Mou-Setsé: A Negro Hero; The Orphans' Pilgimage: A Story of Trust in God

“But that is so far away, and we have no money: and then, how should we know the way?” asked Hans anxiously.

“The little birds fly away in the winter to Africa – God shows them the way, and gives them strength and food; and shall not we trust Him to help us his children?”

It was all clear to Hans now, and the bold resolve was made.

From that time the two boys thought of little else than the intended escape. The sight of their little darling pining away before their eyes nerved them to plan and to work. Preparations were carried on in secret: no one having any idea of what was going on. A little playfellow lived close by whose father was a carpenter, and being often in the man’s workshop, he came to have a liking for the orphans; and many a spare piece of wood he gave them to play with, which, by watching him at work, they learned in their rude way to fashion into shape. They now began to put the small knowledge they had thus acquired to some account; and after many attempts and failures, at last succeeded in making a rough sort of little cart. The cover of a box with a rail round it formed the seat, the pole was a cast-off measuring-rule which had been thrown away as useless; but when they came to the wheels, they had need of all the patience they possessed; however, perseverance in due time was rewarded, when, after devoting every spare moment they could secure, the little carriage which was to effect their escape was finished. How happy they felt when the finishing touch was put, when it was drawn away to a corner of the yard behind the workshop, and hidden among a heap of sawdust and shavings! A heavy burden seemed lifted off their hearts: they dreamt not of any future difficulties, and only looked forward with eagerness to the moment when they should be free, and when the roses would come back again to their little sister’s cheeks.

All was now in readiness: that very evening they were to start on their pilgrimage, leaving the shelter of their uncle’s house, together with his tyranny, behind them. It was time for Nanny to be let into the secret; and, having done this, the two boys, kneeling down, drew her between them and prayed, “O Lord, send a good angel to help us, and keep uncle from waking when we go away.”

They had fixed on an evening when they had not to appear in public. All had retired to rest early, and they waited only till they thought it would be safe. The boys then arose, and, dressing themselves quickly, made up a small bundle of clothes, and having lifted the precious picture from the wall, and their father’s Bible from the box, they proceeded to summon Nanny. This was of all the most anxious part, for she had from the first slept in her aunt’s room. Her little ears, however, were on the alert, and a gentle tap as signal made her leap lightly out of bed, and with shoes in hand and her clothes on her arm, she was in a moment at the door. It was bolted: and how could she reach it? Standing on tiptoe did not help her. So, quickened by fear, no time was lost in getting a chair and mounting on it, the bolt was quickly drawn, and in a moment’s time the child was at her brothers’ side, pale and trembling. And now came a new dilemma, the house door was locked, and the key in their uncle’s room. Here, however, their gymnastic training stood them in good stead, and their bedroom window being not far from the ground, they jumped out of it, and alighted safely on the pavement.

The little cart was next brought from its place of concealment. Nanny, wrapped in her cloak, took her seat in it, and the book and picture being laid at her feet, and the bundle serving as a cushion at her back, the children set out on their unknown way. It was quite dark. They had not gone very far when they encountered the watchman with his horn and lantern. Throwing the light full on the strange group, he cried —

“Halt! who goes there?”

“Good friends,” promptly answered the elder of the boys; when the man, with a kindly smile, let them pass without further inquiry.

Story 2 – Chapter II

In due time they had got clear of the town, and were trotting along a straight country road as fast as their feet would carry them. Whether the Tyrolese mountains lay to the right or left, before or behind them, they knew not nor seemed to care. They had left their cruel uncle, and the mere thought of this made them happy. They were but little children, and did not reflect on any dangers they might have to encounter.

It was in the dim twilight of early morning that they happened to meet a woman driving a cart filled with cans of milk which she was taking to the town. A sudden thought seemed to strike Toni, for, going straight up to her, he said —

“Please, mother, can you tell us the way to the mountains?”

“To the Tyrolese mountains?” answered the woman, in a tone of astonishment, standing still, and looking at the group with much interest. Perhaps she had children of her own, and pictured them as little wanderers like those before her. “You are all right so far,” she continued, “for a sister of mine left me to go there but the other day, and drove straight along this road. I watched her till she was out of sight. I am afraid I cannot direct you further. But what do you three children want there?” she inquired.

“We are going to look for grandfather,” Nanny answered in haste, “and he will give us some breakfast, for we are so hungry.” At these last words she cast a longing glance at the milk cans.

