The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1875-07-08
AN OLD SOLDIER.

On a December evening III the year
1870 a train, entering the depot with
much noise and hustle, elected Gottlieb
Braun into the city streets.
There was nothing remarkable III the
circumstance. He was small and insig
nifcant in appearance, with an express
sion of patient suffering, and one arm
gone. Such was Gottlieb Braun, one
Of those quiet natures capable of BRAY
cry, also capable of fighting III the last
trench, as he had done in the war, which
had manned, crippled, and made him a
pensioner. Had you asked him where
The arm was lost, he would have replied
with military brevity, " Gettysburg. !"
Or did you inquire as to the cause of an
ugly sabre cut across the brow, and a
wound III the thigh rendering quick move
ments painful, he would have added,
'sSeven Oaks" and Shenandoah. !"
Despair had rendered him hero for a
brief moment; he had sought death in
the ranks and had not found it, but hope
had died within him long before, when
his little daughter Gretchen was swept
away by the fever: lonely, quiet man,
of whom war had made cruel sport, and
left alive. Humble as he was, Gottlieb
still cherished ambition; in summer he
was q peddler back among the hills; in
winter he mended shoes. The ruin of
large business houses cast shadow
abroad; the ruin of Gottlieb Braun,
.soldier-peddler, occasioned no comment
In the mercantile world, and brought
grief only to his own heart. The autumn
mists of mountain lakes had claimed him
as victim of ague, and while he was Ill,
strong men robbed him of his little
stock. Surely, among the crimes of
earth that cry out to heaven, this rob-
berry must be heard Did Gottlieb weep
and repine? Not at all. He was now
coming to draw his pension of 800, and
in the spring would start life again.
Here he was in the city streets, gazing
about him blankly, without friend,
and, still worse dilemma, with no money
In his pocket. It would make no differ
ence to any one how he went or came,
he thought; and yet at that very moment
Christine Carlen, terror in her wide blue
eyes, was saying to the shopman, CT
never did it I"
The chance of being left supperless
and without shelter had a still worse
aspect when it is remembered that it was
Saturday night, with Sunday coming,
and Gottlieb would not receive his pen
sion until the following Wednesday.
Up among the mountains the Sabbath
meant nature-worship to Gottlieb; skies
were then brighter, and sunshine rippled
the silver waters of cascades; the breeze
played among the leaves; and In all the
voices of woods and air he heard only
the laughter of his child Gretchen. Often
at such times he took pen and endeav-
ored to write his thoughts of her on the
day of days, when heaven kissed earth;
but his great need would not flow in
words on paper; he remained dumb, the
purple mountains raising a prayer all
about him.
In the town all was different. He
paused on the curb-stone irresolutely,
pierced by the miserable conviction that
he was weary, hungry, and cold. A car
riage drew up, and gentleman whose
bearing betrayed fussy importance
alighted.
HFBless my soul | [ am late, actually
Late for dinner party in my own housed"
he exclaimed, testify, his glance falling
on Gottlieb Braun.
The gentleman, whose middle age was
smooth, rosy, and rotund, even as that of
Gottlieb was sharp and meagre, assembled
the hroad steps of house, and was met
at the threshold by trim servant.
ssHave not arrived. eh?'' he said. rub
bling his hands. every good. Still the
fish may be spoiled, Maria. . Again his
preoccupied gaze fell on Gottlieb, who,
victim Of circumstances, advanced and
begged for assistance.
Mr.. Caldwell listened with certain
exasperated composure. He was per-
son,of weight IN the world, wealthy and
noted for being connected with many
branches of charity; still he never gave
at the door. A safe member of society,
this, not liable to be carried away by i'm
pulse; whose very heart must be divided
into sections for distinct emotions:
whose principles, measured by rule and
compass, did not permit Gottlieb Braun
to gather crumbs which fell from the
table spread for a foreign attache and
Mr.. Thorn the millionaire. S.
The trim servant still held the door
open, permitting glimpse of marble
vestibule, rim of crimson rug. the
sweep of velvet curtain, and group of
lovely children playing with a poodle.
9 1t is against my rules to give money.
I dare say your story is true. Served In
the war, Ell? And did not run avay?"
!" No." said Gottlieb, simply.
Mr.. GildweH pursed up his ipssourly,
and did not spare himself. At the risk
OF having his guests discover him with
49,