completion; for by this time Sterne had already made up his mind to
interpolate these notes of his French travels, which now do duty as
Vol. VII. "You will read," he tells Foley, "as odd a tour through
France as was ever projected or executed by traveller or travel-writer
since the world began. 'Tis a laughing, good-tempered satire upon
travelling--as _puppies_ travel." By the 16th of the month he had
"finished my two volumes of _Tristram_," and looked to be in London at
Christmas, "whence I have some thoughts of going to Italy this year.
At least I shall not defer it above another." On the 26th of January,
1765, the two new volumes were given to the world.

Shorter in length than any of the preceding instalments, and filled
out as it was, even so, by a process of what would now be called
"book-making," this issue will yet bear comparison, I think, with the
best of its predecessors. Its sketches of travel, though destined
to be surpassed in vigour and freedom of draftsmanship by the
_Sentimental Journey_, are yet excellent, and their very obvious want
of connexion with the story--if story it can be called--is so little
felt that we almost resent the head-and-ears introduction of Mr.
Shandy and his brother, and the Corporal, in apparent concession to
the popular prejudice in favour of some sort of coherence between
the various parts of a narrative. The first seventeen chapters are,
perhaps, as freshly delightful reading as anything in Sterne. They are
literally filled and brimming over with the exhilaration of travel:
written, or at least prepared for writing, we can clearly see, under
the full intoxicant effect which a bewildering succession of new
sights and sounds will produce, in a certain measure, upon the coolest
of us, and which would set a head like Sterne's in an absolute whirl.
The contagion of his high spirits is, however, irresistible; and,
putting aside all other and more solid qualities in them, these