A Tale of the Kloster Part 2

"Merciful Father," thought I, "where am I to find food for this little glutton?" as I respected his request by handing him such a generous portion of the loaf as I thought would surely keep him quiet for the rest of the day.

It was evident I must take account of his appet.i.te, and leaving him in the hut, closing the door behind me and fastening it so, as I thought, that such a small child could not open it, I marched forth to the nearest settler's, to one of the families that had followed me in my baptism by Brother Beissel.

After loading me up with _Swartzbrod_, a rough sort of rye bread, but exceedingly wholesome, and with a small crock of apple b.u.t.ter and some smoked meat of the pig, besides giving me a jug of fresh milk, the good sister remarked with that inquisitive hunger for news that is ever present in the lonely dwellers of the wilderness, whether I had company, because I took so much more than usual.

In my confusion, I hurriedly said "Nay," but recollecting I must not lie, I shouted back as I started off rapidly, "Yea, a little, not much,"

leaving the good sister staring at my retreating form as though she greatly feared much piety had made me mad.

As I approached the clearing, burdened with my rich cargo--even to this day I smile when I think how eager and anxious I was to get back and find that boy safe--I saw that the door of my hut was wide open. I fairly gasped with apprehension. Had he been spirited away as mysteriously as he had come? I rushed into the cabin letting my load fairly fall from me as I looked about everywhere and into the most foolish places for this strange child. Then out again and to the old pine where I had first found him; but he was not there; back again toward the hut, my heart in my throat, I went, but how joy possessed my soul when hearing a gurgling and a bubbling and a laughing and crowing behind me I turned about like a flash and there sat the blessed rogue, his bare legs and feet swinging and splashing, kicking up and down, in my spring.

When he saw me he looked up with such a glad knowledge of me that I forgot to scold him for his vandalism and catching him in my arms I carried him crowing and kicking to the hut, where he filled himself so full with milk and ment and the fresh rye bread that I was greatly alarmed immediately lest he might become ill from his gorging; but he minded it not in the least and ere many hours had gone by was clamoring for more, so that I doubted not the rest of my hermit life would be spent in making trips to the settlements for something to eat for this hungry mannikin.

Indeed, I should like to tell of all his bright ways and the wonderful things he would say all during the remaining summer we lived here in this lonely spot. At first he often cried for "mamma," but gradually he seemed to forget her and greatly delighted me by calling me "faver,"

which in later years he changed to the more affectionate _Vaterchen_. I tried almost every day for a long while to get him to tell me his name, but beyond a.s.suring me it was "Ta.s.s," I never could learn anything. At first, I called him _Sohnlein_, but soon after, upon reflecting that he was English and not German, it seemed but just that I should make his name at least half in his mother tongue, and this I did by calling him Sonnlein, for a precious little son he was to me.

The cloak I preserved most carefully hoping that some day it might help me find my boy's parents; especially did I care to keep it because I had noticed worked on it in pretty red letters the initials "C. S.," but beyond this there was absolutely nothing about the cloak or any of the child's clothing in which I found him, to tell who he was or whence he came; nor did any reports come as to any lost child, so that I was confirmed in my first belief that he was mine for the rest of my days.

CHAPTER IV

WE LEAVE THE HERMITAGE

In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.

--Bible.

Thus our souls came closer and closer to each other, day after day, and grew into a love that bound us together as one for life. It seemed as though the father and mother love he had lost were all given to me; for children must turn their love toward somebody or something, as surely as the rivers run to the sea whence they come. As for me, I doubt not that the love which is in every man, more or less, saint or sinner, turned me so strongly toward this pretty little fellow, with all his taking ways, as if he had been my own flesh and blood.

In this sweet companionship we drank in together the springtime splendor all about us, when the brook flashed bright as silver and the wooded hill in the rear of my hut was gay with the songs of the little birds, their delicate harmonies frequently emphasized by the harsh cawing of the crows flying in a thin line overhead, while from the deep recesses of the forest came now and then the long drum call of some proud partridge calling to himself with lordly air, so I imagined, his numerous wives, or, perchance, bidding indignant defiance to some intruding brother partridge.

But the glory of the spring soon merged into the glowing beauty of summer, and all too soon for me and Sonnlein, who like the birds and the beasts were ever out of doors, came the fall, with its magnificent coloring of hill and woods; but none the less the shortening days and the keen air were portentous of the dying year and the cold, dreary winter that ere long would shut us off still more from my followers from whose visits I received such great comfort and delight.

But the inevitable, inquisitive mischief makers also came all too frequently, and these, especially they that held me as a heretic, presuming on my meekness of temper could find no sneer or taunt or insult too mean not only for me but even for my innocent boy, who the malicious ones pretended to believe was a child of mine and some nameless woman's.

Had my persecutors known how my soul raged within me, the chains of my will being scarce stout enough to hold my wrath, when they thus insulted Sonnlein and spat even on him as being the "devil's sp.a.w.n,"

just as they oft spat on me, they had not been so bold; for though I always have had the heart of a priest my Maker saw fit to give me the strength and stature of a warrior, so that it had been no great task for me to pick up my tormentors bodily and hurl them headlong into the brook--and at times I wondered whether I had not been justified had I done so. But my wise father had early impressed on me that any weakling can resent injury, while only a truly great nature can forgive; that the more we learn to forgive, the more we grow like Him who suffered everything and forgave all. So in all the afflictions mine enemies heaped upon me, especially through my boy, the chains, I rejoice to say, always held, though greatly strained, and instead of revenging myself I merely uttered an inward prayer for my tormentors, and in the long years allotted to me--so wonderful is G.o.d's wisdom--it hath fallen to me more than once that they who treated me so vilely came to see the error of their ways and were glad thereafter to hold me in their esteem and friendship. Truly, time and loving patience conquer all evil.

