In one of the small towns in the north of Austria there once lived a
humble pair, as far as earthly goods and position go, but who were rich
in what was far better--love to God and simple trust in His Fatherly
care.
The woman was a Tyrolese, the daughter of an old harper, who still
resided in one of the small villages among the mountains. As a
motherless girl she had been his only companion, and many a time her
sweet pure voice would be heard accompanying her father in the simple
melodies of her native land, as he wandered from place to place to earn
a livelihood.
The time came when the harper's daughter left her hills for a home in
town, but was more than repaid by the tender love of her husband, who,
though he could earn but a scanty subsistence, was good and kind to her.
Their fare was frugal, but, happy in each other's affection, they were
content and thankful, and, contrasting their lot with that of the
Saviour, would say, "Can we, the servants, expect to fare better than
our Lord and Master?"
As years passed by, three little children were sent to them by their
Father in heaven, to whom they gave the names of Toni, Hans, and Nanny;
very precious gifts, and they showed their gratitude by training them
early in the right way, teaching them from His word to know the good
God, to love and trust Him, to try to please Him, and to love their
neighbour as themselves. They were unselfish little children, and would
at any time share their scanty meals with others in distress. "Little
children, love one another," was a text often repeated, and also
practised, by them.
The two boys were very fond of each other, and both were united in love
for the little sister whom they felt bound to protect. Great was their
delight when she first tottered alone across the room, where they stood,
one at each end, with outstretched arms to receive her; and when her
little voice was heard crying for the first time "Father," "Mother,"
they shouted for joy.
On the opposite side of the street lived an artist, who took great
pleasure in this little family, and painted a picture in which he
introduced the children, not intending it for sale, but as a gift to
their parents, in token of the esteem he felt for them. A very pretty
picture it was--little Nanny, lightly draped, showing her fat dimpled
shoulders and bare feet, her golden hair floating in the wind, was in a
meadow chasing a butterfly; while her brothers stood by, as guardian
angels, with hands extended ready to catch her if she stumbled. It
might have fetched a high price, but the man was not in needy
circumstances, and would not sell it.
When Nanny was about four years old it happened that the cholera--that
fearful scourge which has from time to time been so fatal in many
parts--broke out in this town, and both father and mother were smitten
and lay ill with it at the same time. I need not say how, in the midst
of pain and weakness, many an anxious thought was turned to the future
of their little ones; but, as faith had been strong in the time of
health and prosperity, it did not fail them in their hour of need, and
they trusted simply to the promise, "Leave thy fatherless children; I
will preserve them alive."
In a very short time the children were left; orphans, and (the eldest
not being more than eight years old) quite unable to do anything for
their own support. What was to be done? The neighbours were kind and
good to them, but, having families of their own, had enough to do
without adding to their cares. It was at length arranged that a letter
should be written to an uncle who lived in Vienna, and was doing well as
manager of a small theatrical company in that town. Not a very good
school, you will say, for these children who had been trained so
carefully.
No sooner did the man receive the sad news than he set off, arriving
just after the funeral was over. He lost no time in selling his
brother's small possessions, and, pocketing the money, started for his
home, taking the little ones with him. I should say that, at the
special request of their friend the artist, the picture was reserved and
taken with them. This, then, together with the large Bible from which
their father used to read to them morning and evening, and the box
containing their clothes, was all that they could call their own.
Poor children! they had certainly found a home, but what a contrast to
that to which they had been accustomed! Sorely did they miss the
tender, watchful love which had surrounded them all their lives, and the
peace and calm which dwelt in that household. Their uncle was a hard,
money-loving man, and determined to make the best for himself out of
this seeming act of kindness. Therefore, instead of giving them a good
education and fitting them to make their way in the world respectably,
he merely taught them what would be profitable to himself in his own
line, viz, dancing and gymnastics. Their whole time was spent in
practising to appear in public on the stage, and many a weary hour did
they pass, being punished if they dared to complain, and never by any
chance being encouraged by a word of approval.
Such a life as this soon began to tell upon little Nanny, who had never
been a strong child; but not the most earnest entreaties from her
brothers would induce the hard-hearted man to allow her to exert herself
less. It was a weary life for them all, and many a time when wreaths
and bouquets were showered upon them by the applauding audience would
they retire and burst into tears for very fatigue and sorrow.
Toni and Hans at last became seriously alarmed about their little
sister. She got gradually paler and thinner, and when, one day, after
dancing for some time, with flushed cheek and shortened breath, she fell
to the ground in a faint, they could endure it no longer, but ran to
their uncle, beseeching him to have pity on her.
