and utensils, we wished to know what sort of
weather it was out of doors. I went under
the chimney and looked up through the only
outlet which remained open in the chalet. In
a few minutes, the sun suddenly shone upon
the snow which rose around the opening to a
considerable height. I pointed out the
circumstance to my grandfather. We could exactly
distinguish the thickness of the layer of snow,
because the chimney does not rise outside above
the roof. In fact, there is simply a hole in the
roof, the outside chimney having been blown
down in a storm.

"If we had a ladder," my grandfather said,
"you might get up and disengage a trap which
your father lately fixed on the top of the
chimney, to keep out cold and wet, until the
outer chimney is repaired."

"Never mind the ladder," I replied. " I
saw in the stable a long fir-pole, and that is all
I want. I have often climbed up trees no
thicker than that, and the pole has still its bark
on, which makes it easier to mount."

I set to work, tying a string to my waistband,
to haul up a shovel after I got to the top. I
managed so well with feet and hands, and by
pressing against the walls of the chimney as the
Savoyards do, that I reached the roof. With
the shovel, I cleared away an open space, and
found that there was about three feet of snow
on the roof. Around the chalet it appeared to
me that there was a great deal more. In fact,
the wind had swept it up into a heap;
nevertheless, there must have fallen an enormous
mass ot snow in a very short space of time.
Everything round about the chalet is hidden
under a thick white carpet; the forest of
fir-trees, which surrounds it in the direction of the
valley, and which shuts in the prospect, is white
like the rest, with the exception of the trunks,
which appear all black. Many trees are crushed
by the weight; I saw large branches, and even
stems, that were broken into fragments. At
that moment, there blew a strong and bitter
cold wind from the north; the dark clouds which
it drove before it opened at intervals. Gleams
of sunshine flashed through the openings, and
ran over the field of snow with the swiftness of
an arrow.

The cold began to lay hold of me. When I
tried to describe to my grandfather what I saw,
lie heard that my teeth chattered. He told me
to make haste and clear the trap, and as far as I
could reach around the aperture of the chimney.
It took some time, and was hard work; but it
warmed me. Following my grandfather's
directions, I passed the string I had brought through
a pulley, in such a way that, by pulling from
below, the trap would open, while its own weight
would cause it to shut. When we had rehearsed
this little manoeuvre two or three times, to see
that it worked properly, I descended more easily
than I had mounted.

My clothes were all wet, and I had no others
to put on. We lighted a bright fire of twigs
and fir-cones; and then, lowering the trap and
leaving no more than the necessary space for

the smoke to escape, we spent the greater part
of the day by the chimney-corner, with no other
light than that from the hearth; for our stock
of oil was very small, and we clearly saw that we
must not expect to quit our prison so soon. We
did not light our lamp till it was time to milk
the goat.

We find it a very unaccustomed and
melancholy life, to have to drag through a whole day
in this dull manner. Still I think that the hours
would be less wearisome, if we were not living
in a constant state of expectation. It always
seems as if some one were on the point of coming
to rescue us. I mounted a second time upon
the roof to look whether anybody had arrived; I
incessantly questioned grandpapa. He is in
hopes, he says, that my father reached home
safely; but perhaps the roads are completely
choked by the drifted snow.

At last, after completely closing the chimney
by means of the trap, we went to bed, hoping
that somebody might come to our assistance
to-day; but this morning we find that, for the
present, the thing is almost impossible. As far
as we can observe, it must have snowed all night.
We had considerable difficulty in opening the
trap to light our fire; I found two feet of fresh
snow.

November 25. The snow continues to fall
abundantly. I have again had great difficulty
in raising the trap. We think it prudent to
clear the roof of a portion of the snow with
which it is laden. It employed a great part of
the day. I leave under my feet a layer of snow
sufficiently thick to keep out the cold, and I
throw off the rest.

It is some amusement to escape out of my
dungeon for a little while; and yet, what I do
see is very sad. The inequalities of the ground
around us are scarcely distinguishable; the whole
landscape is most forlorn. The earth is white,
the sky is black. I have read at school the
narratives of voyages in the Icy Sea and the
Polar regions; I fancy we must be transported
there. But since those wretched travellers, who
suffered so much from cold and incurred such
great dangers, have sometimes returned to their
native land, I hope that we also shall see my
father and our village again.

We are not deprived of every comfort in our
sequestered habitation. We have found more
hay and straw than Blanchette would consume
in a whole twelvemonth for food and bedding.
If she continues to yield us milk, we have in her
a valuable resource. But an accident might
deprive us of her; and we were very glad to find, in
a corner of the stable, a small stock of potatoes.
We have begun to cover them with straw, to
protect them from the frost. My father had packed
the woodstack also in the stable; but there is
not enough to carry us through a long winter.
We did right, therefore, in thinking of closing
the trap at the times when we have no urgent
need of fire; as we have reason to fear that our
fuel may run short, it is a good thing to be able
to keep out the cold. Fortunately, the snow,
which imprisons us, also shelters us. I am