Pine Needles Part 36

I am afraid Fenton was neither; but he shouldered his basket; and being an athletic fellow, managed to reach the top of the hill without more muscular distress than the others showed. Of the state of his mind I say nothing further; but the truth is, the way was rather long. n.o.body knew the shortest cut to the place they desired to reach; so they wound about among thickets of low cedar, sprinkled here and there with taller pines, going up and down and round about for some time. At last they found their way to the top of the ridge, and wandering along in search of a suitable place for their rest and pleasure, came out upon an open bit of turf and moss on the highest ground, over which a group of white pines stretched their sheltering branches. The view was clear over a very long stretch of the river with its eastern sh.o.r.e; indeed they could look up quite to the turn of the river at Gee's point; Gee's Point itself hid Mosswood from them.

With acclamations the party deposited their baskets and threw themselves down on the bank. The gentle warmth of the sun was not shorn of its effect by the least stir of wind; the moss and gra.s.s were perfectly dry; and the lookout over river and sh.o.r.es was lovely. Sugarloaf showed now true to its name, an elegant little cone. The sails of the two or three vessels the party had pa.s.sed in coming down the river were so still that they served to emphasise the general stillness; they hung lazily waiting for a breeze and could not carry their hulls fast or far.

For a while the pleasure party could do nothing but rest and look. But after a while Meredith roused himself to further action. He began wandering about; what he was searching for did not appear, until he came back with an armful of green, soft, pine branches.

"Now if you will just get up for a few minutes," said he, "I will give you a couch to rest upon." And he went on to lay the branches thick together, so as to form a very yielding comfortable layer of cus.h.i.+ons, on which the party stretched themselves with new pleasure and strong appreciation. Meredith had to bring a good many armfuls of pine branches to accommodate them all; at last he had done, and flung himself down like the rest.

"When do you want your fire made?" said he.

"Somebody else is hungry, I am afraid," said Flora.

"I cannot deny it. But I can wait as long as you can!"

"I am _very_ hungry," said Flora.

"I believe I shall be," said Mr. Murray, "by the time our luncheon can be ready. Here's for a fire!"

They all went about it. To find a place and to arrange stones for the kettle, and to collect fuel, and to build and kindle the fire. Stones for the chimney-place were not at hand in manageable size; so Mr. Murray planted three strong sticks on the ground with their bases a couple of feet or so apart and their heads tied together; and slung the kettle to them, over the fire. This was very pretty, and drew forth great expressions of admiration. Then while waiting for the kettle to boil, they all threw themselves on their pine branches again and called for a story; only Fenton sat by the fire to keep it up. Meredith took his book from his pocket and laid it on the pine branches, open before him.

"You could not attend to anything very deep till you have had something to eat," he said. "I will give you something easy."

"Most of your stories are so profound," added Flora.

"Never mind; listen."

CHAPTER XIX.

"'The story that I am going to tell now happened here in Hermannsburg.'"

"A great many things seem to have happened in Hermannsburg," Flora remarked.

"Yes. Just think what it must be to live in a village with a history.

"'It is, for one thing, a beautiful story for pa.s.sion week; and then it gives a lovely picture of the relation in which princes and their va.s.sals at that time stood to one another. The Thirty Years' War had brought frightful misery over our country. Havoc and devastation had come even into the churches. So, for example, in this place; the imperial troops had not only plundered the church and carried away everything that was of value; for to be sure the people here were Lutheran heretics; but they had even broken to pieces all the bells in the tower, and driven off no less than five baggage waggons full of bra.s.s metal, to be recast for cannon. And the last one, the big bell, was broken up and about to be carried away by the Croats; the horses were even put to the waggon; when suddenly the blast of trumpets and the battle-cry, "_G.o.d with us!_" announced the coming of Lutheran troops, and scared the Croats away. So the metal was left behind. After the Thirty Years' War, gradually the people gathered together again; but the number of them was very small, and many a farm had to lie waste for want of both farmer and farming stock. There are said to have been at first only ten families come back to our parish village, with four oxen and two cows. Besides all that, towards the end of the war epidemics were constantly prevailing, so that, for example, in this parish, in the thirty years from 1650 to 1680, three pastors died one after another of contagious epidemics; namely, Andreas Kruse'" (that was the fellow who stood out so for his church vessels), "Paulus Boccatius, Johannes Buchholz; and the fourth Justus Theodor Breyhan, who died in 1686, was three times at death's door. Those were troubled times!

