The Potato Child and Others Part 3

"Bob does not know me," replied the boy; "I know him."

Just then Tommy's attention was attracted by a flock of little brown birds pa.s.sing over their heads. One of the birds flew low and fluttered as if wounded, and fell in the dust near, where it lay beating its little wings, panting and dying. The boy tenderly picked it up.

"Somebody's. .h.i.t him with a sling-shot," said Tommy, carelessly.

The boy smoothed the bruised wing, and straightened the crushed and broken body. The bird ceased fluttering.

"I'm most sorry," said Tommy, "I didn't forgive Bob. It makes me feel bad, what you told me about his having no home. Now, mother is something like you. She don't mind one's being poor. Why, if I took Bob home with me, mother wouldn't seem to see his clothes and ragged shoes. She'd just talk to him and treat him like he was the best dressed boy in town.

There's Bill Logan came home to dinner with me once. Mother made me ask him. He is a real poor boy; has to work. His mother washes. He didn't know what to do nor how to act. He kept his hands in his pockets most all the time. Aunt Lilly said it was shocking. But mother said, 'Never mind.' She said she was glad he had his pockets; for his hands were rough and not too clean, and she thought they mortified him. Father went and kissed her then. Don't tell this. I don't know what makes me run on and tell you all these things. I never spoke of them before. But I know father was a poor, young working man when he married mother."

The boy raised his hand, and the sparrow gave a twitter of delight and flew heavenward.

"Why," exclaimed Tommy in amazement, "you've cured him! He is all right.

How did you do it? Do you feel sorry for the sparrows as well as Bob?"

"I pity every sparrow that is hurt," said the boy, "and isn't Bob of more consequence than a sparrow?"

"I wish," said Tommy, "I hadn't fought with Bob. It was most all my fault. I've a good mind to tell him so. I wish I was better acquainted with you. If I played with such a boy as you are, now, I'd be better I am certain. Suppose you come after school nights and play in our yard.

Never mind your clothes. Can't you come?"

"Yes, I will come if you want me to," answered the boy, looking steadfastly at him a moment; "but now I must be about my father's business."

He stooped, lifted the bag of tools to his shoulders, and before Tommy could stay him had moved some steps away.

"Don't go yet, tell me some more about what you'd do," and Tommy turned to follow him.

But was it the boy? And was that a bag of tools on his back? It had grown strangely longer and heavier now, so that it dragged on the ground, and the face was the face of the Picture, and lo, it turned toward him, and the hand was raised in benediction and farewell, "I am with you always," and he was gone.

"Oh! come back, come back," sobbed Tommy, reaching out his arms and struggling to run after him.

"Poor boy," said his mother, wiping the blinding tears from his eyes, "your sleep didn't do you much good."

"I've not been asleep," said Tommy; "I've been talking with--with--Him,"

and he spoke low with a longing reverence and pointed to the Picture.

"It was a dream, my child."

"Mother, it was a vision. I saw Him, when He was a little boy in His own town, Nazareth. And, mother, I even told Him it wasn't much of a place to live in. He talked to me about Bob. He said you knew Him. I saw him cure a little bird. And oh, mother, He said He would be with me always.

He is a little boy like me! I know what to do now. He showed me. I must find Bob; I must have him forgive me. I want to bring him home with me into my bed for to-night."

He stopped. "Mother," he said solemnly, "to-morrow is His birthday."

A Nazareth Christmas

"Now, tell us, mother, again--as ever this night--the story of our brother's birth."

"Yes, dear mother, and not forgetting the star; for us no story is like this, not even the story of young King David, although in truth, that is a goodly tale."

"Then sit, children; lend me your aid with the gifts; and now, as dark comes on, while yet your father and brother are not returned from their work, I will repeat again the oft-told story. I see not how I can forget aught, for it seems ever before me.

