Litchfield enquirer., 1874-12-31
tFr ,m the Allan ie Monthly.l

firm the Allan e Monthly.l
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 ''ind so. Nina. you will not marry the baker,
 ''So; l waits for Gustav
 |bim?',
 ..I6see year, it na. thrsx-ye.s rssi.
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 ''Thep he will ie home soon?"
 ''I not know" answered the girl. with g wistful look iii her dark eyes. as 1T asking information from heSnperior being who sas in the skiff. a being from the outside wof:d where newspapers, the modern Tree of Knowledge, were not forbidden
 Perhaps he will re-enlist, and stay three years longer" said.
 "Ah, lady,-six year. It breaks the heart" answered Wilhelmina.
 She was gardeners daughter, a mem Der of the community of German Separat- ists who live secluded in one of Ohio's rich valleys. separated by their own broad acres and orchard-covered hills from the busy world outside: down the valley flows the tranquil Tuscarawas on it's way to the Muskingum, it's slow tide rolling through the fertile bottom-lands between stone dykes, and utilized to the utmost extent of carefulness by the thrifty brothers, ,now working saw-mill on the bank, now sending q tributary to tho donr.mill across the canal, and now branching of in sparkling race across the valley to turn wheels for two or three factories, wa. tering the great grass meadow on the way. We were floating on this river in a skif named by myself Der Fliegende Holland. CT, much to the slow wonder of the Zosr- ites, who did not understand how a Dutchman conld, nor why Ire should, fly. Wilhelmina sat before me. her oars idly trailing in the water. She showed Nu- bian head above her white kerchief: large idded soft brown eyes, heavy braids of dark hair. a creamy skin with purple tinta in the lips and brown shadows under the eyes, and a far-of dreamy expression which even the steady monotonous toil of community life had not been able to ef- face. She wore the blue dress and white kerchief of the society, the quaint little calico bonnet lying beside her: she was a small maiden; her slender form swayed in the stiff short waisted gown, her feet slipped about in the broad shoes, and her hands, roughened and browned with gar den work, were yet narrow and graceful From the first we felt sure she was graft ed, and not a shoot from the community stalk. But we could learn nothing of her origin; the Zoarites are not communica- tive; they fill each day with twelve good hours of labor, and look neither forward nor back. "She is daughter" said the old gardener in answer to our questions. "Adopted?" I suggested; but he vouch- safed no answer. I liked the little daugh- rer's dreamy face, but she was pale and undeveloped, like Southern flower grow ing m Northern soil; the rosy checked, faxen haired Rosines. Salomes. and Dor otys, with their broad shoulders and pom derous tread, thought this brown chang ling ugly, and pitied hes in their slow. goodnatUred way.
 "lt breaks the heart, said Wilhelmina again, softly, as if to herself.
 repented me of my thoughtlessness.
 'In any case he can come back for Q few days, hastened to say. "What regiment was it?"
 '"The One Hundred and Seventh, lady. '"
 l had Cleveland paper in my basket, and taking it out glanced over the war news column, carelessly, as one who does not expect to find what he seeks. But chance, for once, was with us. and gave this item: ''The One Hundred and Seventh Regiment, o. V. l., is expected home next week. The men will be paid off at Camp Chase"
 "Ahr' said Wilhelmina. catching her breath with 8 half sob underneath her tightly drawn kerchief, ''ah, mein Gus tav!" Q
 'Yes, you will soon see him, answer ed, bending forward to take the rough it- tie hand in mine; for was a romantic wife, and my heart went out to all lovers. But the girl did not notice my words or my touch; silently she sat, absorbed in her own emotion, her eyes fixed on the hill-tops far away, as though she saw the regiment marching home through the blue June sky.
 took the oars and rowed up as far as the island, letting the skiff float back with the current. Other boats were out, filled with fresh faced boys in their high crown ed hats. long waisted wide Tapped vests of calico. aad funny little swallow tailed coats with buttons up under the shoulder blades; these young Zoar breth- reu. On the vine covered dyke were groups of mothers and grave little child ren, and up in the hill orchards were mov- ing figures, young and old; the whole vil- lage was abroad in the lovely afternoon, according to their Sunday custom, which gave the morning to chorals and a long sermon ln the little church, and the after noon to nature; even old Christian, the pastor, taking his imposing white fur hat and tasseled cane for 8 walk through the community fields, with the remark, Thus is cheered the heart of man, and his ccuntenance refreshed.
 As the sun sank in the warm western sky, homeward came the villagers from the rivers, the orchards, and the meadows, men, women, and children, a hardy, sim- pie minded band, whose fathers, for re- igion's sake, had taken the long journey from Wurtemberg across the ocean to this distant valley, and made 1t . garden of rest in the wilderness. We. too. land ed, and walked mp the appletree lans to- wards the hotel.
 ''The cows come, said Wilhelmina as we heard a distant tinklng; 'I must go. !" But still she fingered. ''Der regiment, it come soon, you say?" she asked in 8 low voice. as though she wanted to hear the good news again and again.
 AACJ ~AA OO P0AN OA ucAe "coA, Sucy cannot be later than ten days from now. D '"Ten day! An, mein Gustav. 'murmur- ed the little maiden; she turned away and tied on her stiff bonnet. furtively wiping of a tear with her prim handkerchief fold ed in a square.
 "Why, my child, said, following her and stepping to look in her face, "What is this?"
 '.It is nothing; it is for glad,- very glad, said Wilhelmina. Away she ran as the first solemn COW came into view, heading the long procession meandering slowly towards the stalls. They knew nothing of haste. these dignified commu- nity COWS; from stall to pasture. from pasture to stall, in plethora of comfort, this was their life. The silver haired shepherd came last with his staff and scrip, and the nervous shepherd-dog ran hither and thither in the hope of finnine some COW to bark at; but the comfortable COWS moved on in orderly tanks, and he was obliged to dart off at tangent every now and then. and bark at nothing. to relieve his feelings. Reaching the paved courtyard each COW walked into her own