WALTER'S FRIEND.
"Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods?
Draw near them, then, in being merciful!"
The children stood before a very handsome house, and played many of
their best pieces; yet no window was opened, no friendly face looked
out, no kind hands threw gentle gifts to the little musicians. The
children and people who were passing by would indeed stop and look at
them for a moment; but as soon as Walter came near them with his hat
for a collection, they would suddenly turn upon their heels and go
away. Minnie and Walter both looked sad, for it was almost noon, and
their pockets were yet empty; they were very hungry, and unless they
should chance to meet with some wonderful piece of good luck, they had
everything to fear from the anger of Father Pommer on their return in
the evening.
With redoubled eagerness and force the children were playing their last
new Polka. Walter's eyes were steadily fixed upon a window, from which
he thought he could discern some one watching them, seated behind a
curtain, and he hoped to receive something from the half-hidden form.
But he felt his arm suddenly seized: he was startled, and looked round
to ascertain what it could be; and in the benevolent face that was
gazing upon him he instantly recognized, to his unutterable delight,
the little man whose name he had forgotten, and whom he had so longed
to see.
"God be thanked that I have found you! that you are really here! Now,
indeed, everything must go right!" he cried, almost beside himself with
joy, as he extended his hand to the stranger.
"If you really had such a strong desire to see me, why did you not come
to my house? for I gave you my name, and you might easily have found
me," said the clock-maker.
"You did, indeed, but I forgot it! I could not recollect it: that was
my bad luck!" said the poor child eagerly.
"Did you really forget my name? Did you try hard to recollect it?"
asked the little man, doubtingly. "Come, children, they do not seem
inclined to give you anything here. Come, I will walk with you a little
way."
Minnie took her harp, looking very much astonished, and gazing
distrustfully at the watch-maker, who did not seem to concern himself
at all about the maiden. He asked Walter to tell honestly and truly all
that had happened to him since their parting, and what he had done to
support himself.
The boy related concisely all that had occurred. He told him that,
having no passport, he was very much afraid of the police, and of being
put into prison; but that the stout man had taken him as his son, and
that he played about in all the streets with Minnie, who accompanied
his violin with the harp, in order to get as much money as they could.
"Then you have found a father, and require no other?" said the
clock-maker. "Now everything goes on happily with you: this wild kind
of life suits you, and you desire nothing better?"
Tears filled the large, dark eyes of the poor orphan; he looked sadly
at the stranger, and shook his head.
"You are not happy?" answered the stranger; "if you will try to
accustom yourself to a regular and industrious life, and if you will
promise to be a good, truthful boy, you may come with me. I will
take you into my own house, and take care of you as long as you show
yourself worthy of my protection."
Walter remained motionless for a moment, as if turning into stone; then
his eyes sparkled with delight, and with a cry of joy he threw his
arms round the neck of the clock-maker, who tried to calm his stormy
transport, and said to him: "Gently! gently, my boy! the people in the
street are stopping to look and laugh at us as they go by. Once inside
of my house, we can talk about it, and rejoice. Come! come quickly with
me home!"
But Minnie now took Walter's hand, and said defiantly: "I will not
let Walter go with you; he must stay with me, because I cannot play
or earn anything without him. My father stands at the corner of the
next street; I will go and bring him here, for I am sure he will never
consent to Walter's leaving us."
Walter clung, trembling all over with fear, to his protector, who said
sternly to the girl, while he filled her hand with small coins: "Here,
child! here is more money than you and Walter would have earned all day
to-day and all day to-morrow! Your father has no right to this boy;
tell him he must take care to do nothing more against the laws, or I
will expose him to the police. You had better join him now; and you,
Walter, follow me!"
The boy's heart throbbed with joy when, having turned the corner of the
street, he could see nothing more of the Pommer family, and he found
himself quite alone with his benefactor. He kissed his hand again, and
bounded joyfully on beside him. The little clock-maker put all kind
of questions to him, which the boy readily and candidly answered.
The face of the little man grew more and more friendly and cheerful.
They soon arrived at the house. They opened a handsomely ornamented
iron gate, and stepped into a pretty garden. The paths were strewed
with gravel, the beds were well laid out, and bordered with boxwood.
Lilacs, pinks, roses, lilies, and many other beautiful flowers, smiled
in luxuriant and variegated bloom around. In the midst of this neat
garden stood a small dwelling-house, whose white walls were almost
hidden by the clinging vines, which seemed to love to twine about them.
