20 NO RELATIONS. The researches had been carried on by Mr. J the bed a little shelf, which, on being let down J heardsome one speak.my name behind mo I James Milligan, her brother-in-law. But there j formed a table and at its feet another, which urned ™™d c^cWy rt^Jrthw.^hom dailies muii^tiu, lici ur ur-uci-iix-iti"». sj^. *..v.^ , i.»,.».»^.»* «. .«~.~. was something peculiar in his being selectedfor formed a chair this affair, inasmuch as Mr. James Milligan's interest therein was opposed to that of his sis- ter-in-law In short, if his brother died with- out children he would become his heir. His search came to nothing; in England, in France, in Belgium, in Germany, in Italy, it was im- possible to discover what had become of the lost child. However, Mr. James Milligan did not become his brother's heir, for seven months after her husband's death Mrs. Milligan had a baby, who was little Arthur. But this weak and sickly child could not live, the doctor said; he was likely to die at any moment. And some day Mr. James Milligan would at last become heir A little port-hole, cut out of the side of the boat, and which could be closed by a round glass, served to light and ventilate this room. Never had I seen anything so pretty or _ so clean; everything was made of polished pine wood, on the floor was laid down a black and white checkered oil-cloth. But it was not the eves alone that were charmed. When, after having undressed, I lay down in the bed, I felt a sensation of well-being quite new to me: it was the first time that sheets soothed my skin instead of chafing it. At Mother Barberin's I slept in hempen sheets, which were stiff and rough. Vitalis and I con- stantly went to bed without sheets at all, upon Mr. James Milligan would at last Decome neir sianuy weui iu ucu n™u. "=Xr^r . —' r— to the title and fortune of his eldest brother; for ! straw or hay; and when they did give us any the laws of inheritance are not the same in at the inns, a good litter of straw had been all countries, and in England they permit an uncle to inherit under certain circumstances, to the exclusion of a mother. Mr. James Milligan's hopes were thus re- tarded by the birth of his nephew : they were not crushed; he had only to wait. He waited. But the doctor's predictions were not realized : Arthur remained weakly; he did not die, how- ever, as it had been decided that he would; his mother's care kept him alive. It is a miracle which, thank God, is often repeated. Twenty times they thought him lost, twenty times he was saved. He had had, one after another, sometimes all together, every ailment that can fasten upon children. Latterly a ter- rible infliction, called coxalgia, and which is seated in the hip, had shown itself. Sulphur springs had been ordered for this malady, and j Mrs. Milligan had come to the Pyrenees. at the inns, a good litter of straw had been nearly always better. How fine they were, those in which I rolled myself! how soft they were! how nice they smelt! And the mattress, how much more yielding it was than the pine needles on which Ihad slept last night! The silence of night was no longer terrifying, the gloom was no longer peopled; and the stars that I looked at through the port-hole no longer spoke aught to me save words of encourage- ment and of hope. . Comfortably as I had slept in this good bed, I rose at day-break, for I was uneasy to know how my comedians had passed the night. I found all my folks in the place where I had established them the night before, and sleeping as if this boat had been their dwelling- place for months. At my approach the dogs awoke, and came joyfully to ask for their morning caress. Joli Cœur, although he had one eye half open, after ITaVin^usdessiy tried The "waters; another never'stirred, "but began to snore like a trom- treatment had been recommended, which con- bone. ft„„„j0„,„ri sisted in keeping the invalid lying down at full It did not require a great effort to understand length without allowing him to put foot on the what that meant: Monsieur Joli Cœur, who ground It was then that Mrs. Milligan had j was susceptibility itself, got out of temper with had built at Bordeaux the boat on which I had extreme facility, and once out of temper, sulked lust embarked I for a long time. Just at present he was an- She could not think of allowing her son to be noyed because I had not carried him int^my .shut up in-doors; he would have died of wear! ness and the want of fresh air. Arthur being unable to move about the house, the house in which he dwelt must move about for him and with him room with me, and he showed me his displeas ure by shamming slumber. I could not explain to him the reasons whicli had obliged me, very regretfully, to leave him on deck; and, as I felt that I had, at least in ith trim ' uu ricun, auu, a.v i. i»-». v»»»«. * -.