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 always afforded him a palpable plea for relapsing in that cheerless humour.

Do the events of human life really follow a pre-delineated trait, or does chance sometimes produce oddly united circumstances? Our minds were, indeed, now and then, cheered by lucid and pleasing intervals. Our good humour frequently made ample amends, in an hour, for what we had neglected in the course of several days, when we were refreshed by a sound sleep, if the morning was clear, not too cold, and neither wind nor snow troubled us on the road, which was less frequently the case the nearer we approached the south of France. The most important morning of my life was also the finest I recollect ever to have seen; my mind too partook of the serenity of the sky.

January was already on the verge; and the winter having been as mild as spring, summer seemed to be drawing near. The almond trees were already high in blos-