An 'Attic' Philosopher

oung sister. But while all looks are turned toward the future, mine revert to the past. Everyone smiles upon the new queen; but, in spite of myself, I think of her whom time has j

t rains, and I feel my mind as gloomy as the sky. I have a holiday today; but what can one do

smokes, the wood goes out! I throw down my be

streets, with holiday looks and smiling faces - do they understand what makes them so gay? Do th

e vulgar. I make a parenthesis in my ill-temper in favor of my vanity,

hey surrounded its beginning with good omens, and thence came the custom of visits between neighbors, of wishing happiness, and of New-Year's gifts. The presents given by the Romans were symbolic. The

thers. I could now enjoy my breakfast; but the portress has forgotten my morning's milk, and the pot of preserves is empty! Anyone else would have been vexed: as for me, I affect the

nglishman who hanged himself because they had brought him his tea without sugar. There are hours in life when the most trifling cross take

e, and I waited for the first snowstorm to see glaciers among them; to-day, I only see tiles and stone flues. The pigeons, which assisted my rural illusions, seem no more than miserable birds which have mistaken the roof for the back yard; the smoke, which rises in

meet, fall upon the great man

increase, followed by shop porters who carry flowers, bandboxes, or toys. Suddenly the great gates are opened, and a new carriage, drawn by thoroughbred horses, draws up before the doorsteps. They are, without doubt, the New-Year's gift presented to the mistress of the house by her husban

y. I alone have nothing to give or to receive. Poor Solitary! I

seek out all my unknown friends - lost in the m

the crowd! unhappy laborers, who are condemned to toil in melancholy, and eat your daily bread in

r eyes turned toward some polar star, while you tread

g and working by a cradle! to you, young men, resolutely set to open for yourselves a path in life, large e

who pity the suffering; who walk through the world like the symb

f bread which in my brown study I had just scattered on the roof. At this sight a flash of light broke upon my saddened heart. I deceived mysel

llect her; but she looks at me, and smiles. Ah! it is Paulette! But it is almost a year since I have seen

as if to court your sympathy - the same voice, somewhat timid, yet expressing fondness. Paulette is not pretty - she is even thought plain; a

Mars. Suddenly, one of those unaccountable alarms which strike a multitude with panic fell upon the dense crowd: they cry out, they rush on headlong; the weaker ones fall, and the frightened crowd tramples them down in its convulsive stru

eful heart, and she came at the beginning of the year to offer me her wishes for my happiness. She brought me, besides, a wallflower in full bloom; she herself h

d put it into a case of varnished paper, ornamented with arabesques. These might h

a sunbeam, the kind of mist which had gathered round my mind; my thoughts suddenly changed from the leaden ti

short interjections her long and confidential talk. The poor child leads a hard life. She was left an orphan long since,

sunshine for nothing. Paulette complains that her candles go too quickly, and that her wood costs too much. The fireplace in their garret is so large that a fagot makes no more show in it than a match; it is so near the roof that the wind blows the rain down it, and in winter it hails upon the hearth; so they have left off using

soon became a plan. I questioned her about her daily occupations, and she informed me that on leaving me she must go, with her brother, her sister, and grandmother, to th

ere singing around, the sky had cleared up, and the day, which began so loweringly, had become

ill repair my old stove, and answers for its being as good as new. At five

ill out. My Piedmontese* fixed the stove, while I arranged a dozen logs in the great fireplace, taken fr

ed "Piedmontese" or "Savoyard," as t

ything ready: the lighted stove murmurs gently, the little lamp burns upon the table, and a bottle of oil for it is provided on the shelf. The chimney-doctor is gone. Now my fear lest

wonders, they draw back almost frightened. Paulette is the first to comprehend it, and the arrival of the gra

just roasted; the grandmother puts her hand on the bottles of cider arranged on the dresser; and I

e cloth, they sit down, they eat; it is a complete banquet for all, and each contributes his share

iment of the little ones! I have always been struck at the ease with which the poor forget their wretchedness. Being used to live only for the present, they make a gain of ev

yes. Perrine sang an old ballad with her fresh young voice. Henry told us what he knows of the great writers of the day, to wh

f my evening. It has given me much comfort and much instruction. Now, no New-Year's Day will come

ust returned from her evening's party; and, as she sprang from the c

te's family, said "So