Schwester Anna; a tale of German home life

Front matter

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

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CHAPTER I. 'HE sun is just rising over the hill behind

1 Gottestreu,” where the apple trees are now covered with rosy bloom. The chickens in the small yard near the house are greeting its warm rays with shrill cries of delight. Poor Frau Scharf, a nervous invalid lady now occupying “ Zarpath,” the best room in the house, is driven nearly out of her senses by these demonstrations in the poultry yard. She has just fled from her city home to escape the noise ; but has found that in all parts of God’s world living creatures abound, and where there are living creatures there are always sounds expressive of either joy or grief. As the rays of the sun penetrate the windows in the upper stories of the building, a fresh, clear voice calls : “ Schwester Amalie! Schwester Paula ! Do you not see that the beautiful sun is giving you a morning greeting? Come! It is time to be up and about.”

At this call the two women rise quickly and

Sch wester Anna.

dress themselves. In a very short time they come down the oak staircase and busy themselves with the day’s duties. The fragrant odor of coffee quiets the excited nerves of Frau Scharf, and the noise of the chickens is stilled by a liberal breakfast.

“ Gottestreu ” — Faithfulness of God — stands on a side hill, close by the small village of Neuenhain, in the Taunus Mountains. Built in imitation of a Swiss cottage, having broad verandas and low-hanging roofs, it adds picturesqueness to a scene which is already charming. The smalt village is interesting in itself. Beneath its long avenue of tall and stately poplars comfortable benches invite the weary travelers to rest. Its red-tiled houses, whose plastered walls are covered with irregular designs formed by beams of dark wood, are crowded up against each other as though the occupants feared the same foes that threatened their forefathers centuries before and forced them to seek strength in union. Its curious church, with odd gables and old gray walls, looks down upon the quiet town.

On the left of the avenue of poplars, not far from an old pump where the villagers were wont to draw water years ago, but which now stands idle and covered with moss, a narrow path descends a steep hill. It passes along patches of bright, green grass, where a few daisies and plenty of buttercups are blooming, until it reaches the gate of “ Gottestreu.” Then it winds on down another little hill and joins the broad yellow road which passes around the back of the house. Three stone steps lead from the gate to the garden of “ Gottestreu.” All around is a mixture of beauty and usefulness. Here is a bed of azure flags, there a bunch of lettuce ; here some laughing pansies, there a prosaic cluster of cabbages. Along the fence a cherry tree has been trained ; its branches having been twined in and out while they were young and supple, until now they cover the rough boards. The blossoms have already shed their white petals, and tiny green cherries are forming, promises of clusters of red richness later on. Paths wind in and out among beds of flowers and vegetables, of fragrant roses and tender seedlings. Two summer houses, covered with climbing vines, look inviting and restful. Right in front of the house is a bed of gravel, kept in perfect order. Every morning early Schwester Paula does as she is doing now — rakes it until it is as smooth as a floor and carefully picks up every bit of paper or tiny leaf that has fallen on it.

Schwester Anna.

A loud-ringing bell startles Schwester Paula, and she hurries through the broad doorway. Inside all is cool and pleasant. On the left is a long room, lighted by two large windows. Its floor is of hard wood, guiltless of carpet and spotlessly clean. In one corner stands a dark-brown porcelain stove, in another is an organ, above which hanging bookshelves hold some Bibles, hymn books, and a few other volumes. Near one window a table stands. It is covered with newspapers, all in the German language, some of which have found their way across the ocean from America. On one side of the room is a large sofa. A good clock marks the flight of time, and various verses of Scripture, prettily illuminated, decorate the well-papered walls. This is the dining room of “ Gottestreu.” And what is “ Gottestreu ? ” It is the rest home for the Methodist deaconesses in the German Fatherland ; the home to which they come when worn and weary with caring for the sick and dying, with cheering and comforting the poor and needy. It is the house where the deaconesses are received when convalescent, and where those whom they nurse are sometimes sent to breathe the pure country air.

