atch, number one! I always said it would keep for a drink on a dry
day; but it is not I who will drink it, but the young one. Ah! ah!
ah! go and sell it for me, neighbour; and if that is not enough,
have my ear-rings. Eh! Genevieve, take them off for me, the
ear-rings will square all. They shall not say you have been
disgraced on account of the child. No, not even if I must pledge a
bit of my flesh! My watch, my ear-rings, and my ring, get rid of all
of them for me at the goldsmith's; pay the woman, and let the little
fool go to sleep. Give him me, Genevieve, I will put him to bed."

And, taking the baby from the arms of his mother, he carried him
with a firm step to his cradle.

It was easy to perceive the change which took place in Michael from
this day. He cut all his old drinking acquaintances. He went early
every morning to his work, and returned regularly in the evening to
finish the day with Genevieve and Robert. Very soon he would not
leave them at all, and he hired a place near the fruitshop, and
worked in it on his own account.

They would soon have been able to live in comfort, had it not been
for the expenses which the child required. Everything was given up
to his education. He had gone through the regular school training,
had studied mathematics, drawing, and the carpenter's trade, and had
only begun to work a few months ago. Till now, they had been
exhausting every resource which their laborious industry could
provide to push him forward in his business; but, happily, all these
exertions had not proved useless; the seed had brought forth its
fruits, and the days of harvest were close by.

While I was thus recalling these remembrances to my mind, Michael
had come in, and was occupied in fixing shelves where they were
wanted.

During the time I was writing the notes of my journal, I was also
scrutinizing the joiner.

The excesses of his youth and the labour of his manhood have deeply
marked his face; his hair is thin and gray, his shoulders stooping,
his legs shrunken and slightly bent. There seems a sort of weight in
his whole being. His very features have an expression of sorrow and
despondency. He answered my questions by monosyllables, and like a
man who wishes to avoid conversation. From whence is this dejection,
when one would think he had all he could wish for? I should like to
know!

_Ten o'clock_.--Michael is just gone down stairs to look for a tool
he has forgotten. I have at last succee