The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1876-08-31
Father Hans Practical Lesson,

Father Hans Practical Lesson.
FFrom the French of Marechal in the Churchman j
Can any one have forgotten Father
Hans of our village Of Schoenbach? Was
he not known for ten leagues round, and
was not the day of his arrival counted as
red-letter one by all the housewives in
that hidden corner of the world, which
lies among folds of the mountain. When
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,
I" one has no strength against second
glass, when one has empted first.
And, in truth, the best liquor in the
world is Gods good wine, which is made
far 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
ne. He never failed to have store of
ops and whistles for his favorites in
lome corner of his box, and sometimes
wen little figures of Punch, that he had
sarved himself during the long evenings
# winter. While the house-scrvants
aid in stock of thread, hooks and but
ons, and while my mother examined
ales of dyed linens and colored cali
oes, with large fowery patterns, I
rOwled round the packages, wait
lg impatiently until he would attend
} me.
Father Hans was O. famous walker
te marched alone the stone footpaths of
le surrounding cantons without ever
rowing weary. His heavy wooden sa-
Dts were equal, in my eyes, to Hop-o'
y-thumb's seven-leagued boots. 1t
as miraculous how they assembled the
ost rugged of our rough mountains
18th the same invariably vigorous step.
Are you never tired, Father Hans?"
3 was one day asked, when he was seen
iping his forehead with his checkered
5cket- handkerchief, but not stoppingto
st for an instant. CT tired?" That
ould be fine idea for an old grenadier
1e me u
One morning, while Father Hans was
,stening up his packages, he remarked
atch at Wildheim, where he felt sure
should dispose of large amount of
is goods. Instantly there flashed
trough my mind visions of the plum
.rts and macaroons for which that place
renowned, and I seemed to hear the
lyful crack of rifles, repeated by the
3hoes of the mountain. But what
)uld I do? It was school-d day, and
ather Hans, who detested idleness and
Tiers, would never consent to take me
18th him without my mothers consent,
I'D this mother was certain not to give.
blinded my eyes to the temptation,
hen I opened them to shut them tighter
nan before; in short, I was overcome
y it. Can you imagine why? It was
ecause [ listened to the bad advice of q
lackbird of my acquaintance, who sat
n a cherry tree at the entrance of the
arden, and sang thrilling song on the
leasures of liberty.
"Yhere is only one 10y in the world, "
ang the tempter, 'fand that is TO bury
mes self under the green canopies of
he forest, or to follow the fowery path
Ways still wet with dew, in company
18th Father Hans How delightful to
.IOSS t46 bnOD4lAS D1OOhS3 dACA W 6OS
he torrents tumbling over the venera-
bic rocks up above !"
"You are right, comrade," exclaimed
] to myself. g Liberty forever Come
what may, will play truant from school,
and the result may settle itself. to-
night"
At the same moment, I 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 here?" cried he in
surprise, when he caught me hiding by
the road at the noise of his advancing
sabvts. "What are you doing here,
then %
st am going to Wildheim,' I replied
with confidence.
"Well, then, my boy, we will travel
together, for I 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. I 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 shining object
thai was half buried in the dust.
st is an old horseshoe" replied /,
unhesitatingly, for my eyesight was bet
ter than his.
"Wen, pick it up; it is pity to let
anything be wasted.
sob, but that is worth nothing! I
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