ne day, not long after our visit to William, he went again to see
him; and when he came back I saw by the musk-plant in his hand the
news he brought. Its flowers were lovelier than ever, but its master
was transplanted into a heavenly garden, and he had left it to me.

Mortal man does not learn any virtue in one lesson; and I have only
too often in my life been ungrateful both to GOD and man. But
the memory of lame William has often come across me when I have been
tempted to grumble about small troubles; and has given me a little
help (not to be despised) in striving after the grace of Thankfulness,
even for a "bit of green."

MONSIEUR THE
VISCOUNT'S FRIEND.

A TALE IN THREE CHAPTERS.

"Sweet are the vses of aduersitie
Which like the toad, ougly and venemous,
Weares yet a precious lewell in his head."
AS YOU LIKE IT: A.D. 1623.

CHAPTER I.

It was the year of grace 1779. In one of the most beautiful corners of
beautiful France stood a grand old chateau. It was a fine old
building, with countless windows large and small, with high-pitched
roofs and pointed towers, which in good taste or bad, did its best to
be everywhere ornamental, from the gorgon heads which frowned from its
turrets to the long row of stables and the fantastic dovecotes. It
stood (as became such a castle) upon an eminence, and looked down.
Very beautiful indeed was what it looked upon. Terrace below terrace
glowed with the most brilliant flowers, and broad flights of steps led
from one garden to the other. On the last terrace of all, fountains
and jets of water poured into one large basin, in which were gold and
silver fish. Beyond this were shady walks, which led to a lake on
which floated water-lilies and swans. From the top of the topmost
flight of steps you could see the blazing gardens one below the other,
the fountains and the basin, the walks and the lake, and beyond these
the trees, and the smiling country, and the blue sky of France.

Within the castle, as without, beauty reigned supreme. The sunlight,
subdued by blinds and curtains, stole into rooms furnished with every
grace and luxury that could be procured in a country that then
accounted itself the most highly-civilized in the world. It fell upon
beautiful flowers and beautiful china, upon beautiful tapestry and
pictures; and it fell upon Madame the Viscountess, sitting at her
embroidery. Madame the Viscountess was not young, but