The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1884-03-29
Select Storp.
KARL DORMER'S DREAM.

Far away in Germany, near little vii
lage called Rosenthal, the crumbling, ivy
crowned ruin of convent, from which the
village takes its name, rears its broken
columns above the weir which sweeps past,
and in the declining suns rays buries in
deep shade the cottage at its base and casts
long shadows across the stream to meet
those of the trees that grow on the oppo-
site bank and mirror themselves in wavy
lines in the water below. In the days when
priests read their masses and troops of black
robed nuns chanted hymns of praise, before
cruel war had come to rob them of their
peace and opulence, and laundering cannon
had shattered the noble fortress, the cot
tage had been the lodge of the gate-keeper,
and as much of the masonry still remaining
corresponded with that of the stately pile
itself, the modern repairs and additions
would have made the rambling old place
grotesque indeed but for the kindly vines
which wandered up its walls and buried
the roof in a bower of bloom. Here dwelt
Karl Dormer, his wife and daughter, and
all day long Karl worked his garden, save
when his love of rest took possession of
him, which his good frau much deplored,
and made him abandon his spade and seek
a cool resting place beneath the shadow of
some friendly tree to muse over the grand
eur of times past and the WEAKNESS of his
toll filled everyday life.
Mother and daughter kept the cottage as
clean as hands could make it, as the snow
white sanded floors and shining rows of
pots and pans testified, and in the wide
vine-wreathed porch sat and spun their flax,
which labor went to fill up the linen chests
in readiness for the time when pretty Dora
should become bride.
Content had been constant dweller in
the little home until blooming Dora and
Fritz, the son of neighbor Rheinhardt, after
the manner of young people, fell in love.
Neighbor Rheinhardt was well-to-do and
all in all good natured man, but his con-
sent could not be won to the marriage of
his son with penniless maid, and poor
Karl had no dowry to give his daughter,
and what made it harder for him to bear,
he was told by his kind friends that his
lack of thrift was the cause of his poverty.
He was sadly conscious that it was true,
and of this he was thinking as he struck
viciously among the cabbage as though he
would wreak vengence upon their unoffen-
ding heads for his own misdeeds. Karl
dug away and puzzled his brains where the
money was to come from which should re-
store the roses to the cheeks and smiles
and song to the lips of his blue-eyed, gold
en-haired child, the pride and joy of his
heart But he could not study out this
problem and hoe cabbages at the same time,
so he laid down his spade, and, avoiding
the watchfnl eye of his wife, stretched him
self on the grassy banks of the weir to plan
and mediate. His thoughts went back to
the time when Gretchen was fair and bloom
ing and sight of her made his heart thump
hard against his jacket, and how miserable
they would haye been had cruel parentsepa-
rated their young and loving hearts. The
retrospect of his twenty years of married
life showed him nothing to regret in the
winning of the maid of his choice, though
she had at times been little sharp of
tongue; but then he needed that to prevent
his indolent habits becoming his master.
Yes, he had been very happy, and he sin
cerely pitied the young people, though he
was powerless to help them. As he lay
pondering with half-closed eyes, listening
to the drowsy hum of the bees and the
murmur of the waters at his feet, his thouhts
unconsciously framed themselves into words:
''Dora must have a dowry, but where is
it to come from2"
II cln tell you" said voice at his side.
Karl was startled-for he thought him
self alone-to see a stranger standing be-
side him, little old man who smiled
pleasantly as he continued. eyes, | can
tell you how to get your daughters dowry."
"Your' was all Karl could answer.
''Goto the bridge which crosses the Rhine
between the cities of Ludwighaven and
Mannheim, and there you will find your
luck, and the old man turned away with
out another word while Karl was too much
astonished to follow him, but kept repeat
ing: "Dora will have dowry. My child
will be happy
Sam l not always happy, dear father?"
said a clear, girlish voice. "Come, you
have been asleep again and mother is wait.
ing the supper for you.
"But where is the old man ?" said Karl,
sitting up and rubbing his eyes and looking
stupidity about him.
"Oh, you have been dreaming again,
said Dora; "there is no one here but me.
Karl rose to his feet and followed his
daughter silently to the cottage, where
Gretchen upbraided him for wasting his
time when he should have been at work,
and then allowing the porridge to get cold
while he was sleeping.
When the meal was finished he lit his
pipe and sat down before the cottage door,
but he could not Danish from his mind what
the old man had told him in his dream.
That night, for the first time in his life, he
could not sleep. 1t was almost day when
he fell into troubled slumber, and then
the same old man whom he had seen by
the weir came to him again and repeated
the words. t'Go to the bridge which cross
es the Rhine between the cities of Ludwig
haven and Mannheim, and there you will
find your luck"
All that day Karl could neither eat nor
work, for his whole mind was absorbed by
his dream, yet he was afraid to tell his wife
what he had on his mind. But that night
the dream came again, He had not much
superstition, but he believed in the charm
of the number three and he could no longer
keep it to himself. Gretchen laughed at
him for letting his fancy wander away over
silly dreams, but Dora, who had handsome
Fritz in her mind, implored Karl to go to
the bridge and test the truth of the old
mans words.