Pine Needles

by Hildegard G. Frey

  CHAPTER IX.

  The same sweet weather continued again the next day; the air was evenwarmer still, the leaves of oaks and maples, turning more and more, weregrowing browner and ruddier, and the glow on the hills more deep. Thepine wood, however, which lay behind, that is, north of the house, at nogreat distance, was uninvaded by this autumn glow. The soft, blue gleamof the pines alone stood against the heaven's mild blue overhead, andpine needles, brown and thick, carpeted the ground everywhere betweenthe rocks. For rocks were almost everywhere at Mosswood. Only on theskirts of the wood one might see a flaming maple branch, or a goldencloud of hickory here and there, and here and there a cat-briar vinetaking a tawny hue, or some low-growing cornus putting on lovely tintsof madder at the edges of its leaves. Through the wood the little partywandered, not knowing where to choose to stop, and Meredith patientlydrew the cart along waiting for orders. At last, on a little risingground they found an open space, yet shadowed enough, from which therewas a lookout to the house in the valley; truly no more than thechimneys could be seen; and a wider space of blue sky, and the hillstowards the south. This would do. Here were pine needles enough for acarpet, and a felled pine log gave a convenient seat to those who likedit. For Meredith and Maggie preferred the ground and the pine needles.The cart was drawn up under the shade of a tree; afghan and worstedembroidery were taken out; shawls were spread; and the party settledthemselves for a morning of comfort.

  "This _is_ good!" said Meredith delaying to open his book.

  "How perfectly delicious this warm smell of the pines is!" said Flora.

  "You use strong language, Flo, but for once not exaggerated. We have notgot the sound of the wood-chopper's axe to-day."

  "I'll tell you what you may hear, though, if you listen," saidEsther,--"the woodpecker--

  'The woodpecker tapping the hollow beech-tree;'

  only there are no beech-trees on the place. You may hear him on an oak,though."

  "This hazy light under the pines--through the pines--is bewitching. OOctober! O Mosswood!" Meredith exclaimed. "What is so pretty as theseautumn woods?"

  "What are you going to read us to-day?" said his sister. "Don't getpoetical."

  "I will read you one or two little bits first, which touch somethingMaggie and I were talking of yesterday. We do not want a bonfire to-day;it's too warm."

  "No; we will make just a tiny little blaze by and by, to boil ourkettle. It would be too warm for a bonfire; and there are no trees hereto be cut."

  "I should think not!" said Meredith looking up at the blue-green pineneedles over his head. "Well, here's a story for you."

  "Heathen?" asked Flora.

  "No, Christian. 'There was a man, once upon a time, whom God had richlyblessed. He had received a year's income of seven hundred thalers. Fourhundred of them he needed and used for his house and family wants, andthree hundred were left over. So he thought at first he would put themoney out at interest, and enjoy the comfort of receiving rents whichwere growing while he was sleeping. As he was just setting about this,he read in a mission paper about the wants of the heathen; and theSunday next following he heard a preaching about how the dear Lord isthe safest of all to trust money to, and gives the best interest. So hemade a short piece of work of it, and sent his three hundred thalers tothe dear Lord for the conversion of the heathen, and said, "Lord, takeThou them; I got them from Thee, and there is all this left." "Wife,"said he, when he came home at evening, "I have done a good bit ofbusiness to-day; I have got rid of my three hundred thalers, and am quitof any care of the money, over and above." "Then you may thank the dearLord for that," said his wife. "And so I do," he answered.

  "'Do I not hear at this point, not merely many a child of the world, butalso many a believer, secretly half saying, "No, but what is out ofreason is out of reason!"--and so do I see a certain compassionate smileplaying about mouth-corners. But wait a bit; there is something comingthat is more crazy yet. The next year the man was overloaded with such ablessing, that instead of seven hundred thalers, he made fourteenhundred thalers, and he did not know where it all came from. Then whatdoes he do but take the surplus, one thousand thalers, and send it tothe mission. Is the story true? do you say. You can ask the Lord "inthat day;" he knows the story.'"

  "I like that," said Maggie.

  "Why?" Flora asked.

  "I think it is nice," said Maggie with a shrug of her shoulders.

  "I don't see it. What good to the man to have twice as much as he hadbefore, if he must give it all right away again?"

  "Why, he has the pleasure of giving it!" cried Maggie.

  "And it shows, at any rate, that he did not get poor by his firstventure," said Meredith. "And the Lord will reckon it 'at that day' asall done for Him."