At the head of the table sits a woman of possibly fifty years, with hair as white as snow. A white cap, tied under the chin with a broad bow, brings out the sweetness of her face. Her blue and white cambric dress, with a little shoulder cape, is finished at the neck with a deep, white collar. Reverently she lifts her hand, and they all bow their heads. “ Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest, and bless the food thou hast given us. Amen,” comes in the German from her lips, and then the women begin drinking their hot coffee and eating the fresh rolls, still warm from the oven of the village baker. There is no man at the table. The head sister, Schwester Lena, two others who assist her with the work, and a visiting deaconess, in whose sunken face one sees already the marks of death, are all that are in the house at present, for it is only the last of May.

“ Well, sisters, there is plenty of work to do to-day, is there not ? ” says Schwester Lena.

“Yes, indeed,” replies one of the other deaconesses. “ For outside of its being Saturday, when there is always so much to be done to get ready for the holy Sabbath, we must clean that corner room and get it ready for Schwester Anna.”

“ O, my dear, not one of us has forgotten that she comes to-day. Dear girl ! ”

Sch wester Anna.

Who is Schwester Anna?” asked another deaconess, who had not been long in the Society of Bethany.

“ I forgot that thou didst not know her, Schwester Paula,” replied the older woman. “ Schwester Anna comes from Frankfort, where she has been a deaconess for five years. There is no one of us who has done more to help on the cause of our Saviour than she has. She has given up a beautiful home to live among the poor. She is not only lovely in person, but in heart. Thou, as a beginner, wilt do well to imitate her in every way. Let us give thanks, sisters.” Then with a short prayer the early breakfast was finished, and each one went to her work.

“ I am anxious to see Schwester Anna,” said Paula.

“ Well, she is a good woman,” responded Amalie ; “ but it does seem sometimes as if some folks had all the good looks and got all the credit for making sacrifices, when some others never get any credit for anything.” She wiped away a tear, for poor, plain Schwester Amalie did not possess the quality of being attractive, and, as she said truly, did not always get a full reward for her good deeds. Her body was frail and her labor hard.

“ Gottestreu."

Paula, on the other hand, was a happy-golucky girl, strong of body and excellent for housework, but, alas, with very little aptitude for the finer work of nursing. She was more disposed to jerk the poor, weak patient out of bed, in the exuberance of her spirits, than she was to move him quietly and gently. On this account, she was still on probation, and the puzzled head of the society had sent her out into the country to help Schwester Lena with the housework, while he meditated on the best thing to do with this very willing but too active sister.

Schwester Anna.

CHAPTER II. MUST make some ‘ nudeln ’ for to-mor

1 row’s dinner,” said Schwester Amalie, as she passed into the pleasant kitchen with “ Salem ” written over the door in old German characters. It had been a pretty idea of some one when this rest-home was built, to put Bible names over the door of each room, and thus call down a blessing on those who entered.

Amalie worked the flour and eggs and water together with a skillful hand. She added some other ingredients to the mixture, rolled the paste out very thin, cut it into narrow strips, and put it away in the closet. To-morrow it would grace the dinner table, and praises would be showered upon Amalie, who was an excellent cook.

“ And I must go up and dress Fraulein Krumm, and take Frau Scharf her breakfast,” said Paula. “ Ach, du liebe zeit ! ” (which phrase in German means, “O dear!” but is a great deal more expressive.)

Schwester Lena was just coming in the door and heard this long-drawn sigh.

“ Schwester Paula, how canst thou speak so ? ” she cried, sorrowfully. “ That is our work.”

