A TRIP TO HOLLAND.

PACKET AT SEA.

A VERY heavy gale. The voice, however, of a Frenchman singing a petit chanson, struck upon my ear. Strange! exclaimed I, that a man should be thus easy, nay, even merry, during a storm at sea! My curiosity was raised: I inquired for the singer, and was conducted to him by the mate.

He was lying on a couch, evidently disordered by the motion of the vessel. Stranger still, thought I, that the animal spirits should thus triumph over the bodily affections; and I rallied him accordingly.

"Ah! Monsieur," cried he, "on m'a dit que le vaisseau est en danger, c'est pourquoi je chante pour chasser la peur."

"Pour chasser la peur ?"

Oui, Monsieur, car je n'ai jamais l'air triste-en un mot, je ne suis pas Anglais."

"You think an Englishman, then, the dullest of human beings?" "Sans doute," returned he, loud enough to be heard by his friend, a Dutchman, who was not a little pleased with the reply.

I complimented him on his voice, and on his excellent style in singing. "Is it possible that you can be serious?" said he. "I am an Englishman," replied I. He smiled, and said no more; but he was evidently pleased. I

had gained his favour by commending his voice. O flattery!-soft delusive flattery! how easily dost thou wind thyself about the heart of man!-how pleasing, how soothing art thou to the soul! I was ever afterwards his friend-his bon ami. Charmed with being thought a singer!-Be it so. And if friendships may be thus easily purchased, tell me, I pray ye, O sons and daughters of humanity! would you ever live without a friend?

HELVOETSLUYS.

I WAS glad to quit the vessel. Something like uneasiness, however, hung about my heart. "Is it possible," said I to myself, " that I can have so much of the amor patriæ about me, as to be affected by a change of soil? Am I not still in a land of liberty? and am I not preparing to join my friends, who are now at the Hague?" The latter consideration was pleasing to me; but it was only the pleasure of a moment. I felt myself unhappy, but was totally mistaken in the cause.

"I have

I was at length awakened from the dream. left in England every thing that is dear to me; my family and particular friends.”—“If we should never meet again!" The thought was The thought was painful to me. "" I will divert it," said I, "by wandering about the town." In this state of mind I found myself standing at the head of the pier. I cast my eyes upon the water—“ The sea divides us."-"If we should never meet again!" "Foolish thoughts!" exclaimed I, and instantly returned to the inn.

Nothing can be more ridiculous than for a man to think of concealing his unhappiness by a show of jocularity and ease. Now, though I had reflected on this a hundred times before, and had as frequently observed

its effect, I was still weak enough to fall into the error which I so universally condemned. I imagined that my companions had discovered my grief-I was apprehensive that they knew the cause; and, to confess the truth, I dreaded the Frenchman's raillery. I was, accordingly, the merriest of the set. And was I fearful of incurring his censure? Certainly not. How happens it, then, O casuists! that we are thus ashamed of feelings which would do the greatest honour to our nature, yet frequently boast of actions at which the barbarian has been known to shudder? I fear you are but ill prepared to answer me.

The French

But it is time to continue my journey. man and I were left together at the inn. He was going immediately to the Hague-so was I. "If agreeable, Monsieur," said he, "I should be happy in accompanying you: I am somewhat enjoué, and it may possibly remove your uneasiness."

Now, though I would have given fifty ducats to have escaped his observation on the matter; and though I was somewhat vexed at his having mentioned it-I thanked him for his civility, and, I believe, with an appearance of gratitude. He had at once mortified and pleased me. The fault, however, was in myself.-He was evidently a man of discernment

-I am resolved, thought I (putting my hat upon my head with some degree of violence), that, with similar feelings, I will never again appear the happiest of men.

THE COMMISSARY.

HELVOET.

THERE is little to be seen in Helvoetsluys. We there fore resolved on setting out immediately for Briel. carriage was necessary, and it must necessarily be furnished

by the commissary. Be it known, therefore, (and I would advise my countrymen to keep it in remembrance) that a Dutch commissary is a man of infinite importance; at least in his own opinion, of which we had an indubitable proof.

A waeghen (in English, a waggon) was ordered to be got ready. Now, why the vehicle in question should be called a waggon, I cannot possibly conceive. It is by no means inelegant, and might undoubtedly be styled a coach—but whether this is to be attributed to the genius of the language, or—but no matter—it were loss of time to think of setting a Dutchman right; once wrong, he will ever remain so.

The waggon, however, was ordered, and we were told by the commissary that we must wait. There was something unpleasing in the sound. It is true, indeed, that there are times and seasons when a man can wait with a tolerable degree of patience-this did not happen to be one of them.-Half an hour had elapsed; and in that time the commissary, who never wishes to remain idle, had taken the money for the carriage, and a sesterhaf* for himself. The sum he had retained was trifling; but his seizing on it was insufferable. He would have gained more by leaving the matter to me, and I was careful to let him know it.

The Frenchman had hitherto sat contentedly; he now, however, began to abuse the commissary. The Dutchman coolly answered he must "wait." He then rapped out several diables—swearing that a Dutch commissary was the most phlegmatic sot existing, and that it was impossible he should be moved

"He would make an excellent inquisitor," whispered I-my companion acknowledged it with a nod.

We are apt to form our opinions too hastily: for, though the commissary was by no means the most obliging person in the world, he was not altogether blameable in the present business. There was a particular reason in the delay.

* Five-pence halfpenny.

LA BOURGEOISE.

HELVOET.

IN little more than an hour and the carriage was brought to the door. We were at the same time accosted by a lively Frenchwoman, who requested to be indulged with a seat in it. She was dressed très proprement; and it very clear to me, that we had been detained for no other reason than to give her an opportunity of reaching Briel.

is

Strange liberties! thought I, that when a man has engaged a vehicle to carry him forward on his journey, he shall, notwithstanding, be detained above an hour, in order to accommodate a petite Bourgeoise (for she was absolutely nothing more), who may happen to be going the same route.

"This would never be endured in England,” said I. "C'est très commun ici," replied my companion; "and it would be altogether vilain to send her away-we must undoubtedly comply."

The gallantry of a Frenchman was at stake. At any other time, perhaps, I might have been equally polite ; at this particular moment, however, I was a little out of humour; and very earnestly contended that the carriage would hold but two.

I was already in the vehicle, and my companion by my side-" Voyez-vous, ma chère," said I, (pointing to the seat,)"there is scarcely an inch of room." Now, whether the ma chère which had thus inadvertently fallen from me, or whether but I will not puzzle myself about it-suffice it, that I had no sooner uttered. the words than she cried-"O mon Dieu! il y a assez de place―Je me mettrai là, Monsieur, entre vous deux.” Saying which she stepped into the carriage, placed herself between us, and ordered the postillion to go on.