"O no, he is an emigrant." "An emigrant! O, ho!" cried Vincent, with a discontented and contemptuous raise of his eye-brows and voice; "what, a poor Frenchman! Good Lord, how this town is over-run with these fellows!" "No, doctor;" exclaimed Mrs. Robson, much hurt at this affront to her lodger, whom she really loved; "whatever he be, he is not poor, for he has a power of fine things; he has got a watch all over diamonds, and diamond rings; and diamond pictures without number: So, doctor, you need not fear you are attending him for charity; no, I would sell my gown first." Nay, don't be offended, Mrs. Rob son! I meant no offence," returned he,, much mollified by this explanation; "but really, when we see the bread that should feed our children, and our own poor; eaten up by a parcel of lazy French drones, who have covered our land, and destroyed. destroyed its produce, like a swarm of filthy locusts, we should be fools not to murmur. But Mr. Mr. -, what did you call him, Mrs. Robson? is a different sort of a body." - "Mr. Constantine," replied she, "and indeed he is; and no doubt, when you recover him, he will pay you as though he were in his own country.” This last assertion banished all remaining suspicion from the apothecary; `and, after giving the good woman what orders he thought requisite, he returned home, promising to call in the evening. Mrs. Robson went up stairs to the count's chamber, with other sentiments towards her sapient doctor than those with which she came down. She well recollected the substance of his discourse; and she gathered from it, that however clever he might be in his profession, he was a hardhearted man, who would rather see a fellow-creature perish, than administer relief to him without a reward. But here Mrs. Robson was mistaken. She did him justice in esteeming his medical abilities, which were great: he had made medicine the study of his life; and, not allowing any other occupation to disturb his attention, he became master of that science, but remained ignorant of every other with which it had no connection. He was the father of a family; and, in the usual acceptation of the term, a very good sort of a man; he preferred his country to every other, because it was his country; he loved his wife and his chil dren : he was kind to the poor, to whom he gave his advice gratis, and letters to the dispensary for drugs; and when he had any broken victuals to spare, he desired that it might be divided amongst them; but he seldom caught his maid obeying this part of his commands, without reprimanding her for her extravagance in giving away what ought to be eaten in the kitchen---" in these times it was a shame to waste a crumb; and the careless hussey hussey would come to want, for thinking so lightly of other people's property." Thus, like many in the world, he was a loyal citizen by habit, an affectionate father from nature, and a man of charity, because he now and then felt pity, and now and then heard it preached from the pulpit. He was exhorted to be pious, and to pour wine and oil into the wounds of his neighbour; but it never once struck him, that piety extended farther than going to church, mumbling his prayers, and forgetting the sermon, through most of which he generally slept: and his commentaries on the Good Samaritan were not more extensive; for it was so difficult to make him comprehend who was his neighbour, that the object of the argument might have been sick, dead, and buried before he could be persuaded that he had just claims on his care. Indeed, his "charity began at home;" and it was so fond of its residence, that it " stopped there." To have been born on the other side side of the British channel, spread am ocean between the poor foreigner and Mr. Vincent's purse, which, to this hour, the swiftest wings of charity could never cross. "He saw no reason," he said, "for feeding the natural enemies of our country. Would any man be mad enough to take the meat from his children's mouths, and throw it to a swarm of wolves just landed on the coast ?" These wolves were his favourite metaphors, when he spoke of the unhappy French, or of any other pennyless foreigners, who came in his way. After this explanation, it will appear paradoxical to mention an inconsistency in the mind of Mr. Vincent, which never permitted him to discover the above. Cainish mark of outlawry, upon the wealthy stranger of whatever country. In fact, it was with him as with many: riches were a splendid and thick robe that concealed all blemishes; take it away, and probably the poor stripped wretch would |