stes, but instincts.

    tic, my eyes rested on ttle almanac ten in large letters: quot;FEtE DIEU!quot;

    It is to-day! In t city, o remind us of it; but it is,in trutive c;t in or,quot; says Ceaubriand, quot; a time ties;t a single  in t;

    recollections t a off , I leaned my elbo to ttle town w daysof my childhood were passed.

    te Dieu  events of my life! It o be diligent and obedient a long time beforeo deserveto s. I still recollect  raptures of expectation Igot up on tapestry, along treets. I  from one to anoturns admiring religious scenes of tions of ttles in tyle of Louis XIV,and tomsseemed to be coming fort of past ages, to assist--silentand motionless--at ternately in fear and terrible iful resses sing t tin breece at t oftually smiling simes,  seemed to me t tco see tacake t transitory. t predominated over everyot of an overflo quiet joy. In t of all ting draperies, ttered flotransported in spite of yourself. tival ed in your , in a t, more  only manifesting, but also hin us.

    And tars for triump competition among tparision of ting-places  e t and t beautifulof his possessions!

    It  sacrifice!

    ted, and tabernacle dressed  one ing fit to cro ree givenme by my motc for several monto bloree. t , t of sucations, and of all acated for some moments. No one ; I mig. I s onerose noiselessly  I alone to keep back my treasure? Ougo grudge to God one ofts  t I plucked tem, and took it to put attop of tabernacle. Aion of t so s to me, now m