aders already know at Leigoutte, presented a most
picturesque appearance. The snow had been so heavy for several days that
the woodcutters had not been up the mountains to bring down the wood,
but this morning they had determined to make an attempt, and had
gathered before the inn with their long light sledges on their
shoulders. They seemed to be waiting for some one. "Can Simon be sick?"
asked one of these men, finally.

"Not he!" answered another. "He is at the school-room with the children,
and he never knows when to leave them."

"Oh! that is very well," grumbled a third, "but I think we had better
go in and get a glass of wine, than wait here all this time."

"Have a little patience, friend; if Simon teaches our children, it is
that they may be better off than their fathers, and not like them be
compelled to die with cold and fatigue some day among the mountains!"

"Well said, friend, well said!" called out a full rich voice.

Every one turned. The door of the school-room was open, and he who had
spoken was standing with arms outspread to prevent the children from
rushing out too hastily on the slippery ice.

"Not so quick, children," he cried. "You can't fly over the snow like
lapwings."

A boy of about ten repeated these words to the smaller children.

"That is right, Jacques," said Simon, "begin early, for you may have
this school some day yourself!"

"Good morning, Master Simon," said one of the woodcutters, taking off
his hat, "we were just saying that we should like something warm before
we started."

"And you are right. I beg your pardon for keeping you waiting. I was
just telling the children about a battle of the Republic at Valmy."

"Take my arm, sir," cried one of the woodcutters. "That wooden leg of
yours is not very safe on the ice."

"Am I not here?" asked Jacques, in a vexed voice, "can I not look out
for my father?"

Simon laughed.

"But why," he asked, "have you not asked for wine at the inn?"

"Because we heard that the little girl was ill, sir--"

"Oh! it is nothing of any consequence--there she is, as rosy and smiling
as ever."

When Simon's voice was heard, the inn awoke from its silence. A woman
appeared on the threshold holding in her arms a pretty little creature
about six years old.

The mother was a simple peasant woman, wearing a peasant's dress. She
began to fill glasses for these woodcutters, who addressed her with a
cordial good morning.

At this moment the do