by Jane Andrews
LOUISE, THE CHILD OF THE BEAUTIFUL RIVER RHINE.
Have you heard of the beautiful River Rhine--how at first it hides, alittle brook among the mountains and dark forests, and then steals outinto the sunshine, and leaps down the mountain-side, and hurriesaway to the sea, growing larger and stronger as it runs, curling andeddying among the rocks, and sweeping between the high hills where thegrape-vines grow and the solemn old castles stand?
How people come from far and near to see and to sail upon thebeautiful river! And the children who are so blessed as to be bornnear it, and to play on its shores through all the happy young yearsof their lives, although they may go far away from it in the afteryears, never, never forget the dear and beautiful River Rhine.
It is only a few miles away from the Rhine--perhaps too far for you towalk, but not too far for me--that we shall find a fine large house,a house with pleasant gardens about it, broad gravel walks, and soft,green grass-plats to play upon, and gay flowering trees and bushes,while the rose-vines are climbing over the piazza, and openingrose-buds are peeping in at the chamber windows.
Isn't this a pleasant house? I wish we could all live in as charminga home, by as blue and lovely a river, and with as large and sweeta garden, or, if we might have such a place for our school, howdelightful it would be!
Here lives Louise, my blue-eyed, sunny-haired little friend, and herein the garden she plays with Fritz and sturdy little Gretchen. Andhere, too, at evening the father and mother come to sit on thepiazza among the roses, and the children leave their games, to nestletogether on the steps while the dear brother Christian plays softlyand sweetly on his flute.
Louise is a motherly child, already eight years old, and alwayswilling and glad to take care of the younger ones; indeed, she callsGretchen _her_ baby, and the little one loves dearly her child-mamma.
They live in this great house, and they have plenty of toys and books,and plenty of good food, and comfortable little beds to sleep in atnight, although, like Jeannette's, they are only neat little boxesbuilt against the side of the wall.
But near them, in the valley, live the poor people, in small, lowhouses. They eat black bread, wear coarse clothes, and even thechildren must work all day that they may have food for to-morrow.
The mother of Louise is a gentle, loving woman; she says to herchildren: "Dear children, to-day we are rich, we can have all thatwe want, but we will not forget the poor. You may some day be pooryourselves, and, if you learn now what poverty is, you will be moreready to meet it when it comes." So, day after day, the great stovein the kitchen is covered with stew-pans and kettles, in which arecooking dinners for the sick and the poor, and day after day, as thedinner-hour draws near, Louise will come, and Fritz, and even littleGretchen, saying: "Mother, may I go?" "May I go?" and the motheranswers: "Dear children, you shall all go together"; and she fills thebowls and baskets, and sends her sunny-hearted children down into thevalley to old Hans the gardener, who has been lame with rheumatism somany years; and to young Marie, the pale, thin girl, who was so merryand rosy-cheeked in the vineyard a year ago; and to the old, old womanwith the brown, wrinkled face and bowed head, who sits always in thesunshine before the door, and tries to knit; but the needles drop fromthe poor trembling hands, and the stitches slip off, and she cannotsee to pick them up. She is too deaf to hear the children as they comedown the road, and she is nodding her poor old head, and feeling aboutin her lap for the lost needle, when Louise, with her bright eyes,spies it, picks it up, and before the old woman knows she has come,a soft little hand is laid in the brown, wrinkled one, and the littlegirl is shouting in her ear that she has brought some dinner frommamma. It makes a smile shine in the old half-blind eyes. It is alwaysthe happiest part of the day to her when the dear little lady comeswith her dinner. And it made Louise happy too, for nothing repays usso well as what we do unselfishly for others.
These summer days are full of delight for the children. It is not allplay for them, to be sure; but then, work is often even more charmingthan play, as I think some little girls know when they have beenhelping their mothers,--running of errands, dusting the furniture,and sewing little squares of patchwork that the baby may have acradle-quilt made entirely by her little sister.
Louise can knit, and, indeed, every child and woman in that countryknits. You would almost laugh to see how gravely the little girl takesout her stocking, for she has really begun her first stocking, andsits on the piazza-steps for an hour every morning at work. Then thelittle garden, which she calls her own, must be weeded. The gardenerwould gladly do it, but Louise has a hoe of her own, which her fatherbought in the spring, and, bringing it to his little daughter, said:"Let me see how well my little girl can take care of her own garden."And the child has tried very hard; sometimes, it is true, she wouldlet the weeds grow pretty high before they were pulled up, but, on thewhole, the garden promises well, and there are buds on her moss-rosebush. It is good to take care of a garden, for, besides the pleasurethe flowers can bring us, we learn how watchful we must be to root outthe weeds, and how much trimming and care the plants need; so we learnhow to watch over our own hearts.
She has books, too, and studies a little each day,--studies at homewith her mother, for there is no school near enough for her to go toit, and while she and Fritz are so young, their mother teaches them,while Christian, who is already more than twelve years old, has goneto the school upon that beautiful hill which can be seen from Louise'schamber window,--the school where a hundred boys and girls arestudying music. For, ever since he was a baby, Christian has lovedmusic; he has sung the very sweetest little songs to Louise, while shewas yet so young as to lie in her cradle, and he has whistled untilthe birds among the bushes would answer him again, and now, when hecomes home from school to spend some long summer Sunday, he alwaysbrings the flute, and plays, as I told you in the beginning of thestory.
