Page - 153 - in The Forest Farm - Tales of the Austrian Tyrol
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You can’t have heard such a thing said about me, for, thank God, I don’t need
it. Once I myself propose to carry anything, I carry it gratis. I heard that your
wife wanted to go to Tom of the Footpath and that she had no trap of any
kind. My mother, God rest her soul, was also ill for a long time; I know what
it means: it’s a misery. If you like, woodman, I’ll drive your wife over to Tom
of the Footpath to-morrow.”
Then we all felt really glad. We did not give a further thought to the
question whether the long drive would do good or harm, or whether the new
physic would take effect, or how the illness would turn out afterwards. To
Tom of the Footpath, just to Tom of the Footpath: that would put everything
right.
I was awakened early next day, when the morning star peeped through the
great black ash-trees. Father had to stay behind to look after the farm; and I,
the thirteen-year-old lad, must go with mother to see that nothing happened to
her. Mother was already at her breakfast and did as if she thoroughly relished
the milk-porridge. Carrier Steve and I ate a bowl of curds and whey and then
we drove off. Steve sat on the little driver’s seat and talked out loud to his
nag, telling it to be a good horse and trot over the mountains briskly “so that
we can bring woodman’s wife home again before the day is out.” My mother
sat, wrapped up in all her clothes, and my father’s storm-cloak into the
bargain, on a leather cushion, with straw at her feet and a heavy blanket over
all, allowing only a part of her head to show above it. I sat beside this sick-
bed and was heavy at heart.
It was still chilly night; the sky began to turn a little pale over the
Wechselberg. The road led across the meadows. Now the birds woke; now the
glory of the dawn commenced; now the great sun rose in the heavens. My
mother drew back the blanket a little and gazed up at the sun:
“I feel full of hope,” she whispered and felt for my hand, “if only the
summer helps a bit and Tom of the Footpath too. After all, I’m not so old yet.
What do you think, my child? Shall I be able to look at the world again a hale
woman?”
I was as confident as she; I felt quite relieved. The morning sun! The dear
warm morning sun!
Mother became chatty.
“It’s silly, when you come to think of it,” she said, suddenly, and laughed
almost aloud, “how fond a body is of being in the world. Of course, I should
be sorry to leave my folk. And it would be a pity for my Lenzel, your father,
to be left all alone; the children are so small yet.”
The Forest Farm
Tales of the Austrian Tyrol
- Title
- The Forest Farm
- Subtitle
- Tales of the Austrian Tyrol
- Author
- Peter Rosegger
- Publisher
- The Vineyard Press
- Location
- London
- Date
- 1912
- Language
- English
- License
- PD
- Size
- 21.0 x 29.7 cm
- Pages
- 169
- Categories
- Geographie, Land und Leute
- International