rable scholars, should be compelled to go for instruction to a young and ignorant waiter at an inn.
"I will conclude. Before my friend had yet celebrated his marriage, my Euphemie took the veil. On the same day, we had thus arranged it, I caused myself to be received into the bosom of her church. At first I intended to become a monk, but as I had delayed, I suffered myself to be consecrated a priest at a distance, and was transferred to this solitary part of the mountains. Since then, I have never heard of my friends, of Euphemie; I even wished to avoid ever seeing them again, that I might not renew the pains of deep, vital wounds. And yet it is but weakness, to turn away from the path of sorrow."—It had become dark, and the two friends repaired to the lighted room, to partake of the little evening meal. The young peasants who had been there before, reentered, and led with them a young and beautiful girl. The latter shewed the pastor the
