CHAPTER I.

THE RAFT.

THE Fichtel-Gebirge, or Fir Mountains, in Bavaria, have been compared to the garden of Eden, because four rivers rise in their midst, which were once supposed to be rich in gold, and to abound in precious stones. Some of the poor people in this region have been known to search diligently, hoping to find treasures concealed in the beds of the Maine, Eger, Saale, or Naab, which would enrich them, so that they might dispense with hard labour and dwell in luxury for the remainder of their days. But only a few peasants indulged in such dreams. For the most part, the people were, and are, employed in felling the forest trees, laying out new plantations, and burning charcoal.

Hans Richter was a wood-cutter and charcoal-burner; he was but a poor man, as far as this world's goods were concerned, but he was rich towards God, for he had a large store of faith and earnest trust in his Heavenly Father. In fact, in his simple way, he scarcely knew what care meant, just because he realised these words in their full meaning, and not in a halfhearted manner—"Casting all your care upon Him, for He careth for you." He had but little book knowledge, and could with difficulty spell out the words of his Bible, but he could pray: he could talk to his God as he went about his daily work, or as he watched the charcoal smouldering. And he learnt so easily, and had such a good memory that he made many of the rich promises contained in God's Word his own.

Richter was a widower with one son, a lad of fifteen, who was a great solace to him. Young Hans was a tolerable scholar, for during the winter months the forest life was exchanged for a cottage in a little village, and then he went to school, and applied himself to study so eagerly that he acquired more information in the five winter months than his fellow-companions who attended the classes regularly all the year round.

When our story opens, Hans Richter was suffering from a severe cold. The winter had been a trying one, and money so scarce that very often he could not afford to heat his stove. The long illness of his wife, and her subsequent death, exhausted his resources, and incurred some debts which he had only just paid off. In spite of these trials, he did not lose his faith in God, but hoped that the spring and summer work would be plentiful, and that the united efforts of himself and son would enable him once more to accumulate a little hoard for future needs.

The snow had disappeared, and the firs looked green and fresh when Richter and his son gave up their room in the village, removed to the forest, and erected their hut. It did not take them long to build up their summer dwelling-house, it was so simply constructed. The shape of it was conical, and the poles with which it was made were covered with the bark of the fir-tree. This rude hut served to shelter them from storm and wind. It stood about two miles from the village to which they had to go in order to buy bread and other necessaries.

Richter did not remove all his household goods, though they were few enough, to his hut. He left some of his furniture in the care of the poor woman with whom he lodged during the cold weather, and only carried to the forest such articles as were absolutely needed.

"Father," said young Hans, some three weeks after the hut was completed, "you look very tired this afternoon, and seem so weak; lie down and rest, while I go to work. Carl and Wilhelm will come when they have finished their dinners, and we can get along quite well without your help."

"I am very tired, my boy," answered Richter. "I cannot tell you exactly why, but I have never been the same since your mother died, and I think the cold of last winter injured me. Your young bones are not so tender as mine, for you can run about and warm yourself; my cough prevents me from taking sharp exercise, and lately it has hurt my chest. But don't look so sad, Hans; if my Heavenly Father wants me home, I am ready to go. And I am not afraid of leaving you alone, for He will not forsake the orphan, but care for you as He has cared for me. I'll have a sleep while you cut down the branches of your fir; you'll manage to do that easily when Carl and Wilhelm come. But wait for me before you set to work on the trunk."

"Is it to go to Kösen, father?"

"Yes; it is the last one we have to fell to complete the order sent by the Burgomaster. I shall take you with me to Kösen so soon as the raft is ready. When your mother was living, I did not like to leave her alone for so many days, but now I shall be glad of your help. One pair of hands cannot guide a large raft through the twists and turns of the Saale. You've had good practice in your time, my boy, and I think are as clever as your father."

"I want to see Kösen," answered Hans. "I've never been so far; and I've heard it's such a pretty little village."

"It is a town, lad; the people were anxious enough to have it made into one, thinking they would have more privileges, but all they seem to have gained is having to pay heavier taxes and support a Burgomaster, to whom they give a regular annual income."

"There is more to be seen and learnt in a town than in our tiny village, or among these fir-trees," said Hans.

"Perhaps for you, but not for me. I spent some of my early years at Leipzie, yet I was glad when my father accepted the post of head forester, and we came to our quiet little village for the winter, and lived in the forest during the fine weather."

"But then, father, you had good reason to be glad; you have often told me about your early life."

"Yes, lad; I never grow weary of telling you how I learnt to know the Lord. I was a stranger to Him before, and so was your grandfather. Your mother first taught us there was a better world to live for than this. But I needed sorrow to make me think. It was on the day that your darling sister died I prayed my first prayer, and promised to give myself to my Master's service. Ah, lad, such a world of care has been moved off my shoulders since then!

"How well I remember starting on a raft down the Saale some few days after that blessed hour when I cried, 'I am not my own, Lord, for Thou hast redeemed me with Thy precious blood, and I give myself to Thee.'

"Your mother came to see me off, holding you, who were a baby about a year old, in her arms. Before I unchained the raft, I kissed her and said, 'Good-bye! Take care of yourself, and our only little one.'

"'Good-bye, my dear husband,' she replied; 'stick to the raft, and mind how you pass the weir at Kösen. How glad I am to think that there's another Raft you'll stick to besides this one; a Raft which cannot come to any harm, but which will support you in the deepest waters and amid the fiercest storms, when the sun shines, and when the rain falls.'

"I looked at her in astonishment, for I didn't catch her meaning.

"But she soon cleared up the mystery, for she added, 'I mean the Lord Jesus Christ; stick to that Raft, and pray for His Spirit to guide you.'

"It was a good saying of hers, Hans; I've never forgotten it, and I have ever called out to any one who was guiding a raft, 'Stick to it.' And what's more, if I have an opportunity, I tell them there is a heavenly Raft to stick to as well as fir-stems, and I say, 'Hold on to the Saviour, forget self, and cling to God's promises in Christ.'

"Hans, lad, as a sinking man would hug his raft if any accident upset him in the river, so I beseech you cling to Jesus. Don't forget my words. Now go to your work, and I will rest."

Richter closed his eyes wearily when his son left him. "Some day soon I shall fall into the sleep that knows no waking. But when my summons comes, I shall go gladly, and without fear," he murmured. "O Father, for Christ's sake, make my boy true to Thee."

The sun set, and yet the sick man slept heavily, nor did he rouse up to take his supper.

After young Hans had finished his day's work, he watched his father for some time, and then he too fell into a sound slumber. The morning was breaking when the lad was awakened by hearing his name called. He was in time to catch his father's last words.

"I am dying," gasped Richter; "the end has been coming for some time, but I have fast hold of the Raft, Hans; I am not afraid of crossing the river; I hold my Saviour's hand, and He holds mine. I can say truly, 'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.' Stick to the Raft, my boy; stick to the Raft."

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