recommended myself to a Huguenot gentleman, who employed me as
secretary and dictated to me libels on our religion."

"Ah!" exclaimed my father, "that was wrong of your reverence. An
honest man ought not to lend his hand to such abominations. And as
far as I am concerned, although ignorant, and of a working
condition, I cannot bear the smell of Colas' cow."

"You're quite right, my host," continued the priest. "It is the
worst point in my life. The very one I am most sorry for. But my man
was a Calvinist. He employed me to write against Lutherans and
Socinians only; these he could not stand at all, and, I assure you,
he compelled me to treat them worse than ever it was done at the
Sorbonne."

"Amen," said my father. "Lambs graze together while wolves devour
one the other."

The priest continued his narrative:

"Besides, I did not remain for long with that gentleman, who made
more fuss about the letters of Ulric von Hutten than of the
harangues of Demosthenes, and in whose house water was the only
drink. Afterwards I followed various callings, but all without
success. I became a pedlar, a strolling player, a monk, a valet, and
at last, by resuming my clerical garb, I became secretary to the
Bishop of Seez and edited the catalogue of the precious MSS.
contained in his library. This catalogue consists of two volumes in
folio, which were placed in his gallery, bound in red morocco, with
his crest on and the edges gilded. I venture to say it was a good