that a pious society had already long since arisen in Dauphiné. An aged man lived there upon a high mountain in the middle of a wood. He had a glass manufactory in that solitude. Now we have all experienced that mountain and valley, the air that one breathes there, the murmurings, the singular voices, the cry and the echo, make a man bolder, fresher, and also more imaginative; he no longer fears his brethren in the cities, he prizes not so highly the stone-houses and the smooth streets, and all the singing of bells. The man Du Serre had visions and revelations. He did not, however, go about preaching. He, as well as myself, was wanting in that gift, but he was endowed with that of foresight. Can one learn that from another? we must believe it, and our times confirrm it. But how? there lies the riddle! Should it be called an art? by no means! The enemies call it imposture, that is impious. Well, this glass-manufacturer kept fifteen young men in his house, and his wife as
