The moment he was gone I exclaimed eagerly, “Who is that?” “One of the best and greatest men in the world,” replied Father Bonneville, “That is Lavater.” I would fain have asked more questions, but good Father Bonneville was evidently not in a mood for further conversation that night. The visit of Lavater had pleased him—had interested him; but things had been said while it lasted which had afforded him matter for deep thought—nay, I am not sure but I might say, painful thought. I could tell quite well by his aspect when there was any vehement struggle going on in the good man’s mind, and from all I saw I thought that such was the case now. A few days after, he went to call upon Lavater, who was living in the same town, but he did not take me with him. Lavater came again and again to see him, and they had long conversations together, at some of which I was present, at others not; and still there seemed to be a struggle in Father Bonneville’s mind. He was very grave and silent, though as kind and as gentle as ever—fell often into deep reveries, and sometimes did not hear when I spoke to him. At length, one day, when I returned somewhat earlier than usual from my afternoon rambles, I found him bent over a table reading attentively, and coming in front of him, I perceived not only that the tears were in his eyes, but that some of them had dropped upon the page. He did not at all attempt to conceal his emotion, but wiped his eyes and spectacles deliberately, and then laying his hand flat upon the page, he looked into my face, saying, “Louis, you must read this book; let men say what they will, it was written for man’s instruction—for his happiness—for his salvation. It contains all that is necessary for him; and beyond this, there is nothing.” I looked over his shoulder and found that it was the Bible. “I thought I had read it long ago,” added Father Bonneville, “but I now find that I have never read it half enough.” “I will read it very willingly, Father,” I replied, “but Father Mezieres to whom you sent me preparatory to my first communion, told me, that if not an actual sin, it was great presumption in a layman to read any part of it but the New Testament.” “Mind not that, my son,” replied Father Bonneville. “It is hard to struggle with old prejudices; to root out from our minds ideas planted in our youth, which have grown with our growth and strengthened with our strength. But in this book there is life, there is light, and God forbid that any man should be prevented from drinking the waters of life freely.” A faint smile came upon his face as he spoke, and after a moment’s pause, he continued, saying, “Do you know, Louis, I am going to become a boy again, and recommence my studies from a new point. Some months hence I will talk with you further, and every day in the mean time I will have my lesson.”