Sylvestre　Bonnard　are　very　nearly　similar　to　those　reached　by　the　three　scientists　above　mentioned。　　Less　important；　but　perhaps　equally　interesting；　is　the　fact　that　Sir　John　Lubbock　is；　like　Monsieur　Bonnard；　an　archaeologist　who　began　to　devote　himself　only　late　in　life　to　the　natural　sciences。Note　by　the　French　Editor。＇
  Brolles！　　My　house　is　the　last　one　you　pass　in　the　single　street　of　the　village；　as　you　go　to　the　woods。　　It　is　a　gabled　house　with　a　slate　roof；　which　takes　iridescent　tints　in　the　sun　like　a　pigeon's　breast。　　The　weather…vane　above　that　roof　has　won　more　consideration　for　me　among　the　country　people　than　all　my　works　upon　history　and　philology。　　There　is　not　a　single　child　who　does　not　know　Monsieur　Bonnard's　weather…vane。　　It　is　rusty；　and　squeaks　very　sharply　in　the　wind。　　Sometimes　it　refuses　to　do　any　work　at　alljust　like　Therese；　who　now　allows　herself　to　be　assisted　by　a　young　peasant　girlthough　she　grumbles　a　good　deal　about　it。　　The　house　is　not　large；　but　I　am　very　comfortable　in　it。　　My　room　has　two　windows；　and　gets　the　sun　in　the　morning。　　The　children's　room　is　upstairs。　Jeanne　and　Henri　come　twice　a　year　to　occupy　it。
  Little　Sylvestre's　cradle　used　to　be　in　it。　　He　was　a　very　pretty　child；　but　very　pale。　　When　he　used　to　play　on　the　grass；　his　mother　would　watch　him　very　anxiously；　and　every　little　while　she　would　stop　her　seweing　in　order　to　take　him　upon　her　lap。　　The　poor　little　fellow　never　wanted　to　go　to　sleep。　　He　used　to　say　that　when　he　was　asleep　he　would　go　away；　very　far　away；　to　some　place　where　it　was　all　dark；　and　where　he　saw　things　that　made　him　afraidthings　he　never　wanted　to　see　again。
  Then　his　mother　would　call　me；　and　I　would　sit　down　beside　his　cradle。　He　would　take　one　of　my　fingers　in　his　little　dry　warm　hand；　and　say　to　me；
  〃Godfather；　you　must　tell　me　a　story。〃
  Then　I　would　tell　him　all　kinds　of　stories；　which　he　would　listen　to　very　seriously。　　They　all　interested　him；　but　there　was　one　especially　which　filled　his　little　soul　with　delight。　　It　was　〃The　Blue　Bird。〃　Whenever　I　finished　that；　he　would　say　to　me；　〃Tell　it　again！　tell　it　again！〃　　And　I　would　tell　it　again　until　his　little　pale　blue…　veined　head　sank　back　upon　the　pillow　in　slumber。
  The　doctor　used　to　answer　all　our　questions　by　saying；
  〃There　is　nothing　extraordinary　the　matter　with　him！〃
  No！　　There　was　nothing　extraordinary　the　matter　with　little　Sylvestre。　One　evening　last　year　his　father　called　me。
  〃Come；〃　he　said；　〃the　little　one　is　still　worse。〃
  I　approached　the　cradle　over　which　the　mother　hung　motionless；　as　if　tied　down　above　it　by　all　the　powers　of　her　soul。
  Little　Sylvestre　turned　his　eyes　towards　me；　their　pupils　had　already　rolled　up　beneath　his　eyelids；　and　could　not　descend　again。
  〃Godfather；〃　he　said；　〃you　are　not　to　tell　me　any　more　stories。〃
  No；　I　was　not　to　tell　him　any　more　stories！
  Poor　Jeanne！poor　mother！
  I　am　too　old　now　to　feel　very　deeply；　but　how　strangely　painful　a　mystery　is　the　death　of　a　child！
  To…day；　the　father　and　mother　have　come　to　pass　six　weeks　under　the　old　man's　roof。　　I　see　them　now　returning　from　the　woods；　walking　arm…in…arm。　　Jeanne　is　closely　wrapped　in　her　black　shawl；　and　Henri　wears　a　crape　band　on　his　straw　hat；　but　they　are　both　of　them　radiant　with　youth；　and　they　smile　very　sweetly　at　each　other。　　They　smile　at　the　earth　which　sustains　them；　they　smile　at　the　air　which　bathes　them；　they　smile　at　the　light　which　each　one　sees　in　the　eyes　of　the　other。　　From　my　window　I　wave　my　handkerchief　at　them；and　they　smile　at　my　old　age。
  Jeanne　comes　running　lightly　up　the　stairs；　she　kisses　me；　and　then　whispers　in　my　ear　something　which　I　divine　rather　than　hear。　　And　I　make　answer　to　her：　　〃May　God's　blessing　be　with　you；　Jeanne；　and　with　your　husband；　and　with　your　children；　and　with　your　children's　children　for　ever！〃。。。　　Et　nunc　dimittis　servum　tuum；　Domine！
  End