THE STUDY OF NATURE. 



27 



'whither the village -bell summoned him,' to use his 

 oft-repeated phrase. I had not the strength to conceal 

 my thoughts. Sometimes I flung my arms around his 

 neck, exclaiming : ' Papa, do not die ! oh, never die : ' 

 He embraced me, without replying ; but his fine large 

 black eyes were trovibled as they gazed on me. 



" I was attached to him by a thousand ties, by a 

 thousand intimate relations. I was the daughter of 

 his mature age, of his shattered health, of his aflfections. 

 I had not that happy equilibrium which his other chil- 

 dren derived from my mother. My father was trans- 

 mitted in me {j^ass^ en moi). He said so himself: 

 ' How I feel that thou art my daughter ! ' 



" Years and life's trials had deprived him of nothing ; 

 to his last hour he retained the vivacity, the aspira- 

 tions, and even the charm of youth. Eveiy one felt 

 it without being able to account for it, and all flocked 

 around him of their own accord — women, children, men. 

 I still see him in his little study, seated before his 

 small black table, relating his Odyssey, his long jour- 

 neys in America, his life in the colonies ; one never 

 grew weary of his stories. A maiden of twenty years, 

 in the last stage of a pulmonary disease, heard him 

 shortly before her end : she would fain have listened 

 to him always ; implored him to visit her, for while he 

 was discoursing she forgot her sufl"erings and her decay, 

 even the approach of death. 



" This chai-m I speak of was not that of a clever 

 talker only ; it was due to the great goodness so 

 plainly visible in him. The trials, the hfe of ad- 

 venture and misfortune, which harden so many hearts. 



