St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1876-08-18
Tor the Children.
Father Hans's Practical Lesson
FROM the French of Marechal in the Churchman

/
Can any one have forgotten Fatbe,
iiahs OF our village of Schoenbacb
was he not known for ten league.
round, and was not the day of his ar.
iINai counted aS a red-letter one by aI
tne housewives in that hidden corner nj
the world, which lies amongst folds OF
the mountain. When he came aIonp will
HIS nack bent under his heavy bales OF
stun, there WAS IL struggle as to who
should heckon to him first from ON. ot
the wooden balconies overhead. or vLo
lirSt draw Il glass of white wine i'm his
honor from the cask. But he rarely ac-
cepted anything to drink. ..Look Won .
he used t" say, lone has no strength
against second glass when one has
tmptIed Il first. And, in truth. the hest
liquid III the world is Gods good wine
which Is made fan above us i'm the
clouds aud glaciers. and which the little
birds regale themselves with"
he moment of father HanS'S arrival
was the happiest one in the week to me.
lie never failed to have IL store of tons
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 Whilst the house-seryants :
land III stock of thread. hooks and
buttons, and whilst my mother exam
med bales of dyed linens and colorrd
calIcots, with large tlowerv patterns. |
prowled round the packages waiting i'm
patiently until he would attend To me.
Father Hans WAS famous walker
lie marched along the stone tootpaths
ever growing weary. His heavy wooden
s;i""tS were equal, in my eyes To Hop
-hN-thumh'S SeNcn-leagued boots. Ii
was miraculous how they aScendrd the
most rugged of our rough mountains
with the same invariably vigorous step.
Are N"n not tired, Father Hans ?" he
was one day asked. when he w:ls seen
wlpln% his forehead with his checked
pocket handkerchief, but not stoppinr
To rest tor an Instant. Il tired That
would he Il fine idea for AN old rreuu-
dier like me '"
One morning. whilst Father Hans WAS
fastening up his packages. he remarked
that he WAS going on to the Shootinu
match at WildheiIn. where he felt sure
he should dispose of Il large amount of
his goods. instantly there flashed
through my mind visions of the plum
tartS and mac;IronIiS for which that place.
Is renowned. and | seemed Ia hear the.
J"\1ui sound of rifles. repeated 10y the
echoes of the mountain. But " hat
could do 1t WAS Il school daN. and
Father Hans, VIII" dctrStcd idlruess
and IdlcIS, would never consent to take.
me with him without my mothers con-
sent, and this my mother was certain
not t" give. | blinded my ewes to the
temptations, then | opened them to shut
them tighter than before in short |
was overcome 10y it. Can Nou imagine
why? 1t was becaIIsc listened to the
bad advice of blackhird of my ar-
qulintance, who sat ON a cherry tree. at
The entrance of the garden SANG IL
thrilling song on the pleasures of lib
trtN.
There is only one joy in the world -
sang The ttmptrr, land that is to bury
ones self under the green cauopIes of
the forest, or t" follow the tiowery path
WAYS still wet with dew, in coupauy
with Father Hans, How delightful to
cross the habhling brooks. and to see
the torrents tumhling over the venera-
bile rocks up above -
~ on are hight, comrade." exclaimed
to my self. "LihrrtN forever, Come
" hat may, will play truant from
school, and the result may settle itself
tom ight."
Al the same moment. | threw my cap
INTO the air. III 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 Hams could not SAY no.
"Hallo, are NOu here ," cried he in
surprise, when he caught me hiding hv
the roadside at the noise OF his adj
vancimg SahntS. "Wha are Won doing
here, then ~
Il am going t" Wildheim." replied
with confidence.
"Well. then. my boy. we will travel
together, for am going there. too
My heart beat with JOY. | had gain
ed my object. No doubt he would tell
me some of his battle tales. He took
me 10y the hand. and tried to stretch
my short steps t" the dimension of his
long strides. This was pleasant at first
IN spite of ShortneSS of breath. for the
ar was flesh and keen, and the sun had
scarcely risen. | amused myself bN
watching the great tall shadow of my
companion advancing along the road by
the side of my short one
"What is that lying there p said he
all at once. painting to IL shining object
that WAS half buried in the dust.
at is an old horse shoe" replied |,
unhesltatingly. for my eyesight WAS
better than his
We'll pick it up; it is pity to let
anything he wasted"
"Oh, but that is worth nothing, |
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 had
just despised. He could not reach it,
however, and acknowledge to my
shame, that | allowed him to disencum-
Der himself of his packages. with IL
rapid movement, which liberated him
so that he could bend down. When he
raised himself. felt rather confused,
and walked on in silence behind him,
not daring to take his hand again.
We now left the valley, and began
to ascend an open and mountainous
path. Wildheim lay on the other side
of the mountain. There WAS not Il
cloud i'll the sky, and the sun began to
,h,nt fnrth LItr,in,, ,.,-. ,.I;.,l L..