Mist and rain made it impossible for me to ascend the "Grey Tooth" for
some days after I had arrived at Winkelsteg, the highest village in the
remotest valley, and I was temporarily lodged in the schoolhouse, which
had been deserted since the schoolmaster, who--so I was told--had lived
in this out-of-the-way corner for fifty years, had disappeared last
Christmas. The whole next day the rain continued to beat against the
window. There was nothing to be done, and I spent my time in arranging
the scattered but numbered sheets of the vanished schoolmaster's
manuscript, which I found littered in the drawer allotted to me for my
scant belongings. And then I began to read that strange man's diary, the
first page of which only bore the words:


_The Papers of the Forest Schoolmaster_


So I am at last settled in this wilderness. And I will write it all
down, although I know not for whom. My father died when I was seven, and
I was taken charge of by an itinerant umbrella-maker who taught me his
trade, and on his death left me his stock of some two dozen umbrellas,
which I took to the market. A heavy shower just at midday helped me to
sell them rapidly, and I only retained one for my own protection and for
that of an elegant gentleman who, unable to secure a carriage, made me
accompany him to town to save him from getting drenched. He made me tell
him all about myself, and offered to take me as apprentice in his
bookshop. He was a kind master. When he discovered' that I was more
interested in the contents of his books than in my work he secured me
admission in a college. I studied hard, and obtained my meals at the