into the sun--the gardener of the convent being
chosen muleteer, led out the two old mules, to clip the hair from the
rump-ends of their tails, whilst a couple of lay-sisters were busied,
the one in darning the lining, and the other in sewing on the shreds
of yellow binding, which the teeth of time had unravelled--the
under-gardener dress'd the muleteer's hat in hot wine-lees--and a taylor
sat musically at it, in a shed over-against the convent, in assorting
four dozen of bells for the harness, whistling to each bell, as he tied
it on with a thong.--

--The carpenter and the smith of Andouillets held a council of wheels;
and by seven, the morning after, all look'd spruce, and was ready at
the gate of the convent for the hot-baths of Bourbon--two rows of the
unfortunate stood ready there an hour before.

The abbess of Andouillets, supported by Margarita the novice, advanced
slowly to the calesh, both clad in white, with their black rosaries
hanging at their breasts--

--There was a simple solemnity in the contrast: they entered the calesh;
the nuns in the same uniform, sweet emblem of innocence, each occupied
a window, and as the abbess and Margarita look'd up--each (the sciatical
poor nun excepted)--each stream'd out the end of her veil in the
air--then kiss'd the lilly hand which let it go: the good abbess and
Margarita laid their hands saint-wise upon their breasts--look'd up to
heaven--then to them--and look'd 'God bless you, dear sisters.'

I declare I am interested in this story, and wish I had been there.

The gardener, whom I shall now call the muleteer, was a little, hearty,
broad-set, good-natured, chattering, toping kind of a fellow, who
troubled his head very little with the hows and whens of life; so had
mortgaged a month of his conventical wages in a borrachio, or leathern
cask of wine, which he had disposed behind the calesh, with a large
russet-coloured riding-coat over it, to guard it from the sun; and as
the weather was hot, and he not a niggard of his labours, walking ten
times more than he rode--he found more occasions than those of nature,
to fall back to the rear of his carriage; till by frequent coming and
going, it had so happen'd, that all his wine had leak'd out at the legal
vent of the borrachio, before one half of the journey was finish'd.

Man is a creature born to habitudes. The day had been sultry--the
evening was delicious--the wine was generous--the Burgundian hill on
which it grew