THE HAPPY LAND.
"Heaven lies about us in our infancy."
WORDSWORTH.
"To be good is to be happy; angels
Are happier than men because they're better."
ROWE.
"Now, please, Mrs. Joe, will you show Joan and me the nearest way to the
place where you found us?" asked Darby in all good faith when they had
finished their breakfast. It had been a most unusual one for them, and
not much of a treat: the bread was dry, the bacon strong smelling, the
bitter coffee guiltless of either cream or milk, and poor Joan made many
a wry face in her efforts to get it down.
"Time enough, time enough," answered Mrs. Joe cheerily, yet with a
shamefaced look. "What's yer hurry? Are you so keen to leave us, eh?"
she asked, fixing her bold, smiling eyes on the earnest countenance of
the little lad.
"No--that is--ah--not 'zactly," stammered Darby, feeling himself in a
fix between truth and politeness. "We didn't come on a visit, you know;
we came only for the night. And you promised to let us go this morning
after breakfast, and to show us the way."
Molly only laughed, looking this way and that; but Joe began roughly,--
"Look ee here now, young Hop-o'-my-thumb, we've had enough o' this
humbug. Ye're both here, an' here ye're goin' to stay till I've done wi'
ye. Do you heed?" he shouted, gripping Darby by the shoulder and giving
him a hearty shake, while the dwarf's sunken eyes flashed with an angry
gleam.
Joan began to whimper softly into the folds of her tartan shawl, but
Darby looked from the black-browed woman to the coarse, red-haired man
with stern, reproachful eyes.
"You promised--_she_ promised," he said bravely, although his lips were
quivering piteously, and all the healthy colour had fled from his
cheeks, leaving them pale as the petals of a faded white rose.
Moll laughed again more loudly than before. Did the little softy really
believe that big folks meant everything they said? And looking into her
broadly-smiling face and unscrupulous eyes, Darby Dene had his first
lesson in the meaning of deceit. He there and then began to realize that
there are people in the world to whom falsehood comes easy, who think
little or nothing of a broken vow.
"Why do you wish us to stay with you?" he asked, turning to Joe as the
more hopeful of the two, because Joe said pretty much what he meant, and
Moll did not. "You don't love us, and of course you can't expect that we
can be very fond of you after--after--well, we know you for only such a
little while. Do please let us go," urged the child in pleading tones;
and now the big tears rolled down his cheeks and splashed in heavy
drops, like a summer shower, over the breast of his shabby velvet
blouse, while Joan sat and stared from Moll to Joe in wide-eyed silent
terror.
"Not likely!" replied Mr. Harris, with an ugly laugh. "You're goin' to
begin yer eddication, my son, an' little missy here too. So now shut up,
an' let's have no more o' yer blubb'rin'. Ye're goin' to do as I bid ye,
or if ye don't I'll manage to learn ye, I'm thinkin'. Eh?" he cried,
playfully pinching Joan's small pink ear until she screamed with pain,
then glancing from face to face of the party gathered around the fagot
fire, fingering idly at the same time the heavy whip in his belt with
which he kept Bruno to his tasks. "An' min', if ye try to slope--to run
away--well, it'll be all the worse for ye an' for anybody as helps ye,"
he added savagely, with a scowl in the direction of the dwarf, who sat a
little apart, his head leaning upon his hands, his barely-tasted
breakfast on the ground beside him.
Joe then lighted his pipe, took a gun and some rabbit-snares from the
caravan, and shouting to Tonio to look sharp, he sauntered off in the
direction of the fir plantation, with the black boy following dutifully
at his heels.
Moll shortly after retired within the caravan, where they could hear her
singing snatches of a rollicking street song as if for her own
diversion; then--with only the dwarf, the bear, and the monkey to
witness their distress--Darby and Joan threw themselves on the grass,
where, wrapped in each other's arms, they gave free vent to their
disappointment and dismay.
