ZZZ - The podcast that helps you sleep

Welcome to today's triple Z..... The triple Z podcast is a daily program that you can use to help you fall asleep each night. Just turn down the volume, lay back, relax, and enjoy as you fall asleep.
"Heidi" is a classic novel written by Swiss author Johanna Spyri. It was originally published in 1881 in two parts: "Heidi's Years of Learning and Travel" ("Heidis Lehr- und Wanderjahre") and "Heidi Makes Use of What She Has Learned" ("Heidi kann brauchen, was es gelernt hat"). The story has since become one of the most well-loved and enduring children's books, captivating readers of all ages with its heartwarming narrative and picturesque portrayal of the Swiss Alps.

The novel tells the story of Heidi, a young orphaned girl who is sent to live with her reclusive grandfather in the Swiss Alps. Her grandfather, who is initially gruff and distant, gradually warms up to her and they form a deep bond. Heidi's innocence, kindness, and love for the mountains begin to transform the lives of those around her, including her grandfather and a young disabled girl named Clara, whom she befriends in Frankfurt.
If you enjoy our program, please be sure To write us a review On your podcast platform, and share us with a friend, you both might sleep just a little better at night. Our website Is triple Z, that's three Z's dot media. You can also like and share our content on facebook or our instargram account Z Z Z Media podcast. Music for today's episode was provided by the Sleep Channel on spotify.
CHAPTER IX
MR. SESEMANN TAKES HEIDI'S PART

A few days after these events there was great commotion and much running up and down stairs in Mr. Sesemann's house. The master had just returned, and Sebastian and Tinette were busy carrying up one package after another from the carriage, for Mr. Sesemann always brought back a lot of pretty things for his home. He himself had not waited to do anything before going in to see his daughter. Heidi was sitting beside her, for it was late afternoon, when the two were always together. Father and daughter greeted each other with warm affection, for they were deeply attached to one another. Then he held out his hand to Heidi, who had stolen away into the corner, and said kindly to her, "And this is our little Swiss girl; come and shake hands with me! That's right! Now, tell me, are Clara and you good friends with one another, or do you get angry and quarrel, and then cry and make it up, and then start quarrelling again on the next occasion?"
"No, Clara is always kind to me," answered Heidi.
"And Heidi," put in Clara quickly, "has not once tried to quarrel."
"That's all right, I am glad to hear it," said her father, as he rose from his chair. "But you must excuse me, Clara, for I have had nothing to eat all day. Afterwards I will show you all the things I have brought home with me."
He found Miss Rottermeyer in the dining-room and when he had taken his place she sat down opposite to him, looking so gloomy that he turned to her and said, "What is the matter?"
"Mr. Sesemann," began the lady in a solemn voice, "we have been frightfully imposed upon."
"Indeed, in what way?" asked Mr. Sesemann as he went on calmly drinking his wine.
"Well, I supposed I was getting a well-behaved and nicely brought up little Swiss girl for Clara's companion but I have been shockingly, disgracefully imposed upon."
"But how? what is there shocking and disgraceful? I see nothing shocking in the child," remarked Mr. Sesemann quietly.
"If you only knew the kind of people and animals she has brought into the house during your absence! The tutor can tell you more about that."
"Animals? what am I to understand by animals, Miss Rottermeyer?"
"It is past understanding; the whole behavior of the child would be past understanding, if it were not that at times she is evidently not in her right mind."
At that moment the door opened and the tutor was announced. "Ah! here is some one," exclaimed Mr. Sesemann, "who will help to clear up matters for me. Take a seat," he continued, as he held out his hand to the tutor. "And now tell me, what is the matter with this child that has come to be a companion to my daughter?"
The tutor started in his usual style. "If I must give my opinion about this little girl, I should like first to state that, if on one side, there is a lack of development which has been caused by the more or less careless way in which she has been brought up-"
"My good friend," interrupted Mr. Sesemann, "you are giving yourself more trouble than you need. I only want to know what your opinion is as to her being a fit companion or not for my daughter?"
"I should not like in any way to prejudice you against her," began the tutor once more; "for if on the one hand there is a certain inexperience of the ways of society, owing to the uncivilized life she led up to the time of her removal to Frankfurt, on the other hand she is endowed with certain good qualities, and, taken on the whole-"
"Excuse me, my dear sir, do not disturb yourself, but I must--I think my daughter will be wanting me," and with that Mr. Sesemann quickly left the room and went into the study to talk to Clara.
"And now, my dear," he said, drawing his chair nearer and laying her hand in his, "what kind of animals has your little companion brought into the house, and why does Miss Rottermeyer think that she is not always in her right mind?"
Clara had no difficulty in answering. She told her father everything about the tortoise and the kittens, and explained to him what Heidi had said the day Miss Rottermeyer had been put in such a fright. Mr. Sesemann laughed heartily at her recital. "So you do not want me to send the child home again," he asked, "you are not tired of having her here?"
"Oh, no, no," Clara exclaimed, "please do not send her away. Time has passed much more quickly since Heidi has been here, for something fresh happens every day, and it used to be so dull, and she has always so much to tell me."

