coming back close to the window, she said, 'I was so afraid of forgetting the grave thoughts about Christmas; and now I think this has come on purpose to remind me.'

'You, Mary! Oh! I never feared your forgetting,' said Alice; but Mary was gone already, and was running fast towards her own home before the words were spoken.

(To be continued.)

THE SABOT-MAKER.

I HAD been studying the gigantic remains of the Celtic world at Karnac, and I now desired to visit those of the time of chivalry. In the Romances of the Round Table, the forest of Paimpont is celebrated under the name of the forest of Broceliande; it was said to contain the vale of perjured lovers, where unfaithful knights were imprisoned; and the boiling fountain of Baranton, the kerbstone of which was an emerald, and the golden bason in which water was drawn, had the power of raising a tempest. Merlin had been long concealed there with the fairy Viviana, and, according to tradition, might still be found in a magic sleep in the midst of a grove of white thorn.

Wishing to see with my own eyes the scene of so many wonders, I left Ploermel, guided by a hunter named Gourven, who knew all the paths in the forest; unfortunately it was the white month, a name by which January is known in Brittany, and which was now rendered particularly appropriate by the deep snow that covered the ground. I followed my guide with difficulty, as with long patched gaiters, a short cloak of goat's skin, and his gun on his shoulder, he walked upon the snow as if it had been a flowery meadow. Though leafless, the trees, with their thick snow-laden boughs, formed an almost solid vaulting over head, unruffled by a single breath of wind; and in its stillness, supported as it was by a thousand moss-covered trunks, like dark columns, it seemed a fairy palace of

arcades of alabaster, veined with black, and cut into delicate lace-work by a pair of fantastic scissors. It was, however, most like fairy-land, in the glades. The clear sunshine made them one flood of light, and the icicles which hung from the trees sparkled like diamonds, while on the ground the pure untrodden snow, diversified by evergreen butcher's broom, brown heath, and pale yellow moss, seemed a carpet embroidered by all the genii of the forest. No deer in the thickets, no birds in the air, no noise, excepting the crackling of the frost under our feet. Now we passed frozen ponds, covered with tufts of reeds, rigid and motionless as the bronze rushes that form the beds of the antique statues of river gods. Now we walked along the edge of ravines, down the sides of which the crooked roots of the beech were twisting like long stiffened serpents; and now we proceeded through deeper shades, broken here and there by dead or shattered trees, overgrown with lichens. Above, beneath, around, life was, as it were, suspended, as if not only Merlin, but the whole forest was in a magic sleep. There was something of melancholy dreariness in this scene, at once solemn, wild, and magnificent, and I could not help expressing something of this feeling to my companion- A forest is not a fair' he answered, shortly, 'If nothing moves it is because the beasts are wiser than we, and stay at home in bad weather.'

6

I observed that the sun was shining through the trees. 'Yes,' he said, shaking his head, the sun is like a poor tradesman, never so brilliant as before a bankruptcy.'

He put his gun under his arm, drew his goat-skin cloak round him, and walked on rapidly. I soon saw the reason of his haste, the sun became obscured almost suddenly, the wind blew, and fine snow began to fall thickly. At first, the shelter of the trees prevented our finding any difficulty, but as the wind rose we had to struggle against

clouds of drifting ice and snow, which it whirled in our faces, and at every step the walking became more difficult.

I began to be seriously uneasy as to the remaider of our journey, when we were joined by a man on horseback, wrapped in a blue cloak, which allowed nothing to be seen but the head of his horse, and those of two young calves, which were tied to his saddle bow. On seeing us he put down the collar, which had formed a mask to keep off the snow, and Gourven knew him to be a butcher from Ploermal.

So,' he cried, 'you have done hunting, and are carrying home your game.'

'You see I am,' said the butcher, laughing; but how is it that you are out in this bad weather?'

'This gentleman is taking a pleasant walk,' said Gourven, pointing to me with a cunning glance.

