Indiana State Sentinel, Indianapolis, Marion County, 18 December 1889 — Page 3

THE INDIANA STATE SENTINEL, WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 18, 188a

A CHRISTMAS STORY.

THE HERMIT IN THE FOREST. Translated from the German of Ottilie Wildermnth by Uertrude A. Mahorney.J "When a city or a village stands near us, Ihere, we think, it mnat have been from the beginning. All that the oldest people know from their grandparents is that Marbach or Steinheim has always Btood where it does, and so it will continue to itand. Scarcely one old chronicle tells ua how first; here or there a knight built hid castle or good monks a cloister and a church; how then gradually farmers, workmen and trades-people settled there until at last there was a little village or a city, around which they made walls and ditches. How each place has grown up is scarcely known at all, and there are few people who ask anything about it. In America it is different, especially since the last fifty or sixty years. There are cities as if they had sprung out of the ground, and after ten years one often could not recmizee the country. Such a plactj; pleasant village called Xewbruch, stands not far from a great forest. There were old people yet living who could remember how a German peasant had cut the first piece from the forest, built himself a log house and dug up a little piece of land. The ground had proved fruitful, other settlers came there, workmen over from Germany, who put up better houses of timber and stone and now there was a pleasant little village, with some forty houses. Before many of the houses were little flower gardens, wherein they planted roses and pinks and pilly-flowers, as they grew at home; the men cultivated the fields, the women attended to their houses, happy children played around, where seventy years before had been only forest and wilderness. The inhabitants of Newbruch did not have a church; they had to go almost two miles in order to reach orte; but they had a school and a good, intelligent schoolmaster, who had traveled a great deal. The school-house, to which the boys and girls wandered, stood alone, quite at the end of the village, and had beautiful, pleasant play-grounds around it, which vWere perhaps as pleasing as JIr. Bauers school room, although they were fond of him. There they roamed about at recess in all kinds of wild playg, noisily enough, after the nature of boys. The girls gathered on a little hill behind the school house and amused themselves with quieter plays; the lads did not care much for that Only when the girls began to call out: "The old Poppel is cooking 1" the boys also sprang up and stood on tiptoes or climbed on a high stone; all looked out toward the near forest. If they saw there a thin column of smoke rising, then a general cry sounded: "Tne old Poppel is cookingl the old Poppel is cooking!" The old Popple was a nian whom no one in the village knew ; he had come there a long time ago and lived out in the forest. "When it was possible, a little band of the wildest boys went from school out into the forest where, near the tirst clearing upon a bare hill stood the dwelling of the old man, whom they.no. one knew whv. called the old Poppel. It is a peculiar, often a right cruel pleasure to children, to tease those who do not wish to be teased. Now, since the children from the settlement of Newbruchhad noticed that the old man, also called "the Hermit in the Forest," could not endure children and often became quite fierce if they came Bear him, it was just their pleasure to irritate him. As soon as they saw hy the smoke from his hut, that he was at home, they crept aa near as they could to the wretched little house and raised a cry : "Old Poppel, what are you cooking? Old Poppel, does it taste good?" Then when the old man broke fiercely out of the littie bouse and sprang after themwithaclub.it was a great joke to run before the old Poppel in wild flight and great fear, and to scream a teasing word from helow the hill. The parents certainly did not wish to allow this, for all kinds' of terrible thintrs were related concerning the old Poppel. Some said he was a leper, who darea not come among men ; that he had buried in his hut a great heap of gold and silver; some one had seen it once. ".No, it is a murderer!" asserted old Lena, a very cunning old woman, "and he has killed some one and brought the body here through the forest from a distance and buried it out there under the hill ; now he cannot go away on account of anxiety lest some ore should find the body." "He is not such an old man," affirmed a wood-cutter ; "I once saw him from afar, when he had straightened himself, and he was a vigorous man. I say to you, do not let the children go there any more." Not, no one had ever heard that a child had gone astray out there. Only fat Willie, who had waddled out with the others and had not been able to run away so fast, had been struck on the head by the club of the old man and received a hearty bump, and since then the schoolmaster had strictly forbidden the journeys into the forest. The schoolmaster was the only person with whom any one, walking "here and there in the forest, had seen the old Poppel speak. The children had on that account a still greater respect for their master. Also the older people were interested and wished to know from the schoolmaster everything concerning the very mysterious old man, who he was and whence he came. But that the schoolmaster could not tell them; only he thought this much: The old man is eurely not very bad ; he is a iS'JZjr! who has received from some one ur mi-fortune or injustice, but he is nbt wicked; he has even asked whether fat Willie was injured. The boys should leave him in peace. But the boys had no desire for that, and because they did not wißh to disobey right out the command of the schoolmaster, they tried to think of a caue for goinjf out again to the old man. It was near Christmas, and this feast was celebrated finely and pleasantly in Newbruch. The English inhabitants held a joyful feast on Christmas evening, and ate a great roast and pudding, but the German mothers decked a little green tree with small presents and colored lights, as their mothers had done for them in their far-away home, and the German windows gleamed and sparkled brightly in the holy night. Then the English children thought about it; they wanted a "German tree." too. Soon it was the general custom in the village, and the children spoke about it long before and after Christmas. Now, it was somewhat hard to get the trees, for in the forest grew mostly only deciduous trees, which in winter had no leaves, and the fir trees had to be brought from far within the forest. One made shift aa well as he could, and it was an especial credit and joy to receive a beautiful Christmas tree. In a little house at the end of the village lived a quiet woman, called Mrs. flail, who bad dealings with few people. Elizabeth, her only daughter, now almost thirteen years of age, wu a polite, cheerful maiden, very popular in the school, because she was pleasing and friendly to all, and could tell stories beautifully. The son of their neighbor, the rich butcher Brosch, was a good friend to Elizabeth. "Elizabeth," he said to her boastingly a few days before Christmas, "you shall see what a beautiful tree my father has brought from the city for iae ; it elands

