The Project Gutenberg eBook of Stick to the raft
Title: Stick to the raft
Author: Mrs. George Gladstone
Release date: October 11, 2025 [eBook #77023]
Language: English
Original publication: London: The Religious Tract Society, 1875
Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
A MEAN ACTION.
STICK TO THE RAFT.
BY
MRS. GEORGE GLADSTONE
Author of
"WAITING FOR SAILING ORDERS," "NORWEGIAN STORIES,"
ETC.
London:
THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY
56, PATERNOSTER ROW; 65, ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD;
AND 164, PICCADILLY.
MANCHESTER: CORPORATION STREET. BRIGHTON: WESTERN ROAD.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER.
STICK TO THE RAFT.
CHAPTER I.
THE RAFT.
THE Fichtel-Gebirge, or Fir Mountains, in Bavaria, have been compared to the garden of Eden, because four rivers rise in their midst, which were once supposed to be rich in gold, and to abound in precious stones. Some of the poor people in this region have been known to search diligently, hoping to find treasures concealed in the beds of the Maine, Eger, Saale, or Naab, which would enrich them, so that they might dispense with hard labour and dwell in luxury for the remainder of their days. But only a few peasants indulged in such dreams. For the most part, the people were, and are, employed in felling the forest trees, laying out new plantations, and burning charcoal.
Hans Richter was a wood-cutter and charcoal-burner; he was but a poor man, as far as this world's goods were concerned, but he was rich towards God, for he had a large store of faith and earnest trust in his Heavenly Father. In fact, in his simple way, he scarcely knew what care meant, just because he realised these words in their full meaning, and not in a halfhearted manner—"Casting all your care upon Him, for He careth for you." He had but little book knowledge, and could with difficulty spell out the words of his Bible, but he could pray: he could talk to his God as he went about his daily work, or as he watched the charcoal smouldering. And he learnt so easily, and had such a good memory that he made many of the rich promises contained in God's Word his own.
Richter was a widower with one son, a lad of fifteen, who was a great solace to him. Young Hans was a tolerable scholar, for during the winter months the forest life was exchanged for a cottage in a little village, and then he went to school, and applied himself to study so eagerly that he acquired more information in the five winter months than his fellow-companions who attended the classes regularly all the year round.
When our story opens, Hans Richter was suffering from a severe cold. The winter had been a trying one, and money so scarce that very often he could not afford to heat his stove. The long illness of his wife, and her subsequent death, exhausted his resources, and incurred some debts which he had only just paid off. In spite of these trials, he did not lose his faith in God, but hoped that the spring and summer work would be plentiful, and that the united efforts of himself and son would enable him once more to accumulate a little hoard for future needs.
The snow had disappeared, and the firs looked green and fresh when Richter and his son gave up their room in the village, removed to the forest, and erected their hut. It did not take them long to build up their summer dwelling-house, it was so simply constructed. The shape of it was conical, and the poles with which it was made were covered with the bark of the fir-tree. This rude hut served to shelter them from storm and wind. It stood about two miles from the village to which they had to go in order to buy bread and other necessaries.
Richter did not remove all his household goods, though they were few enough, to his hut. He left some of his furniture in the care of the poor woman with whom he lodged during the cold weather, and only carried to the forest such articles as were absolutely needed.
"Father," said young Hans, some three weeks after the hut was completed, "you look very tired this afternoon, and seem so weak; lie down and rest, while I go to work. Carl and Wilhelm will come when they have finished their dinners, and we can get along quite well without your help."
"I am very tired, my boy," answered Richter. "I cannot tell you exactly why, but I have never been the same since your mother died, and I think the cold of last winter injured me. Your young bones are not so tender as mine, for you can run about and warm yourself; my cough prevents me from taking sharp exercise, and lately it has hurt my chest. But don't look so sad, Hans; if my Heavenly Father wants me home, I am ready to go. And I am not afraid of leaving you alone, for He will not forsake the orphan, but care for you as He has cared for me. I'll have a sleep while you cut down the branches of your fir; you'll manage to do that easily when Carl and Wilhelm come. But wait for me before you set to work on the trunk."
"Is it to go to Kösen, father?"
"Yes; it is the last one we have to fell to complete the order sent by the Burgomaster. I shall take you with me to Kösen so soon as the raft is ready. When your mother was living, I did not like to leave her alone for so many days, but now I shall be glad of your help. One pair of hands cannot guide a large raft through the twists and turns of the Saale. You've had good practice in your time, my boy, and I think are as clever as your father."
"I want to see Kösen," answered Hans. "I've never been so far; and I've heard it's such a pretty little village."
"It is a town, lad; the people were anxious enough to have it made into one, thinking they would have more privileges, but all they seem to have gained is having to pay heavier taxes and support a Burgomaster, to whom they give a regular annual income."
"There is more to be seen and learnt in a town than in our tiny village, or among these fir-trees," said Hans.
"Perhaps for you, but not for me. I spent some of my early years at Leipzie, yet I was glad when my father accepted the post of head forester, and we came to our quiet little village for the winter, and lived in the forest during the fine weather."
"But then, father, you had good reason to be glad; you have often told me about your early life."
"Yes, lad; I never grow weary of telling you how I learnt to know the Lord. I was a stranger to Him before, and so was your grandfather. Your mother first taught us there was a better world to live for than this. But I needed sorrow to make me think. It was on the day that your darling sister died I prayed my first prayer, and promised to give myself to my Master's service. Ah, lad, such a world of care has been moved off my shoulders since then!
