Arguments are of no use,” replied Madame Olympe; "it is proof which convinces. Marry, my dear Philéas, and I will take one of your daughters to educate, as I understand it, and you will see in the end what a charming young lady I shall make of her."

"I am too old to follow your advice, sister; and as you, on your part, have vowed perpetual widowhood, we shall be obliged to keep to theory."

DURING this conversation the sky and earth presented the gloomy aspect before described, and the coachman began to be as uneasy as the Scotch poet's unfortunate pilgrim. Blinded by clouds of snow, he no longer saw the horses' heads. His diffculty was at length noticed by the travellers, who learned with regret the distance they were from Versailles.

"We must be near St. Cyr," replied the coachman; "that is to say, about three miles from Versailles; but, if this weather continues, I despair of reaching it before night, for my horses refuse to go on; they would like to turn their backs to the snow, poor creatures! I can scarcely hold them in."

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"If such be the case," said Madame Olympe, frightened, we had better alight." Alight in such weather, sister? That is impossible. It would make you ill." "If madame consent," replied the coachman, "I will conduct her to the town of St. Cyr, provided Dominique walk before, to show me the road. I will answer for my horses, when they have no longer the snow in their faces.”

This being a prudent expedient, they were compelled to consent, for the conflict with the elements became greater. Scarcely, however, had they turned round, when the horses quietly took the road, and the travellers soon found themselves installed in the saloon of the best hotel in St. Cyr, by the side of an excellent fire. Madame Olympe then said to her brother

"Well, sister, the situation is not a bad one. The Military School here is worth being visited, if you have not, at least, already seen it."

After supper M. Philéas, taking possession of a newspaper that was on the mantleshelf, offered to read it to his sister, to beguile the evening hours, unless she preferred retiring to rest, in order to recover from the fatigues of the journey.

"Thank you, brother, I would rather withdraw to my room, for devout meditation, as we have entered upon Christmas Eve, and I have ordered Hersilia to make me a good fire."

"Hersilia! the idea of giving the name of Romulus' wife to a servant!"

Why not, Philéas? If you think it savours too much of paganism, I agree with you; but if you consider it above her rank, that objection equally applies to the names of saints."

"We have disputed enough to-day, Olympe; I will not oppose you further, on account of a Greek or Roman name."

"Good night, then, my dear Philías." She had a wish to add, "Would you not

do better to leave your newspaper, and come to meditate one hour with me on the grandeur of our salvation ?" but the fear of being importunate prevented her. Without upholding impiety, M. Philéas was one of those indifferent persons who are more attached to the progress of worldly affairs than to the interests of eternity. He replied to his sister—

"Good night, Olympe! I esteem your devotion, because I know it is sincere and enlightened, but here is news of much importance, to which I am sure you would listen with the attention it demands."

Olympe answered merely by quoting that passage from "L'Imitation de Jésus Christ:"-" It is folly to pay attention only to the present life, and not to think of the future. It is folly to love that which passes away with extreme rapidity, and not to press towards that place where eternal joy awaits us.”

CHAPTER III.

PIERRE CHIRON AND HIS THREE BABES.

RETIRED to her own room, Madame Olympe divested herself of some part of her dress, put on her slippers, exchanged her bonnet for a night head-dress, placed herself before a good fire, and prepared for some profitable reading. Her waiting-maid seeing she had no more commands to give her, asked permission to attend the midnight service.

"Go out at night such weather as it is, and in a place where you know nobody! -is that proper, Hersilia ?"

"Oh, I should not be alone, ma'am, far from it; for the mistress of the house has offered to accompany me, and her kitchen is full of people awaiting the hour of midnight."

"Travellers, no doubt ?"

"No, ma'am, they are inhabitants of the town."

"Why do they not remain at home?"

"To pass away the time; the women work and chat, the men drink and play cards." "They are indeed Christians well prepared for so solemn a feast! Do you approve that conduct, Hersilia ?"

“No, certainly not, maʼam ; I do not approve of the playing and drinking, but as to the conversation, I do not think there is any harm in that."