back there in our little butcher shop. You know, my father has bonghtit," he saidselfconfidently, "because he does not wish to run around in the forest and seek a tree. What kind have you ?" "None at all," said Elizabeth, and she tried hard to not look grieved. "My mother cannot go into the forest and get one and she cannot buy one either. But I have a few little lights and I (hall go out on the street and see all the beautiful bright windows ; they are lovely I" Now it made Heiner sorrowful, that Elizabeth should have no tree, and yet he did not knew how he could help it, If he had wished to be generous and give Elizabeth his own tree, he knew well that his father would not allow it and he feared also that the other children would laugh at him. There came to Ilenrv at night a clever thought; he, at least, thought it amazingly clever, and he could hardly wait until he could announce it in the morning to the boys at school. "Listen," he began, "to-morrow is Christmas eve." "So, ah, that Is news," laughingly said Jacob, the son of the shoemaker; what new things Heiner finds out!" "Listen," continued Henry cheerfully; "we all have Christmas trees, I think; but Elizabeth yonder has none, because her mother cannot pet any." "I cannot help it," said Jacob, "I cannot fetch her any ; the fir trees grow only deep in the forest." "Listen," Henry began again with a cunning face, "it is not very cold ; we will go out to-day and ask from the old Poppel the fir tree which stands before his little house for a Christmas tree." "Ask it? from the old Poppel ?" cried the other boys in the highest astonishment; "he would give it to !" This time Henry's boldness had truly excited wonder; the rest would as yet not undertake it. "Oh, he is tot so bad as he pretends," said Henry ; "and if he is wild and cries and jumps at us, he has never done anything to us yet, and it is such fun to spring awavfromiim. Who will go with me?" , "i, I, I !' cried all. They were all ready when there was mischief going; even the girls came running there and wished to go. It seemed so pleasant for so mnny to go together. "You go with us "too, Elizabeth," said the wild Minnie. "You will get the tree, therefore you must not always be the good one. See, how beautifully'tbe 6un 6hines." Elizabeth agreed, although the thing seemed to her only half right. "Only be certain," directed the others, "that the schoolmaster marks nothing; he would not allow it, he is a good friend to the old man." And so they agreed in the greatest secrecy that they would come together for an hour in the afternoon and go out to the old Foppel. The most of them feared secretly, but there was a certain comfort even in terror. "Yes, bat listen." said Elizabeth thoughtfully, "he will become very angry." Oh, what of it, he does nothing to us, and we can all run better than he and it is nothing bad for us to want the tree from the old man, who does not use it." Now all had a secret joy in the adventure with the mysterious old man, een if Üiey feared a little, even Elizabeth, often called by the others "the clever Else." And so they went onward happily. It did not seem joyous out in the forest, Tvhere, in a narrow little valley, a hill rose, upon which the poor hut of the old Poppel Etood. No one could think there would ever be a feast day there, and that Boon the happy Christmas bells would sound from the village into this sorrowful abode. The green fir tree before the door was the only thing that did not appear wholly bad and joyless there; but even it had grown crooked and stretched out one of branches like a threatening arm. The old Poppel himself, with his bristly gray hair, as he came forward in faded clothing out of his slovenly hut, was the most sorrowful of all. lie appeared as if he had not had a joy in his whole life; and if children were not so mischievous, often cruel, they would have felt pity for the joyless old man, rather than pleasuro in teasing him. But pity did not stir in the breast of the wild Heiner, as he at the head of his little troop came in the narrow road toward the hill, upon which the feared Poppel lived. The six delegates who were to present the request were already chosen. Elizabeth was among them. She went forward somewhat hesitatindv, and asked gently: "What shall we say?" "I know," Henry called out saucily; but he continued with them, as on a sudden the old man stood before him and cried out angrily: "What do you want, you young ones?" "If vou do not take it ill, old Mr. Poppel," Heiner began seriously, "we would

like very much the tree there before your door. You do not use it at all." "For a Christmas tree," said Elizabeth, excusingly, who, full of anxiety, noticed the angry face of the old man. "We will cut it ourselves, we have an ax with us," called cut those behind; but they said it . in their flight, for the old man swung his stick angrily and cried: "You mob, you wish to make sport of me 1 I will teach you to cut my tree. I will beat your bones!" and down from the hill sprang the little wild army, the old man after it with fierce cries. They feared him yet and ran as fast as thev could; the last in the train, who could not run so. swiftly, began to cry, until one of them turned his head and cried triumphantly: "O he haa fallen down!" "That serves him right!" cried the others rejoicinelv." "Now beat our bones, old Poppel, will you?" Elizabeth also heard the cry and looked around, "O listen," she cried out; "the old man lies so sadly on the ground, perhaps he has broken his foot; we must help him." "Help!" cried out the boys; "no, not we; he would strike us dead if we went to him. Let him he there; he will soon stand up azain ; he has plenty of time for it." And all went quickly homeward; one with rude laughter, another with bad wishes, because they felt it was not right to leave the old man lying bo, but all were too rude or too frightened to go near him, and so they ran away. Only Elizabeth staid ; she could not run away, although she was verv much afraid of the wicked old man, who now certainly would be doubly fierce, and she stepped nearer very timidly. i es, it was very sad, and in a moment the old man was not feared. The stick had fallen from his hand; he lay there motionless; he had cut his forehead on a stone, and the blood trickled over his pale lace down into bis gray, tangled beard. It occurred to Elizabeth that once a wood-cutter, who had been struck on the forehead by a branch, was carried to his little house bloody and lifeless, and that her mother had bathed him with cold water and so had brought him to life again. She sprang up to the little hut; not without secret misgivings she went in. in order to get some water. In the hut it was gloomy and sad enough. In the only room that the dreary place held, one could not tell whether it was a stall or a kitchen or for a parlor; the old donkey was tied at the back, the Fame that people saw here and there with the hermit; in one place a few stones were arranged for a rude hearth, in another stood a kind of bed with a sack of leaves Water, Elizabeth did not see, but there was a little wooden bucket; with that the mrnc out. Kh had heard ft httl hronk purling by; there she drew from the ice cold water and washed the bloody face of the old man with her utile handkerchief. All the fear of him waa lost in the dread lest he should bo deal And when he

