The old woman owned a miner's lamp consisting of two connected cylinders; water, dripping from the top cylinder on pieces of calcium carbide, created acetylene gas which escaped with a hiss through a minuscule hole and, when lit, gave off a pale light. The danger of an explosion, and the cost of carbide, kept its use to a minimum.

The old crone, not relishing the idea of our telling anyone of our miserable condition, controlled our writing although she was illiterate. She did, however, have the cleverness to have us reread our writings to her, and she remembered every single word of her dictations, invariably thus: "I take a short break from my chores to tell you I am well and hope the same is true for you, etc."

She must have learned this turn of phrase from her children, who did learn the three R's.

The most important problems were the constant hunger pangs, as she fed us whatever was available—chestnuts in season, potatoes and wheat cooked in goat's milk whey. In the Spring, we once ate kid's meat; sometimes we were given a piece of black chestnut bread. Mushrooms were plentiful in the nearby woods and, fried in oil with garlic, replaced meat. Goat cheeses were bartered with the town baker's wife for an occasional bottle of olive oil.

A goat

The two cows, being draft animals, gave no milk. Occasionally we "liberated" a goat cheese from the wooden chest in her bedroom; it was delicious and filling, but this meager fare did not stick to the ribs of two growing boys.