"Directed in a proper manner, it would become edifying," rejoined Olympe; "but that seldom happens in a large assembly, even on Christmas Eve. 'In the multitude of words,' says Wisdom, 'there wanteth not sin.' It is for you to know, Hersilia, how far you are able to resist bad example, being at an age to require no lenger a Mentor; I shall, therefore, only advise you not to lose sight of the holiness of this anniversary."

Hersilia promised her mistress to be on her guard, and went immediately into the kitchen, where a large company was assembled. General attention seemed turned, at this moment, towards a group of young people engaged at cards, with which they mingled frequent libations. Some seated round the table held cards in their hands; others, standing behind them, were content to follow attentively the chances of the game. Amongst these latter was a lively young man, with a brilliant and ruddy complexion, whose laughing and sweet countenance, fine figure, and light

hair rendered him more conspicuous than the others. His dress was that of an artisan. Although very young, he appeared to enjoy the confidence of his companions, who, at every doubtful turn of the game, appealled to Pierre Chiron.

"There is a young man," whispered Hersilia to the landlady, "who seems to possess great influence here; to what is it to be attributed?"

"To his experience," replied the landlady, in the same tone; "but his family derive no advantage from it."

"What is he already married?"

"Yes, a year ago."

"Did not his wife, then, know him?"

"Yes, from infancy they were neighbours, and early became attached to each other; and on the death of Babet's father, they married."

"Do you not think that she acted imprudently? He does not play, I allow, but do you see with what an air he watches the game? One would say that he is most anxious to take an active part in it."

“Ah, I am sure it is with great difficulty that he restrains himself. However, he has made so many promises of reformation to his wife and mother, that we must hope he will remain firm to the last. A wise man would go away, but it is not my place to turn him out."

"His countenance is prepossessing."

"And it does not belie him, I assure you. Excepting the love of gambling and drink. ing, he possesses excellent qualities. He is the cleverest gardener in St. Cyr, gentle as a lamb, a good husband, a good son; so obliging that he would sacrifice everything to serve his friends, and it is this which ruins him. Sought after by all, he has not sufficient firmness to shun temptation. At this moment he ought to be at home, as I hear that his wife is ill."

"There, there, he is going away; he has just taken his hat," said the waitingmaid.

The landlady made a sign with her head, which seemed to signify that he was not yet gone, and indeed, one of the players called him back, urging that without his advice he could not extricate himself from the difficulty in which he was.

"I must go away," replied the gardener.

"One more minute, Pierre, or you never were my friend; drink this glass of wine and look at my game."

The weak Pierre, whose head was no longer clear, had just resumed his place near the gambler, when one of his female neighbours said to him, in a solemn tone, "Thank God, Pierre, for your wife has just made you the father of a fine boy."

"What, really!" cried Pierre, almost weeping for joy. "I will run to her, my good neighbour."

He rose his friend compelled him to sit down again, and to continue directing him; but the gardener, agitated by the news he had just heard, acquitted himself so badly, that he occasioned his losing the game, contrary to all expectation. The player, in anger, gave him his cards, and withdrew, saying, “If you do not repair the fault you have committed, I will never forgive you."

It was in vain Pierre tried to detain him; deafened by the clamours of the other players, he felt compelled to engage with them, although he reproached himself for

his weakness. He was happily successful, and allowed himself to be so deluded by wine and the favours of fortune, that he had forgotten everything else, when a second messenger announced to him the birth of a daughter.

"Oh, oh!" replied Pierre Chiron, half intoxicated, "is this boy, then, a girl?" "I tell you that you have now both," replied the woman. "Babet has given

birth to two children."

"Two!" cried the gardener, a little surprised. "Ah, good woman, you see double."

"It is you who see double, wretched drunkard !” replied the messenger. "But see if he will leave his cards for that! Ah! poor Babet, what will become of you, with a family already so numerous !"

"What will become of her?" repeated Pierre. who will take care of her and her little one?"

"Who? my wife? Is it not I

"Say rather, little ones,” said a boy of the company, laughing at him, "for they say she has two."

