The Day They Got Their Skates

by Lucy Fitch Perkins

Part 3 of 3

Father and Mother Vedder sat up late that night. Mother Vedder said it was to prepare the goose for dinner the next day.

When the Twins woke the next morning, the fire was already roaring up the chimney, and the kitchen was warm as toast. They hopped out of bed and ran for their wooden shoes. Mother Vedder reached up to the mantel shelf for them. Truly, the hay was gone—and there in each shoe was a package done up in paper!

"Oh, he did come! He did come!" cried Kat. "O Mother, you're sure you didn't build the fire before he had got out of the chimney?"

"I'm sure," said Vrouw Vedder. "I've made the fire on many a St. Nicholas morning, and I've never burned him yet!"

The Twins climbed up the steps to their cupboard bed and sat on the edge of it to [169] open their packages. In Kit's was a big St. Nicholas cake, like the one in the shop window! And in Kat's were three cakes like birds, and two like fish!

"Just what we wanted!" said Kit and Kat. "Do you suppose he heard us say so?"

"St. Nicholas can hear what people think," said Vrouw Vedder. "He is coming [170] to see you to-night at six o'clock, and you must be ready to sing him a little song and answer any questions he asks you."

"How glad I am that we are so good!" said Kat.

"We'll see what the Saint thinks about that," said the mother. "Now get dressed; for Grandfather and Grandmother will be here for dinner, and we're going to have roast goose, and there's a great deal to do."

Kit and Kat set their beautiful cakes up where they could see them while they dressed.

"I do wish every day were St. Nicholas Day," said Kit.

"Or the day before," said Kat. "That was such a nice day!"

"All the days are nice days, I think," said Kit.

"I don't think the dog-cart day was so very nice," said Kat. "We tore our best clothes, and they'll never, never be so nice again. That was because you didn't mind!"

"Well," said Kit, "I minded as much as [171] I could. How can I mind two things at one time? You know how well I can think! You know how I thought about Vrouw Van der Kloot's cakes. But I can't think how I can mind twice at one time."

"I don't suppose you can," said Kat. "But anyway, I'm sorry about my dress."

Just then Vrouw Vedder called them to come and eat their breakfast.

Father and Mother Vedder sat down at the little round table and bowed their heads. Kit and Kat stood up. Father Vedder said grace; and then they ate their salt herring and [172] drank their coffee; and Kit and Kat had coffee too, because it was St. Nicholas morning.

It was snowing when, after breakfast, Kit went out with his father to feed the chickens and the pigs, and to see that the cow had something very good that she liked to eat. When they had done that, they called Kat; and she helped throw out some grain on the white snow, so the birds could have a feast, too.

It snowed all day. Kit and Kat both [173] helped their mother get the dinner. They got the cabbage and the onions and the potatoes ready; and when the goose was hung upon the fire to roast, they watched it and kept it spinning around on the spit, so it would brown evenly.

By and by the kitchen was all in order, and you can't think how clean and homelike it looked! The brasses all around the room had little flames dancing in them, because they were so bright and shiny. Everything was ready for the St. Nicholas feast. The goose was nearly roasted, and there was such a good smell of it in the air!

After a while there was a great stamping of feet at the door; and Vrouw Vedder ran with the broom to brush the snow off Grandfather and Grandmother, who had skated all the way from town, on the canal. When they were warmed and dried, and all their wraps put away, Grandfather and Grandmother Winkle looked around the pleasant kitchen; and Grandmother said to Grandfather,

[174] "Our Neltje is certainly a good house-wife." Neltje was Vrouw Vedder. And Grandfather said,

"There's only one better one, my dear." He meant Grandmother Winkle.

By and by they all sat down to dinner, and I can't begin to tell you how good it was! It makes one hungry just to think of it. They had roast goose and onions and turnips and cabbage. They had bread and butter, and cheese, and sweet cakes.

"Everything except the flour in the bread, we raised ourselves," said Vrouw Vedder. "The hens gave us the eggs; and the cow, the butter. The Twins helped Father and me to take care of the chickens, and to milk the cow, and to make the butter; so it is our very own St. Nicholas feast that we are eating."

