VIII.
_OLD JOE._
R Station was not much of a place. There were only about half a dozenhouses, as many barns, and one store, which was part of the littlestation-house. And there was no telegraph; but when our little girlsand their protector left the train, another gentleman promised to senda message to their parents from the next stopping-place.
There was not much to entertain the children, even had they been ina mood to be amused; and the hours dragged very wearily. The kindgentleman would have taken them for a walk in the pleasant pine woods,but they were so fearful lest they should miss the up train, which wasto carry them back to their mother and father, that they could not beinduced to lose sight of the railroad track. Maggie and Belle couldbe persuaded to do nothing but sit on the low bank at the side of theroad, and look up and down the long line of rail for the train, whichwas still so far away. Bessie, naturally more trusting and less timidthan the others, had more confidence in their new friend and what hetold her; but she would not leave her sister and Belle, and, moreover,was too tired to do more than wait with what patience she might. So the“bad hat” let them do as they would, furnishing them with some dinner,for which they had little appetite, and telling them droll stories,which could not draw forth more than faint smiles. But at last Bessiefound something to interest her.
There was an old colored man working around the station, cuttingwood, drawing water, and so forth, and he cast many a pitying glancetoward the sorrowful little strangers. Nor did he content himselfwith looking; for, having finished his work for the time, he walkedaway into the woods, and soon came back with a large leaf full ofwood-strawberries, and a bunch of scarlet cardinal flowers and yellowjasmine, which he offered to them.
Bessie took them, and, after thanking him prettily, divided them withMaggie and Belle; then, out of her own share, arranged a little bouquetfor Mr. Travers; for that, the “bad hat man” had said was his name.
“How pale and tired you look, my little girl!” he said as she fastenedit in his button-hole: “suppose you lie down and take a sleep? It wouldbe well if the others would do it too.”
They all thought they could not possibly do such a thing, “the trainmight go by” while they were asleep; but when Mr. Travers proposed thathe should spread his railway rug under the shade of the pine-trees,where they could not miss hearing the train, and said he would sitbeside them and wake them the moment it was near, Bessie and Bellefelt as if they should be glad to take advantage of his kindness. Forit was true that they were all three quite worn out with fatigue andexcitement. But Maggie was very decided in her refusal to take a nap,saying that she “never went to sleep except at night, when it was nouse to stay awake, there was nothing to do.”
But when the rug was spread beneath the trees, she took her seatupon it with the others, leaning her back against a great pine, withBessie’s head in her lap. Belle, too, cuddled close up to her; and Mr.Travers seated himself opposite, with his book.
“I wish I had a story-book for you, Maggie,” he said.
“It’s no matter, sir,” said Maggie, dolefully. “I’m not in good enoughspirits to read. I’d rather think about going back.”
“Suppose you pass the time by composing that letter you are to sendhome, telling of this adventure?” said the gentleman. “Here are apencil, and the back of a letter, if you’ll have them.”
Maggie brightened considerably at this suggestion, and gratefullyaccepted the kind offer.
Bessie lay with her head in Maggie’s lap, drowsily thinking howpleasant it would be to go to sleep in this nice place, if papa andmamma and baby were only here too. It was so cool and quiet. No oneseemed to be stirring in the cottages or the small station; not a soundwas heard but the gentle whisper of the breeze in the tree-tops, thechirp of the crickets, and the varied notes of a mocking-bird perchednot far from them. Then the spicy smell of the pines was so deliciousand balmy.
Not a human being was to be seen but their own party, and the old negroman, who now sat upon a wheelbarrow at a little distance, reading whatlooked like a leaf or two from a book. He seemed to read very slowlyand with great pains, pointing his finger along from word to word, andforming the words with his mouth, as people do who cannot read verywell; but he appeared to be very intent over it.
“I wonder what he is reading,” said Bessie to herself, as she sleepilywatched him: “it looks like a piece out of an old torn book. Maybe it’sa newspaper, and they have such a very little one this is such a verylittle place, and there isn’t much to tell about. I shouldn’t think itwas very interesting here.”
The last thing she saw before she went to sleep, was the old negro;and the first on which her eyes opened was the white-haired man, stillsitting there, poring over his leaf, as if he had not moved from thatspot; and yet she felt as if she had taken quite a long, refreshing nap.