"You must know it was between the wet time and the dry when your father and I went up to Judea to be enrolled. Bethlehem was our city. There were a great many journeying in our company to the House of Bread. I was not strong in those days; and so your father obtained an a.s.s for me to ride, while he walked by my side. We traveled slowly, and the early night had already set in when we pa.s.sed where Rachel rests, and reached the village. In front of the inn at which your father intended stopping, he left my side a moment, while he went to arrange for our stay; but he straightway returned, saying there was no room for us. So we were compelled to go farther; and it was late,--how late I know not,--before we found rest; for at every inn where your father knocked the answer was the same: 'No room!' 'No room!' Your father bore up bravely, though he had the harder part; while, in my childishness, I was fain to kneel in the chalk-dust of the road, and seek what rest I could. But he upheld me, until, at last, one inn-keeper, seeing what a child I was in truth took pity on me and said:

"I am able to do no more for you than for my poor cattle; but I can give you shelter with them in the cavern stable and a bed if only straw."

"And, children, I was very thankful for this. I had been told before that to me a Prince should be born; that, girl as I was, as mother, should clasp in my arms a Savior-child. I believed the words of the angel,--for was I not of the house of David?--and ever treasured them in my heart. Now, how strange should it be that not in my peaceful Nazareth, not in this, our own home, but: there, and that weary night of all nights, beside me on the straw should be laid my infant son!

"I knew immediately what to call him, for, as I have often told you, the angel had named him 'Jesus.' 'Even so,' the angel had said; 'for he shall save his people from their sins.' I have wondered much what that means for your brother."

"Watch well your work, children! Burn not the cakes. Fold with care the mantles and the coats. This garment we will lay aside for patches. It repays not labor to put new to old; and, James, test well the skins before you fill them with the wine. We know not to whom your brother bears the gifts of his handiwork to-night, but he knows who needs them most, and naught must be lost or wasted.

"Where was I in the story, children?"

"The baby on the hay, sweet mother."

"Ah, yes, I mind me now. I took him in my arms. To me no child had ever looked the same. But now, a marvel! The rock stable, which before had seemed dark indeed, lighted only by our dim lamps, suddenly shone full of light. I raised my eyes, and there, before and above me, seemingly through a rent in the roof, I beheld a most large and luminous star.

Verily, I had not seen the opening in the roof when I had lain me down, but now I could do naught else but look from my baby's face beside me, along the floods of light to the star before.

"And now, without, rose a cry: 'We are come to behold the King. We are guided.' And, entering the stable, clad in their coats of sheepskin, with their slings and crooks yet in their hands, came shepherds, I cannot now recall the number."

"I had wrapped my babe in his clothes, and had lain him in his manger.

And now it was so that as soon as their eyes fell upon his face, they sank to their knees and worshiped him."

"'Heard you not,' spake a white-bearded shepherd to me; 'heard you not, young Mother Mary, the angels' song?'"

"'Meseems I have long heard it, and can hear naught else, good father,'

I answered."

"To us it came,' he said, 'in the first watch of this night, and with it music not of earth.'"

"Afterward came the learned ones from the Eastern countries,--I know not now the land. The gifts they brought him made all the place seem like a king's palace; and with all their gifts they gave him worship also."

"And I lay watching it all. And it shall be always so, I thought."

"But these, though wise men, were not of our race, and could not follow the guiding star with our faith. Wherefore, so much stir had they made throughout the kingdom, inquiring publicly concerning this, your brother, that, through the jealousy of Herod, great was the trouble and misery that fell upon the innocent after their going."

"But hearken, children; I hear even now your father and your brother coming from their work. Place quickly the gifts within the basket."

It is a gentle figure that bends among mother and children, and a tender voice that questions:

"Shall I bear forth the gifts?"

"They are ready now, my son. Even this moment thy brother James placed the last within the basket, but canst thou not partake of the evening meal before thou goest with them? Thou art but a lad, to go forth alone after a day of toil."

"Nay, but I must be about the Master's work; and, look, the stars are rising. I should tarry not, for they who toil long rest early."