C H A P. XVII

THOUGH I was sensible I had said as many clever things to the

commissary as came to six livres four sous, yet I was determined to

note down the imposition amongst my remarks before I retired from the

place; so putting my hand into my coat-pocket for my remarks—(which, by

the bye, may be a caution to travellers to take a little more care of

_their_ remarks for the future) “my remarks were _stolen_”——Never did

sorry traveller make such a pother and racket about his remarks as I

did about mine, upon the occasion.

Heaven! earth! sea! fire! cried I, calling in every thing to my aid but

what I should——My remarks are stolen!—what shall I do?——Mr. Commissary!

pray did I drop any remarks, as I stood besides you?——

You dropp’d a good many very singular ones; replied he——Pugh! said I,

those were but a few, not worth above six livres two sous—but these are

a large parcel——He shook his head——Monsieur _Le Blanc!_ Madam _Le

Blanc!_ did you see any papers of mine?—you maid of the house! run up

stairs—_François!_ run up after her——

—I must have my remarks——they were the best remarks, cried I, that ever

were made—the wisest—the wittiest—What shall I do?—which way shall I

turn myself?

_Sancho Pança_, when he lost his ass’s FURNITURE, did not exclaim more

bitterly.

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