"Oh, Hans, how I wish I had not wasted my life; I am so ignorant, compared with you."
"There is time for you to learn, and to repent; thank God for life and health, and come to Him at once. Cry to Him for the guidance of the Holy Spirit before you lie down to rest."
"When you pray, what do you say, Hans? I don't believe I ever said a prayer in all these years!"
"Did you ever ask your father for anything that you wanted very much?"
"Yes, very often."
"Then just ask God in the same way to forgive your sins for Christ's sake. Don't pray with your lips only, for that is no prayer, but let your words come straight from your heart. Now, Robert, I must not stay here any longer, for it is just the time the master and I go to read with Frau Schmidt."
"Do you think I might come too?"
"I don't know, but I will ask." And Hans ran upstairs to prefer his request.
"By all means let Robert join us," answered the frau.
Accordingly Hans went to fetch his companion.
"I like to have you here," said the invalid to Robert, when he entered her room; "and I rejoice to know that you come here of your own free will; and I rejoice still more in learning from Hans that you mean, God helping you, to become a respectable member of society. I always felt, my dear boy, that Paul Ebhardt was a very unfortunate friend for you to have chosen. Poor Paul! I only wish we could lead him to pause in his unhappy course, and come to Christ."
"I am afraid, mother, he has nothing in his home surroundings to influence him for good," said Karl.
"Perhaps not, but I always hope on, for with God nothing is impossible. I never forget that that mighty Spirit which comes like the wind can soften the heart of stone and turn it into a heart of flesh. And now let us proceed with our evening reading. We are going through St. John's Gospel, Robert, and our subject to-night is the healing of the infirm man at the Pool of Bethesda. Give Robert a Bible, Hans, that he may follow my son."
Karl Schmidt read the first twenty verses of the fifth chapter of St. John's Gospel in a clear voice. When he closed his Bible, his mother, as was her wont, made her comments on the passage he had just finished.
"It is evident," she said, "that this Pool of Bethesda was endowed with a miraculous virtue; and what a boon it must have been to the sick ones! I can picture those five porches filled with the lame, the halt, and the maimed; and I know better than any of you here how eagerly they would wait for the troubling of the water. Health was within their reach again, and we only understand what a precious gift it is when we lose it. Thirty-eight years is a long time to be crippled. It may be the poor man had come to the pool time after time, hoping he would be fortunate enough to move the hearts of some strong ones to help him into the water—for evidently he had no power of his own to crawl there. How many times he had come to this pool and gone away disappointed we are not told. No one was found to take pity on his infirmities, until the Saviour passed by. The Man of Sorrows marked that wan, careworn face, which He had seen lit up with anxious hope when the angel troubled the pool, and then the hope was darkened with despair, for again another had stepped in before him.
"'Wilt thou be made whole?' asked the Master.
"Would he be made whole? Ay, that he would; but how was this to be?
"'Sir, I have no man, when the water is troubled, to put me into the pool: but while I am coming, another steppeth down before me.'
"Jesus said unto him, 'Rise, take up thy bed, and walk.'
"There was no questioning, no doubting, no waiting. The infirm man believed that this God-Physician had almighty power to grant what He offered; so he forgot his infirmity of thirty-eight years' standing, and arose, rolled up the mat on which he had been lying, and walked. He had faith in the Lord's healing power, else he never had obeyed. Would he have tried to do what he did if one of us had said, 'Rise up'? No; he would have replied, 'You mock me, friend. I am helpless; I have been diseased for more than half my life.'
"Now tell me, Robert, what was the first thing this poor man did after he was healed. Read the fourteenth verse of the chapter."
Robert read: "'Afterward Jesus findeth him in the temple, and said unto him, Behold, thou art made whole: sin no more, lest a worse thing come unto thee.'"
