I inspected everything with an interest inspired by all I had been hearing of the poor priest, and turned over the little volumes of his humble library, to trace, if I might, some due to his habits in his readings. They were all, however, of one cast and character--religious tracts and offices, covered with annotations and remarks, and showing by many signs the most careful and frequent perusal. It was easy to see that his taste for drawing or for chess were the only dissipations he permitted himself to indulge. What a strange life of privation, thought I, alone and companionless as he must be! and while speculating on the sense of duty which impelled such a man to accept a post so humble and unpromising, I perceived that on the wall right opposite to me there hung a picture, covered by a little curtain of green silk. Curious to behold the saintly effigy so carefully enshrined, I drew aside the curtain, and what was my astonishment to find a little coloured sketch of a boy about twelve years old, dressed in the tawdry and much-worn uniform of a drummer. I started. Something flashed suddenly across my mind, that the features, the dress, the air, were not unknown to me. Was I awake, or were my senses misleading me? I took it down and held it to the light, and as well as my trembling hands permitted, I spelled out at the foot of the drawing, the words ‘Le Petit Maurice, as I saw him last.’ Yes, it was my own portrait, and the words were in the writing of my dearest friend in the world, the Père Michel. Scarce knowing what I did, I ransacked books and papers on every side, to confirm my suspicions, and although his name was nowhere to be found, I had no difficulty in recognising his hand, now so forcibly recalled to my memory. Hastening into the kitchen, I told my guide that I must set out to Murrah at once, that it was, above all, important that I should see the priest immediately. It was in vain that he told me he was unequal to the fatigue of going farther, that the storm was increasing, the mountain torrents were swelling to a formidable size, that the path could not be discovered after dark; I could not brook the thought of delay, and would not listen to the detail of difficulties. ‘I must see him and I will,’ were my answers to every obstacle. If I were resolved on one side, he was no less obstinate on the other; and after explaining with patience all the dangers and hazards of the attempt, and still finding me unconvinced, he boldly declared that I might go alone, if I would, but that he would not leave the shelter of a roof, such a night, for any one.