the parable of the two millstones

THE PARABLE OF THE TWO MILLSTONES.

TranslaTed from The German of

VAN HORN

1870

also

SEPPELI, THE SWISS BOY.

TranslaTed from The German of

FRANZ SALES MEYERby

a.h. loChman, d.d.

1818

The FaTherland SerieS

lampliGhTer publishinGWaverly, pennsylvania

The Parable of the Two Millstones.Original Title: Leonhard, The Runaway.Copyright © 2011 by Mark HambyAll rights reserved.First Printing, June 2011

Published by Lamplighter Publishing; a division of Lamplighter Ministries International.

No part of this edited publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior permission of the copyright owner.

The Lamplighter Collection is a family collection of rare books from the 17th, 18th and 19th centuries. Each edition is printed in an attractive hard-bound collector’s format. For more information, call us at 1-570-585-1314, visit us at www.lamplighter.net or write:

Lamplighter Publishing P.O. Box 777 Waverly, PA 18471

Author: Van Horn (The Parable of the Two Grindstones)Author: Franz Sales Meyer (Seppeli, The Swiss Boy)

Chief Editor: Mark HambyCopy Editor: Darlene Catlett, Deborah HambyLayout and Design: Walter Miller IIICover Design: Jennifer L. Hamby-Brandon

ISBN: 1-58474-186-4ISBN13: 978-1-58474-186-2

PREFACE.

“The school of Divine Providence teaches its lesson, by which hard heads, proud hearts, and stubborn wills are subdued.” Such is the case in the home of a rich merchant, where two hard heads with fiery hot tem-pers abide. Like the age-old story of the Prodigal Son, the distress that comes with stubborn pride often gives way to a softening of heart. For God, who often leads His children in mysterious paths, always orders things for their good. The Parable of the Two Millstones illus-trates just how powerful the gift of forgiveness can be.

The story of Seppeli brings to light the severity of the famine of Switzerland in 1817, unmasking the hypo-crite and proving the faith of God’s devoted followers. The compelling adage to “be industrious and pray” is at the heart of this telling tale.

Mark HambyJames 4:6

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.HARD HEADS..................................................7

CHAPTER II. AT SEA......................................................21

CHAPTER III.MR. STIFTER..................................................33

CHAPTER IV.THE RUNAWAY’S RETURN........................37

“Go home and aSk your FaTher’S ForGiveneSS.”

Darlene

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include - page 14 beneath the caption (on same line)**I don't know how to put it beneath the caption on the same line.

CHAPTER I.

Hard Heads.

THE proverb, ‘Two hard millstones seldom make good flour,’ you have doubt-less often heard as well

as used,” said Uncle Jacob. “What it means is best known to the miller; but hard heads are like hard millstones, and that is the idea of the proverb; for two such hard heads, self-opinionated and fiery hot, do not make good flour either; that is to say, they do not get along well together. They differ in one respect, however; for, whereas hard millstones will always be hard, hard heads, through sad experience, may become soft. This is proved by the following story, for the truth of

The Parable of the Two Millstones.8

which I can vouch.”Before the gates of the great and

wealthy city of Hamburg lies the town of Altona, which gets its name from the Platt-deutsch,1 All-to-nah—al-together too near. A rich merchant, Walther by name, resided there, an upright, industrious2 man, who had accumulated a handsome property by merchandizing. He was a hard stone for all that—a passionate, self-conceited man, who maintained he was always in the right from the first of January to the thirty-first of December. Of course, there was every now and then a severe colli-sion between him and his customers; but his strict principles made them overlook this peculiarity of his. At home, every one gave way to him, and if father said twice two are five, or water runs up hill, his gentle wife remained reserved, knowing when to speak the truth in love; she was like Abigail of old who was married to Nabal3—successful from without, 1 A German dialect spoken in northern Germany.2 Hard-working; diligent; energetic and devoted.3 In 1 Samuel 25 the name Nabal means foolish, vile, wicked, stupid, dolt.

hard heads. 9

but bankrupt from within. Yet Walther was not entirely like Nabal; to his credit, if credit can be applied, he would come to the conclusion at last, by himself, that twice two are four, and that water runs down hill; but then he kept it to himself and never, for the world, confessed that he was in the wrong. If it had not been for his wife’s wise words and soft answers, the family flour, produced by these two millstones, would have been spoiled. She had learned the art of quietly doing what she believed to be right. Truly, if this much-neglected art could only be learned betimes4 by both husband and wife, our homes and society would be much the happier! This reminds me of the well-known verse:

Break your hard head, sir, in season; Folks will listen then to reason; If at home you would have quiet, Please don’t let your tongue run riot!

But to go back to my merchant. He had a right nice family of children,

4 Early; in good time; in a short time; before it is late.


one for each day of the week. In his house he ruled like the Czar5 of all the Russians. His wife, as gentle as an angel, tried to keep everything out of the way that could possibly excite his anger, or put him in a bad humor, but in this she could not always suc-ceed; and then thunder, lightning, and storm raged, so that they were all terribly frightened. Of the chil-dren, the oldest son, Leonhard, had inherited his father’s hard head. Good-naturedness he possessed certainly. This he had from his mother, but he was a hot-head like his father, and his self-conceit gave promise in time to rival his sire’s.6 It was easy to see that matters had come to such a pass that one or both of the hard stones must break. Leonhard had reached that age when he could understand and perceive that his father often went too far, and was wrong when he claimed to be right; but instead of being quiet, as a son should, he contradicted his father; and this, at length, developed into open contempt and defiance. Of 5 Tsar; male monarch; emperor; king.6 Father’s.

hard heads. 11

course, the father became all the more violent and enraged, and it ended in his giving Leonhard a beating. This only made him more stubborn and disobedient. Oh, how the poor mother suffered! She did all in her power to induce her son to be more dutiful in his behavior; but matters had come to such a pitch between the father and son that it was next to impossible to bring about a better understanding, and so the mutual dislike and aliena-tion increased from day to day.

To add to this, Leonhard joined a society of which his father did not ap-prove. This brought on a crisis. One day, when Walther heard that his son had been in the company of these loose fellows, as he termed them, his anger was so roused that he turned Leonhard out of doors, and forbade him, with terrible menaces, ever to cross his threshold again.

Leonhard hurried off, because the neighbors looked at him in a manner which showed their disapprobation7 of his conduct. His mother fell fainting to the floor, the children cried, and the 7 Disapproval; condemnation.


father stormed and raved about the house like a madman.

Leonhard hardly knew whither8 he went, but he took the road to Hamburg, where nobody was acquainted with him. First of all, he looked about for a little spot where he might reflect qui-etly upon his condition, and found one at length on a pier, where ship-timber was piled up. There he sat down, sup-posing that no one could see him. The uppermost thought in his mind was his father’s injustice, and he gave vent to his passion in loud invectives.9 He had no idea that he had committed any wrong himself. It is always easier to take the mote out of a neighbor’s eye than the beam out of our own!10 He comprehended his position very well, but the stubborn pride of his head would not permit him, like the prodigal son, to go back to his father and say, “Father, I have sinned before heaven and in thy sight!”11 Before such a frame of mind could be wrought in him, the hard stone must be made 8 To which place.9 Accusations; condemnations; insulting words.10 Referring to Matthew 7:5 and Luke 6:42.11 Luke 15:21

hard heads. 13

soft. As yet, it was out of the question! True, his condition was not enviable. Of clothes, he had nothing except what he had on—and as for money, the little which he had in his purse was all he could call his own; and now he must go out into the world and fight his way through.

While he was sitting there and talk-ing aloud in his excitement about this trouble, an old man stepped out from behind the pile of lumber. He was a ship-carpenter, who had been stand-ing near the timber, looking at some for his own use. The worthy old man had no acquaintance with Leonhard, but from the loud soliloquy12 which he had overheard, he had gathered enough to let him know how matters stood with the young man at home. Advancing suddenly, he repeated the proverb: “Act in haste, and repent at leisure.”

The sound of his voice came like a thunderbolt on Leonhard’s head, and startled him so that he almost sank to the ground; but his excitement was still too great to allow a good word 12 Monologue.


to find and keep a lodgment13 in his heart.

“Don’t trouble yourself about me!” he said angrily to the old man.

“Young man,” said the other, com-posedly, “I have seen a good many stubborn people who were made soft and considerate by trouble, until they were gentle as lambs; but the good Lord had to take them into the school of sorrow: think of that! I gather from your talk that you have been, while at home, what we call a self-willed boy. Go home, ask your father’s for-giveness, and try to break your hard head, before the wide world breaks it for you! Believe me, to go out into the world with a father’s curse is the worst of all passports.”

With this, he went away.Thus the Lord had sent another

message of peace to the young man; but it was like the first rain in the fickle time of year when winter is breaking up. The ground is frozen too hard, and the drops do not soak in to soften it, but freeze on the surface and form what is sometimes called “glass 13 Lodging.

hard heads. 15

ice.” So the counsel of the man, whose sudden appearance had startled him, glanced off from his hard head. What! go home again? Thank you for noth-ing! No, no! the little gentleman was too proud for that. He was not willing to give his father such a triumph. Go back? No such thing! Pride and self-conceit whispered into his ear, “With your talents, the whole world is open to you. You can make your way! Roasted pigeons will fly at once into your mouth; that is certain in the case of a young man like you!”

Might we not suppose that the young fellow had lived in the present year? I think so; for in our day many boys convince themselves that they have come into the world with very great attainments; and what is very remarkable, with much better sense than their fathers, the old blockheads, ever had! And experience, of course, goes for nothing. These are the natu-ral tendencies of many a hard-headed young man.

Leonhard’s mind was soon made up, for he thought not of his gentle mother,


and he went about the wharves, look-ing for a ship on which he might find a passage to Copenhagen. He regarded this as the best expedient.14 It might, perhaps, have been good for him, if he had learned to be hungry in Danish, for then he could have found out the difference of being hungry in Danish and in German, if there is any. He learned it in German to perfection, while he was in Hamburg. Five whole days he ran about looking for employ-ment on shipboard, and found none. He had no recommendations, no refer-ences. Who could trust him? He had run away from Altona without hat or cap. He was obliged to buy something to cover his head; but that took the half of his money, for he had never yet learned economy.

Before the second day was over, he saw plainly that he would have to sleep under a shed, if he wished to have something left wherewith to buy bread. He did so; but that was terribly hard on the ribs and bones that had been used to a softer bed.

On the morning of the fifth day, 14 Means to an end.

hard heads. 17

when the sun was shining on the pier, he awoke hungry and penniless. Then he sat with his hand on his forehead, and big drops fell from his eyes on the hard ground; but they were not yet the right kind of tears: the sorrow was not yet what Paul calls godly,15 which works repentance not to be repented of; it was a worldly, carnal sorrow—vexation over the failure of his plans. As for returning, a penitent,16 to his father’s house, he had no idea of it. Providence was leading him another way.

