Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1876-07-06

months have passed, yeu will have
done a noble work Meet us. then, by
the pulpit in ST. andrews Churca in a
year from this day, at the sunset hour
Bring with you sme delicate carving
as an offering to Inn, and at the same
time say that you wish to return to us.
Perhaps his heart will have been soft
ened by your abseace;" and the good
little mother almost smiled, and look
ell very wise, through her tears.
"Motherkin.' ,aid Jan. Il will
obey YOU"
Then the poor child began to trem-
bic at the thought If going out alone
into the world. But his courage came
to him finally. and he kissed his moth
er again and again
eff anything dreadful happens,
will let you knoy," said she, "but
father Jan must hot hear from you.
nor see you, until year from this
day."
Farewell. then. motherkin," said
the child; "farew.ll for a long, long
year. BY the carved pulpit in Saint
Andrews, in twdyemonth!"
They took their farewells then and
there, lest old Janshould suspect them,
if they were crying toward evening.
At night-fall, as the barge approach
ed the lock again, after its station near
a 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 mot
ready. The boy took the little bag of
clothes and the money which his moth
er had prepared for him; as the boat
grazed the side of the lock he jumped
out, and was speedily lost to view in
the crowd.
Two hours lateIhe had been received
at the house of G;.sker 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 Pharaoh $
host, whose feet were gritlins claws,
whose curtain-posls were lovely angels
with uplifted faces-angels whose very
silence seemed eternally to praise God.
CHATTER II.
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 his
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 mother looked paler than was her
wont, and that she wept silently when
she was polishing her pots and kettles,
his conscience smote him. But he
would never have been really sorry if
misfortune had lot come upon him.
One of his bargmen. whom he had
once beaten, scuttled the barge and
fled Jan and his wife had a narrow
escape from drowning, and had it not
been for friendly aid, would have
lost all their pots and kettles. Young
Jan had been sent away to Brussels by
the good GaSker Willems, "a few days
before this. and knew nothing of it
until many days afterward. He was
busy with his art. in which he made
astonishing progress.
The next misfortune which 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 enoughto rebuild it. Then his
limbs began to fail him; they shook
and trembled. The neighbors said
1T is because he kicked and beat his
son. And old Jan himself began tC
be very much of their opinion. liz
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 pa
tient wife, and he would say:
you will be the first to he killed
by my poverty. 1t would have beer
better for you if l never had seen yol
in st. Andrews Church.
Then she would answer: "No, in
deed! Our fortune is yet to come on
of that church, Jan"
She said this so often. and with sucl
emphasis, that one day he looked a
her curiously and said:
"Why, Anneken, what do 20,
meanI'
Tomorrow" she answered, "w'
shall see. Jan, it is many year sine
we have taken holiday. We are a
| good as the rest of the world; let N
| live our youth over again; let us sta,
in Antwerp, and at sunset tomorrow
! let us visit st. Andrews Church, AM
stand by the carven pulpit where
"Stuffr' the old man was saying
when the mother put her hand upol
his mouth. lie no longer threatene
or beat her; his punishments had sc
/ bered him; his heart almost yearne
| for his lost son.
by the carven pulpit" continue
the mother. "where we may say