"That is very critically observed," said the Counsellor.

"My honoured sir," continued the priest, "it is incredible how consistent and reasonable nature is in all her productions. To analyse her in her minutest parts is instructive, however ridiculous it may appear to the unpractised. More than a century ago, the Neapolitan, De la Porte, wrote an excellent book on physiognomy comparing the human and the brutal together; in the earlier ages people tried to read on the countenance the virtues, vices, and qualities of the disposition: Believe me, if I could devote my leisure hours to this subject, I am confident I should carry it so far as to be able to discover from a shoe, or a boot, that had been worn for a time, many faults or peculiarities of its possessor."

"Really?" said the old Lord smiling, "They betray themselves by the garments, when closely examined; the hasty, or irresolute gait, the shuffling of the feet, the gliding step of ladies, are certainly very expressive; a certain nonchalant manner of walking, a haughty tread of the heel, an affected, frivolous sliding on tip toe, the indecisive tottering footstep, by which the shoe loses its shape, excepting the qualities which however demonstrate themselves by the high, or low instep, or by the flatness of the foot. But now for the legs; if these were exhibited in their natural state, it would be scarcely possible to mistake the rank, profession, and way of life; then there are tailor's and baker's legs, which it is impossible not to recognise, foot and cavalry soldier's legs, weaver's and joiner's legs, and so on."

"These are very interesting observations," said the Counsellor, "would you, for instance, venture to declare the former manner of life of my Frantz by his legs?"

"By my legs?" exclaimed the old servant, who was still busied in clearing away. "Here they are, reverend sir."

"Stoop a little--now go yonder--come back again--stand perfectly upright--my Lord Counsellor, I could swear that your Frantz has been in his youth, nay at a later period of life, a mariner."'

The servant looked at the priest astounded, and the Lord of Beauvais said: "You have hit it, my reverend friend; but from what do you draw your conclusion?"

"No mariner," said the priest "ever loses entirely the straggling and somewhat stooping gait which he has acquired on shipboard, he sinks his loins in walking, and a slight limp remains for the rest of his life."

When the other servant approached, the priest immediately cried out, "Give yourself no further trouble, one can see at the distance of a gun-shot, that the good man has been a tailor in his youth, and that he certainly pursues the same occupation now, for the bent shins clearly demonstrate it." "You follow the chase," turning to the huntsman who was standing; "it must be so, although I should rather have taken you for a soldier, and from the eye, for a smuggler; by the bye, what is the matter with your right knee? it certainly is not from attending mass, from whence then does this slight protuberance proceed? perhaps you have acquired the strange habit of falling on your right knee when you shoot?"

"Reverend sir," exclaimed the huntsman, "you must be a bit of a wizard yourself, for you have hit the mark. From my youth upwards I have never been able to shoot but in a kneeling position; should a hare run by under my nose, I cannot hit it standing, I must first throw myself down; but I have always been much ridiculed by my companions for it."