Directly opposite the city of Bern lies a small village beautifully situated on a hill. I cannot tell you what it is called, but I will describe it to you so that you may know it if you are ever there. On the summit of the hill there is but one house; it is surrounded by a flower garden, which meets on each side of the house the stretch of lawn at the front. This residence is called The Hill, and is the home of Colonel Ritter. A short distance down the hill, on a level stretch of ground, stands the church, with the parsonage beside it. This is where Mrs. Ritter spent her happy girlhood as the pastor's daughter. Still farther down, amid a group of houses, is the schoolhouse. On the left of these, all by itself, stands an attractive little house with a garden. In the front lawn are placed some flower beds containing roses, carnations, and mignonette. The asparagus beds at the sides of the house are screened from the front by a low raspberry hedge. The whole place presents a well-kept appearance. The road goes on down the hill to the main road that follows along the Aar River to the open country. This long, sloping hill provided excellent coasting during the winter. The distance from the top of the hill to the Aar road below made a continuous coast of about ten minutes' duration. This incomparable sledge course gave to the children of the village the greatest pleasure of the year. No sooner was school dismissed than they ran for their sleds and hurried up the hill. The hours passed like minutes, so that six o'clock, the time when they were expected at home, came much too soon. The closing scene on the hill was usually an interesting one, for they always wanted to go down once more before they broke up for the night, and then once again, and after that just one single time more, so that it might be inferred from their excited haste that their lives depended upon making as many trips as possible. They were usually governed by a wise rule that compelled them all to ride down and return in the same order, so as to avoid the possibility of collision and confusion; but the rule was occasionally disregarded, when the final excitement swayed them. This happened to be the case on a bright January night, when the intense cold made the snow crackle as it was crunched under the feet of the children, who came panting up the hill, drawing their sleds after them, their faces glowing from their exertions. The boys were shouting, "Once more! once more!" as they turned their sleds and fell into line.