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Page 4
The interior of the little building to which we now turn, was thus
arranged: The ground floor was divided into a kitchen and three other
apartments, viz:--a middle sized room, by favor called the parlor, in
which was generally the dwelling place of the family, and a small
chamber on either side of the parlor. One of these was the bed-chamber
of Carl Lonner, and the other was occupied by his eldest son and his
wife.
The upper story, that is, the attic, contained two divisions, and the
sole dominion of these airy apartments was granted to two younger
members of the family; the front room belonging to Nanna, and the other
to her brother Carl, known in the neighborhood by the nick-name of
"Wiseacre," and under certain circumstances as "Crazy Carl," although it
would have been difficult to find throughout the entire neighborhood a
personage wiser than honest Carl.
Throughout the entire building the marks of poverty were plainly
evident; but at the same time each object presented a tidy and cleanly
appearance and although the cottage lacked many luxuries, still comfort
seemed to reign supreme. The rush covered floor; the table, polished to
brightness; and the flower vases, filled with odorous boquets of lilacs,
the neat window curtains, the handicraft of Nanna, the crimson sofa
curtain, embroidered by the thrifty Magde, all combined, proved that the
inmates of the cottage, had not only the taste, but also the inclination
to render home pleasant even under the most adverse circumstances.
* * * * *
At the time that Nanna had started forth as a guide to the youthful
stranger, old Mr. Lonner was seated near the side of his bed in his
private apartment. Although weighed down by age and the grief that had
oppressed his early life, he nevertheless possessed that gentleness and
sociability, which had ever been the characteristic traits of his life.
His flowing white locks fell around his countenance, from which the
traces of manly beauty had not been entirely eradicated, and as he
smoked his pipe with an air of dignified pleasure, he would occasionally
glance towards a young matron, who, seated in a large arm chair, was
reading aloud a letter to him.
The letter bore the postmark of Goteborg, and was written by the old
man's eldest son, Ragnar Lonner, the husband of the matron. He was mate
of a trading vessel, and three months before had bidden farewell to his
wife and family. As she continued reading the letter, three children who
had been playing, commenced a little dispute about the proprietorship of
a large apple. In an opposite corner Carl had stationed himself. He was
a full grown youth with a face bearing an expression of mingled
silliness and wisdom.--As he glanced from under his long hair, first at
the bed-quilt, then at the quarrelling children, he paid close attention
to all that his sister-in-law was reading aloud. Carl was not the
simpleton people considered him, although his highest ambition appeared
to consist in erecting dirt houses and making mud-pies.
"Magde," said the old man, casting a glance of affection upon the
vivacious Magdalena. "You had better read that letter again. Ragnar is a
son who has his heart in the right place."
"And a husband too!" added Magde, and a flush of joyful pride overspread
her blooming cheeks.
"Yes, and a brother also; read the letter once more, it will be none
the less pleasant to read it a third time when Nanna returns."
Magde, who had not refolded the letter, commenced reading again, and her
voice trembled with pride and emotion as she read as follows:--
"Beloved Magde:
"When you shall break the seal of this letter, I feel assured that
you will wish you possessed wings that you might be enabled to fly
to your loving husband. And as I think I see you approaching me
through the air, surrounded by our little angels,--may God protect
them,--the tears start to my eyes, tears which no man should be
ashamed to shed, and I feel an inward desire to hasten to meet you.
"But now, dear Magde, I must control my thoughts, and so direct
them to you, that they shall prove intelligible. I arrived, on the
eighth day of this month, at Goteborg, in safety and in good
health. I hope our father is well and capable of enjoying as usual,
the balmy air and bright verdure of summer.
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