Chapter 1. The Log Cabin and Its Inhabitants.
IN the early part of the 18th Century, there lived, at the border of a dense and extensive forest in Germany, a wood-chopper by the name of Robert Hartmann, with his six sons. William, the youngest of these, was, at the beginning of our story, about five years old. His mother had died shortly after his birth, and so he grew up like a wild tree of the forest. His father and five brothers, who were much older than himself, were engaged in chopping wood in the forest, which they brought in small donkey carts to the nearest town, and sold to the people.
William’s father was an industrious man, who had always earned a good living. For the privilege of gathering the dry wood and chopping down certain trees which the owner would select, he paid a small sum of money annually. Wood, in those days, was not as scarce as now in Germany, and so the owner was glad to have a man to cut down the dry limbs and dead trees, and still receive a little money for it.
When the sons grew up and were able to help their father, the circumstances of the family improved even more. All five of the sons were strong and healthy and soon knew how to handle the ax as well as their father. The income naturally increased from year to year, and one could notice the signs of prosperity in the old log cabin.
But were those who lived there really happy? Ah, no; one thing was lacking to make this family really happy. The old wood-chopper was altogether unconcerned about his soul’s salvation, and he never spoke to his children about God, nor His word; or ever thought of taking them where they could hear the word of God. Schools were very poor then, and no one was compelled to send his children to school, and whenever anyone could read and write, he was considered somewhat of a learned man by the country people; so the sons of our woodchopper grew up in utter ignorance; their only desire was to earn money and have an easy life.
This condition of things was so much sadder, since the father had, in his young years, been shown the way of salvation by his own dear God-fearing mother, and had heard many earnest words from her lips, but he had not, for many years, thought about the Lord Jesus, the salvation of his soul, or of his dear. mother’s teachings, till God Himself brought him to think about these things through a serious accident. It happened one day while he was chopping down a tree that it fell unexpectedly to the ground, just in the direction where the old man was standing. Although he quickly stepped aside, one of the strong branches struck him to the ground, hurting him so badly that his sons had to carry him home. William, who was helping his brothers to gather the dry sticks and bind them into bundles, was looking on when the accident happened, and, crying aloud, he followed the sad procession home. The old man soon became conscious again, but complained of having dreadful pain. The older sons bound him up as well as they knew how, and left him, going back to the woods, where they stayed for a whole week.
William was alone with his father, who suffered a great deal, and the thought of death came with great power ever his soul. The sins of his whole life seemed to awaken and condemn him. One thing, especially, troubled him much—the thoughts about his poor mother, whom he had secretly left many years before, and about whom he had never bothered himself since. What might have become of the poor and lonely widow? Was she still alive, or had she died of a broken heart, sorrowing over her prodigal son?
These were sad days for the old woodchopper. The troubles of his soul were harder to bear than the pain of his body. With fear, yes, horror, he thought of the dark, never-ending eternity he was going to enter. What his mother had so long before told him, came back to his memory in living power. He knew he was a wicked and lost sinner, who had righteously deserved eternal damnation. Deep sobs constantly come from his burdened heart, and the tears ran down his sunken cheeks in streams. No one was able to speak a word of comfort to him. His elder sons thought only of themselves, and left the sick man to his fate; they even laughed about his soul-troubles and mocked him when he wept. Only William, who was now nine years of age, clung to his unfortunate father, with a tender love. For hours he would sit at his bedside, and did all that he was able to do according to his little strength, but he was not able to comfort him in his great distress, as he knew nothing of the Lord Jesus, the only One able to bring comfort at such an hour.
Many weeks passed thus in fear and sorrow. Many times William heard his father sob: “O God, be merciful to me a sinner!” Once in a while William would slip away into the near forest, and fall on his knees and entreat the Lord for grace and mercy for his dear father. He began to tell William what he had once heard from his dear mother about the wonderful love of God and the work of the Lord Jesus Christ, God’s Son. He would tell as well as he could remember—for he had no Bible—the story of the birth of Jesus, His life and His works here on earth, and of His death on the cross. Later, he told him of the creation of the world, of Adam and Eve, the fall of man; of Cain and Abel, of the flood, and the patriarchs, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob; of the children of Israel coming out of Egypt, and of Moses and Joshua. William listened with the closest attention, and the words of his suffering father made a deep impression on the tender heart of the boy.
By and by a change came over the sick man; the expression of his face became quiet and peaceful; at times a happy smile crept over his haggard face, while he would tell of Jesus and His love; and his eyes would turn in gratitude heavenward. William was very happy to see this change in his father, although he did not understand the cause.
One day, when the sun was shining brightly, the sick Man ventured once more to leave his bed, and father and son sat at the door of the cabin, while at their feet was lying the faithful dog, Caesar. The older sons had gone into the forest to shoot game. Before the father’s accident, they had done it secretly, but since he was obliged to stay in the house, they went poaching whenever they chose; of course, keeping a good look-out for the game-keeper. The old man noticed it with sorrow, but his admonitions and warnings were not heeded.
As the two were comfortably seated together the father began, “O, my child, my darling! how wrongly I have acted towards you, and your brothers when they were young. I have never spoken to them about the Lord Jesus. I never drew their attention to their responsibility towards a holy God, and now I am reaping the fruits of my unfaithfulness. My sons do wickedly, without fear; and my word has no power. They mock me and turn their backs on me, and walk in the paths of sin, but I have deserved all this.”
A sob arose from the heart of the old man, and the tears were running down his pale cheeks. William noticed it, and asked with deep emotion, “Why have you deserved this, father?”
“Alas, my dear child,” said the sick man, while fondly putting his thin hand on his son’s head; “for several reasons. I was a naughty and disobedient boy, and for this alone, I deserve to have disobedient children. My mother was a widow, who loved the Lord Jesus and feared God. Her little house was on the other side of this forest, several days’ journey from here. I was her only child; she brought me up with great love and tenderness, and early instructed me in the word of God, but I would not mind her. When I grew older, I spent most of my time loitering through the field or forest; at last, I drifted into bad company, and committed all kinds of roguish tricks, and to escape the reproof of my mother, I ran away. Since that time I have not seen her, nor heard of her. I only had the strength to go to her, and ask her forgiveness; but it is too late, forever too late!”
“Is she still alive?” asked William, greatly interested.
“I do not know, my boy,” responded the wood chopper; and again came a heavy sigh over his quivering lips. “I hardly think so; she would be very old now. But even if she still lives, I shall never see her in this world again. My days are numbered. Only, I desire one thing; if she is still on the earth, that she might know how deeply I have repented of my sins, and that I have found refuge in Jesus, who is now my hope, and who has washed me from all my sins in His own precious blood.”
ML 06/06/1909