"A farmer's life is the best life there is," said Father Vedder.

They sat a long time at the table; and Grandfather told stories about when he was a boy; and Father Vedder told how Kit and [175] Kat learned to skate; and Kit and Kat told how they saw St. Nicholas riding on a white horse, and how he sent them the very things they wanted; and they all enjoyed themselves very much.

After dinner, Grandmother Winkle sat down in the chimney corner and called Kit and Kat.

"Come here," she said, "and I'll tell you some stories about St. Nicholas."

[176] The Twins brought two little stools and sat beside her, one on each side. She took out her knitting; and as the needles clicked in her fingers, she told this story:

"Once upon a time, many years ago, three little brothers went out one day to the woods to gather fagots. They were just about as big as you are, Kit and Kat."

"Were they all three, twins?" asked Kat.

"The story doesn't tell about that," said Grandmother Winkle; "but maybe they were. At any rate, they all got lost in the woods and wandered ever so far, trying to find their way home. But instead of finding their way home, they just got more and more lost all the time. They were very tired and hungry; but, as they were brave boys, not one of them cried."

"It's lucky that none of those twins were girls," said Kit.

"I've even heard of boy twins that cried, when dog carts ran away, or something of that kind happened," said Grandmother [177] Winkle. "But you shouldn't interrupt; it's not polite."

"Oh!" said Kit very meekly.

"Well, as I was saying, they were very lost indeed. Night was coming on; and they were just thinking that they must lie down on the ground to sleep, when one of them saw a light shining through the leaves. He pointed it out to the others; and they walked along toward it, stumbling over roots and stones as they went, for it was now quite dark.

"As they came nearer, they saw that the light came from the window of a poor little hut on the edge of a clearing.

"They went to the door and knocked. The door was opened by a dirty old woman, who lived in the but with her husband, who was a farmer.

"The boys told the old woman that they had lost their way, and asked her if she could give them a place to sleep. She spoke to her husband, who sat crouched over a little fire in the corner; and he told her to give them a bed in the loft.

[178] "The three boys climbed the little ladder into the loft and lay down on the hay. They were so tired that they fell asleep at once. The old man and his wife whispered about them over their bit of fire.

" 'They are fine-looking boys; and well dressed,' said the old woman.

" 'Yes,' said the old man, 'and I have no doubt they have plenty of money about them.'

" 'Do you really think so?' said the wife.

" 'I think I'll find out,' said the wicked farmer. So he climbed up to the loft and killed the three boys. Then he looked in their pockets for money; but there was no money there.

"He was very angry. And he was very much afraid—wicked people are always afraid."

"Are all afraid people wicked?" asked Kat. She wished very much that she were brave.

"M-m-m, well—not always," said Grandmother Winkle.

[179] "The wicked farmer was so afraid that he wanted to put the bodies of the three boys where no one would find them. So he carried them down cellar and put them into the pickle tub with his pork."

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" screamed Kat, and she put her hands over her ears. Even Kit's eyes were very round and big. But Grandmother said,

"Now, don't you be scared until I get to the end of the story. Didn't I tell you it was all about St. Nicholas? You wait and see what happened!

"That very same day the wicked farmer went to market with some vegetables to sell. As he was sitting in the market, St. Nicholas appeared, before him. He had on his mitre and his long robes, just as you see him in Kit's cake.

"Have you any pork to sell?" St. Nicholas asked the man.

"No," said the farmer.

"What of the three young pigs in your brine tub in the cellar?" said St. Nicholas.

[180] "The farmer saw that his wicked deed was found out—as all wicked deeds are, sooner or later. He fell on his knees and begged the good Saint to forgive him.

"St. Nicholas said, 'Show me the way to your house.'

"The farmer left his vegetables unsold in the market and went home at once, the Saint following all the way.

"When they reached the hut, St. Nicholas went to the pickled-pork tub in the cellar. He waved his staff over the tub, and out jumped the three boys, hearty and well! Then the good Saint took them through the woods and left them in sight of their own home."

