d,
and next the ration of turnips and bacon, partly fat and partly lean,
filling the bowl to the top. At the other end of the table was the
pitcher, from which the thirsty were free to drink at will. What
appetites we had and what festive meals those were, especially when a
cream cheese, homemade, was there to complete the banquet!

Near us blazed the huge fireplace, in which whole tree trunks were
consumed in the extreme cold weather. From a corner of that monumental,
soot-glazed chimney, projected, at a convenient height, a bracket with
a slate shelf, which served to light the kitchen when we sat up late. On
this we burnt chips of pine wood, selected among the most translucent,
those containing the most resin. They shed over the room a lurid red
light, which saved the walnut oil in the lamp.

When the bowls were emptied and the last crumb of cheese scraped up,
grandam went back to her distaff, on a stool by the chimney corner. We
children, boys and girls, squatting on our heels and putting out our
hands to the cheerful fire of furze, formed a circle round her and
listened to her with eager ears. She told us stories, not greatly
varied, it is true, but still wonderful, for the wolf often played a
part in them. I should have very much liked to see this wolf, the hero
of so many tales that made our flesh creep; but the shepherd always
refused to take me into his straw hut, in the middle of the fold, at
night. When we had done talking about the horrid wolf, the dragon and
the serpent and when the resinous splinters had given out their last
gleams, we went to sleep the sweet sleep that toil gives. As the
youngest of the household, I had a right to the mattress, a sack stuffed
with oat chaff. The others had to be content with straw.

I owe a great deal to you, dear grandmother: it was in your lap that
I found consolation for my first sorrows. You have handed down to me,
perhaps, a little of your physical vigor, a little of your love of
work; but certainly you were no more accountable than grandfather for my
passion for insects.

Nor was either of my own parents. My mother, who was quite illiterate,
having known no teacher than the bitter experience of a harassed life,
was the exact opposite of what my tastes required for their development.
My peculiarity must seek its origin elsewhere: that I will swear. But
I do not find it in my father, either. The excellent man, who was hard
working and sturdily built like granddad,