It is time we visit the humble dwelling of the man of genius, who, his wanderings now over, has quietly settled down, and is entering on the earnest business of life, full of that spiritual sense of power which begets hopefulness, and, at the same time, simple-hearted and loving as a child. Bernard’s studio was no other than a small out-house, in which he wrought at his occupation, and beyond which was a little garden, filled with the choice plants and herbs he met with in his rambles through the woods and pasture lands around Saintes. The evening hour has just set in, bringing with it rest and relaxation, and the artist has laid aside his tools and is fondling the little Nicole, his eldest born; while his eyes glance lovingly towards his young wife, who, delicate and slightly formed, looks but ill-fitted to endure the troubles of life—we must add, the troubles peculiar to the wife of a genius. For the present, however, the evil days have not come upon her, and she replies with looks of pleasure to his fond words. He is telling her of the glorious ramble he has had in the early morning, and of the treasures he has seen and gathered. A large earthen pot stands on his work-bench, filled with flowers and foliage, and his pencil has been diligently occupied in imitating the bright colors and elegant forms of these wild plants, with the minute accuracy of a naturalist. Lisette has opened his portfolio, and is turning over the loose sketches it contains; butterflies, lizards, beetles, and many other wild creatures are there—all drawn from nature, and true to the smallest tracery-work upon the insects’ wings. To her exclamation of delight he answers, “Truly, it is a great recreation to those who will contemplate admiringly the wondrous works of nature, and methinks I could find nothing better than to employ one’s-self in the art of agriculture, and to glorify God, and to admire him in his marvels. As I walked along the avenues, and under the foliage of the chestnuts, I heard the murmuring waters of a brook which passes at the foot of the hill; and on the other side the voices of the young birds warbling among the trees; then there came to my memory that 104th Psalm, where the prophet says, ‘He sendeth the springs into the valleys, which run among the hills;’ also, he says, ‘By them shall the fowls of the heaven have their habitation, which sing among the branches.’”