Eric knew not how long he slept, but as in a dream he heard a sweet
voice singing these words:――
“Rest thee, boy, rest thee, boy, lonely and weary,
Thy little heart breaking from losing the way;
Thy father has not left thee friendless though dreary,
When learning through suffering to fear and obey,”
Eric opened his eyes, but moved not a limb, as if under some strange
fascination. It was early morning. High overhead a lark was also
“singing like an angel in the clouds.” The mysterious voice went on in
the same beautiful and soothing strain,――
“Oh, sweet is the lark as she sings o’er her nest,
And warbles unseen in the clear morning light;
But sweeter by far is the song in the breast
When in life’s early morning we do what is right!”
Eric could neither move nor speak; but in his heart he confessed with
sorrow that he had done what was wrong. And again the voice sang,――
“Now, darling, awaken! Thou art not forsaken!
The old night is past and a new day begun.
Let thy journey with love to thy father be taken,
And at evening thy father will welcome thee home.”
“I shall arise and go to my father!” said Eric, springing to his feet.
He saw beside him a beautiful lady, who looked like a picture in his
father’s room of his dead mother, or like one of those angels from
heaven about whom he had often read.
And the lady said, “Fear not! I know you, Eric, and how it came to
pass that you are here. Your father sent you for a wise and good
purpose through the forest, and gave you hold of a gold thread to
guide you, and told you never to let it go; but instead of doing your
duty, and keeping hold of the thread, you let it go to chase
butterflies and gather wild berries and to amuse yourself. This you
did more than once. You neglected your father’s counsels and warnings,
and so you lost your thread, and then you lost your way. What dangers
and troubles have you thus got into through disobedience to your
father’s commands, and want of confidence in his love and wisdom! But
if you had only trusted your father’s directions, the gold thread
would have brought you to his beautiful castle, where there is to be a
happy meeting of your friends, with all your brothers and sisters.”
Poor little Eric began to weep! “Listen to me, child,” said the lady
kindly, “for _you cannot have peace but by being good_. Do you know,
all your brothers and sisters made this very journey by help of the
gold thread, and they are at home with great joy.”
“Oh, save me, save me!” cried Eric, and caught the lady’s hand.
“Yes, I shall save you,” said she, “if you will learn obedience. I
know and love you, dear boy. I know and love your father, and have
been sent by him to deliver you. I heard what you said, and know all
you did, last night, and I was very glad that you proved your love to
your father, and your love of truth, and your love of others, and this
makes me hope all good of you for the future. Come now with me.”
And so the beautiful woman took him by the hand. The storm had passed
away, and the sun was shining on the green leaves of the trees, and
every drop of dew sparkled like a diamond. The birds were all warbling
their morning hymns, and feeding their young ones in their nests. The
streams were also dancing down the rocks and through the glens. “The
mountains broke forth into singing, and all the trees clapped their
hands with joy.” Everything thus seemed so happy to Eric, for he
himself was happy at the thought of doing what was right, and of going
home. The lady led him to a sunny glade in the wood, covered with wild
flowers, from which the bees were busy gathering their honey, and she
said, “Now, child, are you willing to do your father’s will?”
“Oh yes!”
“Will you do it, whatever dangers may await you?”
“Yes!”
“Well, then, I must tell you that your father has given me the gold
thread you lost; and he bids me remind you that if you keep hold of
it, and follow it wherever it leads, you are sure to come to him at
sunset; but if you let it go, you may wander on in this dark forest
till you die, or are again taken prisoner by robbers.”
“Oh, bless you,” said Eric, “for such good news! I am resolved to do
my duty, come what may.”
“May you be helped to do it!” said the lady. She then gave him a cake,
to support him in his journey. “And now, child,” she added, “one
advice more I will give you, and it was given you by your father,
though you forgot it; it is this――if ever you feel the thread slipping
from your hands, or are yourself tempted to let it go, pray
immediately, and you will get wisdom and strength to find it, to lay
hold of it, and follow it. Before we part, kneel down and ask
assistance to be good and obedient, brave and patient, until you meet
your father.”
The little boy knelt down and repeated the Lord’s Prayer; and as he
said, “Thy will be done on earth, as it is done in heaven,” he felt
calm and happy as he used to do when he knelt at his mother’s knee,
and he thought her hand was on his head, and that she kissed his cheek
and blessed him. When he lifted up his head there was no one there but
himself; but he saw an old gray cross, and a GOLD THREAD was tied to
it, and passed away, away, shining through the woods.
With a firm hold of his gold thread, the boy began his journey home.