opened his eyes and moved himself again she felt the greatest joy. But the old man did not seem verv jovous as be awoke. j

"Ah. vou toad ! he growled ; 41 ait until I get my stick ; I will drive you away !" But little Elizabeth, who was at heart a brave child, had grown quite cherry and said, "O, you certainly would do no harm to a little maiden who has done nothing to you ; come in now; it is so cold." 41 Yes, it ij cold," murmured the old man; "go home and leave the old man to die." "Oh. no "said Elizabeth, boldly, 4,you do not need to die vet." and she becran busily to gather up dry sticks in her apron, for in the house she had seen none. "Go away and let my woodalone I cried the old man again. "Yes, indeed," said Elizabeth goodnaturedly, "I will go when I am ready," and she sprang into the hut with her apron full of wood; the old man limped in After her, muttering. ere you not uneasy, little Elizabeth, so alone in the smokv hole with the frightful old man ? The old man seated himself on his sack of leaves quite exhausted and looked at the lively little girl with tired eyes as she pulled together the smouldering ashes on the fire-place, laid on dry leaves and twigs, pulled a little piece of faper from her pocket and blew out her ittle checks mightily, until a cherry fire burned. - Elizabeth was hardly thirteen years old, but her mother had early taught her all household affairs, and now she liked to work around in the house and help her feeble mother, and she had learned to do it very skillfully. She was right earnest, as she filled the old pot without a handle, which lay on the ground, with water, put it on the fire, and then went toward the old man. "You look so pale and weak 1 You are freezing," said she, compassionately. "There lays an old brown mantle in which you can wrap yourself, though it is not beautiful," she added laughingly, and decked him in the rough mantle. "Perhaps it will soon become warmer in here." lie pushed her hands back and said without anger, but also without friendliness, "I am not cold ; go home !" "I shall soon go," said Elizabeth, pleasantly', and found something which looked like a broken dish ; in it she poured some of the warm water. "Now we must wash away that nasty blood. Is there no sponge here ? Then I must use the corner of my apron." The old man must have been, indeed, very weak, for he willingly suffered the little one to wash his bloody forehead and face; her little hands glided lightly and cool as snow flakes over the bare wrinkled head of the old man. But the blood began to flow again after the washing. "If I only had some spiderwebs !" eaid Elizabeth. It occurred to her that her mother considered that the best thing to stop blood. This moderate wish was easily fulfilled in the old smoke-holeof the hut." The spider-webs hung around like curtains. Socm Elizabeth, who did not fear spiders, had stripped down some of the webs, and stopped the blood very well. "So," 6he said, and laid fresh wood on the fire ; "now I will go. Do you feel better? Does your head ache now?" "No," he growled, "go home!" Now that grieved Elizabeth, for she had hoped for a friendly word from the old man. She turned sadly to go. But as she looked back when she reached the door, and the old man lay there so lonely in that sad place, he made her feel indescribably 6orry. She went back to him and gave him her hand. "Poor man," said she; "have the people become so wicked toward you?" He started up so suddenly that she was frightened and retreated, thinking he wished to strike her. But he only looked at her with sad, tired eyes, and asked, not so roughly as before: "Why, child?" "Why," she said, now somewhat embarrassed, "because you are so rough and passionate, and to-morrow is Christmas! All people, even the poorest, rejoice in the thought of Christmas and visit one another ;I believe you are the only one in the whole viHaee who holds no Christmas." "Christmas?" said the old man, sadly; "I know not, now, what that is." "O, I do not believe that!" cried Elizabeth. She became more and more ardent, and the old man looked more earnestly in the moving face of the child. "Every one knows that the dear Savior of the world has come, and that He has been so good and kind His whole life. And He made many sick people well again and raised many from the dead, and He never was bad or angry, even when bad people tortured Him and nailed Him on the cross!" Tears bad come into Elizabeth's eyes, for this very day her mother had read with her the history of the avior, and it had gone deep into her heart The old man nodded to her, Perhaps again in his heart stirred the holv history which his mother had related to him. But Elizabeth thought that perhaps he knew nothing about it and was sad over the martyr-like death of the Savior; therefore she smiled at him quite comfortingly and said: "That happened long ago and he is now in heaven in the highest power and glory. But," she spoke her inner thoughts gently and confidentially, "I believe each time His birthday comes. He remembers that He was once a child. The little children think the Christ child comes himself and brings them beautiful thinsrs; but my mother 6ays that although we do not see Him yet he comes acain to earth on Christmas and makes the hearts friendly toward the children. Then one lias beautiful Christmas trees and lights thereon and good things and dolls and playthings, and if a mother is poor, still she gives her children something, for the fcavior loves all people." "All?" said the old man, sad! v. "No; there are people whom the Savior loves no more." "I do not think that," said Elizabeth, shaking her little head ; "my mother savs it is never too late to obtain His love. But I must go home now, or my mother will be anxious. Good-bye, and come down when it is cold; we are poor, but we always have a warm room and you must not take it unkindly ; if you were not so rough, I think that many a time the children would come and gather wood for you." "No, no, little one, but wait a moment" And from a corner of his hut he fetched an old brown sachet and took out some thing. "There, child; take that." iow Eiizaoetn naa become very eager to know what secret treasure the old man would bring out of his each el. She was therefore somewhat disappointed when it proved to be a paper with a Piece of old maple sugar which is made from the sap of the maple tree in America; the old man must have bought it for a cough a long time ago. But she was a well reared child and knew that one must be thankful for a well meant gift So she said, politely "Thank you very much, Mr. Poppel," and looked at him uneasily; for she was not certain whether he was truly so called, but she knew no other name. But 41 Mr. Poppel" did not become angry. He stood a long time at his door and looked at the child as she tripped down the hill, and his face did not appear gloomy or fierce any more; for it was along time since he had done a friendly thing. even if it was only to give a piece of old maple 6U?ar. It was a beautiful sunny winter day. The old man sat before his door and let the warm sun shine on him. He felt as if the sun had shone upon his old frozen heart and thawed the ice there. Many thoughts rushed through his mind, and when he fell asleep upon his rough bed, and the bright full moon shone right in his face, through the broken window over the door of the hut, there came to him wonderful dreams he had not dreamed

