Bertha's Christmas Vision: An Autumn Sheaf

by Jr. Horatio Alger

The next morning, at the appointed time, Peter Timmerman presented himself at the Dock Yard. He set to work with an intelligence and earnestness which evinced that he was far from being a novice, and by no means inclined to be a drone. A week had not passed before he was acknowledged to be the ablest workman in the yard.

His fellow-workmen looked upon him with a little natural curiosity, and would have been very glad of his confidence. It was soon found, however, that, although asking many questions in regard to the details of his occupation, he preserved a uniform silence respecting his own family and past life, carefully evading any inquiries which the curiosity of his companions prompted. On one occasion, when some one of them pushed it to an indiscreet extent, the eyes of the Russian blazed with anger, and he lifted the tool he had in his hand in a threatening manner; but apparently reflection came to his aid, and, lowering it, he proceeded with his work. This little incident convinced his comrades, that, whatever mystery there might be connected with his past history, it would be both useless and dangerous in them to endeavor to extort it from him. Henceforth, then, he was not troubled with inquiries, but was treated with an involuntary and perhaps unconscious deference by those with whom he was brought in daily contact.

If occasionally it might be thought that he was greater than he seemed, there was nothing to confirm this idea in his mode of life.

The florin which he daily earned was the utmost limit of his expenses. No workman lived more frugally. He had secured board and lodgings at the house of a poor widow woman, the mother of one of his companions in the yard, where he paid a small price, and lived accordingly. The whole family consisted of the mother and son. This son, who was a lively and well-looking young man of one and twenty, was, next to Peter, the most skilful workman in the yard. He worked intelligently, and did not suffer his eyes to remain idle. It was his ambition to rise from the position of a mere workman, and become a master-builder.

Perhaps one thing which contributed to heighten his ambition was the fact that the superintendent of the Dock Yard possessed, among the items of his wealth, a fair, cherry-cheeked damsel, whose beauty had set half the hearts of the young men in Amsterdam on fire. Trust me, friendly reader! young men are pretty much alike all the world over; and the current of youthful feeling is just as likely to effervesce in the Hollander, phlegmatic as he is generally supposed, as in the residents of more southern climes.

But, after all, was it not foolish in the young ship-carpenter to aspire to an object so generally admired and sought after as the Fraulein superintendent? for such she was designated, out of respect for her father’s office. Perhaps it was; and yet Heinrich Dort did not think so. After all, he was the best judge in what concerned himself.

He had observed the young Fraulein’s eyes wandering toward the side of the church on which he sat, and he could not mistake the object that attracted them. Whenever the maiden saw that he was returning her gaze, she always cast down her eyes; and then, of course, she looked ten-fold as beautiful in the eyes of Heinrich Dort.

After all, the eye is more eloquent than the tongue. Heinrich thought he could not mistake it in this instance. It was certainly rather singular that the two should meet in the walk one pleasant Sabbath afternoon; and no less so, perhaps, that, precisely at the moment, the Fraulein should drop a brooch which she held in her hand. Of course, she searched for it diligently in every place but the right one; and, of course, Heinrich was required, by the claims of politeness, to volunteer his assistance. The lost ornament was soon found; but Heinrich, probably fearing it might be lost again, did not leave the Fraulein, but accompanied her, by a very round-about way, to her home. Perhaps it might have been absence of mind that made them miss the direct way,—at least, so we will conjecture, since we can do nothing more.

At all events, such was the commencement of Heinrich’s acquaintance with the Fraulein. They used to meet every Sabbath afternoon; and Heinrich, acknowledging his presumption all the time, ventured to confess that his whole hope of happiness rested upon her answer to a little question which he had to propose.