Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1856-06-27
HANS, THE CRIPPLE.
A STORY OF THE TYROL.

A soldiers widow lived in a little hut
near mountain village. Her only chiB
was cripple. Hans was kind-heartel
boy. He loved his mother and would
gladly have helped her bear the burdens
Of poverty, but that feebleness forbade it
He could not even join in the rude sport
of the young mountaineers. At the ags
of fifteen years, he felt keenly the fact
that he was useless to his mother and toI
the world.
1t was at this period that Napoleon Bo-
naparte was making his power felt thro'-
out Europe. He had decreed that TyroI
should belong to Bavaria, and not to
Austria, and sent French and Bavarian
army to accomplish his purpose. The
Austrians retreated. The Tyrolese re-
sisted valiantly. Men, women and chill
dren of the mountain land were filed
with zeal in defence of their homes. On
one occasion, ten thousand French and
Bavarian troops were destroyed in
single mountain pass, by an immense av-
alanche of rocks and trees prepared and
hurled upon them by an unseen foe.
A secret arrangement existed among
the Tyrolese, by which the approach Of
the enemy was to be communicated rom
village to village by signal fires, fromone
mountain height to another, and maeri-
ais were laid ready to give instant allrm.
The village where Hans and his moth
er lived was in the direct line of the route
the French army would take, and the
| people were full of anxiety and fear All
were preparing for the expected struggle.
The widow and her crippled son alone
seemed to have no part but to sit still
and wait. "Ah, Hans" she said one
evening, Kit is well for US now that you
can be of little use they would else make
a soldier of you" This struck tender
chord. The tears rolled down hischeek.
Mother, l am useless, cried Hans in
bitter grief. Look round our village
all are busy, all ready to strive for home
and fatherland-I am useless"
my boy, my kind, dear son, you are
not useless to me-"
"Yes, to you; l cannot work for you,
cannot support you in old age. Why was
made, mother?"
Hush, Hans" said his mother; these
repining thoughts are wrong. You will
live to find the truth of our old proverb
"God has his plan
! For every man"
Little did Hans think that ere few
weeks had passed, this truth was to be
verified in a remarkable manner.
Easter holidays, the festive time of
Switzerland, came. The people lost their
fears of invasion in the sports of the sea
son. All were busy in the merry-mak-
/ ing-all but Hans He stood alone on
the porch of his mountain hut, overlook
ing the village.
| In the evening Of Easter, after his
usual evening prayer, in which be breath
ed the wish that the Father of mercies.
would, in his good time, afford him some
opportunity of being useful TO others, he
fell into a deep sleep.
He awoke in the night, as if from a
dream, under the strong impression that
the French and Bayarian army was ap-
preaching. He could not shake off this
impression; but with the hope being rid
of it, he rose, hastily dressed himself, and
strolled up the mountain path. The cool
air did him good, and he continued his
walk till he climbed to the signal pile.
Hans walked around the pile; bat where
were the watchers? They were nowhere
to be seen; perhaps they were busted with
the festivities Of the village. Near the
i pile was an old pine tree, and in its hol-
low stem the tinder was laid ready. Hans
paused by the hollow, and as he listened,
singular sound caught his attention.
lie heard a slow and stesithy tread, then