That be you in never so kindly a propensity to sleep----tho' you are passing perhaps through the finest country--upon the best roads, and in the easiest carriage for doing it in the world----nay, was you sure you could sleep fifty miles straight forwards, without once opening your eyes--nay, what is more, was you as demonstratively satisfied as you can be of any truth in _Euclid_, that you should upon all accounts be full as well asleep as awake----nay, perhaps better ----Yet the incessant returns of paying for the horses at every stage, ----with the necessity thereupon of putting your hand into your pocket, and counting out from thence three livres fifteen sous (sous by sous), puts an end to so much of the project, that you cannot execute above six miles of it (or supposing it is a post and a half, that is but nine)----were it to save your soul from destruction.

That be you never so ready for sleep - tho' you are passing perhaps through the finest country, upon the best roads, and in the easiest carriage in the world - nay, even if you were sure you could sleep for fifty miles, without once opening your eyes - yet the necessity of paying for the horses at every stage - of putting your hand into your pocket, and counting out three livres fifteen sous, puts an end to rest so effectively that you cannot sleep above six miles, to save your soul from destruction.