That evening when Mr. Sesemann and Miss Rottermeyer were alone, settling the household affairs, he informed her that he intended to keep Heidi, for his daughter liked her as a companion. "I desire," he continued, "that the child shall be in every way kindly treated, and that her peculiarities shall not be looked upon as crimes. If you find her too much for you alone, I can hold out a prospect of help for I am expecting my mother here on a long visit, and she, as you know, can get along with anybody, whatever they may be like."
"O yes, I know," replied Miss Rottermeyer, but there was no tone of relief in her voice as she thought of the coming help.
Mr. Sesemann was only home for a short time; he left for Paris again before the fortnight was over, comforting Clara with the prospect of her grandmother's arrival, which was to take place in a few days' time. Clara talked so much about her grandmother that Heidi began also to call her "grandmamma," which brought forth a look of displeasure from Miss Rottermeyer. As she was going to her room that night, Miss Rottermeyer waylaid her, and gave her strict orders not to call Mrs. Sesemann "grandmamma," but always to say "madam."

CHAPTER X
CLARA'S LOVABLE GRANDMOTHER

There was much expectation and preparation about the house on the following evening, for Grandmother Sesemann was coming. Tinette had a new white cap on her head, and Sebastian collected all the footstools he could find and placed them in convenient spots, so that the lady might find one ready to her feet whenever she chose to sit.
At last the carriage came driving up to the door, and Tinette and Sebastian ran down the steps, followed by the housekeeper, who advanced to greet the guest. Heidi had been sent up to her room and ordered to remain there until called down, as the grandmother would certainly like to see Clara alone first. Heidi sat herself down in a corner and repeated her instructions over to herself. She had not to wait long before Tinette put her head in and said abruptly, "Go downstairs into the study."
Heidi had not dared to ask Miss Rottermeyer again how she was to address the grandmother: she thought the lady had perhaps made a mistake, for she had never heard any one called by other than their right name. As she opened the study door she heard a kind voice say, "Ah, here comes the child! Come along and let me have a good look at you."
Heidi walked up to her and said very distinctly in her clear voice, "Good-evening, Mrs. Madam."
"Well!" said the grandmother laughing, "is that how they address people in your home on the mountain?"
"No," replied Heidi gravely, "I never knew any one with that name before."
"Nor I either," laughed the grandmother again as she patted Heidi's cheek. "Never mind! when I am with the children I am always grandmamma; you won't forget that name, will you?"
"No, no," Heidi assured her, "I often used to say it at home."
"I understand," said the grandmother, with a cheerful little nod of the head. Then she looked more closely at Heidi, and the child looked back at her with steady, serious eyes, for there was something kind and warm-hearted about this newcomer that pleased Heidi, and indeed everything about the grandmother attracted her. She had such beautiful white hair, and two long lace ends hung down from the cap on her head and waved gently about her face every time she moved, as if a soft breeze were blowing round her, which gave Heidi a peculiar feeling of pleasure.
"And what is your name, child?" the grandmother now asked.
"I am always called Heidi; but as I am now to be called Adelaide, I will try and take care-" Heidi stopped short, for Miss Rottermeyer was at this moment entering the room.
"Mrs. Sesemann will no doubt agree with me," she interrupted, "that it was necessary to choose a name that could be pronounced easily, if only for the sake of the servants."
"My worthy Rottermeyer," replied Mrs. Sesemann, "if a person is called 'Heidi' and has grown accustomed to that name, I call her by the same, and so let it be."
Miss Rottermeyer was always very much annoyed that the old lady continually addressed her by her surname only; but it was no use minding, for the grandmother always went her own way, and so there was no help for it. Moreover, the grandmother was a keen old lady, and had all her five wits about her, and she knew what was going on in the house as soon as she entered it.
When on the following day Clara lay down as usual on her couch after dinner, the grandmother sat down beside her for a few minutes and closed her eyes, then she got up again as lively as ever, and trotted off into the dining-room. No one was there. "Heidi is asleep, I suppose," she said to herself, and then going up to Miss Rottermeyer's room she gave a loud knock at the door. She waited a few minutes and then Miss Rottermeyer opened the door and drew back in surprise at this unexpected visit.

