22 
books, what matters how the winds howl, the 
trees moan, the snow covers the face of Nature, 
and all about appears cheerless and desolate.” 
“True, my Fritz, quite true. But let us re- 
turn, we have but little of cheerfulness to show 
on our isle at this season, but wait till budding 
spring and summer’s warm breath revive our 
now desolate realm, we can then show you a 
piece of paradise. You shall see and enjoy for 
yourself then, my Fritz.” 
Returning to the hermitage we learned that 
Petro had prepared a tempting meal for us in 
the cheery dining-room. After fully satisfying 
our sharpened appetites we retired to the her- 
mit’s sanctum, where we enjoyed a restful 
smoke. Here for an hour or more the old her- 
mit entertained me with a most enjoyable ac- 
count of how he secured his fine zoological col- 
lection. He found the greater number of his 
specimens on the main-land, where, during 
pleasant weather, he spent much of his time in 
search of Nature’s objects of study. 
As evening was rapidly drawing nigh I was 
compelled, though reluctantly, to bid farewell 
to the old hermit, promising to repeat my visit 
early, and boarding my boat I was soon swiftly 
gliding down stream, homeward bound. 
Arriving again within the busy whirl of town 
life, I felt that my visit to the old hermitage 
and the day’s experiences were but a pleasant 
dream, from which I was now rudely awak- 
ened. But frequent renewals of this pleasant 