I am sorry to tell you, the poor boys were only answered by blows, and
making nothing of their grief, he walked carelessly away, saying she
would be better after her dinner. This was too much for Hans; he jumped
up from the floor where he had been sitting, and stamping his foot, his
face glowing with anger, cried out, "I shall not allow her to dance any
more!" to which he, of course, received only a scornful laugh in reply.
Nanny had by this time revived, and was sitting between her brothers
wiping away her tears.
"Oh! if father and mother knew of this," said Hans, "I think it would
make them weep even in heaven; but perhaps then they would send an angel
to help us."
"We do not know whether they can see us or not," answered Toni; "but we
are sure the good God can. I have been asking Him to put into our minds
what we shall do for Nanny. Sometimes I am afraid she will leave us
like father and mother did. And do you know I feel as solemn as little
Samuel must have done when God called him, for a thought has come into
my mind which I am sure must have been put there by our Father in
heaven."
"And what is it?" asked Hans, in a whisper, folding his little hands, as
if inspired by the devotion of his brother.
"Why, that we must save our sister, and not let her die," answered Toni.
"That would be glorious; but how shall we manage it?"
"We must run away from this place with her and take her to our
grandfather, in the mountains."
"But that is so far away, and we have no money: and then, how should we
know the way?" asked Hans anxiously.
"The little birds fly away in the winter to Africa--God shows them the
way, and gives them strength and food; and shall not we trust Him to
help us his children?"
It was all clear to Hans now, and the bold resolve was made.
From that time the two boys thought of little else than the intended
escape. The sight of their little darling pining away before their eyes
nerved them to plan and to work. Preparations were carried on in
secret: no one having any idea of what was going on. A little
playfellow lived close by whose father was a carpenter, and being often
in the man's workshop, he came to have a liking for the orphans; and
many a spare piece of wood he gave them to play with, which, by watching
him at work, they learned in their rude way to fashion into shape. They
now began to put the small knowledge they had thus acquired to some
account; and after many attempts and failures, at last succeeded in
making a rough sort of little cart. The cover of a box with a rail
round it formed the seat, the pole was a cast-off measuring-rule which
had been thrown away as useless; but when they came to the wheels, they
had need of all the patience they possessed; however, perseverance in
due time was rewarded, when, after devoting every spare moment they
could secure, the little carriage which was to effect their escape was
finished. How happy they felt when the finishing touch was put, when it
was drawn away to a corner of the yard behind the workshop, and hidden
among a heap of sawdust and shavings! A heavy burden seemed lifted off
their hearts: they dreamt not of any future difficulties, and only
looked forward with eagerness to the moment when they should be free,
and when the roses would come back again to their little sister's
cheeks.
All was now in readiness: that very evening they were to start on their
pilgrimage, leaving the shelter of their uncle's house, together with
his tyranny, behind them. It was time for Nanny to be let into the
secret; and, having done this, the two boys, kneeling down, drew her
between them and prayed, "O Lord, send a good angel to help us, and keep
uncle from waking when we go away."
They had fixed on an evening when they had not to appear in public. All
had retired to rest early, and they waited only till they thought it
would be safe. The boys then arose, and, dressing themselves quickly,
made up a small bundle of clothes, and having lifted the precious
picture from the wall, and their father's Bible from the box, they
proceeded to summon Nanny. This was of all the most anxious part, for
she had from the first slept in her aunt's room. Her little ears,
however, were on the alert, and a gentle tap as signal made her leap
lightly out of bed, and with shoes in hand and her clothes on her arm,
she was in a moment at the door. It was bolted: and how could she reach
it? Standing on tiptoe did not help her. So, quickened by fear, no
time was lost in getting a chair and mounting on it, the bolt was
quickly drawn, and in a moment's time the child was at her brothers'
side, pale and trembling. And now came a new dilemma, the house door
was locked, and the key in their uncle's room. Here, however, their
gymnastic training stood them in good stead, and their bedroom window
being not far from the ground, they jumped out of it, and alighted
safely on the pavement.
The little cart was next brought from its place of concealment. Nanny,
wrapped in her cloak, took her seat in it, and the book and picture
being laid at her feet, and the bundle serving as a cushion at her back,
the children set out on their unknown way. It was quite dark. They had
not gone very far when they encountered the watchman with his horn and
lantern. Throwing the light full on the strange group, he cried--
"Halt! who goes there?"
"Good friends," promptly answered the elder of the boys; when the man,
with a kindly smile, let them pass without further inquiry.