Page:The grandmother; a story of country life in Bohemia.pdf/134

128 among us. We think of each other, pray for each other, and as we have opportunity, we send word by some friend how each one is doing. A person doesn't know where such a letter may go, and into whose hands it may fall. My father used to write letters to soldiers who went from our village and were somewhere far beyond the boundaries, so that their parents might find out whether they were alive or not, or when they wanted to send them a little money. But when they returned, they said they never got anything, and so it is, your Grace; when a letter comes from a person of the lower classes, it is very apt to remain here or there."

"You are mistaken, my good woman," quickly said the Princess, "every letter, let it come from whom it wil must come into the hands of the person to whom it is addressed. No one can keep it or open it, there is a severe penalty for this."

"It is a proper thing, and I gladly believe it; but after all, we prefer to confide in some good friend. Upon such a bit of paper one cannot put everything, and the reader would like to know this and that, and there is nobody there to ask; but when one of those good pilgrims or peddlers comes along, he tells everything word for word. I, too, should have heard more about my folks, but on account of those disturbances, there was very little travel.

"It was dark when we arrived in the village. It was summer and I knew that at that hour they would be at supper. We left the road and went through the orchard so as not to be observed. The dogs came out from our house and barked at us; I called them but they only barked the louder. The