"Indeed he is, my good man, a most uncommon master to meet with. Now, as chance has brought you among us, and a strange though a lucky chance for you it has proved, lying out of the highroad as this village does, it is so very seldom any stranger ever finds it out. Well, I was going to say, here you are, and no fault to find with your quarters, is there? Now, in all human probability, when you turn your back upon the place you will never return to it, but you shall not depart without hearing from me a description of our master and all he has done for the farm, upon condition that you promise to repeat it again wherever you go, and to whomsoever you may meet with. You will see, I mean, I beg pardon, you will then be able to understand." "I listen to you," answered the Schoolmaster; "proceed." "And I can promise you you will not be throwing away your time by listening," replied the venerable Châtelain. "Now, one day our master thought all at once: 'Here am I, rich enough to eat two dinners a day if I liked, but I don't. Now, suppose I were to provide a meal for those who have none at all, and enable such as can hardly procure half a dinner to enjoy as much good food as they desired, would not that be better than over-indulging myself? So it shall be,' says he, and away he goes to work, and, first thing, he buys this farm, which was not much of a concern then, and scarcely kept a couple of ploughs at work; and, being born and bred on the place, I ought to know something about it. Next, master made considerable additions to the farm. I'll tell you all about that by and by. At the head of the farm he placed a most worthy and respectable female, who had known a great deal of trouble in her past life--master always chose out people for their goodness and their misfortunes--and, when he brought the person I am telling you of here, he said to her in my hearing, 'I wish this place to be like the Temple of our great Maker, open to the deserving and the afflicted, but closed against the wicked and hardened reprobate.' So idle beggars are always turned from the gate; but those who are able and willing to work have always the opportunity set before them: the charity of labour, our master says, is no humiliation to him who receives it, but a favour and service conferred on the person whose labour is thus done; and the rich man who does not act upon this principle but ill employs his wealth. So said our master. But he did more than talk--he acted. There was formerly a road from here to Ecouen, which cut off a good mile of distance, but, Lord love you! it was one great rutty bog, impossible to get up or down it; it was the death of every horse, and certain destruction to every vehicle that attempted to pass through it. A little labour, and a trifling amount of money from each farmer in the adjoining country would soon have repaired the road; but they never could be brought to any unanimity on the subject, and, in proportion as one farmer would be