Oh, 'tis true! Old Kruth's croak when the rattles took his throat. The boy had seen my wife 66 Sticking the pullet. Come," he said-and took His sister's arm-"we'll play at Kitchen: I will be the cook And you the pullet. Stand!" I saw him seize the knife. I bounded forward. All too late. The child Lay weltering in her blood—her throat one gaping gash. Frenzy had nearly murdered him. KATHERINE. His father in his first "Your son I sent him to an uncle resident at Thun- To learn-but there's a something adverse in his star. Is hurried and perturbed-half lunatic And quite intractable-and when I have gone So far as to admonish him, though in a quiet way, KURT. You wept much when your son absconded? KATHERINE. Oh! WALTER. (in a low tone to Katherine.) Katherine, beware! This Yager seems to know He grew up, we heard, a froward lad : He had run away from him, too, o'er and o'er ; And thinking he could do no less, too, shut Here he didn't tarry, However, long, before he escaped-and 'twas, as we were told, Precisely on the fatal day, the twenty-fourth of February, He being barely then fourteen years old, That he enlisted as a soldier in The hosts of Revolutionary France. Friend! your every look and query And your odd pacings to and fro are very Peculiar! I'm not fond of spinning yarns. Distempers killed my cattle-fire consumed my barns And avalanches crushed my fields. No toil Availed me. As you came from Kanderstag You marked a barren tract of blasted soil Lying half-buried underneath snow-crag And Alpine-granite. Twelve years back it was Down from the Rinderhorn, o'erwhelming as It rolled man, beast, crops, meadows, vineyards. Under Lay once luxuriant orchards and rich pasture-ground. And now the unhappy failure of our last Year's harvest-this has been the finishing stroke. Loured our disasters, and withal 'twas very House of Correction, or Penitentiary. Ay! that I have—enough!—and gladly would Do more than lend it you. But patience!—God is good. Bear with your ills to-night-to-morrow He will end Them all! WALTER. To-morrow? God will, eh? Or p'rhaps you mean the devil? O, self-tormentor! KATHERINE. WALTER. Friend! you are many cuts above my level. You seem a something 'twixt a conjuror and a priest- Ah, Father Walter! That's my name.— KURT. WALTER. -Well, well-your wine's the thing, at least, (Drinks.) But why d'ye chamber crags by night? KURT. Ah, Gaffer! My life's page, like your own, is overdarked and sad. WALTER. Hail fellow, then, well met! You are just my man, egad! The history would but make my scarred wounds bleed Afresh. Enough, that for the fatal deed I was compelled to fly from home. It happed in A fancy to me, purely from my look, And hired me as his valet. He was Captain In the Swiss Guards, those heroes whom the Sans Difficult was it, doubtlessly, for him To leave his country-but poor Louis' wrongs Wild work in Paris then? WALTER. KURT. Fancy you see by some concussion Sing, clap their hands, laugh, reel about, and dance, The savage portion uttering yells and whoops This tragedy, it may be not amiss to observe, was written before the author became a Roman Catholic priest. Of welcome-fancy this, and then you gaze WALTER. You saw our comrades murdered ?-saw them as they fell KURT. I saw The sweltering night descend, moonless and dun as Hell, A pall of blackness over that infernal Harvest of carnage. But let me accurst myself-refrain WALTER. Yet pray explain KURT. When we thus saw them perish-saw them piked and shot, Far from their own loved hearths and ancient land, In contest for a king whose lieges they were not, A king to whom Affection's, Honor's band WALTER. Ay, ay, such things Have come to pass, through Satan's help, where parents were not kings. KURT. My master then, whom I was fortunate The rabble's ruffianism, resolved on leaving Cemented us. How far o'er Earth and Ocean We roamed, I recked not-even to Death's dark strand Would I have followed him with fond devotion. We sailed for St. Domingo, his (my master's) After the usual maritime disasters Landed, not caring much for sea or land. WALTER. You've been to the New World? You're a great traveller, then! KATHERINE, Ah! there you found the blest and happy men! KURT. Yes, among those untainted here, and there; (Pointing to his heart and his head.) The rest were like the folk we meet elsewhere. Best of men! He had still perhaps been living but for me. KURT. Alas! Why was not I too doomed to fall beneath his WALTER (to Katherine.) Ha! hear'st thou that! Now must I not KURT. (Katherine goes into the inner room to prepare the bed for Kurt.) O'er even the dreariest dwelling of Despair; So Mercy lifts her shield o'er Man, and the sharp shafts of Vengeance I should not pray to Heaven in vain to assoil me of my crime. The waterfalls, the woods, the mountains rang With the one note all day and night-" Come home!" The Glaciers, as if conscious of each pang I suffered, cried-" We melt-Come home! Come home!" "Rest for the wanderer and a happy home!" Bade me exchange the New World for the Old. To glad my parents' hearts. My biggest money-bag Where do your parents live? From this. KURT. They live-about-three miles WALTER. Indeed? Three miles from this? that's queer! I thought we had nought for nine miles round, but piles Of naked rocks. No matter-one thing's clear You're a sharp lad; you have conned your parts of speech; Have heard the Glaciers sing and planets preach, And know which way the cat jumps pretty well. KATHERINE, (to Kurt.) • Werner appears to forget that Walter had already mentioned the name of his son.-V. p. |