Except when so engaged, he went on rhyming. In a little town, gossip flies about quickly, and even gets into the local papers. One day Jasmin read in one of the Agen journals, "Pegasus is a beast that often carries poets to the hospital." Were the words intended for him? He roared with laughter. Some gossip had bewitched the editor. Perhaps he was no poet. His rhymes would certainly never carry him to the hospital. Jasmin's business was becoming a little more lucrative.. It is true his house was not yet fully furnished, but day by day he was adding to the plenishing. At all events his humble home protected him and his wife from wind and weather.

On one occasion M. Gontaud, an amiable young poet, in a chaffing way, addressed Jasmin as "Apollo!" in former times regarded as the god of poetry and music. The epistle appeared in a local journal. Jasmin read it aloud to his family. Gontaud alleged in his poem that Apollo had met Jasmin's mother on the banks of the Garonne, and fell in love with her; and that Jasmin, because of the merits of his poetry, was their son.

Up flamed the old pair! "What, Catherine?" cried the old man," is it true that you have been a coquette? How! have I been only the foster-father of thy little poet?" "No! No!" replied the enraged mother; "he is all thine own! Console thyself, poor John; thou alone hast been my mate. And who is this 'Pollo, the humbug who has deceived thee so? Yes, I am lame, but when I was washing my linen, if any coxcomb had approached me, I would have hit him on the mouth with a stroke of my mallet!" "Mother," exclaimed the daughter, "'Pollo is only a fool, not worth talking about; where does he live, Jacques?" Jasmin relished the chaff, and explained that he only lived in the old mythology, and had no part in human affairs. And thus was Apollo, the ancient god of poetry and music, sent about his business.

Years passed on, the married pair settled down quietly, and their life of happiness went on pleasantly. The honeymoon had long since passed. Jasmin had married at twenty, and Mariette was a year younger.

When a couple live together for a time, they begin to detect some little differences of opinion. It is well if they do not allow those little differences to end in a quarrel. This is always a sad beginning of a married life.

There was one thing about her husband that Mariette did not like. That was his verse-making. It was all very well in courtship, but was it worth while in business? She saw him scribbling upon curl-papers instead of attending to his periwigs. She sometimes interrupted him while he was writing; and on one occasion, while Jasmin was absent on business, she went so far as to burn his pens and throw his ink into the fire!

Jasmin was a good-natured man, but he did not like this treatment. It was not likely to end in a quiet domestic life. He expostulated, but it was of little use. He would not give up his hobby. He went on rhyming, and in order to write down his verses he bought new pens and a new bottle of ink. Perhaps he felt the germs of poetic thought moving within him. His wife resented his conduct. Why could he not attend to the shaving and hair-dressing, which brought in money, instead of wasting his time in scribbling verses on his curl-papers?

M. Charles Nodier, member of the French Academy, paid a visit to Agen in 1832. Jasmin was then thirty- four years old. He had been married fourteen years, but his name was quite unknown, save to the people of Agen. It was well known in the town that he had a talent for versification, for he was accustomed to recite and chaunt his verses to his customers.

One quiet morning M. Nodier was taking a leisurely walk along the promenade of the Gravier, when he was attracted by a loud altercation going on between a man and a woman in the barber's shop. The woman was declaiming with the fury of a Xantippe, while the man was answering her with Homeric laughter. Nodier entered the shop, and found himself in the presence of Jasmin and his wife. He politely bowed to the pair, and said that he had taken the liberty of entering to see whether he could not establish some domestic concord between them.