in his labours to the extent of his strength and abilities. They all three followed the path which wound along the hill-side, and soon came in sight of their own little cabin, situated half-way between Roseauvel and the citadel of Kelern. When the eyes of Claude rested on the lowly thatched roof, lighted up by the setting sun, he felt his heart bowed down with grief. Recollections of former days came across him, though he strove to banish them from his thoughts; the days when he used to hear the voice of Catherine in the distance, announcing to the children his approach, and the joyous laugh of Peter as he hastened forward to meet him, leading Rénée by the hand. Now all was silent, deserted! Death had visited the cabin-life and joy had departed from it! Claude heaved a half-suppressed sigh, grasped his two children by the hand, and drew them closer to his side. Henceforth they must be his strength and consolation. At the turning of the road, however, and just as he had arrived in front of the cabin, he perceived Mr. Royer seated on a stone bench by the door, waiting for him. This Mr. Royer, formerly a pub. lican in Brest, had lately retired to Roseauvel, where he had bought small farms, on one of which was situated the little cottage now inhabited by Morvan. He dwelt not far from the village, at a halfruined manor, the lands of which he cultivated in an unproductive and niggardly way. Among his neighbours he bore the character of an avaricious and cruel man. Two or three times he had been summoned before a justice of the peace, on account of his ill-treatment of those who were employed in his service. As our new acquaintances approached him, Claude Morvan took off his hat, and the little boy followed his father's example. Mr. Royer remained seated, and did not even return their salutation. "Well, so your wife is dead," he said, with that tone of cold indifference the foolish and the hard-hearted often affect towards their inferiors; "do you know that is a great misfortune for you?" "I ought to know it, sir," replied Claude, in a voice tremulous with emotion, "for none knew her worth as well as I did." "And the worst of it is, that she has been the means of your losing a good place with Mr. Lenoir. How the plague did you come to neglect your work there for eight days ?" "It was necessary that I should do so to take care of Catherine." "Catherine! Catherine! You might have left her with the children. Besides, you knew that there was no hope." "One never feels sure of that when one loves those who are dying, sir,” replied Claude, with a deep and naïve expression of feeling; "so long as she spoke to me, and looked at me, I never could believe that she was going to leave us !” Mr. Royer made an impatient movement with his head. "You see what it has all ended in, you fool! she is dead, and died eight days too late; for Mr. Lenoir, who could not wait, has got another workman from Brest for his brick-kiln! Where will you find work now ?" "I will go and offer myself everywhere," replied Morvan. "And you I will be received nowhere," continued the former publican; "you know as well as I do that it is the dead season-more hands than work; and, moreover, you owe me a quarter's rent!" "I have not forgotten it, sir," said Claude, " and I will pay you." "Is it with the pig you sold to buy medicine for the deceased? or with your furniture, which all went to pay for her funeral, and the cross which you planted on her grave ?" sternly inquired Mr. Royer, "as if you could not be satisfied with a pauper's funeral and a hole in the cemetery for your wife!" Alas, sir," replied Morvan, "it was the last thing I shall ever be able to do for her. These are ideas one cannot get rid of. If I had not done for her what is done for others, I should have felt as if I had insulted her memory. She who had spent her life for us, had she not a right that we should honour her in death? With the cross there, we shall at least not forget where her poor body lies, and we shall know where to kneel down to pray for her." Royer shrugged his shoulders, and muttered to himself, "Yet one more degraded victim of superstition! no matter. The result is that now you are ruined, and have, I suppose, no means left to pay me. Is it not so ?" "At this moment-it is true-that I could not manage-" faltered out Morvan, hesitatingly. "Well, then you may seek a lodging elsewhere," replied the publican. "I have found another tenant, and you must turn out to-morrow, seeing that I am offered an increase of two crowns in the rent." Although Claude was not prepared for so hasty an ejection, he offered no resistance, and showed no ill-humour. "Every one is master of his own property," replied he, "and since you can get a higher rent, sir, I would not be the means of hindering you from doing so. I