Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1907-10-03
Cortizued

but WQen our eyes u4SI oAS N'O"S~
hers again, as if in fear. Good!
will act just as if l was here ALSO"
resolved.
We were in a tolerably large room
with an arched ceiling, and the light
anne but dbnly in through the deeE
. ecegseg Of the windows. A simple
bed along the wall, writing table
by the window, an arm chair by the
stove, a smoking bench, and little
table with chess-men, clock in al
old-fashioned ornamented case, the
oak table and few chatrs--those
were The contents of the apartment;
severe and simple.
l almost got chilled in the cold
damp room; l raised a window and
let in the warm autumn air; then
took d drinking-cuD from the manteI-
piece and filed it with the wine
which my aunt had thoughtfully put
In my pocket 1t was beautiful cut
glass, on which was an inscription:
"To my friend Heinrich MardefeId.
Prince Christian V. .. B.
Where were the hands which had
once held that glass, the lips which
had moistened themselves with it's
contents? Dead and gone like the
friendshi which prompted the gift.
What is there in the world which is
not destroyed and ruined!
l hesitated to drink; it seemed as
if l would disturb tEe lips of the
dead; then 1 swallowed down the
contents at one guIp. At the taste of
the fiery wine, an almost religious
mood came over me; Madam Poesie
entered, and drawing the couch be-
fore the old writing table, [ spread
the giIt-edged pages out before me. |
settled myself to read,-there was a
slight movement behind me; | turned
my head and looked into Frieda's
eyes. There was a silent pleading in
them, but the delicate lips were
pressed defantly together. l under
stood, however, and quickly asked:
DO you know the contents of these
papers?"
She shook her blonde head in 81
lence. Shall read them aloud?"
She hesitated to answer: I saw her
struggle with herself; then she nodded
and 1t almost seemed as if she was
unwilling to grant me the favor of
listening. She esconced herself again
In the arm chair, and avoiding my
glance looked out upon the dark for
''st; the green twilight made charm
ng surrounding for her slender,
'Rhlte-robed form; the fragrance of
the fir trees streamed in through the
window; the shadows of the leaves
danced in play with the autumn
breeze over the paper; all around
solemn silence reigned, only the thick
of the Wood-WOrms at regular inter
walls, and from the forest the cry of
the ravens And now my eyes sought
the papers upon the table, and l read
as follows:
Sunday before WhitsuntiGe.
Ammo d. 1926.
Before me lies your letter, dearest
Johann, and from each stroke of the
pen beams forth to me the love and
friendship which you give to YOUR
friend, even though long years have
vanished in the past since we have
looked in each others faces. Now
you write Of your wife and children,
and that your eldest daughter has
made you grandfather, and your son
mas become theological candidate.
and that you desire to know how mat
ters are going on with me!
My old friend l could tell it all
with two words; l have never under
stood what it was to be happy.
But see, there outside, nv old
Joyce has a little blonde haired maid
en-, his granddaughter, and she sits
under the linden, in the evening glow,
and sings:
II Is the song which l had lost,
In the checkered course of years.
NOW come to words and the tune
again
And with them the joy I dreamed
of then,
And Kiss my siIYered hair
You certainly never once thought.
Johann, that too could write poetry;
full many a hunters oath has passed
out OF nay mouth but never verse of
poetry, l also thought l never could
originate one, for my tongue has al
ways been a clumsy thing. But within
the t2art it has sometimes strangely
happened that flowers have doomed
and bells have rung, yet they could
not bloom out fully, neither could the
bells be heard; all, if it had been
otherwise; if l could have battered
and laughed, then
You ask after Prince Christian.
our CIristel, We used to call him.
Well, Johann, at the hour of his death
we became friends again. In life we
were separated, Johann, for long. sad
years, and that which stood between
US, was a grave, and the happiness of
our youth lay therein. The wild
pigeons under the linden still keep
cooling, the hend fetch tbem- I'll
just set up and tell them. they must
assemble on the BIocksberg.
They whispered softly of and truth,
How clear ana sweet the melody
was
A song of love so pure,
A Hndenstree the moons pale
CLEAN.