While he was sitting there, neither seeing nor hearing anything, the cap-tain of a ship, which was just ready to sail, came along. He was bound for the island of St. Croix, in the West Indies, and was in search of some extra spars17 which he needed. He had lost his clerk by death; for, as he was not very ready18 at writing himself, he kept a clerk, to whom he dictated what he wished to have written. As he was

15 See 2 Corinthians 7:9-10.16 One sorrowful on account of his sins and ready to change his behavior.17 Stout poles to be used at masts.18 Quick; experienced.


passing along the great piles of timber, he saw Leonhard sitting there, and noticed the trickling tears. He looked at the genteel19 young man, eighteen years of age, observed his handsome clothes, and thought to himself, “Who knows, perhaps you may get another clerk here?”

He went up to him and clapped him on the shoulder, saying, “Why so sor-rowful, my lad?”

There was something gentle and good-natured in the tones of the man’s voice that touched Leonhard, although he was startled by the unexpected salutation;20 but he soon recovered his self-possession, and replied:

“A hungry stomach, no prospect of earning anything, and no money in the purse, are sources of poor comfort, captain.”

“True enough,” the captain answered, with a smile; “but the case is not so des-perate even then, if there is disposition21 to work, and trust in God.”

“I have both,” said he, boldly—but 19 Well-bred; cultivated; refined.20 Greeting.21 Inclination; intention.

Darlene

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hard heads. 19

there he said what was not true, for he had not yet learned to trust in God—“but for the last five days I have been looking for work, and can find none.”

The captain looked into the boy’s eyes, and this glance at his counte-nance22 seemed to satisfy him as to the boy’s capacity and disposition, and rather pleased him.

“Well,” he said, “if you will tell me the truth about yourself, and have good recommendations, it might be possible you can find work with me; that is to say, if you would like to go with me to St. Croix.”

That was precisely what Leonhard wished.

“Sit down a few minutes with me, or tell me where I can go with you, and I will do whatever you wish,” said Leonhard.

With the words, “I am comfortable enough here,” the captain sat down by his side, and Leonhard confessed every thing to him, how the whole affair had happened, adhering to the truth in every particular.22 Facial expression.


The captain listened attentively, and said, when Leonhard had concluded, “Go back to your father, my son, without delay, and ask his forgiveness.”

He accompanied these words with admonitions23 respecting the duty which a child owes his father, whatever his failings may be.

“I will starve first!” Leonhard ex-claimed, resolutely.

The captain spoke both sharply and kindly to him; but when he found that he could not change his determination, he said, “Well, then, you shall go with me on board my ship. If your conduct should be such as to please me, you shall not regret your venture. I will see to it that you are provided for in St. Croix.”

Leonhard promised faithfully that he would be obedient and do his duty, and the captain took him along; and after the spars which he had procured24 were put on board, they weighed anchor with a fair wind, and sailed out upon the wide ocean.

23 Advice; counsel; warnings.24 Purchased.

CHAPTER II.

at sea.

LEONHARD had not yet been brought to the ac-knowledgment of his fault. He still regarded himself

as the injured party, and believed that he was right in refusing to go back to his home. He was devoted to the cap-tain. He worked indefatigably,1 and endeavored to carry out his employer’s wishes. As the lad’s attainments were various, the captain found his services very valuable. He became very fond of him, and showed his partiality on all occasions. This excited the envy and ill-will of the sub-officers of the ship, who did not dare show it so long as 1 Tirelessly; without giving way to fatigue.


the captain protected him. He often spoke to him about the provision he intended to make for him in St. Croix; but “man proposes, God disposes.”2 While they were still at sea, the cap-tain was taken sick. Leonhard nursed him with heartfelt love and gratitude, but he became worse and worse, until death ended his sufferings. Leonhard was overwhelmed with grief. He saw the main stay3 of his prosperity taken from him, and began to be in trouble about his future.

Very soon the effects of the hatred of the officers of the ship became ap-parent. The first mate now took the command. He was a surly, uncouth4 man, who disliked Leonhard. Up to this time, Leonhard had lived with the captain and eaten at his table, but now he was obliged to sleep in the worst part of the ship, and to take his meals with the common sailors, and do all the drudgery of a cabin-boy, besides enduring all sorts of abuse,

2 Attributed to Thomas à Kempis (1380-1471) in The Imitation of Christ. 3 Chief support. Nautical: A strong rope that serves to steady and support the mainmast of a sailing vessel.4 Rude; rough-mannered.

aT sea. 23

which made his life on the ship, heretofore5 so pleasant, a perfect torment. It was of no use to complain. Resistance would have subjected him to the severest punishment; so there was no alternative but to endure in silence, to work, and to practice for-bearance. He often crept to his berth in the evening, so worn out and utterly exhausted that he wished he could die before morning. Added to this, the roughest language was addressed to him. Nothing that he did was right. Every one shoved him from one side to another; for when the sailors saw how the officers abused him, they followed their example, and as they were not reproved6 or punished for it, but noticed that their superiors were rather pleased with such conduct, their roughness and cruelty overstepped all bounds, and Leonhard was, without doubt, the most persecuted of mortals, having not a minute’s rest, and being obliged to perform the most menial services even for the sailors, and get-ting curses and blows as his reward. 5 Until this time; before now.6 Scolded; corrected; criticized.


The hard stone at last became soft. His father never had imposed the ten-thousandth part of this injustice, and against him he had raised his voice in loud rebellion. Here he was obliged to suffer abuse in silence, and do work to which he had never been accustomed, and eat victuals7 which nobody else would touch. A single word, any at-tempt at reply, or a murmur, might have had the worst consequences for the miserable youth.

When he was lying in his hammock at night, and the remorseless waves beat heavily against the sides of the ship, bitter tears bedewed8 his cheeks when he thought of his father’s house, of his mother, and his brothers and sisters. He reflected on his conduct toward his father, and remorse began to torture his soul.

“If I had only been still, as here I am obliged to be, under far greater injuries, I might now be living happy and contented in the bosom of my family!” This he said to himself over and over again, and tears accompanied 7 Food.8 Wet as if with dew.

aT sea. 25

such words and thoughts—tears of the deepest penitence.

The school in which Providence had placed him began to bring forth its fruits.

Contrary winds and violent storms had hindered the vessel in its course and retarded its arrival. Provisions began to be scarce. Leonhard was the first who received smaller rations. He was the scapegoat9 of the ship. His work was the same as ever; but with the diminished allowance, he found it by no means easy to accomplish it, and he staggered, at times, from sheer weakness. It was a great mercy that they reached St. Croix at last; for had the detention been protracted10 much longer, he could not have survived.

When they were about to land, the first mate sent for him.

“Boy,” said he, in a harsh, unfriendly tone, “it was only because I pitied you that I have kept such a landlubber11 as you on board up to this time, instead of pitching you into the sea, as you deserved, but 9 A person made to bear the blame for others or to suffer in their place. See Leviticus 16:8, 10, 26. 10 Delayed; drawn out.11 A person unfamiliar with the sea or seamanship.


now I will not allow you to stay here another hour. Some people have just come to the ship in a boat, with provi-sions: get into the boat, and out of my sight! Off to shore with you!”

Leonhard received this order, standing in a humble attitude; and when the mate had ended his speech, he made a low bow and left. The people took him, out of compassion, in their boat to shore.

Oh, how miserable he looked! The good captain had given him other clothes when his fine suit was worn out, and some shirts also, but the sailors kept all that were good for anything; and now he stood, in rags, a stranger on the shore of a strange land, without a penny in his pocket, or an acquaintance in the whole island. He was tormented with hunger; and his emaciated12 figure, the deathly pallor13 of his face, his sunken eyes, showed plainly how he had been treated on board the ship.

The only circumstance which could be regarded as at all favorable was 12 Very thin from lack of food.13 Unnatural lack of color.

aT sea. 27

that he was master of the French lan-guage, so that he could converse with the inhabitants of the island.

The boatman with whom he had come to shore was himself a poor man, but he had pity on Leonhard. He took him into his hovel, gave him something to eat, furnished him with a needle and thread, that he might sew up the rents14 in his clothing, and let him sleep over night in his hut; but, the next morning, he said to him, “Now, my friend, go and earn your bread. I have nothing but this hut and my boat, and what I earn with hard labor.”

Leonhard thanked him with tears for his kindness, and went away to look for employment. He hoped this would not be difficult to obtain, for he was willing to work; but, alas! he was terribly disappointed. He wandered up and down the city, but no one felt disposed to take such a beggarly-looking fellow into his house. The day wore away. He appeased his hunger with bread, which he had begged, but he could find no other shelter than the 14 Rips; tears.


porch of a church. The second, third, and fourth day passed in the same manner, and now starvation was added to his other burdens; for no one, even for the love of God, would give him anything more. So he lay on the hard pavement of the church porch, a poor, homeless, starving wretch. The stars shone in their glory in the heavens, but they seemed to look coldly down upon him. The cup of his misery was full to overflowing; and now remorse seized him with terrific power, and brought him to a sense of his guilt. He confessed his sin, bemoaned his stubbornness, accused himself as the author of his own wretchedness, and of the sorrow of his excellent mother, and for the first time he smote upon his breast and prayed, “God be merci-ful to me a sinner!”15

He arose, threw himself on his knees, and confessed his sin to God. He prayed aloud, involuntarily, so great was his agitation. He prayed fervently, as he had never prayed before. He admitted his own unwor-thiness, and implored the mediation 15 From Luke 18:13.

aT sea. 29

of the blessed Saviour.The Lord, who accepts the contrite,16

hears such supplications,17 and His help is ever near.18

That same evening, a rich merchant of the city had been at the house of a friend to supper, and agreeable company had detained him later than usual. He was very wealthy, but mam-mon had not yet so enchained his soul or hardened his heart to such a degree that he was unable to take pity on an unhappy fellow-creature.

He was passing by the church at the moment when Leonhard was plead-ing so earnestly with his Father in heaven. The merchant stood still. He heard and understood every word, for he was a German from Bremen, who had resided on the island for many years. The longer he listened to the earnest prayers of the supplicant,19 the deeper was the impression they made upon his heart; and when, after some time, Leonhard’s prayer changed to 16 Someone who is sorry for past sin and is resolved to avoid future sin.17 Humble requests; pleas; prayers.18 See Psalm 34:18; 51:17; Isaiah 57:15; 66:2.19 Someone who humbly requests something from someone powerful or from God.


weeping aloud, and he covered his face with his hands, the merchant, whose name was Stifter, went up to him, drew his hands gently from his face, and said, with winning kindness, “Be comforted, young man: if that which you have confessed and promised to the Lord is real earnest, I will receive you into my house!”

