Chapter X: Conclusion

PHILIP had a prosperous journey homeward, and found Gustaf on the lookout for him a little beyond the village.

"Oh, Philip, are you come? Won't you take me up, please?"

"You shall ride all alone, and I will walk beside you," said Philip, dismounting and putting Gustaf into the saddle, but keeping his own hand on the bridle.

"Has anything happened at home?"

"Brother Gotthold has come; and only think, Philip! He is going to America. I wish he would take me."

"Perhaps we shall all go some time," said Philip, thinking as he spoke that the way was already opening for his scheme.

"Really?" said Gustaf with sparkling eyes.

"Yes, really; but you must not tell any one. Show now that you are a man and can keep a secret. How is the mother?"

"I don't know," replied Gustaf, his face saddening. "She does not cry; but she looks—oh, so sad! Did you hear any news?"

"Yes, plenty; but I must tell mother first. You shall hear."

Philip found the preacher seated by the fireside. He was growing old, but his frame seemed as vigorous and his mind as clear and active as ever.

Gertrude received her son with a warm and silent embrace. She hastened to provide supper for him, but never asked a question as to the success of his errand till he had eaten and seated himself by the fire. And Philip, who had a comprehension of and sympathy with his mother's moods to which Greta could never attain, said nothing of all that was in his mind.

At last Gertrude asked a question: "You have news, my son? Good or bad?"

"Good, I trust, mother—not absolutely certain, but probably so. I believe I have reason to think my father may be alive and doing well."

There was a dead silence while Philip told his tale.

"And is that all?" said Greta, in a tone of deep disappointment, as he paused. "I do not see that it comes to anything. One man told another that my father was living somewhere in that great wilderness—that is all."

"Not exactly so, Greta. He was living in a town in one of the smaller provinces—Jersey is its name. It is not a wilderness, since old Martin told me they have fine towns, farms, and churches, and even a college."

"A college! Yes, that is very likely!"

"I believe it is true," said Brother Gotthold. "There are several colleges in America, and many fine towns, as I can show you, since I have in my pocket a map of the country. The city to which I am going—Philadelphia—is a very large and fine one, I hear."

"Larger than Eisenach?" asked Gustaf.

"Oh yes, much larger, and a place of great wealth and trade. See, here it is; and here, across this great river, is the province of which Philip speaks."

All crowded round to look at the map, which Brother Gotthold spread out on the table. It was a tolerably good one, shading off at the west into indefinite space, but with the eastern provinces plainly laid down.

"What a great country!" said Gustaf. "Is it bigger than Germany?"

"Yes, larger than all Germany, and Holland thrown in."

"Yes, here is Jersey," said Philip.

"If one only knew in what town to look!" sighed Greta.

"There are not so many but that one might look in all of them in the course of a year," said Philip, attentively studying the map. "They seem to have roads, too."

"What are you thinking of, my son?" said his mother. "I can see that you have some plan in your head?"

"First tell me, dear mother, is it still your wish to go and live in America?"

"It is, more than ever if that were possible," said Gertrude, firmly. "I wish we were ready to depart when Brother Gotthold goes next month, but that cannot be."

"Then, mother, this is my plan," said Philip: "Let me go out with Brother Gotthold. Once in America, I will visit in turn every town and village in Jersey, and seek everywhere for news of my father. Meantime, I can also be seeking out a home for the rest of you, and making it ready against your coming. Or should I find the country totally unfit for us, I can return, and the loss will be less than if we all went."

"How can you come back when you have spent all your money?" asked Greta.

"I will go to work and earn more," answered Philip. "I remember Count Maurice said labour was never to seek there."

"And if you are burned by the Indians or hung by the Yankees?" said Greta.

"There is little danger of that," remarked Brother Gotthold. "The Indians are only troublesome on the western border, and the Americans are a kind and humane people, and very hospitable to strangers."

"So old Martin says. He told me that at first, when the Hessian prisoners were sent through the country to the place where they were to be kept, the people railed at them. But the great American general—Washington is his name—caused notice to be published everywhere that the Hessians had not come to fight of their own free will, but because they were forced to do so. After that they were treated with the greatest kindness, the country-people bringing out provisions for them and comforts for the sick and wounded. * If they would do that in time of war, they would not be less kind in time of peace."

* See "The Journal of a Hessian Officer," quoted by Irving.

"But the people speak English, I understand, Philip, and you know no English."

"I must learn what I can on the voyage. I presume some one on the ship will speak it."

"I will teach you," said Brother Gotthold. "English is regularly studied in all our schools, as the missionaries never know when they may be sent to some of the English-speaking colonies. I have been making a business of perfecting myself in the language of late, and it will help me greatly to impart what I have learned."

It struck Philip as curious that both the preacher and his mother spoke of his proposed journey as already a settled matter.

"Perhaps we have talked enough for to-night," said he. "To-morrow we will take it up again."

"And if you do go on this wild-goose chase—for such I must say it seems to me—who is to take care of my mother and the farm while you are away?"

