"Never mind," said the young man; "I must go on now. Where can I put my horse?"
"Here in this shed, sir. There is a bit of hay and some beans, with which he can amuse himself while we are gone."
The path was not steep, for it was cut in a zig-zag form, sometimes leading over pastures, and sometimes through woods so thick that the moonlight could not penetrate them; but the guide was provided with a torch of pine, to prevent the danger of a false step. For the first part of the journey they travelled on in silence, the guide amusing himself with forming conjectures as to the object of Alfred's visit to the charcoal burner after night had set in. "Can it be," he said to himself, "a relation from the Indies, or from Algeria? I never heard that Gervais had any relations in those parts. Or a creditor? No, that cannot be, for my honest friend, I am sure, does not owe any one a single penny. Or has he gained a prize in the lottery? He would consider it a sin to risk the smallest fraction upon such a hazard. Ah! perhaps some one has left him a legacy. So much the better, if it is so. I shall be well paid for the trouble I have had. He is too good a fellow not to reward me to the utmost of his power."
Thus it was that the guide employed himself in vain conjectures. When the uncertain light by which they travelled, whether of the moon or of the torch, fell sufficiently clear upon Alfred's features, he examined them attentively, as if he could have read his secret in them. His curiosity made him not less impatient to reach the charcoal furnace than the young man himself. At length, by a sudden turn of the path, it appeared at once before them. The wood, heaped in the form of a cone, and covered with a thick coating of earth, was burning slowly, openings being made at different heights on the mound, to give a passage to the flames, and to afford a proper proportion of atmospheric air, to keep them alive.
Alfred, though born in the neighbourhood, had never before visited a charcoal furnace; but, new as the sight was to him, he did not pause long to observe it. His attention was arrested by the hut which stood near, built something in the form of a tent, and composed of planks leaning on both sides against a cross-beam, which rested on two others placed one at each end of the building. This kind of hut is common to most of the charcoal burners of these mountains, where they make their dwelling during the whole of the summer months, having no other bed than dried leaves—no other apparent occupation than cutting and piling up the wood, and watching their fires. One moment only Alfred stopped to gaze upon this humble dwelling, compared with which the châlets of the cowherds were almost splendid mansions; the next instant, his attention was arrested by something far more interesting. A chorus of youthful voices burst upon his ears, accompanied by one deep, clear bass, which was powerful enough to support and regulate the trebles. They were singing the following hymn, to a beautiful Swiss air, well known to Alfred as one used in the churches of that Protestant canton—
"Look to Jesus, weary wanderer,
Sinful, wretched as thou art;
He is precious; thou shalt know it;
Only trust His loving heart.
"Trust it wholly; it was broken
That thine own might be at peace;
Every sin its streams atone for;
He can bid all anguish cease.
"Now He reigns above the heavens,
And shall reign for evermore;
But His mighty arm is guarding
Those for whom He died before.
"He shall come again in glory;
All creation shall bow down;
Those who seek not His salvation
Must endure His awful frown.
"Wait upon Him, then, His people;
Let Him be your constant strength;
Lean upon Him daily, hourly;
Ye shall reign with Him at length.
"May the Spirit of adoption,
Which our Heavenly Father gives,
Help us all and each to please Him
More each moment of our lives."
(To be continued.)
Envy shoots at others and wounds itself.
We should often have reason to be ashamed of our most brilliant actions, if the world could see the motives from which they spring.