THE SNUFF BOX. CALAIS.
Back 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 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 heard he had been dead near three months, and was buried, not in his convent, but, according to his desire, in a little cemetery belonging to it, about two leagues off: I had a strong desire to see where they had laid him,--when, upon pulling out his little horn box, as I sat by his grave, and plucking up a nettle or two at the head of it, which had no business to grow there, they all struck together so forcibly upon my affections, that I burst into a flood of tears: --but I am as weak as a woman; and I beg the world not to smile, but to pity me.
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