Without further incidents we arrived at the new home with its good buildings. One hundred and seven acres of land with forty acres of this in pine forest, one old house, half a dozen cows, and one old dog were included in the purchase.

Soon after our arrival in Bavaria I had my first mishap. I was told to drive from the Schweig, where we were staying with Uncle Peter Strohm, to the Eichstock in a small wagon drawn by the old brown horse and a Weierhof horse which was a habitual runaway. Two of Uncle Peter’s small daughters and a nursemaid went along. Suddenly the one horse shied. I was on foot, leading this horse at the bridle because the wagon was so packed. I could not hold the horse, even though I hung on desperately in order to protect my precious cargo from disaster. Fortunately the kingpin broke, tearing the front wheels away from the wagon. But the rear of the wagon settled forward so gently that it merely frightened but did not hurt the passengers. At the Eichstock the horses were caught and returned, and the trip ended happily.

In the new home much was to be learned by the parents as well as by the children. Every region has its own customs. Woe be to him who from another area knows better, or wants to use his old methods! He pays a stiff apprenticeship fee. My father had been one of the best farmers on the Weierhof. Surely he could farm in Bavaria as he had in the Palatinate. He paid dearly for trying that. In the first place he had to learn the Bavarian dialect. I did not find that hard. The Bavarian, too, was different, deceitful, sly, cunning, particularly the laborer. He tolerated no deviation from custom. Nor did he permit any familiarity or friendliness with servants. They should recognize that they had a master, and they were always subject to inspection. It was difficult to adopt this attitude as it was difficult and costly to give up the Palatinate ways of farming. For example, the Bavarian customarily did his threshing before dawn, calling in additional help so that he had at least a group of six. In the Palatinate two men on the threshing floor worked until the shed was empty. My father could not introduce this method in Bavaria.

I now attended a Lutheran school in Lanzenried under a Johann Nestler. He insisted on much memory work, and on this basis he assigned grades as well as lashes. He stressed reading and writing, religious instruction, and Lutheran catechism. But his discipline was poor and his teaching methods mechanical. A retarded child never learned to think for himself. Still I learned much for my own good under this well educated man.

The Mennonites had a church at Eichstock where the elder David Ruth, and his brother Johann, the deacon, lived. This is the church my father joined. At first David Ruth, who was the only minister, preached every Sunday. From him and from my father, later elected deacon, I received my simple but clear and thorough, catechetical instruction. In my fifteenth year I received baptism, admittedly in great weakness; nevertheless, with childlike faith in the Saviour as my redeemer.

During this time I had a conflict Sunday afternoons between the Lutheran Sunday school and my instruction class. Our school teacher insisted that we must attend the Sunday school as well as the weekday school. My father decided otherwise. On Monday morning Nestler asked, “Krehbiel, where were you yesterday?” I answered politely, “Sir, I attended the catechetical instruction.”

“But I told you, you must come to Sunday school.” Firmly I answered, “But my father told me I must go to instruction, and I must obey his orders.” Consumed with anger, the teacher screamed, “I stand here in the name of the king, and not of David (Ruth). You will come to Sunday school next Sunday.” Quietly I affirmed, “Not if my father says I must go to instruction.” With that the die was cast. The guarantee of religious freedom which had been given the Mennonites when they settled in this duchy hung in the balance. The church council petitioned the king who agreed that the Mennonite children need not attend the Lutheran Sunday school if their instruction class interfered, but that they must take the yearly examinations. Nestler must have been reprimanded for his intolerant attitude, for he was thereafter friendly, and no longer scoffed, “I am the teacher; David is only a farmer.”

My schooling now came to an end. For a while I managed the farm, then became a driver and a laborer. In this latter function I traveled about a great deal, seeing Dachau, Munich, Augsburg, Nürnberg, and many market places and cities in the district. One winter I hauled manure through the deep snow on a sled spanned with four horses. Manure and marl were excellent fertilizer for Bavarian clover as well as for grain. Those were good times. The companions did not always have the highest standards: in fact, the social relations were quite different from those in the Palatinate. Still, one’s mental horizons were broadened through these contacts.

Many visitors came to our house. Among them was Uncle Jacob Leisy, who had long lived in America, had visited many of the states and had made two trips across the ocean. The conversations centered in the countries and people he had seen and also on religious questions which were a burning issue in our community. I was often permitted to sit with and listen to the elders, for which I am still most thankful to my father. In this way, seemingly without effort, I gathered much information which broadened my horizon and turned my heart to nobler purposes than those prevalent among my youthful companions. I recommend this as a good pattern to all parents.

At this time I also observed the rudeness of some people in high position. For the malt needed in the distilling of brandy, a tax had to be paid to a tax collector, then a man from the nobility who had become a degraded ruffian. Father sent me on the last tax date to pay the tax. The rascal was not at home, returning at nightfall half drunk. Instead of accepting my payment and giving me a receipt as his office required, he began storming at me, saying, “The scoundrels want to cheat us, but it isn’t me they cheat; it is the king.” I had been there on time, although on the last day. He heaped further insults on my father, saying, “The farmers are always ready for such knavish trickery in their attempt to cheat the king.” Uncle Leisy, the world-traveler, he addressed with disrespectful du and when this one inquired, “Mr. tax collector, am I your du?” He contemptuously replied, “You apparently think that because you have been in America I must say Sie when speaking to you.” After storming around like this for half an hour he finally took the money and gave me a receipt. Such an experience, however, did not incline a self-respecting young man to bow to proud aristocracy. (Du is the familiar form of address in German. Sie is used in polite conversation and among people who do not know each other well.)

From America came letters from Uncle Eymann and others. These and the hours with Uncle Leisy gave us a vision of the opportunities and freedom of the new country. It kindled in us a deep desire for these fleshpots and for this equality in human rights. Soon a circumstance arose which caused us to break with the old order. My oldest brother Jacob was drafted into the army, and there were five more sons, all destined to become soldiers. Bavaria permitted substitution, but my father could not afford that for all of us. Moreover, he did not want his sons to be soldiers because of his convictions on nonresistance. He decided to sell everything and move to America. An opportunity presented itself to sell the farm, even though he had to accept several thousand gulden less than had been paid for it. A substitute for Jacob was found at 1,000 gulden for the six years of service. In the spring of 1851, after seven years in Bavaria, we were again homeless with less capital than we had brought to the new home. Again we were on the move. But this time many of our acquaintances and intimate friends were also considering moving to a new home where they might find freedom of conscience and belief.