When you hear your mother-tongue in a strange land, the person who ad-dresses you, stranger though he be, seems almost like a dear, personal friend; but when, in a time of distress like that in which Leonhard was, a kind word is spoken in your own language—right to your heart—then, indeed, the speaker is a messenger direct from heaven.

Leonhard stared at him as though he were in a dream. The torch which Mr. Stifter’s servant carried shone upon the kind friend, and Leonhard looked up into a mild and friendly face.

“Oh!” he sobbed out, “if you, whom God has sent to me, will take pity upon a poor outcast who is ready to die with hunger, my gratitude shall be unceasing.

aT sea. 31

I will devote all my strength to your service as long as God gives it to me.”

Tears came into Mr. Stifter’s eyes.“Come,” said he, “as quickly as you

can, and you shall not suffer for want of food.”

Leonhard, hungry and wretched as he was, did not wait for a second invitation. He went home with Mr. Stifter, and that memorable night lay down to refreshing sleep upon a good bed, with heartfelt thanks to God for His manifold20 mercies.”

20 Of many different kinds.

CHAPTER III.

Mr. stifter.

MR. STIFTER was a man who knew the world, and had often been imposed upon and deceived. He did

not, therefore, take everything blindly on trust, but first tried the young man whom he had taken under his protec-tion, by various commissions and tasks. He was soon convinced that he had found an honest and capable young man; and in St. Croix there was not a surplus of such people. At the end of three months, he introduced Leonhard into his business with entire confidence. He found that his


protégé1 was well educated, that he had a thorough mercantile training, could speak French and English, and therefore, with his honesty, could be very useful. He paid him a handsome salary for his services, and increased it from year to year. Leonhard trav-elled for his employer over the French islands, and afterward in the United States, and transacted the business so well that, on his return from the latter country, Mr. Stifter gladly and gratefully took him into partnership.

Leonhard had by this time saved a handsome sum, which he now invested.

Mr. Stifter, in addition to his sal-ary, had provided him with all the clothing he required, so that it was easy to lay aside his entire salary; and this economy2 and prudence,3 without meanness,4 commended5 him to his employer, no less than his love of order, his diligence, reliability, honesty, and clear insight into business matters. 1 A person under the protection or care of someone interested in his or her career or welfare.2 Management of money.3 Care or forethought in the management of resources.4 Stinginess.5 Proved to possess worthwhile qualities.

mr. sTifTer. 35

Leonhard accepted this prosperity with humility, as a gracious gift of God. He rejoiced in it, but only with the purpose to return home, in order to obtain his father’s forgiveness and blessing, without which he could not live happily, or die in peace.

In the school of adversity, the Lord had opened his eyes to his own state, and the obligation he owed to his father; his stubborn will was broken, his pride was humbled, the hard stone had become soft, so that he could now, had it been necessary, have lived in peace even with one who was not of the most amiable disposition. He saw more and more plainly that his father had often been in the right when he had reproved him with great severity; and so far from justifying his own stubbornness, he blamed himself, and regretted that he had provoked his fa-ther’s anger. And then, his dear, good mother! how must she have suffered in consequence of his leaving home.

Thoughts like these presented themselves with ever-increasing frequency and force. He had written many letters to his father, and also to


his mother, all filled with expressions of contrition, but not a syllable had he ever received in reply. This troubled him with increasing force every day.

Thus he became so home-sick that at last he had no rest. Mr. Stifter knew his whole story from beginning to end, and pitied him when he saw how sad he was. At last, one day, the good merchant broke the ice by say-ing, “Dear Walther, I see you must go home, or we shall have to bury you here.”

That was true, for many a one has died of home-sickness when far away, because he could not get home for want of money. This was not Leonhard Walther’s case. When he settled his accounts with Mr. Stifter, it appeared that he had earned a large amount, so that he was a rich man. When he had everything in his pocket, partly in cash and the rest in good bills of exchange, he bade farewell to his preserver and friend, Mr. Stifter, and took passage in a ship bound for Hamburg.

CHAPTER IV.

tHe runaway’s return.

BUT now we must go back to Altona, and see how mat-ters have been in the home of Leonhard’s parents since

his departure.The violence of passion had soon

abated,1 and Leonhard’s father con-fessed, at first only to himself, how sorry he was that he had been so severe with his son, and had provoked him so seriously; but when he saw that his excellent wife suffered anguish too great for words, his feelings over-whelmed him, and he acknowledged aloud that regret and sorrow were gnawing like a worm at his heart, 1 Decreased; lessened; become less intense.


without ceasing.The unhappy mother was incon-

solable,2 and her sorrow was the source of increased distress to her husband. She had sent faithful and reliable people, immediately after her son had left, to look for him and persuade him to have an interview with his loving mother; but as he had gone directly to Hamburg, they lost so much time in looking for him in the houses of friends that all the news they could bring back concerning him was that he had sailed in a ship bound to St. Croix.

Then his mother would not be com-forted. Nothing but her love to her other children kept her from sinking; and in the redoubled faithful dis-charge of her duties as the mother of a family, and in fervent prayer for her absent son, she sought some allevia-tion3 of her grief.

With his sorrow for his sever-ity toward his son, the hard stone in Walther’s soul had begun to soften, and the sadness and tears of his good 2 Sad beyond comforting; heartbroken; distressed.3 Relief; easing.

The runaWay’s reTurn. 39

wife made it still softer every day. All inquiries continued fruitless. The sea-captain who had been friendly to Leonhard was dead, and neither the officers nor the sailors of the vessel, who had treated Leonhard so shamefully, were disposed to give any information which would expose them to the danger, in case of Leonhard’s return, of having their abominable4 conduct made public.

To their shame, they reported false-ly that Leonhard had not remained in St. Croix, but had set off immediately to the neighboring French islands; and so every trace was lost. Not one of the letters which Leonhard wrote ever came into the hands of his parents.

All this depressed his father still more. What had become of the poor boy? This question tortured him incessantly. Perhaps he had thrust him into the depths of wretchedness; or he had possibly been the cause of his death! This humiliation, which was manifest in an entire change of disposition, and in a demeanor both gentle and loving toward his wife and 4 Horrible; foul; extremely bad.


children, was enhanced by another circumstance. He had entered into a business operation with another mer-chant, and had gotten into a violent dispute with his partner. Owing to this, the favorable opportunity was lost, and the enterprise failed in such a manner as to occasion a heavy loss of capital. Scarcely had this tragedy occurred, when a firm in Altona that was largely indebted to him became bankrupt. One loss succeeded an-other. Walther was obliged to curtail his business, and in the course of a few years he had become a poor man.

“This is the judgment of God!” he said to himself. “This is the retribu-tion for having, without mercy, thrust my poor child out into the wide world!”

Then the worm that dies not gnawed and gave him no peace. Every sorrow-ful look of his wife was a thorn in his heart.

Here too, the school of Divine Providence was teaching its lesson, by which hard heads, proud hearts, and stubborn wills are subdued, and here its teachings were not in vain.

When he gathered up the fragments


of his property, there was barely enough left to enable him, with great economy and hard work, to earn a scanty subsistence.5 He rented a small house in the country, with a lit-tle garden, not far from the city, and moved into it. He sought and obtained some humble mercantile6 employ-ment; his wife and daughter earned money at home by sewing, knitting and embroidery, and yet it was not sufficient for the maintenance of his large family.

Although their distress was great, Walther’s wife was thankful for it; for her husband had become another man. He was no longer a petty tyrant, whose violence and passion terrified all his family, but a gentle, loving husband and father. She bore her grief in silence, and thanked God for this happy change.7

Here again it was proved that God’s ways lead through the darkness of night to the light of day.

If the good mother could only have had some tidings of her son, she would 5 Limited or minimal survival.6 Trading; commercial; moneymaking.7 See Proverbs 15:15-18.


have thanked God still more devoutly for this change in her condition. He was the subject of her daily, hourly prayer. Sometimes a ray of hope would glimmer in her heart, but then it was soon obscured by dark clouds.

“Man’s extremity is God’s opportunity!”8 This excellent proverb was to be verified in the experience of Walther’s family.

One fine evening, Walther was sit-ting by the side of his wife, in deep distress. It was a season of scarcity, and the times were hard. Their six children were to be fed, clothed, and educated. The expense was greater than they could meet, with all their industry and economy. They were two quarters’ rent9 in arrears,10 and they had no money to pay it. The hard-hearted owner of the property threatened to put them out if they did not raise the money, and that was out of their power.

The father sat with his hands folded, looking with tear-dimmed eyes 8 Attributed to John Flavel (1627-1691).9 Rent and other expenses were commonly paid four times each year. Two quarters is half a year.10 Behind; overdue.


prayerfully to heaven, whence11 alone help and deliverance can come. The mother leaned her head sorrowfully on her husband’s shoulder, and her tears fell silently upon the grass. The oldest daughter stood by the trunk of the tall tree under which they were sitting, and covered her eyes with her hand-kerchief, while the younger children, who could not as yet share their par-ents’ grief, were playing around them in harmless though thoughtless glee. At this moment, one of the boys came running to them, and said a carriage had just driven up, and a gentleman had gotten out and inquired for his father.

The mother exclaimed with joyful surprise, “Who knows? Perhaps our gracious God, in His great mercy, is sending deliverance to us!”

The stranger approached. When Leonhard (for it was he) saw his parents in such poverty, his strength failed him. He staggered against a tree, and wept aloud. Until now, no one recognized him; but the eye of a mother’s love is keener than all others. 11 From where.


Suddenly she cried out, “My son!” and sank fainting to the ground.

The daughter ran to her help. In her own distress, she had paid no attention at first to her mother’s exclamation; while her father ran to-ward his son, threw his arms around him, and sobbed aloud: “Leonhard, my Leonhard, are you restored to me? Thank God—thank God!”

“Father,” said the young man, with deep emotion, “can you forgive me?”

“My child!” exclaimed his father, “do not ask me such a question—it is I who must ask you to forgive my un-natural severity.”

There, locked in each other’s arms, the bond of holy filial12 and paternal13 love was sealed once and forever. The hard stones had become soft, and the Lord in heaven rejoiced, and knew that henceforth the fruits of charity would abound.

Then they noticed, for the first time, that the mother was lying on the ground, as though dead; and they heard the children screaming, 12 Love of a child for a parent.13 Love of a father for his child.


“Mother is dead!”“Be comforted,” said the happy

father. “A mother’s joy never breaks a mother’s heart! God will restore her to us!”

They carried her into the house, but it was only with great difficulty, and after long application of restoratives, that they succeeded in reviving her. In peaceful joy the son leaned upon his mother’s breast, and was welcomed by his brothers and sisters, who had grown so much that he would never have recognized them.

Joy had entered the house of sorrow. Truly, “God’s ways are wonderful.”

