ON THE MAMMALIA OF THIS DISTRICT. 189 



ilemen farmed on the peasant at so much rye per 

 year. Eight of our party just filled up the floor. 

 Our bed, as usual, was dry hay, and we turned in 

 like troopers' horses, all standing, so closely packed 

 together that we could hardly turn ourselves, but 

 must sleep as we pitched. As I lay on my back I 

 curiously watched the household preparing for bed. 

 The man and wife occupied a niche in the wall, 

 and the two men servants another on the same 

 side. The children filled a small cot, and the two 

 girls crept into a box (it could hardly be called a 

 bed) in size and shape much resembling a coffin. 

 I could not exactly make out where the shoemakrr 

 got to. However, all seemed comfortable enough, 

 except the old gentleman, who sat on a bench 

 smoking his pipe, and refused to move for any one 

 till we were all down. Whether or not he 1 

 been turned out of his bed, or where he would 

 pitch, was a mystery to me. At first I thought 

 he meant creeping into the oven ; however, as 

 soon as we were quiet, he just curled himself up 

 like a dog on the hearthstone, close into the 

 burning ashes, and seemed to sleep as well as any 

 of us. There were thus eighteen of us stowed 

 a\vay in a cabin about ten yards long by six wide. 

 Tired as I was, it was impossible to sleep, for 

 every sleeper seemed to snore in a different key ; 

 so, as the moon had risen and the night was calm, 



