The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1876-09-01

And my brdy soon will be
sleeping like a chick-a-dee:
For with only half n try
"hkum, Winkum shuts her eye.
Father Hans Practical Lesson.
IRON the French Of Marechal in the churchman.
Gan any one have forgotten Father
Hans OF our village of Schoenbach9 Wa
he not known for ten leagues round, ant
was not the day of his arrival counted al
ared-letter one by all the housewives il
that hidden corner of the world, which
lies among folds of the mountain. Wher
he came along, with his back bent under
his heavy bales of stuff, there was
struggle as to who should beckon to him
first from one of the wooden balconies
overhead, or who first draw a glass OF
white wine in his honor from the cask.
But he rarely accepted anything to
drink. "Look you," he used to say,
lone has no strength against second
glass, when one has emptied q first.
And, in truth, the best liquor in the
world is Gods good wine, which is made
lar above us in the clouds and glaciers,
and which the little birds regale them
selves with.
The moment of Father Hans arrival
was the happiest moment of the week to
me. He never failed to have a store of
tops and whistles for his favorites in
some corner of his box, and sometimes
even little figures of Punch, that he had
carved himself during the long evenings
OF winter. While the house-scrvants
laid in a stock of thread, hooks and but
tons, and while my mother examined
bales of dyed linens and colored cali
Goes, with large fowery patterns, /
provided round the packages, wait
ing impatiently until he would attend
to me. ...,a
Father Hans was famous walker
He marched alone the stone footpaths of
the surrounding cantons without ever
growing weary. His heavy wooden sa-
bots were equal, in my eyes, to Hop-o'-
mythumb's seven-leagued boots. It
was miraculous how they assembled the
most rugged of our rough mountains
with the same invariably vigorous step.
"Are you never tired, Father Hans Z"
he was one day asked, when he was seen
wiping his forehead with his checkered
pocket handkerchief, but not stopping to
rest for an instant. 60 tired 2" That
would be fine idea for an old grenadier
like me % ritffr
One morning, while Father Hans was
fastening up his packages, he remarked
that he was going on to the shooting
match at Wildheim, where he felt sure
he should dispose of large amount of
his goods. Instantly there flashed
through my mind visions of the plum
tarts and macaroons for which that place
is renowned, and seemed to hear the
f,,I Il Of -.
echoes of the mountain. But what
could 1 do2 1t was school-day, and
Father Hans, who detested idleness and
idlers, would never consent to take me
with him without my mothers consent,
and this mother was certain not to give.
1 blinded my eyes to the temptation,
then 1 opened them to shut them tighter
than before; in short, / was overcome
by it. Can you imagine why 1t was
because listened to the bad advice of
blackbird of my acquaintance, who sat
on a cherry tree at the entrance of the
garden, and sang thrilling song on the
pleasures of liberty.
"There is only one 10y IN the world"
sang the tempter, "and that is to bury
ones self under the green canopies of
the forest, or to follow the howery path.
ways still wet with dew, in company
with Father Hans How delightful to
cross the babbling brooks, and to see
the torrents tumbling over the venera-
BILE rocks up above !"
You are right, comrade," exclaimed
to myself. Liberty forever ! Come
what may, will play truant from school,
and the result may settle itself, to-
night"
At the same moment, threw my cap
into the air, in token of independence,
and then FASTENED to set off ahead of
Father Hans, who was finishing his
round in the village. Once on the road,
Father Hans could not say no.
Hollo are you here9" cried he in
surprise, when he caught me hiding by
the road at the noise of his advancing
sabots. "What are you doing here,
then 90
am going to Wildheim," I replied
with confidence.
"Well, then, my boy, we will travel
together, for am going there, too"
My heart beat with Joy. had gained
my object. No doubt he would tell me
some of his battle tales. He took me by
the hand, and tried to stretch my short
steps to the dimension of his long strides.
This was very pleasant at first. in spite
of shortness of breath, for the air was
fresh and keen, and the sun had scarcely
risen. l amused myself by watching the
great, tall shadow of my companion ad-
vancing along the road by the side of
my short one.
What is that lying there 2" said he,
all at once, pointing to a shining object
that was half buried in the dust.
cit is an old horseshoe" replied 1,
unhesitatingly, for my eyesight was bet
ter than his. III Ell
"Well, pick it up; it is pity to let
anything be wasted"
"Oh, but that is worth nothingl /
can't stoop down to collect old iron of
that kind"
As you please, my boy"
And the old soldier, bending his thin,
lank body, took his stick, and tried to
draw the object toward him that I had
Just despised. He could not reach it,
however, and / acknowledge, to my
shame, that l allowed him to disencum-
Der himself of his packages, with a rapid
movement, which hberated him so that
he could bend down. When he raised
L. roll III