Fascinating history of Fredericksburg and of a very special pioneer bakery.

From Hunter's Frontier Times Magazine, March, 1934

By Esther Mueller, Fredericksburg, Texas

THE BROAD MAIN street of Fredericksburg, which extends for three straight miles and merges at either extremity into a paved State highway, has seen many changes come and go in the 86 years since it was cleared out of post oak wilderness. Long ago oxen-wagons with clanking chains stirred the dust of the street leisurely. They were followed years later by. maroon colored stage coaches that swung past in clouds of dust. After their day came innumerable buggies and hacks and surreys, for which the street sprinkler endeavored to alleviate the dust. Now a steady stream of cars pass up and down the paved street and on to the highway all day long and far into the night.

Long ago Comanches galloped down a street, which at night was lighted only by the dim glow of windows behind which burned tallow candles or little pewter lamps, burning bear fat. Now service stations keep their electric signs bright for the busses and trucks, whose heavy tires hum up the tarviated street. To the same corners and trade centers of main street to which the Indians came bringing deer skins filled with bear fat and wild honey, people still come to park their cars. But now they shop at colorful, glass-fronted stores.

On one of the busiest of these long blocks, Conrad Wehmeyer for over thirty years, from the early fifties to 1886, conducted what was the first, and for years the only bakery in Gillespie county. The bakery stood on the one-half acre of land which was allotted him when the first division of lots for the townsite of Fredericksburg was made in 1846. Now various business houses, extending from Stehling Brothers' store to Saenger & Ochs, have obliterated the traces of house and yard ; and' a picture of the bakery he operated during pioneer days is retained only in the memories of older townspeople, and in the reminiscences of his children.

Conrad Wehmeyer was born in Huttenhausen, Westphalia, Prussia, February 16, 1816. In Berlin, where he was a soldier in the regiment of the Crown Prince Frederick, who later became Frederick III of Prussia, he had undergone training which was to harden him to the life of a soldier, sleeping at night on hard wooden benches, without even a blanket, living on rations of dried peas and bacon. So the hardships of pioneer life did not deter him from heeding the call of adventure, which lured many Germans to Texas. Although he became an American citizen within a few years after his arrival in Texas, his love and admiration for the Crown Prince did not languish. On the wall of his new home he gave a copy of the portrait of the Crown Prince Frederick a place of honor.

Conrad Wehmeyer was almost thirty thirty years old when, in 1846, he arrived with the first colonists at the densely wooded tract of land that is now Fredericksburg. It was on the evening of May 8th, when the colonists reached this spot. They were tired by the long journey and camp was made on the other side of "Stadt Creek." But Conrad Wehmeyer, Sussmann, and another comrade, three young men, unencumbered by families, were eager to explore further. Leaving the remainder of the colonists at work making camp, the three young men, in the gathering dusk, crossed "Stadt Creek," and scouted about over the ground on which the town site was to be laid out.

At first the colonists shared a community existence, living in tents and hastily erected brush thatched shelters, while they worked at the erection of a verein's house, in which were stored the provisions that were apportioned scantily among the colonists every few days. A few months after their arrival each colonist was given a permanent lot in the townsite of Fredericksburg, and a ten-acre tract of land near town.

In December, 1847, Conrad Wehmeyer and Herman Hitzfeld opened a saloon or "trink store" in a crude log and adobe building located at the spot where Blanchard's store now stands. The business, which was the first of its kind in Fredericksburg, was under the auspices of the Adelsverein. The whiskey, wine and tobacco that they sold were furnished by the Verein. Of this business venture Conrad Wehmeyer wrote in a letter to Germany:

"Everything was sold under order of the Verein, where no new supplies could be obtained. We were cheated out of part of our gains. After we had paid for the things we bought, no gain was left us. So is was decided that Hitzfeld, who was a "tischler", (cabinet-maker,) should go to Austin, a city 70 miles from Fredericksburg, there to earn money enough to begin the business anew under our own management. I was to remain at home to look after the household, and the few things left in the store."

After two months Hitzfeld returned, bringing two cows and $15.00 in cash. With this $15.00 they in the year of 1850 began a new business on a small scale. At first they ordered their supplies only in small amounts, having them brought by freighters, who were bringing a load of merchandise to Fredericksburg, but after a year, they had prospered so that they were able to send their own freight wagon to San Antonio. Since their finances warranted it, they agreed to dissolve partnership, Hitzfeld to continue with the saloon, while Wehmeyer was to open a grocery and merchandise store. Their success now permitted each one to build his own house.