have in the bay of Dinant a cousin, who will not, I hope, refuse me a shelter, and I will set off to-morrow with my children." "Wait a moment, if you please," said the landlord, rising from his seat. "When once you are off, you carry my receipt on the soles of your shoes; we must settle our accounts before you go." "I thought I had told you, sir," replied Claude, with much embarrassment, "that I was at this moment literally without a penny." "Very likely," said Mr. Royer, "but you are not without children; give them both to me, to take care of my cattle, and I will consider you quit of your debt." "What is this! what is this I hear!" exclaimed Royer, seizing the latter by the ear, you are going to play the rebel, are you? You shall come where I choose to take you, you young scoundrel!" "Excuse me, sir," interrupted Morvan, who drew his son towards him, “but I cannot part with these poor little creatures." "You refuse to give them to me, then!" exclaimed the publican. "I like better to keep them with me," replied Claude, somewhat embarrassed; they are accustomed to be at homeand-they would be unhappy any where else." Mr. Royer stood up, crimson with rage. "Ah! I did not expect this, I must say," said he. "I offer him the means of clearing off his debt without even drawing his purse-strings, and by taking a heavy charge off his hands, and he refuses! and for what reason, I should like to know? Is it because they ask to stay with you? And do they even know why they wish it? Let us see, now, you young rascal, what reason have you to give ?" "I wish to eat when I am hungry; and at the manor one cannot have bread when one wishes for it," answered Peter. "What is that you dare to say ?" said Mr. Royer, lifting his hand. "I do not wish to be beaten, and people are beaten at the manor," continued the child, resolutely. The publican tried to seize and chastise him for the boldness of these accusations, which unfortunately were too well justified by facts, and fully known to the whole parish. Claude arrested his On hearing this unexpected proposal, Peter and Rénée, who had until now listened to the conversation with the in-hand. difference natural at their age, suddenly raised their heads, and were all attention. "It will be all clear gain on your side," continued the landlord, "for you will get rid of these two little brats, whom I will teach how to labour, and make themselves useful." The two children pressed closer to their father's side. "I will not go with him!" cried Rénée, with an expression of fear. "Ah! this is the way you bring up your children!' cried Royer, almost beside himself; "you teach them to insult their master, and to repeat lies. But I will be even with them yet. Woe be to them, if ever I meet with them!" "It is just to avoid that, that I keep them with me," said Morvan, with some Nobody has ever yet raised a hand on them, and nobody ever shall raise one while I can prevent it." emotion. "You dare to threaten me, do you!" | were each moment assuming a more replied the furious landlord, "this is the threatening aspect-heavy clouds swept reward of my patience, or rather of my across the neighbouring downs, and just folly-you shall not abuse my kindness as our travellers reached the beach which any longer. Pay me at once the back separates Kelern from Camaret, the rents, or I will turn you out this evening storm burst over their heads with fearful -this very moment." violence. Claude anxiously drew his Morvan shuddered-"You will not do children towards him, and looked around that, sir!" "No!" replied Royer exasperated, "that remains to be proved-Will you pay me at once ?" "Alas! you know that it is not in my power to do so.” "In that case," said the landlord, "I will exercise my right," and snatching the key from the door of the cabin, he turned hastily away, and quickly disappeared amidst the windings of the road. The peasant remained at first petrified with surprise, then, carried away by his indignation, he darted forward in pursuit of the publican, but the cries of his frightened children suddenly arrested his steps. He remembered what would be the consequences of a struggle against the power of this man-a lawsuit, perhaps a prison. Peter and Rénée left without a protector. This thought soon quelled his irritation. He returned to the two children, took them by the hand, and stood irresolute for some moments before the closed door of his cabin. Should he return to Mr. Royer, and attempt to move him from his purpose? or should he go straight to his cousin? Aftor a few minutes' reflection, he decided on the latter course. The evening was only just beginning to close in; by hastening his steps he might yet arrive at Dinant, before the door was closed for the night. He took out a basket which had fortunately been left in a