t me from thinking of that which should be created by the imposing
spectacle of the progress of civilization, more than the pleasure I would
enjoy if I reposed by the side of a fresh spring, mysteriously concealed
amid a forest, would prevent me from loving to look on a majestic river,
down which floated the canvas of some ship, or the boilers of a steamer.
The perfection of matters would be to kindle our soul with the lights of
science, and at the same time preserve the innocent candor of our hearts.
Thus will we obey the Bible-text which says, 'You shall not enter the
Kingdom of heaven, unless you be as little children.' To be a child in
simple-heartedness, a man in toil and labor, is the end we should propose
to ourselves."

"Yes," said M. de Vermondans, "that is a truly noble object. We cannot
however expect to attain it. Pride unnoticed, is created by the very
labor of our minds, and when that poison has inoculated our hearts,
farewell to innocence. I will agree with you as to the indisputable
benefits of science. Confess, however, that all the learning of your
philosophers and mathematicians can I never confer on any people the
precious customs of the days of old. When we look back on what has been
done by the would-be wise men of antiquity to ennoble the moral state
of man, I will not speak of the mad ceremonial of the burlesque festivals
invented by the revolutionists of 1793. They were but scenes of disorder
and frenzy. Imagine, however, the purest and most solemn of the
discoveries of science, and compare it with the Christmas festival which
the Swedish peasant will celebrate in a few days, and tell me which
contributes to true emotion, to the moral good. Alete, give me my pipe."

The last words were the usual signal given by the good old man when he
felt the length of the conversation fatiguing, or felt his favorite ideas
paradoxical, though they sometimes were pressed on by arguments the tenor
of which he found it difficult to resist.

Alete went to get the long pipe, with its stem of maple-root, and filled
it with tobacco with her own pretty fingers. A sweet smile and a
deferential look from Eric recompensed her. When he saw M. de Vermondans
seated in his chair, and inhaling the aroma of tobacco through the amber
mouthpiece, he said,

"Since you remember our Christmas festival, you will not forget that we
expect you, Ebba, Alete, and Ireneus to keep it at our house."

"Yes, Eric," said M. de Vermondans,