After dinner we dispersed. I crept into a good bed until mass; like the heroes of Rocroy, who slept until the battle began. I was aroused by a great fat friar, who had nearly pulled my arm out of its socket, and went to the church where I found all at their posts. We played a symphony at the offertory and sung a motet at the elevation, concluding with four wind instruments. We contrived, in spite of the jests usually expended on amateurs, to get out of the difficulty very well. We received with great benignity the praises heaped on us, and having received the abbot's thanks went to the table. The dinner was such as people used to eat in the fifteenth century. There were few superfluities, but the choice of dishes was admirable. We had plain, honest, substantial stews, good meats, and dishes of vegetables, which made one regret they were not more general. The dessert was the more remarkable, as it was composed of fruits not produced at that altitude. The gardens of Machuras, of Morflent and other places had contributed. There was no want of liqueurs, but coffee needs a particular reference. It was clear, perfumed and strong, but was not served in what are called tasses on the Seine, but in huge bowls, into which the monks dipped their lips and smacked them with delight. After dinner we went to vespers, and between the psalms executed antiphones I prepared for the purpose. That style of music was then fashionable. I cannot say if mine was good or bad. Our DAY being over, my orchestra was enabled to look and walk around. On my return the abbe said, "I am about to leave you, and will suffer you to finish the night. I do not think my presence at all importunate to the fathers; but I wish them to do as they please." When the abbot had left, the monks drew more closely together, and a thousand jokes were told, not the less funny because the world knows nothing of them. About nine a glorious supper was served, long in advance of the dinner. They laughed, sang, told stories, and one of the fathers recited some very good verses he had himself composed. At last a monk arose, and said, "Father Cellarer, what have you to say?" "True," said the father, "I am not cellarer for nothing." He left, and soon returned with three servitors, the first of whom brought some glorious fresh buttered toast. The others had a table on which was a sweetened preparation of brandy and water--vulgo, punch. The new comers were received with acclamation; the company ate the toasts, drank the toddy, and when the abbey clock struck twelve, all went to their cells to enjoy a repose they had richly earned. PROSPERITY EN ROUTE. One day I rode a horse I called la Joie through the It was at the worst era of the revolution, and I went to see Mr. Prot to obtain a passport which, probably, might save me from prison or the scaffold.