"How well I remember starting on a raft down the Saale some few days after that blessed hour when I cried, 'I am not my own, Lord, for Thou hast redeemed me with Thy precious blood, and I give myself to Thee.'
"Your mother came to see me off, holding you, who were a baby about a year old, in her arms. Before I unchained the raft, I kissed her and said, 'Good-bye! Take care of yourself, and our only little one.'
"'Good-bye, my dear husband,' she replied; 'stick to the raft, and mind how you pass the weir at Kösen. How glad I am to think that there's another Raft you'll stick to besides this one; a Raft which cannot come to any harm, but which will support you in the deepest waters and amid the fiercest storms, when the sun shines, and when the rain falls.'
"I looked at her in astonishment, for I didn't catch her meaning.
"But she soon cleared up the mystery, for she added, 'I mean the Lord Jesus Christ; stick to that Raft, and pray for His Spirit to guide you.'
"It was a good saying of hers, Hans; I've never forgotten it, and I have ever called out to any one who was guiding a raft, 'Stick to it.' And what's more, if I have an opportunity, I tell them there is a heavenly Raft to stick to as well as fir-stems, and I say, 'Hold on to the Saviour, forget self, and cling to God's promises in Christ.'
"Hans, lad, as a sinking man would hug his raft if any accident upset him in the river, so I beseech you cling to Jesus. Don't forget my words. Now go to your work, and I will rest."
Richter closed his eyes wearily when his son left him. "Some day soon I shall fall into the sleep that knows no waking. But when my summons comes, I shall go gladly, and without fear," he murmured. "O Father, for Christ's sake, make my boy true to Thee."
The sun set, and yet the sick man slept heavily, nor did he rouse up to take his supper.
After young Hans had finished his day's work, he watched his father for some time, and then he too fell into a sound slumber. The morning was breaking when the lad was awakened by hearing his name called. He was in time to catch his father's last words.
"I am dying," gasped Richter; "the end has been coming for some time, but I have fast hold of the Raft, Hans; I am not afraid of crossing the river; I hold my Saviour's hand, and He holds mine. I can say truly, 'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.' Stick to the Raft, my boy; stick to the Raft."
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CHAPTER II.
KÖSEN.
KÖSEN is a charming little city on the Saale. It lies in a valley surrounded by hills which are well-cultivated and finely wooded. During the summer, the river is thickly studded with rafts made of the trunks of fir-trees, principally cut from the forests about the Fichtel-Gebirge. These rafts are formed by boring holes at the top and bottom of each stem, and fastening them together with twigs. When completed, they are launched on to the river, and the stream carries them down to their destination.
"So help me God, I will stick to the Raft," said Hans Richter, when he left the village cemetery about a month after his father's funeral. He had been there to plant forest-flowers on his parent's grave, and to pray. And with a firm step he took the road which led to his old landlady's house.
"I have called to bid you good-bye," he said as he entered her cottage and shook her warmly by the hand. "I expect not to return to this part again for at least some years to come."
"So I hear," she replied. "You must take a cup of coffee with me this afternoon, and tell me why you are so anxious to leave your old home. The last time I saw you I thought you were inclined to stay in these parts."
"I am so lonely without my father, and feel I had rather go to some place where I can learn more and see more. I mean to try and get some work to do at Kösen."
"That is a long way off, over seventy miles as the crow flies, and perhaps double the distance by the river. It's my native place; I was born there."
"I know it is a good distance, but I can't help that, for business takes me to Kösen; I am going to help Wilhelm Andrea. He is appointed to take the wood to the Burgomaster, now father's dead. The head forester has written to a friend of his who keeps the toll-house, and asked him to give me some employment. He says lads are often wanted to help the rafts over the weir."
"That's true enough, for the weir is full four feet high. I can tell you it needs a good rush of water to enable them to pass it at all."
"I can't quite understand how they get over," said Hans.
"You know what a weir is, I suppose?"
"Oh yes."
"Explain it to me."
"Wherever there's a great mill to be worked, there's a weir. It's only a dam in the river to collect enough water behind it so as to turn the mill wheel."
"Quite right. You'll soon see the old flour-mill; it is a very large one, and grinds nearly all the wheat needed in Kösen for bread. Now I will tell you how the rafts go over. Every raft, as you know, has a man and a boy on it who steer with a fir pole, to which is attached a boat-hook. So soon as the weir is reached, the master of the toll-house, or his assistant, wades through the water from the shore, and stands on the weir. He also holds a long fir pole in his hands, with which he pushes the raft, so as to prevent it from drifting out of the middle of the stream and missing the best point to shoot the fall. The two on the raft have to stand perfectly still, and balance themselves carefully while they glide down the rapid, and they very often get a good shower-bath. I have watched many hundred rafts over the weir at Kösen, and also under the bridge; for the little town boasts a long and very handsome old bridge over the Saale. The moment the raft crosses the weir, there is a deal of steering wanted, for the water is often very shallow under the archways, and it needs some skill to escape the buttresses."
"I like to hear all this," said Hans, "but I thought the Saale had always plenty of water in it."
"Not always; I have known it almost dry in some places after a long drought. And I have sometimes seen the river so full in the early spring, and the current so rapid that it tore the rafts apart, and dashed the stems of the trees against the bridge."
"Father used to say the rafts made a noise when they passed over the weir."
"And he was right. I know that I often thought it thundered when several went over in succession."
"I must be leaving now; we start away early to-morrow morning."
"I only wish I had some friends at Kösen, for I would speak a good word for you, my dear," said the kind landlady. "But I've been away so long that all my acquaintances have forgotten me. I, like you, Hans, have no relations, for I was an only child."
