Part 2

"Shaking the old man's hand, George began bounding up the hill, thinking to himself that it was quite possible for those who had no money to do acts of charity if they would.

"Scarcely had he proceeded ten paces, when a number of people met him, crying out, as loud as they could, 'The wolf! The wolf!'

"'Where is the wolf?' cried George, begin-fling to tremble with alarm.

"'On the top of the hill, running toward the old chapel.'

"'O my goat, my goat,' said George, 'how shall I be able to help my poor mother now?'

"He thought not of his own danger, as he hastily ascended the hill; when he gained its summit, surprise and joy filled his heart. The goat was alive and unhurt, though struggling to free herself from the cord which bound her. The door of the chapel was closed, and the head of the wolf, its eyes glowing with rage, and the foam flying from its mouth, was seen through one of the grated windows.

"When the wolf saw George, it renewed its effort to burst the iron bars, but the goat became still, and began to bleat for joy. How the affair had happened was this: When the wolf scented the goat, and spied her at the door, he suddenly sprang towards her—she retreated into the chapel, but as she was tied fast to the door, which opened inwards, she could not advance, and turned aside to conceal herself behind the open door. The wolf having for a moment lost sight of her, ran into the chapel, which the goat perceiving, rushed out, and pulled the door by the string after her, thus making a prisoner of the wolf.

"George stood for a few moments in great surprise, caressing his goat and looking at the monster shut up within the chapel. But soon he was disturbed by a number of persons, all rudely armed, ascending the hill. It seemed that the prince of the country had offered ten gilders to any one who should take the wolf alive or dead, and all were anxious to secure the prize. With them came the old man that George had so recently assisted, armed with a long sharp hunting-knife.

"'The reward is yours,' he said to George, 'our gracious prince will undoubtedly bestow it upon you.'

"'In that case,' George answered, 'I can buy a cow for my mother, and then you shall have the goat. If I had not met you at the chapel, I should have untied my goat, instead of leaving it there alone, and most likely have fallen a victim to the fury of the monster. I should have lost my goat, and my life too.'

"While they were yet speaking, the wild strain of a bugle horn was heard, and then the deep bay of the hounds, and then the shouts of men, and then a gay cavalcade came riding up the hill, led by the Knight Ulrich. A loud shout broke from the crowd—a shout which was replied to by the hunting-party—

"'Stand back,' cried the knight, 'what of our old enemy the wolf?'

"We have him here, so please your worship,' said one of the crowd, 'and this good lad has taken him alive.'

"'What! Another David?' cried the knight. 'Well-done, my brave boy, you may yet wear golden spurs. You have done a noble deed.'

"Young Conrad, who rode at his father's side, smiled upon the young peasant, who stood still with the goat beside him. The knight rode up to the window of the chapel.

"'True, beyond a doubt,' said he, 'the wolf is surely there; the stoutest brute I have ever seen. How shall we serve him?'

"One of the party suggested that in order to avoid endangering human life, the best plan would be to starve the wolf to death; but the knight spurned the proposal:

"'No, no; let us have fair and honorable sport. We are no cowards, and while we have strong hands and sharp lances, the brute shall fall by forest law!'

"In those days there was nothing the knights loved so well, next to a battle, as a good bear or wolf hunt. And hunting a wolf, was really rendering good service to the state, and thankful enough the farmers were that the brave knights would do it. It was better, far better, than hunting the dappled roe, or the timid hare, better than going forth with hawks and hounds to the sport of falconry—better, a thousand times better, than doing fierce cruel work on battle-fields.

"How the horses pawed the ground, while the noble creatures tossed their heads and champed upon the bit, and seemed to cry 'hurra!' as the men, the servitors and pages, gathered round with brightening looks, and whispered cheerful words, and poised their lances in the air ready to take deadly aim.

"'Now,' cried the knight, 'if any man is unwilling for the fray, let him fall back; I would not force a man to risk life or limb for me.'

"Force them!—As if they wanted forcing! Why, there was not a man there, but was as ready as the knight could be himself to see the end of Master Wolf.

"The crowd pressed closer, and George's eyes grew bright. Now the wolf, the cruel wolf was to be slain; he clenched his hands, and a bright flush was on his cheeks, as he waited to see what would be the end of it.

