CHAPTER IV.

THE MILLER'S SON.

HERR KLEIN, to whom the mill at Kösen belonged, was a hard-working man who had a wife and eight children to support; morning, noon, and sometimes far into the night, he was at his business. He was a good husband and an indulgent father. Perhaps it was the easy manner he had of dealing with the faults of his young ones that made his eldest and only son Robert so determined to lead an idle life. He was a lad of sixteen who had no particular principle to guide him, and liked to do nothing that gave him any trouble. The only thing he excelled in was archery; he had carried off the Burgomaster's prize for two years in succession at the Schutzen Fest (shooting festival), and they were about the only prizes he had ever won, or tried after, in his life.

Finding that his son was so averse to work in his mill, Herr Klein asked Karl Schmidt to allow him to try his hand at helping the rafts over the weir. And as the toll-master was just then without a boy, he engaged Robert. But the latter, instead of helping, so often nearly brought both men and rafts into dangerous positions that at last Schmidt was compelled to dismiss him, and, as we know, Hans was engaged in his stead.

In all probability Robert would have seen his place filled without being at all troubled had it not been for a very bad companion of his, the closest and dearest friend he had, one Paul Ebhardt, the son of the master tailor in Kösen, who considered that it was an infringement upon the rights of the town for a stranger to come and, as he termed it, "turn out a fellow who was born and bred close to the weir."

It was evident that Herr Klein admired the look and bearing of Hans, for he said to his son soon after the lad came to live with the toll-master, "I do wish, Robert, you were as steady as Schmidt's new boy; I very much dislike seeing you constantly idling about."

But the miller did not enforce obedience, and truly he had no confidence in his first-born, and was afraid of giving him any position of trust connected with the mill. He hoped that as he grew older he would be wiser. Nevertheless he did not set before him the miseries which must accrue from laziness, nor that "Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do." He was proud of his son, who was a well-grown, handsome, good-natured lad, but beyond this had nothing much to commend him.

Hans had been in his situation for several weeks, and had given the toll-master so much satisfaction that the latter proposed to his mother that a bed should be placed in the kitchen to accommodate him. "He is so handy at accounts, I shall be glad to have him to help me with the books," said Karl.

Frau Schmidt gave her hearty consent to the arrangement, and added, "He will be a companion for you during the winter. I like the boy very much, and I think if he is in the house, you can carry on his education during the long evenings."

So a bed was bought, and Hans was installed in his new quarters. The orphan was very happy to be there, and thankful to God that the influences of his home were such that he would be helped forward in the pilgrimage of life. He already loved patient Frau Schmidt, and hailed the days when she was well enough to sit up in her easy-chair and chat to him.

Hans was in the habit of taking off his boots and socks when he stood in the water to help the rafts over the weir. He removed them as usual one morning, and left them on the shore, without giving a thought as to their safety, while he went, pole in hand, to assist four rafts, which had been waiting for a good supply of water to pass over the weir.

Robert and his friend Paul were sauntering along the banks of the river when they observed Hans take off his boots and socks.

"Let's hide them," suggested Paul. "I hate that boy, and should like to make Kösen too hot for him."

"It's not worth while," answered Robert. "If any one owes him a grudge, I do, for he turned me out of my situation. But he's not worth a thought."

"That's one reason why I dislike him so much," said Paul. And he might have added, "the chief reasons are that he rather avoids me than seeks to know me, and on several occasions when I've invited him to go for a walk, he has refused to accompany me. And one evening when I was drinking at a public-house, he turned away."

This was true, for Hans had been warned by his master to have no companionship with Robert or Paul. "One is idle, and the other bad," added Karl Schmidt; "therefore you had better try to keep clear of them."

Hans knew this was sound advice, for he had seen Paul behave in such a manner that his own good sense would have told him to avoid Ebhardt if he would cling to the good.

"Now do let's pay him off," urged Paul.

"Well, just as you like. We'll put his boots and socks under that rubbish."

Accordingly they were pushed under a nasty heap of refuse, and then the boys hid behind the trunk of an old tree, and waited to see how Hans would behave.

In the meantime, the latter was fully employed. The first raft had only one man in it, who was accompanied by a favourite dog. The creature whined piteously, and was evidently frightened by the noise of the rushing water.

"Stick to the raft, and mind your dog," shouted Hans.

The stranger, thus admonished, took the animal into his arms, and planting his feet down firmly, passed the weir in safety.

"Give me a help with your pole until I'm under the bridge," called the man; "I'm not strong enough to keep clear of it single-handed, my cough is so bad."

Hans sprang on to the raft, and gave a few vigorous thrusts with his pole.

"It's all right now," he said. "I'm afraid you are very ill. It seems to me you are not fit to come down alone on this raft."

"I know that as well as you can tell me," answered the stranger, curtly, "but a man must live. Mine will be a short life, and by no means a merry one."

