father's brother was still a vigorous hunter and was also a
cooper by trade; his wife, a lively little person, had what is called
a bird's face; her eyes resembled those of an eagle and she had a
long neck entirely covered with down.

Everything was new to Rudy, the dress, manners and customs, yes, even
the language, but that is soon acquired and understood by a child's
ear. Here, they seemed to be better off, than in his grandfather's
house; the dwelling rooms were larger, the walls looked gay with their
chamois horns and highly polished rifles; over the door-way hung the
picture of the blessed Virgin; alpine roses and a burning lamp stood
before it.

His uncle, was as we have said before, one of the most famous chamois
hunters in the neighbourhood and also the most experienced and best
guide.

Rudy was to be the pet of the household, although there already was
one, an old deaf and blind dog, whom they could no longer use; but
they remembered his many past services and he was looked upon as a
member of the family and was to pass his old days in peace. Rudy
patted the dog, but he would have nothing to do with strangers; Rudy
did not long remain one, for he soon took firm hold both in house and
heart.

"One is not badly off in Canton Valais," said his uncle, "we have the
chamois, they do not die out so soon as the mountain goat! It is a
great deal better here now, than in the old times; they may talk about
their glory as much as they please. The present time is much better,
for a hole has been made in the purse and light and air let into our
quiet valley. When old worn-out customs die away, something new
springs forth!" said he. When uncle became talkative, he told of the
years of his childhood and of his father's active time, when Valais
was still a closed purse, as the people called it, and when it was
filled with sick people and miserable cretins. French soldiers came,
they were the right kind of doctors, they not only shot down the
sickness but the men also.

"The Frenchmen can beat the stones until they surrender! they cut the
Simplon-road out of the rocks--they have hewn out such a road, that I
now can tell a three year old child to go to Italy! Keep to the
highway, and a child may find his way there!" Then the uncle would
sing a French song and cry hurrah for Napoleon Bonaparte.

Rudy now heard for the first time of France, of Lyons--the large city
of the Rhone--for his uncle had been there.

"I wonder