Bruno rolled on the ground, grunted, sat up and blinked at the children
out of his funny little slits of eyes, but he said nothing. Puck skipped
hither and thither, chattering and jabbering as if begging them to
forget their grief and crack some nuts for him instead. The dwarf sat
motionless, his head still sunk upon his hands, as if he had forgotten
their very presence, yet all the time he was watching them through his
fingers. And as soon as their sobs had subsided into long-drawn, gasping
sighs, such as the west wind makes in a wide chimney, he left his place,
and sitting down between them, put a long arm around the shoulders of
each, and drew them close beside him.
He was only a dwarf, but in his heart there were pity and love for all
creatures helpless and weaker than himself. And because of this he was
like God--_he_, Bambo the object: mean, lowly, poor, so far as money
went, yet rich in the priceless power of loving, which is beyond the
riches of gold or lands; for is not love of God? Is not God Himself the
beginning, centre, end--nay, not _end_, because it endureth for ever--of
all real, true love? And in their desolation Darby and Joan turned to
him with a feeling of confidence and hope.
"Now, I want to hear everything," he said coaxingly; "then perhaps I
shall be able to help you. You must be quick, for Joe and Tonio won't
stay long away. There's no rabbits or birds over there, I'm sure," he
continued, nodding his great head in the direction of the plantation,
"and at any moment Moll may come and interrupt us."
Then Darby told their odd new friend everything, as he had desired the
child to do--who they were, where they lived, why they had left their
home, whither they were bound, and what had befallen them upon the
journey.
"Dear, dear!" exclaimed Bambo when the recital was ended, and Darby
paused to draw a long breath. "Firgrove! Turner of Firgrove! Old Squire
Turner folks about Firdale used to call him. Why, my grandfather, Moses
Green, was gardener there once upon a time."
"And he's there yet!" declared Darby, looking highly delighted at the
discovery. "Green my aunts call him; an old, old man with white hair and
a bended back--'all 'count o' the rheumatiz,' he says."
"Ay, ay! so grandad's still alive. Deary me! deary me! Although he
always had a sort of spite at me for being as I am," added the dwarf to
himself.
"Had you never no muver?" demanded Joan curiously; "or does
funny-lookin' peoples like you just grow the way Topsy did? Topsy never
had no muver. That was 'cause she was black, I s'pose; and Tonio won't
have none either?"
"Yes, I had a mother once, missy--a good and loving mother, and a kind
grandmother too. But they are both gone this many a year ago,
and--except grandad, who doesn't count--I have neither kith nor kin in
the world."
Bambo sighed deeply, overcome by sad memories. A tear trickled slowly
down his hollow, weather-beaten cheek, and Joan put up a smudgy, gentle,
little hand to wipe it away.
"Don't be sorry, please, dear dwarf. Joan loves you; you's so kind to
Joan," she murmured.
"Couldn't _we_ be your kith and kin?" asked Darby anxiously. "I expect
by 'kith and kin' you just mean friends. We'll be your friends if you'd
like us to. We're both very fond of you already.--Aren't we, Joan?"
"Yes, werry," Joan assented warmly, continuing to caress the dwarf's
haggard face with her soft, chubby fingers.
"Bless your dear, loving little hearts!" he ejaculated fervently,
looking from one to the other of the earnest faces raised so trustfully
to his. "Them's the sweetest words that anybody has spoken to poor Bambo
this many's the day--since my mother died. _She_ always had gentle words
and sweet looks in plenty for her misshapen boy; and granny too, bless
her! But after they went and left me the world seemed all cold and
cruel, with nothing better for the likes of me than cuffs and kicks. It
was always, 'Get out of the way, you object!' 'Oh, poor wretch! how
horrid-looking he is!' or else jeers, gibes, and laughter. And since I
became a man, _this_ kind of a man, I mean," he explained, glancing from
Joan to his stunted limbs, huge feet, and claw-like hands, "it has been
harder still--harsh words and heavy blows if I did not bring in money
enough at shows and fairs. Now, I think the Lord Jesus has seen my
loneliness, taken pity upon me, and sent two of His own to cheer me, and
brighten a bit of the wilderness for a weary pilgrim. And we'll see if
the dwarf can't do something to show his gratitude," said Bambo
resolutely, yet speaking softly as if to himself. "Firgrove! And this is
Barchester, you may say--only about three miles from it as the crow
flies--and Barchester's thirty odd miles from Firdale. It's not so far
after all, and yet it would be a goodish bit to tramp," he added
thoughtfully.