for many years dreams such as rarely come to human beings, that are borne by friendly angels to a sad human heart.

He has never been able to ten ngtitiy what he dreamed that night, but his slumber was peaceful and gentle, as it used to bo long ago. Like pure gold and purple the morning light 6none into his hut when he awakened. As he stepped beiore ine door it seemed as if the green fir tree pointed with one branch down to the peo ple and stretched the other to the bright, blue heaven. A happv thought came to the old man, more sensible than that of the wild Heiner on the day before ; he laughed quite joy ously to himself as often aa he tuougnt or it, and could hardly wait until he snouia be able to execute it. He kindled a bright fire and cooked a regular breakfast for himself ; then he brought the donkey his fodder and quite astonished him by stroking and slapping him friendly on the Dact. That had never happened to him before," or at least it occurred a long time ago. We are going out to-day with one another, comrade," said the hermit, "and vou shall have some beautiful oats for Christmas." From an old musty box he fetched out an article of dress; no one would have thought that the old man had such a beautiful fur-bordered mantle. Somewhat dusty arid moth-eaten it was truly; but good and warm, and one did not know tne oia man, so grand did he appear, after he had thrown the mantle around him. When his donkey was saddled, the hermit went cautiously to the farthest corner of his hut, lifted a board from the floor, reached down and drew out a heavily filled money bag and took it with him. So all was not un true then, that people said of him. It was a pity that the boys of the village could not see him as he rode down the hill upon his donkey, an empty sack behind upon the shabby old saddle. But the boys did not trust themselves again out in the forest; their consciences troubled them for leaving the old man wounded, out there alone. They had not yet seen Elizabeth and feared that someone might find the hermit dead and accuse them ; they were not in a joyous and Christmas-like mood. But the old man seemed to have forgotten all that had happened to make him so angry. He appeared quite joyous as be trotted forth upon his donkey, and muttered to himself: "All kinds of beautiful things and dolls and playthings." The donkey knew his way; it was the only road, he had made it, and he went to the city in about an hour. But the master and his donkey had never come into the city. There was, out In the suburbs, a dirty, pitiful shop. There the hermit bought, when he had to, the most necessary things a little tea, matches, can fish and the like, for his wretched household. Up to this shop, where the hermit had never appeared in his fur mantle, thedonkey now trotted. . His master gave him a gentle slap, and said: "Not there, comrade, forwards !" In silent wonder the donkey marched from the door. On the day before Christmas people have very much to do, so they did not give much attention to the strangelooking old rider. But he looked only at the show-windows of the stores, until he finally halted his donkey at a toy-store, that was decked out like a true child's paradise. Tnedonkey understood nothing of all the grandeur therein, but remained standing patiently while his master went into the Etore with the sack in his hand. The shopmen were highly .amused at the singular apparition. But when the rusty-looking old man in the moth-eaten fur mantle drew out such a thick bag of money they all sprang up and hastened to serve him. "" They spread out 'before hfm the most beautiful things the loveliest dolls, children with little wax heads and gloss eyes; little mossy gardens with little woolly sheep therein; poultry yards with feathered hens and peacocks; little boxes with pretty kitchen furniture and gracefully painted porcelain cups and coffee pots. It was a real pleasure to see how joyously the old Poppel took took them up and laid them by hi3 side, one after the other. The clerks wrapped everything carefully in fine paper before they put them in the eack. "That is for the girls ; now, something for the boys," he commanded again and again; and riding-horses, and carriers' wagons, boxes with lead soldiers, whips and guns went into the sack, until it was so full that the donkey could hardly carry it "Come again soon, old 6ir," the clerks said laughingly, when he had paid cash for his purchases. But "der alter Herr," whom no one for a long time had treated so politely, did not have enough vet He went into a candy shop and bought great paper bags of candies which he pushed into his deep mantle pockets. Finely he went into a book-6tore and the book-seller looked at him wonderingly as he asked for a picture and A. B. C. books, which for many long years has been the fashion with children. The master and donkey were then laden enough. The latter was refreshed with most beautiful golden oats and became, on that account, very well disposed toward Christmas, and he carried besides a little sack of them on his back when he set out joyfully on his way home. There is a little story of a post horn in which on very cold days all the beautiful tunes, which the post boy blows in, are frozen. VY hen the horn is hung over a warm fire the tunes thaw out and it blows of itself the most beatiful tunes, one after the other. Such a frozen horn seemed the heart of the old man, and many a happy Christmas message, to which he paid no attention, was now thawed therein. On that account he came home so richly laden, almost as if ho were himself the Christ child. On this night also he had beautiful dreams. It seemed as if age aid sorrow of heart had fallen from him; as if he were again a happy boy and the holy Christ child himself payed with him. "Give me something, too.'' he asked, as in his dream the Christ child wished to rise again to heaven. But he heard onlv bells lovelv as the song of the angels on the first Christmas night: "Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace and to men good will. It was a busy day for the old man after he arose the next morning. lie had never had so much to do in his life before. The only person whom he knew in the village, the schoolmaster, had come out to his hut, at his invitation. But when he said to him, "Listen, Mr. Schoolmaster, I wish to make for all the young folks down there a joyous Christmas day, help me a little," the schoolmaster looked at him in a frightened manner, and wondered whether he had become foolish. "I can hardly tell how this has come over me," continued the old man ; "but for many, many years I have made no one happy, and wherever I have seen children I have scolded and driven them away. Now I wish to have with them a happy Christmas day, so that they will not run from me any more." "Yes, but how, why! have you found a treasure?" asked the schoolmaster, dumfounded, as he eaw on one side in a gay mixture all the grand things which the donkey had borne from the town. "No," said the old man sadly ; "I am not so poor as it appears from my wretched life. But I am an unfortunate, lonely old man, whom nothing in the world rejoices any longer. So I have done no good with my money for a long time either for myself or others. It haa not always been so, Mr. Schoolmaster. I had, far, far from here, r.ot very far from New York, a nice farm, and when I lost my good, beautiful wife, I prized more than anything else my only chi'd. The wishes I saw inner eyes I fulfilled, and she wanted nothing that I did not give her. Scmevrbat headstrong and

