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A Sentimental Journey Through France and Italy by Laurence Sterne
page 22 of 148 (14%)
offence to any.

I knew not that contention could be rendered so sweet and
pleasurable a thing to the nerves as I then felt it.--We remained
silent, without any sensation of that foolish pain which takes
place, when, in such a circle, you look for ten minutes in one
another's faces without saying a word. Whilst this lasted, the
monk rubbed his horn box upon the sleeve of his tunic; and as soon
as it had acquired a little air of brightness by the friction--he
made me a low bow, and said, 'twas too late to say whether it was
the weakness or goodness of our tempers which had involved us in
this contest--but be it as it would,--he begg'd we might exchange
boxes.--In saying this, he presented his to me with one hand, as he
took mine from me in the other, and having kissed it,--with a
stream of good nature in his eyes, he put it into his bosom,--and
took his leave.

I guard this box, as I would the instrumental parts of my religion,
to help my mind on to something better: in truth, I seldom go
abroad without it; and oft and many a time have I called up by it
the courteous spirit of its owner to regulate my own, in the
justlings of the world: they had found full employment for his, as
I learnt from his story, till about the forty-fifth year of his
age, when upon some military services ill requited, and meeting at
the same time with a disappointment in the tenderest of passions,
he abandoned the sword and the sex together, and took sanctuary not
so much in his convent as in himself.

I feel a damp upon my spirits, as I am going to add, that in my
last return through Calais, upon enquiring after Father Lorenzo, I
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