d the honor, as she had the
right by etiquette; but, at the moment she was about to fulfil her duty,
a lady of higher rank appeared, and in her turn took the garment she was
about to offer to the queen; when a third lady of still higher title came
in her turn, and was followed by a fourth, who was no other than the
king's sister. The chemise was in this manner passed from hand to hand,
with ceremonies, courtesies, and compliments, before it came to the
queen, who, half naked and quite ashamed, was shivering with cold for the
great honor of etiquette.

12th, seven o'clock, P.M.--On coming home this evening, I saw, standing
at the door of a house, an old man, whose appearance and features
reminded me of my father. There was the same beautiful smile, the same
deep and penetrating eye, the same noble bearing of the head, and the
same careless attitude.

I began living over again the first years of my life, and recalling to
myself the conversations of that guide whom God in his mercy had given
me, and whom in his severity he had too soon withdrawn.

When my father spoke, it was not only to bring our two minds together by
an interchange of thought, but his words always contained instruction.

Not that he endeavored to make me feel it so: my father feared everything
that had the appearance of a lesson. He used to say that virtue could
make herself devoted friends, but she did not take pupils: therefore he
was not desirous to teach goodness; he contented himself with sowing the
seeds of it, certain that experience would make them grow.

How often has good grain fallen thus into a corner of the heart, and,
when it has been long forgotten, all at once put forth the blade and come
into ear! It is a treasure laid aside in a time of ignorance, and we do
not know its value till we find ourselves in need of it.

Among the stories with which he enlivened our walks or our evenings,
there is one which now returns to my memory, doubtless because the time
is come to derive its lesson from it.

My father, who was apprenticed at the age of twelve to one of those
trading collectors who call themselves naturalists, because they put all
creation under glasses that they may sell it by retail, had always led a
life of poverty and labor. Obliged to rise before daybreak, by turns
shop-boy, clerk, and laborer, he was made to bear alone all the work of a
trade of which his master reaped all the profits. In truth, this latter
had a peculiar tal