It happened one day, towards the end of summer, that a party who were friends of her son's, together with some older ones of her own, had been dining at her house, and the whole party had retired after dinner, to take their coffee in an open part of the grounds which commanded the best view both of the plain and of the mountains beyond it. The former was already involved in the shades of evening, which, gradually ascending the latter, soon reached the glaciers in the distance, and converted the roseate tint with which the last beams of the departing sun had invested them into that cold, lurid hue that heralds in the approaching night. The stars now began to appear, one by one, in the clear blue sky, and led the thoughts of many, if not all, of the party from Nature up to Nature's God. Some of the younger ones, however, began to amuse themselves by counting them, as they came into view; and one or two, rather vain of their knowledge of astronomy, informed the others of their names. Suddenly Alfred exclaimed-- "I can see one which is not to be found in the lists furnished by any astronomer, and yet it is by far the most brilliant." His friends thought that he was jesting, but yet attempted to discover it in the sky. "You are all looking too high," he said, laughing, and pointed to a distant mountain, where the fire of a charcoal burner had just made its appearance. The party gazed attentively for some time, when one of the ladies said, with a sigh-- "Poor man! How much he is to be pitied, sitting all alone up there!" "Perhaps, madame, he is not so solitary as you imagine. The mountaineers of these parts seldom leave their village homes for the summer season without taking a Bible with them, so that I trust it may be said of this one, even if his solitude is not sometimes broken by a passing visit from a goatherd, that he is never quite alone, for God is always near them that fear Him." "That is a blessed thing indeed," said the lady; "but is he not in danger from the wolves?" "No, madame. First of all, the wolves are not so numerous about here as many persons think; and, even where they are more abundant, there are few, at this season, so pressed by hunger as to have the courage to attack a man; and besides, the fire itself would keep them at a distance. They have an instinctive dread of it." "So far so good, Mr. Alfred. Still, if I were in the place of this man, I should not be quite at ease. I should every moment be expecting the approach of robbers." "Robbers, madame, are very considerate people. They do not like to lose either their time or their labour. Now, what could they find worth stealing from this poor charcoal burner?" "What? Why, his money, to be sure!" "His money? If he happens to have any. He does not carry it with him into the forest, where he has no use for it, but leaves it at home with his wife." "A very good husband! But his watch?"