Gradually, they all became compara-tively composed, and Leonhard, who had picked up the letter which his father had been reading and had dropped at the mother’s bedside, knew at a glance, from its general appearance, that it was a landlord’s warrant, and understood at once the cause of the deep distress in which he had found them, on his arrival.

“Thank God!” he said, “that I have come in time to save you from still greater calamity! Now, your trouble is over! God has blessed me with wealth;


which I have not deserved, but all that I have is yours, for to you I owe more than I can ever repay, and days of sadness shall give way to years of happiness.

The first tide of joy passed away, and when they had become more calm, Leonhard related his story, which filled them with renewed thankfulness to God, who often leads His own children in mysterious, hidden paths, but al-ways orders all things for their good.14 Leonhard paid the arrears of rent with-out delay; but, not content with this, he would not rest until he had redeemed the dear old homestead in the city. Father and son at once resumed business, which God prospered with His blessing, for now there was no grinding between hard millstones, but peace, gentleness, kindness, and love had their perfect work. Industry and unimpeachable15 integrity ruled at home and in business. The mother seemed to have a new life given to her, and the father looked as though he was renewing his youth. The children grew up in the fear of God, and in blooming health. In short, prosperity 14 See Romans 8:28; Genesis 50:20.15 Blameless; unquestionable.


and happiness accompanied the family in all their ways. They regained their former position, and their peace was never more disturbed by the violence of uncontrolled passion.

Leonhard subsequently, on one oc-casion, met the mate of the ship, who had so shamefully abused him: he was sick, and in wretched circumstances. Instead of revenging his wrongs, Leonhard relieved his wants, and so heaped coals of fire upon his wicked, thankless head.16

What I would like to add is simply this:

Although the proverb is true, that two hard millstones seldom grind good flour, and this story proves that adversity is needed to make the hard heart soft, it seems to me, neverthe-less, it would be better, looking to God, in the name of His dear Son, for help, to endeavor to overcome this, or any besetting sin, by curbing the fiery temper, and learning betimes to be mild and gentle. He will succeed who follows the Saviour’s counsel:

“Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation.”17

16 See Proverbs 25:21-22; 25:1-2.17 Matthew 26:41a

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THE END.

“however, when They were abouT To STarT, and bade Their parenTS and The oTherS Fare-

well, They could noT reFrain From TearS.”

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SEPPELI, THE SWISS BOY.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.SEPPELI’S PARENTAGE AND FAMILY..............53

CHAPTER II.SEPPELI AND FRIDOLIN UPON THEIR JOURNEY...................................................................73

CHAPTER III.SEPPELI COMES INTO THE NEIGHBORHOOD OF CONSTANCE.......................................................81

CHAPTER IV.SEPPELI UPON THE ISLAND.................................87

CHAPTER V.SEPPELI DESIRES TO SEE HIS PARENTS AGAIN........................................................................95

CHAPTER VI.SEPPELI, ACCOMPANIED BY HIS FATHER, RETURNS TO THE ISLAND...............................113

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CHAPTER I.

seppelli’s parentage and faMily.

IN the parish of M—, in Switzerland, there lived a poor and pious1 family, which served the Lord in

meek simplicity without ostentation.2

The pious sentiments they entertained, and the Christian de-portment3 which marked their lives, were brought before the public by the remarkable history of Seppeli, one of their children. We are indebted for this beautiful and affecting nar-rative to the famine, which raged so extensively in Switzerland in the year

1 Sincerely desiring to worship and obey God.2 Show or display.3 Behavior toward others.

seppeli, tHe swiss Boy.54

1817, during which so many persons perished.

The distress which pervaded all ranks of society almost beggars description.4 It was truly a visita-tion of God, and in no small degree was instrumental in unmasking the hypocrite and in proving the faith and confidence, the constancy and devot-edness of the people of God. It is in times of deep distress that God tries and proves the hearts of the children of men.

The father of this family was a plain, honest, God-fearing man. His wealth consisted of an amiable,5 affectionate, and industrious wife; nine sprightly and obedient children; a consciousness of integrity, and a firm trust in his Heavenly Father, to whom, amidst all his cares and toils, he could confidently fly for refuge.

Every undertaking he commenced and every duty he entered upon with prayer. Though obliged to commence his daily labors at the dawn of day, he contrived6 to spend a short time in 4 Was so extraordinary as to make description or belief impossible. 5 Friendly; pleasant.6 Planned; prepared.

seppelli’s parenTaGe and family. 55

prayer with his family each morning, to thank God for His parental care and goodness, and to beseech Him to deliver them from evil, and to aid him in training up his children in the fear of the Lord.

This pious man constantly endeav-ored to live near to God, so that in seasons of the greatest distress his confidence never wavered. “Be indus-trious and pray,” was his motto. This he often repeated to his children, and, in order that it might always be borne in mind, he had written it in large letters on one side of the wall of the room.

Amidst the severest labors of the day he was always contented and cheerful, and was often heard to sing some of those hymns which he had committed in early life, and which were full of encouragement. In the evening, though much fatigued, he generally gathered his family around him, read some portion of the Holy Scriptures, and instructed his chil-dren in the doctrines and precepts of religion.

When, at times, his labors were


exceedingly fatiguing, and his fare7 unusually coarse and scanty, he would reserve but a small portion of food for himself, and divide the rest among his wife and children; and when his little ones would say, “Father, why do you not eat?” he generally replied, “Do eat, my dear children; I am satisfied and contented. To-morrow God will provide more.”

To become acquainted with the character of the wife and children of this man, it was only necessary to observe their conduct for a single day. The history of one of their children, a boy nine years old, will give us a charming picture of the whole family. For though there are some exceptions, yet pious parents are more likely to have pious children than those who are not. The power of example, which they have continually before them, the exercise of parental care, and the effect and influence of their fervent prayers, will naturally make a very happy impression upon them. A child thus trained up in the way of the Lord is often the best evidence of the religious 7 Food; diet.

seppelli’s parenTaGe and family. 57

character of its parents. Such an evi-dence of parental influence and piety we have in the following history.

When in the morning the father had implored the blessing of God upon his family, and was prepared to go to his daily employment, he would say to his wife, “The Lord be with you, and bless you;” and to the oldest children, who generally rose as early as he did, “Children, learn your lessons, attend to your work, and be obedient to your mother.”

Thus would this poor man leave his humble cottage, and engage in his daily labor with the highest degree of contentment and happiness.

While the father was engaged here and there as a common day-laborer, the mother and children were em-ployed at home in plaiting1 shoe-laces, which were much worn in those days, and for which they generally found a ready sale. As soon as the children were capable of doing anything, they had a work assigned them pro-portioned to their age and strength; and in order to encourage them to be 1 Braiding.

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industrious, and to render their work rather delightful and easy than tedi-ous and irksome, the mother related to them some pleasant story, which, while it interested them, was at the same time instructive, and illustrated the goodness of God, the excellence of virtue, or the evil consequences of sin and wickedness.

Often did she say to them, “If you are obedient and industrious to-day, I will relate an interesting tale.” This was a sufficient stimulus to diligence, and imparted new life and cheerfulness. For her narratives she generally chose some Scripture history, full of strik-ing incidents, which were calculated to arrest the attention of the youthful mind, and which were designed to impart suitable instructions in the most impressive manner. Thus, for example, at one time she would select the history of our Saviour, and dwell particularly upon His obedience to His parents; His being found in the temple when but twelve years of age; His holy and spotless life; His disinterested2

2 Impartial; unselfish; selfless.

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seppeli’s parentage and faMily. 59

benevolence;3 His love for His enemies; His attention to the poor; and especially His great love in dying for sinners. At another time she took the history of Joseph, and dwelt upon his being sold by his brethren; upon the marvellous interference of God in his behalf, and showed how He will even make the plottings of enemies redound4 to His children’s good. These histories she related in so simple and affecting a manner that the children were often bathed in tears, and her pertinent comments produced a lasting impres-sion upon their minds, and had a very beneficial effect.

Such was the state of this happy family when the pressure of the fam-ine began to be severely felt; and in no district was the want greater than in the parish of M—. Our readers are by this time, no doubt, sufficiently in-terested in this narrative to inquire, “And what did this poor family do in this time of general distress?”

They exerted themselves to the utmost, and were busily engaged in 3 Good will; kind or generous acts.4 Contribute; add to; overflow.

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their work from morning until night. But the famine increased every day and every week, and with it their wants. They soon began to be in want of even the necessaries5 of life, and had scarcely a sufficiency of coarse brown bread to appease the crav-ings of hunger. The father, who was always willing to work, had often to stay at home and be without employ-ment, because there were few in the neighborhood who could afford to hire a laborer for any length of time. The mother, however, did not despair, but encouraged the rest to look to and trust in God in the darkest times. As the pious in that country and in those days had a sentiment or golden adage,6 as they termed it, for every situation and circumstance in life, so had she laid up a store in her memory, against the day of need.

“In days of need, keep though in heart:Trust in they God, and do thy part.”

This was her adage in those days of 5Essentials; necessities.6 Traditional saying; proverb.

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trial. “This,” said she, “I often heard my mother repeat in the great famine of ’70; and the same good God, who brought me and my widowed mother through those trying times, yet lives, and can and will help us in this our time of need, be it ever so great.”

When the father and children looked so sorrowfully upon the bundles of laces which hung upon the wall, and for which they found less sale every day, she used to say: “Do not take your hands from your work, or else God will remove His hands from us. It seems to me I yet hear my mother say:

‘Work and pray:God helps alway.’”

When the little ones went out to sell their shoe-laces, they were generally sent away with, “We have no money; we cannot buy any.” Though they could not sell their work, they did not spend their time in idleness, but worked as diligently as though they found a ready sale for their work. It grieved their very souls when they heard any of their idle neighbors repeating such

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words as the following:

“Why will you plague yourselves in vain,

When all your work brings little gain?”

A certain neighbor of theirs—who afterward perished of want—often came to their house during the fam-ine, and, seeing them work so hard, would repeat his saying:

“Rather than thus toil’s lot to share,Keen hunger’s gnawing I would

bear.”

One day, while their father was absent, engaged in laboring for a man who had hired him for the day, this idle neighbor again came and re-peated his foolish adage, endeavoring thereby to discourage the mother and children in their work. On his return in the evening, he found the lazy fel-low still there, and when his good wife complained of the neighbor’s conduct, he said to him, “My friend, if you will not work yourself, be at least so kind

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as not to come here to dishearten my family. I dare not suffer7 it.”

As this indolent8 neighbor was accustomed to provide only for his present and most urgent wants, and did not in the least concern himself as to the necessary supplies for the mor-row, or prepare for the day of need, he was often in the greatest perplexity, so that on a rainy day when he could not work, or on a day when he could obtain no work, he often had scarcely anything to eat, and in winter no fuel to keep himself warm, and was often obliged to go and ask permission to warm himself in the houses of others. The neighbors had, indeed, all forbid-den him to enter their houses, in case he would continue to spend his time so idly; yet they nevertheless had compassion upon his old and feeble mother, who was over eighty years of age and was a pious woman. Many tears did she shed, and many prayers did she offer up to God for her disobe-dient son, who treated her so ill.

