been frequently repeated, reason arrives at a conclusion, applicable, not only to the mere expenditure of money, but to the use of all man’s possessions, including the faculties both of mind and body. The conclusion I mean, is, that small enjoyments often kill great ones.” That evening’s conversation I shall never forget. It afforded me much matter for thought at the time, and I have recurred to it frequently since. Another little picture stands forth about this time, clear and distinct upon the canvas of memory, and I strongly suspect that the fact I am about to mention had a great influence on my after life. We were then at Zurich, and I had been out on one summer evening for a long ramble through the hills. When I re-entered the town, it was dark, and going into the house of which we rented a part, I found a stranger sitting with Father Bonneville. He was a very remarkable man, and you could not even look at him for a moment without being struck by his appearance. His dress was exceedingly plain, consisting of a large, black, horseman’s coat, with a small cape to it, and a pair of high riding-boots; and round his neck he had a white cravat of very many folds, tied in a large bow in front. He was tall and well-proportioned, and of the middle age; but his head was the finest I think I ever beheld, and his face a perfect model of manly beauty. I shall never forget his eye—that eye so soon after to be closed in death. There was a calm intensity in it—a bright, searching, peculiar lustre which seemed to shed a light upon whatever it turned to; and when, as I entered the room, it fixed tranquilly on me, and seemed to read my face as if it were a book, the color mounted into my cheek I know not why. He remained for nearly an hour after my arrival, conversing with my good old friend and myself in a strain of sweet but powerful eloquence, such as I have never heard equaled. During a part of the time the subject was religion, and his opinions, though very strong and decided, were expressed with gentleness and forbearance; for he and Father Bonneville differed very considerably. The stranger, indeed, seemed to have the best of the argument, and I think Father Bonneville felt it too; for he became as warm as his gentle nature would permit. In the end, however, the stranger rose, and laid his hand kindly in that of the good priest. “Read, my good friend,” he said. “Read. Such a mind as yours should not shut out one ray of light which God himself has given to guide us on our way. We both appeal to the same book as the foundation of our faith, and no man can study it too much. From the benefit I myself have received from every word that it contains, I should feel, even were there not a thousand other motives for such a conclusion, that there is something wrong in that system of religion which can shut the great store-house of light and truth against the people for whose benefit it was provided.”