Conrad Wehmeyer's lots were the half acre on Main Street, and hereafter the land was cleared of post oaks, he had hi s house built. The two-room house of adobe, logs and limestone, was 36x18 feet. He describes it as built "nach Deutcher art." By October, 1850, he had opened his store here, selling "vitualiean and ellenwaren" (foods and yard goods.) The house was completed in March, 1851.

In December of 1851 he married Louise Klingelhoefer in this house, the ceremony being performed by Pastor Dangers. It was a double wedding, for Herman Hitzfeld married Elizabeth Klingelhoefer, her sister, on the same day. Louise Klingelhoefer, who was the oldest daughter of Johann Jost Klingelhoefer, was born in Eibelshausen, Amt. Dillenburg, Herzogtum Nassau, January 9, 1834. She came to Fredericksburg with her parents in 1847. The report card which she was presented at the school in Dillenburg, shortly before her family's departure to America, is signed September 8, 1845.

The furniture of the house was made by turners and cabinet makers of Fredericksburg. The wedding ring was hammered out of a gold piece by Lungkwitz, who was not only tinner, but coppersmith and goldsmith upon occasion. To get the dishes they needed to begin housekeeping, Conrad Wehmeyer made a trip to San Antonio with oxen wagon, bringing back among other things a set of blue glazed china, composed of tea pitcher, creamer, sugar bowl, two plates and two cups and saucers, that cost $25.

On one of these trips with freight, he found a lost child, for whom everyone was searching. An orphan, placed with the family of Apoteke Muller in Fredericksburg ran away and was lost. People feared that in the wilderness he might be taken by Indians. Wehmeyer, hearing the cry of a child, as he drove home from San Antonio, investigated, and found the lost boy, wandering near the road. Wild pigs had attacked the child and chewed up one of his hands. So long as he lived, the boy's hand was crippled.

In January, 1852, Conrad Wehmeyer wrote to his half brother, Heinrich Kespohl, in Huttenhausen, Westphalia: "You ask whether I can advise people to come here. That I cannot do. Although anyone who wants to farm here row sanded rectangle before the house on and cares to work, will do as well here as which rested a broad white stone, that anywhere. The land is still cheap—good land with wood, which is a necessity here, where the land on which one raises corn must all be fenced. There are no herders here as in Germany. Here cattle graze where they will. There are now from 1,000 to 1,200 people here. Only 10 or 12 died last year. This shows that the climate is healthy. I write no lie. Whoever does not want to come may stay at home. I advise no one to come, but I write the truth. I shall never leave here. I do not care to have things better than they are here. One lives in peace. When taxes are due, one can always pay them. The taxes are the least of one's cares. As for my health, I am healthier here than I ever was in Germany.

As far as concerns the town and community, everything is in good condition. In town are a number of pretty homes, good when one considers the age of the community. There are already farmers here who in one year sell from 600 to 800 bushels of corn and keep enough for their own use. The soldiers' fort— Fort Martin Scott—2 miles from town (eine halbe Deutsche Meile) brings the town much trade. And now more and more soldiers are being sent to the grant for the safety of the German settlers. In the grant there are at present two companies of cavalry and four companies of infantry. At Fredericksburg there are now two companies with a good fort. I believe that Fredericksburg will grow to be a prosperous city. The evidence lies before one's eyes. Immigrants are still arriving, and all are well pleased. Anyone with money can buy cultivated farms with houses as good as anywhere, and as cheap. * * * * Please send me several dozen long and short pipes, which I can easily sell here, also a "spiel doose" (music box.) When you send these things, please include something for my wife. You will know what will please her."

For the next half century the Wehmeyer family lived in this house. Here seven of their nine children grew to maturity, and spattered from home. Pauline and Robert died in infancy. The other children, in order of age, are: August Wehmeyer, who died at Quincy, Ill., in 1929: Sidonie, (Mrs. August Sembritzsky) of Fredericksburg: Alwine. (Mrs. August Weber,) who died in 1929. Elise, (Mrs. Richard Tatseb) of San Antonio. Adolph Wehmeyer of Fredericksburg: Bertha. (Mrs. W. C. Kiehne ) of Menard: and Emma, (Mrs. William Mueller) of Fredericksburg.

