The Tiffin tribune. (Tiffin, Ohio) 1868-1887, 1873-12-25

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: the conquering hosts, until the new
, came Of the victory at Sedan, an
: with il the fathers name on the lis
OF wounded. Then followed long day
Of suspense, and the fear Of somethiD
worse, the impossibility Of going q
him IN a hostile country, and tn
dread OF his exposure to greater dan
gers, and, at last, the intense sens
. Of relief when a letter came from
himself, written in the hospital .
Versailles, to which he had been re
moved, telling them that he had Oh
tanned furlough for Christmas, an'
. leave to remain at home until full,
: restored and capable of taking hi
> place in the ranks again. Hence tn
joy to-day, and the glad preparations
At ten o'clock, the mother, havinl
set everything in readiness for thi
happy evening, even to the trays o
! supper refreshmets in the store-room
and the torch laid ready by the tre'
! to light the tapers withal, came int
, the dwelling room closked and wrap
ped in furs. 81 must go out for ar
hour or so, dear children" she said ;
''be good, and obey sister Gretel
while 1 am gone"
"Thou goest to bring the dear faith,
FritZel hung to her skirts, and pulled
the tassels Of her muff.
Wise little Carlotta, who had jump
ed up hastily, and held her hands be
hind her, full of knitting work, tossed
back her mass of flaxen hair, and
broke in with "Acb nein, thou foolish
Fritzel, the father comes only dfte,
dinner" Mother kissed the little
boys earnest, dimpled face, and went
out, laughing softly to herself in the
happiness Of her heart, while Olgo,
who had hardly got through with hel
work in time, hurried after her, draw
ing on warm mittens as she went hall
q flight behind Frau HOn mann all
the way down stairs. They were
much alike, this mother and little
daughter, and the mother was little
and young looking too, seeing that
she had the responsibility of 30 many
children on her shoulders right
motherly, though, dear little soul,
with a firm way about her, in spite OF
her lovely brown eyes and gentle
looks.
"Bless the dear heavens who Is
bringing my Fritz back to me !" she
thought. 81 do wonder IL he will
think the children much improved %
she mused for, at least, the hundredth
time in her fond mothers heart.
"Our Gretchen is such a woman, and
real comfort, and Paul has been
truly good boy while the dear father
has been away. Then FritZel, and
Carlotta and my Olga,"-smiling,
and holding out her hand to the little
girl, who, laden with a basket, now
Joined her, and the sweet motherly
eyes filed with happy tears as she
named over her treasures.
They presently entered a mean
looking door, and went up fight after
| flight OF stairs to the rooms Of some of
their pensioners. To one poor SOL
dier's family after another the two
went like Christmas angels, leaving
gifts for the little ones who had no
father on earth, this Christmas
day, and comforting more than one
mothers heart with reminders of
the dear Father in heaven, who cares
for the widow and orphans, raising
up for them friends in the bitter hour
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pleted, and near noon, Olga was dis
patched home with an important
message to old Christel, the cook, and
Frau Hoffman,, wrapping her fur
cape more closely about her-for the
wind was keen and bitter-set off at q
quick pace for "Unter den Linden,n
where she had an errand at a tempt
ing booksellers shop. Here, careful
ly, she selected the beautiful book,
Ruckert's poems, illustrated lit hap
pened to be favorite of her own and
her husband's,-in which she inscrib-
ed, then and there, the beloved name,
for fear she would be too much hurried
at home to do it properly. Her pleas
ant task accomplished, she set her
face homeward; but few steps from
the book store, was q telegraph Office,
round which q crowd had collected
SO customary an occurrence, however,
in these war times, that she did not
pause to wonder at it, besides (she
thought Of this afterwards with q pas
sion of remorse at her selfishness,
was not all she cared for in the war
on its way to her st this moment ?
What to her, in comparison, was
prince or king, beleagured city or hos
tile camp, or even fatherland itself?
At this moment a familiar face con-
fronted hers, the owner thereof push
ing through the crowd; but it was
such pale, haggsrd face, with such
startled eyes, that the sight Of it thrill
led her with a vague dread. 1t was
old Herr Scharlach, a friend and col
league of her husband, at the Poly
technic. Hessw her, and growing a
shade paler, half turned aside, as
though he wished to avoid her; but
she had noticed something's white
paper-in his hand, partly thrust be-
hind him; and scarce knowing what
she expected or thought, she seized his
arm with an imploring "What is 1t,
my friend; what have you heard?"
All her light-hearted confidence had
vanished. A great blank dread stared
her in the face. She seemed to read
her doom in Herr Scbarlach's averted
glance, as mechanically she held out
her hand for the paper. Then he
reused himself. "Only a skirmish,
dear madam" he managed to say In
a constrained voice.
"Let me see."
She spoke coldly and clearly,-all
tie feeling gone out Of her tones. She
took the paper-a bulletin. At one
glance she saw it amid an hundred
names, the one-the only one for her
-"Killed, Private F. Hoffman,,
Qqeen Elizabeth Regiment,-Com-
pany." That was all. 1t happened
in a skirmish, near Mont Aaron,
against LIE BOurget, two days before,
when that company had lost heavily.
She took it all in somehow; and when
she looked up from the paper it was
as though she had been reading it for
hours, and she seemed to have known
it all hundred years before. 1t was
an old, old sorrow, but sorrow that
would always endure, the bitterness OF
death, which should never be over
past. She raised her pitiful, sad eyes
TO the good old professors face, and
only said in q dreamy, ,far-away voice,
"Oh, the poor children p' and would
have fallen to the ground had not he
supported her, while the plying by
ISLANDERS, who saw with the keen
sight that came of daily sad expert
ence, fiocked to her help. A near
droschke was summoned, and she was
lifted into it and driven to her now
stricken home, desolate of its dearest
hope. Paul, rosy and merry, muff1ed
against the cold, with his skates slung
over his shoulder, fresh from a skat-
ing frolic on the pond in the public
garden, near by, came bounding up to
the door as the horse stopped, and
sprang forward to assist his mother
and their friend; but when he saw her
pale, lifeIess face he was terrified, and
began to cry, HMy dear little mother,
what ails her? Mein Herr, ach,
tell me 70 be entreated. The poor old
professor, trembling and agonized
himself, could not answer him. When
poor Frau Hoffman, had been car
ried Up the long flight Of stairs to her
bright little home, which she had left
so blithely not three hours before, and
laid on the sofa in the dwelling-room,
she opened her eyes at last, and they
rested on the children, who, pale and
weeping, had gather closely around
her. The kind old Herr had told the
little orphans, in broken tones, Of
their bereavement by this time, and
they, overwhelmed as they were, still
hardly realized their terrible loss; but,
so much the more, the stricken con-
dition Of the dear mother before them,
fnr whose sake they now stroye to he