Part 2 (2/2)

”Yes, I can,” said Frida. ”Mother taught me a number of words, and I can say 'Good-morning,' and 'How are you to-day?' Also mother taught me to say the Lord's Prayer in English. But I do not know much English, for father and mother always spoke German to each other.”

No more could be got from the child then, and the simple service was gone on with; and when the small procession set off for Dringenstadt, the kindly men took it by turns to carry the little maiden in their arms, as the walk through the forest was a long one for a child.

In the churchyard of the quiet little German town they laid the mortal remains of Friedrich Heinz, to await the resurrection morning.

Tears rose to the eyes of many onlookers as Frida threw herself, sobbing, on the grave of her father. Wilhelm and Elsie strove in vain to raise her, but when Pastor Langen drew near and whispered the words, ”Look up, Frida; thy father is not here, he is with Jesus,” a smile of joy played on the child's face, and rising she dried her tears, and putting her hand into that of Elsie she prepared to leave the ”G.o.d's acre,” and the little party set off for their home in the Black Forest.

Darkness had fallen on all around ere they reached the Dorf, and strange figures that the trees and bushes a.s.sumed appeared to the superst.i.tious mind of Elsie and some of the others as the embodiment of evil spirits, and they wished themselves safe under the shelter of their little huts.

That night the little stranger child mingled her tears with her prayers, and to Elsie's amazement she heard her ask her Father in heaven to take greater care of her now than ever, because she had no longer a father on earth to do it. Little did the kneeling child imagine that that simple prayer was used by the Holy Spirit to touch the heart of the wood-cutter's wife.

And from the lips of Elsie ere she fell asleep that night arose a cry to the Father in heaven for help. True, it was but

”As an infant crying in the night, An infant crying for the light, And with no language but a cry.”

But still there was a felt need, and a recognition that there was One who could meet and satisfy it.

At all events Elsie Horstel clasped her blind babe to her heart that night, and fell asleep with a feeling of rest and peace to which she had long been a stranger.

Ah! G.o.d had a purpose for the little child and her brown Bible in that little hut of which she as yet had no conception. Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings He still perfects praise.

CHAPTER V.

THE WOODMEN'S PET.

”Lord, make me like the gentle dew, That other hearts may prove, E'en through Thy feeblest messenger, Thy ministry of love.”

Pastor Langen, ere leaving Dringenstadt, visited the hut in the Black Forest where Frida had found a home.

His congregation, with two or three exceptions, was a poor one, and his own means were small; yet he had contrived to collect a small sum for Frida's maintenance, which he had put into the hands of the Burgermeister, who undertook to pay the interest of it quarterly to the Horstels on behalf of the child. True, the sum was small, but it was sufficient to be a help; and a kind lady of the congregation, Fraulein Drechsler, said she would supply her from time to time with dress, and when she could have her now and then with herself, instruct her in the Protestant faith and the elements of education. Frida could already read, and had begun to write, taught by her father. Every effort was being made to discover if the child had any relations alive. The Burgermeister had put advertis.e.m.e.nts in many papers, German and English, but as yet no answer had come, and many of the wood-cutters still held the opinion that the child was the offspring of some woodland spirit. But in spite of any such belief, Frida had a warm welcome in every hut in the Dorf, and a kindly word from every man and woman in it.

The ”woodland child” they called her, and as such cherished and protected her. Many a ”bite and sup” she got from them. Many a warm pair of stockings, or a knitted petticoat done by skilful hands, did the inmates of the Dorf present to her. They did what they could, these poor people, for the orphan child, just out of the fullness of their kind hearts, little thinking of the blessing that through her was to descend on them. The day of Pastor Langen's visit to the hut, some time after her father's funeral, Frida was playing beside the door, and on seeing him coming up the path she rose from the spot where she was sitting and ran eagerly to meet him.

But though unseen by her, he had been standing near for some time spell-bound by the music which, child though she was, she was bringing out of her father's violin, in the playing of which she was amusing herself.

From a very early age her father, himself a skilled violinist, had taught her to handle the bow, and had early discovered the wonderful talent for music which she possessed.

The day of which we write was the first one since her father's death that Frida had played on the violin, so neither Wilhelm nor Elsie was aware that she could do so at all. The pastor was approaching the cottage when the sound of music reached his ears, and having a good knowledge of that art himself, he stood still to listen. A few minutes convinced him that though the playing was that of a child, still the performer had the true soul of music, and only needed full instruction to develop into a musician of no ordinary talent. As he drew nearer his surprise was great to see that the player was none other than the beautiful child found in the Black Forest. Attracted by the sound of steps, Frida had turned round, and seeing her friend had, as we have written, bounded off to meet him. Hearing that Elsie had taken her babe and gone a message to the Dorf, he seated himself on a knoll with the child and began to talk to her.

”How old are you?” he asked her.

”Seven years and more,” she replied; ”because I remember my birthday was only a little while before Mutterchen (I always called her that) died, and that that day she took the locket she used to wear off her neck and gave it to me, telling me always to keep it.”

”And have you that locket still?” queried the pastor.

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