little outhouse, and which contained a few remnants of provisions, then encouraging Peter and Rénée, whose spirits had begun to flag, he once more turned his steps towards the promotory of Kelern, which lay between him and Dinant. The presence of his children obliged him to walk slowly along, and being absorbed in his own mournful reflections -he gave but little heed to surrounding objects. In the meantime, the heavens for a shelter, but there was no house near enough for them to have a chance of reaching it. At length, he happily remembered the "Pierced Grotto," and hastened to seek its shelter, bearing along with him his two children. This name of "Pierced Grotto," had been given to a conical rock, whose interior, hollowed out by the hand of nature, communicated by a sort of chimney at its summit with the external air. Oftentimes it served as a place of refuge to the fishermen, shepherds, and children of the neighbourhood. It was beyond the reach of the waves, and where the spring-tides barely reached its entrance. Here Claude and his children found the remains of a fire which had been lighted during the day, and some fragments of wood which had been collected on the beach to keep it alive. Some large stones formed a rude hearth, around which others had been placed, so as to serve for seats. A heap of dried sea-weed occupied the corner of the grotto, and might be used in case of necessity to feed the flame. Morvan rekindled the dying embers, made the children sit close to the fire to dry their clothes, and took out of the basket some provisions which supplied them with a frugal meal. The storm, so far from diminishing, seemed every moment to gain fresh strength, the wind whistled through the crevices of the rock, and the sea roared as it foamed over the pebbles on the beach; torrents of rain, swept along by the wind at one moment beat against the grotto, and the next fell in streams upon the sand. Claude was sufficiently well acquainted with the character of these ocean storms to know that this one would last at least throughout the night, and that it was useless to think of quitting their asylum before the morning dawn. He therefore spread the dry sea-weed on the floor of the cavern to make a bed for the children, and having covered them with his own account, and pursue his former avocation of lime-burner with profit to himself. Ah! if he only possessed money enough to construct a furnace and to buy the broom and furze needful for fuel. But all he possessed was a hearty good will and unfeigned confidence in God! To Him he addressed a fervent prayer for help and counsel, and doubtless his prayer was heard. The earliest dawn of day, having lighted up the interior of the grotto, Claude was struck with its form, and quickly perceived that it could easily be turned into a natural furnace. He resolved at once to make the attempt. Having brought Rénée and Peter to Dinant, and left them to the care of his cousin, who promised to take charge of them for some days, he returned to the grotto, bringing with him a certain quan collected as much dried sea-weed as he could find, arranged all in the order to which he was accustomed, and set it on fire. The first attempt was not entirely successful, but it was sufficiently so to induce a neighbouring farmer to supply him with a cartload of furze and heath, with the help of which he produced some excellent lime that quickly found a sale. First employed at Brest as lime-burner, at Roseauvel as brickmaker, he was in-tity of flint stones, chosen on the beach, capable of guiding either a boat, a plough, or a team, and had, in consequence, but little chance of occupation in a country whose chief employments consisted in agriculture and navigation. These reflections contributed to cast a yet deeper gloom over his spirits, aud at last, he was almost beginning to regret that he had refused Mr. Royer's proposition, when suddenly his attention was arrested by the appearance of the stones which served as hearth to the fire now blazing at his feet. Calcined by the flame, they were becoming white, and had begun to assume all the appearance of lime. Morvan looked at them more closely, drew them from the hearth, rolled them up to the entrance of the cave, that he might submit them to the action of the water, and soon acquired the certainty that they were actually turned into lime. This discovery was like a flash of lightning across his darkened path. If even a part of the pebbles on the beach were calcareous, then there lay within his reach an inexhaustible mine of wealth. Every tide would bear upon its bosom some loads of this precious material ready for the furnace. This idea took possession of Claude's mind, and for that night sleep was banished from his eyes. He began to consider how he could turn this