The Donaldsonville chief. [volume] (Donaldsonville, La.) 1871-current, 1873-09-13
THE YOUNG MUSICIAN.
BIZ REREcoA naRp1Na DAVIS.

By kEBECGA HARDING DAVISs
TEERE are some quaint little towns hid
den here and there in the PENNSYLVANIA
hills, of which few of the readers of the
ConspGsssoqs are likely to have heard. The
settlements were made by Germans, a
generation or two ago who carried into
tie wilderness their own traditions, Ian
gHage and customs, and who have held TO.
sstsssS1ers o5stita5eiy ever since. The young
men of these families do not go West, ~
as other Americans do, to push their for
tunes; the young women marry usually
among their own people.
One of the most secluded and qpeerest
of these villages is Parfendorff, among the
central mountains of the State. 1t lies off
of any postroad, and is too insignificant
to find place on the map.
You mfghtrid for aday or two through
forests of oak and sycamore, with the oc-
casional glimpse of deer, if luck favored
you, or, indeed, of d bear, before yol
would come to this lonely hamlet, which,
after all, consists but of half-a-doZeR enor-
inous red-roofed barns, with small dwell
lings attached. After searching for a
while. you would have found, years ago,
one of these houses with a broader porch
than the others, on which two sleepy, fat
Dutchmen rocked themselves in the sun,
and dezed and smoked while watching for
the guests that never came.
By the side of the mountain, toe, close
to the house, spring dripped its clear
crystal into long, messy, wooden
trough, which ran over on theI road,
making delectable puddle for the ducks.
This was the most prominent sign that
old Peter Schnell's house was an fin.
The countenances of the people were
heavy. There was nothing light or beau
tiful in them; no hint of any feeling be-
yond dull appetite for scrapple or iwurst.
The town, too, had a heavy, listless ap-
pearanee, with but two singular exeep-
fioas-the rare and lovely flowers in front
of every dwelling, and the music with
which in the evening the streets were
filed.
All Germans care for music, butit was
Herr Weber who had taught the bows in
Parrenderf such wonderful skill. None
Of them, except Conrad Rosen, the car
penter's son, had anything else to do after
The ploughing and planting wete over
than to scrape away on their violir:s.
But long before Conrad was born, his
father had found out there was no car
pentering work to be done in Parrendorf.
His farm was poorly managed, the crops
died out, acre after acre was sold, and the
end of it all was that. R0sen with the
rheumatism. and his wife with a lame leg,
! nd Conrad, red-eheeked and bright
ed, were the poorest and jolliest family
Parrendorff.
he old man and woman sat and smoked
A- pipes at each side of the clean
4 Conrad dug, and plowed, and
| for half the farmers in the coun-
keep meat in the pot. Worst of
bout this time the lad began to cast
lue eyes on Greta Brandt, and to
E' his fiddle into Brandt's porchi in the
ours he had to play omit.
b was then plump little girl of six
Il. fsesy and fair. In the last month or
3. she lad tied her long Yellow braids
Ssth bitsk~of blue ribbon, and knitted
8 $oen-work ~ he white stockings that
covered her seel ankles.
Young Peter S, hnell began to take his
violin up in the 81 Hings, TOO, and Greta
said. q Ms1ss ich ds3s, with them both,
and laughed till she lowed her pretty
white teeth. and held Q { her soft, warm
hand lust as quickly TO ~ come orle as the
other. Conrad laughed aek at her. but
Peter struck q melanehol% te or his vi
oIin. He was tall, SalN .kl fellow,
with determinately gloom aS
Very probably, Conrad. was a
reckless. topsy-turvy, GOO ed fel-
low. never had serious tG as to
how it all would ends until one ling he
chanced to be sitting in Gret Kitchen
alone. when her father and Pete 5chnell
were outside.
Z HoE's this % grunted old Peer. g Is
II Conrad Rosen that I hate sean hers
aoair ! / do not like dat, sacob Rrandt.