"Two!" repeated Pierre, a second time, without well knowing what he said. “Ah, well, what is that to me? I shall plant a second bed of asparagus or of mushrooms, and then-dear me! let happen what may. A marriage of pique-no, a marriage of affection. Here, I hold the knave for the king; I have played enough, my boys; after this move I shall go and see Babet."

His judgment was no longer cool, and yet he continued to win, so much did fortune favour him that evening; the more absorbed he was in the game the more foolish he became. They made a circle round him, to see how his triumph would end; for he had already beaten all the players, one after the other. At length an old woman, penetrating the crowd to reach him, was recognised as Simone, his own mother. She began by looking at Pierre's companions with an indignant air, who she knew had drawn him into that unreasonable excess, and fixing her eyes on him with severity" What are you doing here?" she said. "Is this the place for a good husband whose wife is in danger? Leave all these madmen, who laugh at your folly, and come to bless your three children; for it is true enough there are at this moment three in your house."

These words dissipated at once the infatuation of Pierre, who was thunder-struck by them. Two children! that is a great deal for a poor young wife, though a strong and courageous mother may undertake to nurse them; but three! that is too heavy a burden. Pierre Chiron threw the cards on the table, and followed his mother, without uttering a single word. The bystanders had no longer any desire to laugh at his expense.

CHAPTER IV.

THE PROPOSAL.

On the morning which succeeded that eventful night, Hersilia did not fail to tell her mistress that a mother had given birth to three infants; nor did she forget to mention the father's disgraceful conduct on the occasion.

"Are the family in want?" the lady asked.

"It appears they have hitherto been supported by their own labour," replied the

servant, "and that they are held in esteem; although, in my opinion, the husband's weakness makes him very contemptible, if I may judge by his conduct last night." "It may be, perhaps, only a moment of forgetfulness, and not an habitual sin; but this young woman cannot nurse her three babies."

"I am told, however, that she intends undertaking it, which has excited the compassion of every one. It is said she will sink under it."

"Is there a girl amongst them?"

"One girl and two boys, ma'am; all three as lovely as angels."

"You have seen them, then?"

Yes, ma'am; the landlady, in coming from church, visited the gardener's wife, and I accompanied her."

"What do you think of the people?"

"That they deserve the blessing of Heaven and the interest of benevolent persons. The young mother has an air of innocence and sweetness which one does not tire of contemplating, and I never saw a woman whose countenance better portrayed honesty than that of the husband's mother, who is called Dame Simone. Indeed, the husband himself, good-for-nothing though he be, made the tears come into my eyes, for we found him on his knees at the bedside of the poor invalid, entreating her pardon in an affectionate and penitent tone, which seemed to come from his very heart; but we know how much the promises of a gambler are worth."

"You make me wish to know the family, Hersilia; perhaps something may be done for them in their present difficulties."

Ah, ma'am, is it not always easy for those who are rich to succour those who are not? It is a sad thing to have only one nurse when three are needed; without her neighbours the poor woman would not know what to do."

M. Philéas, equally benevolent as his sister, consented with pleasure to the proposal that she made, to begin the day with that visit of charity, for they at once decided upon relieving the young mother by giving her the means of putting out two of her babes to nurse. Whilst they are at breakfast and discussing this project, I invite the reader to precede them, and introduce themselves, with me, to the poor dwelling of Pierre Chiron.

Although humble, its aspect was neither revolting nor sad, because cleanliness and order were seen around. Simone, extremely active, was removing all traces of the derangement which the event of the preceding night had occasioned. Babet, lying in sheets as white as snow, had by her side the last born of her children, and at her feet two others asleep in the same cradle. Every now and then she extended her arm over the one, and turned her eyes languidly towards the others, with an expression of emotion and joy, which added a charm to her regular and interesting features. Pierre Chiron, quite different from what we have depicted him, was coming and going without noise; sometimes assisting his mother, and sometimes casting a look of tenderness on his wife and children. A window, with small panes of glass, admitted sufficient light into the room to banish the darkness, and allowed the carefully cultivated garden to be seen, which supported the family.

Pierre, perceiving that Babet followed him with her eyes, seated himself by her bedside, took one of her hands between his, and asked, with affection, if she forgave him.