“ I know it, Schwester Lena, but I would rather carry water for the garden all day than dress Fraulein Krumm. But I’ll do my best,” and Paula went sadly up the stairs. Doubtless Fraulein Krumm wished she had been sent to water the garden instead of to dress her, for though Paula tried very hard, her large hands could not arrange the old lady’s silvered hair •in the smooth bands in which her soul delighted, and the stumbling feet would so frequently knock against the gouty ones. However, it was finished at last, a shawl was wrapped around the invalid, a broad hat shaded her face, and with the aid of Paula’s strong arm and a stout cane she was assisted out on the veranda and comfortably settled in an armchair.

As the two women stepped out of the door they involuntarily drew a long breath. What a glorious day it was! All down tFe valley were small fields of grass, some light, some dark, some mown, some with grass so tall that the light breeze moved it in long waves. Here and there the peasant women in their short dresses were cutting the hay and binding it into sheaves to bear away on their heads.

Schwester Anna.

Several tiny gardens were being industriously cultivated by their owners, who were principally women, for the men were off at harder labor. Away down the hill lay Soden, where the famous springs are ; across the plain were three other small towns, whose red-roofed houses were shining in the sunlight. Clear across the wide valley, on the left, shone the towers of Frankfort, and far away on the right were the green mountains of the Odenwald, where the ruins of the once magnificent castle of Heidelberg keep watch as the centuries roll by. Off to the right of “Gottestreu ” lay a deep chestnut wood with glints of sunshine piercing its heavy shadows. Up through the village, on the left, under the quivering shade of the graceful poplars, came the huge, yellow post wagon, whose driver, in his queer round hat and uniform of two centuries ago, was blowing his bugle horn melodiously to let Neuenhainers know that the “ Emperor’s post ” had arrived. Up in the tall church steeple the bell struck ten clear strokes.

“ How I wish I could walk! ” said Fraulein Krumm. “ It seems to me as if I shall die, living out my life in this way, sitting from morning till night, helpless and alone.” The poor lady’s lips trembled. Hers was, indeed.

A Day of Work.

a hard fate ; crippled and swelled with gout in both hands and feet, she was wandering from doctor to doctor, from place to place, seeking health, but finding it not.

“ It does seem hard,” said Paula, “ when the dear Lord has put so many beautiful things in the world, that you shouldn’t have a chance to go around and see them. But you do good to others by your suffering, for it teaches them to be patient and thankful. Here I am, just as , strong as can be, and I can’t seem to do anyone any good, nor even to do my duty as I might. I have hurt you and bothered you this morning and you never said a word. But I must go to Frau Scharf,” she added, before Fraulein Krumm could enter a word of remonstrance.

Thus the day wore on. One sister worked in the heat of the kitchen, the other hoed in the garden, scrubbed the halls, cleaned the rooms, while the presiding genius of the house was everywhere, reprimanding and overseeing all judiciously. On Saturday there was double work to be done, for these simple-hearted Christian women took the Scripture injunction concerning work on the Sabbath literally, and by Saturday night all must be finished.

The invalids were helped down stairs to eat

Schwester Anna.

dinner in the airy dining room. The afternoon passed away ; the sun crept around to the other side of the house, then went lower and lower until it neared the horizon. The heavily loaded hay wagons, drawn by a team of cows, toiled up the hill on their homeward journey. A barefooted girl came around the corner of the house carrying a large pail of warm, fresh milk for supper.

Why, I do believe it is nearly time for that train to come,” exclaimed Schwester Lena.

What time is it, Schwester Amalie ? ”

“ Just seven,” was the reply.

“ Then I must hurry and change my dress, or I shall not be ready. Hast thou put fresh linen and a bunch of bluebells on the table ? Thou knowest Schwester Anna loves bluebells* Hast thou fried the cutlets and dressed the salad ? Thou must do all well to-night.”

“ I have done all,” said the weary voice of Am^ilie, and she added to herself, Ah, me ! I wonder whoy^ill ever make so much fuss over me?”

