the place of sugar; and for the potage, the
bouilli, the vegetables, the salad, the fruit,
the garden, farm and orchard of the Lefebvres
was all-sufficient. The woollen cloth was
spun by the men of the house on winters'
evenings, standing by the great wheel, and
carefully and slowly turning it to secure
evenness of thread. The women took charge of
the linen, gathering, and drying, and beating
the bad smelling hemp, the ugliest crop that
grew about the farm; and reserving the
delicate blue-flowered flax for the fine thread
needed for the daughter's trousseau; for as
soon as a woman child was born, the mother,
lying too faint to work, smiled as she planned
the web of dainty linen, which was to be
woven at Rouen, out of the flaxen thread of
gossamer fineness, to be spun by no hands, as
you may guess, but that mother's own. And
the farm-maidens took pride in the store of
sheets and table napery which they were to
have a share in preparing for the future
wedding of the little baby, sleeping serene in
her warm cot, by her mother's side. Such
being the self-sufficient habits of the Norman
farmers, it was no wonder that in the eventful
year of sixteen hundred and eighty-five,
Lefebvre remained ignorant for many days of
that Revocation which was stirring the
whole souls of his co-religionists. But there
was to be a cattle fair at Avranches, and he
needed a barren cow to fatten up and salt for
tha winter's provision. Accordingly, the
large-boned Norman horse was accoutred,
summer as it was, with all its paraphernalia
of high-peaked wooden saddle, blue sheepskin,
scarlet worsted fringe and tassels; and
the farmer Lefebvre, slightly stiff in his
limbs, after sixty winters, got on from the
horse block by the stable wall, his little
daughter Magdalen nodding and kissing her
hand as he rode away. When he arrived at
the fair, in the great place before the cathedral
in Avranches, he was struck with the
absence of many of those who were united
to him by the bond of their common
persecuted religion; and on the faces of the
Huguenot farmers who were there, was an
expression of gloom and sadness. In answer
to his inquiries, he learnt for the first time
of the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes.
He and his son could sacrifice anything—
would be proud of martrydom if need were
—but the clause which cut him to the heart,
was that which threatened that his pretty,
innocent, sweet Magdalen might be taken
from him and consigned to the teachings of
a convent. A convent, to the Huguenots'
excited prejudices, implied a place of
dissolute morals, as well as of idolatrous
doctrine.

Poor Farmer Lefebvre thought no more
of the cow he went to purchase; the life and
death—nay, the salvation or damnation—of
his darling, seemed to him to depend on the
speed with which he could reach his home
and take measures for her safety. What
these were to be he could not tell in this
moment of bewildered terror; for, even while
he watched the stable-boy at the inn arranging
his horse's gear without daring to help
him—for fear his early departure and undue
haste might excite suspicion in the malignant
faces he saw gathering about him—even
while he trembled with impatience, his daughter
might be carried away out of his sight,
for ever and ever. He mounted and spurred
the old horse; but the road was hilly, and
the steed had not had his accustomed rest;
and was poorly fed, according to the habit
of the country; and, at last, he almost
stood still at the foot of every piece of rising
ground. Farmer Lefebvre dismounted, and
ran by the horse's side up every hill,
pulling him along, and encouraging his flagging
speed by every conceivable noise, meant
to be cheerful, though the tears were fast
running down the old man's cheeks. He was
almost sick with the revulsion of his fears,
when he saw Magdalen sitting out in the sun,
playing with the " fromages" of the mallow-
plant, which are such a delight to Norman
children. He got off his horse, which found
its accustomed way into the stable. He
kissed Magdalen over and over again, the
tears coming down his cheeks like rain. And
then he went in to tell his wife—his poor
invalid wife. She received the news more
tranquilly than he had done. Long illness
had deadened the joys and fears of this world
to her. She could even think and suggest.
"That night a fishing-smack was to sail from
Granville to the Channel Islands. Some of
the people, who had called at the Lefebvre
farm, on their way to Avranches, had told
her of ventures they were making, in sending
over apples and pears to be sold in Jersey,
where the orchard crops had failed. The
captain was a friend of one of her absent
sons; for his sake—"

"But we must part from her—from Magdalen,
the apple of our eyes. And she—she
has never left her home before, never been
away from us—who will take care of her?
Marie, I say, who is to take care of the
precious child?" And the old man was choked
with his sobs. Then his wife made answer,
and said,—

"God will take care of our precious child,
and keep her safe from harm, till we two—or
you at least, dear husband, can leave this
accursed land. Or, if we cannot follow her, she
will be safe for heaven; whereas, if she stays
here to be taken to the terrible convent, hell
will be her portion and we shall never see her
again—never!"

So they were stilled by their faith into
sufficient composure to plan for the little girl.
The old horse was again to be harnessed and
put into the cart; and if any spying Romanist
looked into the cart, what would they see but
straw, and a new mattrass rolled up, and
peeping out of a sackcloth covering. The
mother blessed her child, with a full conviction