When I wrote The Devil’s Pool, the first of a series of pastoral tales which I meant to bring out together under the title of Tales of a Hemp-Dresser, I had no system in view, and no design of introdu...

A la sueur de ton visaige, Tu gagnerais ta pauvre vie. Après long travail et usaige, Voicy la mort qui te convie.1 This quaint old French verse, written under one of Holbein’s pictures, is profoundly ...

I had just been looking long and sadly at Holbein’s plowman, and was walking through the fields, musing on rustic life and the destiny of the husbandman. It is certainly tragic for him to spend his da...

“Germain,” said his father-in-law one day, “you must decide about marrying again. It is almost two years now since you lost my daughter, and your eldest boy is seven years old! You are almost thirty, ...

“Yes, I have somebody in mind,” replied Father Maurice. “It is a Leonard, the widow of a Guérin. She lives at Fourche.” “I know neither the woman nor the place,” answered Germain, resigned, but growin...

Father Maurice found at his house an old neighbor who had come to talk with his wife, seeking at the same time to secure a few embers to light her fire. Mother Guillette lived in a wretched hut two gu...

The gray was young, good-looking, and strong. She carried her double burden with ease, laying back her ears and champing her bit like the high-spirited mare she was. Passing in front of the pasture, s...

“Dear me,” said Germain, after they had gone a few steps farther, “what will they think at home when they miss the little man? The family will be worried, and will be looking everywhere for him.” “You...

“Well, we must be patient, Germain,” said little Marie. “We are not badly off on this little hillock. The rain does not pierce the leaves of these big oaks, and we can light a fire, for I can feel old...

Petit-Pierre had raised his head and was looking about him with a thoughtful air. “Oh, that is the way he always does, whenever he hears the sound of eating,” said Germain. “The explosion of a cannon ...

Little Marie seemed to give no more heed to the child’s odd words than to regard them as a proof of friendship. She wrapped him up with care, stirred the fire, and as the fog resting on the neighborin...

“This time I give up,” said Germain, stamping I his foot. “We are bewitched, that is certain, and we shall not get away from here before broad day. The devil is in this place!” “Well, it’s of no use t...

And after all, when he had brushed the dust of travel from his clothes and from his horse’s harness, when he had mounted the gray, and when he had learned the road, he felt that there was no retreat a...

When they reached the village, the widow halted to allow them to catch up. She was bent upon making her entry with all her train; but Germain, denying her this pleasure, deserted Father Leonard, and a...

Germain came soon to the spot where he had passed the night on the border of the pool. The fire was smoking still. An old woman was gathering the remnants of the wood little Marie had piled there. Ger...

At the end of fifteen minutes they had left the heath behind them. They trotted along the high road, and the gray whinnied at each familiar object. Petit-Pierre told his father as much as he could und...

One day, Mother Maurice was alone in the orchard with Germain, and spoke to him kindly: “My poor son, I believe you are not well. You don’t eat as well as usual; you never laugh; you talk less and les...

At length, on Sunday morning, when mass was over, his mother-in-law asked Germain what encouragement he had had from his sweetheart since the conversation in the orchard. “Why, none at all,” answered ...

Here ends the history of Germain’s marriage as he told it to me himself, good husbandman that he is. I ask your forgiveness, kind reader, that I know not how to translate it better; for it is a real t...

Here ends the history of Germain’s marriage as he told it to me himself, good husbandman that he is. I ask your forgiveness, kind reader, that I know not how to translate it better; for it is a real t...

When all the guests were met together in the house, the doors and windows were closed with the utmost care; even the garret window was barricaded; boards and benches, logs and tables were placed behin...

Immediately the hemp-dresser drew back the wooden bolt which barred the door within. At this time it was still the only fastening known in most of the dwellings of our hamlet. The groom’s band burst i...

They mounted and returned very quickly to Belair. The feast was bountiful, and, mingled with songs and dances, it lasted until midnight. For fourteen hours the old people did not leave the table. The ...

In toil and sorrow thou shalt eat The bitter bread of poverty. After the burden and the heat, Lo! it is Death who calls for thee. ↩ This is the road, which, diverging from the principal street at the ...