"Oh, what a good St. Nicholas!" said Kit and Kat. "Tell us another."

"Well," said Grandmother Winkle, "once upon another time there was a very mean man, who had a great deal of money—that often happens. He had, also, three beautiful daughters—that sometimes happens too.

[181] "One day he lost all his money. Now, he cared more for money than for anything else in the world—more, even, than for his three beautiful daughters. So he made up his mind to sell them!

"St. Nicholas knew of this wicked plan; so that very night he went to the man's house and dropped some money through a broken window."

"Why did he do that?" asked Kat.

"Because the man was selling his daughters to get money. If he had money enough, he wouldn't sell them.

"The first night St. Nicholas dropped enough money to pay for the eldest daughter. The next night he took a purse of gold for the second daughter, and dropped it down the chimney. It fell down right in front of the man, as he was getting a coal to light his pipe. The third night the man watched; and when St. Nicholas came, the door flew open, and the man ran out. He caught St. Nicholas by his long robe and held him.

" 'O St. Nicholas, Servant of the Lord,' [182] he said, 'why dost thou hide thy good deeds?'

"And from that time on, every one has known it is St. Nicholas who brings gifts in the night and drops them down the chimney."

"Did the man sell his daughter?" asked Kat.

"No," said Grandmother. "He was so ashamed of himself that he wasn't wicked any more."

"Does St. Nicholas give everybody presents so they will be good?" asked Kat.

"Yes," said Grandmother; "that's why bad children get only a rod in their shoes."

"He gave the bad man nice presents to make him good," said Kit. "Why doesn't he give bad children nice things to make them good too?"

Grandmother Winkle knitted for a minute without speaking. Then she said,

"I guess he thinks that the rod is the present that will make them good in the shortest time."

[183] The clock had been ticking steadily along while Grandmother had been telling stories, and it was now late in the afternoon. The sky was all red in the west; there were long, long shadows across the snowy fields, and the corners of the kitchen were quite dark.

"It's almost time to expect him, now," said Vrouw Vedder; and she brought out a sheet and spread it in the middle of the kitchen floor. She stirred up the fire, and the room was filled with the pleasant glow from the flames.

Kit and Kat sat on their little stools. Their eyes were very big. At five minutes of six, Vrouw Vedder said,

"He will be here in just a few minutes, now. Get up, Kit and Kat, and sing your song!"

The Twins stood up on the edge of the sheet and began to sing:

"St. Nicholas, good, holy man,

Put on your best gown;

Ride with it to Amsterdam,

From Amsterdam to Spain."

[184] While they were singing, there was a sound at the door, of some one feeling for the latch. Then the door flew open, and a great shower of sweet cakes and candies fell [185] onto the sheet, all around Kit and Kat! There in the doorway stood St. Nicholas himself, smiling and shaking off the snow! His horse was stamping outside. Kit and Kat could hear it.

They stopped singing and hardly breathed,—they stood so still. They looked at St. Nicholas with big, big eyes. In one hand St. Nicholas carried two large packages; in the other, a birch rod.

"Are there any good children here?" said St. Nicholas.

"Pretty good, if you please, dear St. Nicholas," said Kit in a very small voice.

"Children who always mind their mothers and fathers and grandfathers and grandmothers?" said St. Nicholas, "and who do not quarrel?"

Kat couldn't say anything at all, though the Saint looked right at her! Vrouw Vedder spoke.

"I think, dear St. Nicholas, they are very good children," she said.

[186] "Then I will leave these for them and carry the rod along to some bad little boy and girl, if I find one," said St. Nicholas. "There seem to be very few about here. I haven't left a single rod yet." And he handed one big package to Kit, and another to Kat.

"Thank you," said Kit and Kat.

St. Nicholas smiled at them and waved his hand. Then the door shut, and he was gone!

Kit and Kat dropped on their knees to pick up the cakes and candies. They passed the cakes and candies around to each one. Vrouw Vedder lighted the candles, and then they all gathered around to see Kit and Kat open their bundles.

"You open yours first," said Vrouw Vedder to Kat.

