all privileged orders; and the impression then made, ever after produced a considerable degree of indifference in me, for the society of courtiers; neither the softness or delicacy of their manners, could any longer prevent me from feeling the difference of that politeness which springs from generosity, and the condescension which arises from pride.

The dramatic piece chosen at Etioles, this year, was Nanine, which character was divinely performed by Edelie. Owing to the excellence of my voice, no parts were allotted to me, except in musical operas, so that I went into the boxes, from whence I could freely see and admire the heroine. I was highly delighted with her mode of reciting the following passage, and applauded it with transport:

The rich man, valiant and demure,

The beauty, witty and refined,
Tho' this were plain and that were poor,

To me were first of human kind!

When the play was over, and while

waiting for the announcement of supper, the Abbé Desforges took me out on the terrace, and asked why I had so enthusiastically applauded the passage just cited. To which I replied, with an air of some embarrassment, because it seemed to be a very fine one! very fine! rejoined the Abbé, far from it; on the contrary, it only expresses a common-place thought greatly exaggerated, for it is not sufficient that a man should be rich, valiant, and modest, to become the first of mortals. If his valour and riches is accompanied by folly and ignorance, which sometimes happens, he has no claim whatever to the first place in society. These lines, like many others by the same author, only excite the applauses of the multitude, because they are mere declamations against the court, princes, and nobility. Nor would they have called forth yours, had you been born in a higher sphere. Be upon your guard therefore, my dear friend, against this disposi

tion, at once seditious and satirical, which is daily making such a menacing progress; if you wish to preserve a just and upright mind, do not add the hateful causticity of subordinate interests to moral severity. Let not the splendour of birth and titles prevent you from blaming that which is reprehensible ; but do not suffer the little-minded regret of being unable to assume certain distinctions, inspire you with an extravagant animosity. Do not judge things by any other standard than themselves; praise and condemn without exaggeration, and laugh only at that which is dangerously ridiculous.

This useful lesson affected me most sensibly. Happy are those who receive such advice at the age of sixteen, and know how to appreciate it! It was after this year's festivity, that Eusebius, having first obtained his father's consent, but without mentioning it to any of his friends, suddenly departed for

Corsica. Although not destined for the military profession, he wished to go through a campaign, and see a pictu resque Island, then very little known. He concealed his plan from me, because he well knew that I should be anxious to accompany him; and, besides his thinking me too young for such an undertaking, he conceived that my uncle, from whom I expected so large a fortune, would have formally opposed it. This, as I afterwards discovered, was the reason of his not communicating the secret to me. His departure, notwithstanding a most affectionate letter which I received from him, grieved me excessively, although I could not reconcile myself to the idea of being prevented from partaking the perils which he was about to encounter, the accounts we subsequently heard, of his success, were of the most gratifying description. He remained six months in Corsica, during which time his conduct was highly distinguished in every respect, having per

formed several acts of gallantry which I had an inexpressible pleasure in hearing related by his family and friends.

Returning to Paris, after the fêtes at Etioles, the intimacy between Mademoiselle de Versec and my uncle became even greater than at any former period; and with more appearance of affection, she did not renew either her pretentions or coquetry, all was now reduced to pure and simple friendship. On our going there one morning, to breakfast, we found a very agreeable personage, whom she immediately introduced; this was her niece, whose name accompanied with the highest eulogiums, had often been mentioned to us of late. Matilda was an orphan, god-daughter to the Marquis d'Inglar, and daughter of one of Mademoiselle de Versec's sisters, the wife of a merchant who died insolvent. The Marquis, who was naturally benevolent, took charge of this young female, destitute as she was of fortune or support; he brought