"'This Breyhan was a childlike good man, whom his parish held in great love and honour, for both in spiritual and in material things there was no better counsellor for them. Like a true father he stood by the bedside of the sick and the dying, to show them how to die happy, and like a good father he comforted the survivors, and by the live and powerful words of his preaching, poured new strength and fresh courage of faith into all hearts. With all that, this man was a singular lover of the _sound of the bell_. In his opinion it was a remarkable thing, that the heavenly King would allow his bells to be cast of the same metal in which earthly princes cast their guns; and his highest wish was, to get a great church bell again. The metal indeed was still on hand; but who would have it cast? There was only a little bell still hanging up in the tower, which was called the Bingel bell, and dated back to the year 1495 (it is there still) and had been too insignificant to tempt the Croats. With that on Sundays people must be rung to church, and with that the tolling for the dead must be done at funerals. It did, it is true, give out a fine, lovely, clear note; but the good dear Breyhan often wept great tears when he heard the sound of it; it seemed to him that it was too disrespectful to the great King in heaven, that he should have no better bell than that. He could hardly sleep at last for thinking of it. Especially at the high festival days and in Pa.s.sion week, and on occasion of funerals, he was in great uneasiness. Then it was in the fast season of the year 1680, he was again sick unto death, and in his fevered fancies he was continually praying to the dear Lord that He would not let him die before he could have the bell properly tolled at his burying. He recovered, and on Good Friday was again able to preach. The congregation wept for joy at having their beloved pastor among them again, and never perhaps have more ardent thanks gone up to G.o.d from the parish than did that day. The time of the Easter festival pa.s.sed by, and they rejoiced with one another over the glorious resurrection of the Lord Jesus. The third day of the Easter festival (at that time there were still always three feast days), he told the congregation that they must pray for him faithfully; for the next day he was going on a journey after a bell which in his illness he had promised to the Lord.

"'The next morning his honest old parish farmer Ebel was at the door with a little farm waggon, and asked him where they were to go? and whether it was to be a long or a short journey? You must know the man was under obligation to take several long journeys for his pastor, lasting some days, and several short expeditions of a day only each. "It shall be a short one for to-day," the pastor answered. "I think with G.o.d's help to ride to Zelle." So after Ebel had attended morning wors.h.i.+p in the parsonage, for he would not willingly have missed that, Breyhan mounted into the waggon, set himself down upon a spread of straw, took his hat off and said reverently--"In G.o.d's name!"--and then they went forward, step by step, as the manner was then; for in those days people were not in such a hurry as they are now. Before the city they stopped, and with prayer and thanksgiving ate the breakfast they had brought along with them. Then Breyhan took his vestments out of a clean linen cloth and put them on, and one could see by his lips that he was speaking to himself or praying. Good Ebel felt himself growing quite devotional at the sight, and he drove into the city with twice the spirit he had had before, because now everybody might see that he had a pastor in his waggon.'"

Meredith paused a moment to glance up at the river and hills opposite, and Maggie broke forth,

"The people in that country seem to be very unlike the people in this country?"

"You mean, n.o.body here would care so much about carrying a minister in his waggon," said Meredith laughing.

"Well--he wouldn't, would he?"

"I am afraid not. More's the pity."

"Why, Ditto?" said his sister. "What are ministers so much more than other people?"

"They are the King's amba.s.sadors," said Mr. Murray, taking the answer upon himself. "And you know, Miss Flora, the amba.s.sador of a king is always treated as something more than other people."

Flora looked at him. "Mr. Murray," she said, "ministers do not seem like that?"

"When they are the true thing, they do."

"But then besides," Maggie went on,--"how could anybody, how could that good man care so much about a _bell_? What difference did it make whether the bell was big or little?"

"Superst.i.tion"--said Flora.

"No, not exactly," responded Mr. Murray.

"That other man cared so much about his silver service, and this one about his bell--they were both alike, but I don't understand it," said Maggie.

"How would you like your father to have his table set with pewter instead of silver?"

"O Uncle Eden! but that--"

"Or to drive a lame horse in his carriage?"

"But, Uncle Eden--"

"Or to wear a fustian coat?"

"But that's different, Uncle Eden."

"Yes, it is different. This concerns our own things; those matters of the vessels and the bell concerned G.o.d's things."

"Then you approve of building very costly churches, sir?" asked Meredith, whose head was running on churches lately.

"No, I do not."

"How then, Mr. Murray?" said Flora curiously.

"Because _the_ temple of the Lord, the only one He cares much about, is not built yet. I hold it false stewards.h.i.+p to turn aside the Lord's money into brick and mortar and marble channels, while His poor have no comfortable shelter, His waifs want bread, and a community anywhere in the world are going without the light of life and the word of salvation."

"What do you mean by _the_ temple of the Lord, Uncle Eden?" said Maggie.

"I thought there was no temple of the Lord now?"

Mr. Murray pulled out his Bible from his pocket, opened and found a place.

"'Now therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellow-citizens with the saints, and of the household of G.o.d; and are built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief corner-stone; in whom all the building, fitly framed together, groweth unto an holy temple in the Lord; in whom ye also are builded together, for an habitation of G.o.d through the Spirit.'"

"How lovely!"--said Meredith.