She gently turned her head, and looked at her companions. Belle didnot appear to have moved, lying fast asleep with her cheek on Maggie’sdress, and her hat over her eyes, just as she had lain down. Mr.Travers sat with his back against a tree, his arms folded, his eyesclosed, and bareheaded. Bessie turned a little more, so that she couldsee Maggie.
Why! was it possible? Yes, surely: watchful Maggie was fast asleeptoo. The pine-tree against which she leaned did not shoot up with astraight, unbroken trunk, as they generally do, but was a kind of twintree, parting into two a foot above the ground, and forming a crook orfork. In this fork was the “bad hat,” and on the “bad hat” lay Maggie’shead, as peacefully as though it were the pillow of her own prettybed at home; and Maggie was as sound asleep as if it were that samefamiliar pillow. One dimpled hand loosely held Mr. Travers’ pencil, andthe paper lay fluttering unheeded on the ground at her feet. Bessiepicked it up lest the breeze should blow it away, and Maggie’s preciousthoughts be lost. But it was evident that the letter had not made muchprogress, for Bessie found only these words written:--
“OH, DEAR, DARLING UNCLE RUTHVEN,--Such a horrible, dreadful adventure!”
She would not disturb any of the others, but sat quiet a momentwatching them, then turned her eyes again towards the old negro.
“I think I’ll go speak to him,” she said to herself. “He is a greatwhile reading his paper, and I s’pose he can’t make it out very well.Maybe I could help him, and he was very kind to us.”
She rose softly, and walked slowly towards the old man. He looked upand smiled, saying,--
“Little Miss want for any ting ole Joe can do for her?”
“No, thank you,” said Bessie, now feeling rather shy of asking him ifshe could help him; then after a moment’s pause she added, “You werereading when I went to sleep, and you are reading now.”
“Yes, little Miss,” he answered, “Joe read most all de time when notrains on hand and he work all done up.”
“Is it a little newspaper?” asked Bessie.
“A newspaper?” he answered, spreading the sheet on his knee, andlaying his hand reverently upon it. “Yes, Missy, a newspaper what habsgreat news in it, de best news in de worl’,--de news how de Lord Jesuscome down to save sinners, and old Joe among ’em. Do little Miss knowdat news?”
“Oh, yes!” said Bessie, simply. “I always knew it. I’m glad you thinkit’s good news, Joe, then I know you love Him.”
“Sure, Missy,” said Joe, “how I gwine for help love Him when I knows Hedone such a ting for Joe?”
Feeling on the instant a bond of sympathy between herself and the oldnegro, Bessie slipped her soft little hand into his hard, black palm,as she said,--
“But some people who know it don’t love Him.”
Joe shook his head sorrowfully.
“Yes, an’ I bery sorry for dem folks; but I bery glad for Joe, and forlittle Miss too, for I ’spect she love Him by de way she speak, an’ Iknow de Lord love her.”
“Did you mean that was out of the Bible?” asked Bessie, looking at theprinted sheet which she now saw was torn, scorched, and soiled.
 
; “Yes,” answered Joe, triumphantly, “it out ob de Bible;” and he placedit in Bessie’s hand.
Yes, it was out of the Bible, two leaves: one containing the secondchapter of Luke, with the account of the Saviour’s birth; the other,part of the fifteenth and the whole of the sixteenth of Mark, relatinghis death and resurrection.
“I hab de beginnin’ an’ de end,” said Joe, “an’ I hab some more too,some ob my Lord’s own bressed words what He preach to His people;” andhe drew from his pocket a single leaf, containing most of the sixthchapter of Matthew.
“Is that all you have of the Bible?” asked Bessie.
“Dat’s all, Missy, but dey’s a deal ob preciousness in it: dey’s wordswhat bears readin’ ober and ober. To be sure, dey’s times when I getslongin’ for more; but I jes says, ‘Come now, old Joe, don’t be soongrateful. Ef de Lord had meant you to hab more He would ha’ sent ityou;’ and I tank Him for not lettin’ dis be burn up an’ for lettin’ mefin’ it ’fore it was blowed away by de wind.”
“Where did you find it, and how did it come so burnt and torn?” askedBessie.
“Foun’ it ober by Miss Sims’ house. ’Spect she use it for her bakin’,and when de bread done she trow it out, an’ de Lord He let old Joe fin’it. Bress His holy name.”
“Do you mean she baked her bread on the leaves of the Bible?” askedBessie, exceedingly shocked.