----, ~- -- — - .— Thev had transformed a boat into a floating ! appearance, behaved badly to *"m, I took him house, with bedroom, kitchen, sitting room, and , in my arms to express my sorrow by a few ca- veranda In the sitting-room or under the veran- \ resses. . da according to the state of the weather, Arthur At first he persisted in his sulkiness, but staid from inorrfing to night, his mother at soon, with his changeable disposi ion, he hfss^ideTnd the landscape! passed in procès- I thought of something else and by his panto nis sine anu uie '*rm^.™ Xj_-i.««.J51n' ™»r ™4mo ovrrlninftd to me that if I would take hin sion before him, without his giving himself any other trouble than to open his eyes. They had left Bordeaux a month ago, and, after having ascended the Garonne, they had entered the Canal du Midi; this canal would bring them to the lakes and canals that run along the Mediterranean shore. Then they would ascend the Rhone, after it the Saone, passing from this river into the Loire as far as Briare, and there through the canal of that name reach the Seine, and follow the course of Oliwugnt »yi „»y»i»»-.»i."_-------'.-7 -i.. I »* , • mime explained to me that if I would take him for a walk on land he might perhaps forgive me. The boatman whom I had seen the night be- fore at the helm was already up and busy clean- ing the deck; he was quite willing to put out the plank, and I was able to go out into the field with my company. Playing with the dogs and Joli Cœur, run- ning, jumping the ditches, and climbing trees, the time passed quickly. When we came back nninp reach the Seme, and IOUOW me course m mc nmo p»»,u H«.«...j. .. —-— ----------- . taa" rfrer as far as Rouen, where they would i the horses were harnessed to the boat and fast rnai river as iai as ™""0 >__ -r»„ii„„,j ar.ari ts, » rvinlar nn t.hfbt.owing-oath: thev onh embark in a great ship to return to England Of course it was not on the day of my ar- rival that I learned all these details about Mrs. Milligan and Arthur. I only knew them one after the other, little by little; and if I have gathered them together here, it is to make my story understood. The day of my arrival I was made acquainted only with the room which I was to occupy in ened to a poplar on the> towing-path; they only awaited a crack of the whip to start. I got on board quickly; a few minutes after- wards the rope that held the boat to the bank was loosened, the 'helmsman took his place at the tiller, the towman mounted his horse, the pulley through which the tow-line passed groaned: we were off. How delightful to travel in a boat! OCCUPY m nun vi»-.,&u......- -------- — - ---- - tWbo'at, which was'called the Swan. Although ! horses trotted along the towing-path and wita- it was very small, this room, about twelve feet out our feeling any motion we glided hgh.lv long by six broad, it was the most charming through the water: the t wo wooded bank s fled cabin, the most wonderful that a childish im- ! behind us, and one heard no other soundXhan agination could dream of. The furniture with ! that of the water against the keel and sides, which it was fitted consisted of one cfcest of j whose rippling splash mingled with th i clink- drawers- but this chest of drawers was like a l ing of the little bells that the horses wore at conTure^'s inexhaustible bottle, which, contains their necks. We went on, and, leaning over such a number of things. Instead of being fixed, the top was movable; and when you lift- ed it you found beneath it a complete bed, mattress, pillow, and bedclothes. Of course this bed was not very large; how- ever, it was quite large enough for one to be very comfortable in it. Under this bed was a llieu rrrruno. i.~ ».».— .---,-----,-----——a the side, I looked at the poplars which, with their roots buried in the cool grass, rose up proudly, shaking their ever-trembling leaves m the still morning air: their long ranks, drawn up in line along the bank, formed a thick green curtain which stopped the slanting rays of the sun, only shedding upon us a soft light that vprv comfortable in it. unaer mis ueu whs » sun, umy &ucluuu5 up^u ~~ «-------.