ere
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 page or setting out our rows of figures.

We, the smaller ones, in addition to the comfort of studying with our
mouths full, had every now and then two other delights, which were quite
as good as cracking nuts. The back door communicated with the yard where
the hen, surrounded by her brood of chicks, scratched at the dung hill,
while the little porkers, of whom there were a dozen, wallowed in their
stone trough. This door would open sometimes to let one of us out, a
privilege which we abused, for the sly ones among us were careful not to
close it on returning. Forthwith, the porkers would come running in,
one after the other, attracted by the smell of the boiled potatoes. My
bench, the one where the youngsters sat, stood against the wall, under
the copper pail to which we used to go for water when the nuts had made
us thirsty, and wa