chaff of winnowed corn. Two sliding planks serve as shutters and
close the chest if the sleeper would be alone. This dormitory,
sheltered under the chimney mantel, supplies couches for the
favored ones of the house, the two boarders. They must lie snug in
there at night, with their shutters closed, when the north wind
howls at the mouth of the dark valley and sends the snow awhirl.
The rest is occupied by the hearth and its accessories: the three-
legged stools; the salt box, hanging against the wall to keep its
contents dry; the heavy shovel which it takes two hands to wield;
lastly, the bellows similar to those with which I used to blow out
my cheeks in grandfather's house. They consist of a mighty branch
of pine, hollowed throughout its length with a red-hot iron. By
means of this channel, one's breath is applied, from a convenient
distance, to the spot which is to be revived. With a couple of
stones for supports, the master's bundle of sticks and our own logs
blaze and flicker, each of us having to bring a log of wood in the
morning, if he would share in the treat.

For that matter, the fire was not exactly lit for us, but, above
all, to warm a row of three pots in which simmered the pigs' food,
a mixture of potatoes and bran. That, despite the tribute of a
log, was the real object of the brushwood fire. The two boarders,
on their stools, in the best places, and we others sitting on our
heels formed a semicircle around those big cauldrons, full to the
brim and giving off little jets of steam, with puff-puff-puffing
sounds. The bolder among us, when the master's eyes were engaged
elsewhere, would dig a knife into a well cooked potato and add it
to their bit of bread; for I must say that, if we did little work
in my school, at least we did a deal of eating. It was the regular
custom to crack a few nuts and nibble at a crust while writing our