Anton the fisherman

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I LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. \

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Chapter I. The Fisherman’s Cottage

Godliness with contentment is great gain.”

N one of the most beautiful portions of Germany, upon the banks of the Rhine, scarcely half a mile distant from the village, but completely hidden from view by sheltering bush and garden, stood a lowly cottage. Far above it, a high hill, covered from base to summit with an undergrowth of green, abruptly reared its head, crowned with a magnificent, stately castle.

How very humble the cottage looked ! yet so bright and neat, with its snow-white walls, its windows glistening in the sunshine — so sweet and graceful, with its clambering roses and mantling vines, which, with their loving tendrils and luxuriant foliage, clothed wall and thatched roof with beauty, that the thought involuntarily arose : “ Surely the dwellers of that bright, embowered cottage are good, contented, and happy, although, it may be, poor.”

Happiness and content were certainly to be found beneath the roof of the fisherman’s cottage ; and Poverty, with her evil train, want, penury, and misery, had never passed the threshold. Neither were riches and abundance theirs, but what cared Anton the fisher and his good wife Marie for these ? They were content with their cottage, their stall, which sheltered the dear brown-spotted cow, and their two goats, which sported upon the neighboring hills: then, too, twelve motherly hens clucked and scratched in the little farm-yard, or, lustily cackling, proclaimed the fresh-laid egg. But cow, goats, and hens were not the only possessions of Anton. Behind the cottage lay a beautiful large garden ;

beyond it, a pretty meadow, fragrant with grass and herbs ; and still farther, a good broad range of field-land, where Anton in adverse years raised not only enough corn and potatoes for himself and family, but also for the enclosed inmates of stall and farm-yard, and, when the season was good, sold the surplus for bright, ready money. And besides these, had he not his boat, his nets, and Father Rhine with his fishes? which none knew better than he how to entice. And beyond all, did he not dwell in a wondrously lovely country ? one more charming could scarcely be found in all Germany.

Even to dwell in the midst of a charming landscape is in itself a rich possession. Only those are truly forlorn and to be pitied, who, by the force of circumstances, are compelled to exchange such a country for a dreary, desert plain, where the eye sees nothing but continuous heath, sand, dark fir-tree, or sterile field, overshadowed by a heaven of unchanging gray: then the longing soul reverts continually to the lovely, blooming land, with its sunny, vine-covered hills, its shadowy woods, and the glorious streams in whose clear flow mountain, castle, and town are mirrored.

It was evening. Serenely the sun sank down to his rest, and, as he bade adieu, bathed heaven and earth in a glow of golden light. The air was calm, although one had heard since noon the distant mutterings of thunder, and there lay now upon the far-distant horizon a mantle of dark-gray cloud. Upon a low wrooden bench beside the door of the cottage sat Marie, the wife of the fisher, busily cutting the long, green bean-pods which she had just plucked for the morrow’s dinner. A clear, sweet voice was heard from out the kitchen window, which stood wide open, singing a simple, touching ballad, well known to all the dwellers upon the banks of the Ehine. Low down toward the shore a stalwart man was mending a boat : it was the fisher, Anton, who was preparing for the business of the following day, which in the early morning would precede the first beams of the sun. Upon the waters of the Khine, large sailing-vessels as well as smaller craft float up and down, and occasionally a clear huzza is heard from on board ship or boat, as they pass by the shore where the fisher is at work, which is returned by Anton with a wave of his light cap and an answering shout, as he for a moment suspends his work.

Not far from the cottage a narrow road wound toward the village: it was now quiet, for the vine-dressers had returned to their homes, and only now and then a solitary belated traveller was to be seen, to whom the young wife of the fisher gave a friendly “ God greet you, and good night.”

“ Father might stop working now : he has surely done enough through the day,” said Wilhelm, a pretty, rosy-cheeked boy of nine or ten years old, to his mother. “ Even old Martin has gone past, who is always the last at his vineyard. Why need father tire himself more than our neighbors in the village ? ”

“ He well knows that it is necessary for him to work, Wilhelm,” answered his mother, smiling, and stroking the glowing cheeks of the boy. “ But look : it seems to me as if father had just driven the last nail in the plank, for he has laid the axe aside, and is now wiping the sweat from his brow. Run down quickly, and help him carry his tools ! ”

The boy sprang up at once, and ran down to his father. Anton threw him aloft, then caught him in his strong arms, pressed him to his breast, and kissed him upon his full red lips.

“Why in such haste, Willie? what news do you bring? are the fish ready, and am I to come to supper?” said he.

