An 'Attic' Philosopher

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y, Ma

and joyfully fly toward the country. It is who shall find a green hillock for a seat, or the shade of a wood for a shelter; they gather May flowers, they run about the fields; the town is forgotten until the even

ops and public-houses in the faubourgs, in the sole hope of finding a real turnip-field. The father of a family begins the practical education of his son by showing him wheat which has not taken the form of a loaf, and cabbage "in its wild state." Heaven onl

ness, and travellers, who, like Homer's hero, have arrived in their intellectual country after beholding "many peoples and cities;" but of the settled Parisian, who

fancy, live a quiet race of people with an independence, or with regular work, whose existence resembles the dial of a clock, on which the same hand points by turns to the same hours. If no other city can show more brilliant and m

ithout being able to disconnect my thoughts from the struggle going on. I follow at a distance all its events of happiness or grief; I join the feasts and the funerals; for ho

he has no other servant than his own ready will. While I was pursuing my deductions, I had blacked my boots, brushed my coat, and

y the advertisements that the next day was a holiday at Sevres, and that the china manufactory would

ock when they are convinced that it is their master; they will learn to wait when they find they will not be waited for. Social virtues, are, in a great degree, good habits. How many great qualities are grafted into nations

tired class of Parisians I have spoken of above. A few civilities were sufficient to gai

ouse; they had seen ten masters succeed one another, and make their fortunes in it, without any change in their own lot. They had always lived in the same room, at the end of one of the passages in the Rue St. Denis, where the air

ook care of her, and scolded her with a mother's tenderness. At first it was amusing; afterward one could not help seeing some

little that their wonder never ceased. We had hardly arrived at Clamart before they involuntarily

courageous determinations: everything was a marvel to them! They had remains of youth within them, which made them sensible to things

he who first had the bad courage to attach ridicule to that name of "old maid," which recalls so many images of grievous deception, of dreari

e had suddenly proposed the idea of the expedition, and Frances had accepted it immediately. Perhaps it would have been better not to yield to the great temptation offered by her younger sister

ourselves," said she

n maxim. It was evident that the fever of in

y on both sides of the road, caused them unceasing admiration. The meeting a train passing in the contrary direction, with the noise and rapidity of a thunderbolt, mad

alarm, the deficit which such an expense must make in their budget. The three francs spent upon this single expedition were the savings of a whole week of w

in the sun; on the left, Meudon, with its villas, its woods, its vines, and its royal castle! The two work-women look from one window to the other with exclamations of delight. One fellow-passenger laughs a

e path that leads to Sevres, between the railway and the gardens,

grafts and layers, for sowing annuals, and for destroying the insects on the rose-trees. Madeleine has on the sill of her window two wooden boxes, in which, for want of air and sun, she has never been able to make anything grow but mustard and cress; but she persuades herself that, thanks to this information,

o there are brought together by habit or the obligations of society; in the country assemblies, on the contrary, you only find those who are attracted by the hope of enjoyment. There, it is a forced conscription; here, they are volunteers for gayety! Then, how easily they are pleased! How far this crowd of people is yet from knowing that to be pleased with nothing, and to look down on everything, is the height

public. I meet Frances and Madeleine again in the first room. Frightened at finding themselves in the mid

the eldest sister, forgetting that

I walk first, and they make

Here we see clay moulded into every shape, tinted with

s of his life; therefore there must be a more intimate connection between them and us. Stone and metals require long preparations; they resist our first efforts, and b

its; these elegant yet incorrectly formed vases of the Indian tell me of a declining intelligence - in which still glimmers the twilight of what was once bright sunshine; th

hat credulous admiration which leaves no room for examination or discussion. Madeleine read the na

rtyard, where they had thrown away

nufactory are sold all over the world, and that her saucer, before it was cracked, was the same as those that are bought at the shops for sixpence! Why should I destroy the illusions of her humble existence? Are we to break down the hedge-flowers that perfume our paths? Things

lessness, invited me to share the luncheon they had brought with them. I declined at first, but the

hem up the hill, and we found a plot of grass enam

d put off. Frances, on the other hand, was brought up at Montmorency, and before she became an orphan she had often gone back to her nurse's house. That which had the attraction of novelty for her sister, had for her the charm of recollection. She

the valley of Sevres, its many-storied houses abutting upon the gardens and the slopes of the hill; on the other side spreads out the park of St. Cloud, with its magnificent clumps of trees interspersed with meadows; above st

rrymaking is at its height; the blasts of the trombones resound from the band under the acacias. For a few moments I forget myself with looking about; but I have

An explosion had taken place a few days before; the girl's mother and elder sister were killed; she herself escaped by a miracle, and was now left without any means of support. She told all this with the resigned and unhopeful manner of one who has always been accustomed to suffer. The two sisters were much affected; I saw them cons

ar! Good, like evil, is contagious: I run to the poor wounded girl, give her the sum that was t

th every trial. The smallest pleasure derives from rarity a relish otherwise unknown. Enjoyment is only what we feel to be such, and the luxurious man feels no longer: satiety has destroyed his appetite, while privation preserves to the other that first of earthly ble

your only wealth, pray for the wretched who give themselves up to despair; for the unhappy