  "I don't think people are obliged to give away all they have got," saidFlora.

  "Suppose they do not reckon anything they have their own? The Christiansin the early times did not, if the Lord's work or the needs of otherswanted it more."

  "Extravagance!" said Flora. "Just enthusiasm."

  "Come, I will read you another story. But the poor woman who gave allshe had into the Lord's treasury was not rated as a fool by _Him_. Iwill read you now--

  "'A PROBLEM ABOUT STUTEN MONEY.

  "'Most of you know, it is true, right well what _stuten_ money is, butcertainly all do not. Among us, when people go to church on Sunday, thechildren and younger serving people of the peasants get a groschen totake along, with which they can buy a stuten, that is, a white roll, atnoon when they come out of church; by the help of which they can stay inthe village and so go to church again in the afternoon. Now there are aboy, a girl, and an old woman known to me, who have no other money butthe stuten money they get on Sundays. So each one of them falls toconsidering how he or she can do something for the heathen. And theyarrange it on this wise. One of them every other Sunday eats no roll,and thinks within herself, "I ate as much as I wanted this morning athome, and I can do the same again this evening." The two others buy eacha small roll for half a groschen, and lay up the other half-groschenevery Sunday; and when the year comes round, they have all three ofthem, counting the festivals, thirty groschen saved up, and bring themwith glad, smiling faces to go for the conversion of the heathen. Andupon being afterwards asked whether hunger did not often trouble them onSunday? they say, they have always felt as if they had had enough; and,with God's help, they will do the same way next year.'"

  "What sort of a story do you call that?" asked Flora when her brotherpaused.

  "I call it a story of what can be done."

  "And _I_ call it a story of what ought not to be done. Both the childrenand the old woman needed their bread for themselves; it was not good forthem to go without it. And what is a groschen? or thirty groschen?"

  "What are 'two mites, which make a farthing?'"

  "Oh, that is in the Bible."

  "But it was in a poor woman's heart first, or we should never have hadit in the Bible."

  "Well, look at our luncheon," said Flora.

  "I will look at it when I see it. What then?"

  "Do you mean that we shall do wrong to eat it?"

  "Not at all."

  "How can those people be right and we not wrong?"

  "Yes, Ditto," said Maggie. "I do not understand."

  "Those people must give their groschen or give nothing. It was all theycould give."

  "But we might give more than we do, if we would live on bread andwater," said Flora. "If we are to give all we _could_ give, our luncheonwould come to a good many groschen, I can tell you."

  "We must ask Mr. Murray. I am not wise enough to talk to you," saidMeredith. "I hope he will come; we are getting work ready for him.Meantime I will read you another little story. Maybe we shall find somelight.

  "'AS POOR, YET MAKING MANY RICH.

  "'There was a poor day-labourer who lived by his work from hand tomouth. He heard it read out of the Old Testament, that under the oldcovenant every Israelite was bound to giv
e to God the tenth of all hisincomings. That went through and through the man's head, and he thought:Could the Israelites do that by the law, and should not we Christians beable to do it by the love of Christ? So, honestly and faithfully, helays by the tenth of his daily wages; the Lord blesses him, so that manya time he earns sixteen groschen a day; and at the end of the year hecomes with his hands full, bringing sixteen thaler twenty groschen forthe conversion of the heathen, and with hearty pleasure; and he says,"The love of Christ constraineth me so, I have wanted for nothing."'"

  "Not much of a story," said Meredith, in concluding, "but a good deal ofa suggestion."

  "Suggestion of what?" asked his sister.

  "Duty. Certainly a Christian ought to be able to do more for love thanan old Hebrew did for law; and from this time I will imitate that oldGerman fellow."

  "But, Ditto," exclaimed his sister, "a tenth of _your_ income, you mustremember, is a great deal."

  "Not in proportion," said Meredith. "He would want every one of hisremaining groschen for his necessities; I should not. It seems to me,the richer one is, the larger the proportion should be that should go tothe Lord's uses."

  "I shall ask Mr. Murray to make you reasonable!" Flora exclaimed. "Stoptalking, and go on with your reading."

  "The next story is about 'One Groschen and Two Pennies.'"

  "'It is true what the Bible says--"The Lord maketh sore, and bindeth up;He woundeth, and His hands make whole." My heart learnt the meaning ofthis word when a short time ago I had to expel two pupils from theMission-house, who had been led astray by Satan. This gave me greatpain, but it had to be done, for their sakes and for the sake of thehouse; and it was somewhat alleviated in that they came back sorry andpenitent and were taken in again.

