The Life of Jean Henri Fabre 



mother would take from it, for each of us in turn, 

 first the broth, wherein to soak the bread, and 

 next the ration of turnips and bacon, partly fat 

 and partly lean, filling the bowl to the top. At 

 the other end of the table was the pitcher, from 

 which the thirsty were free to drink at will. What 

 appetites we had, and what festive meals those 

 were, especially when a cream-cheese, home-made, 

 was there to complete the banquet! 



Near us blazed the huge fire-place, in which 

 whole tree-trunks were consumed in the extreme 

 cold weather. From a corner of that monumental, 

 soot-glazed chimney, projected, at a convenient 

 height, a slate shelf, which served to light the 

 kitchen when we sat up late. On this we burnt 

 slips of pine-wood, selected among the most trans- 

 lucent, those containing the most resin. They shed 

 over the room a lurid red light, which saved the 

 walnut-oil in the lamp. 



When the bowls were emptied and the last 

 crumb of cheese scraped up, grandam went back 

 to her distaff, on a stool by the chimney-corner. 

 We children, boys and girls, squatting on our 

 heels and putting out our hands to the cheerful 

 fire of furze, formed a circle round her and listened 

 to her with eager ears. She told us stories, not 

 greatly varied, it is true, but still wonderful, for 

 the wolf often played a part in them. I should 

 have very much liked to see this wolf, the hero 

 of so many tales that made our flesh creep; but 

 the shepherd always refused to take me into his 

 straw hut, In the middle of the fold, at night. 

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