etc.,--charges to write, sermons to authorize, cures and mayors to reconcile, a clerical correspondence, an administrative correspondence; on one side the State, on the other the Holy See; and a thousand matters of business.
　　What time was left to him, after these thousand details of business, and his offices and his breviary, he bestowed first on the necessitous, the sick, and the afflicted; the time which was left to him from the afflicted, the sick, and the necessitous, he devoted to work. Sometimes he dug in his garden; again, he read or wrote.
　　He had but one word for both these kinds of toil; he called them gardening. "The mind is a garden," said he.
　　Towards mid-day, when the weather was fine, he went forth and took a stroll in the country or in town, often entering lowly dwellings. He was seen walking alone, buried in his own thoughts, his eyes cast down, supporting himself on his long cane, clad in his wadded purple garment of silk, which was very warm, wearing purple stockings inside his coarse shoes, and surmounted by a flat hat which allowed three golden tassels of large bullion to droop from its three points.
　　It was a perfect festival wherever he appeared.
　　One would have said that his presence had something warming and luminous about it. The children and the old people came out to the doorsteps for the Bishop as for the sun.
　　He bestowed his blessing, and they blessed him. They pointed out his house to any one who was in need of anything.
　　Here and there he halted, accosted the little boys and girls, and smiled upon the mothers.
　　He visited the poor so long as he had any money; when he no longer had any, he visited the rich.
　　As he made his cassocks last a long while, and did not wish to have it noticed, he never went out in the town without his wadded purple cloak.
　　This inconvenienced him somewhat in summer.
　　On his return, he dined.
　　The dinner resembled his breakfast.
　　At half-past eight in the evening he supped with his sister, Madame Magloire standing behind them and serving them at table. Nothing could be more frugal than this repast.
　　If, however, the Bishop had one of his cures to supper, Madame Magloire took advantage of the opportunity to serve Monseigneur with some excellent fish from the lake, or with some fine game from the mountains.
　　Every cure furnished the pretext for a good meal:
　　the Bishop did not interfere. With that exception, his ordinary diet consisted only of vegetables boiled in water, and oil soup.
　　Thus it was said in the town, when the Bishop does not indulge in the cheer of a cure, he indulges in the cheer of a trappist.∫本∫作∫品∫由∫∫網∫提∫供∫下∫載∫與∫在∫線∫閱∫讀∫
　　After supper he conversed for half an hour with Mademoiselle Baptistine and Madame Magloire; then he retired to his own room and set to writing, sometimes on loose sheets, and again on the margin of some folio. He was a man of letters and rather learned.
　　He left behind him five or six very curious manuscripts; among others, a dissertation on this verse in Genesis, In the beginning, the spirit of God floated upon the waters.
　　With this verse he compares three texts: the Arabic verse which says, The winds of God blew; Flavius Josephus who says, A wind from above was precipitated upon the earth; and finally, the Chaldaic paraphrase of Onkelos, which renders it, A wind coming from God blew upon the face of the waters. In another dissertation, he examines the theological works of Hugo, Bishop of Ptolemais, great-grand-uncle to the writer of this book, and establishes the fact, that to this bishop must be attributed the divers little works published during the last century, under the pseudonym of Barleycourt.
　　Sometimes, in the midst of his reading, no matter what the book might be which he had in his hand, he would suddenly fall into a profound meditation, whence he only emerged to write a few lines on the pages of the volume itself.
　　These lines have often no connection whatever with the book which contains them.
　　We now