"Thank you all the same," answered the lad. "I don't feel so lonely as I thought I should, for I have been so used to hear father talk to God that since he's been dead, I've begun to talk to Him myself much more than I used to do."
"That's well. Your father was a good man, Hans; do you follow in his footsteps. I am glad Wilhelm is to be your companion; though I hear he does not remain at Kösen, but is going on to Halle. You'll not be long without finding new friends; only choose those who will raise you higher, and not sink you lower, for we've plenty to pull us down here. We need to have the constant presence of God's Spirit in our hearts if we would live upright and noble lives. Farewell; may God go with you."
Hans Richter and his companion arrived at Kösen on a beautiful evening in June. The moon was at its full, and shone directly over the weir, giving the rapid a silvery appearance. So exquisite was the scene that many of the townspeople and visitors gathered on the old bridge to watch the effect of the moonlight on the water.
Kösen is one of the smallest towns in Germany; it is not thickly populated, save in the summer months when its saline waters attract many strangers, as they are considered to be especially beneficial for children.
"We will not go so far as the toll-house," said Wilhelm Andrea; "it is too late to pay duty to-night. We will just moor our raft to a stake."
The raft was soon securely fastened to one of the many stakes which are placed at intervals along the banks of the Saale. And then Hans and his companion went off in search of a night's lodging.
They slept soundly in the small double-bedded room which they secured at a little inn, nor did they awake until the sun was high in the heavens. Hans was the first to rouse up, but Wilhelm was too tired to think of the day's work which lay before him. So the lad determined to go at once to the forester's friend at the toll-house, and ask if he could find him any employment, for he did not wish to lose time; he had to win his bread by his own exertions. The bundle which lay on his bed contained his best suit of clothes, a pair of boots, two shirts, and his father's Bible; all besides he had disposed of, and after meeting outstanding expenses with the results of the sale he had one thaler, or three shillings, left.
Before the boy set out, he read the twenty-third Psalm, and thought of his father's dying words; then he knelt in prayer to God, and asked for a blessing to rest on him, and that he might find friends and employment, and be honest, and not afraid of holding on to the right in time of temptation. When he had ended his prayer, he rolled his Bible carefully up in his clothes, then tied the bundle in a large silk pocket-handkerchief, and went in search of the forester's friend, who was known in Kösen as Karl Schmidt the toll-master.
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CHAPTER III.
KARL SCHMIDT.
EVERY raft which passes through Kösen has to pay duty, and therefore the little four-roomed cottage built on the banks of the Saale just above the weir is inhabited by the toll-master.
Karl Schmidt had served in this capacity at Kösen for many years. He was a quaint, queer, strange-looking man, rough in his manners, but with a good honest heart beneath a rather unpleasing exterior. He had no wife, nor had he ever been married; his neighbours often wondered that he was a single man. He and his God, and one other, knew why he chose a bachelor's life, for Karl never talked about his own affairs. Many townspeople and strangers were admitted into the pretty parlour, which commanded a view of the river, where Schmidt transacted his business when the weather was too wet or the days too cold to admit of his taking his chair outside the door, but only a few of these were his friends.
He was known to some in Kösen as "Old Karl," and yet he was neither grey nor infirm. It is true he had stray white hairs mingling with his brown locks, but he was still in the prime of manhood, so perhaps he earned his name because he was quiet in manner and naturally grave in disposition. He was rarely found at a fête, and certainly never seen in the public-house. Yet he filled a great place in Kösen, for he was regarded by many as a friend in need, and his advice was sought after and given cheerfully. By a few he was thought proud, but they were among the prosperous people in his own class who had never asked for his sympathy.
On the morning when Hans Richter sought him, he was up betimes, and busy about household matters. First he lighted the stove and put the kettle on; then he swept out the little kitchen and dusted and arranged the parlour. Afterwards he went upstairs again and made his bed and set his room in order. This done, he tapped at the door which faced his own. A feeble voice answered, "Come in."
Karl entered. On a clean bed lay a sickly woman, his mother, who had been partially paralysed for some years. She was his great duty in life; for her sake he had never thought of marriage. She had always been an invalid, and needed many luxuries; and when she grew so ill as to be unable to move without assistance, he was doubly thankful to God that he could keep her in tolerable comfort. He loved her intensely; to her he showed the gentle nature which lay concealed beneath the rough exterior.
"How have you slept, mother dear?" he asked, coming to her side and kissing her.
"Much better than usual, Karl," she answered, smiling at him fondly. "I mean to get up when Maria comes."
Maria was an old woman employed by Karl for a few hours every day to attend upon his mother.
"I am so glad to hear this," he answered. "I'll make coffee at once, and then I must go to business, for I hear the Burgomaster's wood arrived late last night, and I know he is in a great hurry to begin building. Besides, that boy will come on the raft who has been recommended to me. I really think I shall try him, for I have been obliged to dismiss Robert."
"I am glad he is gone, for your sake, but sorry for his own. He has too indulgent a father, and a bad companion in Paul Ebhardt, so that he has no one to influence him for good. I did hope he would have turned over a new leaf. I like the boy, with all his faults, though I fear he will be a constant source of trouble to the miller. You'll read with me as usual, Karl, before you go out?"
"Certainly, mother. I shouldn't expect a blessing on my day's work if we neglected to read the Bible and pray together morning and night."
"Our daily services have been a great joy and a pleasant duty, my son, for many years. I never understand how people like to go out into the turmoil of this world's work without first seeking strength to struggle with any difficulty, danger, or temptation that may arise. I should as soon think of going without food as going without prayer; even in my quiet life, Karl, I have my battles to fight. I often feel cross and irritable, and, but for God's help, I should tire you with my grumbling."
