Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
[Illustration: A MEAN ACTION.]
[Illustration]
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.
I. THE RAFT
II. KÖSEN
III. KARL SCHMIDT
IV. THE MILLER'S SON
V. THE MARTYR SPIRIT
VI. THE PROMISED HOLIDAY
VII. THE SECRET
VIII. THE SCHUTZEN FEST
IX. WRONG SET RIGHT
X. THE INTERVIEW
XI. THE POOL OF BETHESDA
XII. SAVED BY THE RAFT
[Illustration]
STICK TO THE RAFT.
[Illustration]
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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