virtues　of　its　own；　the　years　and　seasons　bring　various　harvests；
  the　sun　returns　after　the　rain；　and　mankind　outlives　secular
  animosities；　as　a　single　man　awakens　from　the　passions　of　a　day。
  We　judge　our　ancestors　from　a　more　divine　position；　and　the　dust
  being　a　little　laid　with　several　centuries；　we　can　see　both　sides
  adorned　with　human　virtues　and　fighting　with　a　show　of　right。
  I　have　never　thought　it　easy　to　be　just；　and　find　it　daily　even
  harder　than　I　thought。　　I　own　I　met　these　Protestants　with　a
  delight　and　a　sense　of　coming　home。　　I　was　accustomed　to　speak
  their　language；　in　another　and　deeper　sense　of　the　word　than　that
  which　distinguishes　between　French　and　English；　for　the　true　Babel
  is　a　divergence　upon　morals。　　And　hence　I　could　hold　more　free
  communication　with　the　Protestants；　and　judge　them　more　justly；
  than　the　Catholics。　　Father　Apollinaris　may　pair　off　with　my
  mountain　Plymouth　Brother　as　two　guileless　and　devout　old　men；　yet
  I　ask　myself　if　I　had　as　ready　a　feeling　for　the　virtues　of　the
  Trappist；　or；　had　I　been　a　Catholic；　if　I　should　have　felt　so
  warmly　to　the　dissenter　of　La　Vernede。　　With　the　first　I　was　on
  terms　of　mere　forbearance；　but　with　the　other；　although　only　on　a
  misunderstanding　and　by　keeping　on　selected　points；　it　was　still
  possible　to　hold　converse　and　exchange　some　honest　thoughts。　　In
  this　world　of　imperfection　we　gladly　welcome　even　partial
  intimacies。　　And　if　we　find　but　one　to　whom　we　can　speak　out　of　our
  heart　freely；　with　whom　we　can　walk　in　love　and　simplicity　without
  dissimulation；　we　have　no　ground　of　quarrel　with　the　world　or　God。
  IN　THE　VALLEY　OF　THE　MIMENTE
  ON　Tuesday；　1st　October；　we　left　Florac　late　in　the　afternoon；　a
  tired　donkey　and　tired　donkey…driver。　　A　little　way　up　the　Tarnon；
  a　covered　bridge　of　wood　introduced　us　into　the　valley　of　the
  Mimente。　　Steep　rocky　red　mountains　overhung　the　stream；　great　oaks
  and　chestnuts　grew　upon　the　slopes　or　in　stony　terraces；　here　and
  there　was　a　red　field　of　millet　or　a　few　apple…trees　studded　with
  red　apples；　and　the　road　passed　hard　by　two　black　hamlets；　one　with
  an　old　castle　atop　to　please　the　heart　of　the　tourist。
  It　was　difficult　here　again　to　find　a　spot　fit　for　my　encampment。
  Even　under　the　oaks　and　chestnuts　the　ground　had　not　only　a　very
  rapid　slope；　but　was　heaped　with　loose　stones；　and　where　there　was
  no　timber　the　hills　descended　to　the　stream　in　a　red　precipice
  tufted　with　heather。　　The　sun　had　left　the　highest　peak　in　front　of
  me；　and　the　valley　was　full　of　the　lowing　sound　of　herdsmen's　horns
  as　they　recalled　the　flocks　into　the　stable；　when　I　spied　a　bight
  of　meadow　some　way　below　the　roadway　in　an　angle　of　the　river。
  Thither　I　descended；　and；　tying　Modestine　provisionally　to　a　tree；
  proceeded　to　investigate　the　neighbourhood。　　A　grey　pearly　evening
  shadow　filled　the　glen；　objects　at　a　little　distance　grew
  indistinct　and　melted　bafflingly　into　each　other；　and　the　darkness
  was　rising　steadily　like　an　exhalation。　　I　approached　a　great　oak
  which　grew　in　the　meadow；　hard　by　the　river's　brink；　when　to　my
  disgust　the　voices　of　children　fell　upon　my　ear；　and　I　beheld　a
  house　round　the　angle　on　the　other　bank。　　I　had　half　a　mind　to　pack
  and　be　gone　again；　but　the　growing　darkness　moved　me　to　remain。　　I
  had　only　to　make　no　noise　until　the　night　was　fairly　come；　and
  trust　to　the　dawn　to　call　me　early　in　the　morning。　　But　it　was　hard
  to　be　annoyed　by　neighbours　in　such　a　great　hotel。
  A　hollow　underneath　the　oak　was　my　bed。　　Before　I　had　fed　Modestine
  and　arranged　my　sack；　three　stars　were　already　brightly　shining；
  and　the　others　were　beginning　dimly　to　appear。　　I　slipped　down　to
  the　river；　which　looked　very　black　among　its　rocks；　to　fill　my　can；
  and　dined　with　a　good　appetite　in　the　dark；　for　I　scrupled　to　light
  a　lantern　while　so　near　a　house。　　The　moon；　which　I　had　seen　a
  pallid　crescent　all　afternoon；　faintly　illuminated　the　summit　of
  the　hills；　but　not　a　ray　fell　into　the　bottom　of　the　glen　where　I
  was　lying。　　The　oak　rose　before　me　like　a　pillar　of　darkness；　and
  overhead　the　heartsome　stars　were　set　in　the　face　of　the　night。　　No
  one　knows　the　stars　who　has　not　slept；　as　the　French　happily　put
  it；　A　LA　BELLE　ETOILE。　　He　may　know　all　their　names　and　distances
  and　magnitudes；　and　yet　be　ignorant　of　what　alone　concerns　mankind；
  …　their　serene　and　gladsome　influence　on　the　mind。　　The　greater
