"It is true that God has also taught men to bring back wine into water. But what kind of water? Brandy (eau de vie); in order that they might thereby themselves perform the miracle of Cana in case of need, and convert the common water into that excellent species of wine called punch. My Christian brother, be benevolent and beneficent like him, and do not spoil his good beverage. He has made wine to rejoice us. When you see your neighbor at table pouring wine into his glass, do not hasten to pour water into it. Why do you wish to mix the truth? It is likely that your neighbor knows better than you what suits him. Perhaps he does not like water: perhaps he only wishes to put in some drops of it out of regard to the fashion: perhaps he does not wish another to observe how little of it he puts into his glass. Therefore, offer water only to children. It is a false complaisance and very inconvenient. I say this to you as a man of the world. But I will finish, as I began, like a good Christian, by making a religious remark to you very important, and drawn from Holy Writ, namely, that the Apostle Paul very seriously advised Timothy to put some wine into his water for his health's sake; but not one of the apostles nor any of the holy fathers have ever recommended putting water into wine.

"P. S.-To confirm you still more in your piety and gratitude to Divine Providence, reflect upon the situation which he has given to the elbow. You see in figures 1 and 2, that the animals which ought to drink the water that flows upon the earth, if they have long legs have also long necks, in order that they may reach their drink without the trouble of falling on their knees. But man, who was destined to drink wine, ought to be able to carry the glass to his mouth. Look at the figures below: if the elbow had been placed near the hand, as in figure 3, the part A, would be too short to bring the glass to the mouth; if it had been placed nearer the shoulder, as in figure 4, the part B, would have been so long, that it would have carried the glass quite beyond the mouth: thus would we have been tantalized. But owing to the present situation, represented in figure 5, we are in a condition to drink at our ease, the glass coming exactly to the mouth. Let us adore then, glass in hand, this benevolent wisdom; let us adore and drink.'

"To this fine dissertation were annexed the following drawings from the hand of his grandson, under the direction of this excel

lent man, in whom I contemplated Socrates, mounted on a stick, playing with his children."

If

So far the Abbé Morellet. space permits, we may converse again with this merry ecclesiastic, further on.

I must append to the Abbé's delineation of "Our Lady of Anteuil," a portrait of her by another hand, which is not flattering. Mrs. Adams, who joined her husband in Paris before Franklin left the country, dined with Madame Helvetius at Passy one day, and did not like her in the least. The orderly and decorous matron of New England, but lately arrived in France, was astonished at the lady's free ways.

"She entered the room," Mrs. Adams relates, "with a careless, jaunty air; upon seeing ladies who were strangers to her, she bawled out, 'Ah! mon Dieu, where is Franklin? Why did you not tell me there were ladies here?' You must suppose her speaking all this in French. 'How I look!' said she, taking hold of a chemise made of tiffany, which she had on over a blue lute-string, and which looked as much upon the decay as her beauty, for she was once a handsome woman; her hair was frizzled ; over it she had a small straw hat, with a dirty gauze half-handkerchief round it, and a bit of dirtier gauze than ever my maids wore was bowed on behind. She had a black gauze scarf thrown over her shoulders. She ran out of the room; when she returned, the Doctor entered at one door, she at the other; upon which she ran forward to him, caught him by the hand, Helas! Franklin ;' then gave him a double kiss, one upon each cheek, and another upon his forehead. When we went into the room to dine, she was placed between the Doctor and Mr. Adams. She carried on the chief of the conversation at dinner, frequently locking her hand into the Doctor's, and sometimes spreading her arms upon the backs of both the gentlemen's chairs, then throwing her arm carelessly upon the Doctor's neck.

"I should have been greatly astonished at this conduct, if the good Doctor had not told me that in this lady I should see a genuine French woman, wholly free from affectation or stiffness of behavior, and one of the best women in the world. For this I must take the Doctor's word; but I should have set her down for a very bad one, although sixty years of age, and a widow. I own I was highly disgusted, and never wish for an acquaintance with any

ladies of this cast. After dinner she threw herself upon a settee, where she showed more than her feet. She had a little lap-dog, who was, next to the Doctor, her favorite. This she kissed, and when he wet the floor she wiped it up with her chemise. This is one of the Doctor's most intimate friends, with whom he dines once every week, and she with him. She is rich, and is my near neighbor; Thus you see, my dear, that manI hope, however, to

but I have not yet visited her. ners differ exceedingly in different countries. find amongst the French ladies manners more consistent with my ideas of decency, or I shall be a mere recluse."

We may presume that a longer acquaintance with Madame Helvetius lessened Mrs. Adams's disgust. These two amiable and richly endowed women approached each other from the extremes of two most diverse civilizations. Fancy Madame Helvetius transported to a New England village, and descanting upon a New England Sunday in a letter to the Abbé Morellet!

In the spring of 1781, Sophia, Countess d'Houdetot, in the gardens of her château at Sanoy, near Paris, entertained Dr. Franklin at a superb and peculiar fête champêtre, which was much celebrated at the time. Although no guests were present except the members of the d'Houdetot family and its connections, the company was numerous and distinguished. The occasion must have been a trying one to the modesty of Franklin, for he was deluged with versified eulogium. As soon as it was known that his carriage was approaching, the whole company set off on foot to meet him. At the distance of half a mile from the château they gathered round the doors of the carriage, and walked with it, as an escort, to the entrance of the grounds, where the countess herself handed him out. "The venerable sage," says the French chronicler of the fête, "with his gray hairs flowing down upon his shoulders, his staff in his hand, the spectacles of wisdom on his nose, was the perfect picture of true philosophy and virtue." As soon as he had alighted, the company formed a group around him, and the countess pronounced some lines, which may be roughly translated thus:

"Life of the valiant and the wise,

Oh, Liberty! first gift of the gods!

"Letters of Mrs. Adams," ii., 55.

Alas! it is but from afar that we pay thee our vows:
And with longing hearts we offer homage

To the man who rendered his fellow citizens happy."

They then wound slowly through the gardens to the château Dinner was soon announced, and the company sat down to a ban quet which displayed all the resources both of the kitchen and the cellar of the mansion. At the first glass of wine, a few soft instruments played an air, when the company rose, and sang a stanza which served as the standing chorus of the occasion:

"Of Benjamin let us celebrate the memory;
Let us sing the good he has done to mortals.
In America he will have altars;

Then in Sanoy let us drink to his glory."

When the second glass of wine was about to be drunk, the Countess d'Houdetot sang the following stanza :

"To human nature he restores its rights;
To make men free he would enlighten them;
And Virtue's self, in order to be adored,
Assumes the form of Benjamin."

At the third glass, the Viscount d'Houdetot sang these lines:

"William Tell was brave but barbarous;

I love far more our dear Benjamin.

While fixing the destiny of America,

At table he laughs-just the way with your true sage."

As prelude to the fourth glass, the Viscountess d'Houdetot sang this stanza:

"I say, live Philadelphia, too!

Independence-how it allures me!

I would gladly dwell in that country,

Though there is neither ball nor play there.

When the next glass was called, Madame de Pernan sang :