“So hungry, are you?” said the woman, looking at her with real motherly tenderness; then taking out a tin measure, she filled it to the brim, and putting it into her hands, said, “Drink it all up, my dear; and it is milk from a Tyrolese cow, too,” she added, smiling. “And we must not forget your good horses. Will they take milk too, I wonder?” offering one of the boys a full can, which she filled a second and a third time. Then she drove on, scarcely giving the children time to thank her.

“It was God sent us our breakfast,” said Toni. “Father used to say that He sees us, though we cannot see Him, and knows what we are in want of as well as we do ourselves. But now the sun is rising, and we must ask Him to take care of us to-day.”

Nanny stepped out of her little carriage, and under a wide-spreading beech-tree, the branches of which overshadowed them, the children knelt down, and in their own simple way entreated God’s blessing.

Just at that moment the sun, like a ball of fire, rose above the horizon and shed over them his golden beams. We can fancy how lovely everything must have appeared to these little ones, who had never known the beauties of sunrise in the country.

“It seems as if God was holding his shining hand above us and blessing us,” said Toni.

“Oh, how pretty!” exclaimed Hans. “Everything about us is so bright; even the very stones; and the little blades of grass look covered with diamonds, but it is the dew which God sends to refresh them. How good He is! He cares for the plants as well as for us, but He made them, so they are His children too.”

“And look at this,” cried Nanny, full of glee, taking up an acorn cup; “only see what a large drop of dew inside – it must be a bath for the tiny insects.”

Whirr, whirr – up flew a bird from its nest.

“Ah, have I frightened you, you poor little thing?”

“That must be a lark,” said Toni; “look how high it flies, singing all the time; up and up it goes as if it meant to go right up to heaven.”

“Greet father and mother for me, pretty bird,” cried Hans, “for they are in heaven.”

“Yes, yes, and for Nanny too,” said the little maiden; and touching the tips of her small fingers with her lips, she threw them up as if wafting the kisses upward.

“Perhaps the lark will carry our prayers to God,” said Hans.

“Oh no,” replied his brother, looking very thoughtful. “God does not need any messenger to take our prayers to Him, for He is always with us; and even if we just think in our hearts what we wish to ask Him, He knows it all quite well. Father said He was close by at all times.”

“Hark what a pretty song the lark is singing! What a pity we cannot hear what it is about!”

“I will tell you, Nanny, what I fancy he would say,” said Toni. ”‘I thank the good God that He has given me wings, so that I can fly up to the blue sky, and that He has made the sun so warm, and the fields so green and soft where I build my nest.’”

“That is nice, Toni. But listen! there is a bee humming as it flies by. What does it say, do you think?”

“Well, perhaps it is buzzing, ‘Praise God that He lets me rove from flower to flower to sip the dew and gather honey, and that I am such a happy little bee.’”

“Now then,” continued the little girl, “there is a large caterpillar creeping along on the ground. It cannot say anything; it neither sings nor hums.”

Toni was silent a moment; then taking both Nanny’s hands into his, he went on, “I was just thinking, my dear little sister, of something mother used to tell me about that. The caterpillar thinks, perhaps, ‘I certainly am not so beautiful now as many other things in the world, but I have life and can enjoy it. I thank God for that; and some day, when I am tired, He will teach me how to spin myself a cradle in which I may lie down and sleep; then, when I am quite rested, God will come and wake me, and instead of creeping slowly on the ground I shall fly up a lovely thing with wings.’”

“And then, you know,” said Hans, following out his mother’s words, which his brother had recalled, “it will be with our parents something like this butterfly, for first they lived on earth, then God laid them down to sleep in the churchyard, and at last He will come and wake them, and they will be happier and more beautiful than they ever were before.”

“How can you tell what the birds and insects think about?” said Nanny, looking inquiringly into her brother’s face.

“Of course we can only fancy it all,” Toni replied; “but mother often talked about these things, and taught us to be kind to dumb creatures, and never to hurt even the smallest insect that God had made, because they can feel as well as we; and then she would tell us so many pretty stories of their different ways, that it makes me think sometimes they must have some sort of reason like human beings. But now step in, Nanny; we must not talk any longer, but go on our way, or we shall never reach grandfather’s.” The little one settled herself comfortably in the cart, her brothers harnessed themselves once more, and away they went.