Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1889-05-18
e DEAR OLD WURzBURG."
SCENES IN THE ANCIENT BAyA.
RIAN CITY.
The Record Union Correspondent
Visits Old Places and Old
Friends.

there is chance of great change in that
short period, and never could it be more
noticeable than when you revisit some
foreign country where places and people
were once familiar to you. Germany has
the reputation with US of being a sleepy,
last century country, where nothing is
new, and where old landmarks never
tremble before that iconoclast, Progress.
have just been travelling slowly from
the Baltic Sea to the southern border of
Bavaria, in zigzag fashion, among old
faces and places which knew few years
ago. and find marked change. which,
though it can not but please me, neverthe-
less gives many pang when find what |
once knew as a beautiful meadow, dotted
with cowsfoot and daisies, now covered
with brick and plaster and fenced in by
hungry spectators. To be sure all this
denotes prosperity, but / have so long
loved my poor Germany, with its con-
tented people that this noise and hustle
are like cold water upon serenading
lover.
Berlin has grown beyond all thought,
and Munich has miles of new streets bord-
cred by huge, but poorly built, houses,
from the windows of which, as of yore
from the less pretentious ones, gaze all day
long tow-headed children and fat old
women; or the mirror, with its iron frame,
stretches out into the street rejecting ali
that passes below, SO that the timid, vet
curious, may be satisfied.
DEAR OLD wURZBURG,
With the many spires and the tomb of
Walter Won der Vogelwelde, is changed
with the rest, and now is circled with a
belt of modern buildings illuminated by
electric lights. Modern progress. if it can
be called progress, has even disresarded
that clause in the good poets WILL by which
the birds were to be fed daily, and Vogel-
weide's pets now seek other spots than the
urns upon his grave where their ancestors
chlrped praises TO the dead minnisinger.
l used to live in the attic-room of quiet
little Gasthaus overlooking the market
place, and thither L went, by well-known
ways, past the alley where the bootmaker
lived who made my long boots, which
were 50 very tight, but beautiful to look
upon, past the candle and rosary stall,
where, thank heaven, the same little old
woman was still attending to business, until
l stood before the old sign. The bells in
the Gothic spire of the interchangeable were
Jangling just as they used to when tried
to have quiet halfhour's rest From my
window was looking another, with red
and green cap; his head was bandaged and
he was smoking a pipe, while he hurried
tedious time along by dropping bits of
toaacco upon the yellow head of the house
maid who was cleaning the windows below.
| let him amuse himself at my window
undisturbed, for the housemaid of nv time
had black hair and big eyes-poor fellow,
he probably never dreamed of such a
beauty as Johanna, who washed that very
window seven years ago. | went in. The
old landlord was gone, they told me; he
had failed in peculiar manner, and gone
with the rest to America remember nv
bills always needed a little correcting,
which made them a few marks and odd
pfennigs less, but / did not think him a
bad man. Would l go upstairs? Yes
no. l saw those worn wooden steps were
covered now with red carpet, and went
out into the market-place again. 1t would
be impossible to be long sad in Wurzburg,
with the merry river Main glistenlng in
the sunlight and
THE GAILY DRESSED PEASANTS
Going to their interminable feasts or fasts.
so with fresh heart / started again with
memory as guide. Across the bridge and
under the Church of St. Burkhardt, which
were both begun about the time Columbus
discovered America, | came to the foot
of the hill on which the pilgrimage church
of st. Mary stands. When l first came to
Wurzburg / became acquainted with
man, of about forty years, who was beg
gar and had his station on the way to the
church. His refined face interested me, and
after several meetings learned his story. He
was always alone in the world but mad had
some money left him by his parents; this
he used in obtaining an education, intend
ing to fit himself for teacher. He had
just finished his preparatory course
and was about to enter the University
when he was run over by heavy team
and severely injured, losing his right arm
and being many months confined to his
bed. This accident used up all his little
money; and then follows the simple tale of
discouraged man, unable 10 work and
with an education which, instead of
Tightening, rendered his burden more
heavy; he soon became beggar, and al
lowed by the priests to stand on the path
to the pilgrimage church, gained each day
barely enough to keep him in food. We
had spent some pleasant evenings to-
gether in quiet tavern and | knew that
he would recall those evenings which
mus, have been the brightest spots of his
life. People were making the weary as
cent upon their knees or praying at the
stations. The birds were busy as ever, and
from the summit | had the well-known
view of the Main valley just showing the
touches of spring. Santa Maria ora pro
NobisD was over the door, and within the
church the monks were chanting noon
day prayer.
Everything seemed the same, but my
begger friend was gone. | asked an old
peasant woman if she remembered him,
and if he still had his old station. Yes,
she knew him very we'll; he was rich oh,
so much richer than she who had toiled all
her life, and, would the noble, high-born
gentleman help her? | responded 10 the
call with noble and high-born generosity,
as the old woman expressed it. The one
armed beggar had his station no longer,
he had met with a very great misfortune,
so she said; the priest had told him that
he should not beg any more, so now he
was newspaper carrier and the old dame
shook her head in sympathy with him in
his bad luck. | did not look upon the
change with the same eyes as the woman
and ran merrily down the steps into the
town, thinking ho~ proud the poor fellow
would be to have me find him standing in
a better and honest light At the news
paper office they told me he was dead.
My heart seemed TO stop with the sudden
news. Yes, my one-armed friend of old
had been dead for a month; he was killed
by runaway horse, an accident similar TO
that which had thirty years or so before
crippled him for life. ! visited his grave
which had a stone, purchased by money
he had put aside for his burial expenses.
On the grave, close to the cold. gray slab,
lay small bunch of violets (rarities at
this time of the year. quite fresh, as if
Just placed there. wonder if my friend
told me all his story; may he now have
peace, ais life was bitter and sunless.
THINGS HAD CHANGED.
There was quaint, little tavern called
"The Wild Man." where / used to 90, and
there | turned again, after SO many years,
under the dingy sign. The guest-room
xra. tho game az eyer the same srt,ot oil