He knew how to read, and when we know the twenty-four letters of the alphabet, we may learn almost everything that we wish to know. From that slight beginning most men may raise themselves to the heights of moral and intellectual worth by a persevering will and the faithful performance of duty.

At the same time it must be confessed that it is altogether different with poetical genius. It is not possible to tell what unforeseen and forgotten circumstances may have given the initial impulse to a poetic nature. It is not the result of any fortuitous impression, and still less of any act of the will.

It is possible that Jasmin may have obtained his first insight into poetic art during his solitary evening walks along the banks of the Garonne, or from the nightingales singing overhead, or from his chanting in the choir when a child. Perhaps the 'Fables of Florian' kindled the poetic fire within him; at all events they may have acted as the first stimulus to his art of rhyming. They opened his mind to the love of nature, to the pleasures of country life, and the joys of social intercourse.

There is nothing in the occupation of a barber incompatible with the cultivation of poetry. Folez, the old German poet, was a barber, as well as the still more celebrated Burchiello, of Florence, whose sonnets are still admired because of the purity of their style. Our own Allan Ramsay, author of 'The Gentle Shepherd,' spent some of his early years in the same occupation. In southern and Oriental life the barber plays an important part. In the Arabian tales he is generally a shrewd, meddling, inquisitive fellow. In Spain and Italy the barber is often the one brilliant man in his town; his shop is the place where gossip circulates, and where many a pretty intrigue is contrived.

Men of culture are often the friends of barbers. Buffon trusted to his barber for all the news of Montbard. Molière spent many long and pleasant hours with the barber of Pézenas. Figaro, the famous barber of Seville, was one of the most perfect prototypes of his trade. Jasmin was of the same calling as Gil Bias, inspired with the same spirit, and full of the same talent. He was a Frenchman of the South, of the same race as Villon and Marot.

Even in the prim and formal society of the eighteenth century, the barber occupied no unimportant part. He and the sculptor, of all working men, were allowed to wear the sword--that distinctive badge of gentility. In short, the barber was regarded as an artist. Besides, barbers were in ancient times surgeons; they were the only persons who could scientifically "let blood." The Barber-Surgeons of London still represent the class. They possess a cup presented to the Guild by Charles II., in commemoration of his escape while taking refuge in the oak-tree at Boscobel.³

But to return to the adventures of Jasmin's early life. He describes with great zest his first visit to a theatre. It was situated near at hand, by the ancient palace of the Bishop. After his day's work was over--his shaving, curling, and hairdressing --he went across the square, and pressed in with the rest of the crowd. He took his seat.

"'Heavens!' said he, 'where am I?' The curtain rises! 'Oh, this is lovely! It is a new world; how beautifully they sing; and how sweetly and tenderly they speak!' I had eyes for nothing else: I was quite beside myself with joy. 'It is Cinderella,' I cried aloud in my excitement. 'Be quiet,' said my neighbour. 'Oh, sir! why quiet? Where are we? What is this?' 'You gaping idiot,' he replied, 'this is the Comedy!'

"Jasmin now remained quiet; but he saw and heard with all his eyes and ears. 'What love! what poetry!' he thought: 'it is more than a dream! It's magic. O Cinderella, Cinderella! thou art my guardian angel!'

And from this time, from day to day, I thought of being an actor!"

Jasmin entered his garret late at night; and he slept so soundly, that next morning his master went up to rouse him. "Where were you last night? Answer, knave; you were not back till midnight?" "I was at the Comedy," answered Jasmin sleepily; "it was so beautiful!" "You have been there then, and lost your head. During the day you make such an uproar, singing and declaiming. You, who have worn the cassock,