When the older woman had put on her soft black cashmere gown, with its short, round cape and spotless linen; she came out on the veranda to look. At seven-twenty the train would be due at Soden, and fifteen minutes

A Day of Work.

before it arrived it could be seen across the valley. Yes, there it was. A tiny wreath of smoke was floating away on the wind, now it was possible to see a black, snaky object moving irregularly from village to village ; mow it had stopped at Sulzbach, and there it waits five minutes to let out a crowd of workmen and allow the up-train for Frankfort to pass ; it is coming on, one can see the cars ; it has reached Soden, and the white smoke rises in masses as the tired engine rests from its labors.

Schwester Lena is getting quite excited. Her cheeks have a pretty rosy color in them, and her eyes are tender and soft. Her Liebling ” is coming nearer every moment. She has now had time to reach the post office, where the diligence waits ; but they are always so slow in Soden. At last the faint sound of the post horn is heard far down the hill. It comes nearer. The yellow wagon, drawn by its old, fat horses, toils slowly up the steep hill between the poplar trees ; it is in front of the inn of the “ Three Bears;” it has stopped. Yes, there is the white cap, and the black dress is plainly visible as a woman comes along the narrow path up to the front gate.

The head sister does not move from her position on the veranda. It is for the young 2

Schwester Anna.

woman to come to greet her ; it would be undignified to rush to meet her guest, but her heart rejoices as she sees the slender figure approaching swiftly. A moment more and soft arms are about the elderly woman’s neck, fragrant kisses are showered upon her cheeks, and a melodious voice asks : Art thou not glad to see me, dear Schwester Lena ? ”

“ Indeed I am, my dear; but now thou must come in and rest, and see the other sisters.”

Who are here now ? ”

“ Schwester Amalie, whom thou knowest, and a new sister, Paula. Thou must lend us thine aid with this young sister. Thou wilt see that she needs thee.”

So they go in to the cutlets and the salad. As they eat, Schwester Paula steals frequent glances at the newcomer. She sees a face full of peace — the peace of God. It is a face showing lines of care and sorrow ; a face that bears the marks of suffering. The forehead is broad, white, and rather low. The soft, light hair is parted and combed down as smoothly as possible under the white cap. But it is not possible to control and regulate the little curls that creep out and soften the outline of the sweet face. The features are regular, eyes are a soft dark blue, shaded with long lashes, and the

A Day of Work.

mouth is firm and clear-cut. When she smiles she discloses a few dimples, which are not considered a requisite when a deaconess is chosen. Her chief beauty is her hand, white, shapely, and strong. Schwester Paula stares so hard that she forgets that her mouth is wide open until she meets the full gaze of Anna’s large eyes and sees the dimples appear.

The deaconess work in Frankfort forms the chief topic of conversation at supper. Then, as the shadows fall, the Bibles are brought, a chapter in the gospel of St. John is read, one of the dear old German hymns is sung by these sweet-voiced women, and then Schwester Lena says : “ Schwester Anna, wilt thou pray ? ”

They all kneel reverently, and like music the prayer arises to God. It is perfectly simple, perfectly childlike, but their hearts are lifted freely to God, and his blessing rests upon the worshiping women.

I never heard anything like that prayer,” murmured poor Paula, to herself ; “ God

seemed to be right there in the room.”

Soon the bell on the old church rang out the curfew. Schwester Paula crept around quietly, gathering up the shoes to clean them, in order that there should be less to do on the Lord’s Day, and night fell on “ Gottestreu.”

Sch wester Anna.

CHAPTER III. Sabbath at Neuenhain

[The Journal qf Schwester Anna.]

Neuenhain, May 21.

T last I feel at rest ! During the past three months I have seen so much sorrow, so much pain, that it seemed as if my heart were filled with a weight of care ; that I was bearing the sufferings of this poor world on my shoulders instead of leaving them to the dear, loving Saviour, who has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.”