When the summer days are over, what comes next? You do not surelyforget the autumn, when the leaves of the maples turn crimson andyellow, and the oaks are red and brown, and you scuff your feet alongthe path ankle-deep in fallen leaves!
On the banks of the Rhine the autumn is not quite like ours. You shallsee how our children of the great house will spend an autumn day.
Their father and mother have promised to go with them to the vineyardsas soon as the grapes are ripe enough for gathering, and on this sunnySeptember morning the time has really come.
In the great covered baskets are slices of bread and German sausage,bottles of milk and of beer, and plenty of fresh and delicious prunes,for the prune orchards are loaded with ripe fruit. This is theirdinner, for they will not be home until night.
Oh, what a charming day for the children! Little Gretchen is rollingin the grass with delight, while Louise runs to bring her own littlebasket, in which to gather grapes.
They must ride in the broad old family carriage, for the little onescannot walk so far; but, when they reach the river, they will take aboat with white sails, and go down to where the steep steps and pathlead up on the other side, up the sunny green bank to the vineyard,where already the peasant girls have been at work ever since sunrise.Here the grapes are hanging in heavy, purple clusters; the sun haswarmed them through and through, and made them sweet to the veryheart. Oh, how delicious they are, and how beautiful they look, heapedup in the tall baskets, which the girls and women are carrying ontheir heads! How the children watch these peasant-girls, all dressedin neat little jackets, and many short skirts one above another, redand blue, white and green. On their heads are the baskets of grapes,and they never drop nor spill them, but carry them steadily down thesteep, narrow path to the great vats, where the young men stand onshort ladders to reach the top, and pour in the purple fruit. Thenthe grapes are crushed till the purple juice runs out, and that iswine,--such wine as even the children may drink in their little silvercups, for it is even better than milk. You may be sure that they havesome at dinner-time, when they cluster round the flat rock below thedark stone castle, with the
warm noonday sun streaming across theirmossy table, and the mother opens the basket and gives to every one ashare.
Below them is the river, with its boats and beautiful shining water;behind them are the vine-covered walls of that old castle where twohundred years ago lived armed knights and stately ladies; and allabout them is the rich September air, full of the sweet fragranceof the grapes, and echoing with the songs and laughter of thegrape-gatherers. On their rocky table are purple bunches of fruit, intheir cups the new wine-juice, and in their hearts all the joy of themerry grape season.
There are many days like this in the autumn, but the frost will comeat last, and the snow too. This is winter, but winter brings the bestpleasure of all.
When two weeks of the winter had nearly passed, the children, as youmay suppose, began to think of Christmas, and, indeed, their bestand most loving friend had been preparing for them the sweetest ofChristmas presents. Ten days before Christmas it came, however. Canyou guess what it was? Something for all of them,--something whichChristian will like just as well as little Gretchen will, and thefather and mother will perhaps be more pleased than any one else.
Do you know what it is? What do you think of a little baby brother,--alittle round, sweet, blue-eyed baby brother as a Christmas present forthem all?
When Christmas Eve came, the mother said: "The children must havetheir Christmas-tree in my room, for baby is one of the presents, andI don't think I can let him be carried out and put upon the table inthe hall, where we had it last year."
So all day long the children are kept away from their mother's room.Their father comes home with his great coat-pockets very full ofsomething, but, of course, the children don't know what. He comes andgoes, up stairs and down, and, while they are all at play in the snow,a fine young fir-tree is brought in and carried up. Louise knows it,for she picked up a fallen branch upon the stairs, but she doesn'ttell Fritz and Gretchen.
How they all wait and long for the night to come! They sit at thewindows, watching the red sunset light upon the snow, and cannot thinkof playing or eating their supper. The parlor door is open, and allare waiting and listening. A little bell rings, and in an instantthere is a scampering up the broad stairs to the door of mother'sroom; again the little bell rings, and the door is opened wide bytheir father, who stands hidden behind it.
At the foot of their mother's white-curtained bed stands the littlefir-tree; tiny candles are burning all over it like little stars, andglittering golden fruits are hanging among the dark-green branches.On the white-covered table are laid Fritz's sword and Gretchen's bigdoll, they being too heavy for the tree to hold. Under the branchesLouise finds charming things; such a little work-box as it is adelight to see, with a lock and key, and inside, thimble and scissors,and neat little spools of silk and thread. Then there are the fairystories of the old Black Forest, and that most charming of all littlebooks, "The White Cat," and an ivory cup and ball for Fritz. Do youremember where the ivory comes from? And, lest Baby Hans should thinkhimself forgotten, there is an ivory rattle for him.
There he lies in the nurse's arms, his blue eyes wide open withwonder, and in a minute the children, with arms full of presents, havegathered round the old woman's arm-chair,--gathered round the best andsweetest little Christmas present of all. And the happy mother, whosits up among the pillows, taking her supper, while she watches herchildren, forgets to eat, and leaves the gruel to grow cold, but herheart is warm enough.
Why is not Christian here to-night? In the school of music, away onthe hill, he is singing a grand Christmas hymn, with a hundred youngvoices to join him. It is very grand and sweet, full of thanks and oflove. It makes the little boy feel nearer to all his loved ones, andin his heart he is thanking the dear Father who has given them thatbest little Christmas present,--the baby.
