Sunbury American. [volume] (Sunbury, Pa.) 1848-1879, 1875-01-29
S;rIes arro gheteRBes.
LIFE AT THE PARSONAGE.

About the second day after my arrival at
the parsonage, last July, said Mother
who can tell me the history of this queer
old house, with its big, rambling rooms
and air of German man comfort
There you 90 child, always wanting 70
know the history of people, and things.
When cleaned house last spring found
an old portfolio in the garret, full of pa
pers written in French and German they
may tell the story of some of the people
who have lived here: You know par
sopage sees many occupants
needed no further word, but ran up in
to the garret and gathered up the portfolio :
it was locked yet, but the end had been
torn off, and it was packed full of papers. L
took it to the study room, and spreading
an old shawl on the floor, poured out my
treasures. There were several packages
Of old letters, every one dating back before
the use of envelopes. Some were post
marked Berlin, Prussia, some Paris,
France, while Brussels and Cologne had
not few There was fair young face on
ivory, there was-well, several little love
souvenirs such as we all keep. You sir.
who having been trotting your grandsons
on your knees for the last half hour, will
remember that package Of letters forty
years old, kept in your desk under lock and
KEY, labelled Business Yes. business,
but not in stocks: they might be properly
! labelled Bonds, for they bound your heart
when lie was young and death itself can
not unbind you. And you, madame, who
| are good wife and true, have you ever
explained to your husband about that LOCK
of brown hair (your husbands was Jet
black that You look at tearfuly once in,
oh, ever so long?
| All, yes, say we all have them. The
most practical men Of my acquaintance
! kept a rose in book for fifteen years its
beauty and perfume have long since de-
parted, but to its owner it stands for all
that is good and beautiful in life. Business
may dwarf and care sour us, but sentiment
in the heart is perennial.
Dear me =! child said my mother, Il
would burn that trash of German and
French papers what do you care for other
peoples old letters
All papers, and especially all manu-
script papers, is dirt in my mothers eyes,
and know her dread Of litter ;; SO, after
being assured that | would clean up the
last fragment, she left me to my reading.
soon found little book evidently writ
ten BY womau's hand, in the neatest Of
German text, with here and there a French
quotation. read the book first, and then
the letters they gave me glimpse into
the lives of SIX persons. | know the editor
would simply throw this into the waste
basket, if should attempt to translate all
of them, but will make such selections as
may give you some idea of the lives of these
simple people.
The journal commences January /,
1S49. This is the first New Year we have
spent away from the Fatherland. When
Louis prayed this morning at worship,
feared he would break down. | know he
thought of the old father and mother in
Germany.
'Ah this is a cold country, and cold
people live IN it shall | ever see the vine
clad bills of the Rhine again
What am I, that | should murmur
NV sister.iu-law would answer that ques-
ton by saying, you are nothing but little,
near-sighted old maid. Am an old maid?
No, am not an old maid. Yet twenty
times a day hear of my old maid ways,
my old maid voice and my oldmaid style.
Yet in the sight of God | am not an old
maid. Fritz and l were betrothed thirty
years ago to-day. Jesu recorded it in his
book, and in his sight we were married.
MY father is Il Colonel in the Prussian
army, and his proud spirit would not let his
daughter we'd with a schoolmaster's son.
Poor old man he feels disgraced that his
son should be priest, as he calls Luth-
eran minister, in anger. His two children
fail him, he SAYS Louis is minister ,and |,
well, as could not marry Fritz, love my
brother next, and follow his fate, to make
his life with termagant little more en-
durable. So our names are never mention
ed in my fathers presence. They need not
be. They are written on his heart.
May lst. l have Just had Il long talk
with Louis about Maggie, his daughter. |
learned English at School, just as learned
Franch, and go when ! visited Philadelphia
with my brother, was able to see 4 great
difference between American and German
! girls. The former are better educated.
They study Latin, algebra and geometry,
and other things that only boys study with
us. My father thought 4 girl could not
understand such things. These girls are
not 80 skillful in drawing, painting and
needle work and music rs we were, but
then one cannot know everything. want
my brother to educate our Maggie like the
people of this country. He does not think
/ it best to do 50. He says reading, writing
and casting up accounts, are enough for
1t was enough i'll our country, but do
/ not like TO think Of Maggie knowing less
, than other ladies of society. Of course my
! brother must know BEST
May 10. This is Maegie's birthday.
! She Is fifteen to-day. She is almost beau
! ty. What pet she would be in her grand
fathers quarters. How the young officers
would admire the Colone's handsome
granddaughter. Alas she never was, and
! she never will be admitted to her Grandfa-
! theirs house. To him she is simply the
priests daughter. Maggie's eyes are blue
as the skies of Italy, and her hair golden,
| like in the old pictures, perfect Seauty to
| her old aunt. l am teaching her drawing,
painting and music, while her mother is
teaching her TO spin, weave and cook Still,
l must own that Maggie is ignorant. At
| her aye l could talk theology and politics,
| ,nj b,1 ro,d Schiller op6 Goethe hut