"But do you think we must go home?" queried Darby anxiously. "You see,
when Mr. Joe and Mrs. Moll overtook us we were on our way, as I told
you, to the Happy Land--we were quite close to it, in fact. Would it be
right to turn back now?" the little lad asked, fixing his clear gray
eyes seriously on the face of the dwarf. "Wouldn't we be like
somebody--I forget who--that put his hand to the plough and looked back?
Didn't Jesus say that it's wrong of any one to do that?"
"Ay, sonny, our blessed Lord does say that 'no man, having put his hand
to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God;' and, of
course, we oughtn't to do it. But we must first make sure that we've put
our hands upon the right plough, that it's pointed in the proper
direction in the very field the great Husbandman wants us to turn over.
Then we can forge right ahead, cutting the furrow clean and straight, no
matter how stony the soil, or how stiff we find the ground."
"I _think_ I understand what you mean," said Darby slowly. "You are
trying to tell me as nicely as you can that we haven't got our plough
pointed in the right direction. Is that it, Mr. Bambo?"
"That's it, deary, and the sooner you get it turned about the better,"
replied the dwarf briskly. "Your field's waiting for you at Firgrove, so
back there you and missy must go as soon as ever you can give Joe and
Moll the slip. My, won't the ladies be in a fine way! By this time, I
expect, they'll have scoured the country, and be getting the canal
dragged in search of you both."
"Isn't we goin' to the Happy Land at all, then?" asked Joan, in a tone
of glad relief.
She had been listening to the talk between Bambo and her brother in
somewhat of a puzzle as to their meaning. She had, however, gathered the
gist of their remarks, and is that not about all that is worth gathering
of most conversations?
"Wait a little," whispered Darby, gently prodding her behind the dwarf's
back. "Don't be in such a hurry. We're coming to that."
"'Cause if we isn't," continued Joan the irrepressible, "I's werry,
werry glad. I doesn't know nuffin' 'bout the Happy Land--nuffin' much,
anyway, 'cept what nurse's hymn says--but I knows Firgrove, and I love
Auntie Alice, and the pussies, and baby when he's not cryin'. They's
quite 'nuff for me--just now at least," she added as an after-thought.
"And I wants to go back to Miss Carolina and the rest of my dear, sweet
dollies. Darby wouldn't let me bring none of them wif me. Now I's
lonesome for them," she whimpered, "and I won't go to no Happy Land
wifout my fings. There!" declared the mutinous little maid, with an
emphatic waggle of her sunny head, such as she had seen Perry finish up
with when argument waxed warm between her and Molly the cook.
And just as Captain Dene had smiled sympathetically over a similar
speech of his small daughter's, so did the dwarf bend an understanding
gaze upon the winsome, wilful face, with its dewy eyes and quivering
lips. At the same time there came back to his memory a verse of a hymn
or poem, Bambo did not know which, that his mother had been very fond of
and often repeated:--
"Fair Anwoth by the Solway,
To me thou still art dear;
E'en from the verge of heaven
I drop for thee a tear.
Oh, if one soul from Anwoth
Meet me at God's right hand,
My heaven will be two heavens
In Immanuel's land."
"Should we try to go to the Happy Land some other time, do you think,
Mr. Bambo?" asked Darby anxiously, half frightened and wholly distressed
by the feeling of satisfaction which filled him at the prospect of going
back to the security of Firgrove. It seemed to him as if a return
implied an easy entrance at the wide gate upon the broad and pleasant
way, and turning their backs on the strait and narrow path, which had
proved so tortuous and stony for their tender, stumbling feet.
For an instant the dwarf hesitated, hardly knowing how to answer the
boy's question. Then he spoke.
"If I was you, I wouldn't set out again in search of the Happy Land;
because them that turns their backs upon the duties which lie close to
their hand, and their faces away from the place where God has put them,
never find a happy land, neither in this life nor in the next," said the
little man solemnly. "It mostly comes to folks, often when they little
expect; leastways it did to me," he added softly.
"I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean," said Darby, with a
puzzled pucker between his brows. "How could the Happy Land come to one?