"Yes; his first step seems to have been to go to the temple. Jesus found him there; perhaps in the fulness of his heart he longed to thank God for His great mercy to him, in His own house. Ah, Robert, the day may come when you, too, will be stricken down with disease, as this poor man was, and then you may long in vain to frequent God's temple, and sigh that you neglected His service while your limbs were lissom, and you could move about at will. I used to pine to hear the Gospel preached once more, and the sound of the church bells made me sad because I knew they did not ring to summon me to the house of prayer and praise. But now I thank my God through Christ that the longing to do aught but what He wills has passed away. I realise increasingly that my disease brings my Saviour very near; and the nearer He is to me, the more I am sustained by His almighty power.
"'Lord Jesus, as Thou wilt!
Oh, may Thy will be mine.
Into Thy hand of love
I would my all resign.
Through sorrow, or through joy,
Conduct me as Thine own,
And help me still to say,
"My Lord, Thy will be done."
"'Lord Jesus, as Thou wilt
All shall be well for me
Each changing future scene
I gladly trust with Thee.
Straight to my home above
I travel calmly on,
And sing in life or death,
"My Lord, Thy will be done."'
"Now, Karl, will you offer up prayer?"
Robert took leave of the little party as soon as the evening prayer was ended. He returned to the mill deeply touched with the simple, earnest words he had listened to. Religion felt very real to him when he thought over Frau Schmidt's remarks, and the account of the sick man being healed by the Master. He felt very sick, sin-sick, weary, and troubled. Oh, if he could but hear the Master's voice speaking to him! He would rise up and obey. When he found himself alone in his room, he knelt in prayer; yes, and there were sobs mingling with his words. It was the cry of a broken spirit going up to heaven and pleading for mercy at the throne of grace.
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CHAPTER XII.
SAVED BY THE RAFT.
HERR EBHARDT'S relations towards his son did not improve after the scene which took place in his shop with Hans. He grew increasingly stern and angry with Paul—found fault with his work, and constantly watched him. Thus the boy's heart hardened towards his father, and towards Robert too, for he looked upon him as the author of all his misery.
What provoked the master tailor still more was that the affair oozed out in Kösen, and became the common talk of the townspeople for some days. Hans was exalted up to the skies—and it was well that he knew his own shortcomings, else he might have been spoilt by the flattery—while Paul came in for his full share of disgrace. In the meantime Robert had his part of the odium to endure. Some said he was as much to blame in the business as Paul, and that he ought to have confessed to the Burgomaster and refused his prize. Robert was better able to bear these remarks because he had Hans for his friend, and this fact disarmed the outside chatterers, who argued that if Richter associated with Robert Klein, he must be satisfied with the part the latter had played.
Robert offered his prize many, many times to Hans, without being able to persuade him to accept it, and at last Frau Schmidt settled the question by saying, "Do not ask Hans again to take your prize, Robert; he will never consent to what you wish, and it is foolish to waste more words over it. Keep it where you can see it constantly, for it may prevent you from indulging in boastful feelings, and help you to walk softly by recalling the events connected with an important period in your life."
Paul was very angry that Hans and Robert were friends, and he would have liked to quarrel with his former companion, but he dare not, for even he was cowed by his father's violent temper. A crisis came at last, which made him take a desperate step. Herr Ebhardt returned home earlier than he was expected one afternoon, and found Paul idling instead of completing some work which had to be done at a given time. A stormy scene ensued, and the next morning the lad was missing, and no one knew in which direction he had gone. His mother wept for him, his father cursed him, but neither of them made any effort to reclaim the wanderer.
"God grant that he may be spared long enough to see the error of his ways!" said Hans, when Robert told him of Paul's flight. "Oh, Robert, I wish I'd tried more earnestly to win him to Christ."
Many days sped along, and Hans became quite well and strong again. These were happy days for Robert, who kept steadily to his business, and tried hard to undo the bad habits of the past. It must not be supposed that he became suddenly changed from a godless, careless boy to an earnest, God-fearing boy; no, it was the work of days, weeks, and months of struggle with himself against old inclinations and lazy feelings. But he struggled in no strength of his own, but found help for daily needs by seeking aid from heaven. Pastor Hahn became one of his best friends; whereas, he formerly tried to run away, he now sought to profit by what the good man said, and delighted in attending his Sunday class and hearing him preach in the old church of Kösen.
