
The old French officer would have set me at unity with myself, in
case I had been at variance, - by saying it was a bon mot; - and, as
a bon mot is always worth something at Paris, he offered me a pinch
of snuff.
THE ROSE. PARIS.
It was now my turn to ask the old French officer "What was the
matter?" for a cry of "Haussez les mains, Monsieur l'Abbe!" re-
echoed from a dozen different parts of the parterre, was as
unintelligible to me, as my apostrophe to the monk had been to him.