-- draper filled with all tiie articles necessary for I filtered through the branches. Thewaterlooked one's toilet; and underneath this drawer was , in some places quite black, as if it hid MBtc another divided into several compartments, in ; omable abysses; elsewhere, on the contrai}, it wS you could arrange your line? aud clothes i spread itself .out in trausparen s « whmh ¦No tables no chairs at least not of the usual , revealed shining pebbles and velvety grasses, sort! but 'against tS partition at the head of ' I was absorbed in my contemplation when I they were bringing out on his plank : his mother was near him. "Have you slept well?" asked Arthur; ".bet- ter than in the fields?" I came near and answered, trying to find po- lite words, which I addressed , to tho mother quite as much as to the child. ." And the dogs?" said he. * : I called them, and Joli Cœur too. They came forward bowing, and Joli Cœur making gri- maces, as if he foresaw that we were going to give a performance. But there was no question of any performance that morning. Mrs. Milligan had installed her son in a place shaded from the rays of the sun, and she had seated herself beside him. " Will you take away the dogs and the monkey?" said she to me. " We have work to do." I did what was required of me, and I went away with my company quite to the prow. What work was this poor little invalid fit for? I saw that his mother made him repeat a lesson, ' the text of which she followed from an open book. Stretched upon his plank, Arthur re- peated, without making any movement,—or rather he tried to repeat, for he hesitated ter- ribly, and did not say three words fluently; besides that, he often made mistakes. His mother corrected him gently, but at the same time with firmness. "You do not know your fable," she said. It seemed strange to me hearing her say " you " to her son; for I did not know at that time that English people do not use the "thee" and "thou." "Oh, mamma!" said he, in a piteous voice. " You make more mistakes to-day than you did yesterday." "I tried to learn. " And you have not learned." " I was not able." "Why?" _ " I don't know; because I was not able; I am ill." " Your head is not ill. I will never consent to your learning nothing, growing up in ig- norance, under pretext of illness." She seemed to me very strict, Mrs. Milligan; and still she spoke without anger, and in a gen- tle voice. "Why do you distress me by not learning your lessons?" " I cannot, mamma; I assure you that J can- not." And Arthur began to cry. But Mrs. Milligan did not allow herself to be overcome by his tears, although she seemed touched and even distressed, as she had said. "I should have liked to let you play this morning with Remi and the dogs," continued she: " but you shall not play until you have re- peated your fable without a mistake." So saving, she gave the book to Arthur, and took a few steps as if to go into the interior of the boat, leaving her son lying on his plank. He cried and sobbed, and from my place I heard his broken voice. How could Mrs. Milligan be strict with this poor little fellow that she seemed to love so ten- derly? If he could not learn his lesson it was not his fault, but was caused by his illness, no doubt. She was about to disappear then without say- ing a kind word to him. But she did not dis- appear: instead of entering the boat she came back to her son. " Would you like that we should learn it to- gether?" she said. " Oh, yes, mamma,—together." Then she sat down by him, and, taking the book again, began to read the fable slowly: it was called " The Wolf and the Lamb." After her, Arthur repeated the words and phrases. When she had read this fable three times, she gave the book to Arthur; and, telling him to learn by himself now, she went inside. Arthur began to read his fable directly, and from my place where I had stopped I saw his lips moving. It was evident that he was work- ing and applying himself to it. But this indus- try did not "last' long: he soon lifted his eyes from the book, and his lips moved more slowly, then all of a sudden they stopped completely. He was no longer reading, or repeating. His eyes, which were wandering in all directions, met mine. I made him a sign with my hand to induce him to go back to his lesson. 1 He smiled gently, as if to tell me that he