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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