IN WHICH HARRY FARES SUMPTUOUSLY, AND TAKES LEAVE OF THE LITTLE ANGEL
When Harry could no longer see the little angel, he fixed his eyes
upon the ground, and continued to think of her. It is not every day
that a pauper boy sees an angel, or even one whom the enthusiasm of
the imagination invests with angelic purity and angelic affections.
In the records of individual experience, as well as in the history of
the world, there are certain points of time which are rendered
memorable by important events. By referring to a chronological table,
the young reader will see the great events which have marked the
progress of civilized nations from the lowest depths of barbarism up
to their present enlightened state. Every individual, if he had the
requisite wisdom, could make up a list of epochs in his own
experience. Perhaps he would attach too little importance to some
things, too much to others; for we cannot always clearly perceive the
influences which assist in forming the character. Some trivial event,
far back in the past, which inspired him with a new reverence for
truth and goodness, may be forgotten. The memory may not now cherish
the look, the smile of approbation, which strengthened the heart, when
it was struggling against the foe within; but its influence was none
the less potent. "It is the last pound which breaks the camel's back;"
and that look, that smile, may have closed the door of the heart
against a whole legion of evil spirits, and thus turned a life of woe
and bitterness into a life of sunshine and happiness.
There are hundreds of epochs in the experience of every person, boy or
man--events which raised him up or let him down in the scale of moral
existence. Harry West had now reached one of these epochs in his
pilgrimage.
To meet a little girl in the woods, to kill a black snake, and thus
relieve her from a terrible fright, to say the least, was not a great
event, as events are reckoned in the world; yet it was destined to
exert a powerful influence upon his future career. It was not the
magnitude of the deed performed, or the chivalrous spirit which called
it forth, that made this a memorable event to Harry; it was the angel
visit--the kindling influence of a pure heart that passed from her to
him. But I suppose the impatient reader will not thank me for
moralizing over two whole pages, and I leave the further application
of the moral to the discretion of my young friends.
Harry felt strangely--more strangely than he had ever felt before. As
he walked back to the cabin everything seemed to have assumed a new
appearance. Somehow the trees did not look as they used to look. He
saw through a different medium. His being seemed to have undergone a
change. He could not account for it; perhaps he did not try.
He entered the cabin; and, without dropping the train of thought which
Julia's presence suggested, he busied himself in making the place more
comfortable. He shook up the straw, and made his bed, stuffed dried
grass into the chinks and crannies in the roof, fastened the door up
with some birch withes, and replaced some of the stones of the chimney
which had fallen down. This work occupied him for nearly two hours,
though, so busy were his thoughts, they seemed not more than half an
hour.
He had scarcely finished these necessary repairs before he heard the
light step of her who fed him, as Elijah was fed by the ravens, for it
seemed like a providential supply. She saw him at the door of the
cabin; and she no longer dallied with a walk, but ran with all her
might.
"O, Harry, I am so glad!" she cried, out of breath, as she handed him
a little basket, whose contents were carefully covered with a piece of
brown paper.
"Glad of what, Julia?" asked Harry, smiling from sympathy with her.
"I have heard all about it; and I am so glad you are a good boy!"
exclaimed she, panting like a pretty fawn which had gamboled its
breath away.
"About what?"
"Father has seen and talked with--who was he?"
Harry laughed. How could he tell whom her father had seen and talked
with? He was not a magician.
"The man that owned the dog, and the horse and the boat."
"O! George Leman," replied Harry, now deeply interested in the little
maiden's story. "Where did he see him?"
"Over at the store. But I have brought you some dinner; and while you
are eating it, I will tell you all about it. Come, there is a nice big
rock--that shall be your table."
Julia, full of excitement, seized the basket, and ran to the rock, a
little way from the cabin. Pulling off half a dozen great oak leaves
from a shrub, she placed them on the rock.
"Here is a piece of meat, Harry, on this plate," she continued,
putting it on an oak leaf; "here is a piece of pie; here is some bread
and butter; here is cheese; and here is a piece of cold apple pudding.
There! I forgot the sauce."
"Never mind the sauce," said Harry; and he could hardly keep from
bursting into tears, as he saw how good the little angel was.
It seemed as though she could not have been more an angel, if she had
had a pair of wings. The radiant face was there; the pure and loving
heart was there; all was there but the wings, and he could easily
imagine them.
And what a dinner! Roast beef, pudding, pie! He was not much
accustomed to such luxuries; but just then he did not appreciate the
sumptuousness of the feast, for it was eclipsed by the higher
consideration of the devotion of the giver.
"Come, eat, Harry! I am so glad!" added Julia.
"So am I. If you feed me as high as this, I shall want to stay here a
good while."
"I hope you will."
"Only to-day; to-morrow I must be moving towards Boston."
"I was hoping you would stay here a good long while. I shall be so
pleased to bring you your breakfast, and dinner, and supper every
day!"
"Your father would not like it."
"I don't know why he shouldn't. You are not very hungry; you don't eat
as you did this morning."
"I ate so much then. Tell me, now, what your father said, Julia."
"He saw George Leman; and he told him how you tied his horse to the
fence, and how careful you were to put the blanket on him, so that he
shouldn't catch cold after his hard run. That was very kind of you,
Harry, when you knew they were after you. Father said almost any one
would have run the horse till he dropped down. That one thing showed
that you were not a bad boy."