The poor family whose history we 7 Allow; permit.8 Slow; lazy; inactive.


are relating was particularly kind to her. When they knew that the son was not at home, the children would often bring her over to their house.

“Go quickly,” the mother would say, “and call old Lizzie, that she may warm herself at our fire; but take care and lead her slowly, that she may not fall. We will give her a little soup, for I dare say she has had nothing warm to eat to-day.”

“Yes, mother,” one of the children would reply, “I will give her a little of my soup, too;” and then another smaller one would cry, “And I, too, will give her some of mine.”

Old Lizzie was thus often sent for, warmed, and fed, and encouraged in the most friendly manner to always look up to and put her trust in God.

One of the children once went up to her and said, most kindly, “Lizzie, give me your cold hands; I will put them between mine and warm them;” and when she went away with tears in her eyes, thanking them for their kind-ness, another of the little ones would say, “Poor Lizzie, don’t cry! our God is so good, He won’t let you suffer; only


come again soon to our house.”Thus the children of this Christian

couple, though they had no great possessions, had inherited what was of far greater importance and value, namely, the dispositions and virtues and piety of their parents.

As this cottage was the abode of piety, so God’s presence and care were ever experienced by its inmates; and although they often keenly felt the pressure of need, they nevertheless had daily proofs of His parental good-ness in providing for their returning wants.

One evening, as they were retir-ing to rest, and had made a slender supper upon the last piece of bread which they had left, the father, gazing anxiously at his children as they lay in their beds, turned to his wife, and, wiping away a tear as it stole from his eye, said, “What shall we eat to-morrow? we have no bread, and I have no work.”

She answered, “Our Lord and Saviour has taught us to pray, ‘Give us this day our daily bread,’9 and this 9 Matthew 6:11

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we will do if we live until to-morrow. God will provide.”

On the following morning some one knocked at the door very early, and engaged the father to work for him. He went, and when he returned at night he brought a considerable quan-tity of coarse flour and a few pounds of fine flour, together with a crock of milk for the babe. All this was given him as a compensation for this day’s labor. The joy of his wife and children was indescribable, and as he placed the flour and milk upon the table, he said: “See, children, how good God is to us. This morning we prayed, ‘Give us this day our daily bread,’ and He heard our prayer and provided thus liberally for us. Oh, let us ever praise Him for His goodness.”

Upon another occasion, when they were in the greatest want, and the cries of the children for bread had become so urgent, they resolved to kill the only hen they had left, which daily laid an egg, constituting the chief nourishment of their youngest child. When they went in pursuit of it, it was scratching in the garden for food, and,


as it was a pet of the children, they could not endure the idea of killing it.

“Oh, no, father,” said a little chap of three years old. “Don’t kill little chicken—lay egg for baby.” With this he ran toward it, crying, “Shoo! shoo!” and it flew upon a tree.

“Well, let it go,” said the mother. “Its flight was upward, and this has saved it: let this teach us that we must also look up on high for help; our Father who dwells on high will provide food for to-morrow.”

Scarcely had half an hour elapsed when a noise was heard at the window. The father went out, and found it was a stranger who had missed his way, and who begged him to go with him and direct him into the main road again, promising him at the same time to reward him liberally10 for his trouble.

“I will willingly direct you,” re-turned the honest laborer, “even without pay, for I feel it a duty which I owe to my fellow-men to assist them, in every time of need, to the utmost of my power.”10 Generously.

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He now came in, lighted the lamp, put it into a lantern, and accompanied the stranger until late at night. As they went along, the stranger spoke of the great distress which prevailed, and admired the firm and unshaken confidence in God which his guide manifested.11

When they arrived at the main road, and near to an inn where the stranger intended to tarry12 all night, he said, “My friend, I thank you most cordially13 for your kindness, and for the trouble which you have had on my account; and as you feel a hesita-tion in taking pay for that which you esteem14 your duty, be pleased at least to accept of the provision I had taken with me in case I should need any, which, thanks to you, has not been the case.” So saying, he handed him a little package, which he had previ-ously opened and slipped something in. “Take this,” said he; “and carry it to your wife and children; but take care and do not open it on the way, lest you 11 Revealed; demonstrated.12 Stay; remain.13 Heartily; graciously; warmly.14 Consider.

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might lose something out of it.”“Thank you, kindly, my friend; may

God reward you,” replied he.With this little package under his

arm he hastily retraced his steps. Tears of joy stood in his eyes, as he thought of God’s providential interfer-ence in his and his family’s behalf, and loudly did he make the dark woods re-echo his song of praise.

“He that trusts a Father’s care,Shall never perish in despair.”

When he reached his dwelling, he handed the package to his wife, who had anxiously awaited his return. It contained a large piece of white bread, about four pounds of boiled sausage, and four French crowns.

“Oh, did I not tell you, my dear husband,” cried his wife, rejoicingly, “that our help must come from above, and that God would provide for the morrow? Surely it was God who thus provided for us at a time when our wants were most pressing. He did not, indeed, miraculously send us this from heaven, but He ordered events

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and circumstances in such a manner that we were thus provided for. We will never despair of His goodness, but trust in Him more firmly. He will never forsake us.”

The famine, however, continued, and the sufferings of the poor every day increased.

One morning, the mother said to the two oldest boys, Seppeli and Fridolin, “Dear children, take this little bundle of shoe-laces, and go up, in God’s name, toward the mountains, and try whether you can sell them.”

“Yes,” said the father; “try what you can do.”

The little fellows were soon ready, highly delighted with the idea of going abroad, but much more so with the expectation of bringing home some money and provisions for the family.

However, when they were about to start, and bade their parents and the others farewell, they could not refrain from tears.

“God bless you, my children—be good boys while you are gone; be hon-est and straightforward, never touch anything that does not belong to you.


Go now; God bless you, and bring you safely back again. We expect you to return in about a week.” The parents and the rest of the children looked after the boys, who had now for the first time left home alone, until their view was obstructed by the interven-ing hills.

CHAPTER II.

seppeli and fridolin upon tHeir Journey.

AS our little wayfarers were walking along, they talked much of their dear, kind parents. After they had

proceeded some miles they espied1 a hand-board, put up where the road forked, in order to direct travellers. And as this was constructed of a long upright post with a piece of board nailed across it near the top, on which the direction was written, it put them in mind of the Saviour’s cross.

“See,” said Seppeli, as he pointed to it; “that puts us in mind of our Saviour,

1 Caught sight of.


who died on the cross, of whom our dear mother has told us so much, and especially that He used to love the children. Oh, I hope He will also love us: we will try to be good and obedient children. Don’t you know, Fridolin, how He fed the five thousand hungry people with a few loaves of bread?”

“Oh, yes,” replied Fridolin; “and they had twelve baskets full left; oh, if He would only give us such a basket full, how our mother would rejoice, and pray, and thank Him, when we should bring it home!”

“Yes,” said Seppeli; “we will kneel down and ask Him to do so.”

They now knelt down, and Seppeli prayed: “Oh, dear Saviour, if You love us, fill our little bag with bread: our mother has often told us You could do all things; oh, therefore, we pray, give us some bread. Amen.”

They now arose and proceeded on their journey, and found several of their mother’s relatives who lived along the road, some of whom received them in a very friendly manner and assisted them as much as their circumstances would permit, while others treated

seppeli and fridolin. 75

them very coolly indeed. But for their shoe-laces they found very little de-mand, and sold but few.

Once, as they were sitting under a tree, and speaking of home, Fridolin repeatedly said, “I wish I were at home again with father and mother, and our little sisters and brothers!”

But Seppeli replied, “I should like to go home, very much, if I could take them something; but I cannot bear to see them so hungry and have so lit-tle to eat; and if we should go home, we would just eat so much away from them.”

Fridolin then said, “Let us go into the village yonder; perhaps we can sell some of our lace-strings, and get a little bread besides.”

They rose and went into the village; and Fridolin, as if certain he would get something there, was already looking for his little bag to put it in, when lo, it was gone! He had lost it, but when, he did not know. He now began to cry, and say, “Now I dare not go home again; I will bring too great a disappointment to mother; though they will forgive and comfort me, my


carelessness is a burden I must bear myself.”

An elderly woman passing by per-ceived that he was crying and asked him who he was and what he was cry-ing for. He told her his name and the reason why he wept.

“Dear me,” said she; “your mother is an old acquaintance of mine; come home with me, and I will give you another bag, and put some bread and flour in it, too.”

The tired and hungry boys went home with her, and while they were eating dinner she asked them many questions concerning their parents, and how they did in these days of want. They told her how great their distress was, and that their father could scarcely procure2 any more work, and that was the reason why they were thus sent out.

“Dear children,” said she, “I will as-sist you as much as I can.” So saying, she got another bag for them, and put some flour and bread in it, and went to some of her more wealthy neighbors, who also assisted them with a little 2 Obtain; acquire; get.


money. “Now, children,” said she, “go and take this home; your parents may be in great need.”

Having thanked the kind woman over and over again, they directed their steps homeward. Fridolin was greatly rejoiced to think that he would soon be at home again, but Seppeli was very sorrowful, and scarcely spoke a word. At last he said to Fridolin: “I believe I will not go home yet, but by God’s help will go farther, and become a shepherd, like David, of whom mother told us so much. When you get home, tell father and mother to pray for me; and tell them I will fol-low their good advice, and live in the presence and fear of God every day. As soon as I have found a place as a shepherd, I will come home and tell you all that has happened to me, and bring whatever I can.”

The two brothers now separated. Fridolin—though it was a consider-able distance—was yet so anxious to see his parents and the children that he quickened his pace and arrived home that evening. When his mother saw him coming, she ran to meet


him; but finding that he was alone, she tremblingly inquired, “Where is Seppeli? Why did he not come with you?”

Fridolin told her where and why he had left him to return home alone, and how he wished his parents to pray for him, and so forth.

“Ah!” said the distressed mother, “it was our want, our scarcity of food that drove him away. He could not bear to see his parents eat so spar-ingly that they might leave the more for the children; and I often noticed him eating but little, and feigning3 that he was not hungry, so that the rest of us might have more. Oh, my dear child, I did not dream that you would not return with your brother; you were always so obedient to us, and I told you to return. I would much rather endure hunger and want than lose one of my children.”

The father, seeing his wife so much distressed, endeavored to comfort her as much as lay in his power.