As the fall advanced I found though I had left the world, the world had not left me, and the melancholy temptations which troubled me every day did prognosticate to me misery and afflictions, so that Sonnlein not infrequently seeing me in this gloomy state would confide to his playmates, the birds and flowers, that I was cross. Indeed, I came to the conclusion that under the pretense of holiness, I was doing nothing but nourishing my own selfishness, and I knew full well that selfishness cometh only from the Evil One.

But while I was in this state matters were shaping themselves for my redemption from this narrow, hermit's life; for when I withdrew from the world a number of brethren and sisters were living the solitary life dispersed in the wilderness of the Canestogues; but strangely enough and yet perhaps not so strange--for the right human heart leaneth toward the companionship of others--during the summer a camp was laid out for all the Solitary at the very spot where now the Kloster stands, and where at that time Brother Beissel, the leader of the hermits, among whom were the four Eckerling brothers, lived down in the meadow, near a spring, and nigh the Cocalico, which name hath its ancestry from the Indian _Hoch-Hale-kung_, meaning "the den of serpents," for that the low lands along this stream were infested with water snakes.

The little camp on the Cocalico grew rapidly, accessions coming from many directions. The Germantown Dunkers after the death of their patriarch, Alexander Mack, a veritable saint, sent no less than seventeen members. Others came from Falkner Swamp, from Oley and elsewhere, so that the settlement soon grew into large proportions. But for all these good people there was no cabin or house large enough for the holding of worship, as the little hermit huts were barely big enough for their own occupants. The largest building within the _Lager_ was a cabin built against the hillside, wherefore this cabin was called the _Berghaus_ (Hill-house); but even this was too small to hold the love feasts and the meetings.

While matters were thus progressing on the Cocalico, I was greatly surprised one morning, just as day was breaking, to see Brother Beissel coming toward my hut, Sonnlein for a wonder being still asleep. As he saw me, he hastened forward with his gentlest smile; for though he could be as stern and forbidding as Jove, our brother could, when it pleased him, use all the wiles and arts of Mercurius; so that, though I have ever been loth to suspect others of aught ill, I could not help wondering what new thing was on foot for tempting me.

"Surely, my dear brother, I marvel not that thou preferrest this paradise to our mean little place on the Cocalico," he said; for he always affected great humility, even though with all his G.o.dly zeal he was exceedingly proud and stubborn and often harsh and violent.

"Paradise it may be," I replied quietly, "and yet every earthly paradise hath its serpent to lead the sons of Adam into sin."

"Thou meanest the child?" he insinuated.

"Nay, not the child," I repeated with unbecoming heat. "Were it not for his dear companionship I had been unable long ago to remain apart from the world."

"It is verily true the hermit life hath its temptations and tribulations," remarked Brother Beissel, so quietly I should not have suspected anything had it not been he was watching my face closely all the while. But with all my simplicity I was not such an utter stranger to his dissimulation that he could wind me about his fingers like wax.

"So," I merely responded, "it hath, verily."

After a few minutes, during which he coughed lightly a few times and scratched the ground with his stick, he inquired indifferently, "Hast heard of our change on the Cocalico?"

"Naught much," I replied, also indifferently, being determined to make him come to the point, if it took all day, for I knew he had something at heart which in good time I should hear.

"Hast heard we have almost completed a large building where our Brothers and Sisters may worship?" he inquired.

"I have heard so," I made answer, still with seeming indifference.

And then he paused even longer than before and scratched the earth thoughtfully, neither of us saying a word. Then he resumed as though partly speaking to himself and partly to me: "This house which we have erected to the glory of G.o.d we have called Kedar, 'the house of sorrowfulness'"; after another pause, "it containeth a hall for the meetings and likewise still larger halls furnished for holding the love feasts. There are also a number of _Kammers_ intended for the Solitary, after the manner of the early Greek Church."

"Ye have built wisely," I said, still quietly.

Then the longest pause of all, at the end of which he placed his hands meekly across his breast, saying to me as he turned about to leave: "When thou art minded to leave thy hermit's life, we shall give thee welcome at Ephrata."

He had actually proceeded, but slowly as if in deep thought, almost beyond the farther boundary of my little orchard, when he turned about gravely and came back again like one who had forgotten something. "Now,"

thought I, "shall I see the kernel of the nut he hath been cracking"; for I had not stirred, knowing he would return, and as he came toward me he said, watching me closely: "Our good Brother Michael Wohlforth exhorteth the Solitary with exceeding harshness and violence."

"Still they should heed him for I hear he is a G.o.dly man," I replied.

"But Brother Weiser and his followers can no longer bear Brother Michael Wohlforth's temper."

"A little temper will not hurt the Solitary."

"But Brother Wohlforth hath been recalled as teacher," continued Brother Beissel.

"There be many among you to take his place," I a.s.sured him.

"Nay, not so many, for upon the recalling of Brother Wohlforth, he was succeeded by Brother Emanuel Eckerling."

"A worthy man," I said strongly.

"But he preacheth too long; sometimes he discourseth even six hours without a stop."

"Surely he is of most excellent zeal," I murmured, smiling inwardly.

"The Solitary incline to think six hours be too long even for preaching," said Brother Beissel doubtfully.

"Six hours' preaching doth seem of rather great length," I admitted; "still an eloquent man maketh the time fly on swift wings."