Sainte-Beuve, not in his essay on Beranger (which, in appreciating, somewhat depreciates the poet), but among the interesting things that, under the title "Chateaubriana," he prints at the close of his monograph in two volumes on Chateaubriand, has the following personal recollection of his own, which, given here, will serve a threefold purpose; that of hinting incidentally the relation of four celebrated French authors to one another, that of illustrating the ready fecundity and plasticity of Victor Hugo's genius, and that of setting forth in concrete example Beranger's master method in his songs, which master method is essentially Beranger, the song-writer, himself. Sainte-Beuve says--of course we translate: Victor Hugo, returning one morning from the garden of the Luxembourg (1828 or 1829) said to me: "If I should see Beranger, I would give him the subject of a pretty song. I just now met M. de Chateaubriand in the Luxembourg; he did not see me; he was wrapt in thought, intently observing some children who, seated on the ground, were playing and tracing figures in the sand. If I were Beranger I would make a song on the subject: 'I have been minister, I have been ambassador, etc., I wear the decoration of the Order of the Holy Ghost, that of the Order of the Golden Fleece, that of the order of St. Andrew, etc.; and one sole thing at last amuses me: it is to watch children playing in the sand. I wrote "Rene," I wrote the "Genius of Christianity," I stood up against Napoleon, I opened the poetic era of the century, etc.; and I know only one thing that amuses me: to watch children at play upon the sand. I have seen America, I have seen Greece and Rome, I have seen Jerusalem, etc.' And after each enumeration of various experiences, forms of greatness or of honor, all kept returning still to this: to watch children playing and tracing circles in the sand." The plan sketched by Victor Hugo was perfect, far better than I have given it here; but the motive is plain, the idea of the refrain. Never have I had better defined to me the difference that separates the song, even the most elevated in character, from the ode properly so-called.