1809. _Rowlandson's Sketches from Nature._ Drawn and etched by Rowlandson. Stadler, aquatinta. Published by T. Tegg.
A View in Camelford, Cornwall Sept. 1, 1809. The Seat of M. Mitchell, Esq., Hengar, Cornwall Sept. 1 " A Cottage in the Duchy of Cornwall Sept. 1 " Village of St. Udy, Cornwall Sept. 1 " Fowey, Cornwall Sept. 30 " A View near Richmond Oct. 4 " A View in Devonshire Oct. 4 " Taunton Vale, Somersetshire Nov. 25 " View near Newport, Isle of Wight Nov. 25 " Temple at Strawberry Hill Nov. 25 " White Lion Inn, Ponders End, Middlesex Nov. 25 "
_The Coach-yard of Monsieur Dessein's Inn._--'This certainly, fair lady,' said I, raising her hand up a little lightly as I began, 'must be one of Fortune's whimsical doings: to take two utter strangers by their hands--of different sexes, and perhaps from different corners of the globe--and in one moment place them together in such a cordial situation as Friendship herself could scarce have achieved for them, had she projected it for a month.'
'And your reflection upon it shews how much, monsieur, she has embarrassed you by the adventure.' In saying this she disengaged her hand with a look which I thought a sufficient commentary upon the text.
The triumphs of a true feminine heart are short upon these discomfitures. In a very few seconds she laid her hand upon the cuff of my coat, in order to finish her reply.
I fear, in this interval, I must have made some slight efforts towards a closer compression of her hand, from a subtle sensation I felt in the palm of my own--not as if she was going to withdraw hers, but as if she thought about it--and I had infallibly lost it a second time, had not instinct more than reason directed me to the last resource in these dangers--to hold it loosely, and in a manner as if I was every moment going to release it of myself; so she let it continue, till Monsieur Dessein returned with the key; and in the meantime 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.
[Illustration: YORICK AND FATHER LORENZO.]
_The Snuffbox._--The good old monk was within six paces of us, as the idea of them 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 stopped, however, as soon as he came up to us, with a world of frankness; and having a horn snuffbox in his hand, he presented it, open, to me. 'You shall taste mine,' said I, pulling out my box (which was a small tortoiseshell 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.'