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"Le vrai n'est pas toujours vraisemblable," says an acute observer of human affairs. The romance of real life certainly goes beyond all other romances; and there are facts which few writers would dare to put into a book, as there are skies which few painters would venture to put into a picture.

This, as we spoke in English, she immediately translated for the benefit of the company, adding "Ce Monsieur Anglois dit cela, et c'est bien vrai il a raison," and then she laughed and seemed to enjoy the catalogue of stupid books which might be anticipated.

"Parbleu! you may say that, c'est vrai," remarked the voyageur, with a rueful gaze at his hat, which, besides having its ornamental feather shattered, was sadly cut up about the crown.

"How d'you know that I don't like it?" asked Victor, with a blush and a laugh. "Becowse your face do show it. Ve does not make faces at vat ve loikes." "That may be," retorted Victor, somewhat sharply. "Nevertheless, I have earned a hunter's right to enjoy my pipe as well as the rest of you." "Bon, bon, c'est vrai true," cried Rollin, letting a huge cloud escape from his lips.

The Queen of the French wrote her a formal letter, calmly announcing, as a family event in which she was sure Victoria would be interested, the marriage of her son, Montpensier "qui ajoutera a notre bonheur interieur, le seul vrai dans ce monde, et que vous, madame, savez si bien apprecier." But the English Queen had not long to wait for her revenge.

He picked up a garment or two, placed the Holy Sacrament with pious care in his breast, and we walked together through the mournful and decaying village, passing a few melancholy natives. I said to Père Simeon as he stepped into the canoe, "You are like a shepherd who pursues his sheep wherever they may wander, to gather them into the fold at last." "C'est vrai," he smiled sadly.

Il est vrai que la France sera toujours la France; but all are dead there who knew me. I find myself very well here. Preach in popish chapel, teach schismatic, that is Protestant, child tongues and literature. I find myself very well; and why? Because I know how to govern my tongue; never call people hard names. Ma foi, il y a beaucoup de différence entre moi et ce sacre de Dante.’

It was not the "high season" yet, Mary's waiter at the Paris had said, and the "vrai monde" would not come in its greatest rush until after Christmas and the New Year; yet the Casino was filled with a throng of persons many of whom looked immensely rich and important, and none of whom, at worst, was shabby. Even those who were dowdy appeared well-to-do.

'Ah! mais c'est vrai, cried she, with flashing teeth; and retired, muttering her contempt of English ignorance and impertinence. And, as it befell, she was, if not quite right, at least not quite wrong.

Le Ministre a Thury, 28 Avril, 1697. The other letter to Thury, written two years before, is of the same tenor. The famous Ourehaoue, who had been for years under the influence of the priests, and who, as Charlevoix says, died "un vrai Chretien," being told on his death-bed how Christ was crucified by the Jews, exclaimed with fervor: "Ah! why was not I there?