Little changes were made in the house from time to time. Rooms were added to the house as the family grew, and gradually, a wall at a time, the adobe log walls were removed and replaced with limestone walls. An outside stairway was built to the east of the house. This served as doorsteps for the wide, double cypress door, was changed into a stone plastered porch, with rail that joined the picket yard fence, in shutting out the sandy sidewalk and street. Like most pioneer homes of Fredericksburg, the house had a low, sloping roof, and thick walls, that were whitewashed inside and out. The windows had sills as deep as the thickness of the walls, and the floors were laid with broad oak boards. In the backyard where stone-flagged walks led to the well and smoke house, were the flower beds, a vegetable garden, and a long grape arbor.

Although the house was in the busiest section of town, the family was not spared the fear of an Indian attack. Indians, in their raids had come so close a number of times, during the days of the Civil War, that the people in town were always apprehensive. August, the oldest boy, recalled that when he was a small boy, th e town was once aroused, expecting an Indian attack. He was playing in the backyard one evening at dusk, when from across Baron's Creek, or Stadt Creek as it is known in "Fredericksburg Deutsch, " came the strident alarm of "Indianer! Indianer!" The cry was taken up by the people in town, until in a few minutes everyone was scurrying to shelter. August Wehmeyer remembered how his mother held the back door open until the children were all inside, when she quickly bolted the heavy door. The street was soon deserted; there was no movement on it save that caused by an oxen-team, drawing a load of wood, which, deserted by its driver, plodded along without him, the clanking chains the only sound to disturb the sudden stillness.

The men armed themselves and gathered at the courthouse to offer united resistance. Someone was sent to investigate the alarm. Then it was discovered that two girls across the creek, who had bee n sent into the pasture after the cows, had seen something red moving behind the bushes. With their imaginations excited by Indian attacks which had recently occurred near town, they had become frantic, and given the alarm over what may have been only a calf.

In the earlier days before the Indians became unfriendly, they were often i n town, Comanches, Lipans and Delawares, who came to beg or to trade, never to buy. They liked to stop at the bakery, because like children, they were fond of the sweets they found there. One of the children of Conrad Wehmeyer still treasures a hammered silver disk, an Indian hair ornament, which an Indian gave Wehmeyer in return for cake and bread.

During the days of the Civil War, Conrad Wehmeyer was county treasurer, serving in that office from 1868 until 1869. The cotton bats, which the Confederate government sent out for distribution among the people, so that the people at home might card their own cotton, were sent to him to be distributed. The courthouse in those days was not a safe place for keeping things, so he kept them in the attic of his bakery, giving them to people as they were requested.

A rumor sprang up that he had also the county money at his home for safe keeping, and that in the barrels containing the cotton bats, which were stored in the attic, were also secreted the county funds. Whether because of this rumor, or because of the fact that he was against secession and slavery, and in sympathy with the union, he was marked as an intended victim of the "hanger bande."

During those troublous days of war and reconstruction, when brother fought against brother, the citizens of Fredericksburg were never quite certain of the identity of the masked men, who posing as patriots of the South, hanged many law abiding citizens of the community.

A friend of Conrad Wehmeyer's found a paper on which were listed the names of the men who are to become the next victims of the "hanger bande," together with the dates on which they were to be taken captive. He discovered there the name of Conrad Wehmeyer and warned him.

For anxious weeks he was hidden in the little attic above the baker shop, and his food was sent him through a trap door, that opened into the room below. Meanwhile his wife carried on the work of the bakery, evading the questions of the men who came to make suspiciously prying inquiries about her husband. Even though she quivered with trepidation, she pretended that it would not trouble her if they would search the house. At night two other men, Saenger and Schaper, whose names were on the list, came to watch with him, for the "hanger bande" moved usually at night. Fully armed, they waited night after night until they were certain that the plans of the outlaws had been diverted.

Soldiers of the frontier added color to the streets of Fredericksburg. From 1849 until the outbreak of the Civil War companies of soldiers were stationed intermittently at Fort Martin Scott, and after that fort was vacated, soldiers continued to pass through Fredericksburg on their way to the forts further west. These companies of soldiers usually camped near town, and while they were in Fredericksburg, always stocked up with large amounts of bread. Not only did they order all the bread that Wehmeyer had on hand, but so much that it was necessary to bake several bakings in one day. When he had finished baking for the soldiers all the shelves and counters of the store were filled with fresh bread.

One of the army cooks brought Wehmeyer his first yeast cakes, made of cornmeal and potatoes. Until that time, Wehmeyer used only fresh yeast that he made from hops procured at Probst's brewery.

