music;—­and had in fact practised the former.  “But come, Sir, (says he) come and do me the honour of a call—­when it shall suit you.”  I settled it for the ensuing day.  On breaking up and taking leave, the amiable stranger modestly spoke of his History.  It had cost him three years’ toil; and he seemed to mention, with an air of triumph, the frequent references in it to the Gallia Christiana, and to Chartularies and Family Records never before examined.  On the next day I carried my projected visit into execution—­towards seven in the evening.  The lodgings of M. Langevin are on the second floor of a house belonging to a carpenter.  The worthy priest received me on the landing-place, in the most cheerful and chatty manner.  He has three small rooms on the same floor.  In the first, his library is deposited.  On my asking him to let me see what old books he possessed, he turned gaily round, and replied—­“Comment donc, Monsieur, vous aimez les vieux livres?  A ca, voyons!” Whereupon he pulled away certain strips or pieces of wainscot, and shewed me his book-treasures within the recesses.  On my recognising a Colinaeus and Henry Stephen, ere he had read the title of the volumes, he seemed to marvel exceedingly, and to gaze at me as a conjuror.  He betrayed more than ordinary satisfaction on shewing his Latin Galen and Hippocrates; and the former, to the best of my recollection, contained Latin notes in the margin, written by himself.  These tomes were followed up by a few upon alchymy and astrology; from which, and the consequent conversation, I was led to infer that the amiable possessor entertained due respect for those studies which had ravished our DEES and ASHMOLES of old.

In the second room stood an upright piano forte—­the manufacture, as well as the property, of Monsieur Langevin.  It bore the date of 1806; and was considered as the first of the kind introduced into Normandy.  It was impossible not to be struck with the various rational sources of amusement, by means of which this estimable character had contrived to beguile the hours of his misfortunes.  There was a calm, collected, serenity of manner about him—­a most unfeigned and unqualified resignation to the divine will—­which marked him as an object at once of admiration and esteem.  There was no boast—­no cant—­no formal sermonising.  You saw what religion had done for him.  Her effects spake in his discourse and in his life....  Over his piano hung a portrait of himself; very indifferently executed—­and not strongly resembling the original.  “We can do something more faithful than this, sir, if you will allow it”—­said I, pointing to Mr. Lewis:  and it was agreed that he should give the latter a sitting on the morrow.  The next day M. Langevin came punctually to his appointment, for the purpose of having his portrait taken.