hich imposes on fathers and mothers so many troublesome
treaties, and which children so well know how to assume when they desire
to obtain a favor.

"Are you going to make as long a journey as you did last month?" he
asked.

"Longer, I think; for, as we are so soon leaving for Europe, I want to
complete my collection as rapidly as possible. I know you will be a
good boy during my absence, and obedient to your mother. You will think
of me sometimes, will you not?"

"I should much prefer _not_ to think of you," he responded.

"You would rather, then, that I staid at Orizava?"

"Oh no; I should like you to go, and--to go with you."

"What can you be thinking of? Before we were a mile on the road you
would be knocked up, complaining of heat, thirst, fatigue--"

"That's quite a mistake, dear father. I know I should be very useful to
you, if you would only take me. I could pick up wood, light the fire,
and look after the cooking, besides catching butterflies and insects,
both for your collection and mine."

"That's all very well; but the first time you were scratched by a thorn
you would cry."

"Oh father! I promise you I will never cry, except when--I can't help
it."

I could not resist smiling at this answer.

"Then it is a settled thing, and I am to go with you," exclaimed Lucien.

"We must consult your mother, and if she sees no objection, I--"

The child ran off without allowing me to finish my sentence.

While I went on cleaning my guns, I found that I was pleading with
myself in favor of the little would-be traveller. I also remembered that
when I was only seven years old I had travelled long distances on foot
in company with my father, and to this early habit owed much of the
power of accomplishing dangerous and fatiguing journeys, which would
have frightened stronger men. I even persuaded myself that it would be
useful, before leaving Mexico, to impress the memory of my son with a
sight of some of the grand scenes of tropical nature, so that he should
retain correct ideas of the wonderful country in which his infancy had
been spent. I moreover knew that l'Encuerado, the gallant Indian who had
been my servant for so many years, perfectly adored his young master,
and would watch over him just as I should, and thus ward off any
possible mishaps. On the other hand, I risked inspiring my son with that
love of travel and adventure which had contributed materially to my
scientific collection, but very littl