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The bakery, the only place where confections of that day were sold, was a favorite shopping place with the soldiers. They considered themselves privileged persons, sometimes helping themselves to what they saw without the formality of paying for.

One time when an impudent private was eating cookies for which he refused to pay, Conrad Wehmeyer seized him, and started to push him outside. Mrs. Wehmeyer, hearing the commotion, !hurried into the store. She was just in time to see the soldier grasp the ax, which stood behind the double front door. The soldier took a step backward, so as to be outside, then raised the ax to strike. She quickly closed one side of the door. The ax struck the door, splintering it. Later in the day, an officer, who had heard of the incident, came to pay for the door. He assured Wehmeyer that the man would never splinter another door as a soldier.

It was directly after the Civil War that the Union soldiers were especially bold and annoying. Mrs. Sidonie Sembritzky, the oldest daughter, remembers that she came home from school one day to find three soldiers sitting about the table eating the meal mother had prepared for the family. They had stepped into the storeroom of the bakery, and seeing no one there, had gone on into the kitchen. When they saw the table set with food, they in spite of the protests of Mrs. Wehmeyer, sat down and helped themselves. Mrs. Sembritzky remembers that one of the men, Rodgeford, bowed his head to say grace, but that the other dispensed with this. One of them, to the horror of the children, scooped notate salad out of the bowl with his hands. One of the children ran to summon their father. When he came, Conrad Wehmeyer, who was usually of a mild temperament, was so thoroughly aroused that the soldiers left hurriedly.

Soldiers came to the bakery at all hours. Elsie, (Mrs. Tatsch,) remembers that once late at night, a drunken soldier, accompanied by several others, knocked at the door, saying that he wanted to buy ginger cakes. When Wehmeyer did not open the door, he came to the window, insisting. The squares were sold for five cents each, six for a, quarter. Wehmeyer handed six of the cakes out of the window. The soldier dropped one, and said that he had received only five. Conrad Wehmeyer was certain that he had made no mistake, but to bs rid of the soldier, he brought another cake. A gain the soldier dropped a cake, and insisted that he had not received six. The soldiers did not leave until Wehmeyer brought out his gun and told them to go.

Living on Main Street, the Wehmeyer children shared in all of the exciting experiences of the town The children of Conrad Wehmeyer still recall the torchlight parade, with which the people of Fredericksburg in 1871 celebrated, when news reached them that the war between Germany and France was over, and Germany had been ceded Alsace Lorraine. All the town was lighted up to celebrate. Singing, shouting, and firing their guns, the people went up and down the street carrying lighted torches, sticks, the ends of which were wrapped in cloth and dipped in tar before they were lighted. But the celebration came to an abrupt end. In the yard of the house across the street, Louis Kordzik, the brother of Mrs. Emil Vander Stucken, was preparing to join in the celebrating. He was ready to fire his gun, when what was believed to be a stray bullet struck him, and he died before he could explain anything.

The evenings that the family spent about the table lighted with tallow candles were busy and happy. While the children prepared lessons, or played with their little rag dolls, the mother was accompanied with knitting or mending, and their father was not idle. He liked to spin, and he could spin more deftly and rapidly than his wife could on. the huge, cotton spinning wheel. Standing beside the wheel, one foot pedaling the treadle, he set the. wheel to whirring busily, spinning much of the yarn that his wife needed to knit socks and stockings for the children.

More of his evenings, however, were spent in reading aloud to the family as they clustered interestedly about the table. He read from German periodicals and from books of travel and adventure. For a time, he read each night from "Die Spinn Stube," a ten volume set of books, containing stories that some of his children to this day recall with delight.

While he was reading 'rem "Die Spinn Stube," old Mr. Schmidt, a neighbor, whose yard joined Wehmeyer's back yard, came over every evening to listen to the reading. Mr. Schmidt always came through the long grape arbor at the rear of the house, and on to the well, where he filled his jug, or the buckets that hung from a wooden yoke he wore over his shoulders. Then putting the water aside, he sat down to stay unti l the reading hour was over. The children were fond of the old man, and if for some reason, he was absent for several days, they went to inquire the cause.