"I wouldn't have injured George Leman for anything," added Harry.
"He's a good fellow, and never did me any harm."
"He said, when he found his horse, he was so glad he wouldn't have
chased you any farther for all the world. He told father what Mr.
Nason said about you--that you were a good boy, had good feelings, and
were willing to work. He didn't blame you for not wanting to go to
Jacob Wire's--wasn't that the man?"
"Yes."
"And he didn't blame you for running away. Nobody believes that you
set the barn afire; and, Harry, they have caught the other boy--Ben
Smart, wasn't it?"
"Yes, that was his name."
"They caught him in the woods, over the other side of the river."
"Did you find out whether the dog was killed?" asked Harry.
"Mr. Leman said he thought he would get over it; and he has got his
boat again."
"I am glad of that; and if anybody ever catches me with such a fellow
as Ben Smart again, they'll know it."
"You can't think how I wanted to tell father where you were, when he
spoke so well of you. He even said he hoped you would get off, and
that you must be in the woods around here somewhere. You will let me
tell him now--won't you, Harry?"
"I think not."
"Why not, Harry?"
"He may hope I will get off, and still not be willing to help me off."
Julia looked very much disappointed; for she had depended upon
surprising her father with the story of the snake, and the little
fugitive in the woods.
"He will be very good to you," pleaded she.
"I dare say he would; but he may think it his duty to send me back to
Redfield; and Squire Walker would certainly make me go to Jacob
Wire's."
"But you won't go yet."
"To-morrow, Julia."
"I'm afraid you will never get to Boston."
"O, yes, I shall. I don't think it is safe for me to stay here much
longer."
"Why not? Hardly any one ever goes through the woods here at this time
of year but myself."
"Didn't your mother want to know what you were going to do with the
dinner you brought me?"
"No, I went to the store room, and got it. She didn't see me; but I
don't like to do anything unknown to her."
"You mustn't do it again."
"You must have something to eat."
"You have brought enough to last me while I stop here. To-morrow
morning I must start; so I suppose I shall not see you again. But I
shall never forget you," said Harry looking as sad as he felt.
"No, you mustn't go off without any breakfast. Promise me you will not
go till I have brought you some."
Harry assured Julia he had enough, and tried to persuade her not to
bring him any more food; but Julia was resolute, and he was obliged to
promise. Having finished his dinner, she gathered up the remnants of
the feast and put them in the cabin for his supper. She was afraid to
remain any longer, lest she might be missed at home and Harry
gallantly escorted her beyond the brook on her return home.
He busied himself during the greater part of the afternoon in
gathering dry grass and dead leaves for the improvement of his bed in
the cabin. About an hour before sundown, he was surprised to receive
another visit from Julia Bryant. She had her little basket in one
hand, and in the other she carried a little package.
"I didn't expect to see you again," said Harry, as she approached.
"I don't know as you will like what I have done," she began timidly;
"but I did it for the best."
"I shall like anything you have done," answered Harry promptly, "even
if you should send me back to Redfield."
"I wouldn't do such a mean thing as that; but I have told somebody
that you are here."
"Have you?" asked Harry, not a little alarmed.
"You will forgive me if I have done wrong--won't you?"
Harry looked at her. He mistook her anxious appearance for sorrow at
what she had done. He could not give her pain; so he told her that,
whatever she had done, she was forgiven.
"But whom have you told?"
"John Lane."
"Who is he?"
"Mrs. Lane's oldest son. He drives the baggage wagon that goes to
Boston every week. He promised not to lisp a word to a single soul,
and he would be your friend for my sake."
"Why did you tell him?"
"Well, you see, I was afraid you would never get to Boston; and I
thought what a nice thing it would be if you could only ride all the
way there with John Lane. John likes me because I carry things to his
mother, and I am sure he won't tell."
"How good you are, Julia!" exclaimed Harry. "I may forget everybody
else in the world; but I shall never forget you."
A tear moistened his eye, as he uttered his enthusiastic declaration.
"The worst of it is, John starts at two o'clock--right in the middle
of the night."
"So much the better," replied Harry, wiping away the tear.
"You will take the wagon on the turnpike, where the cart path comes
out. But you won't wake up."
"Yes, I shall."
"I am sorry to have you go; for I like you, Harry. You will be a very
good boy, when you get to Boston; for they say the city is a wicked
place."
"I will try."
"There are a great many temptations there, people say."
"I shall try to be as good as you are," replied Harry, who could
imagine nothing better. "If I fail once, I shall try again."
"Here, Harry, I have brought you a good book--the best of all books. I
have written your name and mine in it; and I hope you will keep it and
read it as long as you live. It is the Bible."
Harry took the package, and thanked her for it.
"I never read the Bible much; but I shall read this for your sake."
"No, Harry; read it for your own sake."
"I will, Julia."
"How I shall long to hear from you! John Lane goes to Boston every
week. Won't you write me a few lines, now and then, to let me know how
you prosper, and whether you are good or not?"
"I will. I can't write much; but I suppose I can--"
"Never mind how you write, if I can only read it."
The sun had gone down, and the dark shadows of night were gathering
over the forest when they parted, but a short distance from Mr.
Bryant's house. With the basket which contained provisions for his
journey and the Bible in his hand, he returned to the hut, to get what
sleep he might before the wagon started.