The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1876-07-26

The boy looked at his mother with
wonder in his eyes. But there was no
longer any sign of tears in them. A new
fire Lit them up.
"Go," she continued, "to Gasker
Willems, in the little street near st.
Andrews. There take chamber, and
may God be with you! Now and then,
perhaps, I may come to see you. But
it is better that I should not, and that
your father should think you gone
way, no one knows where. But-and
now listen earnestly-in a year from this
day, toward sunset, 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 a noble work. Meet us,
then, by the pulpit in st. Andrews
church in q 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 ABSENCE"
and the good little mother almost
smiled, and looked very wise through
her tears.
Motherkin," said Jan, 81 will obey
you"
Then the poor child begun to tremble
at the thought of going out alone into
the worl,. But his courage came to
him finally, and he kissed his mother
again and again. .
"If anything dreadful happens I will
let you know" said she, "but father
Jan must not hear from you, nor see
you, until year from this day."
Farewell, then, motherkin," said
the child; "farewen for long, long
year. By the carved pulpit in Saint
Andrews, in twelvemonth !"
They took their .farewells then and
there, lest old Jan should suspect them,
if they were crying toward evening.
At nightfall, as the barge approached
the lock again, after its station near a
market all day, the mother went on
shore to get pail Of clear water; old
old Jan followed her, storming and
threatening, as she knew he would be-
cause supper for the workmen was not
ready. The boy took the little bag Of
clothes and the money which his mother
had prepared for him; as the boat grazed
the 81 le of the lock he jumped out, and
was speedily 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 headboard was pictured history
of the destruction OF Pharaoh's host,
whose feet were grifins' claws, whose
curtain posts were lovely angels with
uplifted faces.
=
A year brought sad changes to old
Jan Kammerick. At first when he
learned of his sons flight, he ascribed
it to meddlesome neighbors, and bis
rage knew no bounds. He stoutly in
sisted that he would never try to bring
back the vagabond wood hacker. He
would not hear the boys name spoken.
Sometimes, when he saw that the moth
er locker paler than was her wont, and
that she wept silently when she was
polishing her pots and kettles, his con.
science smote him. But he would
never have been really sorry if misfor-
tune had not come upon him. One OF
his bargemen, whom he had once
beaten, scuttled the barge and fled. Jan
and his wife had narrow escape from
drowning, and, had it not been for
friendly aid, would have lost all thei'
pots and kettles. Young Jan had been
sent away to Brussels by the good Gas
ker Willems, few days before this, and
knew nothing of it until many days
af erward. He was busy with his art,
in which he made astonishing progress.
The next misfortune wh.ch befell old
Jan was the loss of his little house on
the banks of the Scheldt. A fire burned
out the interior, and cracked the stone
walls. Old Jan had not money enough
to rebuild it. Then his limbs began to
fail him; they shook and trembled.
The neighbors said: "It is because he
kicked and beat his son u Ard old Jan
himself began to be very much of their
opinion. He had now only a small
barge; was obliged always to live in it,
and was very poor and discouraged.
Sometimes his heart was softened toward
his patient wife, and he would say:
You will be the first to be killed by
my poverty. 1t would have been better
for you If I never had seen you In st.
Andrews church.
Then she would answer: "No, In
deed Our fortune is yet to come out
of that church, JAM"
She said this 80 often, and with such
emphasis, that one day he looked at her
curiously and said:
"Why, Anneken, what do you mean ?"
"To-morrow," she answered, "we
shall see. Jan, it is many years since
we have taken holiday. We are as
good as the rest of the world; let us
live our youth over again; let us stay in
Antwerp, and at sunset tomorrow let
us visit St. Andrews church, and stand
by the carven pulpit where
"Stutf !" the old man was saving,
when the mother put her hand upon his
mouth. He no longer threatened or beat
her; his punishments had sobered him
his heart almost yearned for his lost son.
"By the carven pulpit" continued
the mother, "where we may say 6
prayer for our lost son."
"Well. if you will have it so, An
neken," he answered, almost gently.
In the Netherlands there are man,
churches filed with rare and exquisite
carvings, with altar pieces, shrines, pull
pits, choirs, vestries, fonts, and sacris
ties laden with a wealth of intricat,
work, done in wood by skillful hands
and in Antwerp the richest specimens o
this curious labor are to be found. Ii
the great cathedral of st. Jacques
where Peter Paul Rubens, the painter
lies buried, there are hundreds of ricl
and fantastic carvings, out OF which tn,
fancies of the elder artists peer curl
ously at the prosaic present. Some
times the birds are little too odd to b.
real, the dragons are almost too funn.
tor a cathedral. aud the flowers ant
leaves are not constructed strictly In &C
cordance with botany; but, on tn
whcle, you feel that if things in natur'
are not like those in the carvings, the,
at least ought to be-so charming, 81
droll, 80 satisfactory are theyl
Inst. Andrews church, OF whlchyount