Old Mr. Schmidt had a horse and wagon which he for one day of the year at least, placed at the disposal of the Wehmeyer family. That was on July 11, when they celebrated their grandfather Klingelhoefer's birthday. It was a double celebration. for their grandmother Klingelhoefer had her birthday on July 3. July 11 was one of the most joyful days of their year. On that day Conrad Wehmeyer closed his shop, if not for a whole day, for at least a half day, and the entire family went up the street to their grandfather's home. While old Mr. Schmidt was their neighbor, he drove the children up the street in his wagon early in the morning. When he was not there, the children in a group with their cousins, the Saenger children, trooped up the sand street, pushing and pulling by turns a little two-wheeled cart filled with cakes and cookies from the baker shop. Their grandfather, in anticipation of their coming, had taken his gun the day before, and had shot a number of rabbits, which their grandmother prepared for the table. To the children the dinner was always a feast.

The bakery was a happy place for children. Among other attractions there was a little rolling pin, with which the children might, whenever they wished, roll out the scraps of dough that their father did not use. He willingly placed their little cake s into the oven along with his.

The foundation of this oven, built against the rear of the bakery was of limestone, a rectangle, 8x6 feet, and over three feet from the ground. On top of this foundation, and opening into the bakery was a dome shaped oven, which unlike the foundation, was of adobe bricks. Wehmeyer made these bricks himself of adobe from the creek, shaping them in a form that he had made. The front of the oven rose into a wide chimney, the dome opening into the chimney through two drift holes at the top, so placed that they drew the smoke into the chimney without blackening the oven. The inside walls of the oven were always clean.

The oven itself extended outside of the room, and the dome was sheltered by a shingled roof, supported by four posts. Outside the oven was the scone ledge of the foundation, just high enough to be within the reach of short arms. Here the clay toys that the children moulded from the red clay of Stadt Creek, were baked by the combined heat of the sun and the rocks. Inside of the oven was so much space that a man could comfortably sit or kneel there, as it was necessary to do whenever the oven was repaired.

Entering the house through the double front door, one stepped immediately into the store room, lined with counters. Here in a large glass cupboard were kept on display loaves of bread, coffee cake, cinnamon rolls and cookies, always kept on hand. From the rear of the store one entered the bakery, through a short, roofed, stone_plastered walk.

The bakery was to the children the most interesting room of the house. From here came inviting odors of freshly baked bread. and the enticing spicy scent of warm coffee cake. It was from this room that the pound cakes and cookies issued that helped in the festivities of Gillespie county. In the right hand corner. as one entered, stood the flour barrels. Conrad Wehmeyer was particular of the quality of his flour, which he tested by rubbing between his fingers. Although the muscles of his hands and arms were unusually well developed from working and pounding dough by hand, his fingers never lost their sensitiveness of touch. He could tell in a moment whether the flour that was being offered him would do for cake or cookies. Usually he used flour from the Guenther Mills at San Antonio. Mr. Guenther, who came often from San Antonio, invariably took back with him a supply of ginger cakes, and zwieback, for he said that none he could buy at San Antonio were so delicious as those that Wehmeyer baked.

In the corner opposite the flour barrels stood the warming closet, in which was kept the yeast and the bread and cakes a s they were rising. In cold weather an iron pot of coals stood at the bottom of the closet. Near the closet stood the spice cupboard, from which was wafted into the room a delicious spicy odor. Next to the spice cupboard stood the wooden bread trough, about six feet long, and deep and wide enough to accommodate a large quantity of dough as it was being mixed. The baking oven, which took up the entire space at the rear of the room was quite dark inside. Whenever it was necessary to turn or move pans in the oven, a lighted candle must be set down inside. To heat the oven, split logs were laid in the oven in the same manner in which a log cabin was built up. Fine shavings of wood or corn husks were placed inside the rectangle, and the fire lighted from the center. Within an hour the wood was burned to coals. Then to heat the rocks evenly, the coals were scattered evenly over the oven floor, and left until they had turned to ashes. With an iron scraper and shovel they were quickly swept out of the oven, down into the ash pit, built at the side of the oven. Into these hot ashes the children often put potatoes to bake.

When all the ashes had been swept out of the oven, a damp mop cleaned away every trace of them. The rocks of the oven were so hot, that drops of moisture touching them, sizzled away into steam. Then the pans of bread on long handled wooden shovels were pushed into the hot oven Sometimes bread was baked directly on the hearth, the loaves being placed on a wooden shovel and pushed one at a time into the oven. Heat was regulated by a little opening at the side of the oven door, into which a brick was placed. Conrad Wehmeyer judged the temperature of the oven by thrusting his hand inside. He could tell, easily whether there was enough heat for bread, or whether there was only heat enough to bake cake or cookies. Bread, because it required greater heat, was usually baked first. After the bread was removed, cake was placed into the oven, and after that cookies. And sometimes after that peaches were dried on frames in the oven.

