There is not a town in all _France_, which, in my opinion, looks better
in the map, than MONTREUIL; ----I own, it does not look so well in the
book of post-roads; but when you come to see it--to be sure it looks
most pitifully.
There is one thing, however, in it at present very handsome; and that
is, the inn-keeper’s daughter: She has been eighteen months at _Amiens_,
and six at _Paris_, in going through her classes; so knits, and sews,
and dances, and does the little coquetries very well.----
--A slut! in running them over within these five minutes that I have
stood looking at her, she has let fall at least a dozen loops in a white
thread stocking----yes, yes --I see, you cunning gipsy! --’tis long and
taper--you need not pin it to your knee--and that ’tis your own--and
fits you exactly.----
----That Nature should have told this creature a word about a _statue’s
thumb!_
--But as this sample is worth all their thumbs----besides, I have her
thumbs and fingers in at the bargain, if they can be any guide to me,
--and as _Janatone_ withal (for that is her name) stands so well for a
drawing----may I never draw more, or rather may I draw like a
draught-horse, by main strength all the days of my life, --if I do not
draw her in all her proportions, and with as determined a pencil, as if
I had her in the wettest drapery.----
--But your worships chuse rather that I give you the length, breadth,
and perpendicular height of the great parish-church, or drawing of the
façade of the abbey of Saint _Austerberte_ which has been transported
from _Artois_ hither--everything is just I suppose as the masons and
carpenters left them, --and if the belief in _Christ_ continues so long,
will be so these fifty years to come--so your worships and reverences
may all measure them at your leisures----but he who measures thee,
_Janatone_, must do it now--thou carriest the principles of change
within thy frame; and considering the chances of a transitory life,
I would not answer for thee a moment; ere twice twelve months are passed
and gone, thou mayest grow out like a pumpkin, and lose thy shapes----or
thou mayest go off like a flower, and lose thy beauty--nay, thou mayest
go off like a hussy--and lose thyself. --I would not answer for my aunt
_Dinah_, was she alive----’faith, scarce for her picture----were it but
painted by _Reynolds_--
But if I go on with my drawing, after naming that son of _Apollo_, I’ll
be shot----
So you must e’en be content with the original; which, if the evening is
fine in passing thro’ _Montreuil_, you will see at your chaise-door, as
you change horses: but unless you have as bad a reason for haste as I
have--you had better stop: ----She has a little of the _devote_: but
that, sir, is a terce to a nine in your favour------
--L--help me! I could not count a single point: so had been piqued and
repiqued, and capotted to the devil.