“Come, my dear wife,” said he, “be not so distrustful of God’s providence; 3 Pretending.


we will pray often for our dear boy, as he has desired of us, and commit him to the parental care of our God. He will take care of him and provide a home for him. ‘The earth is the Lord’s, and the fulness thereof;’4 and wherever our child may be, God will be with him. He is a good, industri-ous, and obedient child. He will find a place; and when he has once found a situation, and his master becomes rightly acquainted with him, he will surely, if he be a good man, not send him off very soon.”

4 Psalm 24:1

CHAPTER III.

SEPPELI COMES INTO THE NEIGHBORHOOD OF

CONSTANCE.

SEPPELI, in his travels, had now come into the neigh-boring canton1 of Thurgau, where he often knocked at

the doors and windows, inquiring, with the utmost simplicity, “Don’t you want a shepherd boy? I will be very industrious, and take good care of the sheep.”

The people, in general, were very much pleased, as well as affected,2 with the open and interesting countenance 1 Region; district.2 Impressed; influenced.


and the artless3 simplicity of the boy. Many called him into their houses and gave him something to eat; and when he left them, some gave him a few cakes, for which he was very grateful. He repeated many little pious senti-ments and adages, which his good mother had taught him; among others he generally bade them farewell with the following:

“May God give you work to enjoy,For the kindness you showed a poor boy.”

Thus he wandered from place to place, until he came to the Lake of Constance, in which he perceived a large island, whereon were many houses.

“Oh,” said he, as he seated himself upon the banks of the lake, “if I were only over there, I am sure they would want a shepherd boy; but it is hard to get over, and a person will get very wet in going through the water. But, by the help of God, I will try to wade over.”

He now rose and went into the 3 Sincere; natural; honest.

deborahhamby

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THE NEIGHBORHOOD OF CONSTANCE. 83

water, walking toward the island until the water reached to his breast. Here he stopped, not knowing what to do. At this moment he heard some one crying from the other side, “Go back, boy, or you will be drowned. I will come over for you.”

Seppeli was very much alarmed when he heard him call so loudly, and immediately returned to the shore. As the man approached in his small boat, Seppeli gazed with astonishment, for he had never before seen anything like a boat in which men could ride upon the water.

“Step in,” said the man; “I am in a hurry.”

After he had taken his seat in the boat, he said, “It is strange that you can go about on the water in this hollow tree, just as we ride about in wagons on the land. I never saw any-thing like this before.”

“Why did you venture into the water so far?” said the man, rather roughly.

Seppeli did not answer a word, partly because the man had spoken a little harshly to him, and partly because he was afraid of falling out of

THE NEIGHBORHOOD OF CONSTANCE. 85

the boat, which was very narrow.But when they reached the shore

and stepped upon the island, he was very glad, and thanked the man for bringing him over. He asked him, “How will I get back again when I wish to return home?”

“Never mind that,” said the man; “I will take you over; but now go to yonder house and warm yourself, and dry your clothes, for you are very wet, and must be chilled through.”

CHAPTER IV.

seppeli upon tHe island.

SEPPELI followed the man’s advice and went to the house and dried his clothes, and having received some

bread and milk for supper, he was taken up into the barn by one of the servants, and shown a little straw bed which stood in the corner. “Here,” said the servant, “you can sleep; and may you have a good night’s rest.”

Seppeli, being very much fatigued, offered up a short prayer, and having laid himself upon his bed, soon fell into a sound sleep. Early the next morn-ing he arose from his bed refreshed, but unlike the brutes beside which he had slept; for he knelt down and,


folding his hands, looked up to heaven through the little window which was near by, and, as he thought he was alone, began to pray aloud. The serv-ant who had shown him his bed the previous evening had, however, arisen very early to feed the cattle, and hear-ing some one speaking, he silently went toward the place whence4 it proceeded, and through a hole in the wall saw little Seppeli upon his knees, earnestly engaged in prayer, while the tears rolled down his cheeks.

The servant was very much affected, especially when he heard him pray so earnestly for his parents, his sisters and brothers, and went and called his master, saying, “Oh, master, come and hear how the little beggar-boy can pray. I never in my life heard any one pray so before; it reached my very heart, and I could not keep from shed-ding tears.”

The master hastened with him to the barn; but when they came, Seppeli had already finished his prayer and risen from his knees.

“Good morning,” said the master 4 From where; from which.

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seppeli upon tHe island. 89

to the boy, as he came from the barn; “you may stay with us to-day;” and taking him by the hand, he led him to the house.

Breakfast was just ready as they entered, and Seppeli was asked to sit down with them. While they were eating, they asked him where he came from, who his parents were, what business his father followed, and how he came to leave home. To all their interrogatories5 he gave such satisfac-tory answers, and in such an artless manner, that they were much pleased with him.

“I think,” said the woman to her husband, “we will try to keep him; the times are, indeed, very hard, but one more or less in the family will make but little difference.”

“I am sure,” said the man, “I am satisfied to take him, if he will only be a good boy.”

On the following day, this man, who was a farmer, happened to meet the nobleman, whose handsome mansion was not far distant from his humble house, and whose tenant he was.5 Questions.


“Well, farmer,” said the nobleman, “what news to-day?”

“Nothing of importance, your grace,” replied the farmer. “But yesterday, a very interesting and remarkable boy came to our place, of whom I cannot give you a correct description, and whose history is a very affecting one, indeed.”

“I should like very much to see him,” said the nobleman; “bring him to my house this afternoon.”

“By your leave, sir,” said the farmer.On the afternoon, they accordingly

went to the nobleman’s house. Seppeli felt backward6 in speaking to him, but yet answered all his inquiries in a modest and becoming7 manner. The relation of his parents’ distress, and the cause of his leaving home, made a deep impression upon the minds of the nobleman and his lady, who immedi-ately resolved to take the little fellow under their care, and also to assist his parents in their great distress.

“My lad,” said he to Seppeli, “if you will be industrious and obedient, we 6 Shy.7 Suitable; fitting; decent; attractive.


will give you employment; and we will also send you to school with our chaplain,8 and when you have learned to read, write, and cipher,9 and are older, we may, perhaps, give you a profitable situation.”

The same day, the lady ordered a bed to be prepared for Seppeli in the room in which Jacob the old coachman slept, to whose care he was intrusted. As his clothes and shoes were torn, new ones were provided for him, and in a few days he was ready to go to school with the rest of the children. In school he was very attentive to his lessons, so that he received many marks10 of approbation11 from his teacher, and in the course of eight weeks became quite a good reader. The teacher informed the nobleman of the boy’s diligence and progress, and gave him such recommendations that the nobleman and his lady were highly gratified.12 The old coachman, also, could scarcely praise him sufficiently.

8 Minister; pastor; clergyman.9 Do mathematical calculations.10 Grades.11 Recognition; approval.12 Pleased; satisfied.


“Such a child,” said he, “I have never seen; his prayers would move a heart as hard as a stone: he wishes to learn everything, and feels grateful for the least advice or the smallest favor.”

One day, as he went out into the yard of his own accord to pick up a basket full of chips and bring them into the kitchen, he saw an old beggar-man in the yard who was looking around him very suspiciously, as though he were afraid of being seen. Seppeli, not trusting him, hid himself behind a tree, so that the man could not see him. The old man, thinking no one was near him, picked up an axe, and, hiding it under his coat, was about to go away. Seppeli, however, hastened out another way, and shut the gate on him. When he came to the gate and found it shut, he asked Seppeli to open it for him. But he replied, “Ah! my poor old man, what have you done? No human eye, indeed, saw you, except mine; but God’s eye saw you steal our axe. Don’t you know what a sin it is to steal? Don’t you know that God has said, ‘Thou shalt not steal’?13 13 Exodus 20:15


You were asking for employment, but who would employ a man that steals? Give me back our axe: and if you are in want, and act in this way, how can you look to God to help you? and how can you with a good conscience pray, ‘Lord, give me my daily bread’?14 Become honest and good, and then you can look up to God for aid.”

The old man felt deeply the force of what Seppeli had said, and returned the axe, saying, “Boy, thou art better than I am: I am very sorry for what I have done, and I hope that God, who saw me take what was not my own, will forgive me.”

“That He will,” said Seppeli, “for Christ’s sake, if you ask Him for for-giveness, and seek to become better, and instead of stealing, work in order to support yourself.”

14 Referring to Matthew 6:11.

CHAPTER V.

seppeli desires to see His parents again.

THOUGH Seppeli had every-thing he could wish for on the island, yet he could not forget his dear parents. He

never neglected to remember them and the children in his prayers—yes, he even mentioned each by name. Whenever he passed by a house and heard the family singing and praying, the recollections of former days, spent so happily in his father’s house, were so vivid that he often wept aloud. When the chaplain commended him for his diligence, he remarked, “Oh, if I could only go home once, how gladly


would I read some of these beautiful histories to them!”

The idea that while he had all the necessaries of life, his parents and the children were in want and great distress, was almost insupportable1 to him. He frequently remarked to old Jacob, “Oh, I wish I could give this piece of bread and meat to my brothers and sisters. I know it would do them so much good.”

One afternoon, as the chaplain had spoken to the children in the school of the pressing want in this time of great scarcity, and remembered particularly the poor and distressed in his prayer, Seppeli could not help thinking of his dear parents. “I wonder,” said he to himself, “whether they now have anything to eat? Perhaps they have not had any supper this evening.”

These thoughts occupied his mind so much that he felt himself under peculiar obligations to remember them most earnestly in his prayer. With these feelings he retired to his chamber and, finding himself alone, he knelt down, as was his usual practice 1 Intolerable; unbearable.

seppeli’s parents. 97

before he retired. But it appeared as though his soul was touched from on high by God’s Holy Spirit, for this time he prayed with a fervor and an earnestness with which he never prayed before. He first thanked his God for His kindness toward him in providing him with so good a home, and asked a continuance of His favors; he then remembered his master, the farmer, his teacher, the chaplain, and the old coachman; and then last, but not least, his parents, saying, “But O my God, I pray, especially, have mercy upon my poor parents and their children. You know, O Lord, they are very poor; oh, help them and provide for them; give them bread, and suffer them not to starve, for Jesus’ sake. Amen.” And then commencing again, as though he had forgotten something, he said, “O my God, I would like to see my parents once more; oh, do take me to them; I know my dear mother is wondering where I am, and fretting after me; therefore, O God, as You can do all things, incline the heart of my master, so that he will permit me to visit them, and that he will send some


one to take me over the water. You can tell him better than I can what I want; and if You do tell him, I am sure he will let me go; and give me some-thing to carry home to my parents, who, perhaps, are even now starving. Yes! yes! I know he will let me go, Lord; I would like to live here, but I can scarcely stay any longer without seeing my parents. It seems as though something were pulling me away. O God, comfort me, console my parents, give them bread, and grant that I may soon get to see them. Amen.”

The old coachman, who was in the adjoining room, and had overheard this prayer, related this circumstance, and repeated as much of the prayer as he recollected to the nobleman, adding, at the same time, “I was so much taken up with the fervor of the boy, and the words of his prayer, that I was enraptured, and thought it was an angel that prayed, instead of our shepherd-boy.”