"Never, mother. I love you too well. I can't fancy you cross or irritable. I rarely leave the room but what I say, 'God help me to endure trouble as she does.'"
"And He will help you when trouble comes, Karl; the back is made to fit the burden. I used to wonder how people who were afflicted could be so patient, but I wonder no longer now, if they are the followers of the Lord Jesus Christ, for I have found that as I have grown weaker and my bodily ailments more severe, God has come nearer and nearer. You may depend upon it, the sick ones whom Jesus loves have a closer union with Him than those who bustle about the world. When we are ill, we are kept quiet by God; His Spirit holds communion with our spirit, and we hail the communion all the more because we have no hope, no help, but in Him."
"Oh, mother! How I like to hear you talk!—And it's not mere talk with you. I am ashamed of myself when I see you suffer, for I would fain keep you here, in spite of it all; and yet I know you must long to be at rest."
"My son, I am at rest now. This is the rest of faith; the rest of heaven will follow in God's good time."
The morning meal was over, and the morning reading and prayer, when Hans Richter arrived at the toll-house. Karl Schmidt was standing outside the door smoking his pipe.
"If you please, sir," said Hans, "I am the boy that you had a note about. Please can you give me employment?"
"What can you do?"
"Anything."
"Anything sometimes means nothing. I'd rather know what you are able to do."
"I can cut down trees, sir, make rafts, and since mother died, I've cooked for father and tidied the room; and I'm a bit of a carpenter; and I want so much to stay here that I'll try very hard and learn to do any work you set me."
"I must think over all your qualifications. You seem to me to know a little about many things, but I hope that does not mean that you are steady to nothing."
"No, sir; I don't think that's a bad fault of mine. But may I tell you what I want to do most of all?"
"Certainly."
"I want to help the rafts over the weir. I heard you always employed a lad for that, and I do so wish you would take me."
"Why do you so particularly wish to help the rafts over the weir?"
Hans hesitated, and Karl noted his hesitation.
"Speak out, boy," he said, somewhat sternly. "If you and I are to come to terms, you must tell the truth."
"I never told a lie in my life, sir, and I hope I shall never be tempted to tell one. I was only wondering if I dare just talk to you as I used to do to my father."
"Try me," answered Karl.
"What I'm going to say has to do with my dead father, sir. The last conversation we had was about the rafts, and the last words he said were, 'Stick to the raft.' And I mean to stick to the raft, and that's why I want to stand on the weir."
"But I don't yet see what standing on the weir has to do with sticking to the raft. You only stand on the weir to guide the rafts into the right channel."
"I know that, sir. But don't you see I can say to all the lads and men as they come over, 'Stick to the raft,' and that'll, maybe, lead to further conversation?"
"What further conversation?"
"It's my dead mother's idea, sir. Soon after father gave himself to the Lord, he had to take a raft to a neighbouring village. And when he started, mother told him to stick to it, and explained that she wanted him to hold on to a Raft which would bear him at all times. She meant the Lord Jesus Christ."
"I like that idea. 'There is a Friend that sticketh closer than a brother.' I'm not a man of many words, but I think I could say to strangers, 'Stick to the raft,' and maybe in some case I could explain my words, and bid them stick to the raft in a spiritual sense. Boy, you have taught me something to-day. I'm a little too much inclined to let people come and go without trying to do them good. But now tell me why you have left your forest life."
"Because I've no parents living, sir, and I'm very lonely. I had to come to Kösen with the Burgomaster's wood, and I thought I'd rather remain than go back, if I could find employment. And I want to get a better education, for I'm at the top of the village school."
"You'll meet with many temptations here, and with boys who have no principle to guide them, who will try and lead you into sin. Are you strong enough to refuse to be led away?"
Hans thought for a moment before he answered, "I hope I am."
"In whose strength shall you resist? Your own?"
"No, sir; from a baby I've been taught this, 'Cast all your care on God; He careth for you; and will not suffer you to be tempted beyond what you are able to bear.' Father had a habit of talking to God about everything, and I try to follow his example."
"That's well, Hans. I like the look of you, and my friend gave you a good character, so I'll engage you to help men and boys stick to the raft in both senses. But mind, if I find you have only talked fairly, and are untrue or dishonest, I shall dismiss you."
"I am quite ready to serve you on those terms, sir. When may I come?"
"To-day; this morning, if you like. Where did you sleep last night?"
Hans explained that he and Wilhelm Andrea had found accommodation at a little inn, and that his companion would soon be coming to pay duty on his raft.
"I know he wants to start again in good time," he added, "for some of the wood we brought down last night is going on to Halle. It is not all for the Burgomaster. May I go back and help him?"
"Certainly. I have only one more question to ask, Where are you going to lodge?"
"Can't I be with you, sir? It will be so handy for me to be near in case you want my services late at night or early in the morning."
"I've no place for you. But you will have little difficulty in finding a room in one of the cottages. I will arrange that matter for you."
Hans left Karl Schmidt with a light heart, and spent the rest of the morning in assisting Wilhelm. There was plenty to do, for the raft was an unusually large and heavy one, and it took some time to break it in pieces. Then the stems for the Burgomaster had to be dragged up the bank, and the rest tied together again, so that it was late in the afternoon before Wilhelm was ready to leave Kösen. His raft was now so small he was quite able to manage it by himself.
Hans was waiting, pole in hand, on the weir when Andrea came, and Karl was close behind, ready to give the lad his first lesson. He proved an apt scholar, and guided the raft skilfully on to the lowest part of the weir, crying, "Stick to it, Wilhelm!" as it passed over.