discovery to At the end of a few years, Claude Morvan was rich enough to build a kiln at about two hundred paces from the "Pierced Grotto," which had become too confined for his operations. A little later might be seen, near the kiln, a small white house with a pretty garden in front, surrounded by a green paling, and here an old man used to pace up and down, leaning on a young man and a blooming girl, clad in the garb ordinarily worn by the rich artisans of the town. This was Claude Morvan, with Peter and Rénée, who, by their gratitude and tender care, fully repaid all his former anxieties. The "Pierced Grotto" is always pointed out to strangers as the origin of an establishment which has proved a source of productive industry to the country round, as well as the means of enriching a poor and worthy family.. NEIGHBOURS' QUARRELS. MOST people think there are cares enough in the world, and yet many are very industrious.to increase them :-One of the readiest ways of doing this is to quarrel with a neighbour. A bad bargain may vex a man for a week; and a bad debt may trouble him for a month, but a quarrel with his neighbours will keep him in hot water all the year round. Aaron Hands delights in fowls, and his cocks and hens are always scratching up the flower-beds of his neighbour, William Wilkes, whose mischievous tom-cat, every now and then, runs off with a chicken. The consequence is, that William Wilkes is one-half the day occupied in driving away the fowls, and threatening to screw their long ugly necks off; while Aaron Hands, in his periodical outbreaks, invariably vows to skin his neighbour's cat, as sure as he can lay hold of him. that the carpet was beaten on purpose to spite her, and give her trouble. As it is Mrs. Tibbets and Mrs. Williams hate one another with a perfect hatred. Neighbours! Neighbours! bear with one another, we are none of us angels, and should not, therefore, expect those about us to be free from faults. They who attempt to out-wrangle a quarrelsome neighbour, go the wrong way to work; a kind word, and still more a kind deed, will be more likely to be successful. Two children wanted to pass by a savage dog, the one took a stick in his hand and pointed it at him, but this only made the enraged creature more furious than before. The other child adopted a different plan, for by giving the dog a piece of his bread and butter, he was allowed to pass, the subdued animal wagging his tail in quietude. If you happen to have a quarrelsome neighbour, conquer him by civility and kindness, try the bread and butter system, and keep your stick out of sight. That is an excellent Christian adınonition. "A soft answer turneth away wrath, but grievous words stir up anger."' Neighbours! Neighbours! Why can you not be at peace? Not all the fowls you can rear, and the flowers you can grow, will make amends for a life of anger, hatred, malice, and uncharitableness. Come to some kind-hearted understanding-Prov. xv. 1. one with another, and dwell in peace. Upton, the refiner, had a smoky chimney, that sets him and all the neighbourhood by the ears. The people around abuse him without mercy, complaining that they are poisoned, and declaring that they will indict him at the sessions. Upton fiercely sets them at defiance, on the ground that his premises were built before theirs, that his chimney did not come to them, but that they came to his chimney. Neighbours! Neighbours! practice a little more forbearance. Had half a dozen of you waited on the refiner in a kindly spirit, he would years ago have so altered his chimney, that it would not have annoyed you. Mrs. Tibbets is thoughtless, if it were not so she would never have had her large dusty carpet beaten, when her neighbour, who had a wash, was having her wet clothes hung out to dry. Mrs. Williams is hasty and passionate, or she would never have taken it for granted Neighbours' quarrels are a mutual reproach, and yet a stick or a straw is sufficient to promote them. One man is rich, and another poor; one is a churchman, another a dissenter; one is a Conservative, another a Liberal; one hates another because he is of the same trade, and another is bitter with his neighbour because he is a Jew or a Roman Catholic. Neighbours! Neighbours! live in love, and then while you make others happy, you will be happier yourselves. That happy man is surely blest Who of the worst things makes the best; Who of the best things makes the worst. "Be ye all of one mind," says the Apostle, "having compassion one of ancourteous; not rendering evil for evil, or other; love as brethren, be pitiful, be railing for railing, but contrariwise blessing."1 Pet. iii. 8. 9. To a rich man Ĩ would say, bear with and try to serve those who are below you; and to a poor one Fear God, love peace, and mind your labour; |