mind undertake from which mine would shrink? What application could be demanded to which I was not equal--prepared--eager to submit? Where lay my difficulty? I saw none: or if I did for an instant, it was exterminated before the imperious resolution I had formed to exalt and enrich my beloved and loving benefactor. Tender as a parent to me, this incomparable man was at the same time diligent and attentive as a domestic. He would permit me to do nothing to impede the easy and natural course of study. He shamed me by his affectionate assiduity, but silenced me ever by referring to the _Future_, when he looked, he confessed, for a repayment for all his care and love. What could I say of do in answer to this appeal? What but reiterate the vow which I had taken, never to desert him, and to fight my way upwards that he might share the glory he had earned. A day arrived when I was compelled for a time to leave him; for I had been received as _interne_ at the Hotel Dieu. It was hard parting, especially for the poor water-carrier, who dreaded losing sight of me for ever. I gave him an assurance of my constancy; and consoled him by the information that another and last examination yet awaited me, for which a certain sum of money would be required. He promised to have it ready by the hour, and conjured me to take all care of myself--and to learn to love religion; for I must tell you, Sebastian was a pious man--a conscientious Christian. "Once at the hospital, I sought profitable employment, and obtained it. In the course of a few months I had earned a sum--dearer, more valuable to me than all I have since acquired. It was insignificant in itself, but it purchased for my Sebastian his long wished-for treasure--the horse and water-cart. I took it to him; and when I approached him, I had not a word to say, for my grateful heart was in my throat strangling my utterance. He threw his arms about my neck, cried, laughed, thanked, scolded, blessed, and reproached me, all in the wildness and delirium of his delight. 'Why did you do it?' said he, 'oh it was kind and loving in you!--very kind and foolish--and wrong, and generous, and extravagant--dear, good, naughty boy! I am very angry with you; but I love you for it dearly. How you are getting on! I knew you would. I said so from the first. You will do wonders--you will be rich at last. You want no man's help--you have done it all yourself.' "'No, Sebastian!' I exclaimed, 'you have done it for me.' "'Don't deceive me--don't flatter me,' he answered. 'I have been able to do very little for you--not half what I wished. You would have been great without me. I have looked upon you, and loved you as my own boy, and all that was selfishness.'