Kat was so excited that she could hardly untie the string. When she got the bundle open, there was a beautiful new Sunday dress—much prettier than the torn one had ever been! Oh, how pleased Kat was! She [187] hugged her mother and her grandmother and her father and her grandfather.

"I just wish I could hug dear St. Nicholas, too," she said.

Then Kit opened his bundle; and there was a beautiful new velveteen suit, with his very own silver buttons on it! It had pockets in it! He put his hand in one pocket. [188] It had a penny in it! Then he put his hand in the other pocket. There was another penny!

"I'm going to see if there's a pocket in mine," said Kat.

She hunted and hunted and hunted. By and by she found a pocket. And sure enough, there was a penny in that too!

Then some presents came from somewhere for Father and Mother Vedder and for Grandfather and Grandmother Winkle; and such a time as they all had, opening the bundles and showing their presents!

Then Mother Vedder tried on Kit's suit and Kat's dress, to see if they were the right size. They were just right exactly.

"St. Nicholas even knows how big we are," said Kat.

"Oh, I wish St. Nicholas Day would last a week," said Kit.

"That reminds me," said Vrouw Vedder, and she looked at the clock. "Half-past ten, and these children still up! Bless my heart, this will never do! Come here, Kit and Kat, and let me undo your buttons!"

[189] "May we take our new clothes to bed with us?" Kat asked.

"Yes, just this once," said Mother Vedder, "because this is St. Nicholas night."

[190] They kissed their Grandfather and Grandmother good-night, and their Mother and Father, and said their prayers like good children; and then they climbed up into their little cupboard bed, and Vrouw Vedder drew the curtains, so they would go to sleep sooner.

"Good-night, dear little Twins," she said.

And so say we.

The Biggest Little Rabbit Learns to See

by Clara Dillingham Pierson

[113] SEVEN little Rabbits lay on their nest at the end of the burrow, and wriggled and squirmed and pushed their soft noses against each other all day long. Life was very easy for them, and they were contented. The first thing that they remembered was lying on their bed of fur, hay, and dried leaves, and feeling a great, [114] warm, soft Something close beside them. After a while they learned that this Something was their Mamma Rabbit. It was she who had gotten the nest ready for them and lined it with fur that she tore from her own breast. She didn't care so much about looking beautiful as she did about making her babies comfortable.

It was their Mamma Rabbit, too, who fed them with warm milk from her own body until they should be old enough to go out of the burrow. Then they would nibble bark and tender young shoots from the roots of the trees, and all the fresh, green, growing things that Rabbits like. She used to tell them about this food, and they wondered and wondered how it would taste. They began to feel very big and strong now. The soft fur was growing on their naked little bodies and covering even the soles of their feet. It was growing inside their cheeks, too, and that made them feel important, for [115] Papa Rabbit said that he did not know any other animals that had fur inside their cheeks. He said it was something to be very proud of, so they were very proud, although why one should want fur inside of one's cheeks it would be hard to say.

What tangles they did get into! Each little Rabbit had four legs, two short ones in front, and two long ones behind to help him take long jumps from one place to another. So, you see, there were twenty-eight legs there, pushing, catching in the hay, kicking, and sometimes just waving in the air when their tiny owners chanced to roll over on their backs and couldn't get right side up again. Then Mamma Rabbit would come and poke them this way and that, but getting the nest in order.

"It is a great deal of work to pick up after children," she would say with a tired [116] little sigh, "but it will not be long before they have homes of their own and are doing the same thing."

Mamma Rabbit was quite right when she said that, for all of their people set up housekeeping when very young, and then the cares of life begin.

One fine morning when the children were alone in their burrow, the biggest little Rabbit had a queer feeling in his face, below and in front of his long ears, and above his eager little nose. It almost scared him at first, for he had never before felt anything at all like it. Then he guessed what it meant. There were two bunchy places on his face, that Mamma Rabbit had told him were eyes. "When you are older," she had said to him, "these eyes will open, and then you will see." For the Rabbit children are always blind when they are babies.

When his mother told him that, the biggest little Rabbit had said, "What do [117] you mean when you say I shall 'see'? Is it anything like eating?"