Can you tell me that, please?"
"Well, if you're looking for a country on this side of time such as the
hymn describes, and I think that's the notion that's taken hold of your
wise wee head," said the dwarf, laying a gentle hand on the lad's dark
hair, "you'll never find it; for there's no such place as that in this
world--where the sun's always shining, and night never falls; where
folks are never tempted or wicked; where there's no need to struggle,
and nobody makes mistakes; where there's neither sickness nor sorrow,
parting nor death--nothing but music and pleasure and happiness all the
year round. Only in heaven are all these joys to be found--the heaven
that awaits us after our work is done, when the blessed Lord Himself
sends His messenger to bring us home."
"Then, dear dwarf, isn't there any Happy Land at all," asked Joan,
fixing upon her friend a pair of wondering, wide blue eyes--"no nice
place where me and Darby can always be quite happy and good, wifout
naughtiness or puttin' to bed same as at Firgrove; where I could keep my
dollies and the pussies wif me, and where there 'ud be no Aunt
Catharine?" she added emphatically. "Tell me, please, isn't there no
Happy Land like that anywhere, wifout bein' deaded and put in a big box
in the ground, the way they did wif muver?"
"Ay, missy, there's a Happy Land sure enough for us all; but each of us
must seek it within, and create it around us for ourselves," said the
dwarf dreamily. "And I think that you surely make yours about you
wherever you are," he added, as he softly smoothed the little one's
tangled yellow curls.
"Please 'splain it to me again, Mr. Bambo," begged Darby, in his sweet,
grave tones; "I'm afraid I don't quite understand your meaning yet. I'm
only seven years old, you see, and not very wise for my age, Aunt
Catharine says."
"And I'm not wise at all," laughed Bambo, shaking his great head in a
droll way, which vastly amused Miss Joan, "although I'm more than three
times your age. I fear I'm not good at explaining, either, for I'm just
a dull, unlearned fellow. I never had no schooling, not since I wore
petticoats!"--here Joan laughed merrily--"and have no knowledge except
what the Master has taught me out under the sky and the stars, from the
hedgerows, the beasts, the birds, the trees, the flowers. But I'll do my
best to tell you what I mean, and the great Teacher Himself will make
the rest clear to you if you are willing to learn of Him.
"I believe that the only truly Happy Land is just wherever the Lord
Jesus is, and He dwells with those who love and desire Him above all
others, no matter what their station or where their habitation may
be--whether in a palace or a caravan; beyond yonder storm-blown hill, or
safe in the snug shelter of Firgrove. Then if He is to walk always
beside us, we must conduct ourselves as befits them that keep good
company. We must shirk no duty, no matter how disagreeable; leave never
a task unlearned, be it ever so hard; and travelling along hand in hand
with a Friend who is always faithful, a Counsellor who is ever wise, a
Guide who never stumbles, earth will become for us a real Happy Land,
and life a foretaste of the bliss of that kingdom prepared for the
Lord's own subjects 'from the foundation of the world.'
"This is what I believe, sonny, and I think it is what the Lord Jesus
wanted the multitudes to learn and remember when He said in His sermon
on the mount, 'Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom
of heaven.'"
"Oh, thank you, thank you, dear Mr. Bambo; I know now 'zactly what you
mean. How clever you are!" exclaimed Darby, in a tone of mingled respect
and admiration, looking at his new teacher with glowing eyes, while his
cheeks were flushed from the excess of his delight. "And I am so glad we
needn't go away any more to look for the Happy Land from father, when he
comes back, and Eric, and Auntie Alice, and--and--everything," he added,
hurriedly lumping Aunt Catharine along with the odds and ends that were
too numerous to mention separately, "but just stay at home, and be good
and brave and true and loving to everybody. How easy it sounds! I feel
as if I never could be disobedient or naughty any more," he added, with
a look of such angelic innocence and high resolve that the dwarf had not
the heart to mar his lofty mood by so much as a hint of danger or a word
of warning. He only repeated softly, almost below his breath, a verse
from the battered old Book in his pocket, that was at times his sole
companion, and comfort always:--
"Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones; for I say unto
you, That in heaven their angels do always behold the face of my Father
which is in heaven."