on a milk-and-cheese diet, which we call by a
general name, laitage, having often nothing else
to drink by way of a change but water from the
spring. We spend our time in grazing our herds
and in making those large and handsome cheeses
which are known as Gruyère.

Every herdsman has, up in the mountain, a
chalet, which is a wretched place for human
habitation, although mostly built of stone. It
is roofed with small deal planks called bardeaux;
heavy stones, 'laid in rows upon them, press
them down, and prevent the storms from
stripping them off. The interior of a chalet is divided
into three apartments; a well-closed stable or
cow-house, to lodge the cattle at night; a
narrow and cool dairy, where the milk is kept in
broad wooden bowls; and a kitchen, which also
serves as a bedroom, where the herdsman not
unfrequently sleeps on a bed of straw. The
kitchen is furnished with a vast chimney, in
which hangs an enormous caldron, for warming
the milk and helping to convert it into cheese.
As the chalet is our residence the whole
summer long, we are obliged to store it with many
little articles of necessity, to save having to go
down to the valley to fetch them when wanted
unexpectedly.

Our season hardly finishes before St. Denis's-day,
the 9th of October. We then quit the
mountain, again making a holiday, delighted to
return to our families. But we do not lead an
idle life in the village, any more than we did at
the chalet. We are accustomed to depend upon
ourselves, and are obliged to turn our hands to
everything. We make household utensils, tools,
and furniture; we carve wood into fancy
articles, which are afterwards dispersed all over
Europe. But, what is of the greatest
importance, the winter allows us spare time for our
education. If the path to the school is not
always open, the children are made to learn
their lessons at home. The art of writing is
not forgotten; and by reading aloud, we amuse
and instruct others as well as ourselves. It was
a good thing for me that I was so brought up.
If I had not had these resources in my trouble,
I know not what would have become of me.
One thing at least is clear: the journal which
follows could not have existed. Although only
a Swiss country-lad, I have been able to write
some sort of a history. Here it is, as I was
able to note it down from day to day.

November 22.— Since it is the will of God
that I and my grandfather should be imprisoned
in this chalet, I intend to record in writing what
happened to us. If we are destined to perish
here, our relations and friends will learn how
our last days were spent; if we are delivered,
this journal will preserve the recollection of
our dangers and our sufferings. It is also my
grandfather's wish that I should undertake it.

The day before yesterday, in the village, we
had been expecting my father for several weeks
past. St. Denis's-day was over; all the herds
had come down from the mountain together
with their keepers. My father alone failed to
make his appearance, and we began to ask,
"What can possibly detain him?" I lost my
mother three years ago; but my uncles and
aunts assured me that I need not make myself
uneasy; that probably there remained some
grass to be eaten, and that was why my father
kept the herd a little later up the mountain.

At last, my grandfather became alarmed. He
said, " I will go myself and see why François
does not come. I shall not be sorry to see the
chalet once more. Who knows whether I shall
be able to visit it next summer? Will you like
to come with me?"

It was the very request I was going to make;
for, as I have no mother, we are almost always
together. We were soon ready to start. We
mounted slowly, sometimes following narrow
gorges, sometimes skirting the brink of deep
precipices. About a quarter of a league before
we came to the chalet, I was attracted by
curiosity to the edge of a very steep rock. My
grandfather, who had told me more than once
that he did not like my doing so, hastened
forward to pull me back; but a large stone, rolling
backwards as he stepped upon it, caused him to
sprain his foot, and put him to considerable
pain. But in a few minutes he felt better, and
we hoped that no bad consequences would ensue.
With the help of his stout holly stick, and by
leaning on my shoulder, he was able to drag
himself as far as this place.

My father was greatly surprised to see us.
He was busy preparing for his departure; so
that if we had quietly waited at home one day
longer, his arrival would have put an end to our
uneasiness. That very same evening, Pierre
was to set off with the remainder of the cheeses.

After a short repose, my grandfather asked
me, " Are you very tired, Louis?" The
manner in which he made the inquiry seemed to
betray some secret intention, and I did not give a
very decided answer. "I was thinking," he
added, "that it might be prudent to send on
the boy with Pierre. The wind has changed
during the last half-hour, and may perhaps bring
us bad weather in the course of the night."

My father expressed the same fear, and urged
me to follow that counsel.

"I had much rather wait for you," I said.
"Grandfather, with his lame foot, stands in
great need of a good night's rest."

There hung over the lire a boiler which I
regarded with greedy eyes. My father understood
the signal, and served us some soup made of
maize-flour and milk, which we ate, like soldiers,
all out of one bowl. It was agreed that we
should all go down together next day, which
was yesterday. After which, I went to bed and
fell asleep, without paying much attention to
what was said by my father and grandfather,
who had a long conversation in an under tone
after their supper.

Next morning I was quite surprised to see
the mountain all covered with white. The snow
was still falling with unusual heaviness, being
driven by a violent wind. I should have been
highly amused, had I not remarked my relations'
anxiety. I was very uneasy myself, when I saw