When house and barn were completed, the first object was to secure honest, industrious German tenants to till the soil. Fritz heard of a company of emigrants, who wished to sell themselves for a specified time, in order to pay their passage; and he went on board the ship to see them. A hale man, who said he was about sixty years old, with a wife some five or six years younger, attracted his attention by their extreme cleanliness and good expression of countenance. He soon agreed to purchase them; and in order to prepare the necessary papers, he inquired their names.
“Karl Schelling and Liesbet Schelling,” replied the old man.
Fritz started, and his face flushed, as he asked, “Did you ever live in the old castle at Rüdesheim?”
“That we did for several summers,” rejoined Karl.
“Ah, can you tell us any thing of our son Fritz?” exclaimed Liesbet, eyeing him eagerly. “God bless him wherever he is! We came to America to find him.”
“Mother! Mother! do you not know me?” he said; and threw himself into her open arms, and kissed the honest, weather-beaten face.
“I see it has gone well with you, my son. Now, thanks be to God, and blessed be His holy name,” said Karl, reverently uncovering his head.
“And where is Gretchen?” inquired Fritz, earnestly.
“The All-Father took her home, to Himself, soon after you came to see us at Rüdesheim,” replied Liesbet. “She was always mourning for the brother, poor little one! It troubled us to go away and leave you behind us, without saying farewell; and I feared no blessing would follow it. But we were very poor, and we thought then we should come to you in two or three years.”
“Don’t speak of that,” said Fritz. “You were always good parents to me, and did the best you could. Blessings have followed me; and to meet you thus is the crowning blessing of all. Come, let us hasten home. I want to show you my good Röschen, and our Gretchen, and Karl, and Liesbet, and Rudolph, and baby Röschen. My small farm overlooks a river broad and beautiful as the Rhine. The rocks look like castles, and I have bought a goat for the children to play with. The roof of our cottage is thatched, and if a stork would only come and build her nest there, then dear father and mother might almost imagine themselves again at Rüdesheim, with plenty to eat, drink, and wear. If Father Rudolph’s Blacking Box were only here,” added he, laughing, “I should have all but one of my boyish dreams fulfilled. Ah, if dear Gretchen were only here!”