proud had my Ellen become; but a beautiful maiden, my heart's pride and joy."

"There came a fellow in our neighbor hood -a Fportsmnn, I thought although he asserted thnt he had been a count or so met hin;-; he h;ui not been there long when he de.-in.-d my Ellen for a wife. I never had a good opinion of him; I refused him f rankly'and told him that such a roving man without work did not receive my child. But Ellen wept and wished to marry rum. l spoke to her most kindly and begged her to stay with me, my only and loved child. I told her that the fellow would certainly make her unhappy ; that I would go with her wherever she wished. Certainly, never father begged so, but yield to her I could not "But she went away in night and dark ness and left me alone, I, her old father, quite alone in the world, and I would have given my heart's blood for her! "bo my heart has become like a tone in deep hate against all people because all 6eem wicked and falso to me after my child deceived me so, and when I have seen children I have become more angry because I think how my Ellen also played thus, and that she was my heart's joy. I have shut myself up in my house and spoken to no one." "And have you never heard anything from your daughter," asked the schoolmaster gently. "Once," said the old man, mournfully, "I do not know whether I dreamed it or whether it was true, in a moonlight night something tapped on my window more than a year after my child "left me. When I arose, I saw in the bricht moonlight a pale woman with a child upon her arm and she called out imploringly: 'Father, let me in.' Then anger came over me and I called out: 'So, now you wih to return although you left me when I begged you to remain. You have made your own bed, now lie upon it,' and I shut the window and laid myself upoÄ my bed but I could not sleep any more. I rose up again and looked out, but there was no one there.no trace. The next day I asked the neighbors if any one had seen a woman with a child. But they knew nothing, so I thought I dreamed it "From that hour I have had no more Eeace; I went away, far, far, until I came ere. I did not wish to see people any more. So I came here to this forsaken hut and have lived like a beggar, laying mymoney away. Many a time I have thought that perhaps I did not dream that night and that my child would have come back if I had opened the door. "Do you think it was a dream, Mr. Schoolmaster." "I do not know," he said; "your daughter has committed a great fault but do not take it unkindly you have also been to blame. You wished to give your child pleasure and joy but did not wish to discipline and admonish her. A child that always has its way must become selfwilled, and as your daughter repented you should have begged with her: 'Lord forgive us our trespasses.' " "I have thought of that;" said the old man sorrowfully, "and since that little maiden from the village came here, I have thought of it again. I thought of it all night, and on that account I want to make all the children happy, because I have no child or grandchild to make happy." "Both of us together can easily accomplish that," 6aid the schoolmaster joyously; for he was a good-hearted man and was often sorry he had not more to give. Then the history tells how a paper was put on the school-house door with these words upon it: "The hermit of the forest invites his good friends, the children of Newbruch, to visit him this afternoon, when the school bell rings." The children at first were afraid to go, but the schoolmaster assured them there was no danger, and also quieted the fears of their parents. Elizabeth's mother gave her consent, saying, with a sad smile: "since the old man gave you the pugar, perhaps he will give you something better this time, and I can give you nothing, poor child." It was a beautiful day, and when the children arrived at the "hut they saw, to their astonishment, the fir tree full of beautiful things, and the old man stood under it wrapped in his fur mantle. "The children were dumb at first," says the history, but Heiner, who knew what to do, threw his cap into the air, and cried: "Long live the old Poppel!" and "long live the old Toppel 1" cried all the voices, loudly and softly. A few of the girls added, "old Mr. Poppel," but he did not hear that. "Now, Mr. Schoolmaster," said he, "you know better than I what will please each one; will you be 60 good as to give each one something from the tree in the name of the 'old Poppel!'" The children were now quite still, as they looked at the wonderful tree, the same tree which had stood befo-e the wretched hut and stretched out its branch like a threaten ing arm. "All in order; in two rows !" commanded the schoo master, "bovs to the left and girls to the right! Henry Brosch and Elizabeth come forward! You are the largest and can help me!" They distributed the presents and each one received so much more than he expected that there was no envy or ill will. Presents were also given them to take to their brothers and sisters who could not come. The old man sat on the threehhold of his hut, having bound behind hi m his fai thful donkey, who had revelled again to day in golden oats: he heard tne jubilee of the children and saw their joy, and his hVart became warm and his eyes wet with tears as they had not been since his little Ellen plaved at his feet In great ioy over their beautiful gifts, the little folks would have run down the hill to show them to their parents. But Elizabeth had gone up to the old man, had given him her hand and said : "I thank you very many times." Now, it occurred to them also, and one after another came up and thanked him heartily, and "Long, long live the hermit of the hill I sounded as they sprang down to the val ley. Such chattering and laughter the old forest had never heard before as the happy children eprang down and called out be fore they arrived at the village: Hurrah I see what we have I The old man was spoken of with great admiration and thankfulness. He still sat before his door; the schooimaster and Elizabeth had not yet gone, for they did not wish to leave bim entirely alone. "Well, child," the schoolmaster said finally, "we muBt go too. Your mother will le anxious if you do not come home soon." "O, you must not remain alone," said Elizabeth to the old man, "it will be so cold up here." "I am not more alone than before," said the old man. pleasantly. "But you must come with us." said Elizabeth again ; "now you certainly love all 44 AH people?" said the old man sadly, and shook his head. "O yes," the child said, and while Bhe looked thoughtiully In his face 6he asked, "Did you ever have little children 7 "Yes." cried the old man ; "one, and do not know where she is! Dead and in cold and misery. 0, if I had only opened mv door to her I "Frightened and anxious on account of this cry, Elizabeth pressed toward the schoolmaster. "Bock, Elizabeth, he said just then, "there comes your mother. She has been anxious about you. I should have taken vou home sooner." "Where does my Elizabeth remain so long." asked the mother aa Ehe acded

