Story 2--Chapter II.
In due time they had got clear of the town, and were trotting along a straight country road as fast as their feet would carry them. Whether the Tyrolese mountains lay to the right or left, before or behind them, they knew not nor seemed to care. They had left their cruel uncle, and the mere thought of this made them happy. They were but little children, and did not reflect on any dangers they might have to encounter.
It was in the dim twilight of early morning that they happened to meet a woman driving a cart filled with cans of milk which she was taking to the town. A sudden thought seemed to strike Toni, for, going straight up to her, he said—
“Please, mother, can you tell us the way to the mountains?”
“To the Tyrolese mountains?” answered the woman, in a tone of astonishment, standing still, and looking at the group with much interest. Perhaps she had children of her own, and pictured them as little wanderers like those before her. “You are all right so far,” she continued, “for a sister of mine left me to go there but the other day, and drove straight along this road. I watched her till she was out of sight. I am afraid I cannot direct you further. But what do you three children want there?” she inquired.
“We are going to look for grandfather,” Nanny answered in haste, “and he will give us some breakfast, for we are so hungry.” At these last words she cast a longing glance at the milk cans.
“So hungry, are you?” said the woman, looking at her with real motherly tenderness; then taking out a tin measure, she filled it to the brim, and putting it into her hands, said, “Drink it all up, my dear; and it is milk from a Tyrolese cow, too,” she added, smiling. “And we must not forget your good horses. Will they take milk too, I wonder?” offering one of the boys a full can, which she filled a second and a third time. Then she drove on, scarcely giving the children time to thank her.
“It was God sent us our breakfast,” said Toni. “Father used to say that He sees us, though we cannot see Him, and knows what we are in want of as well as we do ourselves. But now the sun is rising, and we must ask Him to take care of us to-day.”
Nanny stepped out of her little carriage, and under a wide-spreading beech-tree, the branches of which overshadowed them, the children knelt down, and in their own simple way entreated God’s blessing.
Just at that moment the sun, like a ball of fire, rose above the horizon and shed over them his golden beams. We can fancy how lovely everything must have appeared to these little ones, who had never known the beauties of sunrise in the country.
“It seems as if God was holding his shining hand above us and blessing us,” said Toni.
“Oh, how pretty!” exclaimed Hans. “Everything about us is so bright; even the very stones; and the little blades of grass look covered with diamonds, but it is the dew which God sends to refresh them. How good He is! He cares for the plants as well as for us, but He made them, so they are His children too.”
“And look at this,” cried Nanny, full of glee, taking up an acorn cup; “only see what a large drop of dew inside—it must be a bath for the tiny insects.”
Whirr, whirr—up flew a bird from its nest.
“Ah, have I frightened you, you poor little thing?”
“That must be a lark,” said Toni; “look how high it flies, singing all the time; up and up it goes as if it meant to go right up to heaven.”
“Greet father and mother for me, pretty bird,” cried Hans, “for they are in heaven.”
“Yes, yes, and for Nanny too,” said the little maiden; and touching the tips of her small fingers with her lips, she threw them up as if wafting the kisses upward.
“Perhaps the lark will carry our prayers to God,” said Hans.
“Oh no,” replied his brother, looking very thoughtful. “God does not need any messenger to take our prayers to Him, for He is always with us; and even if we just think in our hearts what we wish to ask Him, He knows it all quite well. Father said He was close by at all times.”
“Hark what a pretty song the lark is singing! What a pity we cannot hear what it is about!”
“I will tell you, Nanny, what I fancy he would say,” said Toni. ”‘I thank the good God that He has given me wings, so that I can fly up to the blue sky, and that He has made the sun so warm, and the fields so green and soft where I build my nest.’”
“That is nice, Toni. But listen! there is a bee humming as it flies by. What does it say, do you think?”
“Well, perhaps it is buzzing, ‘Praise God that He lets me rove from flower to flower to sip the dew and gather honey, and that I am such a happy little bee.’”
“Now then,” continued the little girl, “there is a large caterpillar creeping along on the ground. It cannot say anything; it neither sings nor hums.”
Toni was silent a moment; then taking both Nanny’s hands into his, he went on, “I was just thinking, my dear little sister, of something mother used to tell me about that. The caterpillar thinks, perhaps, ‘I certainly am not so beautiful now as many other things in the world, but I have life and can enjoy it. I thank God for that; and some day, when I am tired, He will teach me how to spin myself a cradle in which I may lie down and sleep; then, when I am quite rested, God will come and wake me, and instead of creeping slowly on the ground I shall fly up a lovely thing with wings.’”
“And then, you know,” said Hans, following out his mother’s words, which his brother had recalled, “it will be with our parents something like this butterfly, for first they lived on earth, then God laid them down to sleep in the churchyard, and at last He will come and wake them, and they will be happier and more beautiful than they ever were before.”
“How can you tell what the birds and insects think about?” said Nanny, looking inquiringly into her brother’s face.
“Of course we can only fancy it all,” Toni replied; “but mother often talked about these things, and taught us to be kind to dumb creatures, and never to hurt even the smallest insect that God had made, because they can feel as well as we; and then she would tell us so many pretty stories of their different ways, that it makes me think sometimes they must have some sort of reason like human beings. But now step in, Nanny; we must not talk any longer, but go on our way, or we shall never reach grandfather’s.” The little one settled herself comfortably in the cart, her brothers harnessed themselves once more, and away they went.
