ught of a savant. The covering of
its stem, the first tender leaves, the development of the bud, the
expansion of the flower--each bewildering in its consummate
propriety--unfolded, in their turn, a system of laws in simplicity
transcendent. By the aid of a microscope, a 'gillyflower' was seen
protecting a chrysalis. Warm leaves cherished it, dainty juices aided
its digestion, wholesome offshoots nourished it to maturity. Eking out a
scant existence between two granite flags, this insignificant waif
reared a caterpillar. What man are you, who can say there is no God?"

There was a pathos in his voice, and a tone of simple fervor, which gave
that quiet old man the air of a priest.

It was more than a year afterward I took these rooms; but my
establishment was of short duration ere I learned the history of an
eventful morning which followed that incident:--of how the placid face
of the master peered among his people, beaming with a great joy; how a
sumptuous feast was fitted up in the private office for all in the
employ; of the two hundred francs, and a suit of clothes, presented to
each; and how every one, from the little messenger to the gray cashier,
with the rarest wine in the cellar, drank prosperity to the new-born son
and heir, and much happiness to the mother,--"God bless her!"

Once I saw a pony-carriage, with an aged, semi-military driver, pull up
at the door, and the flutter of a veil as the vehicle passed through
the entrance; and this was the only glimpse I ever caught of the little
lady that dingy office called mistress. There was, however, a certain
briskness in the movement of the clerks, and a glow of pleasure on their
faces, that always denoted a visit; and very frequent those visits were.
Without in any way obstructing it, her pretty interest seemed to throw a
halo around the dull routine of trade; and, if there was any
unpleasantness, the arrival of Jean Palliot, coachman and ex-grenadier,
with Madame Althie Pontalba, was sure to drive it away.

Why _will_ my heart, like a hungry thing, gloat on the happiness of
others? He has gone away--in the midst of the holidays--no one knows
whither; and his sweet wife and pleasant home are as dreary as I. There
is a mystery about this house which I have not yet unraveled. Marcel
left in the morning, and M. Pontalba in the evening. That has been two
weeks ago. I thought he would have fainted when I told him of the
_garcon's_ exodus. I attempted a history of th