And Mamma Rabbit said, "No, you cannot taste things until you touch them, but you can see them when they are far away."

"Then it is like smelling," said the biggest little Rabbit.

"No, it is not like smelling, either, for there are many things, like stones, which one cannot smell and yet can see."

"Then it surely is like hearing," said the biggest little Rabbit.

"Oh dear!" exclaimed his mother, who was tired of having questions asked which could not be answered. "It is not a bit like hearing. You could never hear a black cloud coming across the sky, but you could see it if you were outside your burrow. Nobody can make you understand what seeing is until your eyes are open, and then you will find out for yourself without asking."

[118] This made the biggest little Rabbit lie still for a while, and then he said: "What is a black cloud, and why does it come across the sky? And what is the sky, and why does it let the cloud come? And what is—" But he did not get any answer, for his mother ran out of the burrow and he followed part of the way.

And now his eyes were surely opening and he should see! His tiny heart thumped hard with excitement, and he rubbed his face with his forepaws to make his eyes open faster. Ah! There it was; something round and bright at the other end of the burrow, and some queer, slender things were waving across it. He wondered if it were good to eat, but he dared not crawl toward it to see. He did not know that the round, bright thing was just a bit of sky which he saw through the end of the burrow, and that the slender, waving ones were the branches of a dead tree tossing in the wind. Then he looked [119] at his brothers and sisters as they lay behind him. He would not have known what they were if he had not felt of them at the same time.

"I can see!" he cried. "I can see everything that there is to see! I'm ahead of you! Don't you wish that you could see, too?"

That was not a very kind thing to say, but in a minute more his brothers and sisters had reason to be glad that they couldn't see. Even while he was speaking and looking toward the light, he saw a brown head with two round eyes look in at him, and then a great creature that he thought must surely be a dog ran in toward him. How frightened he was then! He pushed his nose in among his blind brothers and sisters and tried to hide himself among them. He thought something dreadful was about to happen.

"I wish Mamma Rabbit would come," he squeaked, shutting his eyes as closely [120] as he could. "I wish Mamma Rabbit would come."

"Why, here I am," she answered. "What are you afraid of?"

The biggest little Rabbit opened his eyes, and there was the creature who had frightened him so, and it was his own mother! You can imagine how glad she was to see that one of her children had his eyes open.

"I will call in some of my Rabbit friends," she said, "and let you see them, if you will promise not to be afraid."

The next day four of the other little Rabbits had their eyes open, and the day after that they all could see each other and the shining piece of sky at the end of the burrow. It was not so very long afterward that the Rabbit family went out to dine in the forest, and this was the first time that the children had seen their father. Often when their mother left them alone in the burrow she had pulled [121] grass and leaves over the opening to hide it from him, for Rabbit fathers do not love their children until they are old enough to go out into the great world, and it would never do for them to know where their babies are kept. Then their father taught them how to gnaw tough bark to wear their teeth down, for Rabbits' teeth grow all the time, and if they were to eat only soft food, their teeth would get too long. He taught them, too, how to move their ears in the right way for keen hearing, and told them that when chased they must run for the burrow or the nearest thicket. "Then crouch down on some leaves that are the color of your fur," he said, "and you may not be seen at all."

"Why should we run?" said the biggest little Rabbit.

"Because you might be caught if you didn't."

"What might catch us?" asked the biggest little Rabbit.

[122] "Oh, a Hawk, perhaps, or a Weasel."

"What does a Hawk look like?"

"Like a great bird floating in the sky," said Papa Rabbit. "Now, don't ask me a single question more."

"Does a Hawk look like that bird above us?" asked the biggest little Rabbit.

His father gave one look upward. "Yes!" he said. "Run!"

And just as the Hawk swooped down toward the ground, he saw nine white-tipped tails disappear into a burrow near by.

Pattie's New Dress

by Maud Lindsay

[61] When Pattie was a little girl, long, long ago, many of the things that we. buy now from stores were made at home. There were home-made carpets, and home-made stockings, and home-made dollies, and when Pattie needed a warm new dress, her Grand- mother said:—

"I'll spin the wool for it."