“I do not know, father,” answered the boy, amidst the boisterous caresses of the fisher ; “ but I do know that you could make this a holiday evening, if you would only tell us a story of the olden time — of monsters and dragons, or of Knight Roland, of the great Emperor Karl, or of the horned Siegfried ! Pray do, dear father ! Annie has been expecting it so long, and mother is always ready to listen to any beautiful story you have to tell us. Let me carry the axe, father, and the nail-box : they will not be too heavy for me; then you can take the rest of the things, and we will not have to return.”

“ Now I see why you are in such haste,” said his father, smiling and shaking his head. “ I fear you will be disappointed, Willie ; for see, the sun has gone down, and my boat must be put in order. If I am not greatly mistaken, much rain will fall during the night. So carry the nails, axe, and other tools to the house, and I in the' meanwhile will draw the boat higher up on shore.”

“ But afterward, father — afterward? ”

“ We will see if sister Louisa can give us time before supper, for you know after that you little ones must go to bed. But mother beckons to us : the fish must be broiled, and we must hasten, or they will be cold.”

“ Oh ! what a shame, that we will not hear a story to-day,” lamented Willie while he raised the heavy axe upon his shoulder, and lifted the box of nails. “ But, to-morrow, father — is it not so — to-morrow you will tell us ? ”

“ Should there be nothing of importance to do, my child, I will,” said Anton, consolingly. “ For to-day we will close our work, and our God be thanked for all his past goodness and mercy. Go on Willie!”

The boy dragged his load up from the shore, and the father bore upon his strong arms and shoulders his boat to the cottage. The shore was not steep, and the ascent to the cottage not difficult, but he was obliged to set it down several times, and rest, before the goal was reached.

“Why are you taking so much trouble, Anton,” said his wife. “ The boat would be just as safe there as up here : you will only be obliged to carry it down to-morrow.”

“ That will not be as hard as bringing it up,” answered Anton with a smile, giving at the same time his hard, strong hand to his wife. “ Do you not know that ‘ prevention is better than cure ’ ? Father Rhine has his grumblings — hark! there is heavy thunder : in all probability it will rain ; and if the river should rise over night, our boat might be drawn down the stream. Better to guard against than complain, Marie.”

“ The storm may not prove so dangerous as you anticipate : you are too solicitous, Anton ! ” said his wife, half reproachfully, half tenderly, her left arm thrown around him, and wiping with the corner of her apron his heated brow. “You work more than there is any necessity for, and are more industrious than any of our neighbors.”

“ I work because it is a pleasure : is it not for thee and our children ? Thou too art always busy, Marie: our little cottage and family consume all thy time ; that basket-full of beans is proof of thy industry. Why were men placed in this world, if not to labor? Would you like me, Marie, to exchange with our baron above there? See, his / windows even now seem to us down here to gleam like flames of fire. Poor old man ! Excess and weariness allow him no' true pleasure. Or shall I exchange with his son, the young knight

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Ottfried ? God forbid ! he does not know how to employ usefully one hour of the long day, and he in his youth is still worse off than his father. No, no, God preserve to me that which now is mine — my noble wife, my children, and my health — and I will ‘sing unto the Lord as long as I live : I will sing praise unto my God while I have my being.’ ”

“ Dear Anton,” said his wife, earnestly, “ you are so content, you envy no man’s good, and yet your life, from youth up, has been full of trouble and deprivation.”

“ Trouble ? deprivation ? ” questioned Anton, in astonishment. “ Of what have I been deprived ? have I not every blessing that heart could desire? What could one ask more of our Father in heaven, and what should call forth more gratitude, than health and our daily bread ? ”

“ But when you become old and weak, Anton?”

“ Have we not our children ? ” said the fisherman, casting a fond, bright glance upon the little ones, wha at that moment came up from the shore carrying the few remaining tools. “When we are old and weak, will they not be young and strong, and care for us, even as we have cared for them in their helpless childhood ? Why should we ‘take thought for the morrow’? God has helped us — is now helping us — and he will help us to the end. Have you so little confidence in the Almighty, my wife, that you thus dwell upon past misfortunes and coming evils, while happiness is in our very midst ? ”

With much emotion Marie pressed the hand of her husband. But now appeared in the door of the cottage a blooming young girl of fourteen or fifteen years, who told them the fish were thoroughly browned and must no longer be over the fire.

“ Bring them at once,” answered Anton ; “ my appetite shall do honor to your skill ! but bring them out into the open air ! why should we be cramped in the narrow room, while God’s beautiful world lies spread abroad so gloriously around us?”

