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By ANDRE THEURIET With a Preface by MELCHIOR DE VOGUE, of the French academy His ancestors came from Lorraine. He was educated at Bar-le-Duc and went to Paris in 1854 to study jurisprudence. After finishing his courses he entered the Department of the Treasury, and after an honorable career there, resigned as chef-de-bureau. He is a poet, a dramatist, but, above all, a writer of great fiction.
I do not know whether I more envy M. Theuriet the pleasure of having written this delightful article, or the reader the pleasure, which I hope he has still before him, of reading it once and again, and lingering over the passages that please him most. At the famous bridge of Doon, Kyle, the central district of the shire of Ayr, marches with Carrick, the most southerly.
'Nous ne decrivons jamais mieux la nature que lorsque nous nous efforcons d'exprimer sobrement et simplement l'impression que nous en avons recue. M. ANDRE THEURIET, 'L'Automne dans les Bois, Revue des Deux Mondes, 1st Oct. 1874, p.562.
"Madame is taking her refection in my lady's boudoir," he remarked, when the dishes had been removed. "You may bring up a bottle of Frontiniac from bin thirteen, Theuriet. Oh, you will see, gentlemen, that even in the wilds we have a little, a very little, which is perhaps not altogether bad. And so you come from Versailles, De Catinat?
Theuriet is a poet as well as a novelist, and his poetry is said by competent critics to be very good; but the public looks with a more kindly eye upon his novels, and as their author cannot afford to disdain contemporary profit and reputation, he has been obliged rather to show the cold shoulder to the Muse.
Such other well-known men as Emile Zola, Andre Theuriet, and Catulle Mendes, also figured on the list. There is now an annual "Exposition Feline Internationale." In this country the first cat show of general interest was held at Madison Square Garden, New York, in May, 1895.
The fact remains that Bastien-Lepage stands at the head of the modern movement in many ways. His friend, M. André Theuriet, has shown, in a brochure published some years ago, that he was himself as interesting as his pictures. He took his art very seriously, and spoke of it with a dignity rather uncommon in the atmosphere of the studios, where there is apt to be more enthusiasm than reflection.
"If you stand by the fort I will not desert you," said he, "and yet it is a pity to sacrifice brave men for nothing." "The canoes will hardly hold the women and children as it is," cried Theuriet. "There are but two large and four small. There is not space for a single man." "Then that decides it," said De Catinat. "But who are to row the women?"
Another writer whom I used to meet in Paris, at About's and at his own house, was André Theuriet, favorably known in America by his lovely little story of Gérard's Marriage. I had read that and other almost equally charming tales of its author, and felt a strong desire to see him.
"Theuriet, the major-domo, is giving out powder in the main store-house." "Very good." Amos vanished upstairs, and returned with a large linen bag in his hand. This he filled with powder, and then, slinging it over his shoulder, he carried it out to the clump of bushes and placed it at the base of the sapling, cutting a strip out of the bark immediately above the spot.
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