“’Pears like it, Missy. I ’spect she don’t know its wort’, poorwoman!” said Joe, with a pitying thought for the owner of the pretty,comfortable cottage, who was so much poorer than himself.
Bessie stood looking at him with a multitude of feelings strugglingfor expression on her sweet, wistful, little face. Indignation atthe treatment received by God’s Holy Word; pity, respect, and tendersympathy for the old negro,--were almost too much for her, and hercolor rose, and the tears came to her eyes.
“Little Miss feel so bad ’bout it as did old Joe,” he said, “but,Missy, dat was de Lord’s way to help old Joe. Long time he ben wantin’a Bible an’ save up he money, and hab mos’ enough; an’ one day a poorfeller come along what hab no shoes an’ hab cut he foot awful, an’ hemus’ go on to de city to see his chile what dyin’; an’ de Lord sayin my heart, ‘Joe, you gib dat money for shoes for dis poor feller,’an’ I couldn’t help it no way, Missy, an’ I buys him de shoes out destore. An’ he ain’t gone but little time, an’ I walkin’ roun’ by MissSims’ feelin’ down in de mout’ along ob my Bible; an’ a piece ob papercome blowin’ to my feet, an’ I picks him up, an’ ain’t he a bit out myLord’s book, an’ I sarch roun’ an’ fin’ noder one. Praise de name ob deLord what sen’ Joe such comfort till he hab more money!”
Bessie still stood silent, her heart too full for words at the simplestory of this old disciple’s self-sacrifice. And he had only thesethree leaves out of God’s precious Book, while at home there wereBibles without number for all who needed them. Oh! if she only had oneto give him. But here there was none,--yes, there was too.
Just before they left home, grandmamma had given to each of the littlegirls a Testament and Psalms bound together. She thought they might bemore convenient for daily use in travelling, than the handsomely boundBibles which they generally used at home; and if they should happen tobe lost would not be so much regretted. They had been carried in thelittle satchels all the way; and now, as usual, Bessie’s satchel hungby her side. The book was not large; but the print was good and clear,far better than that on old Joe’s cherished leaf, and what a world ofriches it would hold for him.
“I could give him mine,” thought Bessie, “and he would be so glad. Idon’t b’lieve grandmamma would mind if I gave away her present for sucha reason as this; and Maggie will let me use hers when I want to read.I think I ought to give it to him, and I know I would like to.”
“S’pose little miss kin read fus’ rate,” said Joe, interrupting herthoughts.
“Mamma says I can read very nicely,” she answered.
“Maybe she wouldn’t min’ readin’ out a piece. Some words most too hardfor Joe, but he kin listen fus’ rate.”
Bessie drew her satchel around, and unfastened it.
“Shall I read you some out of my own little Testament?” she said,drawing forth the book.
Joe’s eyes brightened.
“If Missy be so good,” he said, eagerly. “She hab it all dere: all howde Lord Jesus lib an die, an lib again, an’ talk for his people?”
“Yes,” said Bessie. “What would you like me to read?”
“If Missy read where He say, ‘Let not your heart be trouble’; an’ howHe go to make a place for dose what follers Him.”
Bessie found the fourteenth of John, and read it carefully anddistinctly, the old man listening intently. When she came to thefourteenth verse, he raised his hand and said,--
“I t’ought so. I t’ought dere war a promise like dat. Now I know suresome day He gib me a Bible, I allers do ax it in His name, an’ Hepromise allers stan’ sure.”
“Yes,” said Bessie, thoughtfully; then added, in a tone of someself-reproach, “but, Joe, I forgot that promise once this morning.”
“But Missy mind it now?”
“Yes,” answered Bessie. “You see we had such a dreadful trouble, Joe,and it’s not quite over yet. Somehow the cars took us away without papaand mamma, and we didn’t know where we were going, and there was noone to take care of us. It was worse than once when I was lost in NewYork; cause that was my own country where I live, and the policemenwere there; and it seemed to me that even our Father couldn’t help usin such a trouble as this. But in a minute I knew that was wrong, and Iasked Him to send us help: and right away he did; for a kind gentlemancame who we saw in the cars before, and he is taking care of us, andwill take us back to papa and mamma. That is the gentleman there by thetree.”
Joe nodded, as much as to say he knew, as indeed he did; for the storyof the little wayfarers had come to his ears. Little he thought when hefirst heard it, what a blessing they had brought to him.
