The age-herald., 1898-11-20
.UNREST .....
(A Translation From the German.)

| i When a little girl she stood by the road waited to her feet the white blossoms from neighboring blackthorn bushes; the insects chirped and hummed in the fresh grass around her, but she did not see, did not
 hear.
 Her eye hung on the mistclad mountain;
 so near and yet so fari An, if she could
 ward them, and ran across the field, scarcely breathing. Exhausted, she stopped
 to rest for moment, pressing her glowing
 cheek against the bark of cherry tree.
 Then again she ran on-on!
 Late in the evening her parents found her asleep by the wayside. T wanted to go to the blue mountains. she sobbed.
 when awakened, but I could not reach
 them.''
 She grew to maidenhood; the longing for distant wonders grew with her. When oth- CTS told of their travels she grew silent and turned pale. She could not hear the names of Rome Venice, Naples, but the tears l would rise.
 Every spring when the soft breezes blew, and the birds of passage sailed past far above her, the wild longing of her heart rolled its surges in upon her. With burning eyes and feverish cheeks she would wander | TtsIeSSiy tOT WtehS lOBeIneT
 The shabbiest little room in the house she had begged for her own. Her sisters 1 laughed at her, but she knew what made | her little garret chamber so dear. From it's 1 windows she could see. beyond the little town the high road which stretched into l endless distance where the tallest trees be- came mere black dots.
 She could see the wagons and carriages | roll to and fro, and when during the night | the bugle of the postilion sent its trem- | bling tones into her little roof chamber, then her soul trembled in unison The passing years brought her to woman hood. One mild summer evening found her walking at the side of her lover, her cheeks all agiow.
 70, to wander by thy side forever. with out pause, to the end of the worldp' Smiling, he drew her down beside him on messy bank NO, beloved. we will not wander. Thou shalt teach me the joys and happiness of home. There let us dwell and build our little nest" Silently she leaned against him and he kissed the tears from her lashes; tears of which he did not know the source. | On their wedding day, beaming with joy, | he led his young wife into their home. "1s | 1t not more beautiful. dear one. to spend ones first happy hours in one's own home | than to waste them abroad among stran- | gers? See, sweetheart. there by the win | dow thy little work table. From there thou shalt govern like a careful little house. wife"
 For a moment she thoughtfully gaZed l upon the magnificent stream below, with it's boats and barges, its steamships and sail- l ing vessels, on one side the railroad, op posite the smooth pike with it's ceaseless throng: then she gently shook her head l No, not here; let us choose another nook :! for me-
 Docs not the view please thee?' | "It torments me. could not do my duty 1 had the wandering stream, the wandering | boats, the restless men, ever in my sight | and-and wish to be a good wife to you" | Deeply touched, he embraced her. "Dost l thou really so long for the distance? Just wait, little one; next year when we shall l have grown accustomed to this place, then | will show you the world.' The next year-there lay a bue-eyed | baby in the cradle whom she sang to rest | with her song of longing. "A child is best 1 at home" She knew it well. and there
 fore did not desire to accompany her hus- | band when his profession called him out in- to the world. Nor could she go with him. l when suddenly before her baby had reached boyhood he began the great journey from | which none return.
 Now her life centered around her boy; for him she saved, for him she worked. Her longing had awakened an echo in his heart. His eye roved with ardent desire beyond the boundaries of the fatherland. and what his eye, athirst for beauty, saw, that his hand had skill to retain in all it's charm. Evening after evening mother and son would chat of the time when the young | artist would visit distant lands in search | of honor and fame.
 "When I shall travel mother, thou must | bear me company" She only smiled at | him and saved and saved.
 | But the penny-pile grew but slowly; and l when the time came, the fund would pay | for one, not two, and the boy went on his | Journey.
 "Only for little while I'll leave thee be- hind mother dear! In a few years I shall return for thee. Then thou shalt see the beauties of the earth"
 Kind was the world to the youth. Honor l and gold were his Soon. mother. soon I shall come for thee," he wrote in every letter
 when the unrest left him, ''I will build a house." said he, "such as shall please my artist soul then shall bring mother"
 But when the house was finished a pair
 of dark eyes gazed into his own. and push ed far, far away thoughts of all else.
 Thus he stood one day on height by the
 sea, and looked down upon the city at his
 feet. The faint sound of church bell
 reached his ear while above his head
 flew bird of passage
 Mother a voice within him suddenly
 cried. Mother I am coming!"
 At home a letter awaited him. Twas
 from his mother "Do not let me wait too
 long, my son." she wrote, "e!sa I shall
 have to start on my journey without you
 Three days and the son stood at his
 mothers side; stood and looked down on
 the frail fingers crossed on her bosom,
 looked on her brow where dwelt the maj
 csty of death; about her lips played smile
 from which all torment. all bitterness of
 unsatisfied longing had disappeared in the
 realization of the happiness which awaited
 her in the beautiful beyond.
 He sank down upon his knees beside her
 who now needed him no longer. Without
 him she had started forth on her first jour
 ney, the great journey which satisfied the
 most longing heart, and lends pinions to
 the fettered soul.
 Lony hB: .1. roocD Exfr,