the names of all the Jesuits, of their adherents, and of all the considerable persons, whether friends or enemies, with whom they have any connection.  In these registers are reported, without alteration, hatred or passion the facts relating to the life of each individual.  It is the most gigantic biographical collection that has ever been formed.  The frailties of a woman, the secret errors of a statesman, are chronicled in this book with the same cold impartiality.  Drawn up for the purpose of being useful, these biographies are necessarily exact.  When the Jesuits wish to influence an individual, they have but to turn to this book, and they know immediately his life, his character, his parts, his faults, his projects, his family, his friends, his most sacred ties.  Conceive, what a superior facility of action this immense police-register, which includes the whole world, must give to any one society!  It is not lightly that I speak of these registers; I have my facts from a person who has seen this collection, and who is perfectly well acquainted with the Jesuits.  Here then, is matter to reflect on for all those families, who admit freely into their houses the members of a community that carries its biographical researches to such a point. (Libri, Member of the Institute.  Letters on the Clergy.)

When he had conquered the involuntary emotion which the name or remembrance of General Simon had occasioned, Rodin’s master said to the secretary:  “Do not yet open the letters from Leipsic, Charlestown, and Batavia; the information they contain will doubtless find its place presently.  It will save our going over the same ground twice.”

The secretary looked inquiringly at his master.

The latter continued—­“Have you finished the note relating to the medals?”

“Here it is,” replied the secretary; “I was just finishing my interpretation of the cipher.”

“Read it to me, in the order of the facts.  You can append to it the news contained in those three letters.”

“True,” said Rodin; “in that way the letters will find their right place.”

“I wish to see,” rejoined the other, “whether this note is clear and fully explanatory; you did not forget that the person it is intended for ought not to know all?”

“I bore it in mind, and drew up the paper accordingly.”

“Read,” said the master.

M. Rodin read as follows, slowly and deliberately: 

“’A hundred and fifty years ago, a French Protestant family, foreseeing the speedy—­revocation of the edict of Nantes, went into voluntary exile, in order to avoid the just and rigorous decrees already issued against the members of the reformed church—­those indomitable foes of our holy religion.

“’Some members of this family sought refuge in Holland, and afterwards in the Dutch colonies; others in Poland, others in Germany; some in England, and some in America.

“’It is supposed that only seven descendants remain of this family, which underwent strange vicissitudes since; its present representatives are found in all ranks of society, from the sovereign to the mechanic.