allude to its former uses, without paying much heed to them. I believe they reminded one another that not only wild beasts but Christians had formerly been put to death there, for the recreation of those who were wild beasts themselves; and my father said how he hated the Sunday bull-fights that took place there still, and never would let me go near them; on which I put in soberly, "I never want to, father."

"Thou art a steady lad, I'll warrant thee," said M. Bourdinave, approvingly. "Hold fast the form of sound words which hath been given thee in faith and love which is in Christ Jesus."

"Ay, ay, sir," said I, whipping old Réné smartly. And in another minute we were thumping and bumping over great paving-stones, too noisily for conversation to be carried on, and getting into a mêlée of carts, wagons, and horsemen, all bound for Beaucaire. The women were now in great delight, looking from side to side, commenting on the dress of one, the equipage of another, nodding to acquaintance, and crying "O, look!" to each other, when they saw anything beyond common. I had enough to do, I assure you, to steer a straight course; and M. Bourdinave observing it, remarked that he hoped I should be equally vigilant in steering a straight course through life, which made me cry "Ay, ay, sir," and set me thinking.

When the road became a little quieter, I heard him and my father discussing the price of cocoons, the superiority of good cocoons to cocalons, dupions, and soufflons; which last, I need not tell you, are very imperfect cocoons; dupions have two threads, and confuse one with another; and pointed cocoons are apt to break in the winding. But all these, as you know, are turned to account by the silk-spinner, and worked up into stockings, sewing-silk, and handkerchiefs. But the good cocoons that yield a strong, thick, compact filament, are appropriated by the silk-throwsters.

But this trade-talk was interrupted by cries of amused delight from the women, and on looking about to see what tickled their fancies, they pointed out to us a most extraordinary figure, standing bolt upright in a cart. He was tall and meagre, and wore a long black robe and tall pointed cap, both of which appeared spangled with silver; instead of which, they were studded with steel buttons, needles, and pins, of which he was an itinerant vendor. I believe the women would have purchased largely of him, had my father let me stop.

Next we came up with a little house upon wheels, drawn by a sorry horse, and on the wooden wall of the said house was depicted, many sizes larger than life, a great human tooth, with bleeding fangs. Beneath was an inscription that the owner of the cart was a traveling dentist, who drew teeth without the least pain.

Alice, the maid, had instantly a great desire to let him draw a troublesome tooth of hers which, she took pains to assure us, was not impaired by natural decay, but only accidentally broken in cracking a cherry-stone. "The edge is so rough," said she, "that it hurts my tongue; and since this honest gentleman can extract it painlessly, I have a great mind to try his hand."

"Plenty of time for that when we get to Beaucaire," said M. Bourdinave. "Sure, you would not have a tooth drawn in the middle of the high road?"

"Truly, I should not mind it, inside that nice little wooden house," said she.

But no, she was not allowed to do so; and, to console her, Madeleine uncovered a little basket she carried on her arm, and discovered cherries as red as her own lips, nestling in dark green leaves. "Here," said she, cheerfully, "are some stones to take your revenge on."

"Ah, what beauties," cried Alice, taking a few; and the basket being handed round, we were soon all eating cherries; and Gabrielle asked me if I did not wish she had the gift of St. Marguerite.

"I do not know what gift you mean," said I, turning half round, and looking full at her.

"Once on a time," said the lively girl, "the foolish story goes, that two saints, who were brother and sister, lived in separate monasteries; but the brother was frequently visited by his sister, on the pretence of seeking spiritual advice. Their names were St. Honorat and St. Marguerite. At length the brother grew rather tired of his sister's visits, and called them a waste of time. 'Henceforth, let it suffice that I shall visit you occasionally, said he. 'When?' said St. Marguerite. 'When the cherry-trees blossom,' said St Honorat. Thereupon, St. Marguerite prayed that the cherry-trees might blossom once a month, which they did; so her brother acknowledged himself outwitted."

"Fie for shame, daughter," said M. Bourdinave, with displeasure. "I am grieved that you should remember and repeat such lying legends."

"Dear father, they exercise the fancy—"

"Exercise the fancy, indeed! Let fancy confine herself to her own province. She is a good servant, but a bad mistress. The Jews exercised their fancies in the wild Talmudical fables. What said our Saviour of them? 'Ye make the word of God of none effect through your traditions. Let me hear no more papistical fables."

Gabrielle hung her head, and stealing a glance that way, I saw Madeleine pass her arm round her sister's waist, and look sweetly at her, which made me think Madeleine more attractive than ever. M. Bourdinave did not immediately recover his equanimity, but addressing my father, said it more than ever behooved good Reformers to walk warily, and not give in to any of the ensnaring practices of the surrounding Catholics. "Little by little they are stealing in on us already," said he, "and, if our sagacious men are to be believed, a time of trouble is preparing for us that may perhaps not fall very short of the massacre on the day of St. Bartholomew."

"Still," said my father, "we are under the protection of the Edict of Nantes."

"Edicts may be set aside," said M. Bourdinave, in a lowered voice, which yet I heard, being next him. "Only think how we have been annoyed and injured the last two or three years, by edicts differing greatly from the Edict of Nantes. That one, for instance, which rendered us liable to the intrusion of Catholics into our temples, to spy at our observances, pick up scraps of our sermons, and report them incorrectly. What advantage the rabble have taken of it!"

"Too true," said my father, gravely.

"Last year," pursued M. Bourdinave, "that attempted confederacy for mutual protection, when all our closed meetinghouses were reopened for worship, showed what temper our adversaries were of."

"It was an ill-considered measure," said my father, slowly.

"Ill-conducted, rather," said M. Bourdinave. "The act should have been simultaneous; whereas the want of concert among our people betrayed their weakness, and laid them open to attack. The military at Bordeaux acted with shocking barbarity."

"I do not like to think upon it," said my father. "I trust there will be no recurrence of such lamentable scenes."

"I much fear there will be, though," said M. Bourdinave, gloomily. "Satan desires to have us, that he may sift us like wheat. Let us hope to abide the trial."

At this moment a burst of noisy music, drowned their voices; and the needle-seller's horse, which was just before us, making a sudden start, the poor needle-vendor was thrown off his balance, and jerked out of his cart on to a heap of flints by the road-side, while his horse began to kick. Giving the reins to my father, I jumped out, and ran to his assistance; but he was so prickly all over, that it was difficult to lay hold of him. His needles and pins ran into my fingers in a dozen places. To make matters worse, his nose began to bleed, so that he was in a pitiable plight. However, I picked him up at last, found he was not seriously injured, gave him a clean handkerchief (which he promised to return), and started him off again in his cart, in a sitting position this time, and much crestfallen.

The throng increased as we approached Beaucaire, and when we got into the streets there was frequently a complete