the hill. Her child sprang joyously to her, but the pale woman stood wondering when she saw the old man standing in his tur mantle before the door.

"Who is that?" she cried out in fear and surprise. "O the old Poppel, mother; you know he formerly drove us away but now he is so good. See here!" But the mother did not look at Eliza beth's pretty sewing-box and the beautiful silk handkerchief she had received. She and the old man stared at one another as if charmed until both almost in the same moment cried out: "Is it you, O father?" "Ellen, Ellen, child, can it be thee!" And they laughed and wept and looked at one another, and Ellen asked: "0, father, can you forgive me? and her father cried, "Then it was you, and I drove you from my door !" Neither of them paid any attention to the wondering child or the schoolmaster, until the latter folded his hands and said, "The ways of God are wonderful and bring out everything right ! ihen the old man who was not called PoDoel" but Robert Hall, was easilr in duced to go with them to the village. Although the house of Elizabeth's mother was poor yet it was warm and eomfortable in comparison with the pitiful hut out in the forest. Little Elizabeth, to whom it still seemed a dream, that "the old Poppel" should bo her grandfather, made a good fire and put on the tea kettle. Her mother did not have a Christmas gift for her, but ehe had procured a little Christmas tree. She lit it up, now that it was dark, and the old man rested in the light his daughter near him on a foot-stool, and then she related to him all the trouble she had endured. "O, father, there is no good luck in a union which is not consecrated by the blessings of the parents," the repentant woman confessed, weeping. Then she related to him how her husband had deserted her, and she had been obliged to work to support herchild. "But I did not think," said she, "that the dear God would be 60 merciful, and lead me again to my father. And we have been near each other so long and have not known it!" Then the father spoke of the sad, lonely time which he had. They sat there together, the child between them, and all was joy and reconcilliation. The 6chool-master had gone away quietly: the little candles on the tree had burned out long ago, only the clear light of the full moon streamed into the mean little room as the Christmas carol sounded from clear, childish voices: "Glory to God in the highest, and peace on earth and good will to men." It soon became spring this year and no one would have known the little house of Elizabeth's mother, when the first roses bloomed in the little garden ; eo grand was it, with snow white walls, green shutters and red tiles. There was a room built on for the grandfather and a stall behind for the donkey. But no one would have known "the old Poppel" again either, whom they now call Mr. Hall, as he is cot in his old fur robe, by which his daughter had recognized him, but in neat, comfortable clothine, sat upon the sunny little bench before the house and greeted the passers-by. ."The old man has become ten years younger," said one of the passers-by. "What, ten! twenty!" said Henry the son of the butcher, who was now his particular friend; one does not know him anv more, he looks so well." "There hear that," the schoolmaster said laughingly, who had become an inti mate friend, is that not a compliment? "Yes, my Ellen also has not become older," said the happy old man, as the stately well-dressed woman, with happy lace went here and there; and it it depends upon me she shall not look troubled or miserable as long as she lives. The daughter nodded pleasantly to her father; then she asked somewhat anxiously, "But where does Elizabeth remain so long?" She sprang into the room in the same moment with laughing eyes and glowing cheeks, her blonde hair flying around her face. "He is foun I, grandpa," she cried out joyously; "your old comrade is found our gooddonkev! All the boys went to seek, when they heard that he had gone astray; and do you know where they found him" Out on the hill by your old hut We wish to build him a little summer stall there, in emory of old times." "There, do not abuse my old hut," said Hall. "But, grandfather, you were so sad out there. "You speak truly, child ; a sad and lonely old man, abandoned to hate and anger, until a good little girl came to me there." Elizabeth 6aid nothing; she only stroked gently his face, which was not sorough and harsh as before. "And if she had not come the ice would not have melted from my heart nor the mist from my eyes. O child, what good angel brought us together 7 "It was the Christ child, grandfather, said Elizabeth, looking at him with her true, loving eyes, "the dear holy Christ child." Crushed Hope. Boston Courier. "And what answer do you make to my ap peal" he asked, as be knelt at her feet. "James, I will be frank with you," she mar mured. "Oh. speak," he implored, "and relieve, me from the aeony of suspense. "Then let me say it cannot be." "Why not? Oh! why not?" "Because, James, I do not feel able to sup port a nusDana." Why lie Couldn't Ilold Elm, Munsey's Weekly. Inquiring Friend "Where's your horse? Ilaven t seen you drive him lately." Short Purse "Oh. had to let him couldn't hold him, you know." go; Inquiring Friend "Indeed! Why, I thought be was so gentle Short Purse "Yes, bat old Isaacs had a chat tel mortgage on bim." filahune's Cult rated Daughter. Philadelphia Times. The eldest dauzhter of Gen. Mahone of Vir ginia, who arrived from Europe by the Britan nic, has spent several years in Pans under the charge of Alarchesi. When Airs. John V, Hack. ay was over here she said that Miss Ma hone had one of the finest and sweetest voices she had ever heard. The young lady will spend tne winter in w asinugton. Mem. For the Fore-gn-Born Nobles. fThe Enoch. 1 "Wealthy Wife "Yon don't mean to tell me that you haven't money enough to get to aud from business to-day r Her Husband "I haven't a eent in my nocket?" Wealthy Wife "Dear, dear, where'a that 13 cents I gave you yesterday?" Extracting Amusement From Misery. Terra Hsu to Express.) If ndjre "My brother Bill was in to see me to-day." Phillips "I never knew you had a brother." Mudge "I haven't I mean the livery bill I incurred the evening Mips Willets cave me the privilege of beln a brother to her. Two Health Hints. Texas Sifting Don't hold a wasp by he other end while you thaw it out in front of.the stove to see if it is alive. It is cenerally alive. Don't shake a horuet's nest to see if the fam ily is at home. ' liado't Got That Far Vet. The Epoch. 'Too know Hawthorne's 'Marble Faun,' of course. "No, I do not. I've read his books, but never taw any ol his sculpture. A Severe Bin w. The Epoch. ßmith "I hear yon fought at Gettysburg." Icobinson "Yes, and was badly wounded." "Where?" "In mj substitute."

