CHAPTER III.

KARL SCHMIDT.

EVERY raft which passes through Kösen has to pay duty, and therefore the little four-roomed cottage built on the banks of the Saale just above the weir is inhabited by the toll-master.

Karl Schmidt had served in this capacity at Kösen for many years. He was a quaint, queer, strange-looking man, rough in his manners, but with a good honest heart beneath a rather unpleasing exterior. He had no wife, nor had he ever been married; his neighbours often wondered that he was a single man. He and his God, and one other, knew why he chose a bachelor's life, for Karl never talked about his own affairs. Many townspeople and strangers were admitted into the pretty parlour, which commanded a view of the river, where Schmidt transacted his business when the weather was too wet or the days too cold to admit of his taking his chair outside the door, but only a few of these were his friends.

He was known to some in Kösen as "Old Karl," and yet he was neither grey nor infirm. It is true he had stray white hairs mingling with his brown locks, but he was still in the prime of manhood, so perhaps he earned his name because he was quiet in manner and naturally grave in disposition. He was rarely found at a fête, and certainly never seen in the public-house. Yet he filled a great place in Kösen, for he was regarded by many as a friend in need, and his advice was sought after and given cheerfully. By a few he was thought proud, but they were among the prosperous people in his own class who had never asked for his sympathy.

On the morning when Hans Richter sought him, he was up betimes, and busy about household matters. First he lighted the stove and put the kettle on; then he swept out the little kitchen and dusted and arranged the parlour. Afterwards he went upstairs again and made his bed and set his room in order. This done, he tapped at the door which faced his own. A feeble voice answered, "Come in."

Karl entered. On a clean bed lay a sickly woman, his mother, who had been partially paralysed for some years. She was his great duty in life; for her sake he had never thought of marriage. She had always been an invalid, and needed many luxuries; and when she grew so ill as to be unable to move without assistance, he was doubly thankful to God that he could keep her in tolerable comfort. He loved her intensely; to her he showed the gentle nature which lay concealed beneath the rough exterior.

"How have you slept, mother dear?" he asked, coming to her side and kissing her.

"Much better than usual, Karl," she answered, smiling at him fondly. "I mean to get up when Maria comes."

Maria was an old woman employed by Karl for a few hours every day to attend upon his mother.

"I am so glad to hear this," he answered. "I'll make coffee at once, and then I must go to business, for I hear the Burgomaster's wood arrived late last night, and I know he is in a great hurry to begin building. Besides, that boy will come on the raft who has been recommended to me. I really think I shall try him, for I have been obliged to dismiss Robert."

"I am glad he is gone, for your sake, but sorry for his own. He has too indulgent a father, and a bad companion in Paul Ebhardt, so that he has no one to influence him for good. I did hope he would have turned over a new leaf. I like the boy, with all his faults, though I fear he will be a constant source of trouble to the miller. You'll read with me as usual, Karl, before you go out?"

"Certainly, mother. I shouldn't expect a blessing on my day's work if we neglected to read the Bible and pray together morning and night."

"Our daily services have been a great joy and a pleasant duty, my son, for many years. I never understand how people like to go out into the turmoil of this world's work without first seeking strength to struggle with any difficulty, danger, or temptation that may arise. I should as soon think of going without food as going without prayer; even in my quiet life, Karl, I have my battles to fight. I often feel cross and irritable, and, but for God's help, I should tire you with my grumbling."

"Never, mother. I love you too well. I can't fancy you cross or irritable. I rarely leave the room but what I say, 'God help me to endure trouble as she does.'"

"And He will help you when trouble comes, Karl; the back is made to fit the burden. I used to wonder how people who were afflicted could be so patient, but I wonder no longer now, if they are the followers of the Lord Jesus Christ, for I have found that as I have grown weaker and my bodily ailments more severe, God has come nearer and nearer. You may depend upon it, the sick ones whom Jesus loves have a closer union with Him than those who bustle about the world. When we are ill, we are kept quiet by God; His Spirit holds communion with our spirit, and we hail the communion all the more because we have no hope, no help, but in Him."

"Oh, mother! How I like to hear you talk!—And it's not mere talk with you. I am ashamed of myself when I see you suffer, for I would fain keep you here, in spite of it all; and yet I know you must long to be at rest."

"My son, I am at rest now. This is the rest of faith; the rest of heaven will follow in God's good time."

The morning meal was over, and the morning reading and prayer, when Hans Richter arrived at the toll-house. Karl Schmidt was standing outside the door smoking his pipe.

"If you please, sir," said Hans, "I am the boy that you had a note about. Please can you give me employment?"

