A JOURNEY AND A WELCOME HOME.
Michael and Margaret had, as our young readers may suppose, a very
unpleasant and perilous journey over boggy land, in the midst of a
violent storm too. The charge of an infant of three or four months old,
of course added to their cares and difficulties; but both the fisherman
and his wife had stout hearts which would not soon sink under dangers;
and the Russians are naturally a hardy people. Their winter abode was
the cottage in which Margaret had spent her childhood and early youth,
which was still occupied by her parents, they were therefore sure of a
hearty and affectionate welcome when their journey was over. The old
people had been very anxious about them, fearing from their long stay,
that some evil had overtaken them, so the present meeting was every way
delightful.
‘We have brought some live-stock with us, mother,’ said Michael,
smiling and looking significantly at his wife’s mother.
‘Live stock,’ repeated the dame, ‘why, what have you got?’
Margaret here took off the bearskin covering and displayed her little
charge to view.
‘What, a baby!’ cried the old woman in a tone of amazement.
Wet and weary as the travellers were, it was not a time to keep up
a jest, otherwise Michael would have let the old people guess for
a while, before he told them in what way the little foundling had
been thrown upon their protection, as it was, he explained all in a
sentence, and then begged that they would let him have something to
eat.
Margaret felt more disposed for taking rest than for sharing in
the meal, so she and her mother retired together into one of the
sleeping-rooms, taking the infant with them.
The storm subsided in the course of the night, but no effort could
be made to rescue the shipwrecked people, even should any of them
have drifted to the shore, for the river had by this time so far
overflowed its banks, that the path the fisherman and his wife had
so recently trodden, was not now to be seen. As there appeared but
little probability that the child would ever be claimed, Michael and
his wife resolved on adopting him, and treating him in every respect
as if he were their own. The little fellow seemed very well satisfied
with his new friends. He smiled and cooed at Margaret, in return for
her caresses, and tried to imitate Michael’s loud ringing laugh. With
Margaret’s mother too, he was an especial favourite, and even the old
man was much pleased with this addition to their family.
The matter to be decided on next was, what name the little stranger
should bear. Margaret was reminded by his wicker-cradle and the
perils of his infancy of Moses in his ark of bulrushes, on the banks
of the Egyptian river. She could not help thinking, she said, that a
_mother’s_ tender hand had fastened him so securely in his little bed,
and that a mother’s prayers had saved him from a watery grave, and she
proposed that he should be called by the name of Moses. However, when
the swaddling-clothes in which he had been found were closely examined,
an almost indistinct mark was found on one of them, which after some
little difficulty, was discovered to be _Gerald_. It was therefore
determined to call him by that name.