esbytere," he
devoured books, all sorts of books,--indeed, all the books he could get
hold of in his uncle's well-stocked library. And many an hour of his
sunny boyhood did he pass at the window in the house where he was born,
gazing dreamily at the mullions, arches, and fretted work of the old
Cathedral, or at the distant flight of the swallows, while in his mind
he dwelt upon some brilliant _saillie_ of Montaigne or Rabelais. His
marked fondness for sketching showed itself in numerous and picturesque
outlines, all of which bore the unmistakable stamp of talent, and
foretold in the exuberance of the boy-fancy what the man would be.
Happily for him, happily for us who are allowed to gather up the crumbs
of art and authorship which fell from his ample store, Toepffer enjoyed
the very best and most propitious advantages which in any country can
bless childhood. He was born in the lap of a society daintily
intellectual and fastidiously cultivated. His very first impressions
were those of refinement. His very first steps were directed towards
culture. There was no arid waste around him, and he had not to cut his
way through the newly broken furrows of a young civilization. He was
taken by the hand of Genius at the very outset of his career, and was
never allowed to falter; for in the successive creations of his pencil
and of his pen there is the same fulness of imagination, the same
delicacy of observation, the same exquisite perfection of analysis. He
seems to have understood so well the power of his mind, that he never
ventured beyond his depth, but sustained himself through all his years
of authorship with the same grace and elegance.

And nowhere could he have better artistic encouragement and emulation
than in his native city. We do not remember who said that "in Geneva
every child is born an artist," but the statement would bear
investigation. Talent as well as taste for drawing and painting is
almost universal, and belongs as well to the poor as to the rich. It
may not be well known that De Candolle, the celebrated and untiring
Genevese botanist, made use, in a course of lectures, of a valuable
collection of tropical American plants, intrusted to his care by a
Spanish botanist. Unfortunately, the herbarium was needed by its owner
sooner than expected, and Professor De Candolle was requested to send it
back. This he stated to his audience, with many a regret for so
irreparable a loss. But some of the ladies present at