which, in quiet
beauty, surpassed anything that they had seen.

"This reminds me more of home," she said, "than any country through
which we have passed. I have got several hundred louis which good
Richard saved when our house was plundered, and we can afford to rent
a little cottage."

The old Tyrolese peasant told her that there was no house for sale in
all the valley. "But," said he, "you can board in my cottage if you
choose."

The price was agreed upon, and the duchess and her son became inmates
of the family. The little room which was to be their home was very
plainly furnished; but simple as it was, the first thing that she did
on entering it was to kneel there with her child, and thank God for a
shelter. She arranged her affairs as well as she could for a
permanent residence with the Tyrolese peasant, and she began to look
upon it as home.

One day she told the peasant that she wished to send her little boy
Carl to school, if there was a good schoolmaster in the neighborhood.

"The pastor in a neighboring village," said the peasant, "will be here
to-day to catechise my child. He teaches school, and I think you can
make an arrangement with him."

That day the gray-haired old pastor came, and an arrangement was made
with him for Carl to go to school to him. Books were provided for him,
and he went to school with the greatest pleasure. He was a rapid
student, and repeated his lessons every evening to his mother.

In the Tyrol a great many canary birds are trained, and are sold to
dealers all through the country. The old Tyrolese peasant with whom
the duchess and Carl were boarding had a young and beautiful bird,
which sang very sweetly. Carl asked his mother to buy this bird,
saying,--

"Mother, this bird is very much like the one that our dear, sweet
Lillie used to have. Buy it for me, so that it may learn how to sing."

The duchess bought the bird, and soon became very much attached to it.
Carl took the greatest pleasure in its training, and in due time,
little Tim--for that was his name--would come to him and peck at his
fingers, and rub his little head on Carl's hand.

Carl was a natural musician, just as his father was, and would
sometimes play on a flute which the old Tyrolese peasant had. Little
Tim would imitate his tunes, and sometimes the concert was well worth
hearing.

The old pastor provided the duchess with news. One day he gave her a
French newspaper, and in the first column which she