“Ah! sir,” replied the good woman, “you are very condescending, and what you say is very true; but your language surprises me:  it is so many years since in this village we have heard such truths, and especially from the lips of a stranger.”

“Madam,” resumed M. ——­, “we are all strangers here, and sojourners bound to eternity; there is but one road, one guide, one Saviour, who can conduct us safely; if we feel this, young or old, rich or poor, we are all one in Christ; and however scattered on earth, shall all arrive at the heavenly city, to which he is gone to prepare mansions for us.”

“These doctrines, sir,” exclaimed the female, “support the hearts of many of us, who have scarcely travelled beyond our own neighbourhood; and it is so rare and so delightful to hear them from others, that, if it will not be an abuse of your Christian politeness, I would request you to alight and visit my humble apartment.”

“I shall comply most cheerfully with your request,” replied M. ——­; “for though time is precious, I shall be thankful to spend a few minutes in these mountains, among those with whom I hope to dwell for ever on Mount Sion.”

M. ——­ mounted to the second story, followed by his companion.  He found the female with whom he had conversed, surrounded by her daughters and her grand-daughters, all busily employed in five looms, filled with galloons and ribbons, destined for the capital and the most distant cities of the world.  The good widow was between sixty and seventy years of age; her appearance was neat and clean; and all the arrangements of her apartment bespoke industry, frugality, and piety.

“Ah! sir,” she exclaimed, as M. ——­ entered, “how happy am I to receive such a visitor!”

“Madam,” replied M. ——­, “I am not worthy to enter under this roof.”

“Why, sir,” exclaimed the widow, “you talked to us of Jesus Christ and—­”

“Yes, madam, but I am a poor guilty sinner and hope only for salvation through the cross.  I was yesterday at St.——­, where they were planting a cross with great ceremony; were you there?”

“No, sir; for it is of little use to erect crosses in the streets, if we do not carry the cross in our hearts, and are not crucified to the world.  But, sir, if you will not he offended, may I ask what you are called?”

M. ——­, giving a general sense to the French phraseology, answered, “My name, madam, is M——.”

“Thank you, sir, I shall not forget; but this is not what I meant; I wished to know whether you are protestant or catholic, a pastor or a priest?”

“Madam, I have not the honour to be either; I am a merchant; I desire to be a Christian, and to have no other title but a disciple of Christ.”

“That is exactly as we are here, sir,” exclaimed the good widow, and added, “but, as you are so frank, are you, sir, catholic, or protestant?”

“Catholic,” replied M. ——.

Madam looked confused, and observed, “that it was rare for the catholics to talk as her visitor had done.”