“ But the table is already set,” answered the maiden, somewhat perplexed; “and while I move it, the fish may burn.”

“Then let the removal be our care,” said Anton, good-humoredly. “ Be quick, Marie, we will carry the table out, and Willie and Anna can bring the chairs : be brisk, and in a moment all will be accomplished ! The table wTas soon placed upon a grassy spot near the cottage door, the children brought the chairs, and before Louisa came bearing the delicious broiled fish, everything was in beautiful order. Willie repeated a short prayer, and then the father divided the simple repast — to each an abundance, and to each one did it taste most exquisitely, because provided by the skill and industry of their father. After the frugal meal, the children bade them a cheerful good-night and were taken to their beds by Louisa ; after which it was not long until the diligent maiden had restored every plate and bowl to its proper place.

Anton and his wife were once more alone, and gazed with peaceful hearts out into the beautiful, fragrant, summer landscape. The glow of the evening had vanished, hut a soft faint twilight glimmered in the distance, and now the full moon arose, flooding the whole landscape with a mellow, radiant light. A gentle breeze from the river cooled and refreshed them after the sultry day : in the remotest distance the lightning quivered.

A long time had Anton and Marie sat thus silently, communing with their own thoughts, when they wrere aroused by hasty footsteps, and on the instant Louisa appeared in the clear moonshine, hastening toward the river.

“Where so late, Louisa, my child?” said Anton, as she passed by.

“ Only to do some washing and rinsing,” returned the maiden’s clear voice. “ The evening is mild and pleasant, and when I rise early in the morning the clothes will all be dry. I have strung the line in the garden.”

And as fleetly as she came, so she vanished ; and soon from the river came the sound of plashing water, caused by the exertion of Louisa’s energetic arms.

“Noble girl! noble to the very depths of her heart,” said Anton, after a pause; “ever busy, ever content, and ever cheering us with her sweet songs. The dear child has surely brought a blessing into our little cottage !

“ Oh ! Anton, dear husband,” said Marie, in a voice full of emotion, “ you bear also this burden I have placed upon you, wTith patience and kindness ; you have, in all these many years, never spoken to her save with words of love; and yet—”

“Well — yet? Speak, Marie,” said Anton, as his wife hesitated.

“ It is one burden more for you,” she said, weeping : “ you would not have to labor so severely if Louisa were not with us.”

“ How so, wife? ” returned the fisher, with mild reproof. “Louisa, thy sister’s child, a care, a burden for me ? she who is constantly adding to our happiness by her cheerfulness and diligence, who, from early dawn until twilight, is ever as active as now ? Have you forgotten how she cared for you, last spring, when you were sick ? or, how she watched beside the couch of our little Anna, taking no thought for herself, in that most malignant of fevers ? Should she be a burden to me ? Now, good wife, what further fancies to-day ?”

“ Ah ! I have been thinking how much freer from care and more fortunate you would have been, Anton, if you had never seen me,” said Marie. “ When we were married, I did not expect to come empty-handed into thy house; for all thought the school-master of Emmenbach, my dear father, was a wealthy man. Then, when, a few weeks after our marriage, my father died, then it appeared that — ah ! I am ever unhappy when I think of that sorrowful day ! ”

“ What appeared then, my dear wife ? ” asked Anton, while he tenderly stroked her cheeks still wet with tears ; “ what appeared ? ”

“ Thou knowest, Anton,” she continued. “ The merchant in Bonn, to whom our father confided all our little fortune, because he thought him his most faithful friend — when he became a bankrupt, and a fugitive, then we, of all our father possessed, received not even a kreuzer ; and so it happened that poor Louisa became a desolate orphan. And finally the baron too denied the debt of five hundred gulden, which my father lent him, one year before his death, in my presence. So thou, poor Anton, instead of bettering thy' circumstances by bringing me to thy cottage — thou hast only made them worse ; and often, often my heart is heavy, when I think of this.”

She still wept as before. Anton pressed her to his breast, and tenderly kissed her brow.