R. R. R.

RADWAY'S READY RELIEF. The Cheapest and Best MedU cine for Family Use in the World. Sore Throat, Colds, Coughs, Pneumonia, Bron chilis, Inflammation, Congestion, Influenza, Difficult Breathing. Cured and Prevented by Radway's Ready RelieC Inflammation of the Kidney, Inflammation of the Bladder, Inflammation of the" Bowels. Congestion ol the Lünes, Palpitation of the Heart, Hratrica, Croup, inphlber.a. Catarrh, lntiuenza. Cold Chills, Ague Chilis, Chilblains, Frost-bites, Nervousness, bleei läse nes. The application of the ItEADY RELIEF to the part or parts where the difficulty or pain esjsta will aCord, ease and comfort. KAL WAY'S HEADY RELIEF it the only remedial agent In vegue t.iat will instantly slop pa. a. H in etantly relieves and soon cores Rheumatism, Neuralgia. Pe'atica, Headache, Toothache, Inflammation, At Ihm a, Influenza, Difficult Breathing-, Lumbago, f-well.ng of the Joints, fains in Baca, Cheet or Limbs. Stronpr Testimony From LTonorable Geors Starr as to the Power of ßad way's Heady Relief in a Case of 8ciatlo Rheumatism. o. s V Xem Place, New Yort Dr. KipwAT : With me your Keiief has workei wonders. For the last three vears I have had frequent and severe attacks ol sciatica, sometimes extending from the lumbar regions to my an Ira, and at time la both lower limbs. During the timo I have been afiheted I have tried almost all the remedies recom mended by wise men and foola, hoping to find relief but a.l proved to be failures. I have tried various kinds o' baths, manipulations, oat war J applications of liniments too numerous to mention, and prescriptions of the most eminent physicians, all of which tailed to give me relief. Last September, at the urgent request of a friend ( ho bad been aSiictcd as myselO, I was In duced to try your remedy. I was then suffering fear ful:y with one of my old turns. To my sarpnae ant delight the first application gave me eaae. afte batbing- and rubbiag the parte affected, leaving the limb in a warm glow, created by the Kelief. In a short time the pain parsed entirely away. AUhoufh I hare had slight periodical attacks approaching' a change of weather, I know now how to cure mywlf, and fed quite master of the situation. KAD WAY'S UEADY KLIEF is my friend. I never travel without a botUt in my valise. Yours truly. GEO. 8 TABU. "ADIYÄY'S READY RELIEF. Is a Cure For All Pain, Sprains, Bruises. It Stands llrst and is the Only PAIN REMEDY That Instantly stops the excruciating pains, allare Inflammation and cures Congestions, whether of Uie Lcnpg, Momach, Bowels or other glands or orgsis. IN TERNALLY, a half to a teaspoonful in half a tumbler of water, will, in a few minutes, cure Cramps, f-pastns, hour Momach, Nausea, Vomiting. Heartburn, Nervousness, Sleeplessness, sick Headache, Diarrhoea, Colic, Flatulency, aad all rther internal pains. Malaria in Its Various , Forms Cured and Pre vented. There is not a remedial apent in the world that w3 cure Fever and Ague, and ail other Malsrious. Bilious and other Fevers, aided br RADWaY'S PILLS, so ouicklyas RADWAY'S REÄDV KELIEF. K. K. K. not only cures the patient seized with Malaria, but if people exposed to Malarial poison will, every morning-, take 'i'i to 30 drops of Heady Kelief la water and eat, say a cracker, before going out, they will prevent attacks. Fifty Cents per Bottle. Sold by Drngeists. SWAY'S Sarsaparillian Resolvent. THE CHEAT BLOOD FURIFIER, FOR TEE CURE OF CHRONIC DISEASE. Chron'e Rheumatism, gcro'ula, Hacking-, Dry Coueh, Cancerous Affections, Bleeding of the Lnngs, White Swell ng, Tumors. Hip Disease, Bronchitis. Not or ly does the barsaparilla Kesolvent ezoel alt remedial agents in the cure of Chronic, Scrofulous, Constitutional and Skin Diseases, but