fine wood, and carved
beautiful things,--first a spoon for his little sister, with gentians
on the handle; then a nice bowl, with a pretty strawberry-vine carved
all about the edge. And from this bowl, and with this spoon, she ate
her supper every night,--sweet milk, with the dry cakes of rye bread
broken into it, and sometimes the red strawberries. I know his little
sister loved him dearly, and thanked him in her heart every time she
used the pretty things. How dearly a sister and brother can love each
other!

Then he made other things,--knives, forks, and plates; and at last
one day he sharpened his knife very sharp, chose a very nice, delicate
piece of wood, and carved this beautiful chamois, just like a living
one, only so small. My cousin, who was travelling there, bought it and
brought it home.

When the summer had passed, the father came down from the high
pastures; the butter and cheese making was over, and the autumn work
was now to be done. Do you want to know what the autumn work was, and
how Jeannette could help about it? I will tell you. You must know that
a little way down the mountain-side is a grove of chestnut-trees. Did
you ever see the chestnut-trees? They grow in our woods, and on
the shores of some ponds. In the spring they are covered with long,
yellowish blossoms, and all through the hot summer those blossoms are
at work, turning into sweet chestnuts, wrapped safely in round, thorny
balls, which will prick your fingers sadly if you don't take care. But
when the frost of the autumn nights comes, it cracks open the prickly
ball and shows a shining brown nut inside; then, if we are careful,
we may pull off the covering and take out the nut. Sometimes, indeed,
there are two, three, or four nuts in one shell; I have found them so
myself.

Now the autumn work, which I said I would tell you about, is to gather
these chestnuts and store them away,--some to be eaten, boiled or
roasted, by the bright fire in the cold winter days that are coming;
and some to be nicely packed in great bags, and carried on the donkey
down to the town to be sold. The boys of New England, too, know what
good fun it is to gather nuts in the fall, and spread them over the
garret floor to dry, and at last to crack and eat them by the winter
hearth. So when the father says one night at supper-time, "It is
growing cold; I think there will be a frost to-night," Jeannette knows
very well what to do; and she dances away right early