"That group was one of the most curious pictures you ever saw. There were many of the peasants in their simple homely dress: shepherds from the sheepcotes; and tillers of the ground; and old Martin the miller—a great stout man, nearly as broad as he was long; and the smith, the strong, sturdy, horny-handed farrier; and there, too, was the gallant retinue of the count, in all the glitter of silk and gold, green silk and golden lace in vast abundance; and there was Conrad in his tightly-fitting suit of purple velvet, mounted on his neat little white horse, and balancing his lance as if he had been used to the sport for fifty years or more; and there, too, was the knight himself, a really noble-looking gentleman. The knight and his retinue contrasted strangely with the humble group of peasants, and especially with the old man, to whom George had lent help, and with George himself, as he stood there, with his pretty piebald goat by the side of him.

"The old man placed the long sharp knife in George's hand, and led aside the goat. Conrad, delighted beyond measure, was poising a lance in the air, and galloping from place to place, quite overjoyed. The peasants shrank back in dismay, as the knight gave the word of command:

"Quick! Fall into order, let whoever has courage open the door!'

"There was a momentary pause, and then one of the huntsmen, armed with a lance, cast back the stout oaken door. There was no sign or sound from within.

"'Send in the dogs,' cried the knight.

"The mandate was obeyed. A wild howl was heard from within—the sound re-echoed from the vaulted roof.

"'He comes! He comes!'

"'We shall have fine sport,' said Conrad.

"Scarcely had he spoken when the enraged monster rushed forth; the spear of the knight severely wounded him; the horse which Conrad bestrode, reared and plunged; the young count was thrown to the ground, and the wolf sprang on him.

"A cry of dismay arose, a cry that was heard far and near, when suddenly George leapt upon the wolf with his sharp knife, and buried its shining blade in the neck of the monster—a stream of dark blood gushed out, and quivering and convulsed, the animal fell dead. The cry of dismay was changed into a shout of triumph—a shout in honor of the heroic boy. The crowd pressed around him, extolling his courage, and praising his zeal, everybody lauding his bravery to the skies.

"'Green boughs in your helmets and bonnets,' cried the knight, with a cheer; 'so shall every robber perish. The lad has acted nobly, and to him Conrad owes his life.'

"The crowd now began to gather round the wolf, which lay at the knight's feet.

"'Not for the whole world,' said the knight, 'would one of you come near the monster while living, but now that this good youth has shown true courage, and slain the brute, you can venture near enough. Ay, look at his terrible jaws, look at his sharp teeth, look at his shaggy paunch, look at his enormous length.'

"The bailiff, who was one of the hunting-party, now asked the knight whether George was to receive the promised reward.

"'Assuredly,' said the knight; 'come hither, good youth, and I will pay the money down at once.'

"He counted the guilders into the boy's hand.

"'This,' said he, 'is the reward offered by our prince; here is another on my own account;' and he handed him a well-filled purse, bright with new coins.

"The old man now stepped forward and told how George had made him a present of the goat, and how kind and good the lad had behaved.

"'Why,' said the knight, 'surely I have some recollection of you; did you not serve under me in the wars?'

"'I did.'

"'Here are some golden crowns; truly this George is a fine fellow—something more must be done for him. Here, my good youth, to-night you shall lodge in my castle, and to-morrow my people shall see you safely home.'

"The knight turned to a page who was near him, and bade him dismount, and lend his horse to the gallant little hero who had saved the count's life. The boy readily obeyed, and George mounted the pony and rode on with the rest.

"Oh how proud and happy he felt at that moment!

"'Your name, good lad,' asked the knight, 'I have learnt is George—and a good name; you have the courage of your saintly name-sake, who, as the story goes, slew the dragon centuries ago.'

"The boy smiled.

"'Jesting apart, dear boy,' the knight went on, 'you have acquitted yourself better than many and many an older hand would have done.'

"'I have only done my duty,' said George.

"'Rightly spoken; if we all did that, this world of ours would be a better and a nobler place; your duty! Fairly put; but had you no fear?'

"'Fear,' repeated the boy, 'no, I had none; I never thought of fear, I never thought of danger; I only saw that the young knight was in jeopardy, and I did what I could to help him; I would have done the same for the simplest peasant boy that ever lived: I really mean it, noble sir.'

"'I am sure you do; those eyes of yours were not meant for deceit, nor that voice for lying; you have done a noble action, and your words are worthy of it.'

"So with that the knight relapsed into silence, and the procession went on its way.

"The castle was a noble structure, and its gray battlemented turrets were soon in sight. George had often seen it before, but now he looked upon it with new and strange emotions. He was to enter; to ride over the clanking drawbridge, under the dark arch, and see—what he had often longed to see—the splendors which those walls shut in. So, on they rode into the broad court-yard, and then dismounted.