"My mother herself, with you and Gustaf to help her; and Louis Rosekranz, perhaps," answered Philip. "We shall see about that. But you must allow, sister, that if we make this move, on which my mother's heart is set, it is better for me to go first."

"Yes, 'if' we go. I wish we had never thought of going," said Greta, vehemently.

"Why, Greta, you used to be the most earnest in the scheme of any of us. You used to accuse me of being a spoil-sport if I said a word against it, and you declared you would rather dwell in a cabin in the woods than live in a palace in the landgrave's dominions."

"What signifies bringing up every idle word one ever spoke?" said Greta, pettishly. "I was a child, and did not know what I was talking about. But I see there is no use in talking, since you have mother on your side. Nobody cares what I think or feel about anything."

The next day the matter was discussed in all its length and breadth in a grave family council, to which Uncle Franz and Louis Rosekranz were called.

Uncle Franz growled a little, thought it better to let well alone, but on the whole did not offer as much opposition as had been expected.

Louis Rosekranz was fired with enthusiasm at the very idea. He had been talking with the returned veterans, and had his head full of wonderful stories. Besides that, he had known a man who went to America with only his hands and tools, and now wrote back that he owned a hundred acres of land all his own. There were forests full of deer, bears, and wolves, rivers swarming with fish, and birds like the quails that the doctor read of from the Scripture. He would go with Philip himself, only that Uncle Franz needed him just now. His part should be to see that his aunt never wanted for anything which the most devoted son could give her while Philip was away.

Greta tossed her head and murmured something about people's waiting till they were asked, but it was noticeable that she entirely withdrew her opposition to Philip's plans, and worked with great zeal to further his preparations.

But unexpected delays occurred. The season was far advanced. A winter voyage was dangerous, and Brother Gotthold's directors decided that he had better wait till spring. Philip spent the winter in diligently studying English, and in carving for Herr von Falkenstein's cat such a basin and platter as drew forth the old gentleman's utmost approbation. It was not till April that Philip and his friend set sail, with every prospect of a prosperous voyage.

It was in the middle of June, 1783, that Caspar Reinhart called at the office of Fussell & Edelman, on the wharf at Philadelphia. They were German merchants, and he had been directed to them as the persons most likely to tell him what he wished to know.

"You are just in time," said old Mr. Fussell when he learned the stranger's business. "There is a ship from Hamburg just coming up the river at this moment. She has some emigrants on board, they tell me, and perhaps you may find friends among them. If you will wait a little, we will go down and see."

"If you please, sir, the 'Gem' has just come up to her berth," said a porter, hearing his employer's words.

"Good!" said the old man. "We will go down directly. Rather better to have peaceful merchantmen coming up the river than transports full of troops, eh?"

Caspar assented heartily. He was standing on the dock, rather sadly watching the passengers as they landed, when a hand was laid on his arm, and he turned round to see a tall, handsome youth, so like his youngest brother that he started as if he had seen a ghost.

"Father! Don't you know your little Philip?"

"My son, my son!—But your mother, dear boy?" said Caspar, after the first agitated greetings were over.

"Alive and well, dear father; but I have much to tell you."

"We will talk it all over at home, my boy. For I have a home fairer than the old one at Nonnenwald. I have made it ready, and this very day I came to find means of going to bring you all over. Thank Heaven, we did not miss each other on the way!"

In the course of another year, Gertrude Reinhart was fairly established in the tall white house, wondering greatly at American ways, but conforming to them quite as well as could be expected.

In another house not far away, Louis Rosekranz and his young wife were settled; and Louis was learning that in order to live even in America, he must attend to his farming and leave the game to take care of itself. He had discovered that it would never do to let his aunt take such a long journey alone; and having inherited a small property from his father, he determined to use it in purchasing a farm in the New World.

Gustaf went to school, helped his father in the shop, worked in the garden, and made himself useful and liked everywhere.

Philip's mind had for some time been turning strongly toward the ministry, and Brother Gotthold, whom he had consulted, encouraged him in the idea, seeing in him gifts and dispositions eminently suited for the work. His father was in easy circumstances and growing richer year by year, and he was both able and willing to afford his son all the help he needed. In a year from his landing, Philip was ready to enter Princeton College, from which he graduated with credit; and not long after, he was settled as pastor in one of the towns which were springing up all over the country. He married a wife who was a true help to him—a vivacious little gray-eyed woman, who, when she wished to coax her father-in-law to come and visit her, used to address him by the title of "Mr. Hessian."

Recompense Joake used to sometimes remark that if it did not seem like boasting, he should think he had done a good thing in nursing Caspar through that fever.

Several children were added to the household of Caspar and Gertrude Reinhart, and Greta sometimes found herself confused between her children and her brothers and sisters, but this circumstance is not supposed to have caused any serious inconvenience. The descendants of the two families are among the most respected citizens of New Jersey and various other States.

A certain Louis Rosekranz remarked the other day that he thought he had a right to go to the Centennial, because his great-grandfather fought in the war of the Revolution.

"On which side?" asked his father, smiling.

"Bother!" said Louis. "I never thought of that!"

THE END.