Wilhelm called back, "I will stick to the raft, Hans, and I'll remember all you mean by those words. Good-bye. I hope you'll be happy at Kösen."
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CHAPTER IV.
THE MILLER'S SON.
HERR KLEIN, to whom the mill at Kösen belonged, was a hard-working man who had a wife and eight children to support; morning, noon, and sometimes far into the night, he was at his business. He was a good husband and an indulgent father. Perhaps it was the easy manner he had of dealing with the faults of his young ones that made his eldest and only son Robert so determined to lead an idle life. He was a lad of sixteen who had no particular principle to guide him, and liked to do nothing that gave him any trouble. The only thing he excelled in was archery; he had carried off the Burgomaster's prize for two years in succession at the Schutzen Fest (shooting festival), and they were about the only prizes he had ever won, or tried after, in his life.
Finding that his son was so averse to work in his mill, Herr Klein asked Karl Schmidt to allow him to try his hand at helping the rafts over the weir. And as the toll-master was just then without a boy, he engaged Robert. But the latter, instead of helping, so often nearly brought both men and rafts into dangerous positions that at last Schmidt was compelled to dismiss him, and, as we know, Hans was engaged in his stead.
In all probability Robert would have seen his place filled without being at all troubled had it not been for a very bad companion of his, the closest and dearest friend he had, one Paul Ebhardt, the son of the master tailor in Kösen, who considered that it was an infringement upon the rights of the town for a stranger to come and, as he termed it, "turn out a fellow who was born and bred close to the weir."
It was evident that Herr Klein admired the look and bearing of Hans, for he said to his son soon after the lad came to live with the toll-master, "I do wish, Robert, you were as steady as Schmidt's new boy; I very much dislike seeing you constantly idling about."
But the miller did not enforce obedience, and truly he had no confidence in his first-born, and was afraid of giving him any position of trust connected with the mill. He hoped that as he grew older he would be wiser. Nevertheless he did not set before him the miseries which must accrue from laziness, nor that "Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do." He was proud of his son, who was a well-grown, handsome, good-natured lad, but beyond this had nothing much to commend him.
Hans had been in his situation for several weeks, and had given the toll-master so much satisfaction that the latter proposed to his mother that a bed should be placed in the kitchen to accommodate him. "He is so handy at accounts, I shall be glad to have him to help me with the books," said Karl.
Frau Schmidt gave her hearty consent to the arrangement, and added, "He will be a companion for you during the winter. I like the boy very much, and I think if he is in the house, you can carry on his education during the long evenings."
So a bed was bought, and Hans was installed in his new quarters. The orphan was very happy to be there, and thankful to God that the influences of his home were such that he would be helped forward in the pilgrimage of life. He already loved patient Frau Schmidt, and hailed the days when she was well enough to sit up in her easy-chair and chat to him.
Hans was in the habit of taking off his boots and socks when he stood in the water to help the rafts over the weir. He removed them as usual one morning, and left them on the shore, without giving a thought as to their safety, while he went, pole in hand, to assist four rafts, which had been waiting for a good supply of water to pass over the weir.
Robert and his friend Paul were sauntering along the banks of the river when they observed Hans take off his boots and socks.
"Let's hide them," suggested Paul. "I hate that boy, and should like to make Kösen too hot for him."
"It's not worth while," answered Robert. "If any one owes him a grudge, I do, for he turned me out of my situation. But he's not worth a thought."
"That's one reason why I dislike him so much," said Paul. And he might have added, "the chief reasons are that he rather avoids me than seeks to know me, and on several occasions when I've invited him to go for a walk, he has refused to accompany me. And one evening when I was drinking at a public-house, he turned away."
This was true, for Hans had been warned by his master to have no companionship with Robert or Paul. "One is idle, and the other bad," added Karl Schmidt; "therefore you had better try to keep clear of them."
Hans knew this was sound advice, for he had seen Paul behave in such a manner that his own good sense would have told him to avoid Ebhardt if he would cling to the good.
"Now do let's pay him off," urged Paul.
"Well, just as you like. We'll put his boots and socks under that rubbish."
Accordingly they were pushed under a nasty heap of refuse, and then the boys hid behind the trunk of an old tree, and waited to see how Hans would behave.
In the meantime, the latter was fully employed. The first raft had only one man in it, who was accompanied by a favourite dog. The creature whined piteously, and was evidently frightened by the noise of the rushing water.
"Stick to the raft, and mind your dog," shouted Hans.
The stranger, thus admonished, took the animal into his arms, and planting his feet down firmly, passed the weir in safety.
"Give me a help with your pole until I'm under the bridge," called the man; "I'm not strong enough to keep clear of it single-handed, my cough is so bad."
Hans sprang on to the raft, and gave a few vigorous thrusts with his pole.
"It's all right now," he said. "I'm afraid you are very ill. It seems to me you are not fit to come down alone on this raft."
"I know that as well as you can tell me," answered the stranger, curtly, "but a man must live. Mine will be a short life, and by no means a merry one."
"You managed to stick well to the raft as you passed over the weir," replied Hans; "and if you'll stick to another kind of Raft, you'll be able to meet any sickness that comes."
"What do you mean?"
"Why, the Bible tells us that Jesus Christ came into the world to save us from sin; and if we cling to Him in all our troubles, we shall be able to bear them."
"What stuff are you talking to me, boy?" exclaimed the man, angrily. "I want no more help, now we are safely under the bridge. Thank you for what you've done, but let me give you a word of advice: if you use that sort of talk to strangers, you'll get a thrashing one of these days. The idea of a child like you setting up to teach grown men!"
