Northern Ohio journal. [volume] (Painesville, Ohio) 1872-1896, 1880-05-15

TAKE q vile from w aInalla! ne CTlcu,
Ing excitedly, looking at her aud not caring
that the whole village saw his look. III
come back for the girl l love.'' He fancied
that the shy eyes had caught the fire from his |
own and answered with sudden flash.
Hans thought SO, too; his pipe went out in |
his mouth. When she rose to go home he took |
the heavy boy out of her arms and walked be
side her. Heller's shrill voice sounded behind
them like vehement fife!
Success-money-mon
Hans looked anxiously down into her face !
They are good things she said, very
good things.n
dropped Phil in the cradle in the kitchen, and
then came out and led Christine down to the
garden of his own house.
What was London-money, to home: Surely
she must see that! He led her slowly past the
well-built barn and piggeries, past the bee
hives hidden behind the cherry-trees, and seat
ed her on the porch. He thought these things
would speak for him. Hans cung as closely to
his home as Phil yonder to his mothers breast.
But Christine looked sullen.
Hans said nothing.
"a man should not be satisfied with kitch-
en- garden" she said sharply.
They sat on the porch steps The night air
was warm and pure the moon hung low over
the rice fields to the left, throwing fantastic
shadows that chased each other like noiseless
ghosts as the wind swayed the grain. To the
right, beyond the valley, the mountains pierced
the sky. They were all so friendly, but dumb
dumb as himself. If they could only speak
anu say OI HOW llCLIc dcCOuiIb ufOHCN was, allCi
all! It seemed to Hans as if they were always
just going to speak!
But Christine did not look at sky, or mount
aims, or sleeping valley. She looked at the
gravel at her feet, and gave it little kick.
"No doubt George Heller will succeed l
hope he will, too!'' she said, vehementy. "1fa
man has thc real stuff in him let him show it
to the world! I'll go home now, MIR. Becht"
That evening Hans violin was silent. lie
used to play until late in the night; but he was
sharpening his long unused knives, with a pale
face. He, too was beginning a Flight into
Egypt: ,-oo,,s .ror,onao,s
whiting went on in Walhalla. Some old fel-
lows, who had never cut anything but paper
knives and match boxes, were fired with the
universal frenzy. Why should not Stein, the
cobbler, or Fritz, the butcher, chip his way to
wealth, fame and London: There is not a
| butcher or cobbler of us all who does not Sc
cretly believe himself genius equal to the
| best-barred down by circumstance. George
Heller kept his work secret, but he was nightly
| stirred by it in soul and body. Twice, in a
| rage, he broke the panel into bits, and came
out pale and covered with perspiration; he
| walked about muttering to himself like one in
| dream; he went to Godfrey STEMS inn and
drank wine and brandy, and then more brandy,
| and forgot to pay. Genius is apt to leave the
| lesser virtues in the lurch. He kicked the
| dogs out of the way, cursed the children, and
was insolent to his old father who still fed and
clothed him.
| Stein. " But he's got the true artist soul. He'll
winl Now if anybody knew the world it was
i Godfrey Stein.
| Nobody thought Hans Becht would win but
his old mother. She was sure of it. She sat
beside him with her knitting, talking all the
| time. Why did he not give himself more time
The rice-ield must be foodeds Let the rice
| go this year. He spent three hours in the cot
| ton this morning. And what with fodderine
the stock, and rubbing down even the pigs
-. What we're cotton and pigs to this
i chance. 1t would come but once lifetime:
,s14 f.rn frxNvr n
rice and cotton, sat by the window and cut,
1 cut, aud whistled softly. The door of tho
kitchen stood open, and the chickens came
picking their way on to the white floor.
swift stream OF water ran through the millet
field and across the garden, shining in the sun
The red rhododendrons nodded over it, and
the rowan bushes, scarlet with berries. Be
yond the millet field, there was rampant o
rolling hills, bronzed with the early frost; bu
here blazed the crimson leaves of the shonieho
and there cucumber tree thrust its open gold
| en- fruit, studded with scarlet seeds, through
the dull background. Beyond this risins
ground were the peaks, indistinct as gra,
shadows, holding up the sky.
4 Sometimes Mother Becht caught Hans will
his knife idle, looking at these far off heights
or at the minnows glancing through the brool
near at hand. There was great pleasure il
his eyes.
5. You are fool to throw away your time,
she cried. " Can you cut that red weed or tn
sky into your wood! You could not even pain
| them.''