Here at Neuenhain all is quiet and peace. Schwester Lena has given me one of the rooms on the top floor ; “ Hermon ” is the name, restful in itself. The peaked roof slopes down on either side of my room, and in an alcove under it stands my narrow bed, draped in snowy white. From my window I can look far away across the plain, and see the river Main winding back and forth through the valley. This morning early I heard the church bells ring for mass, and at the same time a little bird, perched on the cherry tree in front of my window, sang me a morning greeting. I got up and stood at the window, looking out upon

Sabbath at Neuenhain.

the beautiful things which God has given us — at the wonderful mingling of green and blue, of brown and gray, all covered with a glory of golden sunlight. Could I do less than kneel down and thank him for allowing us to live in such a lovely world ? And then my thoughts went back to my city home, to the dark streets, the overcrowded rooms, the sickness, and the sorrow, and I prayed for those who never had seen this landscape, and whose hearts never had been filled with the sunshine of God’s presence.

Soon the dear voice of Schwester Lena called, Schwester Anna, art thou ready ? The coffee is on the table,” and I hurried down.

Now, on Sunday morning we have a feast at “ Gottestreu.” Instead of our customary rolls Schwester Amalie makes delicious “ butterkuchen,” with a sprinkling of sugar and cinnamon on the top, and very good they are too. It is also the custom, I find, to have a short prayer service after the coffee. It Wc^s very enjoyable. We sang several of our good old hymns, and then each of us prayed. I was especially pleased with Schwester Paula’s prayer. It was very simple and plain, but I am sure that she has a good heart under all her uncouthness, and that she will yet be a blessing to our work.

Schwester Anna.

Schwester Amalie called after me, as I was going up to my room, “ Schwester Anna, wilt thou go to church with us ? ” I gladly replied, “ Yes."

So we went down the little path and up the steep ^hill to the old church. They have a curious way here of utilizing this one place of worship for both Catholics and Protestants. Just as the bell had called the pious Catholics to early mass at five o’clock, it now notified all good Lutherans that service would soon begin. We Methodists attend the Lutheran church when we have no service of our own, and we took our places with the others.

How my mind reverted to former years as I sat on the straight, wooden bench and heard the singing of the Psalms ! The boy-choir was shouting heartily: ^‘The earth is the Lord’s, and the fullness thereof ; the world, and they that dwell therein.’’ I could not help thinking of that old church in Wittenberg, long years ago. My mother sat near me, my father was on her other side ; across the aisle sat Gottfried Herrmann, my childhood’s playmate. We were all singing, just as to-day, “ The earth is the Lord’s,” “Lift up your heads, O ye gates; even lift them up, ye everlasting doors ; and the King of glory shall come in.” But the vision

Sabbath at Neuenhain.

soon passed. My father I shall never see again in this world ; my mother sits alone in the old home ; and Gottfried, my fair-haired, sunnyfaced friend — where is he ? It seems as if my heart would break, if it were not for the love of our Father in heaven.

“ Schwester Anna,” whispered Paula, “ hast thou noticed the image of the virgin, decorated with colored paper flowers, up behind that iron railing ? ”

“ Yes,” I answered.

“ Well, that is where the priest says mass, but thou seest that Pastor Frombach does not enter there ; he conducts his service this side of it. See, there come the pastor’s family now, going into that funny little box. They say he has at least five hundred thousand marks, but his daughters don’t ” —

“Hush! Schwester Paula,” said Amalie. “ Canst thou not cease thy talking even in church ? Thou hast disturbed Schwester Anna greatly.”

“ O, no 1 indeed she has not,” I hastened to reply, for I felt that it was a good thing to have my vain imaginings and longings interrupted.

Since my Gottfried went away to America I have tried to know as much of that country as possible, and have read a good many books

Schwester Anna.

about it. An American lady in Frankfort, whom I was nursing, lent me a book called Hyperion, a most beautiful description of our beloved fatherland, in which Mr. Longfellow says : “ Look not mournfully into the past ; it comes not back again. Wisely improve the present ; it is thine. Go forth to meet the dim and shadowy future without fear and with a manly heart.” This I must try to do. But I fear that my mind wandered during the pastor’s long discourse, and I was glad when we were home again.

