Fritz and Eric, by John Conroy 
Hutcheson 
 
The Project Gutenberg EBook of Fritz and Eric, by John Conroy 
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Title: Fritz and Eric The Brother Crusoes 
Author: John Conroy Hutcheson 
Release Date: April 16, 2007 [EBook #21108] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ASCII 
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FRITZ 
AND ERIC *** 
 
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England 
 
Fritz and Eric, or the Brother Crusoes 
by John Conroy Hutcheson 
_________________________________________________________
______This is rather an extraordinary book, because it consists of two
rather different eras in the lives of two brothers. In the first the brother 
Fritz takes part in the Franco-Prussian war of 1870-71, and is severely 
wounded, but survives - just. He is tended by a beauteous maiden, with 
whom he falls in love. 
Meanwhile the brother Eric has gone to sea in what turns out to be a 
rotten old vessel, which sinks in southern waters. There are some 
survivors, but Eric is not among them, and is presumed dead. 
Fritz departs for America, and is wondering how to get a job. He meets 
a whaling captain and they are having a chat in a bar when who should 
appear but Eric, who has had a miraculous rescue, but has never had a 
chance of writing home. The two brothers decide they will get the 
whaling ship to drop them off on a very remote island in the South 
Atlantic, Inaccessible Island, where they will spend a year sealing, and 
make their fortunes from the skins they get during the year. 
There are many vicissitudes, and they do make their fortunes, but not 
from sealing. There are so many tense situations, so very well 
described, that the book might almost have come from the pen of 
George Manville Fenn. A well-written and interesting book, and with a 
very good description of the Franco-Prussian War, the war which is so 
often forgotten about. N.H. 
_________________________________________________________
_____ 
FRITZ AND ERIC; OR, THE BROTHER CRUSOES 
BY JOHN CONROY HUTCHESON 
CHAPTER ONE. 
"GOOD-BYE!" 
"Time is getting on, little mother, and we'll soon have to say farewell!" 
"Aye, my child. The parting is a sad one to me; but I hope and trust the 
good God will hold you in His safe keeping, and guide your footsteps
back home to me again!" 
"Never you fear, little mother. He will do that, and in a year's time we 
shall all meet again under the old roof-tree, I'm certain. Keep your heart 
up, mother mine, the same as I do; remember, it is not a `Farewell' I am 
saying for ever, it is merely `Auf wiedersehen!'" 
"I hope so, Eric, surely; still, we cannot tell what the future may bring 
forth!" said the other sadly. 
Mother and son were wending their way through the quaint, 
old-fashioned, sleepy main street of Lubeck that led to the railway 
station--a bran-new modern structure that seemed strangely 
incongruous amidst the antique surroundings of the ancient town. 
Although it was past the midday hour, hardly a soul was to be seen 
moving about; and the western sun lighted up the green spires of the 
churches and red-tiled pointed roofs of the houses, glinting from the 
peculiar eye-shaped dormer windows of some of the cottages with the 
most grotesque effect and making them appear as if winking at the 
onlooker. It seemed like a scene of a bygone age reproduced on the 
canvas of some Flemish artist; and, but that Eric and his mother were 
accustomed to it, they must have rubbed their eyes, like Rip Van 
Winkle when he came down from the goblin-haunted mountain into the 
old village of his youth, in doubt whether all was real, thinking it might 
be a dream. Presently, however, they were at the railway station, and 
they would have been convinced, if they had felt inclined to believe 
otherwise, that they were living in the present. But, even here, amid all 
the hissing of steam, and creaking of carriages, and whirr of moving 
machinery, the queer old-world costumes of the peasantry, with their 
quaint hats and mantles, which more resembled the stage properties of 
a Christmas pantomime than the known dress of any people of the 
period, all spoke of the past--a past when the great Barbarossa reigned 
in Central Europe, and when there were "Robbers of the Rhine," and 
"Forty thousand virgins," in company with Saint Ursula, canonising the 
sainted and scented city of Cologne. Ah, those days of long ago! 
"Here we are at last, mother," said Eric, slinging the bag containing his 
sea kit    
    
		
	
	
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