2013年5月24日星期五
ArticleTitle#4933
the streams from above trickle and murmur as they fall down the
rocky mountain's side, looking like glittering silver bands.
On both sides of the mountain-path stand these little wooden
houses; and, as within, there are many children and many mouths to
feed, each house has its own little potato garden. These children rush
out in swarms, and surround travellers, whether on foot or in
carriages. They are all clever at making a bargain. They offer for
sale the sweetest little toy-houses, models of the mountain cottages
in Switzerland. Whether it be rain or sunshine, these crowds of
children are always to be seen with their wares.
About twenty years ago, there might be seen occasionally, standing
at a short distance from the other children, a little boy, who was
also anxious to sell his curious wares. He had an earnest,
expressive countenance, and held the box containing his carved toys
tightly with both hands, as if unwilling to part with it. His
earnest look, and being also a very little boy, made him noticed by
the strangers; so that he often sold the most, without knowing why. An
hour's walk farther up the ascent lived his grandfather, who cut and
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