"And I'll weave the cloth," said Rachel, who was the oldest girl in the family.

"And I'll make the dress," said the little girl's mother, "by the new pattern that Miss Evangelina Page has just brought home from her cousin's. She was telling me about it yesterday, and it will fit Pattie I know."

The sheep had given the wool from their backs for Pattie's new dress. It was as soft as down, and as white as milk, and as beautiful as snow, so Pattie thought. Grandmother carded it fine and smooth, fastened [62] it on her spindle and sent the spinning wheel whirling round.

"Zummmmmmmmm," sang the wheel as it turned, "Zummmmmmmmm." Pattie's Brother Joe said it sounded as if there were bees in the room. "Zummmmmmmmmmmmm."

"A hum and a whirl, a twist and a twirl, that is the way good yarn is spun," said Grandmother as she drew the thread out from the fleecy wool.

Pattie stood by to watch her spin, with a smile on her lips, and a laugh in her eyes, and more questions on the tip of her rosy tongue than Grandmother had time to answer.

"Will there be a pocket in my new dress?" she asked, "and buttons down the back? And oh, Grandmother, what color is it going to be?"

"I know," said Brother Joe who had just come in from the woods with a bundle of walnut bark, "the color of a—chestnut."

"Brown, brown, brown," cried Pattie; and sure enough, when her Mother dipped [63] the yarn into the dye which she made with the walnut bark, it came out a beautiful brown just as Pattie had guessed.

"BROWN, BROWN, BROWN," CRIED PATTIE, WHEN HER MOTHER DIPPED THE YARN INTO THE DYE.

Then Sister Rachel fastened the yarn into the loom and began to weave. The treadle went up and the treadle went down with a click and a clack, such a merry sound, and away sprang the shuttle to carry the thread under and over, and in and out. The cloth grew as if by magic in the loom, and when it was almost woven Pattie was sent to get the pattern.

She was delighted to go on such an errand and she told everybody she met about her new dress.

"Good morning," she said, "I am going to have a new brown dress. Mother is going to begin it this very day, just as soon as I get the pattern from Miss Evangelina Page."

Everybody was glad to hear about it too. Even the old pedler, who drove about from house to house selling pans and buckets, said he had not heard such good news since the day that Peggy Carter's speckled hen, [64] down at the Crossroads, came off her nest with fifteen chickens.

The pedler had known Pattie ever since she was a baby, and he let her ride in his wagon all the way from her Aunt Susan's house to Miss Evangelina's gate.

Miss Evangelina Page had more patterns than anybody in town and nothing pleased her more than to lend them. As soon as she heard what Pattie wanted she put on her spectacles and got the pattern out of her top bureau drawer.

"Cousin Mary Ann Carter's Peggy had a dress made by this very pattern," she said, as she rolled it up in a neat little bundle and tied a pink string around it.

"Did it have a pocket?" asked Pattie.

"Yes, indeed," said Miss Evangelina, "Two of them, bound with red braid, and—oh, yes, you tell your mother that I say she must be sure to cut the ruffles on the bias."

Pattie did not know what that meant, but she said the message over and over and when she got home she had not forgotten a [65] word of it. Rachel had taken the cloth out of the loom and Mother was all ready to begin the dress. Snip, snip, snip went her scissors sharp, and stitch, stitch, stitch flew her shining needle. Long after Pattie was in bed and fast asleep that night, she was busy sewing. Grandmother and Rachel helped too, and the dress was finished the very next day.

It had pockets, two of them, bound with red braid, and ruffles on the skirt, and buttons down the back like a row of red berries. Pattie wore it when she carried the pattern back to Miss Evangelina Page, and everybody she met had something to say about it. Jack Frost had come in the night and the wintry winds had begun to blow, but she did not care.

"I'm warm as toast in my new woolen dress," said little girl Pattie.

