'See there, Auguste,' she would say; 'the blind man was a beggar, poor and loathsome; therefore, he would not heal him _afar off!_ He called him to him, and put _his hands on him!_ Remember this, my boy.' If I had lived to grow up under her care, she might have stimulated me to I know not what of enthusiasm.

I might have been a saint, reformer, martyr,--but, alas! alas! I went from her when I was only thirteen, and I never saw her again!" St.Clare rested his head on his hands, and did not speak for some minutes.

After a while, he looked up, and went on: "What poor, mean trash this whole business of human virtue is! A mere matter, for the most part, of latitude and longitude, and geographical position, acting with natural temperament.

The greater part is nothing but an accident! Your father, for example, settles in Vermont, in a town where all are, in fact, free and equal; becomes a regular church member and deacon, and in due time joins an Abolition society, and thinks us all little better than heathens.

Yet he is, for all the world, in constitution and habit, a duplicate of my father.