In front of the house there was a small place shaped like a semicircle,
strewed nicely over with sand almost as white and shining as silver,
which was partly shaded by a trellised woodbine, and partly by the low
and spreading branches of a large apple-tree. A small table and several
seats stood in this place, and a very pretty spinning-wheel, pushed
a little to one side, betrayed that the spinner had just left the
spot. Mr. Burg called softly, "Christina!" and the called one made her
appearance immediately on the threshold of the house. Christina was
the twin-sister of the clock-maker Burg. Like him, she was very short,
but she was well formed. She wore a dark-colored dress, and a cap and
neck-handkerchief of dazzling whiteness, while the large bunch of keys
which were fastened to her side spoke of household cares and household
thrift.
"Here, Christina!" said Burg, in a tone which betrayed suppressed
emotion, "here is Walter, of whom I have already spoken to you. He will
be our son, and make us happy. Sweetest sister, I think I have brought
you a treasure to be valued, as a present from the fair!"
Christina took the boy, who was almost as tall as herself, in her arms,
and pressed him to her heart; then she laid her hand upon his brow, and
said, with a tender yet solemn voice: "God bless thy entrance into this
house, my dear child! May his Holy Spirit descend upon thee, so that
thou mayest become a pious Christian and a useful man! May his grace be
with thee evermore! Amen!"
The tears rushed to Walter's eyes,--he did not himself know why, for
the soft, friendly face of Christina inspired no sadness or timidity,
but the most heartfelt confidence.
"I have found the boy in the street, my sweet sister, and I have no
doubt that he is really suffering with hunger. I hope your pantry is
full enough to satisfy the appetite of the starving child."
"Do not be afraid of that," said Christina, laughing. "As I have
expected the arrival of our son every hour during the last three days,
I have provided for all his wants. Come! come in, brother, and see!"
Everything was clean and neat in the little house; everything seemed
to correspond with the character of the brother and sister. That
especially pleased Walter. His new parents took him by the hand, and
led him about the house, showing him the cheerful sitting-room with
its vine-curtained windows. At one of these windows stood a table,
with very fine tools upon it, and several watches hanging near it,
suspended to the wall; at the other, the sewing-table of Christina
was placed, her comfortable cushioned chair, and her footstool. The
brother and sister worked together in the same room, and it was only
over some very delicate piece of mechanism that the clock-maker shut
himself up in the apartment at the other side of the house. A savory
smell of a good dinner proceeded from the clean kitchen, and it was
very agreeable to poor, hungry Walter. They led him about into all
the rooms and chambers; at last they took him up a story higher, into
a lovely little, friendly room. A neat bed, covered with a white
quilt, stood near the wall; chairs, tables, a bureau and a wardrobe, a
dressing-glass and a handsome timepiece, were all in their appropriate
places, and the snowy window-curtains gave the room a most comfortable
appearance.
"How do you like this chamber?" said Christina, friendlily, to Walter.
"O, it is delightful! Even the Mayor himself in Geremberg has not a
single room as beautiful as this one is."
"This is your own little room, my boy," said Christina. "You are to
sleep in this quiet bed, and if you never forget to say your evening
prayers devoutly, God's winged angels will watch over your sleep."
"Me? Am I really to sleep in this soft, white, beautiful bed?" said the
delighted boy to his benefactress. "Ah, I have never seen one half so
beautiful! I have always slept upon straw, or upon the bare ground. O
dear sir! O dear, kind lady! how very good you are to poor, forsaken
Walter!"
He threw his arms around them both, and then sprang delightedly
about, gazing on everything around him with rapturous and grateful
astonishment.
"As several days have passed since we first expected you," said
Christina, "I have provided clean linen and new clothes for you,
which I think will fit you. You will find everything ready for you in
this wardrobe. You must wash yourself very clean, comb your fine hair
nicely, put on your new clothes, and always try to keep yourself very
neat. We should suffer no stain upon us,--neither upon our souls nor
our clothing. Make haste, my son, and get ready. In the mean time, I
will set the table, and flavor the soup."
With a friendly greeting, Christina left them, while Burg stayed to
help the boy to dress. When Walter was well washed, combed, and
dressed in his new clothes, his appearance was strikingly handsome.
The clock-maker looked at him with undisguised pleasure, while the boy
exclaimed, in grateful rapture,--
"My dear, dear sir, how am I to thank you? how am I ever to compensate
you for all this?"
"I shall be fully compensated, if you will only be good and obedient,"
answered Burg. "But before all things else, thank God, my son! He has
led you, in the most wonderful manner, through much tribulation, to us.