“And, Joe,” continued the child, “I think maybe our Father had apurpose in letting us be run away with, and bringing us to this place.”
“Sure, Missy,” replied the old man. “He allers hab a purpose in whatHe do, an’ a good one too; but sometimes we don’t see it, we ain’tfait’ enough.”
“But I think I do see it now,” said Bessie, her tiny fingers stillresting on the blessed words of Jesus’ promise. “I think He sent mehere, so I could bring you my little Testament.”
“Yes, Missy. I ’spect He did, dat’s a fac’,” answered Joe, not takingin at once that she meant to give him the book; “an’ dose words doneJoe a heap of good. Yes: He send you here for read ’em to Joe.”
“But you don’t understand,” said Bessie. “I mean He sent me here to_give_ you the Testament. I think He meant you to have it, you asked itin His name. It isn’t all the Bible: but it has all about Jesus, and agood deal besides, and the Psalms too; and you will love it very much,won’t you?”
“Missy don’t mean she gwine fur gib Joe her own book?”
“Oh yes, I do,” answered Bessie. “I have another Bible at home, andpapa would give me as many as I want, and I can read my sister’s tillwe go home. I am going to give it to you for your own, Joe.”
The old man sat for a moment speechless with wonder and gratitude, thencovered his face with his hands.
“I t’ank de Lord fust, and you next, Missy,” he said, when he removedthem. “I t’ank Him, and bress His name, fur sen’ his little white doveto bring His word to ole black Joe. Yes, yes; for sure His promisestan’ in all place an’ all time. Missy fin’ it, an’ Joe fin’ it: de olean’ de young, de black an’ de white, de rich an’ de poor,--all who luband trust Him. He hear all, an’ do for all.”
He took the baby hand, and kissed it with a tender reverence that wasvery touching to see, but which the child in her innocence scarcelyunderstood.
“Shall I read some more?” she asked.
Joe t
hankfully assented; and she finished the chapter, and read alsothe fifteenth then, closing the book, placed it in the old black man’shand.
“De Lord know what’s in my heart, but I can’t speak it out no way,” hesaid, as he received it, drawing his rough coat-sleeve across his eyes;“but, Missy, I t’ink it a great t’ing to be de Lord’s little messengerto bring His word to his poor ole servant, what been thirstin’ for itso long.”
Belle had wakened while Bessie was reading, and sat up rather surprisedat her little friend’s occupation, but did not interrupt it.
“It’s just like my dear Bessie,” she said to herself; “she’s alwaysdoing somefin’ for somebody.”
She looked about her as she listened to the reading; for every wordcame distinctly in the deep stillness around. Maggie was asleep still,and Mr. Travers’ eyes remained closed; but as Belle watched his faceshe said to herself,--
“I guess he’s just pretending. If he was papa, I’d go and wake him up,and tell him he is. Maybe he finks Bessie would be too bashful to readbefore him if she fought he was awake.”
Perhaps Belle was right; for Mr. Travers woke or seemed to wake verysuddenly when Bessie ceased reading; and, looking at his watch, saidthat it was time for the train, and they must rouse the sleepingMaggie. This was done; and Maggie woke rather indignant at herself forgoing to sleep at all, and a little ashamed at finding all the othersawake before her.
“Why! Did you put that there, sir?” she asked, as Mr. Travers picked upthe hat which had proved such a comfortable pillow, and put it on hishead.
“Yes,” he answered, “I thought the tree rather a hard resting-place forthat little head in spite of the mass of curls which came between them,so when I saw it going down I popped in the ‘bad hat’ without yourknowing it.”
“I’m very much obliged to you, sir,” said Maggie. “I _wish_ I could dosomething for you.”
All the children were very grateful to this kind stranger who hadtaken such good care of them, and Belle said,--
“I wish I could too. If I was big I’d ask you when your birfdaywas; and I’d make you a pair of slippers, and a pin-cushion, and awatch-case, and every fing nice for a birfday present.”
“And I’d help,” said Maggie.
“And I,” said Bessie.
Here was ground for Maggie to build a new plan upon; and, in the fewminutes which passed before the train came, she had enough to thinkabout to keep her from feeling very impatient for its arrival.
And there it came, rushing up the long line of rail,--yet hardly fastenough for the little ones who had been so long away from their dearfriends,--hailed with clapping of hands, dancing steps, and gladexclamations: never was a train more welcome.