“ My dear wife,” said he, “ have you entirely forgotten what a treasure the dear Lord has given me in thee ? Dwell not happiness, peace, and tender love beneath the roof of our little cottage ? Have I to tell thee again and again that I would not exchange thee and my dear children for all the treasures of the world ? No, no, Marie ! wealth does not bring happiness : that is only to be found in a satisfied, contented spirit. Our God has always helped us, and for this let us praise him with all our hearts, and glorify his name forevermore. ‘ The young lions do lack, and suffer hunger : but they that seek the Lord shall not want any good thing/ He has blessed our land, and my nets, so that we need not care for the morrow. Why lament over losses we can so easily bear ? ~No more of this, dear wife ; we know that they shall all work together for our good. That man in whom your father confided, can he not one day return, and replace all that he, from the pressure of circumstances, could not save from the whirlpool which swallowed him up in its depths. Your father always believed him to be a just man ; and when he fled, we knew he was no fraudulent bankrupt. He deserved far more compassion than contempt and hatred. Let us cast no stone upon the fallen.”

“ I hate him not : I only grieve that we were involved in his misfortuno,” answered Marie. “ But the baron ! have you excuses for him ? he is rich : is it not shameful that he denies his debt ? If we only had that five hundred gulden, we could purchase two acres of field-land, and give no thought to the morrow. No! whatever excuse you may offer, Anton, I despise the baron.”

“And I pity him,” answered the fisherman, reflectively. “ There are many secrets whispered about the old lord, and if he does not pay his debt, may it not rather be because he cannot, than because he will not ? * All is not gold that

glitters,’ and the baron, in his magnificent castle, is not so light and joyous in mind as are we in our humble cottage. If one could but fathom the heart of man, probing its very depths, ah ! there would often be found anguish, trouble, care, and bitterness, in place of the looked-for joy and happiness. Think no more of the baron! Who knows but that he has paid back long ago the five hundred gulden to thy father ? ”

“ No ; oh ! no,” returned the young wife with decision ; “ a short time before his death he reminded me of the loan ; so that I could not forget it ; and I have no doubt but that he would have shown me the place where he kept the bond, had not death so suddenly overtaken him.”

“The bond has vanished; let us think no more about it,” said Anton. “I would much rather find out something about the father of our dear Louisa, who has not been heard of for so many years. Did your father never tell you anything about him, Marie ? ”

“ Nothing. He knew not whether he was dead or alive.”

“Do you know nothing of his past history, after he became acquainted with your poor sister Anna, and came to your house to live ? ”

“ But very little,” answered Marie. “ At that time I was but a child, and remember him only as a handsome, stately man, with large, earnest black eyes, and dark curly hair. He was wandering up the Bhine, and came on foot to our house one evening, intending to journey farther; but, instead of doing so, remained with us, not only the next day, but many days and weeks, under the pretence of learning the German language from father. Afterward he married my poor sister ; then he left us, and never, never returned. My sister, in silent grief, awaited his return, and, after two or three years, God took her to himself. She died in the firm conviction that her husband had passed away, and she -would meet him again in heaven. After Anna’s death my father never spoke of him, but he loved the little Louisa with his whole heart. He too believed in Oscar’s death ; and who could entertain a doubt but that the poor fellow had suddenly been called away. He may have been shipwrecked ; for when he bade us farewell, he said he intended visiting Scotland, his native country. Perhaps he died there of sudden disease, or perished by accident among the mountains of his fatherland : certain it is, however, that through some unavoidable fate he was prevented from returning to us; for he was good and noble, and loved us even as we loved him.”

“ And did your father never make any inquiry about him ? ” said Anton.

“He wrote to Scotland, but his letter returned unopened. Poor man, he could not be traced.” *

“ Ten or eleven years have passed since then,” said Anton, “ no one hearing of him during all that time ! Then we must surely, even though with reluctance, give up all hope of his return. I fear that our poor Louisa has indeed but her Father in heaven ; and so much the more is it our duty — we who are her nearest relatives — to cherish the desolate orphan. But see ! she is returning from the river, and I do not wish her to know we have been speaking of her or her father. The air, too, from the river is cold. Let the past rest, as we too seek rest for the night.”

Soon deep stillness reigned : far in the distance quivered the lightning; the thunder was not distinct, but mingled its low mutterings with the soft murmurs of the Rhine, whose restless waves

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Chapter II. The Overflow Of The Rhine

“When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee ; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee.”

||||®jgi||T was about two or three o’clock in the EH fl&l morning> when the fisherman suddenlyawoke from his deep slumber. Half dreaming, he listened. A singular roaring sounded in his ear. It seemed to him as though he sat in his fishing-boat, and the swelling waves beat against the shore. Dense darkness surrounded him, for the moon had long gone down.

