New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1917-09-23

"a
49,, before the war (Ah, God, can It beO
- 70 sleep and eat and laugh in your
r.-nan homes, as you slept and ate and
,.rsbed in our English homes, have mem
oL,s Of little domestic scenes In Germany
sh,ch were sufficient to prove 1t. Two or
49,. such memories come back to me now,
"A not all the fiery passions that have
,,,,s up the sweetness Of the years be-
,v.sn can quite blscken the tender grace
Of them.
Tbs first is Of a Christmas Eve spent In
4. house Of beautiful young German
-,rsn with three or four sweet young
A;dren. Like Ibsen's little mother, she
IA spent the morning in mysterious jour
,xr, to the village shops, IN smuggling
,tr,nre looking parcels into the house, and
/, certain solitary occupations in the draw
:, room. But toward the early dusk Of
a. winter day the blinds were pulled
i,ru. the folding doors were thrown open,
,,d then the little people, dressed up in
vb,., tingling with excitement, and hold
"a, zach others hands, were allowed to 60
as to some magic cave, with our black
,ss.d contingent Of older folk following
ID the rear.
a Christmas Fairyland
In Germany
There, In the middle Of the floor, stood
n. Christmas tree, glittering with red and
p,, candles all alight, glistening with
hackers. laden with toys, and crowned
With the welcoming face Of the Christmas
Nan. And there, too, was the young
mother herself, waiting and watching with
..cer ewes for the wonder and JOY in the
.r.. Of her children. After the first mo-
m,,ts Of breathless awe were over and
nstille Nacht, heilige Nacht," had been
sung, she called on the governess to play
something on the piano. Then there was
-omn round the tree, the young mother
taking the hands Of her youngest on either
side, and all laughing and shrieking with
delight, stood in the open doorway, re-
member. and If there was anything more
moving for me in the fairy-like scene than
the happiness Of the children, it was the
searching sense Of the mother-heart throb-
hing through and through it.
The second Of the memories that come
hack to me is Of the same home OF happl-
ness q few hours later. After various
carols. sung in silvery child voices at the
lack of the dining room door, the house
was silent. and with noiseless footsteps we
we're creeping upstairs behind the young
mother 10 the darkened chamber where
her golden headed treasures lay asleep.
There thew were under the blinking night
light, looking soft and white as milk, each
in her little cot, which was banked up
with dolls and orange and chocolate boxes
in such positions that they must be the
first things seen by the little sleeper when
The opened her eyes in the morning. ms
was another and yet more touching scene
out of fairyland, and it had the same sense
Of the mother-heart throbbing through ana
through it.
Other Scenes, in Which German
Mothers Play the Wolf
And now, with hot and quiverlng
beart, I think Of other scenes In England
which seem to say, rightly or wrongly, that
the German mother who loves her own SO
tenderlv can be moro cruel to the children
q the English mother than the wolf 10 the
wheps Of the fox-dam.
In the spring Of the present year a
Laboring man who lived In cottage on the
edge Of little holiday town on our SOUTH
east coast, was smoking his last pipe late
at night before going to bed, when shell
from a German destroyer on the dark sea
outside struck the upper story where MS
wife and children lay asleep. Amid the
carsh Of falling timbers he reached the foot
Of the broken stairway and called up to his
wife. There was at first no answer, ana
then out of the darkness came frightened
cry from his little daughter, five years OF
age, Come down, dearie," he called. i
can't, daddie, I'm hurt" chied the chiid'
The distracted man clambered up TO the
child, carried her to the outer door OF his
house, told her to find her way, if she could,
70 her grandmother's down the street, ana
then returned to look for her mother ana
baby brother in the bedroom above "heh
he found them they were dead.
Three weeks ago, toward noon OF a
heavenly summer day. In an infant school
in East London, hundred children, rang
ing in ages from three years to six, were
singing their last lesson before the time
came to scamper home in childish glee to
their midday meal, when out OF the sun
shine of the sky two bombs fell from a
German air machine and killed ten OF them
and wounded fifty. The scene was a
irightful shambles. Some Of the children
we're destroyed beyond all recognition
their sweet limbs being splashed Ike a