"What can you do?"

"Anything."

"Anything sometimes means nothing. I'd rather know what you are able to do."

"I can cut down trees, sir, make rafts, and since mother died, I've cooked for father and tidied the room; and I'm a bit of a carpenter; and I want so much to stay here that I'll try very hard and learn to do any work you set me."

"I must think over all your qualifications. You seem to me to know a little about many things, but I hope that does not mean that you are steady to nothing."

"No, sir; I don't think that's a bad fault of mine. But may I tell you what I want to do most of all?"

"Certainly."

"I want to help the rafts over the weir. I heard you always employed a lad for that, and I do so wish you would take me."

"Why do you so particularly wish to help the rafts over the weir?"

Hans hesitated, and Karl noted his hesitation.

"Speak out, boy," he said, somewhat sternly. "If you and I are to come to terms, you must tell the truth."

"I never told a lie in my life, sir, and I hope I shall never be tempted to tell one. I was only wondering if I dare just talk to you as I used to do to my father."

"Try me," answered Karl.

"What I'm going to say has to do with my dead father, sir. The last conversation we had was about the rafts, and the last words he said were, 'Stick to the raft.' And I mean to stick to the raft, and that's why I want to stand on the weir."

"But I don't yet see what standing on the weir has to do with sticking to the raft. You only stand on the weir to guide the rafts into the right channel."

"I know that, sir. But don't you see I can say to all the lads and men as they come over, 'Stick to the raft,' and that'll, maybe, lead to further conversation?"

"What further conversation?"

"It's my dead mother's idea, sir. Soon after father gave himself to the Lord, he had to take a raft to a neighbouring village. And when he started, mother told him to stick to it, and explained that she wanted him to hold on to a Raft which would bear him at all times. She meant the Lord Jesus Christ."

"I like that idea. 'There is a Friend that sticketh closer than a brother.' I'm not a man of many words, but I think I could say to strangers, 'Stick to the raft,' and maybe in some case I could explain my words, and bid them stick to the raft in a spiritual sense. Boy, you have taught me something to-day. I'm a little too much inclined to let people come and go without trying to do them good. But now tell me why you have left your forest life."

"Because I've no parents living, sir, and I'm very lonely. I had to come to Kösen with the Burgomaster's wood, and I thought I'd rather remain than go back, if I could find employment. And I want to get a better education, for I'm at the top of the village school."

"You'll meet with many temptations here, and with boys who have no principle to guide them, who will try and lead you into sin. Are you strong enough to refuse to be led away?"

Hans thought for a moment before he answered, "I hope I am."

"In whose strength shall you resist? Your own?"

"No, sir; from a baby I've been taught this, 'Cast all your care on God; He careth for you; and will not suffer you to be tempted beyond what you are able to bear.' Father had a habit of talking to God about everything, and I try to follow his example."

"That's well, Hans. I like the look of you, and my friend gave you a good character, so I'll engage you to help men and boys stick to the raft in both senses. But mind, if I find you have only talked fairly, and are untrue or dishonest, I shall dismiss you."

"I am quite ready to serve you on those terms, sir. When may I come?"

"To-day; this morning, if you like. Where did you sleep last night?"

Hans explained that he and Wilhelm Andrea had found accommodation at a little inn, and that his companion would soon be coming to pay duty on his raft.

"I know he wants to start again in good time," he added, "for some of the wood we brought down last night is going on to Halle. It is not all for the Burgomaster. May I go back and help him?"

"Certainly. I have only one more question to ask, Where are you going to lodge?"

"Can't I be with you, sir? It will be so handy for me to be near in case you want my services late at night or early in the morning."

"I've no place for you. But you will have little difficulty in finding a room in one of the cottages. I will arrange that matter for you."

Hans left Karl Schmidt with a light heart, and spent the rest of the morning in assisting Wilhelm. There was plenty to do, for the raft was an unusually large and heavy one, and it took some time to break it in pieces. Then the stems for the Burgomaster had to be dragged up the bank, and the rest tied together again, so that it was late in the afternoon before Wilhelm was ready to leave Kösen. His raft was now so small he was quite able to manage it by himself.

Hans was waiting, pole in hand, on the weir when Andrea came, and Karl was close behind, ready to give the lad his first lesson. He proved an apt scholar, and guided the raft skilfully on to the lowest part of the weir, crying, "Stick to it, Wilhelm!" as it passed over.

Wilhelm called back, "I will stick to the raft, Hans, and I'll remember all you mean by those words. Good-bye. I hope you'll be happy at Kösen."

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