it is the only positive cure for KIDNEY AND BLADDER COMPLAINTS, Gravel, Diabetes, Dropsy, stoppage of Water, Incontinence of Urine, Bright's Disease, Albuminuria, and in all cases where there are brick-dust deposits, or the water is thick, cloudy, mixed with substances like the white of an egg, or threads like h.te siik, or there la a morbid, dark, bilious appearance, and white bonedust deposits, and when there is a prickling, burnlnf sensation when passing water, and pain in the smaU of the back and along the loin. Kidney Troubles. Atht!s, Ohio. - Dbar Snt I thought I would write you and tell you what wonderful work your Sarsaparillian Resolvent has done forme. Six weeks ago 1 could not move without the greatest pain with disease of th kidnevs. I have ttied every kind of liniment and different medicine, and had my doctor to prescribe; buS nothing did any good until I tried your Resolvent, t took three bottles (and just sent for three more . Your Pi Us are a God-send. 1 hsve recommended them to over a hundred persons, who all say they found tbem to be the best Pills thev ever took. MRS. TOM RRDI!C, TOM RARDIN. Yard Master. Athens, M. & C. Depot. Kidneys Returning to a Healthy State. Radwat & Co. Oertlemen: I am now taking the fifth bottle of your Resolvent, and am receiving great benefit from it when all other medicines failed, and my kidneys are returning to a healthy condition, anl would recommend it to all suffering from any disease; whatever from their kidnevs. TtespectfnllT yours, W. C. W1LLITTS, Flattsmoulh, Neb. DIABETES. LonsrANa, Mo. Dr. Radwat Dear Sir: I have used ail your rem. edies with great succss in practice; and the way! found (avor with your Rolvent, it cured me of diabetes after three physicians had given me up. I da tected a change in my "urine in two houra after that first dose, and three botties cured me. Your friend, TH03. O. PAUK. Dr. liadway'a SarsrornHari Resolvent. A remedy composed of Ingredients of extraordinary medical properties, essential t- purify, heal, repair and invigorate the broken down and wasted body. Quick, pleasant, safe and permanent in its treatment and cure. Hold by all druggist. One dollar a boltio. DR. RADWAY'S REGULATING PILLS. THE GHEAT LIVER AND STOMACH REMEDY. Ferfect rnrxatives, Soothln? Aperients, Aci Without Pain, Always Reliable and Natural in their Operation. Perfectly tastt-less, eleeant'.y eoatel with sweet gum, purge, regulate, puruy, cleanse and strengthen. Radwav's Pills lor the cure of a.l d.sorJers of the htomach. Liver, Bowels, Kidneys, Bladder, Nervous I'iseaees, Cont:pation, C'O'-tivene, Indigestion, DysSeneia, Rillionsness. Fever, Inflammation of the owels. Piles and all derangements of the Internal Viscera. Purely vegetable, containinf no mercury, minerals or deleterious drugs. eu)bsenre the following symptoms resulting from disorders o. the digestive organs: Constipation, In. ward Files. Fullness of Blood in the Head, Acidity of the Stomach. Nausea, Heartburn, Disgust for Food, Fullness or Weight ia the Stomach, Hour Eructations, Sinking or fluttering in the Pit of the btoniach. Swimming of the HeaiC Hurried or Difficult Preathing. Fluttering at the Heart, Choking or Puflocxtina; Sensations when in a Lying Posture, Dots or Wet Fefore the f'ght. Fever or Dull Pain in the Head. Def.ciencv of P rspiralion, Yellowness of the Mi in and Kves. Pain In the ide. Breast. Limbs, and Sudden Flashes of Heat, liuming of the Flesh. A fowdosps oi RADWAY'S P 1 1 LS 11 free the system from all the above named disorders. Trice 23 Oots Ter Ilox. Send stamp for postace to RADTVAY ft CO., Kew Tork, for our book of advice. TO THE ITHLIC. BrBe sure to sk for RADWAY'S, anl see that IU. EADWAi" is oa hat loa bur.