Hans felt very sore as he walked quickly back to the weir; he was more than sore, quite cross, and indignant that his words had been received in such an uncourteous spirit. But he had no time then to indulge his vexation, for the three remaining rafts had to be helped over. He did his best, save only that no words escaped him beyond what he was compelled to say; he did not cry out cheerily, "Stick to the raft; take care; keep in the current!"
So soon as he had completed his morning's work, he prepared to go home, but, to his dismay, he found that his boots and socks were gone.
Hans looked about in every direction in vain, and at last relinquished the search, fearing his master would be waiting dinner for him. Paul had no mind to allow his victim to escape thus easily, so he broke into a derisive laugh. Then, for the first time, Hans discovered that Robert and his friend were watching his movements, and he felt sure they had played him a trick.
"Where are my boots? You've taken them away," he called out.
"That's like your impudence, young fellow," said Paul, coming toward him, followed by Robert; "it's as good as calling us thieves. Take that for being so impertinent!" And he struck Hans a violent blow across the mouth.
As we know, Hans was out of temper, not only annoyed at the stranger, but vexed at losing his boots. He sprang on to Paul, and before the latter could defend himself, he was stretched full length on the grass.
"You coward! How dare you hit me?" he cried. "You're in my power now. Tell me where are my boots, or I will thrash you."
"Help me, help me!" screamed Paul, "Robert, he'll kill me."
"No, I shall not," answered Hans. "Give me your hand; I'm sorry I was in such a temper." For a still small voice whispered, "Is that sticking to the Raft?"
"I really call that first-rate behaviour," said easy Robert, roused for once to have an opinion of his own. "He had you down, and no mistake, Paul. You'll find your boots under the rubbish heap, Hans."
"You shall answer for this," muttered Paul, slowly rising from the ground. "I will be revenged on you, Hans Richter. Paul Ebhardt generally remembers to pay off any grudge he owes. Come along, Robert."
Hans found his boots and socks, but it took him some minutes to shake off the dust and dirt with which they were covered. And thus he was fully a quarter of an hour late for dinner.
The toll-master was busy with a customer, so that he made no comment on his want of punctuality.
The meal passed almost in silence, for the lad was so busy with himself, and though his master addressed him once or twice he only replied in monosyllables.
It was Karl Schmidt's habit to spend half-an-hour with his mother after dinner, and latterly Hans had been admitted to the conference, and very much he valued the advice and counsel he received from the sick woman. On this day, a friend came to see Karl, so Hans went up alone to the invalid.
"Oh, Frau Schmidt, may I tell you all—everything?" he asked, kneeling down by the side of her arm-chair.
"What have you to tell me?" she asked, passing her hands over the upturned face. "There has been something amiss to-day; you have been crying."
"And I'm sure you will say I ought to cry, dear frau, for I have been so very wicked. I am a regular hypocrite." And Hans poured into her ears the history of the morning's adventures.
"Poor boy!" she said, kindly. "Yes, you have failed to stick to the Raft; you have forgotten to cling to the One who is mighty to save, and have allowed self to gain a victory. The hardest battle we have to fight in our Christian course is the battle with ourselves. We think we are doing great things, and then perhaps a rebuff comes, and, instead of searching into our motives and crying out for the Spirit of the living God to show us ourselves and bring us anew to Jesus, we grow angry and vexed that we are despised and misunderstood."
"Yes, yes; you are right, dear frau," said Hans, the tears coming afresh at the words he heard. "I was so angry with the stranger, and wounded because he scolded me."
"The next time you receive a rebuff, contrast your trials with His who endured such contradiction of sinners against Himself—who was tempted in all points, and yet without sin. Pray for the indwelling of His Spirit when you try to do His work, and ever remember that when He was reviled, He reviled not again, but was despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief, and we hid as it were our faces from Him. We have many lessons to learn, which will only be learnt through tears, but they will be blessed tears, for 'they that sow in tears shall reap in joy.'"
Karl entered the room at this moment, and Hans made his escape, and left Frau Schmidt to explain to his master why he went away so abruptly.
"I am sorry all this has happened," remarked Karl, when he had heard the particulars. "I do not mean that I am sorry Hans received a scolding from the man on the raft, for in the Master's service he must not expect all sunshine. But I am sorry he has provoked Paul Ebhardt, for that boy will not easily forget that he has for once been conquered."
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CHAPTER V.
THE MARTYR SPIRIT.
HANS never found his days too long; he had lessons to learn when his master did not require his services, and besides this, he practised shooting at the target. The festival was to be held in August, when the Burgomaster invited all the boys of Kösen to enter their names among the lists of competitors for his prize, and Karl Schmidt advised him to try for it, promising to give him instruction in archery.
The toll-keeper's cottage stood alone in quiet nook, and behind it a pathway ran up a slope—which was richly carpeted with flowers and furze, with here and there an old tree standing—on to higher ground, where was a pretty pine-wood with rustic seats placed in all directions for the accommodation of visitors. This spot commanded a delightful view of the town of Kösen and its winding river.
Hans was able to set up his target behind the toll-house, and practise there under the superintendence of his master, who had shot well in his youthful days, and who not only gave him lessons in the art, but furnished his pupil with his own bow and arrows. No sort of teaching came amiss to Hans; he was naturally so clever that he soon mastered difficulties, for he gave his whole attention to whatever he undertook.
"They say that Hans Richter has entered his name on the list of competitors for the Burgomaster's prize," said Paul Ebhardt to his friend Robert. "Do you mean to let him win it away from you?"
