



Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive







Transcriber's Notes:

   1. Page scan source:
      http://www.archive.org/details/oldstoryofmyfarm03reutuoft






                               COLLECTION

                                   OF

                             GERMAN AUTHORS

                                VOL. 36.

                           *   *   *   *   *

                              AN OLD STORY
                  OF MY FARMING DAYS BY FRITZ REUTER.

                           IN THREE VOLUMES.
                               VOL. III.






                              AN OLD STORY

                           OF MY FARMING DAYS

                          _(UT MINE STROMTID)_


                                   BY
                             FRITZ REUTER,
                      AUTHOR OF "IN THE YEAR '13:"


                            FROM THE GERMAN
                                   BY
                            M. W. MACDOWALL.


                           IN THREE VOLUMES.

                               VOL. III.

                         _Authorized Edition_.




                              LEIPZIG 1878
                          BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ.

           LONDON: SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE & RIVINGTON.
                  CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET.
          PARIS: C. REINWALD & CIE, 15, RUE DES SAINTS PERES.






                              AN OLD STORY

                           UT MINE STROMTID.




                               CHAPTER I.


The day after Christmas was passed very busily in Mrs. Behrens' house
in Rahnstaedt. Louisa was continually to be seen running up and down
stairs, for she was finishing the arrangement of her father's room.
Whenever she thought it was quite ready, and looked really nice, she
was sure to find something to improve, some alteration that must be
made to ensure perfection. Dinner-time came, but her father had not
arrived, though she had prepared some little dainties especially for
him. She laid a place for him, however, as perhaps he might come before
they had finished dinner.--"I don't know why it is," she said to
little Mrs. Behrens, "but I feel as if some misfortune were going to
happen."--"What?" cried Mrs. Behrens, "you've only lived in town for
three months, and you have presentiments already like a tea-drinking
town-lady! What has become of my light-hearted country-girl?" and as
she said this, she stroked her foster-child's cheek with a tender touch
and loving smile.--"No," answered Louisa, taking the kind hand, and
holding it tight between her own, "such indefinite presentiments never
trouble me. Unfortunately it is a very definite fear lest my father
should weary of the inactivity of a town-life, after what he has been
accustomed to in the country."--"Why, child, you talk as if Rahnstaedt
were a great city; no--thank God!--the geese go about bare-foot here
just the same as at Puempelhagen, and if your father likes to see
farming-operations going on around him, he has only to watch the two
manure-carts belonging to our neighbour on the right, and the three
belonging to our neighbour on the left. If he wants to talk about
farming he need only go to our landlord Mr. Kurz, who will be too
happy to harangue him about grazing fields and town-jails till he's as
sick of these subjects as we are."--Louisa laughed, and when the
dinner-things were cleared away, she said: "Now, mother, suppose you
lie down and have a little nap, while I go down the Guerlitz road, and
see if I can't meet my father."

She put on her cloak, and a warm hood, and set off down the road, which
had always been her favourite walk since she came to Rahnstaedt, for it
was the one that led to the place where she had been so happy. When she
had time she used to go to the hill from which she could see Guerlitz
village, t he church, the parsonage, and the church-yard, and when she
had a little more time she used to run down to the parsonage to see
Lina and Godfrey, and have a talk about the old days and the new. She
walked on and on; her father was not in sight; the east-wind blew in
her face, and made her cheeks bright and rosy, so that her lovely face,
framed in her dark cloth hood, looked for all the world like a sunny
springday which gives the promise of hope