"In the hall of the castle stood the Lady Adelaide, anxiously awaiting her lord's return. She was a fine, tall, handsome woman, clothed in costly attire; the jewels on her dress made George's heart tremble with surprise.

"She threw her arms around her husband's neck and kissed him on both cheeks—tears were in her eyes—tears of joy, as she did so.

"Tenderly she embraced her son, and then turning to George, inquired, not with words, but by a glance, how and why the boy was there, and the old soldier his companion.

"'This noble lad,' said the knight, 'has done us both good service.'

"The countess smiled upon the lad, and oh, that smile, it seemed better to him than all the guilders that the knight had given to him.

"'Rendered us both good service,' repeated the knight, 'in rescuing Conrad from a violent death.'

"The countess uttered a half-suppressed scream.

"'He has slain an old enemy, and brought back an old friend.'

"'An enemy,' said the countess, 'how is this: I cannot understand it?'

"'Enemy enough, full surely,' said the knight, 'none other than the wolf!'

"'Thank God for that!'

"'Amen: but let us not forget the instrument He has used.'

"So the knight told the whole story of the wolf's capture and death, not forgetting to mention how the lad had purchased a goat for his mother in place of the cow whom the wolf had slain, and how he had afterwards made a present of it to the old soldier, when his mother no longer required it.

"The countess praised the boy for his courage; she thanked him again and again for having saved the life of her son, and said:

"'I would that Conrad was more like you in his temper and disposition; it would be of greater honor to him than all the gold lace on his clothes.'

"There was great feasting in the hall that night, and the merriest company that you can well conceive. When the hour of rest came, the boy was led to a comfortable chamber, and left alone. What did he do first?"

"Looked about him on his new lodging?"

"Not at all."

"Began to speculate," said Henry, "on what had happened."

"Not at all."

"Why, what did he then, grandpa?"

"He knelt down and prayed, and thanked God for all his goodness toward him and his.

"The countess had received the boy very cordially, and asked him many questions, for she thought the mother who had reared such a son must be a superior woman. George's answers delighted her; and after having given the highest praise, she had taken leave of him in the most gracious and affectionate manner.

"When he had retired for the night, she addressed her son, young Conrad:

"'I am very glad you are sensible of the worth and goodness of the lad who has saved your life. That wolf was very near giving us another and a different tale to tell. Your impatience and disobedience had nearly sent you to the grave, and plunged both your father and myself in the deepest woe. God, however, has preserved you, and directed all for the best. O that you in your smart doublet would imitate that boy in the fustian dress! O that you were less like your present self and more like him!'

"Then she turned to her husband and said:

"'I am now more convinced than ever, that the most essential thing for parents is to bring up their children in the fear and love of God, to make them submissive and respectful to their parents. Recollect the commandment, "Honor thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee:" and the injunction, "Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right"—and not only so, but to teach them to be respectful, and kind, and generous to all their neighbors.

"'To effect this, the first, the essential point, is to teach them to subdue and control their self-willed and unruly inclinations. The heart of the child is like the ploughed field: thorns and thistles must be torn out before it can produce fruitful corn. This is of equal necessity in all children, whether born under the thatch, or beneath the gilded dome; whether destined to hold the plough, the quill of office, or the sword.'

"The countess was right, dear children, in all that she said. George would never have been the good lad that he was—for he was a good lad, and I do not wish to deny it—except it had been for the teachings of his mother. Under God, he owed it all to her. To her prayers, to her teachings, all that he did is to be traced—she had taught him industry, kindness, and a desire to help those who needed help, and above all other things, to look to God; and by God's blessing, he profited by her instruction. The good seed sown in his heart, sprung up to God's glory.

"The news of her son's good fortune soon reached the widow. At first she refused to believe a word of it, for she could not think it possible that George, who never followed the hunt, who never used lances, or bows and arrows, and who never even killed a little bird; who was even a boy still, not even a young man, could kill so terrible a brute.

"'Surely,' she said, 'this story is a pure invention. Sorry am I to find that I am so treated; it almost brings the tears into my eyes.'

"The more she thought about it, the more incredible the tale appeared. Her grief for her loss was stirred up afresh; but at last adown the village street came George himself, driving the sleekest, handsomest cow you ever saw, and one of the castle's servants with him; and from his own lips she learned the story of his bravery. The widow was greatly amazed, and falling on the neck of her son, wept bitterly; but not with grief—they were tears of joy that she was shedding, and her widowed heart began to sing for joy.

[Illustration]

"George took his mother by the hand and led her outside the door.

"'Come out and see the cow which our good friend Knight Ulrich has sent to you; I am sure you will be pleased with the present.'