"He is not likely to get it," answered Robert. "He is only a raw fellow from the forest who has had no practice; I'm not afraid of him."
"I say he means to win," said Paul. "I am told he has put his target on the low ground by the toll-house and that he practises there every evening, and Karl Schmidt helps him. My father says Karl knows what he is about; some years ago he was the best shot in Kösen."
"For all that, I'm not afraid," replied Robert.
"Don't be such a dolt!" exclaimed his friend, angrily. "I detest Hans, and I can't think what you mean by being so careless over your prize. I suppose if he wins it away from you, you will say, Thank you."
"No, indeed I shan't," answered Robert, with some spirit. "But," he added, more quietly, "he'll stand no chance, never fear."
"You don't know how well he shoots. Come with me this evening, and let us watch him. And then you will better understand that you will be beaten if you don't take care."
Accordingly, that evening Paul and his friend secreted themselves behind a tree which stood very near to the target, where they could see, yet not be seen, without running any risk of being struck by a stray arrow.
It was well that Karl Schmidt was present, otherwise Paul would have done his best to excite his friend to pick a quarrel with Hans. Robert found that the arrows went near the bull's-eye, and even into its centre now and then—showing that Hans had a correct eye, and only needed to persevere in order to equal if not excel him.
Every time he shot an arrow, Paul whispered triumphantly, "I told you he would be a match for you."
Yes, certainly Robert had a rival to fear.
When Hans and his master went into the cottage, the friends emerged from their hiding-place. Paul's face expressed his gladness, for he saw that Robert was more annoyed and vexed than he had ever seen him before. So, instead of deriding his companion, he changed his tactics and began to pity him.
"Old fellow," he said, laying his hand on Robert's shoulder, "I'm sorry for you. He is sure to win, and you'll lose. It is a great shame that this fellow who is a stranger in Kösen, should put himself forward and gain a prize from our Burgomaster, over one who belongs to our town."
"But he has not won it yet. And what is more, he shall not win it," said Robert—"that is, if I can beat him."
"You may try, but as sure as my name is Paul Ebhardt, so sure am I he'll win; so make up your mind to lose. His hand is more steady and his eye more correct than yours; he only wants practice."
"He will not win the prize," said Robert, confidently.
"He ought not to, but I am afraid he will succeed. I wish, with all my heart, we could contrive some means of preventing him from shooting in the match."
"Shall we go to the Burgomaster and say that he is a stranger here, and that we pray he will only permit our Kösen boys to compete?"
"No; that won't do exactly. The Burgomaster will tell you that he can make no rules of the kind. Perhaps I shall think of some other plan. I have to pay the rascal off for insulting me."
Paul felt he had a right to annoy Hans, and he wanted to be revenged on him,—forgetting he had in the first instance thrown down the gauntlet, and that, before that unfortunate encounter by the river-side, he had no real reason to dislike him.
It was on Saturday evening when the friends watched Hans Richter shoot; we will see in what spirit they awoke on Sunday morning.
Robert's first thoughts were these: "I'll lose no time, but practise hard, so that I may enter into fair competition with Richter—for, after all, he has as much right to try for the Burgomaster's prize as I have, but he is not going to succeed." Away from his friend he was more inclined to act fairly towards Hans.
Paul Ebhardt's waking thoughts were these: "That fellow, Richter, shall not have the prize if I can make him lose it. This shall be my revenge for his behaviour to me. I must try and work out some plan to prevent him from winning, for I see he is very anxious to be first. But how it's to be done I don't exactly know. There are, fortunately, some days before the festival."
To Hans, this Sunday morning brought very different feelings. When he awoke, he remembered it was God's own day, and that he would hear the gospel of Jesus Christ preached in the old church. He would go to a Bible-class in the afternoon, and the remainder of the day would be spent with Frau Schmidt and his master.
The hours sped along only too quickly for him. And as soon as he had taken afternoon coffee to the invalid and his master, he joined them, Bible in hand.
Frau Schmidt had been unusually well, and had enjoyed the beautiful summer day from her open window; the air was so still, the sun so bright, and the peace and rest of the scene without harmonised so well with the abiding sense of peace and rest which filled her own soul. Though she was unable to go beyond her bedroom, she was thankful to be able to sit in her comfortable arm-chair and enjoy the pretty landscape.
"I have something very interesting to read to you," said Karl Schmidt, as Hans entered the room. "You will be surprised to hear that it has to do with a fête and that I mean to give you a holiday to attend it."
"Thank you, sir, but please tell me something about the fête before you begin to read."
"It is called a 'cherry feast.' The reason why this name is given to it, I will explain later."
"Where is it held, sir?"
"At Naumburg, a town about five miles from here. Thither many young men and maidens, as well as old folks and children, repair on the 28th of July. The name of John Huss, the great reformer, is associated with this fête. Do you know who he was?"
"No, sir."
"I thought, if you approved, mother, I would read Hans an account of this good man, because he will learn from it how much a true Christian can endure, who rests entirely on his Saviour."
"Do, Karl; I shall enjoy listening to it," answered Frau Schmidt. "John Huss was a very great man, and above all, great in his abounding love towards God. He cared not for prison, nor chains, nor mockings. His persecutors could not hurt his soul, however much they might inflict pain on his body. Read on, Karl."
"John Huss was born at Hussineez, a town on the borders of Bavaria, in July, 1369. His parents were poor, and he was early accustomed to do hard work and take very sparingly of food. At the age of twenty-seven he entered the university of Prague, and at the close of the 14th century became confessor to Sophia, Queen of Bohemia, and preacher in what was called the Bethlehem Chapel, attached to the university.
