The Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1837-1867, 1857-11-28
II Marian'S Love.

Translated from the German; t,F the Boston J.lulaI
In the wiI!c> forest rcciol. of the IIar,1,
remote from all nci9hhorhood and .tcqurn, t!
roads. forncrl, stood the cottage Of Henry
!A.A. 4 coal burner. The situation was W, 1
chosen for i lonely home. On olc side. q
~, h hIuf' Of racN defended the cottage from
the keen blasts Of winter. and in front rose
i"' majestic pines. ;l~; kept the door sep
cool and >hid"Nl in >'::Amcr. and the wear
through supplied fhn catl burners family with
The noh!c~t "i' al !iorc>; music. Right at the
foot of III" biuii pure spring always bubblcI
up. and from il ran i,,lr stream. winding
AliI SurS!ing round ahout among the stones.
passing between the pines. where it was
crossed by rude foot bridge of logs. and
down l";o deep ra>inc where ii almost los,
itself among the rocks and logs and cntail-
Hlcd undcrbru>h: but far below it found il,
WAY ont aud taking a bold start over prcc-
licc. and making the acquaintance h, the
way of a brother stream. went mcrrilv on
through field and meadow towards the Och-
CT. There was garden plot behind TIL" cot
rage. and grape vine clung about the door,
and was trained round upon Il trclliS on the
SUMMER side. Close a-ans, the rock stood :,
goat shed with a yard enclosed hy slight
picket fence.
In spite of its lonely situation. it was a
home to be loved. and the very sight of it in
the summer time would have been answ cr
enough 20 the wonder how human beings.
with the taste to adorn it 50 prcttiv. could
Danish themselves so far from all society.
But the merry hearts that called it home
those joyous liSht-hcarted and light-footcd
creatures, whose eyes had never looked up, n
a larger clearing than the garden and mead
ow about the cottaSc-ncvcr dreamed of Ion
lincss, though the same cannot be said of the
parents; but of this by-and-bv. for it should
be known that Ialk was in no sense her
nit. The little cottage owed its picturesque
ncatncss to the fine taste and skiuful hands
Of tall and rather slender woman. whom he
always called Marian, or some endcaring pet
name. She was his wife. Her face was
striking. YOU saw it. YOU would turn to
look at it again, for there was a blending of
sorrow and resignation there, with traces of
naturally joyous and elastic spirit not yet
entirely subducd. Indeed. to sec her play
with her children on the grass. or hear her
singing at her household work. it would have
been difficult to believe that she was not al
ways happy. Cheerful she always was; for
the love of her husband and children was
enough to swcetcn the most savage life to
her, and the sorrow of which her face still
retained the traces, was older than her forest
exile. There was something in the lonliness
of their home that suited we'll with the mel
anchOiy in her nature, and she never pincd
for the hustle and constraint of the city. The
children thought it Paradise, though they
now and then wished that they could see the
world beyond the woods, Of which their pa
rents and old Erfurt, the servant or rather
their faithful companion, used to tell them
tales of the cities with their crowded streets.
palaces and cathedrals, of the village farms
with all their horses ard cattle, and to which
they listened as children commonly listen to
a tale from the Arabian Nights. And once
or twice year, when Erfurt went down to
the nearest village to make the necessary
purchases for the season, he always brought
home two or three books with pi, ture :, which
were read and studied with zest W on lcrful-
ly enhanced by the strangenesi of the life
which they revealed.