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Updated: June 16, 2025
At last we reached the shoulder, from whence I had a peep that made me long for more, but, determined not to spoil the effect, I pushed resolutely on after my guide through a low scrubby jungle, along a barely perceptible woodcutter's path, until the crisp snow crunching beneath our feet betokened our great elevation.
"Oh, there is a poor woodcutter's family at the top; they do travel up and down occasionally." "It is pretty," I said. "It is pretty at the top; but we are a long way from that. Is it too rough for you?" "Not at all," I said. "I like it." "You are a good walker, for a Southern girl." "Oh, but I have lived at the North," I said; "I am only Southern born." Soon, however, he made me stop to rest.
They confessed to each other that it was all as sweet and beautiful as it used to be; and in fact they had seen palaces, in other days, which did not give them the pleasure they found in a woodcutter's shanty, losing itself among the shadows in a solitude of the hills.
And so the lads set to work, and in amongst the trees close by they soon found a large dead branch, and laid it down across the first soft place, and they very soon would have had a firm pathway to the moorhen's nest, but for the simple reason that they were not provided with woodcutter's axes, ropes, etc; the consequence was, that they could find no more wood fit for the purpose, and Harry's corduroy-road was composed only of one cord.
Bobbsey and Nan were taken home by some friends who happened to pass the lake in their automobile, and half-way to the woodcutter's cabin, though he had no idea the children had been there, Mr. Bobbsey and Bert met them being driven to Lakeport by Uncle Jack. "Oh, there's Daddy!" cried Freddie. "And Bert!" added Flossie, as she saw her brother. "Your ice-boat's all right," she added.
It bore the Swiss postmark, and opening it and turning to the signature I sat wondering for the moment where I had met "Horatio Jones." And then I remembered. He was lying bruised and broken in a woodcutter's hut on the slopes of the Jungfrau. Had been playing a fool's trick, so he described it, thinking he could climb mountains at his age.
He had always entertained a great dread of the count, who, from common report, was looked upon as a cruel tyrant. The count's first care on reaching the castle was to send a servant with a livery in which the groom might return home, directing him in the same package to bring back the old woodcutter's clothes.
"My pain is in my bones and back; peppermint isn't much good for that. I guess I need to go to a hospital. But never mind me, I must look after you children now." Along through the snow jogged the woodcutter's horse, his bells jingling as he hauled the sled over the road that led along the shore of the lake. "What'll we do about Bert's ice-boat?" asked Flossie.
The Papacy has its root in Heaven, not in the country. It is not the Italian people who ask for a Pope, it is Heaven that chooses him, the Sacred College that nominates him, diplomacy that maintains him, and the French army that imposes him upon the nation. The Sovereign Pontiff and his staff constitute a foreign body, introduced into Italy like a thorn into a woodcutter's foot.
The woodcutter's lost child, the unhappy goose girl, the persecuted stepdaughter, the little maiden imprisoned in the witch's hut all these were but transparent disguises for Lena, the overworked kitchenmaid in the Quarrymen's Hotel. And always when the extremity was direst came the good fairy or the gallant prince to the rescue.
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