"Pleased! Ay, that she was, dear heart, and kissed her son again and again, as the servant retold the story of his courage.

"'This cow,' said the man, as he patted its sleek hide, 'is the best in the stall; I am very sorry to lose her, but I know that she is falling into good hands; I recollect what good care you took of your old cow: she was the best cow in these parts, except the one I bring you.'

"Margaret overwhelmed the man with thanks.

"'Yes,' said she, 'it is a beautiful cow; look at its shiny hide, look at its well-formed horns, look at its soft, loving eyes—surely there never was such a cow before or since. O, I cannot thank the knight enough for this kind present. How can I show my gratitude?'

"'Nay,' the man answered, 'this is but a part of the reward which your son is to receive. He has done the country good service, and well deserves all that he gets.'

"Margaret offered the servant money, but the honest man replied that his master had strictly forbidden him to accept any gratuity.

"'My good lady,' he said, 'has already given me for this very journey more money than I could think of accepting from you. Farewell. God's blessing be on you.'"

"What a fortunate thing it was," said Henry, "that the goat should have been tied to the door of the old ruin; how lucky it was for George."

"Dear child," said grandpa, "fortune and luck had nothing to do with it."

"Nothing to do with it, grandpa? Why was it not luck, and good luck too, that it all turned out so well; I am sure it must have been."

"There was no luck in it, child; it was something far different from that."

"What was it then, grandpa?" asked Henry seriously.

"It was God's providence."

"That was what I meant, grandpa," said Henry.

"My dear child, there is a wonderful difference between the two things; one is real and the other is not—one true and the other false—there is no such thing as what you call luck, or fortune, in the world."

"I have seen," said Amy, "an old print called 'Fortune scattering her Favors,' just as we scatter flowers in the summer."

"Exactly; but it is only a heathenish notion."

"I know that, grandpa, and knew that at the time."

"And this Luck, this Fortune, had she her eyes wide open?"

"No, grandpa, a tight bandage was over both her eyes. She could not see at all; as blind as when we play at blindman's buff."

"Just so," said the grandfather, "and this is the wide distinction. People who have not learnt to put their trust in God, ascribe their success in life, or the misfortunes they may meet with, to blind fortune, who neither sees nor understands who are they to whom she deals her favors—her blanks or prizes in her lottery.

"But the Bible has taught us something better than this. It tells us that the great God ruleth over all things; that he who counteth the stars hath numbered the hairs of our heads; that he who gave the angels all their brightness, clothed the lily and the violet, and painted all the flowers of summer. That he overrules everything; governs all, directs all, controls all; great and small, old men and babes, kings and emperors and pauper children; that our happiness, or adversity and misfortune, are not the results of blind fortune, or dead chance, but the will of the Mighty One who made heaven and earth. But to proceed.

"So the widow and her son went back into the cottage, after putting the cow into the stall, and giving her plenty of hay, which for some time past had been suffered to lie waste. When indoors, Margaret sat down before her spinning wheel, and again began to weep for joy; the good news had shaken her as much as if it were a gift of terror. She felt weak and exhausted. Again and again she made George repeat the story of his prowess.

"'Dear George,' said she, 'you have followed my advice, and you have reaped the benefit of doing so. You have placed your hopes in God, and He has been your friend; you have been kind and charitable to men, and they have been good and generous to you. True religion is loving God and loving man, and holiness is only another name for happiness. Let us thank God for all things, and do you, my dear son, still continue to acknowledge the Lord in all your ways. They that wait upon the Lord shall not want any good thing. "Never saw I the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread!"'

"Well, the knight took George into his service, and he rose in favor and influence with his master. He always remembered the injunctions of his mother, who lived happy and comfortable for many a year."

"Thank you, thank you a thousand times grandpa, it is a beautiful story," said Amy.

"So it is indeed," said Henry, "and I cannot help thinking how good came out of evil."

"Right, my boy," responded grandpa, "we should indeed remember that; what says the beautiful text in that comfortable chapter in the Romans? 'For we know—'"

Amy repeated—

"'That all things work together for good to them that love God.'"

"Yes, dear children, that should always make us trustful. Let us keep this steadily in view; God cares for us. We may meet with trouble and adversity, but this should be our consolation, God cares for us. His love never grows cold, his eyes neither slumber nor sleep. And he is working. All these changing fortunes, these painful sufferings, these beds of sickness, these death-partings, these trials of poverty, and so on, are working together for good. Viewed singly we cannot understand them; viewed together, they tell the story of God's handiwork.