the vaults the name fell back upon me with a clang, as if broken.

The silent severity of the beadle, whom I saw advancing towards me,
made me ashamed of my enthusiasm; and I fled between the two holy
water sprinklers with which tow rival "rats d'eglise" seemed
desirous of barring my way.

At all events it was certainly my own Alexander! there could be no
more doubt possible; the translator of the "Golden Legend," the
author of the saints lives of Saints Germain, Vincent, Ferreol,
Ferrution, and Droctoveus was, just as I had supposed, a monk of
Saint-Germain-des-Pres. And what a monk, too--pious and generous!
He had a silver chin, a silver head, and a silver foot made, that
certain precious remains should be covered with an incorruptible
envelope! But shall I never be able to view his handiwork? or is
this new discovery only destined to increase my regrets?



August 20, 1859.


"I, that please some, try all; both joy and terror
Of good and bad; that make and unfold error--
Now take upon me, in the name of Time
To use my wings. Impute it not a crime
To me or my swift passage, that I slide
O'er years."

Who speaks thus? 'Tis an old man whom I know too well. It is Time.