When an individual has anything upon his mind that perplexes and troubles him, and he has a friend in whom he can confide, and to whom he


can reveal his cares, he feels greatly relieved. This was the case with Seppeli: after he had thus poured forth his soul to God, and spread before Him all his cares and sorrows, he retired, and enjoyed a most sound, sweet, and refreshing sleep.

On the following morning, he was awakened very early to assist in some urgent business. He arose at the first call, and was more happy and cheerful than he had been for some time. Being accustomed to yield a ready obedience to the commands of his master, he had no time this morning for prayer, as usual; he therefore merely said, as he was dressing himself, “Dear Lord, this morning I have not much time to pray; therefore I can only thank You that You have preserved me through this night; and I pray that You will remember and answer the petitions which I offered to You last night.”

Seppeli’s prayer did not remain unanswered long, for, on the following day, the nobleman had a letter which he wished delivered to his chaplain, and as Seppeli went to school with him, he thought he would send the


letter by him. He therefore sent for him, and gave him the letter. But as he felt a deep interest in Seppeli, and had great pleasure in conversing with him, he asked him many questions, among others, whether he would not like to see his parents.

“Ah, dear sir,” replied he,” nothing would delight me more, if I could only go home and take them some bread, and my thirty-six kreutzers,2 which I have saved as I received them from time to time; and then I could see my family once more, and would know how they fare. Last night, I dreamed I was at home, and had brought them some money, and bread, and flour, and a frock for the sick little baby; and oh, how glad I was! I wish this dream would come to pass.”

“Do you feel so great a desire to go home?” said the nobleman.

“Yes, sir, I have, indeed,” replied he; “but I would like to come back, if I dare.”

“But could I be certain that you would return?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Seppeli; “I will 2 Coins of little value, formerly used in Austria and Germany.


give you all my school-books, and my new suit of clothes, as a pledge; and I will give you my hand upon it that I will surely come back again.”

“Well, then, you shall go home in a few days. I will take care that your clothes are made ready for you, and will give you a letter to your father, and some things to take home to your parents and the children.”

This unexpected permission to return home, and particularly the promise of the nobleman to give him some provision for his family, rejoiced Seppeli’s heart beyond measure. He took his hand, and kissed it again and again, and said, “May God bless you for your kindness! But how soon may I go?”

His master answered, “You must first have a new coat made. The presents for your parents must be pre-pared, and then I shall have to write a letter to your father. In a few days at most you can go.”

“I will gladly wait so long, because I can then take something home to my poor parents. Oh, how they will rejoice to see me come!”


The nobleman, having sent Seppeli with the letter to the chaplain, re-turned to his mansion and wrote the following letter to Seppeli’s father:

My Worthy Friend: Your much-beloved Seppeli has been with me for about eight weeks, and has in every respect conducted himself with the greatest propriety. He has for some days expressed a great desire to see you all again. His affection for you is so great that he scarcely eats a meal without thinking and speaking of you. The idea that, while he has sufficiency and knows no want, you must endure hunger and live in a great measure upon roots and herbs, distresses him exceedingly. Not a day passes on which he does not pray for you. My wife and I were often so much affected at the recital of his tale of woe and of your sorrows that we were obliged to leave the room bathed in tears. We have become as much attached to him as if he were our own child. My dear friend, permit him to return to us as soon as you can and, when he does, try to accompany him yourself. You shall certainly have no cause to regret your having visited us.My wife joins with me in tendering our

sincere wishes for your welfare.Yours,

N_N_.

Darlene

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Darlene

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Meanwhile, the lady was preparing a new suit for Seppeli and a frock for the little babe, and the tailor was ordered to make a vest for the father, in the pockets of which the nobleman placed some pieces of money. All these things were now neatly folded up and put into one side of a bag, and in the other side were some provisions for Seppeli on his journey, as well as a few articles for his parents and the children. In the middle part of the bag there was nothing, so that he could throw it over his shoulders, and carry it conveniently. The nobleman, having given him some change, which he might need on his journey, now bade him go in God’s name, at the same time saying, “Dear Seppeli, have God continually before your eyes, like Joseph of old, and He will be with you, and lead you in safety to your parents, and then also back again to us.”

Having bade each other an affec-tionate farewell, Seppeli went with the old coachman, who was ordered to take him across the water, and to accompany him some miles upon his journey. After the coachman left him,


he quickened his pace, and though his bundle was rather heavy, yet the expectation of seeing his parents ren-dered it comparatively light, and he almost forgot that he was carrying so heavy a load. The nobleman had given him the names of some acquaintances, with a few lines to each, so that he might have some places to stay, and obtain something to eat and a night’s lodging.

The first night he stayed at a farm-house, where the people were very poor, and could only give him a little milk for supper. Wanting to save his own provisions so that he might have the more left for his parents, he only took a small piece of bread, and broke it into the milk he had received, and upon this he made his supper. The next morning he arose at break of day and, having thanked the people of the house for their kindness, he resumed his journey. More than fifty times did he inquire whether he was on the road to T——; and when he felt a little tired, he thought of home; how rejoiced they would be to see him, and how glad the children would be to receive some of


his bread and meat. This made him forget all his fatigue. On the evening of the third day he reached home and entered the room, just as they were speaking of him. He immediately ran toward his father and kissed him, and then to his mother and kissed her. They were so much overcome by his sudden appearance that they could scarcely speak a word. When they had recovered a little from their surprise, they exclaimed, “Thank God, our lost child is found again. Oh, Seppeli, why did you leave us? Where were you? What have you been doing? How have you been all this while?”

“Mother, don’t be sorrowful,” replied Seppeli. “I know I disappointed you in not coming home again with Fridolin, but I knew that you had scarcely anything to eat; and father, though he worked very hard, scarcely ate any-thing, lest the children might not have enough. I therefore thought I would go and hunt a place as a shepherd-boy, and then there would be one less to eat your bread, and father might then eat a little more. Mother, dear, just as the boy Jesus had to be about His


Father’s business when He left His parents, I knew God had business for me to attend to.”

“But where were you all the time, and what have you been doing? You look so fat and hearty, and are clothed so well!”

“I will tell you all presently, only let me speak to the children first. How do you all do, children? come and shake hands with me.”

Having spoken to them all, and gone to the crib and kissed the little babe who was asleep, he proceeded to open his bag and produce its contents. He first showed them his new suit; and then exhibited the frock for the babe and the vest for his father, with the pieces of silver in each pocket. When they saw all these things the children clapped their hands and danced about the room for joy, but the father, looking up toward heaven, said, in a solemn tone, “Lord, how wonderful are Thy ways! Thy name be praised.”

The mother now, with increased anxiety, asked, “My child, who gave you all these things? I trust you came by them honestly.”


“I will tell you all about it, directly,” replied Seppeli; “only let me get every-thing out of the bag first. He then laid two large pieces of bread on the table, which had been given him as provi-sions for his journey, but which he saved for his parents and the children. And lastly, he counted out his thirty-six kreutzers, which he had saved on the island, and the money which the nobleman had given him as spending money on the way, which, however, he had not needed; he gave it all to his father, saying, “Here, my dear father, buy bread with this; I need no money where I live.”

The bread was now divided among the children; and when his mother wished to give Seppeli a share, he said, “I have eaten enough to-day; give my piece to father, and don’t for-get yourself.”

He now related the particulars of his journey, how he came at last into the neighborhood of Constance, was almost drowned in attempting to wade through the water, and was at last taken over in a boat. He told them, also, how the farmer spoke to


the nobleman about him, and how he at last took him home, sent him to school, and treated him very kindly indeed.

“That you may know all is true that I tell you, I have a letter in my pocket from my master, in which he, no doubt, will tell you the same story.”

Upon this, he produced the letter, and handed it to his father.

“Very good,” said the father; “but I have mislaid my spectacles, and I can’t read it without them.”

“I’ll read it for you,” said Seppeli, “if you wish it, father.”

“Why, can you read?” replied the father, with no small degree of astonishment.

“Oh, yes, I have learnt to read and write already; and if I go away again, I will write a letter to you myself,” answered Seppeli.

He then opened the letter, and while he read it the deepest silence prevailed, not a word, not even a whisper being heard. As Seppeli finished it, the fa-ther, bathed in tears, exclaimed, “The Lord reigneth! The Lord reigneth! and His goodness endureth forever!”


Although it was very late, they sang a hymn and offered up a short prayer before retiring to their beds.

Fridolin was the first who arose the next morning. After washing himself, he softly approached Seppeli’s bed to see if he was awake; and as he found him yet sleeping, he turned to the other children, who by this time had arisen from their beds, and said to them, “Hush, hush, be still, or else you’ll waken brother, who is so very tired that he is asleep yet.”

When they had all arisen, and the morning devotions were over, the young folks surrounded Seppeli and asked him a hundred different ques-tions, which he answered cheerfully, in order to satisfy them.

The mother, having placed a dish of thin soup on the table, called them to breakfast. Seppeli sat at the old place he used to have before he left home, but ate very sparingly. Though the children were not allowed to speak much at the table, yet Fridolin said to his mother, “Why did you make so poor and thin a soup for Seppeli?”

“Be still,” replied Seppeli; “you


must not find fault with what your mother does, nor dare to tell her what she shall do. Our dear mother would certainly have made a much better and richer soup, if she had had the necessary ingredients to put in it.”

The parents now broke a little bread into the bowl, but Seppeli contented himself with the broth, and left the bread for the rest.

On the following Sunday, as they went to church, the father said, “Seppeli you must go with me to the minister’s house after the service, and tell him your history, and let him read the letter of your master.”

“Very well, father,” he replied.During the service, Seppeli was very

attentive to what the preacher said. He had brought with him his hymn-book, which the chaplain had given him as a reward for his industry at school, and sang with the congregation.

Seppeli’s return, which was made public by his being in church with his father, was now as much the subject of conversation with many people as his mysterious disappearance had been before. After worship, many of


his former playmates came and shook hands with him, and in the most friendly manner welcomed him home again. His father now called him, saying, “We must go to the minister now for a few moments.”

And having knocked at the door, their pastor came and invited them in.

“Oh, my lost boy,” said he, “have you returned again? I am very glad to see you; step into my study and sit down.”

Hardly had they been seated a moment before the minister eagerly inquired into his history; and Seppeli gave him so simple and yet so clear and satisfactory an account of all that had transpired since he left home, which was also substantiated by the letter which he gave him to read, that the minister exclaimed, “Surely, the Lord is with the lad, and His provi-dence3 has been extended over him in a marvellous manner.”

They were now invited to stay to dinner; after which, as they were reaching for their hats and preparing to return home, the minister said to 3 Care and guidance.


Seppeli, “You must come over to my house often during your stay with your parents, for I have many things to ask, and as many to tell you.”

