EVERY morning and evening the Bible, which they read by the light of their wood fire, proved of the greatest possible comfort, not only to the aged grandfather, but to Louis, who seemed to have grown grave and thoughtful beyond his years. Together they committed whole chapters to memory, "for then," said the aged pilgrim, "should our stock of firewood not hold out, or should we, from any cause, be unable to light our fire, we shall not be entirely deprived of the help and encouragement of the word of God.”
“I fear," said Louis one evening, "that my dear father met with some accident or was frozen to death upon the mountain, and so never reached the village. Were he still alive he surely would have found some way, with the help of the neighbors, who were always kind to us, of coming to rescue us from our snow prison. He would know quite well that the small stock of food left in the chalet could not last very long, and how could he be content to remain in the village, and think that we were starving, perhaps dying here?”
“I feel sure," replied his grandfather, "that if Francis is, as I hope and believe he is, still alive, he would have done everything within his power to bring us help; but perhaps he could not get the neighbors to share his fears, and single-handed he could not have set us free.”
“Do you really think," asked Louis, "that our neighbors, with whom we have always lived on the most friendly terms, would have been less kind than the miners, of whose courage father has told me, who risked their lives in a brave attempt to rescue some of their comrades who were shut up in a coal-mine, where an explosion had taken place?”
“I will not hide from you, my dear Louis," replied his grandfather, "that I cannot quite understand why it is that no one has come to our help; for if even, as you fear, your father has met with some accident, every one in the village would know of our danger, and must have wished to come to our help. But let us trust in God, and wait patiently till He sees good to deliver us. Let us not forget how many are worse off than ourselves. We have food that with care may last for some weeks. We are also able to enjoy for some time each day the warmth and cheerful blaze of a fire, and by its light to read the promises of God's blessed book.”
The days passed slowly by, but, acting on the advice of his grandfather, Louis began to find new ways of employing himself. He had often seen his father twine straws into long cords, which during the short months of summer were found of great use in tying up pea-stalks, and also for binding sheaves of oats and maize. After a little practice Louis found that he could twine the cords with a fair degree of skill. Sitting as near the fire as he could with] safety, he worked in the space lighted by its cheerful glow. His grandfather handed him the straws, and often made the time pass pleasantly by telling him something that he had read, for during the years that he had been unable to work the old man had been a great reader, many books of history and travel having been lent him through the kindness of a well-to-do neighbor.
One day when Louis seemed more than usually silent over his work, his grandfather noticed his tears were falling, though he tried to hide them, and begged him to tell the cause of his sadness. Louis was silent for a few moments, then said, "I am sad because I cannot forget that my self-will and disobedience have brought all this trouble not only upon myself, but upon you, my dear grandfather. Had I not turned a deaf ear to your warnings of danger, and gone so near to the side of the ravine, you would not have fallen and sprained your ankle, and so been unable to return with my father and his flocks. I know you have forgiven me, but I cannot forgive myself.”
“Do not let your mind dwell upon it, my dear boy," said his grandfather; "or if you think of it at all, let it be a life-lesson to you, that our actions, for good or evil, have an influence reaching far beyond ourselves—they touch the lives of others, who are either helped or hindered by them. But let us turn our minds to some more pleasant subject. Can you not sing or repeat to me the Harvest Song the schoolmaster taught you only a few weeks ago?”
Louis dried his tears, and began to sing:
“HARVEST HOME”
“The summer now is ended,
The autumn late has come,
The fields we early tended
Send late their yearlings home.
Sing merrily, for though
The Alps are white with snow,
The sun shines bright below,
The sheaves stand in a row.
Praise ye the Lord!
"The wood is under cover,
The barn is stored with hay,
The loads of oats and barley,
Move slowly on their way.
Sing merrily, for though
The Alps are white with snow,
The sun shines warm below,
The sheaves stand in a row.
Praise ye the Lord!”
For several days Louis had noticed that his grandfather did not seem as well as usual.
His strength appeared to be failing, and he ate less and less of the maize porridge that formed their daily food. Louis was greatly distressed, and begged him to drink a little of the coffee, which still remained untasted.
After a good deal of urging he allowed Louis to prepare him a cup, though the boy firmly refused to drink any himself, saying, "No, grandfather, I am young and strong; maize and milk are all I need. You need something more.”
Though the door and window of the chalet were completely blocked with snow, Louis, after a good deal of labor, contrived one morning to bore a small hole through the snow, and found to his great delight that the sun was shining brightly. "Grandfather," he said, "only yesterday I heard you say that if you could only get a little fresh air it would do you good. We have a spade; I feel sure that I can clear a small space just outside the door, where if only for a few feet you will be able to enjoy the sunshine and fresh breezes of the mountain.”
Louis set to work with a will, and though he found the work much harder than he had expected, the thought that he was doing something that would be of real use gave him strength and courage to persevere. After digging for about an hour, he felt well repaid for his trouble when, leaning upon a shepherd's staff, and supported by the arm of his grandson, the old man stepped out into the cleared space and enjoyed for a little while the beauty of the morning, though, as he pointed out to Louis, it would not last long, as dark masses of clouds were rising behind the hills, and he thought that in a few hours another and still more severe storm might be upon them.