fastened under the chin maintained the equilibrium of this elegant,
but unsteady circle. Pickles, hemp, chickens, curds and whey,
butter; washing the clothes, minding the children, seeing to the
meals of the household: say that and you have summed up the
strenuous woman's round of ideas. On her left side, the distaff,
with its load of flax; in her right hand, the spindle turning under
a quick twist of her thumb, moistened at intervals with her tongue:
so she went through life, unwearied, attending to the order and the
welfare of the house. I see her in my mind's eye particularly on
winter evenings, which were more favorable to family talk. When
the hour came for meals, all of us, big and little, would take our
seats round a long table, on a couple of benches, deal planks
supported by four rickety legs. Each found his wooden bowl and his
tin spoon in front of him. At one end of the table always stood an
enormous rye loaf, the size of a cartwheel, wrapped in a linen
cloth with a pleasant smell of washing, and remained until nothing
was left of it. With a vigorous stroke, grandfather would cut off
enough for the needs of the moment; then he would divide the piece
among us with the one knife which he alone was entitled to wield.
It was now each one's business to break up his bit with his fingers
and to fill his bowl as he pleased.

Next came grandmother's turn. A capacious pot bubbled lustily and
sang upon the flames in the hearth, exhaling an appetizing savor of
bacon and turnips. Armed with a long metal ladle, grandmother
would take from it, for each of us in turn, first the broth,
wherein to soak the bread, 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