.ss God forbid that anybody should try,
thought Hans.
stStick to your work! work counts. TIL
. things that count in the world are those whic
,, | push you up among your neighbOrs."
Hans began to cut tip to Joseph's nose.
"The things which count in the world
! very slowly. His blind father sat outside i
the sun; he came in every hour or two to hea
how the work was going on, and then went t
. Schopf's shop to report. His wife told hir
: : ceed.
"Joseph is good, and Mary is very fine,'' sh
! ! said. But the mule is sincOmparable. If yo
could only see the mule! When Hans goes t
London do you think he will take us at one,
or send for us in the spring! l think it woul
! ! be safer to cross the ocean in the spring. Br
. it will not matter to cabin-passengcrs no stee
= : age for us, then, father! He will be takin
!, "Eha How's that. Three:''
\ Christine" sh', said, with signfcaI
= = chuckle. 80, she'll be glad enough to take OF
Hans, then! She's had to work her finge
| to the bone. She knows the weight of flu
9" Hans is welcome to bring her home wheth
10 he wins or not,' said Father Bccht : He earn
the loaf and it's big enough for four. There
not sweeter voice in Walhalla than Chris
= : Vogeps."
T 'sshe's well enorgh,'' said Mrs. Becht, ca
tiously. "Vogels tobacco brought half ce
in the pound more than ours and it was Chri
/ tines raising and drying. Her beers fair, to
e I've tasted it, She went in and talked
Hans. % Only win, and Christine will mar
X you. She'll follow the full purse.n
"She'll follow the nmn she loves, and that
~ not L. thought Hans, and he stopped whis
= ling His mothers voice sounded on, clio
a click.
:; "When We are rich-when we are in Londt
"a when we drive in a carriage-n
ls "She, too?" he considered, looking o
:. thoughtfully above him at the fat farmland
> the pleasant house, the eheery fire, and th'
= away to the scarlet rowan burning in the brow
~ underground, and the misty, heayen-reachil
~ heights
II Even his mother counted these things
= ,e nothing beside fame, London, money. w
ic he then mad a fool!
lse Nobody thought he would win. Yet, cvel
- body stopped to look in the window with ''goo
u luck, Hans!''
.. 'See what favorite you arc, my lad'' So
" his mother. "There's not man WON
~ ~ in Walhalla to whom you have nottlone a kin
III ness.@ Do you think the Lord does not knt
you deserve success! If He does not give v
the prize instead of that drunken Heller. ther,
G no Justice in heavent''
, At last the Englishman returned. The
4 Y. cisi0n was to be made that night. Hans h
=. l. finished his panel that very day. He did L
ty know whether it was bad or good. He h
10 cut away at it as faithfully as he had rubh
u down his pigs. He wrapped it up that event
and went down to the inn, stopping at Voge
e ON the way. The old people were at the We
s, Christine had cooked the supper, MIXED
s' COWS, and now she was up in her chamber sit
s, ing little Phil to sleep.
ck Her voice came down to Hans below full
nc passion and sadness.
"a "Who is it she loves III that way?h he VIC
u dered. He stood in the path of the little va
OF listening. Heller, coming. across the str,
ne eyed the square-jawed, heavy figure. What
III awkward figure it was, to be sure. How I
linen clothes bagged about it He glane
ee down at his own natty little legs and shini
ss boots, and tossed his head ierkily. He carr
en- his panel wrapper in cloth, and came in, bar
an ing the gate after him.
ct I" Is that you Becht! Been whiting, toe
u he said, with an insolent cluckle.
n Hans looked at him steadfastly, not heari
a word that he said. Was it Heller she love
O. If he were sure of it, he would not spea
1u word for himself. No matter what became
lir him, if she were content. He was hurt to
It core.
On Christine came down. She wore some st
dy of pale blue, and had fastened Ii bur ch of W
roses in her bosom. She was SO silent q
Ut cold with both the young men that one COZ
hardly believe that it was the woman who /
ng sung with such passionate longing over
'r- child.
al "Now you shall see my panel!" cried Hell
ed nervously adjusting his spectacles. He Sc
pr on the bench and dragged off the cloth.
sy "Ah-h!'' cried Christine, clasping her han
st then she turned anxiously to Hans.
,e Hans was not ready with his words. His o
sn en- filed with tears. He laid his hand on Hent
ie shoulder with hearty goodwill. The "