On alternate Sundays one of our preachers comes to Neuenhain and holds service for our little company of Methodists in a small room. As this was the day when there is no meeting, we three sisters went out in the afternoon and walked through the chestnut grove, up into the grain fields. The cornflowers and poppies have not come yet, but it will not be long before the bright blue and scarlet blossoms will mingle their colors with the yellow grain.

“ Dost thou know, Schwester Anna, that there is much suffering among the poor even here in Neuenhain?” asked Paula. ‘‘The drought has been very bad this year, and the poor peasants are cutting their grain while it is green, to provide food for their cattle.”

Sabbath at Neuenhain.

“Yes,” added Amalie ; “ it is even so. And thou wilt notice the little patches of garden, how dry they are, and see how the ground is cracked here in the grain fields.”

I could seethe fissures in the dry earth. We city people, while enjoying the beautiful clear air of this month, have not realized that it might mean poverty and ruin to some persons.

“ Look now,” said Paula, “ and thou wilt see Frau Craper carrying down the pails of water to sprinkle her few lettuce and potato plants. The peas, too, are just up. They grow very slowly in this dry weather. I went to see her yesterday, and she said that her back ached all the time. I offered to rub it for her with some liniment, but after a short time she begged me to stop. She said I rubbed so hard that the skin would soon be rubbed off.”

“ What didst thou do then ? ” I asked, being much interested in this odd sister.

“ O, I stopped, for I knew my hand was a little rough. Really, though, I meant to help her, and I thought the best way to do that was to water her garden for her.”

“ Well, thou wilt not get much time for that. Thou hast all thou canst do now to water our garden. It almost kills me to help thee,” said Amalie.

Sch wester Anna.

I can manage it. I went out last evening, after I had finished all the work, and gave the poor plants a better drink than they have had in a long while. And to-morrow morning, if I get up an hour earlier, I can do it before Schwester Lena is awake.”

“ Do so, if thou wishest,” rejoined Schwester Amalie ; “ but our own work is all that I can do.”

“ Thou canst nurse, and I can’t,” responded Paula. “ But, thank God, I can at least carry the heavy weights for the weak ones.”

I am very glad to meet Schwester Paula. She has a noble character, I am convinced.

Just as we were nearing home, Schwester Amalie returned again to the subject of the dry weather. I am sure we shall have sickness this summer, after all the drought. Thou wilt need all thy strength, Schwester Anna.”

“ Why dost thou think so ? ” I asked.

“ It is always so. If we do not have the cholera this summer, I am a poor prophet.”

“The cholera!” called Schwester Lena’s voice. “ Schwester Amalie, I am astonished that thou shouldst even suggest it to Schwester Anna, who is already so worn out with work. Thou art ever looking on the dark side of things. Come into the house, sisters. It is getting cool, now that the sun is down,’

Sabbath at Neuenhain.

The sun had gone down behind the hill, but “ the soft twilight lingered, and the air was fragrant with the delicate odor of apple blossoms.

“ Sch wester Lena may say that I am a dark prophet ; but thou wilt see. Before the summer is past there will be calls for nurses for cholera patients.”

“ If so, I shall go,” said Paula. “ I am sure that my strong arms would be of use there.”

“ It would scarcely be any use for me to go, for I should be sure to catch the cholera,” responded Amalie. But, as ill luck would have it, Schwester Lena heard the last word, and Amalie was hurried off to get the supper on the table.

This evening we sat on the veranda, singing some of our twilight hymns, and watching the light twinkle all over the valley. Across at the inn of the “ Three Bears ” a merry party was singing a “ Volkslied,” and answering voices came from the hill behind our house.

This is my first entry in my new journal. It is for you that I write it, mother. I have not forgotten your request that I should begin it, although I have waited until my vacation, in order that I might have more leisure time in which to write. You told me it would be a comfort