Near the door, in an old wheel-chair, the arm-chair of the peasants, there was a white-haired man, s

Near the door, in an old wheel-chair, the arm-chair of the peasants, there was a white-haired man, smiling at the sun. Near the seated man stood a young boy, the shepherd lad. He was offering the old man a jar of milk. While the Bishop was watching him, the old man spoke: "Thank you," he said, "I need nothing." And his smile quitted the sun to rest upon the child. The Bishop stepped forward. At the sound which he made in walking, the old man turned his head, and his face expressed the sum total of the surprise which a man can still feel after a long life. "This is the first time since I have been here," said he, "that any one has entered here. I voted the end of the tyrant, that is to say, the end of prostitution for woman, the end of slavery for man, the end of night for the child. In voting for the Republic, I voted for that. I voted for fraternity, concord, the dawn. I have aided in the overthrow of prejudices and errors. The crumbling away of prejudices and errors causes light. We