"Where is the child, and what is she doing all this time?" said Mrs. Sesemann.
"She is sitting in her room, where she could well employ herself if she had the least idea of making herself useful; but you have no idea, Mrs. Sesemann, of the out-of-the-way things this child imagines and does."
"I should do the same if I had to sit in there like that child, I can tell you; go bring her to my room; I have some pretty books with me that I should like to give her."
"That is just the misfortune," said Miss Rottermeyer with a despairing gesture, "what use are books to her? She has not been able to learn her A B C's even, all the long time she has been here; it is quite impossible to get the least idea of them into her head, and that the tutor himself will tell you; if he had not the patience of an angel he would have given up teaching her long ago."
"That is very strange," said Mrs. Sesemann, "she does not look to me like a child who would be unable to learn her alphabet."
Heidi now appeared and gazed with open-eyed delight and wonder at the beautiful colored pictures in the books which the grandmother gave her to look at. All of a sudden the child gave a start and burst into sobs, for she had turned to a picture of a green pasture, full of young animals, some grazing and others nibbling at the shrubs. In the middle was a shepherd leaning upon his staff and looking on at his happy flock.
The grandmother laid her hand kindly on Heidi's. "Don't cry, dear child, don't cry," she said, "the picture has reminded you perhaps of something. But see, there is a beautiful tale to the picture which I will tell you this evening. And there are other nice tales of all kinds to read and to tell again. But now we must have a little talk together, so dry your tears and come and stand in front of me and tell me how you are getting on in your school-time; do you like your lessons, and have you learnt a great deal?"
"O no!" replied Heidi sighing, "but I knew beforehand that it was not possible to learn."
"What is it you think impossible to learn?"
"Why, to read, it is too difficult."
"You don't say so! and who told you that?"
"Peter told me, and he knew all about it, for he had tried and tried and could not learn it."
"Peter must be a very odd boy then! But listen, Heidi, you must not always go by what Peter says. You must believe what I tell you--and I tell you that you can learn to read in a very little while, as many other children do, who are made like you and not like Peter. As soon as you are able to read you shall have that book for your own."
Heidi had listened with eager attention to the grandmother's words and now with a sigh exclaimed, "Oh, if only I could read now!"
"It won't take you long now to learn, that I can see; and now we must go down to Clara; bring the books with you." And hand in hand the two returned to the study.
Chapter: 11
Since the day when Heidi had so longed to go home, and Miss Rottermeyer had met her and scolded her on the steps, and told her how wicked and ungrateful she was to try and run away, a change had come over the child. She at last understood that she could not go home when she wished as Dete had told her, but that she would have to stay on in Frankfurt for a long, long time, perhaps for ever. The weight of trouble on the little heart grew heavier and heavier; she could no longer eat her food, and every day she grew a little paler. She lay awake for long hours at night, for as soon as she was alone and everything was still around her, the picture of the mountain with its sunshine and flowers rose vividly before her eyes; and when at last she fell asleep it was to dream of the rocks and the snow-field turning crimson in the evening light, and waking in the morning she would think herself back at the hut and prepare to run joyfully out into the sun--and then--there was her large bed, and here she was in Frankfurt far, far away from home. And Heidi would often lay her face down on the pillow and weep long and quietly so that no one might hear her.
Her unhappiness did not escape the grandmother's notice. One day she called her into her room, and said, "Now tell me, Heidi, what is the matter; are you in trouble?"
But Heidi, afraid if she told the truth that the grandmother would think her ungrateful, and would then leave off being so kind to her, answered, "I can't tell you."
"Well, could you tell Clara about it?"
"Oh no, I cannot tell any one," said Heidi in so positive a tone, and with a look of such trouble on her face, that the grandmother felt full of pity for the child.
"Then, dear child, let me tell you what to do: you know that when we are in great trouble, and cannot speak about it to anybody, we must turn to God and pray Him to help. You say your prayers every evening do you not?"
"No, I never say any prayers," answered Heidi.
"Have you never been taught to pray, Heidi; do you not know even what it means?"

"I used to say prayers with the first grandmother, but that is a long time ago, and I have forgotten them."
"That is the reason, Heidi, that you are so unhappy, because you know no one who can help you. Think what a comfort it is to be able to tell everything to God, and pray Him for the help that no one else can give us. And He can aid us and give us everything that will make us happy again."
A sudden gleam of joy came into Heidi's eyes. "May I tell Him everything, everything?"
"Yes, everything, Heidi, everything."
Heidi drew her hand away, which the grandmother was holding affectionately between her own, and said quickly, "May I go?"
"Yes, of course," was the answer, and Heidi ran out of the room into her own, and sitting herself on a stool, folded her hands together and told God about everything that was making her so sad and unhappy, and begged Him earnestly to help her and to let her go home to her grandfather.
It was about a week after this that the tutor informed Mrs. Sesemann that Heidi had really learnt to read at last.

"It is indeed truly marvelous," he said, "because she never seemed able to even learn her A B C's before. I had made up my mind to make no further attempts at the impossible, but to put the letters as they were before her without any dissertation on their origin and meaning. Now she has learnt her letters and started at once to read correctly, quite unlike most beginners."
That same evening Heidi found the large book with the pictures, lying on her plate when she took her place at table, and when she looked questioningly at the grandmother, the latter nodded kindly to her and said, "Yes, it's yours now."
"Mine, to keep always? even when I go home?" said Heidi, blushing with pleasure.
"Yes, of course, yours for ever," the grandmother assured her. "Tomorrow we will begin to read it."
"But you are not going home yet, Heidi, not for years," put in Clara. "When grandmother goes away, I shall want you to stay on with me."
When Heidi went to her room that night she had another look at her book before going to bed, and from that day forth her chief pleasure was to read over and over again, the tales which belonged to the beautiful pictures.

CHAPTER XI
HOME-SICKNESS

Every afternoon when Clara was resting after dinner, the grandmother would take Heidi to her own room where she had a lot of pretty dolls, and she showed her how to make dresses and aprons for them, so that the child learned how to sew and to make all sorts of beautiful clothes for the little people. And then grandmother liked to hear her read aloud, and the oftener Heidi read her tales the fonder she grew of them. But still she never looked really happy, and her eyes were no longer bright.
It was the last week of the grandmother's visit. She called Heidi into her room as usual one day after dinner, and the child came with her book under her arm. The old lady laid the book aside, and said, "Now, my dear, tell me why you are not happy? Have you still the same trouble at heart?"
Heidi nodded in reply.
"Have you told God about it?"
"Yes."
"And do you pray every day that He will make things right and that you may be happy again?"
"No, I have left off praying."
"Do not tell me that, Heidi! Why have you left off praying?"

"It is of no use, God does not listen," Heidi went on in an agitated voice, "and I can understand that when there are so many, many people in Frankfurt praying to Him every evening that He cannot attend to them all, and He certainly has not heard what I said to Him."
"And why are you so sure of that, Heidi?"
"Because I have prayed for the same thing every day for weeks, and yet God has not done what I asked."
"You are wrong, Heidi; you must not think of Him like that. God is a good father to us all, and knows better than we do what is good for us. He did not think what you have been praying for was good for you just now; but be sure He heard you, for He can hear and see every one at the same time, because He is a God and not a human being like you and me. While God is watching over you, and looking to see if you will trust Him and go on praying to Him every day, you run away and leave off saying your prayers, and forget all about Him. You would not like to grieve God, would you, Heidi, when He only wants to be kind to you? So will you not go and ask Him to forgive you, and continue to pray and to trust Him, for you may be sure that He will make everything right and happy for you, and then you will be glad and lighthearted again."
Heidi had perfect confidence in the grandmother, and every word she said sank into her heart.
"I will go at once and ask God to forgive me, and I will never forget Him again," she replied repentantly.
And she ran away and prayed that she might always remember God, and that He would go on thinking about her.

The day came for grandmother's departure--a sad one for Clara and Heidi. But the grandmother was determined to make it as much like a holiday as possible and not to let them mope, and she kept them so lively and amused that they had no time to think about their sorrow at her going until she really drove away. Then the house seemed so silent and empty that Heidi and Clara did not know what to do with themselves, and sat during the remainder of the day like two lost children.
Many weeks passed away. Heidi did not know if it was winter or summer, for the walls and windows she looked out upon showed no change, and she never went beyond the house except on rare occasions when Clara was well enough to drive out, and then they only went a very little way, as Clara could not bear the movement for long. On these occasions they generally only saw more fine streets and large houses and crowds of people; they seldom got anywhere beyond them, and grass and flowers, fir trees and mountains, were still far away. Heidi's longing for the old familiar and beautiful things grew daily stronger, so that now only to read a word that recalled them to her remembrance brought her to the verge of tears, which she suppressed with difficulty. So the autumn and winter passed, and again the sun came shining down on the white walls of the opposite houses, and Heidi would think to herself that now the time had come for Peter to go out again with the goats, to where the golden flowers of the cistus were glowing in the sunlight, and all the rocks around turned to fire at sunset. She would go and sit in a corner of her lonely room and put her hands up to her eyes that she might not see the sun shining on the opposite wall; and then she would remain without moving, battling silently with her terrible home-sickness until Clara sent for her again.