ABSTRACT
We had dwelt but a few weeks in our present place of abode, when it happened one day that I took occasion to visit the bookseller’s shop I have mentioned, and amused myself for half-an-hour with turning over the pages of some new publications. There was a room behind the shop, separated from it only by a window and a curtain, which was considered as the privileged resort of the gentlemen of the town and neighbourhood, and removed them from the ordinary customers, footmen and maid-servants, who came for their incidental purchases, and into which it was not the practice for strangers to make their way, unless introduced. / It was in this room that I took my seat. Among other things my evil genius prompted me to lay my hand upon a file of English newspapers. I was alone; and I thought I might indulge myself in the sad luxury of thus visiting in fancy my native country, upon the soil of which I might perhaps never again set my foot. I cast my eye upon the record of marriages and deaths, the persons most of them unknown to me, but some whose names were familiar, and some of them who ranked among my personal acquaintance.
