West-Jersey pioneer., 1877-01-11
"But you don't always have this fog ?"

"Always."
"That's the reason, then, that your fruit
trees don't bear. Why, in Marisfeld they
have to prop up the branches, there's such
a plenty this year."
Gertrude answered no further, but walk
ed at his side silently through the village,
until they reached the outer limits. On
the way she often nodded pleasantly to
/ some child, or spoke few low words to
/ some young girl, perhaps about the dance
or the ball dress.
The girls cast very kindly glances upon
the young painter, and he himself felt. he
scarcely knew why, certain warmth about
the heart; but he did not dare say so to
/ Gertrude.
Finally they reached the very last houses,
though the village was full of life. The
gardens looked as if they had not been trod-
den for years; long grass grew in the paths;
and it seemed particularly strange that the
fruit trees should every one be barren.
Now they met people coming toward
them, and Arnold Immediately recognized
| the returning funeral train. 1t moved
silently past them again into the village,
and involuntarily they turned their steps
toward the burying ground.
Arnold tried to cheer up his companion,
who seemed very sad. He spoke to her of
other places where he had been, and de-
scribed how the outside world looked. She
had never seen railroad, nor even heard of
| one, and listened to Arnold description at
tentive and astonished. Neither had she
any notion of the telegraph, nor of any of
the new inventions, and the young painter
could not understand how it was possible
that there could be living in Germany peo-
pie so completely cut off from the rest of
the world. -,sf --rtr f-trr s.
Talking in this way, they reached the
graveyard, and the young painter was
struck with the antique stones and monu-
ments, although they were all perfectly
plain and simple.
''That is very old stone, ;" he said, bend
ing over the nearest one, and with difficulty
deciphering the twisted letters.
ANNA MARIA BBRTHoLD, born STIEaIITz
Born December l, 11SS;
died December 2, 1924
"That is my m other" said Gertrude, seri-
ously, and two great shining tears welled
up to her eyes and rolled down slowly upon
her dress
''Your mother my good child" exclaim-
ed Arnold, astonised-''o ''one of your great
great -grandmothers, it might have been''
'No," said Gertrude, Tiny own mother
My father married again, and the one at
home is my step-mother."
''But doesn't it say died 1924 ?''
''The year is nothing to me,' said Ger
trude, sadly. "It is hard to be separated
from ones mother; aud yet." she added,
softly and sorrowfully, sit was we'll perhaps
that she went to God before it happened
Arnold shook his head, and bent over the
stone to examine the inscription more close
ly, and see if the first in the date might
not be an 8, which the antique lettering
made not unlikely. But no; the other
was exactly like the first, and we haven't
yet reached 1884. Perhaps the stone-cutter
had made mistake. The girl was SO
absorbed in thinking of her dead mother
that he would not disturb her with ques-
tions; so he left her at the stone, where she
had sunk down, softly praying, and went
on to examine some of the other monuments.
All, without exception, bore date many
hundred years back-even as far as $50 and
900 A. D. He found no newer stones, and
yet burials were even now made there, as
the last entirely fresh grave testified.
From the low church wall was an excel
lent view Of the old village and Arnold i'm
mediately seized the opportunity to make a
sketch. Over this place, also, hung the
strange fog or smoke, and yet farther to-
ward the wood he could see the sun shining
clear and bright upon the mountain slope
Again the old cracked bell rang in the
village, and Gertrude, standing up quickly
and brushing the tears from her eyes, beck
oned pleasantly to the young man to follow
her.
Arnold was at her side in an instant.
said, smiling; "they are ringing church
out, and now comes the dance. You must
have thought the people of Germelshausen
very dull and stupid, but this evening you
shall find just the contrary
eyes; but over there is the church door,"
Arnold said, 'and l see nobody coming
out"
"That's very likely" answered the girl,
laughing, 'because nobody goes in, not
even the priest; but the old sacristan gives
himself no rest, and rings church out and
in"
And none of you 60 to church ?"
"No; neither to mass nor confession,"
she replied, calmly. 'We are at variance
with the Pope, who lives in far country,
and he will not allow it until we obey him
again"
"But have never in my life heard any
thing about it."
"Indeed we'll, it happened SO very long
ago." said the girl, carelessly. 'Look,
there's the sacristan coming out of the |
church, all alone, and shutting the door,
He doesn't go to the tavern in the evening,
but sits at home all by himself"
"And does the priest 60 ?''
81 should think so /! He's the merriest /
of all; he doesn't take it to heart.''
"And how did all this happen ?'' asked
Arnold, less surprised at the curious state.
ments than at the girls artlessness.
otis a long story replied Gertrude,
s'and the priest has written it all down in a
great thick book. If it would amuse you,
and if you know Latin, you can read the
book. But she added warningly, ''don't |
speak of it before my father, because it |
vexes him. See, here are the young men
and girls coming out of tho houses already, !
and l must hurry to get home and dress,
for 7 zou1dp,% lilo 70 bo he 10