In the
middle of a note to give an account to the world of a couple of
sparrows upon the out-edge of his window, which had incommoded him
all the time he wrote, and at last had entirely taken him off from
his genealogy.
- 'Tis strange! writes Bevoriskius; but the facts are certain, for
I have had the curiosity to mark them down one by one with my pen;-
-but the cock sparrow, during the little time that I could have
finished the other half of this note, has actually interrupted me
with the reiteration of his caresses three-and-twenty times and a
half.
How merciful, adds Bevoriskius, is heaven to his creatures!
Ill fated Yorick! that the gravest of thy brethren should be able
to write that to the world, which stains thy face with crimson to
copy, even in thy study.
But this is nothing to my travels. - So I twice, - twice beg pardon
for it.
CHARACTER. VERSAILLES.
And how do you find the French? said the Count de B-, after he had
given me the passport.
The reader may suppose, that after so obliging a proof of courtesy,
I could not be at a loss to say something handsome to the enquiry.
- Mais passe, pour cela. - Speak frankly, said he: do you find all
the urbanity in the French which the world give us the honour of? -
I had found every thing, I said, which confirmed it. - Vraiment,
said the Count, les Francois sont polis. - To an excess, replied I.
The Count took notice of the word exces; and would have it I meant
more than I said. I defended myself a long time as well as I could
against it. - He insisted I had a reserve, and that I would speak my
opinion frankly.
I believe, Monsieur le Count, said I, that man has a certain
compass, as well as an instrument; and that the social and other
calls have occasion by turns for every key in him; so that if you
begin a note too high or too low, there must be a want either in
the upper or under part, to fill up the system of harmony. - The
Count de B- did not understand music, so desired me to explain it
some other way. A polish'd nation, my dear Count, said I, makes
every one its debtor: and besides, Urbanity itself, like the fair
sex, has so many charms, it goes against the heart to say it can do
ill; and yet, I believe, there is but a certain line of perfection,
that man, take him altogether, is empower'd to arrive at:
