# The Story teller (1850)/The Soldier's Wife

THE SOLDIER'S WIFE.
Walden was playing on his flute in a slow and pensive strain, when the mournful cries of a child, and the complaining voice of a woman, struck his ears. "Oh, merciful God!" exclaimed the poor creature, "hear with compassion the moans of my unhappy babe!"
​Walden ceased to play, and looking over the hedge, he surveyed the child with compassion, as the woman lay on the grass to rest herself. He asked her in a soft voice, why the poor infant cried.
"He is hungry," replied the woman, weeping bitterly, "we have not had any thing to cat since yesterday morning."
"Gracious God! since yesterday morning! wait here a few minutes, and I will return."
He flew away with incredible swiftness, and re-appeared in a short time, with a bowl of milk and a small loaf, towards which the child stretched out his little arms, and the woman to whom he delivered them began to feed it.
"Sit down my good woman, and eat of it yourself," said Walden, "I will take care of your infant." Placing himself on the grass beside it, he dipped a bit of the loaf in the milk, and patiently assisted his little famished charge.
The child looked up in his face and smiled. Walden, pleased and affected at this intuitive mark of gratitude, kissed its little forehead.
"What is your occupation?" he asked the woman, who was eating with avidity; "you are, I suppose, the mother of this little creature: where do you live?"
"No, it is not my own," replied she, "and I do not know its parents. I am the wife of a poor soldier, my worthy sir, and I have travelled from beyond Berlin a great way; my husband had been away from me three years, and I wanted to see him again—for I loved him dearly. My own two little children I left with their grandmother, and I sold every thing I did not absolutely want at home, that I might carry him a little trifle of money. Accordingly I set out, and got to the end of my journey just as my husband had marched with his corps to drive a party of Austrians from some little village; so when it was all over, and they had done what they had been ordered, I ran to the place to meet him."
Here the poor woman burst into tears. "And when I got there he was dying of his wounds; yet he knew me, and stretched out his hand, saying, 'Oh, Annette! our children.' These were his last words. I thought I should have died too, but God willed, for the sake of our little ones and this babe, that I should live. In the same house where my poor husband expired, was the wife of an Austrian soldier, who died two days afterwards, and left this babe, which nobody on earth seemed to take care about. Almost all the village had been burned down, and all the inhabitants had run away; so that when our soldiers marched, I begged them to take the poor child with them; but then they said to me, 'What could we ​do with it?' and that was very true; but to let the child stay, and die with hunger, was impossible; so I resolved to take it, let what would happen; and I set out to return to my own home, with the babe in my arms. On my way I was weary enough; but I never met with any body that took compassion on me or my burden, so I walked on; but I fell sick, as you may see by my looks, and spent the little money I had left, and then I sold my elothes and every thing I could spare. All went except these poor rags; yet still I thought if I could but get home I should do very well. I am used to hard work, and I could even do for this little ereature, who has nobody in the world but me to put a morsel of bread into its poor mouth; so I can't bear to let it starve."
As she said this, she pressed the child to her bosom, and her tears dropped upon it, whilst she repeated, "if I was but able to work, or I could but get enough to keep it till I reach my home."
"Poor babe!" said Walden, "poor, yet happy creature, who, in losing her who gave thee birth, found a second mother! eyes that dropt tears of pity on thy lot, and a heart that loves thee! No, thou shall not from hard necessity be deserted!"
Walden then wrote upon a leaf of his poeket-book the name of the woman, and that of the village where she informed him she lived with her family; and giving her a small sum of money, promised that he would remit the same to her every year.
The woman, on holding the gold in her hand, whieh had never contained so much before, exelaimed, "Oh! this is too mueh, worthy sir and being desired to keep it, she added, "we shall now be rich, indeed; my own little ones, and this one, and their grandmother, we shall all be rich!"
"Good ereature!" exclaimed Walden with emotion, "you are rich, indeed, in a heart to which all other riches are dross! your humanity to this orphan will be better rewarded; but if this were my last erown you should have it. Hasten away, or I may be tempted to take the ehild, to have the pleasure of bringing it up, that it may love me as it will you." On hearing this, the woman hastily pressed the infant to her bosom, and giving Walden a farewell benedietion, pursued her journey with alacrity.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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