To wind up with, just now as I was coming home after dinner, I passed a workman and his family in the Rue Bonaparte, and the man pointed after me, saying: "Look! there goes a poet." He was right. In me the lawyer's clerk is in abeyance, the lawyer of to- morrow has disappeared, only the poet is left--that is to say, the essence of youth freed from the parasitic growths of everyday life. I feel it roused and stirring. How sweet life is, and what wonderful instruments we are, that Hope can make us thus vibrate by a touch of her little finger! ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: Happy men don't need company Lends--I should say gives Natural only when alone, and talk well only to themselves One doesn't offer apologies to a man in his wrath Silence, alas! is not the reproof of kings alone The looks of the young are always full of the future You a law student, while our farmers are in want of hands