The Hickman courier. [volume] (Hickman, Ky.) 1859-current, 1881-12-16
COMPENSATION.

COMPENSATION.
each. / have no letter from home
We were sitting, Herr Schenning ant
/, in the shade of some young redWoods
far up in the mountain side, haF1l'e
straycd a little from our own band OF
picnickers. The trees, scarce moving IL
the light breeze, dropped their long
shadows down the grassy slope, where,
in the sunny places, the yellow butter
flies fitted in and ont among the purple
lilies. The madrOnas spread their broad
and shining leaves to the sun, delight.
ing IN its fervent heat, and making cool
shades where the deer might rest when
there were no picnickian revels TO desc
crate their solitude Through our sym
pathy with this beautiful spirit OF soh-
tude there had fallen upon us long ST.
lence.
" What news have you from home
l asked Herr Schenniug at last, merely
by way of saying something.
Without a movement of a muscle TO
show that he had heard me, he continued
to gaze NJ the mountains, or rather lar
beyond them, to some white clouds
slowly sailing through the blue. l was
about TO repeat my question, but paused,
seeing the color deepen on his dark Ger
man lace, and presently, with a great
sob, as the fiood-gates burst, came the
cry:
Ach, I have no letter from home =
He buried his face IN his hands, and
with dismay l saw the swlft-falling tears
slip through his fingers, but the storm
was as brief as it was intense. Herr
Schenniug was not one to give way to
maudlin grief.
You must think I am a glittering
idiot, hesaid, rs lie laughingly shook tie
last tears from his fingers.
NO, answered 81 think You are
homesick, and l know the misery OF that
malady.'
'sYes In fact, 1 had a sudden and
oyerpowering attack of it. Your qGes-
ton was a drop added to my hearts full
cup. That tree pointing to a fir tree
that lowered to the sky), with its great
waving and whispering bOughs, had
borne me far through yonder calm sky
to the Fatherland. 1 was a boy again,
and had strayed TO my fayOritefir tree at
the edge of the forest rocked IN its
branches, l heard the wild songs of the
woodland ; l saw the silver cleaning of
Murg flowing down the Rhine 1 saw
the blooming orchards, the bird Ia ttsI tad
grove and the little white house Of
Blumenwald. The fragrance of its
flower garden came to me across the
meadow, and L knew who walked there,
wearing in her golden HAIR the blue flow
ers that / loved-my little Barbara. l
cannot remember the time when L did
not love her, and think of her as mine.
For her [ studied and struggled and
won my schOol-day prizes Tor her L
sought to make myself wise and hon
ored for her sake, who had no
gold for her dover, only her
sweet self more precious to me
than all the gold of Cahtorn.a-Heaven
knows too precious, l thought, TO be de-
graded by the slavery of our old-wOrld
lfe of poverty-for her dear sake l put
aside her little clinging hands and kissed
her pleading mouth, and came away to
this great, golden land of America. l,
so wise with my Latin and Greek, so
skillful in metaphysics, so deep IN all
the subtle science of the old-world's
savan Is, came to California to make my
fortune. l laugh to think how / have
groped and stumbled IN the broad be-
wildering light of this splendid young
world, while those who can scarcely
write the plebeian names they bear Dig
into the mysterious earth and lift their
hands glittering with treasure. At home,
1 might have walked with Princes.
Here, poor, ill-clad-shall L say 1t p
sometimes weak with hunger, [ wander
uncared for, except when some gentle
heart like yours brings me, for pity OF
my loneliness, into pleasant day like
this. But forgive me for showing you
such broken spirit.
Broken Oh, dear r. 1 exclaimed,
struggling wildly with my tears. L
should think it would be like that OF
Mrs. Plovinst's father, pulverized,
crushed quite out of you. "Her Schen-
ming" ] added, abruptly, "why don
you put your pride in your pocket and
90 home ?"
He laughed.
"Alas my pockets are too small, and,
beside, it would not be accepted for fare.
No, L have committed suicide; I have no
place, there or here. If 1 should one
day slip from these sun-loved heights
into some black abyss, where even the
starlight fails, should not be missed -
"What !" / said, "not even by little
Barbara, who is waiting for you in her
Blumenwald ?"
Heaven " he cried, in another ex-
cess of depair, "there is no one waiting
for me. Think you such a fool, such a
beggar as l should be worth that No,
the father was right he did well to
marry her to Herr Heimsteher, whose
broad orchards stretch to the verge of
our loved forest. Frau Barbara is rich.
l trust, and happy, with her fair-haired
children clustering at her knee. If she
ever gives thought to the lover who
left her so long ago, 1t is to smile at the
airy-liSe future he promised her, though
l dare to hope that sometimes, when the
voice of my tir tree comes to her through
5he twilight, or when she plucks those
blue flowers from her garden, she will
remember me with little throb of the
old love. God bless her-and pity a
poor wretch like me
The fir tree waved its long arms In the
treshenlng breeze the shadows crept
up from the gorges and spread along the
hillsides, as if seeking him who had
spoken of their dark retreats the bold
outline of the Palisades showed stern
and frowning against the sky, but the
face of st. Helena, grand and sweet
lay smiling toward the west, waiting for
the sunset glory and the solemn starit
night.
How it could have happened to the
ever-splendid Ulrich and myself to lose
our way, l cannot imagine, but We
achieved that brilliant feat. DRIVING
quite by ourselves in the rear of the
small picnicing procession, we fell into
further talk of California WAYS. was
trying to impress Meinherr with the fact
that he was too young to call his life
failure; that no one, at any age, in Cali
fornia, need despair. unless he lay down