this man?' and reason
answers as I have answered, 'We pity the man, we condemn the deed.'
We--take care, my love! that moth will be in the candle. We--whisk!
whisk!" and my father stopped to drive away the moth. My uncle turned,
and taking his handkerchief from the lower part of his face, of which
he had wished to conceal the workings, he flapped away the moth from the
flame. My mother moved the candles from the moth.

I tried to catch the moth in my father's straw-hat. The deuce was in the
moth! it baffled us all, now circling against the ceiling, now sweeping
down at the fatal lights. As if by a simultaneous impulse, my father
approached one candle, my uncle approached the other; and just as the
moth was wheeling round and round, irresolute which to choose for its
funeral pyre, both candles were put out. The fire had burned down low in
the grate, and in the sudden dimness my father's soft, sweet voice came
forth, as if from an invisible being: "We leave ourselves in the dark
to save a moth from the flame, brother! Shall we do less for our
fellow-men? Extinguish, oh! humanely extinguish, the light of our reason
when the darkness more favors our mercy." Before the lights were relit,
my uncle had left the room; his brother followed him. My mother and I
drew near to each other and talked in whispers.

PART IV.

CHAPTER I.

I was always an early riser. Happy the man who is! Every morning,
day comes to him with a virgin's love, full of bloom and purity and
freshness. The youth of Nature is contagious, like the gladness of a
happy child. I doubt if any man can be called "old" so long as he is
an early riser and an early walker. And oh, youth!--take my word of
it--youth in dressing-gown and slippers, dawdling over breakfast at
noon, is a very decrepit, ghastly image of that youth which sees the
sun blush over the mountains, and the dews sparkle upon blossoming
hedgerows.

Passing by my father's study, I was surprised to see the windows
unclosed; surprised more, on looking in, to see him bending over his
books,--for I had never before known him study till after the morning
meal. Students are not usually early risers, for students, alas!
whatever their age, are rarely young. Yes, the Great Book must be
getting on in serious earnest. It was no longer dalliance with learning;
this was work.

I passed through the gates into the road. A few of the cottages were
giving signs of returning life, but it was not yet