stopped in the middle of a Place, where I read this inscription over a shop-door, 'Jasmin, Coiffeur des jeunes gens.' We were at Agen. I descended, swallowed my cup of coffee as fast as I could, and entered the shop of the most lettered of peruke-makers. On a table was a mass of pamphlets and some of the journals of the South.

"'Monsieur Jasmin?' said I on entering. 'Here I am, sir, at your service,' replied a handsome brown-haired fellow, with a cheerful expression, who seemed to me about thirty years of age.

"'Will you shave me?' I asked. 'Willingly, sir,' he replied, I sat down and we entered into conversation. 'I have read your verses, sir,' said I, while he was covering my chin with lather. 'Monsieur then comprehends the patois?' 'A little,' I said; 'one of my friends has explained to me the difficult passages. But tell me, Monsieur Jasmin, why is it that you, who appear to know French perfectly, write in a language that is not spoken in any chief town or capital.'

"'Ah, sir, how could a poor rhymer like me appear amongst the great celebrities of Paris? I have sold eighteen hundred copies of my little pieces of poetry (in pamphlet form), and certainly all who speak Gascon know them well. Remember that there are at least six millions of people in Languedoc.'

"My mouth was covered with soap-suds, and I could not answer him for some time. Then I said, 'But a hundred thousand persons at most know how to read, and twenty thousand of them can scarcely be able to enjoy your works.'

"'Well, sir, I am content with that amount. Perhaps you have at Paris more than one writer who possesses his twenty thousand readers. My little reputation would soon carry me astray if I ventured to address all Europe. The voice that appears sonorous in a little place is not heard in the midst of a vast plain. And then, my readers are confined within a radius of forty leagues, and the result is of real advantage to an author.'

"'Ah! And why do you not abandon your razor?' I enquired of this singular poet. 'What would you have?' he said. 'The Muses are most capricious; to-day they give gold, to-morrow they refuse bread. The razor secures me soup, and perhaps a bottle of Bordeaux. Besides, my salon is a little literary circle, where all the young people of the town assemble. When I come from one of the academies of which I am a member, I find myself among the tools which I can manage better than my pen; and most of the members of the circle usually pass through my hands.'

"It is a fact that M. Jasmin shaves more skilfully than any other poet. After a long conversation with this simple-minded man, I experienced a certain confusion in depositing upon his table the amount of fifty centimes which I owed him on this occasion, more for his talent than for his razor; and I remounted the diligence more than charmed with the modesty of his character and demeanour."