Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1876-08-30

to work, but had thrown into the river
many beautiful images of saints, of
birds, of dragons, which the child had
carved by stealth when the bargeman
was not near, and had then offered to
the boor, asking him to sell them and
buy tobacco for himself with the money.
"No child of mine shall waste his life
over such mummeries," said old Jan.
While the boy was musing bitterly on
his It, his mother, who had finished
washing her pots and kettles, came TO
him, and while she wrung out her dish
cloth with her lean and blistered hands,
she said, in low voice:
Jan, boy, you are small and feeble.
but you are now thirteen, and 1 think
you would be brave and resolute. The
good soul downstairs" (she always
called Father Jan good soul, because
she knew that he was an old brute)-
"the good soul has made up his mind
that you are TO be bargeman, and he
is stern, as you know. Now-do not
speak-we must try new way to get
you launched into the world"
Here the mothers tears began to fall
fast, and she thought of the beatings
which she might receive if she carried
out her plan. ''My child, you must
leave us; you must run away"
The boys eyes flashed he rose, and
limped toward his mother.
"Never," he said. 81 cannot leave
you, motherkin! Leave you with that
manr
"Listen, childr' she said. "We will
try little way which the good God has
put into my head. You will be ge-
MUS, my son-one of those great people
who can express just what they want
to say. You will carve your thoughts
in wood-in stone, perhaps. Tonight,
when the barge stops near the lock, L
will nuke an errand for your father on
shore. will give you a few pieces Of
money out of the sum which We have
saved for Bertha's dowry, and you shall
fiy. Your father will not hunt for you ;
his heart is hard, and he will say he is
glad you are gone"
The boy looked at his mother with
wonder in his eyes. But there was no
longer any signs of tears in them. A
new fire lit them up.
&C.," she continued, "to Gasker
Willens, in the little street near St.
Andrews. There take a chamber, and
may God be with you. Now and then,
perhaps, may come TO see you. But
it is better that should not, and that
your father should think you gone
away, no one knows where. But-now
listen earnestly-in a year from this
day, toward sunset, 1 will bring your
father to Saint Andrews church. 1t
was there that he first saw me, twenty
years ago; there by the great carven
pulpit, which you, poor child, have
never seen, but which will delight your
eyes. Jan, one year is not long time,
but you have already done much, and
perhaps, before twelve months have
passed. you will have done noble
work. Meet us, then, by the pulpit in
st. Andrews Church a year from this
day, at the sunset hour. Bring with
you some delicate carving as an offering
to him, and at the same time say that
YOU wish to return to us. Perhaps his
heart will have been softened by your
abscnce;" and the good little mother
almost smiled, and looked very wise,
through her tears.
"Motherkin," said Jan, 'I will obey
you"
Then the poor child began to tremble
at the thought of going out alone into
the world. But his courage came to
him finally, and he kissed his mother
again and again.
:.If anything dreadful happens, Twill
let you know" said she, 'but father
Jan must not hear from you, nor see
you, until a year from this day."
Farewell, then, motherkin," said
the child; farewell for long, long
year. By the carved pulpit in st. An
drew's, in a twelvemonth,"
They took their farewells then and
there, lest old Jan should suspect them,
If they were crying toward evening.
Atnight-fall, as the barge approached
the lock again, after its station near
market all day, the mother went on
shore to get pail of clear water; old
Jan followed her, storming and threat.
ening, as she knew he would, because
supper for the workmen was not ready
The boy took the little bag of clothe;
and the money which his mother had
prepared for him; as the boat grazed
the side of the lock he jumped out, ant
was soon lost to view in the crowd.
Two hours later, he had been received
at the house of Gasker Willems, in the
little street near st. Andrews Church
He slept in an old carven bedstead
whose head-board was pictured his
tory of the destruction of PharOah's
host, whose feet were griffin's claws
whose currain-posts were lovely angels
with uplitted faces-angels whose very
silence seemed eternally to praise God
CHAPTER III.
A year brought sad changes to ole
Jan Kammerick. At first, when N
heard of his sons flight, he ascribed i
to meddlesome neighbors, and his rag
knew no bounds. He stoutly insisted
that he would never try to bring bacl
the vagabond wood-hacker. He woult
not hear the boys name spoken. Some
times, when he saw that the mothe
looked paler than was her wont, ant
that she wept silently when she wa
polishing her pots and kettles, his con