'Why you will be buried in the snow; you had better come with me to Kabik's.'

'But the gentleman is determined to see the fountain of Baranton.'

"The fountain!' repeated the butcher; 'I should have thought a Christian would prefer the sight of a comfortable fire.'

'You are right,' I interrupted, 'I will go with you; where does Kabik live?'

'Only a whistle off, in the beech wood.'

Though I had some experience in the distance indicated by this image, I decided upon following the butcher, and it took half an hour's rapid walking to measure the space of this gigantic whistle; at last we arrived at the hut of a maker of wooden shoes, which was the occupation of Kabik. It was made of boughs twisted together with their dry leaves still on; a sort of hurdle of broom served for a door, we pushed it aside, and saw Kabik sitting near the fire, opposite to a woman with a child in her arms.

They were eating-from one bowl, with one wooden spoon, which passed from one to the other-soup made of black bread, salt and water; sometimes the shoemaker put the spoon to the child's mouth, and as it drew back from the coarse food with a grimace, he looked at his wife and laughed, and she raised her child with a joyful exclamation and kissed it.

This rustic scene was so calm, happy, and peaceful, that I stopped to contemplate it; the snow had deadened the sound of our approach, so we were not perceived by the inhabitants of the hut till we were joined by the butcher, who had been tying up his horse.

Kabik received us very civilly, and his wife, pushing towards us the only stool that the hut contained, went to finish her dinner with her husband, sitting on a chest near the bed. This was only a hurdle with a mattress and one sheet of brown linen, and a coverlet of the selvages of cloth run together. The rest of the hut was occupied by a pile of sabots, or wooden shoes, and two tressels, at which Kabik and his wife worked, a small frame fixed to the wall was furnished with hatchets and other tools. The hearth was formed of two rough stones, above which was suspended a sort of funnel, to conduct the smoke, made of woven branches, and lined with clay. A trivet, a kettle, and two wooden bowls, ranged in the nearest corner, completed their stock of goods; their poverty was not even disguised by any attempt at arrangement, nevertheless the inhabitants seemed to reflect a brightness all around them which banished the idea of wretchedness, and there was that in the shoemaker, his wife and child, which showed they were preserved from it-not that beauty shed its glory round them; the man was little, thin, and wiry, the woman dark and heavy-looking, the child had none of the graces of its age, but such an atmosphere of serenity surrounded them, and bodily and mental health shone out so powerfully on these three ugly

countenances, that there was a sort of tranquil pleasure in looking at them.

This influence must have been very real, for it seemed to act even upon my guide; he had lighted his pipe, and he stood before the fire with his hands resting upon the barrel of his gun, contemplating this poor family. At last, he said in French, as if he could not help making the observation, 'These are happy people.'

'He is happier than a marquis,' replied the butcher, ' and yet he is as poor as a rat, he does not eat meat three times a year, and drinks nothing but water from the black month till the white one.'-From Souvestre's Brittany.

LETTER FROM MRS GRANT TO HER SON.

ON THE DEATH OF HIS TWO SISTERS.

'Ir pleased God before He called my dear departed children from me so far to subdue their minds to Himself, that I feel ease and confidence with regard to their eternal welfare; insomuch that it is a kind of consolation to me to think that their pure spirits may perhaps have it in charge to watch over you, and preserve you from the greatest of all evils-a lapse into habits destructive of your present comfort and future peace. Oh may that God, in whose presence we must all shortly appear, impress on your mind my earnest entreaty when I beseech you to listen to the voice which cries from the grave of those you loved, and by whom you were beloved. Think that they are softly whispering what they would cry aloud if the eternal laws that separate embodied spirits from those released, permitted: "Return, return and live, live to your God, your country, and your friends; live to pour balm into the bleeding hearts of those that pray and weep for the salvation of your immortal soul!" Chastened and subdued as I am by many and deep sorrows, believe me,