Few and evil have been my days upon earth, I may say with Jacob of old, though I do not mean to say that my case is so hard as his; he had many undutiful children, whilst I have only -- -; but I will not reproach you.

I have also like him a son to whom I can look with hope, who may yet preserve my name when I am gone, so let me be thankful; perhaps, after all, I have not lived in vain.

Boy, when I am gone, look up to your brother, and may God bless you both! There, don't weep; but take the Bible, and read me something about the old man and his children.' My brother had now been absent for the space of three years.

At first his letters had been frequent, and from them it appeared that he was following his profession in London with industry; they then became rather rare, and my father did not always communicate their contents.

His last letter, however, had filled him and our whole little family with joy; it was dated from Paris, and the writer was evidently in high spirits.