Its only happy seasons--the recreation hours, when the court echoed with the shouts and the laughter of the boys--were spoiled for it by the sight of two or three pupils who were punished by being made to stand at the foot of its trunk.

Parisian birds, who are not fastidious, rarely lighted upon the tree, and never built their nests there.

It might even be imagined that this disenchanted tree, when the wind agitated its foliage, would charitably say, "Believe me! the place is good for nothing.

Go and make love elsewhere!" In the shade of this sycamore, planted under an unlucky star, the greater part of Amedee's infancy was passed.
M.Violette was an employe of the Ministry, and was obliged to work seven hours a day, one or two hours of which were devoted to going wearily through a bundle of probably superfluous papers and documents.
The rest of the time was given to other occupations as varied as they were intellectual; such as yawning, filing his nails, talking about his chiefs, groaning over the slowness of promotion, cooking a potato or a sausage in the stove for his luncheon, reading the newspaper down to the editor's signature, and advertisements in which some country cure expresses his artless gratitude at being cured at last of an obstinate disease.

In recompense for this daily captivity, M.Violette received, at the end of the month, a sum exactly sufficient to secure his household soup and beef, with a few vegetables.
In order that his son might attain such a distinguished position, M.
Violette's father, a watch-maker in Chartres, had sacrificed everything, and died penniless.