But we have not yet come to the door of our hero. There is another native of the Landes whose fame has gone out through the whole earth--whose whole life and aim were in utter contrast with the spirit of these old lords of the heather. The only armor he ever put on was that of righteousness; the only sword, that of the truth; the only jewel, that which the old rabbis say Abraham wore, the light of which raised up the bowed down and healed the sick, and, after his death, was placed among the stars! It need not be said we refer to S. Vincent de Paul, the great initiator of public charity in France, who by his benevolence perhaps effected as much for the good of the kingdom as Richelieu with his political genius. He was born during the religious conflicts of the XVIth century, in the little hamlet of Ranquine, in the parish of Pouy, on the border of the Landes, a few miles from Dax. It must not be supposed the _particule_ in his name is indicative of nobility. In former times people who had no name but that given them at the baptismal font often added the place of their birth to prevent confusion. S. Vincent was the son of a peasant, and spent his childhood in watching his father’s scanty flock among the moors. The poor cottage in which he was born is still standing, and near it the gigantic old oak to the hollow of which he used to retire to pray, both of which are objects of veneration to the pious pilgrim of all ranks and all lands. Somewhere in these vast solitudes--whether among the ruins of Notre Dame de Buglose, destroyed a little before by the Huguenots, or in his secret oratory in the oak, we cannot say--he heard the mysterious voice which once whispered to Joan of Arc among the forests of Lorraine--a voice difficult to resist, which decided his vocation in life. He resolved to enter the priesthood. The Franciscans of Dax lent him books and a cell, and gave him a pittance for the love of God; but he finished his studies and took his degree at Toulouse, as was only discovered by papers found after his death, so unostentatious was his life. He partly defrayed his expenses at Toulouse by becoming the tutor of some young noblemen of Buzet. Near the latter place was a solitary mountain chapel in the woods, not far from the banks of the Tarn, called Notre Dame de Grâce. Its secluded position, the simplicity of its decorations, and the devotion he experienced in this quiet oratory, attracted the pious student, and he often retired there to pray before the altar of Our Lady of Grace. It was there he found strength to take upon himself the yoke of the priesthood--a yoke angels might fear to bear. It was there, in solitude and silence, assisted by a priest and a clerk, that he offered his first Mass; for, so terrified was he by the importance and sublimity of this divine function, he had not the courage to celebrate it in public. This chapel is still standing, and is annually crowded with pilgrims on the festival of S. Vincent of Paul. It is good