Robert's influence told on his sisters by degrees, and at last on the miller and his wife, who in the end became too much interested in the truths of the Gospel to think of how their movements would be canvassed by their neighbours, for they were more anxious to find peace with God through Christ than to stand well with man.
The summer was ended, and autumn set in. It was a very rainy season, and the Saale became so full that the rafts had not to wait before shooting the weir, for the water fell over in a body and turned the old mill wheel merrily. At one time the current ran so swiftly that some of the foresters were afraid to bring their wood down, and Hans required all his strength to keep those who ventured over the weir in the right current, lest they should be swept across too rapidly.
He found himself repeatedly crying, "Stick well to the raft; stick on; the current runs faster than usual."
At length the rain ceased, and the last day of October was ushered in with brilliant sunshine. The river presented a busy scene. Karl Schmidt and Hans had more business to do than they could well manage, and were glad when the shades of evening fell, and thus prevented the raftsmen from going on their way, and obliged them to rest at Kösen until the following morning. So it came to pass that many rafts were moored above and below the old bridge.
Schmidt had gone into the town on business, and Hans was sitting in the toll-house parlour, feeling very weary and sleepy, when Robert entered.
"I didn't mean to call in this evening," he said, "because I knew you would be tired, but I was obliged to come and tell you the good news. See what I've got!" And he pointed to a long narrow parcel.
"What is it?" asked Hans.
"Something for you."
"For me?"
"Yes, for you, and it's from father. But before you take off the paper, you must let me tell you all about it. You know, Hans, I've never been quite happy about the Burgomaster's prize, and though I've said nothing about it for a long time, I always wanted to make up for it. The other day father offered me money as a reward for being so steady at business, and then I told him what I would rather have than all the money he could give me; and here is what I wanted. Undo it."
Hans unfastened the long unwieldy parcel, wondering what it contained. But when it was free from its covering, and he lifted up the lid of the narrow box, his eyes sparkled with pleasure, for there was such a bow and such arrows as he had never seen the like of before.
"They are for you," exclaimed Robert. "Your hand is quite well now, and next year we'll shoot as friends for the prize; or I will shoot, and you shall win as easily as I did last time."
"This for me, Robert? How kind of you! It must have cost a lot of money; why, it's much better than my master's."
"Never mind what it cost, Hans; that's father's business. He ordered it from Halle, for we have an uncle there who understands what's what. Then you really like it?"
"Like it, Robert! Why how can I help liking such a splendid present? But I don't think I ought to take it, for you've denied yourself a good deal to give it me."
"And I wish you would tell me who in the world I should deny myself for like you? I owe you almost everything, Hans, for you taught me to love and serve God, and made me first think. You saved me."
"Not I, Robert, but Christ in me," answered Hans, reverently. "If I had not found the treasure first, I should not have known its worth."
"You're right, as you always are. Oh, I'm so happy! But I mustn't stay too late, for I promised father to cast up some bills we've been too busy to look after during the day. I shall go home as I came, over the bridge. It was too dark and foggy and the current too strong to bring out the boat."
"Is it foggy?" exclaimed Hans, moving towards the door. "I'd no idea of it. How suddenly it must have come on; and after such a glorious day too. The fact is, I'm so tired that unless you'd come in, I should have fallen asleep. Why, the mist is so thick you cannot see a few yards before you," he added, looking out. "You'd better not venture into it; you'll be walking into the river."
"Don't be afraid," laughed Robert. "I know every inch of the road."
"So you may, but in a fog like this it's very easy to make a mistake; I only wish my master was safe at home," said Hans, anxiously.
Robert walked away from the toll-house, but he soon had to slacken his pace. He managed to reach the weir, and now he had a little distance to traverse by the river-side before he came to a narrow pathway which led him to the foot of the bridge. He had to grope his way carefully along, for at every step he took the fog grew denser. At last, he stood still and wished he had a torch; he would gladly have returned to the toll-house, but it was as difficult to make his way back as to go forward.
