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