off--it don't matter where--a poor
wood-chopper whose name was--let's see--well, we will call him Bertram.
It wasn't the fashion to have two names in those days, you know; people
couldn't afford it. He had a son, whose name was Rudolph, and a daughter,
Theresa. The boy was twelve and the girl was eleven years old. The
wood-chopper earned but a scanty subsistence--that means an awfully poor
living, I believe--and the children soon learned to help him. Rudolph and
Theresa were hard-working and cheerful, and as they had never been rich,
they did not know what it was to be poor. That is, they thought they had
plenty, because they never had any more; and had no time to sit down and
see how nice it would be to have a fine house, and be drawn in an elegant
carriage. But one day a tree fell on poor Bertram, and he was carried
home with a broken arm and leg. I suppose if he had been rich enough to
send for a great surgeon that lived in the city, only two leagues away,
he would have recovered without much trouble, but poor men have to do
without such attentions, and so Bertram's arm and leg, which were fixed
by a country "bone-setter," were so crooked that he could not work. And
now the burden fell heavily on the wife, who had to gather berries and
nuts in the forests, which she loaded on the donkey, and carried away to
the city to sell. But the poor woman was never very strong, and this
extra tax was fast breaking her down.

The children did what they could, but it was not much. After working hard
all day, they amused themselves in the evening by manufacturing little
articles out of nutshells. Rudolph had a sharp knife which had been given
him for showing a gentleman the way out of the forest. But the
circumstances of the family had become so distressing that they had given
up their evening employments, creeping sadly away to bed after a frugal
supper.

One day, as they were gathering nuts in the forest, Rudolph said,
"Sister, I fear that mother is breaking down. What can we do to help her?
The winter is coming on, and times will be harder than ever."

"I'll tell you what, Rudolph," answered Theresa; "why can't we do
something with your little nut-baskets and nut-boats? I've heard say that
the little city children, who wear fine clothes and have plenty of money,
are very fond of such things. Let us send all you have by mother
to-morrow."

And so on the next morning the mother's basket took the whole stock. When
evening came