  "'To the honour of the Lord I will here speak good of the balm whichshortly after my great hurt He laid upon the wounds. May it havesomewhat of the sweetness of that ointment which filled the whole house.

  "'Soon after the departure of the pupils was made known, I had a visitfrom an eight-year-old boy. He had a groschen in his hand and areading-book under his arm. He told me that he had found this groschenfourteen days before on the way to church; that he had asked his fatherto publish the discovery, and he himself had announced it in school. Butnobody had been found to own the groschen. I said to him: "Well, what doyou think, my child? does the groschen belong to you? will you buysomething with it?" The boy answered, "No, the groschen is not mine, soI am not going to keep it. I will give it to the dear Saviour for thepoor heathen children, to get a spelling-book for them." When Iquestioned him further, he said that once in the church, where hisfather takes him every Sunday, I had said "whoever keeps what does notbelong to him is a thief; and"--he added with great seriousness, "yousaid, a Christian child must not be a thief!" I received the groschennow and thanked him. But the boy had not done yet. He asked me if itwere true that two of the pupils had been expelled from theMission-house. When with a sorrowful face I assented, he answered, "Youneed not be so troubled about it. You can send me instead. I can spellalready, and I will soon learn to read." When the little fellow withgreat earnestness had said that, I could not help folding him to mybreast in heartfelt gladness. Then I knelt down, and together with himprayed that the Lord would some time make a true missionary of him. Hewent away at last, but could not at first rightly understand how it wasthat I had as yet no use for him.

  "'Soon after this, I receive a letter from a dear friend who had beenmaking a lively stir in the matter of the Mission among his school andthe parish to which his school belonged. The Lord had granted him accessto the hearts of great and small, and with cordial pleasure he had beencollecting till he should have a full thaler made up, which then shouldbe sent me. Now he wrote the thaler was made up, and he sent it, andthis was how it had come about. In a hospital, where he is accustomed tohold devotional service for an hour, he had mentioned the conversion ofthe heathen. The next day came a widow, shoved four groschen under oneof the books which lay on the table, and then, with a greeting from herchildren, laid two groschen on the table, saying, "Now the thaler willbe made up!" To this Mission thaler, which indeed was made up now, alittle girl of nine years old had every Sunday contributed two pennies,which she received from her mother to buy rolls with. Some time after,the mother brought the child's two pennies again, silently; but itstruck our friend that she had great tears in her eyes. The thing wassoon explained. The child had fallen ill. Sunday her mother said to her,"To-day you shall keep your roll for yourself." "No," the childanswered, "I could not be easy if I did. I promised my dear Saviouronce, that as long as you gave me two pennies to buy rolls with, I wouldgive the money on Sunday for the heathen." How glad that true mother'sheart must have been! She had reason to say, "But what a value these twopennies had for me! I could not let them out of my hands at first, forjoy." God bless mother, child, and teacher! The Mission must indeedthrive when such gifts are offered. From another dear friend ofmissions, personally unknown to me, moreover, I received a contributionfor the Mission, in the making up of which both men and beasts had giventheir help. The contributors were specially mentioned, the men at theirhead; then at the conclusion followed, "A hen, so much and so much."'"

  "Well, Ditto," said Flora, "I will say, you do read the mostextraordinary stories."

  "Like them?"

  "No, I don't think I do much. Do you bring them forward as our examples,hen and all?"

  "You might do worse."

  "But, Ditto," Maggie said anxiously, "you do not think we ought to gowithout what we _want_, do you, for the sake of the heathen?"

  "Ask Mr. Murray that question, Maggie. Whose hat is that I see over thewall, coming up to the gate?"

  Maggie jumped up to look, and then, with a scream of "Uncle Eden! UncleEden!" sprang away down the path to meet him. The others dropped bookand work and followed her. The pine wood was screened off from theshrubbery and pleasure grounds (but indeed all Mosswood pretty much waspleasure grounds) by a low stone wall, in which wall a little gateadmitted to the entrance of the wood. By the time Mr. Murray, skirtingthe wall, had come to that point, the group of young people had reachedit also, and there Mr. Murray received a welcome that might havesatisfied any man. Maggie threw herself on his neck with cries ofdelight; Flora's bright, handsome face sparkled with undisguisedpleasure; even Esther looked glad, and Meredith's wringing grasp of thehand was as expressive as anything else. Surrounded by them, almosthemmed in his steps, questioned and answered and welcomed, all in abreath, by the gay little group, Mr. Murray slowly made his progressalong the pine walk towards the present camping place. He had got theround-robin, yes, and he had obeyed their summons as soon as he couldafter clearing away a few impediments of business; he had made an earlystart, and come all the way that morning from Bay House, and he was veryglad to be with them. Now what were they going to do with him?

