Or, the Swiss Cripple.
DEAR CHILDREN, ―I am about to tell you a story of a poor neglected child, who, unlike most of the young readers of GOOD NEWS, never knew the fostering care of kind parents. This little girl’s name was Eliza. She was not an English girl, but was born in Switzerland, and lived there; a land far away over the sea, noted for its mountains and its lakes, and its beautiful scenery. But, beautiful as it is, the following story proves too plainly that sin is there, as well as in every other land, and that the beauties of natural scenery cannot remove it; that hearts are as evil amid the brightest scenes as in the most uninteresting. Poor Eliza was a cripple, deformed from her birth; and as her mother died while she was yet an infant, and her unhappy father was given to drinking and dissolute habits, she grew on, neglected, uncared for, and subjected to unkind treatment; the result of which was that she became morose, dishonest, and even cruel in her habits; all of which was expressed in her countenance. Weak and sickly, too, she was of little service to any one; so that in all respects her position was a most hopeless one. There was no one to take compassion on the poor cripple; and as her miserable father could not attend to her, she was at last placed with a family by whom she was received, not out of pity for her condition, much less from the love of God, but merely in consideration of a small sum of money. By these people she was sent out to beg, and all day long was compelled to sit by the roadside, to crave of passers-by some little pittance, which she was required to carry home in the evening. Home, did I say? She had no home! Disliked by those among whom she lived, she was ill-treated, half fed, and ill-clad; nor was there anything about her, either in person or character, to win their pity or regard. She returned their ill-usage with hatred, and wanted but the power to be as cruel as they. Often, as she sat by the roadside, hungry and thirsty, she saw happy children pass by, led by the loving hand of father or mother, well fed and clothed, and smiling cheerfully; or she heard the merry shout of school-boys hastening home; yet the sense of her own desolation, instead of softening her heart, did but harden it the more in evil. From morning, till the shades of evening fell, she sat on a certain stone by the roadside, which she had selected as her post; and there, with no kind friend to speak a word of consolation or instruction, no book to lead her thoughts to better things, she sat, and nourished her morose and bitter feelings, till, as time rolled on, her hatred towards those who treated her so cruelly gave birth to a burning desire of revenge, which she only sought opportunity to gratify. Of this desire she made no secret, and of course brought down punishment on her own head, which only added fuel to the fire in her sinful heart. Cruelty had made her cruel, so that she could take pleasure in injuring or destroying helpless dumb animals. Hunger had taught her to steal and contempt, derision, and blows had made her ill-tempered and forbidding in her manner towards everyone. Hateful and hating, where should she find a friend? Only in the “Friend of sinners,” for surely no other could love one so detestable in character and disposition. Oh, my dear young readers, what a truly wonderful thing is the love of God! But this young sinner had no GOOD NEWS to tell her about the love of Jesus no Bible, no friend. And so she grew on worse and worse, till she was about fourteen years of age. At this time she became very ill, and one day was unable to leave her chamber as usual, to take her accustomed place by the roadside. Yet no one took the trouble to come upstairs to inquire into the cause, and she was allowed to lie there unattended and uncared for till the next day. All that long and weary night her pain, increased by the bitterness of her feelings towards her cruel foster-parents, kept her sleepless. She tossed to and fro upon her bed of straw, meditating revenge. Conscience whispered, but she closed her ear. The evening star shined down upon her through the casement, as if it would draw her thoughts heavenward but she hid her face in the straw, for she feared to look upon it, it seemed so like the eye of God piercing the dark recesses of her sinful heart, and exposing even to herself the terrible wickedness she meditated. Often when smarting beneath the taunts and blows of her brutal foster-parents, she had threatened to avenge herself upon them by setting fire to the house! and now, as she tossed to and fro upon her bed of pain, this wicked thought recurred to her again and again, until it took entire possession of her mind. Morning dawned at last, but the sweet fresh light of early dawn brought no better purpose to her hardened heart. Sin had the dominion and when another day had passed away, and she had been left to shift for herself, unattended by anyone in the house, her exasperation reached its highest pitch, and, exerting all her remaining strength, she rose from her bed and executed the wicked threat she had so often uttered.
The house was fired!
Having accomplished her wicked purpose, she went down stairs, and opening the door of the room hi which her foster-parents were sleeping, she said, in tones of bitter mockery, “See! I have done what I have threatened to do more than once!” And, as she spoke, the crackling of burning wood added terrible confirmation to her words.
How shocking, dear children, to think that a girl so young should have become so wicked! Does it not teach us the fearful power of sin, and the dreadful consequences of nourishing angry feelings in the heart?
The people of the house, pale and terror-stricken, rushed upstairs to try and extinguish the flames, but to no purpose and soon the alarm-bell was heard, tolling heavily through the dark night, rousing the slumbering neighbors from their warm beds to come and help. And the flames rose higher and higher, and the dark sky reddened, and frightened faces gazed upon the terrible flames, roaring in their might from every door and window; and people ran hither and thither, some to fetch water, others to save what they could from the devouring element. But the wicked girl who had done all the mischief sat quietly on a trunk in the road at a little distance, and seemed to feel a malignant gratification in the fearful scene! That night this bad girl was sent to prison, and shortly afterward was condemned to the house of correction for a period of some years; but so lost was she to any sense of shame, that instead of being shocked at her position, she was even glad when she saw the tower in which she was to be confined. Nor when she entered the cold stone cell, with its bare walls, its grated window, and massive iron door, did she feel any dread, or manifest any sorrow for what she had done; but, in sullen indifference to everything, quietly lay down upon the straw pallet, and fell asleep. Oh, what fearful havoc sin can make even in the hearts of the young! Is it not a hateful thing, when thus seen in its true colors?
But I must tell you more about Eliza next month, if the Lord will.