what is first-rate, what is good, what is bad, what is detestable, all pell-mell.  He is disgusted at the amusements, which have the air of religious ceremonies; with the men, on whose countenances you never see confidence, friendship, gaiety, sociability, but on every face the inscription, ’What is there in common between me and you?’; disgusted with the great people, who are gloomy, cold, proud, haughty, and vain; and with the small people, who are hard, insolent, and barbarous.  The only thing that I have heard him praise is the facility of travel:  he says there is not a village, even on a cross-road, where you do not find four or five post-chaises and a score of horses ready to start....  There is no public education.  The colleges—­sumptuous buildings—­palaces to be compared to the Tuileries, are occupied by rich idlers, who sleep and get drunk one part of the day, and the rest they spend in training, clumsily enough, a parcel of uncouth lads to be clergymen....  In the fine places that have been built for public amusements, you could hear a mouse run.  A hundred stiff and silent women walk round and round an orchestra that is set up in the middle.  The Baron compares these circuits to the seven processions of the Egyptians round the tomb of Osiris.  A charming mot of my good friend Garrick, is that London is good for the English, but Paris is good for all the world....  There is a great mania for conversions and missionaries.  Mr. Hume told me a story which will let you know what to think of these pretended conversions of cannibals and Hurons.  A minister thought he had done a great stroke in this line; he had the vanity to wish to show his proselyte, and brought him to London.  They question his little Huron, and he answers to perfection.  They take him to church, and administer the sacrament, where, as you know, the communion is in both kinds.  Afterwards, the minister says to him, ’Well, my son, do you not feel yourself more animated with the love of God?  Does not the grace of the sacrament work within you?  Is not all your soul warmed?’ ‘Yes,’ says the Huron:  ’the wine does one good, but I think it would have done still better if it had been brandy.’"[213]

Two Cases of Conscience.—­“The cure said that unhappy lovers always talked about dying, but that it was very rare to find one who kept his word; still he had seen one case.  It was that of a young man of family, called Soulpse.  He fell in love with a young lady of beauty and of good character, but without money, and belonging to a dishonoured family.  Her father was in the galleys for forgery.  The young man, who foresaw all the opposition, and all the good grounds for opposition, that he would have to encounter among his family, did all that he could to cure himself of his passion; but when he was assured of the uselessness of his efforts, he plucked up courage to open the matter to his parents, who wearied themselves with remonstrances.  Our lover suddenly stopped them short, saying, ’I