  Saying which last, Mr. Murray stretched himself on the soft carpet ofpine needles and surveyed the tokens of work and play around the spot.

  "From Bay House this morning! And no lunch yet? That's good!" criedMaggie. "Now, dear Ditto, the first thing is to give him something toeat. He must be ravenous. If you'll build a fireplace, I'll make thefire, and then we can have the kettle boiled in a very little time."

  Mr. Murray lay on his elbow on the pine needles and watched them asMeredith built a few stones together to support the tea-kettle, and thenhe and Maggie ran about collecting bits of pine and pine cones and fuelgenerally. And then there was the careful laying of dry tinder together,and the match applied, and the blue, hospitable smoke began to curl upunder and round the kettle, and an aromatic, odoriferous smell camefloating in the air.

  "This is better than anything I have seen for some time, children," hesaid.

  "Ah, wait!" cried Maggie. "We have got stewed pigeons for lunch."

  Mr. Murray laughed. "What are you all doing out here, _besides_ eatingpigeons?"

  "We have set out with the determination to live out of doors," saidFlora
; "and so we do it. This is the third day, and it is absolutelydelightful."

  "What are you doing?"

  "I see you looking at our worsteds--aren't they pretty colours, Mr.Murray? Esther and I play with these, while Ditto reads to us. And wehave laid up a great deal of work for you."

  "In what shape, pray?"

  "Questions. Somehow, as we read, we get up difficult questions, thatnobody can answer, and that we are not all agreed upon; and then bygeneral consent we refer them to you."

  Mr. Murray watched the tiny tongues of flame which were darting up roundthe tea-kettle, where Maggie sat supplying small sticks and resinouspine cones to feed the fire. The scene was as pretty as possible;Meredith roaming hither and thither collecting more fuel, and the shawlsand even the worsted lying about, with the gay, young figures, touchingup the gipsy view with bits of colour. He watched in silence.

  "Mosswood is the most delicious place we have ever seen," Flora went on.

  "Almost any place is good in October. How pleasant this veiled light is!What are you about, Maggie?"

  "This is the pot of pigeons, Uncle Eden; we are going to get them hot.The kettle boils; now would you like some coffee, Uncle Eden?"

  But Mr. Murray declared himself satisfied with tea. And in a littlewhile the scene became more gipsy than ever; except that gipsys are notsupposed to indulge in much refinement of china cups and silver spoons.Everybody was picking pigeon bones, however; and bread and butter, andcups of tea, and baked potatoes (which came out hot from the house,brought in a basket by Fairbairn), and peaches and pears to concludewith, were discussed with great enjoyment and amidst a great deal oftalk. Fenton arrived from the fishing to take his share; but I do notthink he was as glad to see his uncle as the others had been; and assoon as lunch was over he took himself away again. Then cups and platesand _debris_ were packed away into the cart; the little fire had burneditself out; fingers were washed in Eastern fashion, somebody pouringwater over the others' hands; and at last worsted needles and knittingneedles came into play again, and the circle was made up around Mr.Murray, who declared himself to be quite refreshed and rested.

  "Ready for questions, Uncle Eden?"

  "Are the questions very deep?"

  "Oh, yes, Uncle Eden; none of us can answer them."

  "They had need be profound! How did they come up?"

  "From Meredith's book. Ditto was reading to us some delicious storiesabout the old Saxons, and their ways and their gods; and we have ever somany questions to ask you, Uncle Eden."

  "Have you any more of those Saxon stories on hand, Meredith?"

  "Plenty, sir."

  "Then I wish you would go on and read another; and so I should perhapsget into the atmosphere of your questions. Besides, I feel like beingluxurious and lazy in this warm, spicy air. Suppose we have a story now,and the questions by and by?"

  They were all agreed to that. Maggie settled herself to listencomfortably, and Mr. Murray lay on his elbow and looked thoughtfullyinto the reader's face, or into the blue-green pine wilderness around,or above to the quiet, clear blue which stretched over all; but if Mr.Murray's body was resting, I am inclined to think his mind was busyenough.