  part　of　poetry　is　about　the　stars；　and　very　justly；　for　they　are
  themselves　the　most　classical　of　poets。　　These　same　far…away
  worlds；　sprinkled　like　tapers　or　shaken　together　like　a　diamond
  dust　upon　the　sky；　had　looked　not　otherwise　to　Roland　or　Cavalier；
  when；　in　the　words　of　the　latter；　they　had　'no　other　tent　but　the
  sky；　and　no　other　bed　than　my　mother　earth。'
  All　night　a　strong　wind　blew　up　the　valley；　and　the　acorns　fell
  pattering　over　me　from　the　oak。　　Yet；　on　this　first　night　of
  October；　the　air　was　as　mild　as　May；　and　I　slept　with　the　fur
  thrown　back。
  I　was　much　disturbed　by　the　barking　of　a　dog；　an　animal　that　I　fear
  more　than　any　wolf。　　A　dog　is　vastly　braver；　and　is　besides
  supported　by　the　sense　of　duty。　　If　you　kill　a　wolf；　you　meet　with
  encouragement　and　praise；　but　if　you　kill　a　dog；　the　sacred　rights
  of　property　and　the　domestic　affections　come　clamouring　round　you
  for　redress。　　At　the　end　of　a　fagging　day；　the　sharp　cruel　note　of
  a　dog's　bark　is　in　itself　a　keen　annoyance；　and　to　a　tramp　like
  myself；　he　represents　the　sedentary　and　respectable　world　in　its
  most　hostile　form。　　There　is　something　of　the　clergyman　or　the
  lawyer　about　this　engaging　animal；　and　if　he　were　not　amenable　to
  stones；　the　boldest　man　would　shrink　from　travelling　afoot。　　I
  respect　dogs　much　in　the　domestic　circle；　but　on　the　highway；　or
  sleeping　afield；　I　both　detest　and　fear　them。
  I　was　wakened　next　morning　（Wednesday；　October　2nd）　by　the　same　dog
  …　for　I　knew　his　bark　…　making　a　charge　down　the　bank；　and　then；
  seeing　me　sit　up；　retreating　again　with　great　alacrity。　　The　stars
  were　not　yet　quite　extinguished。　　The　heaven　was　of　that　enchanting
  mild　grey…blue　of　the　early　morn。　　A　still　clear　light　began　to
  fall；　and　the　trees　on　the　hillside　were　outlined　sharply　against
  the　sky。　　The　wind　had　veered　more　to　the　north；　and　no　longer
  reached　me　in　the　glen；　but　as　I　was　going　on　with　my　preparations；
  it　drove　a　white　cloud　very　swiftly　over　the　hill…top；　and　looking
  up；　I　was　surprised　to　see　the　cloud　dyed　with　gold。　　In　these　high
  regions　of　the　air；　the　sun　was　already　shining　as　at　noon。　　If
  only　the　clouds　travelled　high　enough；　we　should　see　the　same　thing
  all　night　long。　　For　it　is　always　daylight　in　the　fields　of　space。
  As　I　began　to　go　up　the　valley；　a　draught　of　wind　came　down　it　out
  of　the　seat　of　the　sunrise；　although　the　clouds　continued　to　run
  overhead　in　an　almost　contrary　direction。　　A　few　steps　farther；　and
  I　saw　a　whole　hillside　gilded　with　the　sun；　and　still　a　little
  beyond；　between　two　peaks；　a　centre　of　dazzling　brilliancy　appeared
  floating　in　the　sky；　and　I　was　once　more　face　to　face　with　the　big
  bonfire　that　occupies　the　kernel　of　our　system。
  I　met　but　one　human　being　that　forenoon；　a　dark　military…looking
  wayfarer；　who　carried　a　game…bag　on　a　baldric；　but　he　made　a　remark
  that　seems　worthy　of　record。　　For　when　I　asked　him　if　he　were
  Protestant　or　Catholic　…
  'Oh；'　said　he；　'I　make　no　shame　of　my　religion。　　I　am　a　Catholic。'
  He　made　no　shame　of　it！　　The　phrase　is　a　piece　of　natural
  statistics；　for　it　is　the　language　of　one　in　a　minority。　　I　thought
  with　a　smile　of　Bavile　and　his　dragoons；　and　how　you　may　ride
  rough…shod　over　a　religion　for　a　century；　and　leave　it　only　the
  more　lively　for　the　friction。　　Ireland　is　still　Catholic；　the
  Cevennes　still　Protestant。　　It　is　not　a　basketful　of　law…papers；
  nor　the　hoofs　and　pistol…butts　of　a　regiment　of　horse；　that　can
  change　one　tittle　of　a　ploughman's　thoughts。　　Outdoor　rustic　people
  have　not　many　ideas；　but　such　as　they　have　are　hardy　plants；　and
  thrive　flourishingly　in　persecution。　　One　who　has　grown　a　long
  while　in　the　sweat　of　laborious　noons；　and　under　the　stars　at
  night；　a　frequenter　of　hills　and　forests；　an　old　honest　countryman；
  has；　in　the　end；　a　sense　of　communion　with　the　powers　of　the
  universe；　and　amicable　relations　towards　his　God。　　Like　my　mountain
  Plymouth　Brother；　he　knows　the　Lord。　　His　religion　does　not　repose
  upon　a　choice　of　logic；　it　is　the　poetry　of　the　man's　experience；
  the　philosophy　of　the　history　of　his　life。　　God；　like　a　great
  power；　like　a　great　shining　sun；　has　appeared　to　this　simple　fellow
  in　the　course　of　years；　and　become　the　ground　and　essence　of　his
  least　reflections；　and　you　may　change　creeds　and　dogmas　by
  authority；　or　proclaim　a　new　religion　with　the　sound　of　trumpets