asped his hands, looked
up to heaven, and tears were in his eyes. Some sought for the silver
and gold in their purses; but no collection was made, as the church had
already been built, and was free of debt.

After an interval, he recited La Semaine d'un Fils; and he recited
it very beautifully. There were some men who wept; and many women who
exclaimed, "Charmant! Tout-a-fait charmant!" but who did not weep.
Jasmin next recited Ma Bigno, which has been already described. The
contributor to Chambers's Journal proceeds: "It was all very amusing to
a proud, stiff, reserved Britisher like myself, to see how grey-headed
men with stars and ribbons could cry at Jasmin's reading; and how
Jasmin, himself a man, could sob and wipe his eyes, and weep so
violently, and display such excessive emotion. This surpassed my
understanding--probably clouded by the chill atmosphere of the fogs,
in which every Frenchman believes we live.... After the recitations had
concluded, Jasmin's social ovation began. Ladies surrounded him, and
men admired him. A ring was presented, and a pretty speech spoken by a
pretty mouth, accompanied the presentation; and the man of the people
was flattered out of all proportion by the brave, haughty old noblesse.

"To do Jasmin justice, although naturally enough spoiled by the absurd
amount of adulation he has met with, he has not been made cold-hearted
or worldly. He is vain, but true and loyal to his class. He does not
seek to disguise or belie his profession. In fact, he always dwells upon
his past more or less, and never misses an opportunity of reminding his
audience that he is but a plebeian, after all.

"He wears a white apron, and shaves and frizzes hair to this day, when
at Agen; and though a Chevalier of the Legion of Honour, member of
Academies and Institutes without number, feted, praised, flattered
beyond anything we can imagine in England, crowned by the king and the
then heir to the throne with gilt and silver crowns, decked with flowers
and oak-leaves, and all conceivable species of coronets, he does not ape
the gentleman, but clips, curls, and chatters as simply as heretofore,
and as professionally. There is no little merit in this steady
attachment to his native place, and no little good sense in this
adherence to his old profession... It is far manlier and nobler than
that weak form of vanity shown in a slavish imitation of the great, and
a cowardly shame of one's native condition.

"Witho