warned that he must not spend the winter in England, and as soon as vols. v. and vi. of Tristram were out of the publisher's hands at Christmas 1761, Sterne passed over to France. In Paris he found himself the centre of boundless adulation, which delayed him until a sharp attack of the lungs obliged him to fly further south. Accordingly he sent for his wife and his only child, his daughter Lydia, and then—but it was already July— hastened to Toulouse. Here he stayed nearly a year, in pretty good health ; but he tired of the place, and insisted on spending the winter of 1763 at Montpellier, which did not suit him at all. After a gay bout in Paris, Sterne found himself back in his

Caricature of Sterne and Bridges

From Dibdins "Bibliographical Tour*

parsonage of Sutton in the summer of 1764. In October 1765 Sterne started upon that Sentimental Journey through France and Italv, which is the subject of the most charming of his books (published in 1768); he did not get back till July 1766. In 1767 a ninth volume brought Tristram Shandv to an end, though not to a close, for it remains unfinished. The Eliza of the posthumous Lett.rs from YarLk to Eliza, 1775, now occupied a great deal of Sterne's attention. This was Mrs. Draper, the widow of an Indian merchant, with whom he carried on a violent sentimental flirtation. She returned to India, and Sterne, with his daughter Lydia, now "an elegant accomplished little slut," went to Coxwold for the autumn and winter of 1767. He came back as usual to London, but he had long been dying of consumption, and the end came rather

suddenly on the i8th of March 1768, over a shop in Old Bond Street. His corpse was neglected by the hired watchers, and, although buried in the yard of St. George's, Hanover Square, is said to have been stolen by body-snatchers, who sold it to the Cambridge Professor of Anatomy. Of the temperament of Sterne, no better summary can be given than is provided by himself, when, after describing some misfortune, he says: " But I'll lay a guinea that in half-an-hour I shall be as merry as a monkey, and forget it all."

c,«- ^J}a/nti' of. Jirnwru Illustration by Rowlandson to Sterne's "Sentimental Journey"

From " Tristram Shandy."

When my Father received the letter which brought him the melancholy news of my brother Bobby's death, he was busy calculating the expense of his riding post from Calais to Paris, and so on to Lyons.

'Twas a most inauspicious journey, my Father having had every foot of it to travel over again, and his calculation to begin afresh, when he had almost got to the end of it, by Obadiah's opening the door to inform him the family was out of yeast, and to ask whether he might not take the great coach-horse early in the morning, and ride in search of some. " With all my heart, Obadiah," said my Father, pursuing his journey, " take the coachhorse, and welcome." " But he wants a shoe, poor creature," said Obadiah. " Poor creature," said my Uncle Toby, vibrating the note back again like a string in unison. " Then take the Scotch horse," quoth my Father hastily. " He cannot bear a saddle upon his back," quoth Obadiah, " for the whole world." " The De\ il's in that horse ; then take Patriot," cried my Father, and shut the door. " Patriot is sold," said Obadiah. " Here's for you !" cried my Father, making a pause, and looking in my Uncle Toby's face as if the thing had not been a matter of fact. "Your worship ordered me to sell him last April," said Obadiah. " Then go on foot for your pains," cried my Father. " I had much rather walk than ride," said Obadiah, shutting the door.

" What plagues !" cried my Father, going on with his calculation. " But the waters are out," said Obadiah, opening the door again.

vol.. in. X