“ What can it be ? ” murmured Anton to himself. “ Do I dream, or am I awake ? Am I in my boat, or in my cottage ? ” A sudden terror took possession of him. With an effort he sat upright in his bed and cried aloud, “ Wake up !

wake up, for God’s sake, or we shall all be drowned ! ”

“What is it, Anton?” cried the bewildered wife, as she was suddenly aroused out of sleep.

“The water! the wTater!” returned Anton. “The Rhine has overflowed! Hear you not how it pours through every crevice of our cottage ? Surely I had a presentiment of this > and for this emergency, by God’s good guidance, I brought my boat from the shore. Be tranquil, my dear wife ; the danger is not so imminent but that we will be able to escape with but very little trouble. Throw some clothing around the children. I will see, in the mean time, how it looks without.” Anton sprang hastily from his bed into the midst of the room. “ Alas ! ” cried he, “ it is worse than I thought ! The water is already more than ankle deep. It must have stormed fearfully up the Rhine, to have caused such a rise during the night ; but I have the tinder, and we shall soon see.” The match w'as applied, and soon a blue flame lighted the little room, and in a moment the lamp was burning. They soon saw that the floor was covered a foot deep with water, and that it was streaming in rapidly through the crevices of the door.

“We are lost! we are lost!” cried the affrighted mother. “ Life — home ! all, all will the flood carry away ! ”

Anton was also alarmed, but through a vigorous exertion regained his self-control. “ Be calm, dear wife,” he said ; “ our boat is moored beside the door, and the oars are in it. The water rises rapidly, but time enough remains at least to save our lives. Dress the children, and I will secure the boat.”

A complaining bellow, at that moment, as if imploring help, came from out the stall.

“Ah! Anton, our poor cow and goats!” sighed Marie.

“ If I cannot save the poor creatures, I will at least set them free,” said Anton, decidedly. They may save themselves ; but they shall not, without a struggle, miserably perish.” Quickly rais- C ing a window, he sprang into the yard. Here the water reached to his waist. He waded through, and succeeded in reaching the stable. The bolt was hastily drawn, and the door thrown wide open. The poor creatures were soon freed, and, impelled by fright, fled through the garden and beyond, disappearing in the mist and darkness of the night. The chickens fluttered, cackling noisily, from tree to tree. Anton left them to their fate, and sorrowfully returned to the cottage.

“Hasten, Marie,” said he ; “the water is rising rapidly. Not a moment is to be lost, if we would save our lives. Where is Louisa?”

“I am here, father,” said the child, as she descended the steps which led to the lower floor. She was pale, but calm and self-possessed. Marie too had aroused herself from the stupor of her fright, and cast, with trembling hands, the clothing around the loudly weeping children. Anton addressed them encouragingly, as he searched for his boat near the entrance of the house ; for upon that alone, with the help of God, rested their hopes of safety. The water rushed wildly toward him, so that he could scarcely keep his feet, but, putting forth his whole strength, he forced his way through. A cry of joy escaped his lips when he found the newly repaired boat upon the spot on which he had placed it the preceding evening. The wildly raging flood sought to tear it away, but chain and stake held it firm. With strong arm he pushed the boat close by the door of the cottage, where he secured it by its chain to a post.

“God be thanked, the means of our rescue has not been snatched from us,” said he, as he re-entered the room, in which the water, in the mean time, had risen until it now reached his knees. “ Hurry ! Marie. Let me take Willie : I will carry him to the boat ; then I will come back for Anna and you. Hasten ! every moment is precious ! ” As he spoke, a trunk of a tree or a beam, he knew not which, added force to his words, for, borne by the rushing waves, it thundered like a battering-ram against the walls of the little cottage, and shook it to its foundations. Marie and the children shrieked aloud with fright. Anton heeded not this new danger, but quickly seized his trembling boy and hastened with him to the boat, where he gently placed him, commanding him to remain quiet and composed. Again returning to the little cottage, he was met by Louise, with the little Anna in her arms.

“ Brave girl ! ” cried Anton, taking the little one from her. “ Do you get in first, and I will hand you the child. Now for my dear wife, and then away, with God’s help, to the nearest hill.”

When the room was again reached, he found Marie sobbing, as she busied herself in trying to save from the flood such of their goods as lay near at hand. A drawer of her clothes-press stood open, and with trembling hands she drew forth the linen and clothing ; but either her bewilderment was too great or her strength was inadequate, for what she grasped fell again from her powerless hands, and floated about in wild confusion through the water.

“ Let be, good wife, let be ! ” cried Anton ; “ we have no time to gather the clothing from chest or press ; besides, the boat dare not be overladen, if I am to carry her safely through these wildly storming waves.”