th those hateful apples." She took her fur cloak
and hood, and hastened to the mountain. Everything was covered with
snow; there was not even a footpath. She plunged into the forest,
calling her daughter. The snow fell and the wind blew. She walked on
with feverish anxiety, shouting at the top of her voice. The snow
still fell and the wind still blew.

Dobrunka waited through the evening and the night, but no one
returned. In the morning she took her wheel and spun a whole distaff
full; there was still no news. "What can have happened?" said the
girl, weeping. The sun was shining through an icy mist and the ground
was covered with snow. Dobrunka prayed for her mother and sister. They
did not return; and it was not till spring that a shepherd found the
two corpses in the forest.

Dobrunka remained the sole mistress of the house, the cow, and the
garden, to say nothing of a piece of meadow adjoining the house. But
when a good and pretty girl has a field under her window, the next
thing that follows is a young farmer who offers her his heart and
hand. Dobrunka was soon married. The Twelve Months did not abandon
their child. More than once, when the north wind blew fearfully and
the windows shook in their frames, old January stopped up all the
crevices of the house with snow, so that the cold might not enter this
peaceful abode.

Dobrunka lived to a good old age, always virtuous and happy, having,
according to the proverb, winter at the door, summer in the barn,
autumn in the cellar, and spring in the heart.

Swanda the Piper

_A Bohemian Tale_

[Illustration:]

Swanda, the Piper, was a jolly companion. Like every true musician, he
was born with an unquenchable thirst; besides, he was madly fond of
play, and would have risked his soul at strajak, the favorite game at
cards in Bohemia. When he had earned a little money he would throw
aside his pipes, and drink and play with the first comer till he
returned to his home as light in pocket as when he had left it. But he
was always so merry, witty, and good-natured that not a drinker ever
left the table while the piper was there, and his name still lives in
Bohemia as the prince of good fellows.

One day there was a festival at Mokran, and no merry-making was ever
complete without the piper. Swanda, after blowing his pipe till
midnight and earning twenty zwanzigers, determined to amuse himself on
his own account. Neither prayers nor promises could persuade him