Part 1
ON the banks of the Amstel, stood a farm-house. The house had once been handsome and imposing-looking, but had been so neglected that it seemed to be going fast to ruin. The trees of the avenue leading to it had long been untrimmed, the paths were overgrown with weeds, the flower-beds had run wild, and the house itself, whose grey walls were half hidden by the branches of the aged oaks and tangled shrubs, was hastening to decay.
The windows in front were blocked up, and here and there a rent in the old walls or a fallen stone gave the place the appearance of an uninhabited ruin. But the back of the house was in a different state, and the flourishing condition of the well-kept orchard and kitchen gardens showed that the dwelling was still occupied, although even here a human form was seldom seen.
Beside the farm-house, and separated from its grounds by a thick hedge, stood a cottage in a similar state of neglect, and evidently empty; its garden, too, was overgrown with weeds, its walls were weather-stained, its shutters closed, and its iron gate so overrun with nettles and vines, that nature herself seemed to bar the entrance against all intruders.
A notice on a board announced that the cottage was to rent, and being pleasantly situated, it had been rented again and again, yet all who came to it were sure to leave it at the end of the first quarter, and at last it seemed to have gained such an evil repute that the notice-board had become a fixture, and like the gate, was overrun with weeds and wild flowers.
What could be the reason? It was neither damp nor dreary in itself, and so conveniently near the bustling town, yet so rural, that many a worn city man would have been glad to escape the turmoil of the town in a place so peaceful.
You will be curious to know then, why it was so deserted, and will wonder still more when I tell you that it was owing to the extraordinary behavior of the owner of the estate, who, although willing to rent the house, drove away everybody who took it!
“Why,” you will say, “he must have been crazy!” And so indeed he was, poor man; so crazy that he had gained for himself the nickname of “The Bear of the Amstel,” partly from his rude and even violent behavior towards everyone who came near him; and partly from strange fits of growling like a wild animal with which he was seized every now and then, so that he could be heard even by persons passing by the house.
Of course these occasional attacks of insanity; together with his habitual surliness and strange reserve, drove everybody away from him. No one entered his house; nobody could even live near him; and thus he was completely deserted by all except one old faithful servant, whose boast it was that she had lived nearly fifty years with her strange master without having ever left him, even to visit the neighboring city of Amsterdam.
Now and then this strange man might be seen in his orchard walking up and down the path by the thick hedge, waving his arms or pressing his hands to his frenzied head, like one in desperate sorrow or anguish of mind. Then, after a while, he would stop, look fixedly at an old apple tree, whose moss-grown and tangled boughs told that it had been untouched for years; and then, with a cry of pain, he would rush wildly into the house, growling loudly like a wild and furious beast.
It was plain that some terrible remembrance haunted him, and that anguish of heart deprived him at times of his reason. No wonder that people refused to live near him. Moreover, some who had done so, complained that he had pelted their children with stones, if they happened to go near the hedge when he was in the orchard, and if a chicken or any other living thing entered the place, he would destroy it. Thus the poor Bear of the Amstel was deserted by everybody, and the cottage allowed to stand unoccupied for years.
But one morning the notice-board was again taken down, masons and carpenters and gardeners were seen about the place putting it in order; and a boat laden with furniture came up the stream from Amsterdam. Then, at last one evening, a family carriage stopped at the cottage gate, and a gentleman, with his wife and four children, entered the house and took possession of their new home. Lights were soon gleaming through the crevices of the long-closed shutters, and the deserted cottage, after many a long day, had at last found inhabitants.
How was that? you will ask. Was the new-comer ignorant of the character of the owner? No; he knew all about the Bear of the Amstel, but he greatly needed a country house on account of his wife’s delicate health, and had long been seeking one not too far from Amsterdam. He was a merchant of that old city, and of course must needs be in his office every morning. The deserted cottage was therefore just in the right place for him, and, although he had been warned by his friends of the character of the owner, he hoped to overcome his surliness by showing him every possible kindness, for Mr. M. was a true disciple of the Lord Jesus Christ, and had great faith in the power of grace, and the help of his blessed Master.
“At all events,” said he to his wife. “we will make the attempt with the Lord’s help, and see what comes of it.” And thus he and his wife took up their dwelling in the long-forsaken house.
Every morning after this he was seen on his way to Amsterdam with his two elder children, who attended school there; and every evening they all returned together with cheerful hearts and happy faces to talk over the busy scene they had left, and rest in their rural home. Morning and evening prayer and praise were heard in that once deserted house, and it may be that the sounds were sometimes wafted across the solitary path of the strange owner, as he wandered up and down his orchard; but, if so, he took no heed, and seemed utterly unconscious of their presence.
As the taking of the house had been all arranged by correspondence, Mr. M. and his strange landlord had not yet met each other, and, therefore, for the present, there was nothing to disturb the peace of the merchant and his happy family.
To be continued.
ML 05/14/1933