The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1882-08-26
KASPAR AND THE CLOCK.
A German Boys Adventure.

81 was only watching the wheels 90
round, father" said a sturdy little fel-
low in a soiled leathern Jacket, starting
up with mischievous look in his blue
eyes
And what hast thou to do with the
wheels, Ell? Suppose this clock is
stopped or put wrong some day by one
of thy tricks, what shall l, Hans Schell-
er, custodian of St. Martins Church,
say to the Town Council? Dost thou
know what birch porridge is, thou
rogue? Beware, or pll give thee such
taste of it as shall make thee 90 round
faster than the Wheels
Poor Hans was, indeed, kept in con-
slant terror by his inquiring son. I'M
comfortable habit of going wherever he
ought not The old Church of ST. Mart
in was a famous playground for any
boy, with its shadowy aisles, and count
less pillars, and tall towers. and deep
inches, and half-ruined batticmentS; and
the worthy custodian, when he awoke
from his after-dinner nap in his little
room at the foot of the great clock tow
er, never knew whether he should find
his hopeful boy hiding behind the altar
screen, trying to blow the organ bel
lows, playing -and-seek among the
pinnacles of the roof, or sitting astride
of a carved spout hundred and sixty
feet above the pavement.
All this, however, might have been
forgiven, for the old custodian was
really as fond of his "little rogue" as
the boy, with all his wildness, was of
him. But the one thing that Hans
could not pardon was the danger caused
by his sons restless inquisitiveness to
his beloved church clock. 1t was his
pride and glory to be able to tell every
one that during the whole forty years
that he had been in charge of the est.
Martins Kirche," the clock had never
stopped or gone wrong; and nothing
would convince him that it was not by
far the finest clock in the whole world
don't tell me OF the big clock of
Strasburg Cathedral" he would say,
with an obstinate shake of hts gray head.
Gould IL go forty years on end think
you, without the slightest deviation?
No, that it couldn't, nor any other
clock on the face of the earth except
this one.'
Mindful of Kaspar's inquiring turn
of mind, his father, having to do some
marketing in the town the day after
our hero's stolen visit to the clock,
locked the door of the tower, and took
the key along with him.
"No harm can happen now," he
muttered; land, in any case, | shall be
back before he gets out of school"
But, as ill-luck would have it. the
taonl,or ballad nv hIISi
ness that afternoon, and the boys got
out of school more than an hour earlier
than usual. Kaspar, finding his father
gone, went straight to the door of the
clock tower, and looked rather blank
on discovering that it was locked. But
he was not one to be easily stopped
when he had once made up his mind.
Getting out upon the roof, and crawling
along a cornice where only a cat or q
schoOl-boy could have found footing,
he crept through an air-hole right into
the clOck-room.
For some time he was as happy as a
child in a toy shop, running from one
marvel to another, until at length he
discovered another hole, and thrustng
his head through it, found himself look
ing down upon the mark et-place through
the face of the clock itself. But when
he tried to withdraw his head again, it
would not come.
1t was such queer scrape to be in
that Kaspar was more inclined TO laugh
than to be frightened; but suddenly a
thought struck him which scared him
in earnest: his neck was in the track of
the minute hand which, when it
reached him, must inevitably tear his
head off!
Poor Kaspar! it was too late now to
wish that he had left the clock alone.
He tried to scream for help, but with
his neck in that cramped position, the
cry that he gave was scarcely louder
than the chirp of a sparrow. He strug-
gled desperately to writhe himself back
through the hole; but piece of the
woodwork had slipped down upon the
back of his neck, and Aeld him like a
wise.
On came the destroyer, nearer and
nearer still, marking off with its meas
ured tick his few remaining moments
of life. And all the while the sun was
shining gayly, the tiny flags were flut-
tering on the booths of the market and
the merry voices of his school-fellows
who were playing in the market place
came family to his ears, while he hung
there helpless, with Death stealing upon
him inch by inch. His head grew diz-
zy, and the measured beat of the tick
ing sounded like the roll of a muffled
drum. while the coming hand of the
clock looked like a monstrous arm out
stretched to seize him, and the carved
faces on the spouts seemed to grin and
gibber at him in mockery. And still
the terrible hand crept onward, nearer,
nearer, nearer.
"What can that thing in the clock
face beP' said a tourist below, pointing
his spy-glass upward. "Whv, [ declare