He passed along pathways on which the brown leaves of last year’s
growing were thickly strewn, and from among which flowers of every
colour were springing. He crossed little brooks that ran like silver
threads and tinkled like silver bells. He went under trees with huge
trunks, and huge branches that swept down to the ground and waved far
up in the blue sky. The birds hopped about him, and looked down upon
him from among the green leaves, and they sang him songs, and some of
them seemed to speak to him. He thought one large bird like a crow
cried, “Good boy, good boy!” and another whistled, “Cheer up, cheer
up!” and so he went merrily on, and very often he gave the robins and
blackbirds that came near him bits of his cake.
After a while, he came to a green spot in the middle of the wood,
without trees, and a footpath went direct across it, to the place
where the gold thread was leading him, and there he saw a sight that
made him wonder and pause. It was a bird about the size of a pigeon,
with feathers like gold and a crown like silver, and it was slowly
walking not far from him, and he saw gold eggs glittering in a nest
among the grass a few yards off. Now he thought it would be such a
nice thing to bring home a nest with gold eggs! The bird did not seem
afraid of him, but stopped and looked at him with a calm blue eye, as
if she said, “Surely you would not rob me?” He could not, however,
reach the nest with his hand, and though he pulled and pulled the
thread, it would not yield one inch, but seemed as stiff as a wire.
“I see the thread quite plain,” said the boy to himself, “the very
place where it enters the dark wood on the other side. I will just
jump to the nest, and in a moment I shall have the eggs in my pocket,
and then spring back and catch the thread again. I cannot lose it
here, with the sun shining; and, besides, I see it a long way before
me.” So he took one step to seize the eggs; but he was in such haste
that he fell and crushed the nest, breaking the eggs to pieces, and
the little bird screamed and flew away; and then all at once the birds
in the trees began to fly about, and a large owl flew out of a dark
glade, and cried, “Whoo――whoo――whoo-oo-oo!” and a cloud came over the
sun!
Eric’s heart beat quick, and he made a grasp at his gold thread, but
it was not there! Another, and another grasp, but it was not there!
and soon he saw it waving far above his head, like a gossamer thread
in the breeze. You would have pitied him, while you could not have
helped being angry with him for having been so silly and disobedient
when thus tried, if you had only seen his pale face, as he looked
above him for his thread, and about him for the road, but could see
neither! And he became so confused with his fall, that he did not know
which side of the open glade he had entered, nor to which point he was
travelling. But at last he thought he heard a bird chirping,
“Seek――seek――seek!” and another repeating, “Try again――try
again――try――try!” and then he remembered what the lady had said to
him, and he fell on his knees and told all his grief, and cried, “Oh,
give me back my thread! and help me never, never, to let it go again!”
As he lifted up his eyes, he saw the thread come slowly, slowly down;
and when it came near, he sprang to it and caught it, and he did not
know whether to laugh, or cry, or sing, he was so thankful and happy!
“Ah!” said he, “I hope I shall never forget this fall!” That part of
the Lord’s Prayer came into his mind which says, “Lead us not into
temptation, but deliver us from evil.”
“Who would have thought,” said he to himself, “that I was in any
danger in such a beautiful, green, sunny place as this!”
Then on he went, and a large crow on a tree was hoarsely croaking,
“Beware, beware!”
“Thank you, Mr. Crow,” said the boy, “I shall;” and he threw him a bit
of bread for his good advice, and ran on gaily to make up for lost
time.
But now the thread led him through the strangest places. One was a
very dark deep ravine, with a stream that roared and rushed far down,
and overhead the rocks seemed to meet, and thick bushes concealed the
light, and nothing could Eric see but the gold thread, that looked
like a thread of fire, though even that grew dim sometimes, until he
could only feel it in his hand. And whither he was going he knew not.
At times he seemed to be on the edge of a precipice, until he almost
thought the next step _must_ lead him over and plunge him down; but
just when he came to the very edge, the thread would lead him quite
safely along it. Then appeared a rock which looked like a wall, and he
would say to himself, “Well, I must be stopped here! I shall never be
able to climb up!” But just as he touched it, he would find steps cut
in it, and up, up, the thread would lead him to the top! Then it would
bring him down, down, until he once stood beside a raging stream, and
the water foamed and dashed. “And now,” he would think, “I must be
drowned; but never mind, I will not let my thread go.” But so it was,
that when he came so near the stream as to feel the spray upon his
cheek, and thought he must leap in if he followed his thread, what
would he see but a little bridge that passed from bank to bank, and by
which he crossed in perfect safety; until he began to lose fear, and
to believe more and more that he would always be in the right road, as
long as he did not trust mere appearances, but kept hold of his
thread!
At last Eric got very tired and hungry, for his cake was nearly done,
and he had started early, and it was now well on in the day. But what
was very strange, the thread supported him more than a staff could
have done, and seemed to lift him up from the ground and make him go
lightly along.