"You managed to stick well to the raft as you passed over the weir," replied Hans; "and if you'll stick to another kind of Raft, you'll be able to meet any sickness that comes."

"What do you mean?"

"Why, the Bible tells us that Jesus Christ came into the world to save us from sin; and if we cling to Him in all our troubles, we shall be able to bear them."

"What stuff are you talking to me, boy?" exclaimed the man, angrily. "I want no more help, now we are safely under the bridge. Thank you for what you've done, but let me give you a word of advice: if you use that sort of talk to strangers, you'll get a thrashing one of these days. The idea of a child like you setting up to teach grown men!"

Hans felt very sore as he walked quickly back to the weir; he was more than sore, quite cross, and indignant that his words had been received in such an uncourteous spirit. But he had no time then to indulge his vexation, for the three remaining rafts had to be helped over. He did his best, save only that no words escaped him beyond what he was compelled to say; he did not cry out cheerily, "Stick to the raft; take care; keep in the current!"

So soon as he had completed his morning's work, he prepared to go home, but, to his dismay, he found that his boots and socks were gone.

Hans looked about in every direction in vain, and at last relinquished the search, fearing his master would be waiting dinner for him. Paul had no mind to allow his victim to escape thus easily, so he broke into a derisive laugh. Then, for the first time, Hans discovered that Robert and his friend were watching his movements, and he felt sure they had played him a trick.

"Where are my boots? You've taken them away," he called out.

"That's like your impudence, young fellow," said Paul, coming toward him, followed by Robert; "it's as good as calling us thieves. Take that for being so impertinent!" And he struck Hans a violent blow across the mouth.

As we know, Hans was out of temper, not only annoyed at the stranger, but vexed at losing his boots. He sprang on to Paul, and before the latter could defend himself, he was stretched full length on the grass.

"You coward! How dare you hit me?" he cried. "You're in my power now. Tell me where are my boots, or I will thrash you."

"Help me, help me!" screamed Paul, "Robert, he'll kill me."

"No, I shall not," answered Hans. "Give me your hand; I'm sorry I was in such a temper." For a still small voice whispered, "Is that sticking to the Raft?"

"I really call that first-rate behaviour," said easy Robert, roused for once to have an opinion of his own. "He had you down, and no mistake, Paul. You'll find your boots under the rubbish heap, Hans."

"You shall answer for this," muttered Paul, slowly rising from the ground. "I will be revenged on you, Hans Richter. Paul Ebhardt generally remembers to pay off any grudge he owes. Come along, Robert."

Hans found his boots and socks, but it took him some minutes to shake off the dust and dirt with which they were covered. And thus he was fully a quarter of an hour late for dinner.

The toll-master was busy with a customer, so that he made no comment on his want of punctuality.

The meal passed almost in silence, for the lad was so busy with himself, and though his master addressed him once or twice he only replied in monosyllables.

It was Karl Schmidt's habit to spend half-an-hour with his mother after dinner, and latterly Hans had been admitted to the conference, and very much he valued the advice and counsel he received from the sick woman. On this day, a friend came to see Karl, so Hans went up alone to the invalid.

"Oh, Frau Schmidt, may I tell you all—everything?" he asked, kneeling down by the side of her arm-chair.

"What have you to tell me?" she asked, passing her hands over the upturned face. "There has been something amiss to-day; you have been crying."

"And I'm sure you will say I ought to cry, dear frau, for I have been so very wicked. I am a regular hypocrite." And Hans poured into her ears the history of the morning's adventures.

"Poor boy!" she said, kindly. "Yes, you have failed to stick to the Raft; you have forgotten to cling to the One who is mighty to save, and have allowed self to gain a victory. The hardest battle we have to fight in our Christian course is the battle with ourselves. We think we are doing great things, and then perhaps a rebuff comes, and, instead of searching into our motives and crying out for the Spirit of the living God to show us ourselves and bring us anew to Jesus, we grow angry and vexed that we are despised and misunderstood."

"Yes, yes; you are right, dear frau," said Hans, the tears coming afresh at the words he heard. "I was so angry with the stranger, and wounded because he scolded me."

"The next time you receive a rebuff, contrast your trials with His who endured such contradiction of sinners against Himself—who was tempted in all points, and yet without sin. Pray for the indwelling of His Spirit when you try to do His work, and ever remember that when He was reviled, He reviled not again, but was despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief, and we hid as it were our faces from Him. We have many lessons to learn, which will only be learnt through tears, but they will be blessed tears, for 'they that sow in tears shall reap in joy.'"

Karl entered the room at this moment, and Hans made his escape, and left Frau Schmidt to explain to his master why he went away so abruptly.

"I am sorry all this has happened," remarked Karl, when he had heard the particulars. "I do not mean that I am sorry Hans received a scolding from the man on the raft, for in the Master's service he must not expect all sunshine. But I am sorry he has provoked Paul Ebhardt, for that boy will not easily forget that he has for once been conquered."

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