Bradford reporter. [volume] (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, 1855-03-31
THE EMEGRAMT AND THE CHILD.
BY NYLEHAU.

one OF our Western railroads He wore din
gy sort OF straight brmmed cap and red waist
coat, buttoned up to the chin, which, with a
quick, uneasy glance, and shrinking air of
perpleXity, very different from the free-and-
easy, at-home-like manner of the unmistakeable
Americans around him, sufficiently bespoke for
eign birth. In fact, he seemed rather dubious
of the way in which he was going, and was con-
stantly protruding his head from the small win
dow next him, and making desperate efforts to
get it back again, raising the somewhat pain
ful doubt, as to whether it might be aecidel-
tally taken off, picked up on the road, and ad-
vertised "to be called for"
1t was hot afternoon, and the gray masses
OF dust whirled around inside the car to the
motion of the train. Gentlemen, with their
places Of destination on little yellow tickets
stuck in their hat-bands read newspapers, with
ugubrious coantenances perfectly impervious
to dust or heat. Ladies yelled out the dust,
rocked to and fro, jolted along in grim silence
Children covered with perspiration slept on
their plush seats, or consoled themselves with
sweetmeats. And the bIGckened and nexora-
bic engine in front sped fercely on, dragging
along its burden of life, separating friends and
lovers, breaking long ties Of relationship and
association, or perchance carrying some tired
wandcrer to his l0nged-for home with the same
relentless rush, whooping and tuning in the cx-
ultation of its iron strength
Stations were gained and left far behind, peo-
pie got out and went no one knows where, and
Others came and presented new faces in their
place. The sun which had gathered in bright
ness from the whole expanse of the pale blue
sky, and burst in water spout of light, gIisten-
ing on the heated rails, and concentrating on
the foreigners rusty coat, now sank glaring in
sullen red mist, aud cast flush on his counte-
nance as it found him still rushing gloomily on
with the train.
Involuntary he turned from the uncongenal
faces near him, and gazcd upon the landscape,
as If he hoped to find in it some traces of the
land he had left. But endless fields of Indian
corn and meadows thick with tree stamps, sell
dom gave him any trace of resemblance to his
fatherand.
A monotonous forest, always shutting out
the distance, sometimes closed around the
track, and sometimes opened upon little white
pert-Iooking houses, that seemed to squint at
him through their haIEclosed green blinds.
but too glaringy reminding him that he was
thousands Of miles away from happiness and
home
Everything was terribly American. There
was America in the z@-zag fence bv the road
side that wriggled past in ntermmabe contor
tlonS. There was America in the tail girdlcd
forest trees, that stood Scathad, and bare, and
blackcned with fire, in scattered groups, enclos-
ing peculiarly American loecabin, or stand
ing solitary and alone, sun-dials to mark the
progress Of civilization.
He turned away again from the uncongcnial
sight, almost sick at heart Everything sugges-
ted utter isolation, and brought it home to him.
that he was as utterly uncared for and unnotic-
ed, as the blue fly that buzzed past him in the
sunshine
As he drew back his head, his astonished
gaze fell upon the most delicate miniature of a
little hand in the world, lying softly in his own
toll worn palm. What a contrast The
amazed foreigner looked up, and met a pair of
lustrlouS black eyes, looking compassionately
into his own. The hand and eyes were parts
of the most fairy-likc little form the foreigner
had ever seen. For a moment, the mystic
poetry of the Germans character Overcame
his reason, and he met the little things gaze
with the awc-struck expression Of one who
sees a vision. The dread realities of steam
and America were banished by the child's pre-
Sence.
" Why do you look SO sorry y said she. "Are
You sick or hungry p ...... .........
So grave and serious were the little child'S
tones that the German inadvertently an
swered her as he would have done an older per-
son. .
Ny little lady" said hc in his broken En-
gliSh, " live away over der great ocean. My
home ish dare. Here old Hans ISL a poor
lonely German among der proud Nmcricans
Dis lsh der reason der sorrow iSh SO heavy on
meD ..
No old Hans, take LIME up in your lap, as
ma does when she is thinking Of dear dead pa
pa, and it will make YOU glad again, like it
does her"
And Hans did take the child into his lap
and blessed. God for the sight of her little
face
We're ish your ma ~ asked Hans
Why, Uncle Ben, and her are way to
t'other end of the rai-car, talking, said LIME,
" and | saw You up there in the looking-g1ass,
looking so sorry, that pulled away from Tn
Gle Ben, and came to sit with YOU" .....
Hans glanced up at the narrow horizontal
mirror above his head, but the glass smiled on
him now The old German loved children and
had hundred little ways of gaining their af
feetions lie pulled out his huge mothcrly-
looking silver watch, aud held it to Linie's ear,
telling her at the same time an old German le
gend of the little fairy blacksmith inside Of it.
He told her, too, of his old home, and the little
children with rosy cheeks and haxen hair who
PLAYED before the door, He told her, as if she
could understand him, of the quiet old German
university where he had held professorship,
and the golden dream Of ambition that had ex-
tended even to him, and tempted him into cold,
practical modern America The littlegrl, too
prattled innocently of their homes on the banks
of the far-off Hudson, of her mother, uncle and
playmates, until she had talked herself into a
doze; and then, laying her curls on the Ger
mans thre0dbara coat she fell fast asleep -