The Basket of Flowers

by Christoph von Schmid

"James," said the huntsman, "take this stout stick in your hand. I have used it to assist me in climbing up the mountains, but I can easily get another. And here," he added, drawing from his pocket a little leather purse, "is some money that I received in payment for some wood in the village where I passed the night."

"I gladly accept the cane," replied James, "and I will cherish it in remembrance of a generous man; but it is impossible for me to accept the money, as it is payment for wood that belongs to the Count."

"Good old James," the huntsman replied, "if that is your fear, you may take the money with an easy mind. Some years ago a poor old man, who had lost his cow, could not pay for the wood which he had bought from the Count. I advanced him the sum, which he paid to the Count, and thought no more about it. Now he has got out of his difficulties, and yesterday, when I had forgotten all about it, he returned it to me with hearty thanks. So you see it is truly a present which God sends you."

"I accept it," said James, "with thanks, and may God return it to you. See, Mary," he said, turning to his daughter, "with what goodness God provides for us at the very commencement of our banishment, here almost before we have passed the limits of the country, and sends us our good old friend who has given us money. Courage, my daughter; our heavenly Father will watch over us." The huntsman then took leave of them with tears in his eyes.

"Farewell, honest James," said he, "farewell, my good Mary," extending his hands to both. "I always thought you innocent, and I still think so. Do not despair. Do not surrender your honesty because you are suspected. Yes, yes; whosoever does well and has confidence in God, may be assured of His protection. May God be with you."

Hand in hand Mary and her father now continued their way through the forest, not knowing at what spot they would rest, and without a friend in the world but God.

CHAPTER VIII.

FINDING NEW FRIENDS.

Although their hearts were thus sustained by faith in God, the journey on which Mary and her father now started was a long and painful one. For days they were unable to find a lodging, and the little money with which they had started was at last exhausted, and they had no prospect of earning more. Although it was sorely against their will, they were at last compelled to ask for bread at the hands of charity. Here again they were made to feel the humiliation of their position; for in going from door to door, seeking for help which they so sorely needed, they met with scarcely anything but rebuffs, and sometimes indeed with abuse. Often their meal consisted only of a small piece of dry bread, washed down by water from the nearest fountain. A luxury would occasionally come their way in the shape of a little soup or some vegetables, and here and there, some scraps of meat or pastry, given to them by some kind-hearted housekeeper. After days spent in this way, they were thankful at night to be allowed to sleep in a barn.