One, to speak properly, personifies the genius of evil. Scepticism, wicked irony, hardness of heart, corruption of mind and senses, egotism and cupidity, united in forming a modern corypheus. The other personifies the spirit of good. Truth, purity, self-abnegation, love of God and man, the spirit of sacrifice and mortification, in a word, all of moral grandeur revealed to man by Christ himself, has rarely an exemplifier more perfect. One is the type of the Christian, elevating himself to the saints, to the angels; the other is the anti-Christian type, descending to the cursed, to the demons. Each has attracted the attention of man by the most opposite means: the first by his delicacy of wit equalling his duplicity; the second by his integrity and a simplicity of character brightened apparently by supernatural rays; the first by his pride, the second by his humility; the first by noise, the second by silence. Each has exercised toward his contemporaries results the most contrary. The refined in wickedness, the utterly corrupted, visited the scholar to plunge deeper in perversity. Entire populations, just men and men of good will, visited the priest to establish themselves in justice, or submit their doubts to him, and go on toward perfection. Both still effect by their minds and their remembrance--from one portion of the world to the other--the same consequences. And that is not all. The world flies from the first, as his character and doctrines become better elucidated. It approaches the second, as he is better known, and the beauty of his character developed. Ferney was abandoned shortly after the death of him who was its centre; the factitious or true admiration accorded him by the most brilliant and perverted of his age could not survive the perishable attraction which Voltaire exercised. To-day Ferney is only visited by amateurs in human curiosity. Ars, on the contrary, grows greater and greater. The sentiment which attracts people thither increases hour by hour, and the entire world knows the name of the obscure village, whose echo even seems to arouse the most indifferent. Multitudes flock there incessantly, and when Ferney and the memory of Voltaire, the hero of impiety of the last age, shall by degrees have disappeared, Ars and the memory of its curé, the hero of truth and of the present age, will attract still greater crowds, still greater homage.