use, that he had not forgotten
the family so largely indebted to him for their happiness. The letter
was dated "Rome." Father Paul said that such services as he had been
permitted to render to the Church in Brittany had obtained for him a
new and a far more glorious trust than any he had yet held. He had been
recalled from his curacy, and appointed to be at the head of a mission
which was shortly to be dispatched to convert the inhabitants of a
savage and far distant land to the Christian faith. He now wrote, as his
brethren with him were writing, to take leave of all friends forever
in this world, before setting out--for it was well known to the chosen
persons intrusted with the new mission that they could only hope to
advance its object by cheerfully risking their own lives for the sake
of their religion. He gave his blessing to Francois Sarzeau, to Gabriel,
and to his family; and bade them affectionately farewell for the last
time.

There was a postscript to the letter, which was addressed to Perrine,
and which she often read afterward with tearful eyes. The writer begged
that, if she should have any children, she would show her friendly and
Christian remembrance of him by teaching them to pray (as he hoped she
herself would pray) that a blessing might attend Father Paul's labors in
the distant land.

The priest's loving petition was never forgotten. When Perrine taught
its first prayer to her first child, the little creature was instructed
to end the few simple words pronounced at its mother's knees, with, "God
bless Father Paul."

In those words the nun concluded her narrative. After it was ended, she
pointed to the old wooden cross, and said to me:

"That was one of the many that he made. It was found, a few years since,
to have suffered so much from exposure to the weather that it was unfit
to remain any longer in its old place. A priest in Brittany gave it
to one of the nuns in this convent. Do you wonder now that the Mother
Superior always calls it a Relic?"

"No," I answered. "And I should have small respect indeed for the
religious convictions of any one who could hear the story of that wooden
cross, and not feel that the Mother Superior's name for it is the very
best that could have been chosen."

PROLOGUE TO THE SIXTH STORY.

On the last occasion when I made a lengthened stay in London, my wife
and I were surprised and amused one morning by the receipt of the
following note, addressed to me in a