to carry it to the slaughter-house, and came to ask my father what part
of it he wished for his table. My father answered, the head and the
feet, and a few pounds of the flesh. I was touched by compassion on
seeing the calf, and, but that shame prevented me, would have bought it
from the man, in the hope of curing and keeping it alive. In fine, my
dear uncle, nothing less than the confidence I have with you would make
me recount to you these signs of an extravagant and restless emotion, so
that you may judge by them how necessary it is that I should return to
my former way of life, to my studies, to my lofty speculations, and be
at last elevated to the priesthood, in order to provide with its fit and
proper aliment the fire that consumes my soul.

_April 14th._

I continue to lead the same life as usual, and am detained here still by
my father's entreaties.

The greatest pleasure I enjoy, after that of being with him, is my
intercourse and conversation with the reverend vicar, with whom I am in
the habit of taking long walks. It seems incredible that a man of his
age--for he must be near eighty--should be so strong and active, and so
good a walker. I grow tired sooner than he; and there is no rough road,
no wild place, no rugged hill-top, in the neighborhood, where we have
not been.

The reverend vicar is reconciling me, in a great degree, with the
Spanish clergy, whom I have stigmatized, at times, in speaking with you,
as but little enlightened. How much more to be admired, I often say to
myself, is this man, so full of candor and benevolence, so simple and
affectionate, than one who may have read many books, but in whose soul
the flame of charity burns less brightly than, fed by the purest and
sincerest faith, it does in his! Do not suppose from this that the
understanding of the reverend vicar is a limited one; his is a spirit
uncultured, indeed, but clear and sagacious. At times I fancy that the
good opinion I entertain of him may be due to the attention with which
he listens to me; but, if this be not the case, it seems to me that he
reasons on every subject with remarkable perspicacity, and that he knows
how to unite an ardent love of our holy religion with an appreciation of
all the good things that modern civilization has brought us. I am
charmed, above all, by the simplicity, the sobriety of sentiment, the
naturalness, in short, with which the reverend vicar performs the most
disagreeable works of charity.