Martinsburg gazette. [volume] (Martinsburg, Va. [W. Va.]) 1833-1855, 1847-07-15
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THE MOTHER AND CHILD;
OR, THE FREELY.
FROM THE GERMAN.

On the evening of hot and sultry summer
day, Maria, a poor widow, sat at the open
window of her little chamber, and gazed out
upon the neat orchard which surrounded her
cottage. The grass had been mowE in the
morning, but the heat of the sun had soon
dried it. She had already gathered it into
heaps, and the sweet smell of the hay now
blew into the chamber, as if TO refresh and
strengthen her after labor The glow of sun
set was already fading upon the border of the
clear and cloudless sky, and the moon shone
calm and bright into the little chamber,
shadowing the square panes of the half open
window, together with grape vine, which
adorned it, upon the nicely sanded floor
Little Ferdinand, boy of six years of age,
stood leaning against the window frame his
blooming face and yellow locks, with por
ton of white clean shirt sleeves, and scarlet
vest, were distinctly visible in the moonlight
The poor women was sitting thus to rest
herself, perhaps. But oppressive as had been
the labor of the saltry day, yet heavier bur
den weighed upon her bosom, and rendered
her forgetfu of her WEAKNESS. She had eaten
but spoonful OF their supper, which consist
ed of bread and milk. Little Ferdinand was
also greatly disturbed, but did not speak, be-
cause he saw that his neither was so sor-
rowful. Having observed that his mother, in
stead Of eating, wept bitterly, he had laid aside
his spoon, and the earthen dish still stood up
on the table almost as full as when served up.
Maria was left a widow in the early part Of
the previous spring. Her deceased husband,
one of the worthiest young men in the village,
had, by industry and economy, saved sum
of money sufficient to purchase the little cot
tage with its neat meadow, though not entire
w free from incumbrance. The industrious
man had planted the green and cheerful field
with young trees, which had already bore the
finest fruit. He had chosen Maria, for his
wife, although she was very poor orphan.
and her parents had been able 10 give her moth.
ing more than good education he had cho-
SCH her because she was known as the most
pious, industrious and well behaved maiden in
the village. They had lived happily together
But the typhus fever broke out in the village
and her husband died. Having nursed him
with the greatest tenderness, she herself was
attacked with it, after his death, and barely es-
capped with life.
Her husbands sickness and her own had
thrown them much behind hand but now
she must even part with her cottage. Her
deceased husband had long laboured for
the richest peasant in the country, man by
the name Of Meyer. The peasant, who high
ly esteemed him, on account of his fidelity and
industry, had lent him three hundred crowns
to purchase this cottage, with the ground be-
longing to it, upon the condition that he would
pay off fifty crowns yearly, twenty five in mo-
ney and twenty five in labor. Until the year
that he was taken sick, her husband had faith
fully performed his agreement, and the debt
now amounted to but fifty crowns. Maria
knew all this very we'll
Never now died Of the same disease. The
heirs, son and daugther-in-law, found the
note for the three hundred crowns. among the
papers Of the deceased. They did not know
word about the affair, as the old man had
never seoked OF il to them. The terrified wo-
man assured them, calling heaven to witness,
that her deceased husband had paid off the
whole except fifty crowns But all this was
OF no avail. The young peasant called her a
shameless liar, and summoned her before a
court of law AS she could not prove that
any thing had been paid, 1t was decided that
the entire claim against her was valid. The
heirs insisted upon the payment, and as poor
Maria had nothing butthe cottage and grounds,
this little property must now be Sold She
| had fallen upon her knees before the heirs, and
had prayed them not to turn her out OF doors ;
little Ferdinand wept with her-both wept-
but all was in vain. The following morning
was appointed for the sale. She had heard
this an hour before, just as she had finished
her days work. A neighbor had called out
over the hedge and told it TO her.
Ii was for this reason that she now sat so
sorrowful at the open window, glancing now
upward to the clear sky, now upon Ferdinand
and then gazing steadily upon the floor. There
was sad silence.
"Alas ~ she said to herself, 81 have to-day
then, raked the hay from the orchard for the
last time. The early yellow plums, which
picked this morning for Ferdinand, is the last
fruit which the poor boy will eat from the
trees which his father planted for him. Yes,
this may be the last night which we will spend
beneath this roof. BY this time tomorrow,
this cottage will be another's property. and
who can say but we shall be turned out at
once2 Heaven alone knows where we shall
find a shelter to morrow. Perhaps, under the
onen hea'vons 2n She beoan In sob violeDtlv