tion. But I challenge you to do it.

"Here are my conclusions:

"Formerly, when a man was a failure at every other profession he turned
photographer; now he has himself elected a deputy. A government thus
composed will always be sadly lacking, incapable of evil as well as
of good. On the other hand, a despot, if he be stupid, can do a lot of
harm, and, if he be intelligent (a thing which is very scarce), he may
do good.

"I cannot decide between these two forms of government; I declare myself
to be an anarchist, that is to say, a partisan of that power which is
the most unassuming, the least felt, the most liberal, in the broadest
sense of the word, and revolutionary at the same time; by that I
mean the everlasting enemy of this same power, which can in no way be
anything but defective. That's all!"

Cries of indignation rose about the table, and all, whether Legitimist,
Orleanist or Republican through force of circumstances, grew red with
anger. M. Patissot especially was choking with rage, and, turning toward
M. Rade, he cried:

"Then, monsieur, you believe in nothing?"

The other answered quietly:

"You're absolutely correct, monsieur."

The anger felt by all the guests prevented M. Rade from continuing, and
M. Perdrix, as chief, closed the discussion.

"Enough, gentlemen! We each have our opinion, and we have no intention
of changing it."

All agreed with the wise words. But M. Rade, never satisfied, wished to
have the last word.

"I have, however, one moral," said he. "It is simple and always
applicable. One sentence embraces the whole thought; here it is: 'Never
do unto another that which you would not have him do unto you.' I defy
you to pick any flaw in it, while I will undertake to demolish your most
sacred principles with three arguments."

This time there was no answer. But as they were going home at night,
by couples, each one was saying to his companion: "Really, M. Rade
goes much too far. His mind must surely be unbalanced. He ought to be
appointed assistant chief at the Charenton Asylum."

A RECOLLECTION

How many recollections of youth come to me in the soft sunlight of
early spring! It was an age when all was pleasant, cheerful, charming,
intoxicating. How exquisite are the remembrances of those old
springtimes!

Do you recall, old friends and brothers, those happy years when life was
nothing but a triumph and an occasion for mirth? Do you recall the days
of wanderings around