s that mingled with these early impressions were doubtless soon
dispelled. He shows later a perfectly clear perception of the degenerate
condition of his parishioners, but his eagerness to serve them waxes
with his sense of their need. Neff was in modern times their first
regularly-appointed pastor. A son of Oberlin, whose short but devoted
life shows him to have inherited his father's spirit, had once
undertaken the provisional charge of the parish, but only for a few
months. In general, it had had no ministry beyond occasional visits from
the pastor of Orpierre, the other section of the department.

The valley of Fressiniere at once attracted Neff's peculiar regard. It
was the part of his parish most difficult of access and most cut off
from any chance of material prosperity. The climate is such that in
unfavorable seasons even rye will not ripen, and the patches of potatoes
straggling forlornly among the rocks often fail to reach maturity. No
other grain or vegetable can be raised. Mould quickly attacks the flour
in this mountain-air, and the year's baking is accordingly done in the
autumn as soon as the rye comes back from the mill. The coarse black
loaves grow perfectly hard in a few weeks, and have to be chopped into
pieces and soaked in hot water before they can be eaten. It is only at
the head of the valley, above the hamlet of Dourmillouse, that any
pastures are found, and many of those are inaccessible to cattle and
scarcely safe for sheep. They are besides so meagre that in dry summers
no hay can be made, and the peasants are forced to sell their beasts at
a loss or else see them die for want of food. The addition of a little
salted meat to the half-grown potatoes and the stony bread is a luxury
of only the most prosperous years. The bald mountain-slopes furnish no
fuel, and it is of course only in the smallest quantities that the
people can afford to buy wood in the valley of the Durance. Their
resource against the winter's cold is moving into their stables, where,
huddled together in a corner cleared for the purpose, they pass four or
five months. The smoky and confined air is a welcome change from the icy
winds outside, and the steaming cattle are a source of grateful warmth.
"This village," Neff writes, about the middle of September, from the
smallest and most destitute of the hamlets of Fressiniere, "is squeezed
up in the very narrowest gorge of the valley, and is now buried in snow,
and without the hope