providence now calleth me.” “It is our purpose to journey before long to Paris,” said the Sire, “and you can, if you think fit, accompany us. The time is but short, ten days or a fortnight, at the utmost; but, I doubt not, you will be in readiness.” This friendly proposal was gratefully accepted, and, at the time appointed, Palissy bade farewell to Saintes, and, accompanied by his two sons, set off for the French capital, which was thenceforward to be his place of residence. It was with a full heart that he left the city which had been, for so many years, his home; where his children had been born, and where he had served his long apprenticeship of sorrow and trial, and eventually triumphed over all the obstacles that threatened to overwhelm him, and to blight his fond expectations. As he returned, the evening before his departure, from visiting the graves of his wife and their six little ones, while meditating, and slowly and pensively moving onward, he was overtaken by Victor, who had gone in search of him, anxious to spend the last few hours in his company. They returned together, and Victor announced to his friend a most unexpected piece of tidings. “I shall not remain here long after you have gone,” he exclaimed, with unwonted energy, his pale face flushed and eager. “A kinsman of mine has this very afternoon brought me a communication which will lead to my removal hence, probably within a few months. Had you not been leaving I should have felt it a grief indeed, but now, it is well; for I could scarcely have borne your loss.” “What has befallen, and where will you go?” asked Bernard, in his quick manner. “My eldest brother was killed (as you know) last year, in one of the murderous assaults upon those of our religion. He has left a young family, and his poor wife, who has never recovered the shock of his death, is now sinking rapidly. She entreats me, through the kinsman she has sent, to go back to my native place, and to undertake the care of my brother’s children. They will inherit the small property which was our father’s, and which would, in all probability, be soon dissipated in the hands of strangers. I have myself no family; and my wife, loving soul, will be a true mother to these poor orphans. It seems the voice of our heavenly Father, which is saying to us, ‘Arise and go hence.’” “I have never heard you speak of your early days, Victor.” “True; I was thinking, as I came hither, of my boyhood. Happy time, and happy household ours, where comfort and content reigned! The property on which we all subsisted was very small; but order, domestic arrangement, labour, and frugality, kept us above want. Our little garden produced nearly as many vegetables as we required, and the orchard yielded us fruits. Our quinces, apples, and pears, preserved, with the honey of our bees, were, in winter, most excellent breakfasts for us children, and the good old women, our grandmother and aunts. We