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 Mother Bertha' s Stories. 119 his clothes on. He enjoyed a good sleep too well to be so easily disturbed. He never had done rubbing his eyes, gaping, gasping, and asking silly questions, before he managed to extricate himself from the entangled bed-clothes and specimens of humanity in the bed, and got his trousers and jacket on, and before he could really understand what he was to do. The promise of a sixpence seemed, however, to impart some clearness to his comprehension and even dispel his fear at the thought of passing the birch-tree on the road where Ole Askerud hung himself. Whilc this was going on betvveen the white-haired Ola and old Bertha, I took a survey of the room and its contents —looms, spinning wheels, chairs, brooms, buckets and half-finished axe-handles, the hens on their perch be hind the door, the old musket under the roof, the long poles under the rafters groaning under the weight of steaming stockings, and