It was certainly his kind hand which led me to you, just when I had
determined to seek out, and adopt as my own, some forsaken orphan. Do
you not acknowledge that you have a Father in heaven, who, even when he
appeared to have forsaken you, yet wonderfully led you upon the right
way?"
Walter was silent, and seemed lost in thought. "Yes," he at last
replied, "yes, I now see that he has graciously cared for me. Last
night, I prayed to him with all my heart that he would let things go
well with me, if only for once; and see! already to-day he has heard
and fulfilled my prayer! I believe that, if I had learned to pray to
him sooner, he would never have let it gone so badly with me."
"Never forget it, then, in the future, my son," said Burg. "Trust
always in the good Father above, with a childlike and firm faith; and
even if you should be unfortunate in this life, never cease to rely
upon the only firm support,--the Father above."
"Yes, yes, dear sir! I will certainly trust him," said the boy.
"Call me no longer 'Dear sir,' but 'Dear father'; and call my sister,
'Mother.' With God's help, we will try to be kind and conscientious
parents to you; and I believe you will be a pious and true son," said
Burg, as he kindly pressed the hands of the orphan.
Christina's clear voice now called them to dinner. As they entered the
dining-room, her eyes fell upon Walter. She looked astonished, and
yet full of contentment, for his beauty was very striking in the neat
clothes which her care had provided for him.
Walter was, as if through magic, suddenly transported into a life
differing in all things from the life of his earlier days. He had been
abused and forsaken,--driven from the only home he had ever known;
he had struggled with cold and want, and lived in poverty, hunger,
and dirt. He now lived in the bosom of a tranquil, industrious, and
pious family. The brother and sister, secluded from the noisy world,
surrounded by their beautiful garden, and in the possession of a
fortune more than adequate to their wants, led a pious and charitable
life. Christina's character was childlike and simple. She had never
known nor ever desired any other happiness than to serve God and to
love her twin-brother. With a far keener intellect, the brother's
character, in its simplicity and piety, resembled that of the sister.
He was an excellent clock-maker, but he gave his clocks into other
hands to be sold, as he knew nothing of trading, and hated to be
annoyed with it. He said it disturbed the quiet of his soul, and wasted
his valuable time. His favorite employment was to imagine ingenious
and artistic fancy works, and set them in motion by clock-work. He
never sold any of these. He kept them in his parlor, and on festival
occasions he would exhibit them to his own and his sister's friends. He
had made, among other things, a very complete paper-mill, and a most
beautiful church. In the paper-mill, the mill-clappers rattled up and
down, the wheels ran merrily round, the mechanism worked well, and all
the preparations for making paper were really there; everywhere was
seen the appropriate labor, and at last tiny sheets of real paper were
made, which the mechanist would kindly distribute among his own and his
sister's friends, as remembrancers of them and of his novel invention.
The church was lighted up, the many-colored windows glittered, the
bells rang, the organ played, and people were seen going in at the
various doors, and walking round in the beautiful building. These
pieces of artistic mechanism were his delight; he often passed whole
nights without sleep in inventing and executing things still more
curious and ingenious. The pastor of the parish, and his wife, were his
most intimate friends; indeed, it was only upon rare occasions that
any other guests were to be met in his house.
The brother and sister had lived together nearly half a century in
unbroken peace, in heartfelt unity and love, when the melancholy
thought presented itself to them, that after their death there would be
no one to inherit their highly improved property, no one to take care
of and cherish the works of mechanism invented by the clock-maker, no
one to whom Christina could confide her pretty house, and carefully and
tastefully cultivated garden. They consulted seriously together what
would be best to do. We will leave it for the benefit of the poor, said
they with one voice; but they sighed, and looked sadly around them.
"Our beloved house and garden must in that case be sold," sighed
Christina. "God only knows in what hands it will fall, and how it will
be taken care of! All that I have planted and nurtured with so much
love will be rooted up, or trampled under foot!"
"And all my beautiful works of art will be sold," said the brother, in
a still more melancholy tone. "If an unskilful hand touches them, if a
single wheel gets out of order, they are ruined for ever!"
"It is very sad, indeed!" said they both.
"Yes, Christina, it is truly melancholy," again commenced the
clock-maker, after a long pause; "but it is very sinful to attach
ourselves so firmly to such fleeting things. During the whole course of
his life, man is constantly forced to struggle with himself that he may
not break the holy commandment: 'Thou shalt have no other gods before
me.' Our clinging so firmly to these passing things of earth is nothing
but a species of idolatry. Therefore, my dearest sister, we will try to
free ourselves from the thraldom of this sin; we will simply leave our
property to the poor, and give ourselves no trouble about what shall
become of it after we are dead and gone!"
