"Stop, Louis! I'll have no more of it," said his mother, gazing at him half in sorrow, half in anger.

At that moment the door opened, and Josephine came in. She was a pleasing, pretty-looking girl of eighteen, neatly dressed in the white cap and apron of a bonne.

Louis jumped up at once to welcome and embrace his sister. "But what is the matter, Josephine ?" he exclaimed, after a few seconds; "you are crying. Has Madame St. Aubin been unkind to you? or are you ill? or have you had bad news?"

"Ah! bad news, alas! bad news, my brother. This morning I had a letter from Pierre. You know, Louis, that there has been a conscription, and that Pierre, who drew a good number last time, was again liable. Well! this time he was not SO lucky-he drew a bad number, so he must become a soldier, for neither he nor his family can afford to get a substitute. Alas! alas!" and she sank into a chair, sobbing and covering her face with her hands.

"I am sorry indeed," said Louis; "but cheer up, Josephine, no harm will come to Pierre, for there's no chance of war now; Europe is most peaceful."

"It is bad news indeed," said their mother; "I wish Pierre could get a substitute."

"No chance of it, mother," sobbed Josephine; "you know how weak and sickly his poor old father is; he can earn but little for himself, and Pierre has worked so bravely lately, been saving a little money too, and in every letter I got from him he wrote that he would soon have enough to support me, and that, before another year passed away, we might hope to be married, and now there's no chance of it-perhaps never."

"Oh, we won't say never, Josephine," said her mother; "it's very true what Louis says, that there's no probability of war just now."

"That may be, but Pierre will have to serve seven years, and who can tell how many wars there won't be in that time?

And if there is no war, he is sure to be sent to Africa, where he may die of fever or of sunstroke, or be murdered by the Arabs; and is he likely to keep as good and simple in the army, among so many bad soldiers, as he is now? Oh! no, I fear not," and she again gave way to tears.

"For your sake, Josephine, I am sorry that Pierre is drawn for a soldier," said Louis; "at the same time, I think it will do him good, polish him up a bit, and teach him a little more of the ways of the world."

"How can you talk so, Louis? the less he knows of it the better."

"Well, you may think so, but I am sure the army will do him good."

"Don't dispute about it, children," said their mother; "come to your dinner now, though I quite agree with Josephine, and am grieved to hear Louis talk as he has done this morning."

"It is nothing, my mother, never mind," said Louis, embracing her; "though we may have different opinions, we are all good friends just the same."

They sat down to their homely meal, during which all did their best to cheer up poor Josephine, and make her forget her trouble.

Before proceeding further with our story, it is necessary to relate a few particulars concerning the family to which we have just introduced our readers.

Madame Laforce was the widow of a small but respectable tradesman, who had kept a shop in the Quartier St. Germain at Paris, and died while still young, some fifteen years ago. Ill-health having during the last few years of his life prevented him from attending to business, his affairs were found in an unsatisfactory state at his death. His widow, with her three children to provide for, was quite unable to pay off his debts, her little property was consequently seized by her husband's creditors, and she was obliged to retire to a wretched lodging,

where by the kindness of friends, and her own industry she managed to gain a livelihood.

When her children grew up and were able to help her, she removed to the larger and better apartments where we have just seen her; she took in fine washing and needlework; her eldest daughter, some three years before, had married a well-to-do and clever workman, Louis had regular employment as a carpenter and joiner, and Josephine was bonne or nursemaid at Madame St. Aubin's, a rich lady who lived in the Champs Elysées. The old woman, Madame Plumier, had come to Paris to live with her daughter about two years ago. Her life had been a very stirring and eventful one, and she was now nearly ninety years of age. By birth a Breton, she had come early to Paris with her parents; here she had witnessed all the horrors of the first revolution, her husband's head fell beneath the guillotine, and she with her sister escaped with difficulty from the capital, reaching Bretagne at last, after many hardships. Here in time she married a young farmer, who not long after was drawn by the relentless conscription of the First Napoleon and enrolled in the Grand Army, among whose ranks he took part in nearly all those campaigns in the various countries of Europe which have rendered the great Emperor's name so famous. He returned unhurt after the disastrous retreat from Moscow, but was severely wounded at Waterloo; he was then pensioned off and lived happily with his wife for many peaceful years, till his death in 1840. Madame Plumier, who had only two children, a son and a daughter, afterwards resided with the former, a fisherman of St. Malo; he was unhappily drowned one stormy night while pursuing his calling at sea, and his mother, not wishing to be a burden to his widow, who had a large family to support, was only too glad to accept her daughter's urgent invitation to come and take up her abode with her at Paris. Pierre, the cousin alluded to in the conversation above, was the only son of a nephew of Madame Plumier. He lived with his father at

Dinan in Brittany, and had made Josephine's acquaintance during a visit to Paris some two years before. He had come to the capital to learn a trade, and during his stay there had been so much at Madame Laforce's lodgings, that he had become quite one of the family. He and Louis, who were about the same age, had worked together under the same employer, and though even then, they had some slight difference of opinion on political and religious subjects, they were on the whole fast and sworn friends. Pierre, too, had won Josephine's heart; all the family were pleased at the engagement, for a steadier or better-conducted young fellow could hardly have been found in all Paris, or the provinces.

No part of Brittany is more beautiful than the country round the picturesque old town of Dinan. It is charmingly diversified, waving cornfields and rich pastures being intermingled with dark woods and steep and rugged heights. The river Rance pursues its winding course through the loveliest scenery, its banks, now clothed with luxuriant foliage down to the water's edge, now rising into bare and lofty cliffs, relieved occasionally by stunted pine and coarse brushwood; here and there the river passes through some little village, where it is crossed by a picturesque bridge, as at Lehon, where the magnificent remains of the noble Abbey Church, destroyed and desecrated at the Revolution, rise, a grand and conspicuous object among its white cottages; sometimes a modern chateau looks down from some forest-covered height, upon the silver stream below, or a quaint old mill or rustic cabaret, with an old creaking signboard, stands close to the river side, while the pedestrian, as he slowly walks along the path which skirts the stream, will now and then meet or overtake one or more horses dragging along a heavy barge, which probably he will observe to be the residence of some happy and contented family.