One day in the month of June, 1845, Master Zacharias' fishing-basket was so full of salmon-trout, about three o'clock in the afternoon, that the good man was loath to take any more; for, as Pathfinder says: "We must leave some for to-morrow!" After having washed his in a stream and carefully covered them with field-sorrel and rowell, to keep them fresh; after having wound up his line and bathed his hands and face; a sense of drowsiness tempted him to take a nap in the heather. The heat was so excessive that he preferred to wait until the shadows lengthened before reclimbing the steep ascent of Bigelberg. Breaking his crust of bread and wetting his lips with a draught of Rikevir, he climbed down fifteen or twenty steps from the path and stretched himself on the moss-covered ground, under the shade of the pine-trees; his eyelids heavy with sleep. A thousand animate creatures had lived their long life of an hour, when the judge was wakened by the whistle of a bird, which sounded strange to him. He sat up to look around, and judge his surprise; the so-called bird was a young girl of seventeen or eighteen years of age; fresh, with rosy cheeks and vermilion lips, brown hair, which hung in two long tresses behind her. A short poppy-colored skirt, with a tightly-laced bodice, completed her costume. She was a young peasant, who was rapidly descending the sandy path down the side of Bigelberg, a basket poised on her head, and her arms a little sunburned, but plump, were gracefully resting on her hips. "Oh, what a charming bird; but she whistles well and her pretty chin, round like a peach, is sweet to look upon." Mr. Zacharias was all emotion--a rush of hot blood, which made his heart beat, as it did at twenty, coursed through his veins. Blushing, he arose to his feet. "Good-day, my pretty one!" he said. The young girl stopped short--opened her big eyes and recognized him (for who did not know the dear old Judge Zacharias in that part of the country?). "Ah!" she said, with a bright smile, "it is Mr. Zacharias Seiler!" The old man approached her--he tried to speak--but all he could do was to stammer a few unintelligible words, just like a very young man--his embarrassment was so great that he completely disconcerted the young girl. At last he managed to say: "Where are you going through the forest at this hour, my dear child?" She stretched out her hand and showed him, way at the end of the valley, a forester's house. "I am returning to my father's house, the Corporal Yeri Foerster. You know him, without doubt, Monsieur le Juge." "What, are you our brave Yeri's daughter? Ah, do I know him? A very worthy man. Then you are little Charlotte of whom he has often spoken to me when he came with his official reports?" "Yes, Monsieur; I have just come from the town and am returning home." "That is a very pretty bunch of Alpine berries you have,'" exclaimed the old man. She detached the bouquet from her belt and tendered it to him.