"Wycliffe, who has been justly styled the greatest of all reformers before the Reformation, was at this time creating a formidable revolution in the religious life of England and Scotland by his preaching, and writing; nor was it long before this new teaching penetrated to the Continent, and spread even into Bohemia, where it stirred the spirits of some good men. Among the number was John Huss, who said, when speaking of the effect of these writings of Wycliffe on his mind, 'I am drawn to them by the manner in which they strive to lead all men back to Christ.'
"In the year 1414 Huss was charged with teaching heresy, and summoned by the Emperor Sigismund to appear before the Council of Constance. He obeyed the summons, and went in the strength of God, having besought of his Heavenly Father wisdom to answer his accusers and strength to remain firm to his Saviour. The Emperor furnished him with a letter to ensure his safe-conduct; and, accompanied by several friends, he set out to Constance, and reached that town on the 3rd of November.
"He was permitted to remain unmolested during four weeks; and that time he employed in freely explaining his opinions and entreating to be heard publicly. But such was not the intention of his enemies, for on the 28th of November he was thrown into a dungeon; nor did the Emperor interfere, in spite of his promise, beyond procuring poor Huss a more airy prison.
"For seven months he remained in confinement, and during this period his health became greatly impaired from the rigorous treatment he received at the hands of his tormentors. In the month of June he was brought before the Council, and ordered to abjure errors which he had never believed. Nor was it only on one occasion, for four times did Huss appear before these cruel men. 'How can I abjure what I never held?' he asked repeatedly.
"After his fourth appearance the Council gave him a choice of two things—recantation or death; and sent him back to prison to deliberate as to which of the two he would accept.
"But Huss needed no time for deliberation; he made his choice when he determined to know only Christ, and Him crucified; and he never proved false to his Master, though his friends entreated him to save his life at any cost. 'I write in prison and chains,' he says in a letter to some friends, 'expecting to-morrow to receive sentence of death, but full of hope in God that I shall not swerve from the truth, nor abjure errors imputed to me by false witnesses.'
"The sentence of death was soon passed upon John Huss. It was read to him in the presence of the Emperor and Council. The persecuted man fell on his knees, and cried, 'Lord Jesus, forgive my enemies. Thou knowest I have been falsely accused by them; forgive them for the sake of Thy great mercy.'
"His persecutors answered this prayer with loud laughter and shouts of derision, which followed him even to the place of execution. When he was heavily laden with chains and led to the stake, he exclaimed, 'I willingly wear these for Christ's sake, who bore still more grievous ones.'
"Before the fire was kindled he was again besought to recant. 'What error should I recant,' he cried, 'when I am conscious of none? The chief aim of my preaching has been to teach men repentance and the forgiveness sins, according to the truth of the gospel of Jesus Christ.'
"So the fire was kindled, and the smoke and flames rose around him; but in the midst of it all his voice was heard, and these were his words: 'Jesus, Son of the living God, have mercy on me.'"
Hans drew a deep sigh when Karl closed the little book from which he had been reading.
"What a grand death to die!" he said. "It reminds me of the martyr Stephen. I've been reading about him to-day. He fell asleep in Jesus after he had cried with a loud voice, 'Lord, lay not this sin to their charge.' I wonder if I could forgive my enemies like that!"
"Yes, my dear boy, you could, if you were sticking to the Raft," said Frau Schmidt. "The law of forgiveness was taught these good men by their blessed Master, and they were His followers. Methinks that Master's words were yet ringing in the ears of Stephen, 'Father, forgive them, they know not what they do.' He found it no hard task to pray, as did his Lord, that his cruel tormentors might be forgiven."
"I see it all," answered Hans; "mother's words must be felt in my heart if I mean them to come out in my life. I must really 'stick to the Raft' so tightly that God's promises will be mine. But, sir, I don't quite understand what the death of John Huss has to do with the fête."
"I am going to tell you now," answered Karl; "I only waited until my mother had spoken. In the year 1482, Procopius, the wild leader of the Hussites, came with his army to Naumburg, and besieged the city, because Bishop Gerhard of that town, who was a member of the Council of Constance, was one of the men who condemned the noble Huss to be burnt at the stake. He was induced to raise the siege by the entreaties of the children who flocked to his camp, and prayed him to depart and leave them in peace. So earnestly did these young ones plead that Procopius heard them, and promised to withdraw his army. Nor did he send the children away empty, for he gave them a liberal supply of cherries; hence this event is commemorated by what is called 'the cherry feast.'"
"How much I shall like to go! I suppose it is very gay at Naumburg. What do the people do?" said Hans.
"You shall see for yourself," replied his master. "And now come, my boy, let us stroll along the river-side this beautiful summer evening."
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CHAPTER VI.
THE PROMISED HOLIDAY.
THE 28th of July came on the following Thursday. Hans counted the days, nay, almost the hours, which must intervene; he longed so much to see what the cherry feast was like. The special train which left Kösen at mid-day was not to return until late in the evening; for fireworks were to conclude the entertainment, and they could not be let off until after nine o'clock.
Hans was dressed in a new suit of clothes, a present from his master. Karl was growing increasingly fond of him; he had never met his equal before, and was fast forgetting the relations they bore to one another. The lad was growing to be more like an adopted son than a hired servant.
"I have come to show myself in my new suit," said Hans, after tapping at Frau Schmidt's door to ascertain if he might enter. "Isn't it a nice one? It fits capitally. Oh, I am so happy, dear frau, I have such a kind master; and I love you so much—you seem to help me on my way."