good sisters, his instructors, for not having taught him the true refinements of the French language, its nerve and its delicacy. He accordingly set himself to learn them with all his might; not speaking much, it is true, but not the less inwardly studying for all that. In two days (such is the progress of evil in young minds) he forgot all that had been taught him, and in less than three was as offhand a swearer as any in the boat. He swore worse than an old devil at the bottom of a holywater box. It has been said, that nobody becomes abandoned at once. Ver-Vert scorned the saying. He had a contempt for any more novitiates. He became a blackguard in the twinkling of an eye. In short, on one of the boatmen exclaiming, "Go to the devil," Ver-Vert echoed the wretch! The company applauded, and he swore again. Nay, he swore other oaths. A new vanity seized him; and degrading his generous organ, he now felt no other ambition but that of pleasing the wicked.

During these melancholy scenes, what were you about, chaste nuns of the convent of Nevers? Doubtless you were putting up vows for the safe return of the vilest of ingrates, a vagabond unworthy of your anxiety, who holds his former loves in contempt. Anxious affection is in your hearts, melancholy in your dwelling. Cease your prayers, dear deluded ones; dry up your tears. Ver-Vert is no longer worthy of you; he is a raf, an apostate, a The winds and the water-nymphs

common swearer.

have spoilt the fruit of your labours. Genius he may be still; but what is genius without virtue?

Meanwhile, the boat was approaching the town of Nantes, where the new sisters of the Visitation expected it with impatience. The days and nights had never been so long. During all their torments, however, they had the image of the coming angel before them,the polished soul, the bird of noble breeding, the tender, sincere, and edifying voicebehaviour, sentiments, distinguished merit - oh grief! what is it all to come to?

The boat arrives; the passengers disembark. A lay-sister of the turning-box* was waiting in the dock, where she had been over and over again at stated times, ever since the letters were despatched. Her looks, darting over the water, seemed to hasten the vessel that conveyed our hero. The rascal guessed her business at first sight. Her prudish eyes, letting a look out at the corner, her great coif, white gloves, dying voice, and little pendant cross, were not to be mistaken. Ver-Vert ruffled his feathers with disgust. There is reason to believe that he gave her internally to the devil. He was now all for the army, and could not bear the thought of new ceremonies and litanies. However, my gentleman was obliged to submit. The lay-sister carried him off in spite of his vociferations. They say, he bit her in going; some say in the neck, others on the arm. I believe it is not well known where he

* A box at the convent-gate, by which things are received.

bit her; but the circumstance is of no consequence. Off he went. The devotee was soon within the convent, and the visitor's arrival was announced.

Here's a noise! At the first sound of the news, the bell was set ringing. The nuns were at prayers, but up they all jump. They shriek, they clap their hands, they fly. ""T is he, sister! "Tis he! He is in the great parlour!" The great parlour is filled in a twinkling. Even the old nuns, marching in order, forget the weight of their years. The whole house was grown young again. It is said to have been on this occasion, that Mother Angelica ran for the first time.

CHAPTER THE LAST.

Admiration of the parrot's new friend converted into astonishment and horror.-Ver-Vert keeps no measures with his shocking acquirements.-The nuns fly from him in terror, and determine upon instantly sending him back, not, however, without pity. His return, and astonishment of his old friends. -He is sentenced to solitary confinement, which restores his virtue.-Transport of the nuns, who kill him with kindness.

Ar length the blessed spectacle bursts upon the good sisters. They cannot satiate their eyes with admiring and in truth, the rascal was not the less handsome for being less virtuous. His military look and petit maître airs gave him even a new charm. All mouths burst out in his praise; all at once.

He

however, does not deign to utter one pious word, but stands rolling his eyes like a young Carmelite. Grief the first. There was a scandal in this air of effrontery. In the second place, when the Prioress, with an august air, and like an inward-hearted creature as she was, wished to interchange a few sentiments with the bird, the first words my gentleman uttered, the only answer he condescended to give, and that too with an air of nonchalance, or rather contempt, and like an unfeeling villain, was,— “What a pack of fools these nuns are!"

History says he learned these words on the road. At this debût, Sister Augustin, with an air of the greatest sweetness, hoping to make their visitor cautious, said to him, "For shame, my dear brother.” The dear brother, not to be corrected, rhymed her a word or two, too audacious to be repeated.

"Holy Jesus!" exclaimed the sister; "he is a sorcerer, my dear mother!-Just Heaven! what a wretch! Is this the divine parrot!"

Ver-Vert, like a reprobate at the gallows, made no other answer than by setting up a dance, and singing, "Here we go up, up, up;" which, to improve, he commenced with an "Oh d-mme."

The nuns would have stopped his mouth; but he was not to be hindered. He gave a buffoon imitation of the prattle of the young sisters; and then shutting his beak, and dropping into a palsied imbecility, mimicked the nasal drawl of his old enemies, the antiques!

But it was still worse, when, tired and worn out with the stale sentences of his reprovers, Ver-Vert foamed and raged like a corsair, thundering out all the terrible words he had learned aboard the vessel. Heavens! how he swore, and what things he said! His dissolute voice knew no bounds. The lower regions themselves appeared to open before them. Words not to be thought of danced upon his beak. The young sisters thought he was talking Hebrew.

"Oh!-blood and 'ouns! Whew! D-m-n! Here's a h-11 of a storm!"

At these tremendous utterances, all the place trembled with horror. The nuns, without more ado, fled a thousand ways, making as many signs of the cross. They thought it was the end of the world. Poor Mother Cicely, falling on her nose, was the ruin of her last tooth. "Eternal Father!" exclaimed Sister Vivian, opening with difficulty a sepulchral voice; " Lord have mercy on us! who has sent us this antichrist? Sweet Saviour! What a conscience can it be, which swears in this manner, like one of the damned? Is this the famous wit, the sage Ver-Vert, who is so beloved and extolled? For Heaven's sake, let him depart from among us without more ado."-"O God of love!" cried sister Ursula, taking up the lamentation; "What horrors! Is this the way they talk among our sisters at Nevers? This their perverse language! This the manner in which they form