"Courage, courage," he said to himself. "I won't be a coward, after boasting to Hans that I was not afraid."
But with all his care and knowledge of "every inch of the road," he crept so close to the river's bank, which is steep at this point, that he lost his footing, and though he made a tremendous effort to save himself from falling, he could not regain his balance.
Robert could swim. He was paralysed for a few moments by feeling the waters close round him, then he knew that he was being hurried along by the stream. He tried to struggle into smoother water, but failed. So all he could do was to cry, "Help, help!" and keep away from the bridge. This he just managed to accomplish, but he grew weaker every minute. When he was past the bridge, he made a last effort to get clear of the current, and this time he succeeded, for as he struck out, he clasped something with his hands.
It was a raft, which had swung round at its moorings. He had only strength enough left to crawl on to it; but he was saved from a watery grave.
Hans longed for his master to return; he looked out of the door again and again, but he heard no sound of approaching footsteps. He felt very uneasy, too, on Robert's account, and debated whether it would be well to take a light with him and go out, but then he could not leave Frau Schmidt alone in the house. At last, he carried a wooden table outside the door and set a lamp upon it, then he went up to the frau's room and chatted with her, she meanwhile wondering why her son was so late.
Hans did not tell her that he was uneasy at his master's absence because there was a thick mist over the river; though while he tried to amuse her, he was straining every nerve to discover if Herr Schmidt were coming.
At last they heard his well-known step, and a few moments afterwards, he entered the room.
"I'm sorry to have kept you awake so much over your usual hour, mother," he said. "But when you know why I have been detained, you will not be surprised. It was clever of you, Hans, to put the lamp outside to guide me home. Did you suggest it, mother?"
"The frau doesn't know about the fog," interrupted Hans.
"Well done, my boy; it was thoughtful of you to save her the anxiety. Now, mother, let me explain everything: you may well look as if we were speaking in an unknown tongue. The heavy rains and the hot sun have brought about such a dense mist as I have only seen twice before in my life; it is so dense that if I had not borrowed a torch, I could not have found my way. That good lad kept his anxiety to himself, but set up a beacon outside the house for me; he lighted the great lamp and put it on a table, or I might have groped about for some time longer, or perhaps have done as Robert did, walked into the river. But he's quite safe, now," added Karl, "though he has had a great shock."
"What has happened?" asked Hans, eagerly. "He was here this evening, and I wanted him so much not to go out in the fog."
"On his way from here, then, it must have been, that he fell in the river. As I was nearing the bridge I heard cries for help, so I made my way to the spot from whence they came as well as I could, and two or three others with torches joined me; we had a hard matter to find the lad, and but for the mist lifting just at the right moment, Robert might have laid on the raft until morning. I carried him home and waited until he became conscious."
"Poor fellow!" said Frau Schmidt. "He must have missed his way. I thank God he is saved."
"I do thank God," added Hans. "And was he really saved by a raft?"
"Yes, saved by a raft," reiterated Karl. "Now, mother, let us have our evening reading."
Robert was so much shaken by his accident, that two days passed before he was permitted to see Hans.
The friends were delighted to meet again, and had a long and serious conversation together, for Robert's heart was full of gratitude to God for his deliverance from death.
"We have been talking so hard," said Hans, just before he left, "that I have not yet asked you how you managed to hold on to the raft as you did, until help came."
"I don't think I held on; I had just enough strength to crawl on to the top, and then I suppose I became unconscious."
"Still you were saved by a raft!"
"Yes," answered Robert; "the raft in its double meaning has been my best friend. There is the raft of wood which saved me when strength was fast failing; there is that almighty Raft which upholds me day by day, and which I can cling to at all times—even the Lord Jesus Christ."
"Old fellow, my mother's words will have a deeper meaning than ever to us both after this," said Hans, earnestly. "You and I will indeed feel the truth of what we say when we cry on behalf of ourselves and all men, 'STICK TO THE RAFT.'"
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LONDON: B. K. BURT AND CO., PRINTERS.