"Neighbors, you have been my stay in deep affliction."
A woman with a baby in her arms bade John Conrad look and see how his namesake was growing.
"If it were not for you he would be gone like his father."
Presently the children, giving up their places on the bench for places on little stools or on the earthen floor, began to whisper to one another and to point. From under the thin and ragged coat of George Reimer, the schoolmaster, projected a flute. George's own flute had been taken from him by the French soldiers, but in a few days a much finer one had been found by the roadside, dropped, probably, because the army could not carry all its own possessions in addition to those which it had stolen. It might be said that Gross Anspach retained two valuable articles, John Conrad Weiser's cow and George Reimer's flute. Behind his father's back, Conrad pretended to play a tune upon the air. At once the solemn assembly grew a little brighter. Last of all came Catrina and her husband.
At once John Conrad rose to pray. They still had God, these souls who had little else, and upon Him John Conrad called, that He might bless them in a great endeavor. At this, in spite of his better knowledge, Conrad opened his eyes and fixed them upon Margareta until she opened hers. Conrad clasped his hands tightly, scarcely able to breathe.
"Friends,"—John Conrad had closed his prayer,—"I have asked you to come here so that I might tell you of an important matter. It is not necessary that in beginning what I have to say I should remind you of our miseries and our griefs. You know them as well as I. You know that this life cannot go on; that, presently, unless we do something for ourselves, there will be none of us remaining. Our country is desolate. The soldiers have harried us, the great cold has tortured us, famine has almost made an end of us. We should not too bitterly sigh and complain on account of what has come upon us. It may be that thus God seeks to lead us to another and a better land.
"I need not tell you, either, what land I have in mind. We have spoken of it, we have seen it in our dreams, we have longed for it with all our souls. There is fertile soil, there is temperate climate, there is, above all, thank God! freedom and peace. There is no war there. There—" John Conrad halted, tried again to speak and failed.
"But we cannot get to that country!" cried the young woman with the baby in her arms.
There was a long pause. Deep breaths were drawn and a great sigh filled the little room.
"The way has been opened," announced John Conrad at last. "I and my family will go to-morrow. Let those who will come with us lift their hands."