Promising to do so, they bade the minister farewell, and returned home.

CHAPTER VI.

seppeli, aCCoMpanied By His fatHer, returns

to tHe island.

AFTER a few weeks had elapsed, Seppeli felt it his duty to return to the island, according to his

promise. His father, however, did not know whether he should accompany him or not. He naturally felt himself under great obligations to the kind nobleman, and yet he did not feel it right to leave his family for so long a time.

He therefore went to ask the minis-ter’s advice on the subject.

“You must go, by all means,” said


his pastor; “you have very little work now; and therefore you may as well go. I will look after your family while you are gone. And, as you have to pass this way, step in, and I will give you a letter to the nobleman, and also to his chaplain. I am well acquainted with both.”

The day of their departure having come, Seppeli took an affectionate leave of his mother, and kissed each of the children in turn. He then, accom-panied by his father, set out upon his journey. The minister, at whose house they stopped, gave them two letters: one to the nobleman, and the other to the chaplain. The contents of the let-ter to the former were as follows:

Most Noble and Honorable Sir: I cannot express to you my feelings, when I received the cheering intelligence that you had taken compassion upon our poor little Seppeli, and condescended1 even to take him into your house and send him to the select school kept by your chaplain. It would appear as though God providentially led him to you, so that he 1 Voluntarily put aside one’s dignity or superiority and assumed equality with one regarded as inferior.

Darlene

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aCCoMpanied By His fatHer. 115

might be specially provided for. I truly believe the boy could not have fallen into better hands, and I also believe your lordship could not have found an object more deserving of your kindness than this poor boy.The boy’s father, who accompanies him to

your island, will be better able to personally give you an account of the sufferings of the poor in our neighborhood than I would be to inform you by letter. Our affliction has been, and is yet, severe; may the Lord have mercy upon us.That the Lord may bless you for your

labors of love toward Seppeli is our ardent wish; and we pray that you may one day hear the words of the blessed Saviour, pronounced by His own lips: ‘Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger, and ye took me in; naked, and ye clothed me.’2

Your humble servant, F. G.

In the letter to the chaplain, there were expressions of thanks—thanks 2 Matthew 25:34-36


for his attention to Seppeli—a request of him still further to interest himself in the boy’s welfare and, in conclu-sion, the most fervent prayer that God might reward him for his kindness and attention to the poor.

After they had received these let-ters, with suitable acknowledgments they arose and were preparing to go, when the minister said, “Sit down and stay a little longer; I wish to re-late a brief history of an old lady and her grandchild, who lived but a few miles from here, of the truth of which there can be no doubt, as I have it from an intimate friend, under whose observation the principal facts have transpired. The history bears some analogy3 to yours, and it may serve to comfort you, and increase your trust in God amidst your wants and difficulties.

“In the village of Z—, which is about twelve miles distant, there lived a poor, old, and truly good woman, who earned her bread by spinning. By being very industrious, she was enabled to make a good livelihood for 3 Similarity.


herself and her little grandchild. But some time since, when the famine began to be severely felt, she was re-duced to extreme distress and want. One day, when their small stock of provisions was nearly exhausted, she sent her little grandchild, a girl of about eleven years of age, to the shops in the village, with a few hanks of thread to sell, and thus obtain a lit-tle money; but the girl soon returned, without having been able to sell any of it.

“‘What shall we do?’ exclaimed the poor old woman; ‘our bread is all gone, and I have but a little flour left.’

“‘I will go to the next village, grandmother,’ replied the child, ‘and see whether I cannot sell some thread there.’

“‘Very well, my dear; if you think you can walk so far, you may go. I have a relative living there; with him you can stay all night; but take care and don’t eat so much when you are there, for they are also very poor, and it is with the greatest difficulty that they can get along. Give my best respects to them, and tell them that I


said that, amidst their distress, they should seek the Lord, and be on their guard that they be not drawn aside from the path of rectitude.’4

“The same day, the little girl arrived in the village, and went from street to street inquiring where her relatives lived, but no one could tell her. Being altogether a stranger in the place, and not knowing what to do, she sat down upon the steps before the door of a large house, and wept bitterly. A servant-girl, who heard her sobbing, approached her, and asked what was the matter. She told her that she was sent to sell some thread, and that she had relatives in the city but could not find them; and now she did not know where to stay all night.

“‘Come with me,’ said the girl; ‘my mistress is very kind to the poor; I am sure she will do something for you.’

“The little girl now rose, wiped her eyes, and went along with her. When the servant presented the little girl to her mistress, and told her the situation in which she was, the lady kindly took her by the hand, and said, ‘Do not be 4 Integrity; principle; uprightness.


uneasy, my child; you shall stay with me; and I will go with you to-morrow, and help you sell your thread.’

“She now inquired more particular-ly into her grandmother’s history, and from all the little girl said, she read-ily learned that the old woman was a pious and devoted person, who sought to train up her grandchild in the way of the Lord, and also accustomed her to habits of industry. After the good lady had gained the confidence of the little girl, and the diffidence5 of the child gradually wore away, the little one said, ‘When I was sitting upon the steps weeping, I prayed to God that He would not forsake me, but bring me to good people, and now He has heard me; and I know my old grandmother has also prayed for me, for she said she would, and she prays so earnestly that the tears run down her cheeks.’

“The lady, seeing the child was fatigued, gave her some supper, and sent her to bed, saying, ‘May you have a good night’s rest, my child.’

“On the following morning, she gave her a good breakfast, some bread 5 Mistrust; shyness; lack of confidence; doubt.


and cheese, and more money than her thread would have sold for. Her joy, as may easily be imagined, was very great; but still greater was the joy and gratitude of the poor old grandmother, when she returned in safety, and brought with her far more than was expected.

“Encouraged by the success of the little girl’s first visit, the grandmoth-er, now without hesitation, often sent her to the city, where she was always kindly received by the good lady.

“Some time after, their provisions being once more nearly exhausted, the grandmother was obliged to send the child to the village again. The day was very blustery and cold, but their wants were imperative,6 and it was necessary for her to go.

“On the way she overheated herself, and then, sitting down to rest, she caught a violent cold. At night she coughed so much that the kind lady at whose house she was staying would scarcely permit her to leave the next morning. But when the little girl said she must go, the lady consented, 6 Essential; urgent; requiring action or attention.


obliging her to promise she would call before she left for home. However, as she did not return, the lady became much concerned about her, not know-ing but that she might have met with an accident. About eight days after, the old grandmother came and in-formed her that the child had become very sick the day she had left her. Not being able to go any farther, she had been taken into a house, in which, providentially, one of the physicians of the hospital happened to be, who immediately had her conveyed to the hospital, and paid every possible at-tention to her, so that she was now rapidly recovering, and would soon be able to pay her a visit.

“The lady was extremely sorry to hear of her illness, but was much rejoiced to learn that she was getting better, and inquired, ‘Do you intend to take her home with you?’

“The grandmother replied, ‘I should like very much to do so, and can scarcely pass my time without her; for when I spin, she sits at my side, knitting or reading, and at night she is accustomed to sleep with me: but it


is impossible for her to go now—she is too weak; and the doctor has promised that as she is so good a child, he will send her home in his carriage. Oh, my dear lady,’ continued the old woman, ‘God has been very good to me. His kind providence has been graciously extended to me and that child: we have often been in the greatest distress, and almost ready to despair; but He has never forsaken us; He has always provided a way of escape, and given us grace to bear our burdens.’

“Thus you see,” said the minister, as he concluded this history, “others have been in as great distress and dif-ficulties as you, and perhaps greater; and yet when they trusted in God, and looked up to Him for aid and support, He brought them safely through; and thus, if you only live nigh7 to Him, He will never leave you, but will provide for you, and guide and support you, in the midst of all you may be called to suffer.”

Seppeli and his father now bade the minister a final adieu,8 and directed 7 Near.8 From Old French: a dieu (vous) commant: I commend you to God; farewell.


their course toward the island.Late on the third day they arrived

at the mansion of the nobleman, who, as well as all the rest, was rejoiced at Seppeli’s return, and especially that his father had come with him.

Seppeli and his father were now called in to supper and, as they were very hungry, and were under no ne-cessity to eat as sparingly as at home, they made a hearty meal. After sup-per, they were invited into the parlor of the nobleman, who asked them very many questions about the family, the distress in the country, how Seppeli got home, whether he took home safely all that was given him, or whether anything was lost or injured.

“Yes, sir,” replied Seppeli’s father, “he brought all—and did not even spend a cent of the money you gave him for the journey. He even brought some of the provisions you gave him to eat on the road, and divided it among his brothers and sisters.”

“You are a good boy,” replied the nobleman, as he took Seppeli by the hand; “I hope you will continue so. As it is, however, a late hour, and you


must be fatigued, you may now go to bed.”

After Seppeli had retired, the nobleman said to his father, “You have a remarkable child. I feel a deep interest in his welfare, and with your permission will take him into my fam-ily, provide for him, and educate him. Perhaps I may have an opportunity of setting him up in some advantageous business. What do you say? Are you willing?”

“You are too condescending and kind,” replied the father. “How could I withhold my assent!9 Truly, surely, he shall stay; and a thousand thanks to you from his poor father and mother.”

As Seppeli’s father tarried some days, the nobleman had a suit of clothes made for him, and gave him some presents for his family.

Seppeli was so much rejoiced when he perceived the kindness shown to his father that he could not refrain from shedding tears of joy.

When his father started homeward, Seppeli accompanied him a short distance and, as they parted, the old 9 Agreement.


man most affectionately and fervently entreated his son to remember the instructions he had received—to live near to God, to be honest, obedient, and industrious—assuring him that in this way only the blessing of God could rest upon him.

On the third day, Seppeli’s father reached his home, and was heartily welcomed by his family. He relieved their anxiety by telling them of the kind reception he had met with from the nobleman, the favors he had re-ceived, and the bright prospects which were before the boy; and to increase their happiness, he produced the pre-sents he had received.

As our readers by this time are no doubt anxious to know the result of this history, we will inform them that the nobleman generously assisted this family during the continuance of the famine—that Seppeli, by his upright deportment and unaffected piety, gained for himself, not only the con-fidence and esteem of the nobleman, but of all who knew him, and was af-terward comfortably settled in life. In this modest history we have another


evidence of the truth that:“The deliverance of the righteous is

from the LORD; he is their stronghold in the time of trouble. The LORD helps them and delivers them; he delivers them from the wicked and saves them, because they take refuge in him.”10

THE END.

10 Psalm 37:39:40

Darlene

Sticky Note

Please change the second colon to a hyphen: Psalm 37:39-40

Darlene

Sticky Note

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The Parable of The Two MillsTones

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CharaCTer TraiTs: industriousness; forgiveness; prayerfulness.

the parable of the two millstones

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