"I must inform you, in all humility, that I often cannot compose more than two or three lines a day. My five poems, L'Aveugle, Mes Souvenirs, Franconnette, Martha the Innocent, and Les Deux Jumeaux, have cost me ten years' work, and they only contain in all but 2,400 verses! . . . I cannot write poetry by command. I cannot be a prisoner while I compose. Therefore I decline to enter the lists with you.

"The courser who drags his chariot with difficulty, albeit he may arrive at the goal, cannot contend with the fiery locomotive of the iron railway. The art which produces verses one by one, depends upon inspiration, not upon manufacture. Therefore my muse declares itself vanquished in advance; and I authorise you to publish my refusal of your challenge."

In a postscript, Jasmin added: "Now that you have made the acquaintance of my Muse, I will, in a few words, introduce you to the man. I love glory, but the success of others never troubles my sleep at night!"

"When one finds," says Sainte-Beuve, "this theory of work pushed to such a degree by Jasmin, with whom the spark of inspiration seems always so prompt and natural, what a sad return we have of the poetical wealth dissipated by the poets of our day." Sainte-Beuve summed up his praise of the Gascon poet by insisting that he was invariably sober in his tone.

"I have learned," said Jasmin of himself, "that in moments of heat and emotion we may be eloquent or laconic, alike in speech and action--unconscious poets, in fact; but I have also learned that it is possible for a poet to become all this voluntarily by dint of patient toil and conscientious labour!"

Jasmin was not the man to rest upon his laurels. Shortly after his visit to Paris in 1842, he began to compose his Martha the Innocent, which we have already briefly described. Two years later he composed Les Deux Frères Jumeaux--a story of paternal and motherly affection. This was followed by his Ma Bigno ('My Vineyard'), and La Semaine d'un Fils ('The Week's Work of a Son'), which a foot-note tells us is historical, the event having recently occurred in the neighbourhood of Agen.

A short description may be given of this affecting story. The poem is divided into three parts. In the first, a young boy and his sister, Abel and Jeanne, are described as kneeling before a cross in the moonlight, praying to the Virgin to cure their father. "Mother of God, Virgin compassionate, send down thine Angel and cure our sick father. Our mother will then be happy, and we, Blessed Virgin, will love and praise thee for ever."

The Virgin hears their prayer, and the father is cured. A woman opens the door of a neighbouring house and exclaims joyously, "Poor little ones, death has departed. The poison of the fever is counteracted, and your father's life is saved. Come, little lambs, and pray to God with me." They all three kneel and pray by the side of the good father Hilaire, formerly a brave soldier, but now a mason's labourer. This ends the first part.

The second begins with a description of morning. The sun shines through the glass of the casement mended with paper, yet the morning rays are bright and glorious. Little Abel glides into his father's room. He is told that he must go to the house of his preceptor to-day, for he must learn to read and write. Abel is "more pretty than strong;" he is to be an homme de lettres, as his little arms would fail him if he were to handle the rough stones of his father's trade. Father and son embraced each other.

For a few days all goes well, but on the fourth, a Sunday, a command comes from the master mason that if Hilaire does not return to his work to-morrow, his place shall be given to another. This news spreads dismay and consternation among them all. Hilaire declares that he is cured, tries to rise from his bed, but falls prostrate through weakness. It will take a week yet to re-establish his health.

The soul of little Abel is stirred. He dries his tears and assumes the air of a man; he feels some strength in his little arms. He goes out, and proceeds to the house of the master mason. When he returns, he is no longer sorrowful: honey was in his mouth, and his eyes were smiling." He said, "My father, rest yourself: gain