and in the mean time I set myself to consider how I should undo the
ill impressions which the poor monk's story, in case he had told it
her, must have planted in her breast against me.


THE SNUFF BOX. CALAIS.


The good old monk was within six paces of us, as the idea of him
crossed my mind; and was advancing towards us a little out of the
line, as if uncertain whether he should break in upon us or no.--He
stopp'd, however, as soon as he came up to us, with a world of
frankness: and having a horn snuff box in his hand, he presented
it open to me.--You shall taste mine--said I, pulling out my box
(which was a small tortoise one) and putting it into his hand.--
'Tis most excellent, said the monk. Then do me the favour, I
replied, to accept of the box and all, and when you take a pinch
out of it, sometimes recollect it was the peace offering of a man
who once used you unkindly, but not from his heart.

The poor monk blush'd as red as scarlet. Mon Dieu! said he,
pressing his hands together--you never used me unkindly.--I should
think, said the lady, he is not likely. I blush'd in my turn; but
from what movements, I leave to the few who feel, to analyze.--
Excuse me, Madame, replied I,--I treated him most unkindly; and
from no provocations.--'Tis impossible, said the lady.--My God!
cried the monk, with a warmth of asseveration which seem'd not to
belong to him--the fault was in me, and in the indiscretion of my
zeal.--The lady opposed it, and I joined with her in maintaining it
was impossible, that a spirit so regulated as his, could give