taken fire in the night, and been burned to the
ground, and his mother had perished in the flames.

A kind cottager soon made his appearance, and conducted the
unfortunate father and son to his humble cabin. Here they passed the
night and one or two days following. During that time, Francois
Bertrand neither ate nor slept, but wept over his misfortune with an
agony that refused all consolation. On the third day only he regained
his composure; but it was only to be conscious of a new and
overwhelming misfortune. His eyesight was gone. The agony of mind he
had suffered, and the tears he had shed, had completed the ravages of
his disorder.

"Where are you, Victor?" said the soldier.

"Here, by your side, father; don't you see me?"

"Alas! no, my boy. I can see nothing. Give me your little hand. Your
poor father is blind."

The agonizing sobs of the boy told him how keenly he appreciated his
father's misfortune.

"Dry your eyes, Victor;" said the soldier. "Remember the instructions
of your poor mother, how she taught you to submit with resignation to
all the sufferings that Providence sees fit to inflict upon us in this
world of sorrow. Henceforth you must see for both of us; you will be
my eyes, my boy."

"Yes, father; and I will work for you and support you."

"You are too young and delicate, Victor. We must beg our bread."

"_Beg_, father?"

"Yes, you shall guide my footsteps. There are good people in the world
who will pity my infirmities and your youth. When they see my ragged
uniform, they will say, 'There is one of the braves who upheld the
honor of France upon the burning sands of Egypt,' and they will not
fail to drop a few sous into the old soldier's hat. Come, Victor, we
must march. We have been too long a burden on our poor neighbor.
_Courage, mon enfant, le bon temps viendra._"

And so the boy and his father set forth upon their wanderings. Neither
asked alms; but when seated by the roadside, under the shadow of an
overhanging tree, the passer-by would halt, and bestow a small sum
upon the worn and blind soldier. Victor was devoted to his father, and
Heaven smiled upon his filial affection. Though denied the society and
sports so dear to his youth, he was always cheerful and happy in the
accomplishment of his task. Often did his innocent gayety beguile his
father into a temporary forgetfulness of his sufferings. Then he would
place his hand upon the boy's head, and stroking his soft, curling
loc