Conrad Wehmeyer had learned the art of baking in Germany. He never used a cook book to supplement his memory of a recipe. Baking powder was unheard of in that day. He used eggs plentifully, sometimes supplementing them with baking soda, cream of tartar and Hirschhorn Salz. The only shortening he ever used was but baking aids, that are now considered necessities, he was able to bake cakes that people of the older generation still recall with pleasure.

In the earlier years people of the county had fireplaces with open hearths, at which they did their cooking. Few fireplaces had dutch ovens, so people were not prepared to bake large amounts of cake. So whenever there was a wedding, a baptism, or a confirmation celebration, cakes and cookies were ordered from Conrad Wehmeyer large boxes full of coffee cake, pound cake and various kinds of cookies. Sometimes the people brought butter, eggs, flour, even wood from home, and so were able to receive their cakes with little additional expense. At Christmas, Easter, and Pentecost there were always the regular customers, who required their cakes and cookies. These orders came not only from Gillespie county, but from Mason, Llano, and other nearby counties.

The cookies were in themselves works of art. The forms, made by Lungkwitz, a local tinner and goldsmith, were of various kinds. There were flowers, stars, Geometric designs, a life-like deer with realistic branching antlers, dogs, cats, lions, and tigers, a soldier, and a rider on a rocking horse, and best of all, boy and girl dolls, both one foot tall. The cookie forms, which are still in use by the children of Conrad Wehmeyer, in time came to be as familiar to the Wehmeyer children as their toys. The dog form, with the face of a Scotch terrier, still reminds the children of "Mingo," a family pet.

Pink and white icing decorated these cookies. The boy doll was arrayed as a soldier, proudly wearing a double row of buttons down his coat. The girl doll, when she was decorated with wavy hair, a pink mouth and a smooth icing dress, could delight the heart of a little girl almost as well as a real doll. But it was not only among children that these boy and girl dolls were popular. An old man, who was a youth during those days, recalls advice given young people of his day, who are unusually particular in their choice of friends:

"Wenn du kein findts der dir gefallt, lass dir den Backer Wehmeyer einen backen. Den kannst du auf essen wenn er dir night gefallt."

To the delight of the children of the family and neighborhood, preparations for Christmas began weeks before Christmas. After the cookies had been baked and stored away in bins and shelves they were ready for the pleasant work of icing.

Sugar, at that time, could not be procured in powder form. It must be converted into powdered sugar at the bakery. The white lump sugar was placed into an iron mortar, or "moerser," and with an iron pestle pounded into powder. Carmine was the only coloring used. The sugar and coloring, after they had been mixed with egg white, were placed into cone shaped cornucopias of parchment paper from Reinbach's apoteke. At the tip of the cone was a small opening through which the icing was forced as the top was folded over. This pencil point of icing formed roses, hearts, scallops and other designs when guided by Wehmeyer's skilled fingers.

The icing of the cookies was always done in the evening about the family dining table, which was completely covered with trays of cookies. Eager children stood by to offer assistance. They carried trays back and forth. Sometimes with breathless interest they guided a cornucopia over cookies—white icing for molasses cookies, pink and white icing for other cookies. Naturally the cookies sometimes suffered casualties—a restless elbow pushed one to the floor, and no one knew who was to blame, but Conrad Wehmeyer did not mind. And when the evening's work was over, and the counters of the store were covered with trays of iced cookies, left there over. night to harden, the children received their reward, stacks of cornucopias, or "zucker tuten," still not entirely empty. These "zucker tuten" were a prized confection in a day, when sweets, because of their scarcity were even more appreciated than now.

Conrad Wehmeyer continued with his baking until after he was seventy years old, using his Dutch oven as long as he baked for other people. During his last years, he baked only at special request— usually at the request of Dr. Albert Keidel, who prescribed Wehmeyer's biscuit and zwieback to his convalescent patients.

As he grew older, his eyesight failed almost entirely, and the pleasure of reading, which through his life had been one of his greatest delights, was denied him. He was a quiet, kindly gentleman, who always took more pleasure in reading of the travels and adventures of other men, than in relating his own. He was eighty-two years old when he died in 1898.

Although all traces of the bakery have vanished, the older citizens of Gillespie county have not forgotten the place whence the confections of their childhood came. And now and then one of them recalls with a wistful pleasure the cakes and cookies that Wehmeyer baked—the like of which they have not eaten since.

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