The weekly north Iowa times. [volume] (McGregor, Iowa) 1857-1867, 1858-12-22
From tho Dollar Newspaper.
FRANZ DUTCHKIN.
BY J. GILLON.

| FRANZ DUTCHKIN.
.r. BY J. a1LLoN. .. .. -..
Franz Dutchkin was little old man.
who lived in little old house. on the
banks Of the Rhine, and it would have
puzzled wiser person than you or L,
kind reader, to tell which was the elder,
the dry brown old house or the brown
dry looking old man who lived in it,
Both seemed as though they might have
challenged King Time to q trial OF
strength and patience, and have come
off victor. ..s... ..... ... ..s.... RI. .
The little old house stood in the midst
of great cosy.looking barns and out
houses, two or three times as large as
itself, and evening and morning the air
was filled with the lowing of cattle, the
bleating Of sheep, the busy cackle of
poultry and all the sounds which speak
of home comfort and happiness but if
Franz Dutchkin's cattle lowed of any
such thing, they forever forfeited their
character for veracity. for Franz was
guiltless Of having shed one beam of
Joy or gladness on human soul, since
the days when he lay on his mothers
b; east and woke in her heart the sweet
JOY of maternity. One thing only Franz
Du chkin loved-money. That he. low
ed truly. and bowed himself, body, soul
and spirit, in the dust before it. 1t WAS
all he had to love; the smiling face of
a wife had never Frightened the brown
old house. nor the merry voices Of
children woke its sleeping echoes since
Franz Dutchkin called himself it's mas
ter; he said "omen had grown lazy and
extrayagant, and he was too poor him
self to keep wife in idleness. But if
you had seen how scornfully the Rhine
land maidens tossed their heads, and
curled their bright red lips, you would
have sworn it was because no one would
have him for all his gold. Franz had
a brother, Rudolph, who resembled him
in but one thing, the name of Dutch
kin. They started in life with equal
stores of this worlds goods. but while
gold flowed in a steady stream into the
strong box of Franz, and stuck there as
if wedged and welded fast, Rudolph
seemed gifted with the fatal power of
turning every coin he touched to air,
for none ever remained in his hands. and
his fortune dwindled in spite of all his
efforts to turn the tide the other way.
Such was his ill-luck I doubt not, had
he been set down in the valley of Col
conda, the diamonds would have turned
to worthless pebbles at his feet
Though poor in the wealth of this world.
Rudolph was rich in heart treasures.
He had rose-cheeked, rough-handed,
but tender hearted wife, who toiled with
him early and late, always cheerful and
contented. and eight lusty little ones.
who made the house merry with their
gambols. Nevertheless it must be ad-
mitted that. highly as these heart trea-
sures are priced by their possessors,
and have heard very poor men say
worlds could not buy them. they are
better calculated to drag man down to
poverty's dark vale, rather than elevate
him to the fair and sunny plains of af-
t1uence. Down the grim descent Ru-
dolph slipped. slipped, slipped. despite
all his struggles, till he landed at the
bottom, sick and penniless. The true
hearted wife, rosy-cheeked no longer,
wept, and labored, and prayed. but ten
mouths were had to fill, and one buster
ing November day found them keeping
a forced fast, with no prospect of feast
to top off with. Then the poor wife
threw her coarse shawl over her head,
and with sinking heart sailed forth
amid the rain and sleet, to try if Franz
could be prevailed on. by the pleading
of suffering kindred, to part with some
of his boarded wealth. Along the
muddy road she toiled +; the clustering
wind almost blew her away, the rain
and sleet beat in her face, but she heed
ed them not; her heart was at home
with her sick husband and starving
children. By and by the window of the
little brown house glimmered in the
distance, and soon the poor woman,
timidly peeping in, saw Franz Dutch
kin sitting in his arm. chair before
blazing fire, smoking his pipe in cheer
ing comfort. While she gazed, there
was whirr among the wheels of the
quaint old clock that stood on the man
tie shelf. blinking in the fire light. Out
popped little man in red night cap.
who held bag, marked gold, in each
hand ; he clanked them together six
times. nodding and rolling his head all
the time at Franz, who nodded too, and
then popped back into the old clock.
and all was silent. Six O'Clock, yes,
six o'clock, and the deepening gloom
warned her to hesitate no longer. Her
timid knock brought Franz to the door
and she began with trembling voice and
sinking heart to pour forth her sorrow
full tale, he made a motion as if he
would push her away with his hands.
saying, go, go, l cannot help it if my
brother is lazy, and has great pack Of
children he mus. feed himself"
The het tears streamed over her
cheeks, washing off the G. Id fog and
sleet, as she said. turning sadly away /:
"Pray Jesus the gold you have refused
the poor may never weigh SO heavy on
your soul it cannot amount to glory"
Franz Dutchkin stood looking at her
as she plodded along the darkening road,
and not till she was lost amid mist, mud
and darkness. did he turn to his bright
room, and closing the door, sit down
again in his armchair before the FIRE
but spell had fallen over him moth
ing was SO bright aud comfortable as
before. When he looked into the fire,
he saw the figure he had been watch
ing walking down its glowing alleys,
with sometimes for its companion the
slender. boyish form of the poor schol-
ar ha had 60 rudalv fnrnad fronn hss