The place was alive in a moment. Women and children came out to thedoors and gates of the cottages, dogs barked, and hens cackled. Half adozen men, white and colored, seemed to spring out of the ground, readyto busy themselves on the arrival of the cars; and old Joe drew up hiswheelbarrow to the side of the track, ready for any chance trunk orbox which might need to be wheeled away, and bring him a few pennies.Joe was a rich man now, to be sure, rich in the wealth which shouldpave with shining gold the path he must tread to the heavenly mansionhis Saviour had gone to prepare for him: but he must still have a carefor his few worldly needs; and now that his one great desire had beengranted, he would yet put by something that he might have a little tohelp along such of his Lord’s work as should be given into his hand.
His hand was shaken, not only by the three children, but also by Mr.Travers; and they were gone: but their coming had brought light andgladness to old Joe; and, in his own simple language, he “will nebberdisremember dis day while de Lord remembers me.”
There they were,--mamma, and the two papas, baby, nurse, andDaphne,--still at the station at ----, and watching as eagerly for thetrain which was to bring back the sorely missed darlings, as thosesame little darlings were looking for the first glimpse of the dearlyloved faces of their “own people.” What joy there was! What huggingsand kissings! some happy tears too; and as for Mr. Travers, if he hadhad six arms to be shaken instead of two, they would all have beenin use at once. There was some time to spare before the arrival ofthe train which was to carry them on the right route, which had beenmissed that morning; and it would be still longer before kind Mr.Travers would be able to proceed on the journey he had so generouslyinterrupted, at some inconvenience to himself, for the sake of thelittle fellow-passengers who had so unconsciously attracted his noticethat morning.
They gathered in the small room, which seemed large enough to holdthem all now, and Mr. Travers was thanked over and over again, hisaddress taken by Mr. Bradford, and a promise drawn from him that hewould make his house his home when he should come to New York. Morethan this, Maggie privately drew from him the date of his “birfday,”which happened to be on the twenty-fifth of December: and you may liketo know that this “plan” of Maggie’s was successfully carried out;and, last Christmas, Mr. Travers received a box containing a pair ofslippers worked by Maggie, a pin-cushion by Bessie, and a watch-caseby Belle. I do not believe that Mr. Travers thought the less of thembecause there were some crooked stitches in them,--especially in thetwo last,--and that the pocket of the watch-case was so small that byno possibility could a watch be squeezed therein.
But he did not part from the children that day without some tokenof remembrance, for when Maggie inquired about his birthday, andrepeated,--
“I would so like to do something for you, sir, you was so kind to us,”he answered,--
“You can do something for me, Maggie. Give me your little Testament,if you will; and when I look at it, it will bring back to me some verysweet recollections of this day.”
Dear Maggie, only too happy when she could give or do any thing whichbrought pleasure to another, readily consented, thinking as Bessie haddone, that “grandmamma wouldn’t mind when she knew the reason;” and thesecond little Testament went forth on its mission of love and life, inthe hands of a new owner.
And pray what do you think had been that ungrateful baby’s greeting toher little sisters’ new friend? Nothing less than that oft-repeated“Oh, bad hat!” But being rested and at her ease now, she was notfretful, and was more astonished than displeased at its reappearance.We ought not to call her ungrateful either. She was glad to see hersisters, and offered plenty of “love Maggies’” and “love Bessies’,”which meant a tight squeeze of the little arms about the neck; butshe could not understand the distress and anxiety their absence hadoccasioned on all sides, nor did she know what care had been bestowedupon them by the owner of the hat.
But Mr. Travers having taken off the hat and placed it beneath hischair, Baby made the most of her opportunities, and, seating herselfon the carpet behind him, pulled it forth, and turned it over andover on her lap. Finding on a closer acquaintance that it was not soobjectionable as she had thought it, she proceeded to try it on; and,nothing daunted by the fact that she was nearly extinguished by it,was, greatly to the amusement of all, presently discovered toddlingblindly about the room, with her small head and dimpled shoulders quitehidden; while from beneath the hat came a muffled voice saying, inlisping tones,--
“Nice hat! oh, nice hat! Baby on nice hat.”
Bessie almost fell from her mother’s lap, and Belle from her father’sknee, with laughing at this joke, and Maggie hopped around and squealedin an ecstasy of fun and delight; and even the grown people could nothelp laughing heartily at the little “turncoat,” as nurse called herpet.