Christina secretly wiped the tears from her streaming eyes, answered
nothing, but spun industriously on. After a considerable time had
elapsed, she said, in a trembling tone: "Listen to me, my dear brother!
I would like to make a proposition to you, which I have long cherished
in silence. What do you think of our taking some poor, forsaken
orphan child into the house, bringing it up to truth and industry,
and adopting it as our own son or daughter? We might then divide our
property between it and other poor people. In this way we might fulfil
our own wishes without being guilty of the sin of idolatry. Indeed, who
knows but that, through our careful instruction and education, we might
aid in saving the soul of some unfortunate orphan?"
The brother gazed upon her with approving and deep tenderness. "My
dear Christina," he said, "have you considered fully how much trouble,
anxiety, and care the reception of such a charge would entail upon you?"
"O, no thought of that kind should ever prevent me," she answered. "I
love children dearly, and I have long wished to have the charge of
one. I will make but little account of care, anxiety, and trouble for
myself, if with the help of the Lord we can only succeed in bringing a
forsaken child up to be a good Christian. Then it would doubtless love
us as if it were really our own. The human heart constantly longs for
love; and, as we grow older, what could be a greater source of pure
pleasure for us, than to have a young, innocent, loving, childlike
creature constantly with us?"
The brother sprang to his feet, seized Christina in his arms, kissed
her fondly, and said: "Sister, your words flow from my own heart! I
have long cherished the same wish, but could not venture to ask you to
assume this additional burden. But now all things seem to have arranged
themselves in the happiest manner; and with God's help we will soon
find the child we seek!"
The good people made a happy choice in selecting Walter; or rather God
had graciously provided for the fulfilment of their wishes, and led to
them the forsaken boy. They brought him up with prudence and with love.
His many and excellent faculties were developed in the highest degree
through the best of teachers. The good pastor was his instructor in all
that belonged to religion, while the truly Christian life of the pious
brother and sister exerted a most beneficial influence upon the heart
of the poor boy, and all the bad habits which he had acquired from the
vicious examples which had been constantly before his eyes, from the
first moment of the precocious awakening of his intelligence until his
fortunate reception into the house of his present protectors, rapidly
and for ever vanished. His days always began and ended with prayer, and
the consciousness of the perpetual presence of the Almighty, in the
fulness of his strange love and enduring mercy, was with him in the
hours of labor and the moments of relaxation.
Burg was anxious that Walter should adopt his own profession, so that
when he became the inheritor of his property he might also inherit
his artistic skill. But Walter evinced no disposition to embrace it.
He was astonished at the works of art, clapped his hands joyfully at
the appearance of life in the movements of the diminutive figures,
and wished he had the skill to make them; but his desire rapidly
vanished when he saw his adopted father at work. His attention was
only fastened upon such objects, by their entire novelty, for a few
moments; then he would bound away to bring his beloved violin, and
play hour after hour upon it with real joy of heart. The clock-maker
soon knew what were Walter's peculiar talents, and, very far from
wishing to contend with the gifts of nature, at once relinquished his
own cherished wish. He shall have every opportunity to cultivate his
genius, he said to himself; I will give him every advantage. He took
his adopted son by the hand, and led him to the town, where he placed
him with a master of high distinction. The master tested the talents
of the boy for music, and found them so quick and promising that he
readily undertook their cultivation.
A new life dawned for Walter; he lived in and for music; for he now
heard it in a perfection of which he had never dreamed in his childish
years. He pursued his studies with assiduity and delight, and soon
surpassed all his associates. His master was astonished at the rapidity
of his progress, and every day increased his attachment to the talented
boy. After a comparatively short time he found him sufficiently
advanced to introduce him into the study of harmony, and thus to open a
way for him into the very depths of the art he loved. The glowing and
creative imagination of the boy now found the proper element in which
to work, while laws and rules based on nature opened and defined his
paths through the boundless regions of the tone world.
Years sped on. The days which he passed in the peaceful home of his
kind protectors, sheltered and cherished by their constant love
and care, warmed and lighted by the glittering rays of the science
he loved, were as happy as those of his earlier childhood had been
miserable. In later years he often spoke, with rapturous gratitude, of
the untroubled bliss of the studious, youthful, innocent days of his
first introduction into the enchanted realm of Art.