Gideon, the Soldier

by Amy Steedman

THE people of Israel were in sore distress. Their smiling land, that land "flowing with milk and honey," was laid waste, they were robbed of their harvests, and they went in terror of their lives. The fierce Midianite robbers had come swarming from the east like a cloud of locusts, and just as locusts devour the green, good land, so these Midianites had overrun the country and devoured everything which their greedy eyes desired and their powerful hands could grasp.

[43] The people who lived in the quiet valleys and plains had fled to the hills for safety, leaving their cornfields and vineyards, and seeking shelter in caves and rocky dens. They dared not try to fight the robbers, for the Midianites far outnumbered them. It was a reign of red terror, as if hungry wolves had come to menace the peaceful land.

There was one man, however, who had not fled before the enemy and who kept on steadily at his work, reaping his corn and gathering in his grapes. This was Gideon, a young landowner who looked after his father's land. He was the youngest of a family of brothers, all of them so tall and straight and strong and good to look at that they might have been the sons of a king.

But of all these brothers Gideon alone was now left. The others had all been killed by the fierce robbers who had invaded the land, and it was his part now to defend the home and carry on the work. He never dreamed of running away and leaving his fair cornfields and terraced vineyards to fall into the greedy, grasping hands of the wolfish enemy. The Midianite robbers would not find him an easy prey when they came. Still he worked cautiously, and when the harvest was gathered in he hid it in a secret cave which he had prepared.

It was a bitter thing to live always in fear of the enemy, and Gideon almost felt as if God had forsaken His people. He knew what wonderful things God had done in the past years, when the people of Israel had escaped from Egyptian slavery: how He had made a passage for them through the Red Sea, and broken down the walls of Jericho before them, and led them into the flowery land of peace and plenty. But why, then, did He work no wonders now, and free them from this dreadful tyranny?

He was thinking these thoughts one day as he toiled near the grove of trees which grew just above his vineyard, when he looked up and saw some one there, sitting under an oak tree. It was a friend and not a foe, for the greeting fell gently on his ear, "The Lord is with thee, thou mighty man of valour."

Was it a message from God? Perhaps this was an angel messenger, but Gideon answered bitterly, for he did not think that God was with him.

"If the Lord be with us, why then is all this befallen us?" he asked. "Where be all his miracles which our fathers told us of, saying, Did not the Lord bring us up from Egypt? But now the Lord hath forsaken us, and delivered us into the hands of the Midianites."

[44] Quickly then the angel's answer came. It was he, Gideon, who was to show the people that God could still work miracles and that He had not forsaken His people. It was he who should lead them to victory and drive forth the robbers out of the land.

It was a splendid call to arms, and Gideon answered it at once as a soldier obeys the call of his king.

THE CALL OF GIDEON

But before fighting the foe there was evil at home to be battled with. The people had been worshipping a false god, and Gideon's first act was to sweep away all that belonged to that false worship. The indignant people talked of punishment, but even while they spoke news came that more of the robber nations were on their way to harry the land, and this was Gideon's opportunity. Splendid in his youth and strength, king-like in his daring, he stood out before the people and blew a great blast upon his trumpet, calling upon the people to gather themselves together for the defence of their land and to follow him, their captain.

It was a bold thing to think of withstanding that great army which was coming thundering upon its relentless way. Gideon himself knew that it was a forlorn hope unless God was surely on their side. He must make quite certain of that before setting out, so he humbly prayed that God would give him a sign. He would put a fleece of wool out on the ground at night, and if in the morning the fleece was wet with dew while the ground around was dry, then he would know that God had indeed chosen him to lead His people to victory.

The fleece was laid out, and when Gideon came in the morning he found it all soaked with dew, while not a drop had fallen upon the dry hard ground around. Still he wanted to be even more sure, and so again he prayed to God, and asked that this time the fleece might be dry and the dew fall only upon the ground. If this happened he would ask for no other sign, but would believe with all his heart.

Again God listened patiently to His soldier servant, and again He granted his prayer. This time, when in the early morning Gideon went out to find his fleece, it was lying there quite dry, while everything around was heavy with dew.

So now with every doubt at rest Gideon set to work to prepare for battle. The people had answered his trumpet call and had gathered together in thousands; but many of them had come in fear and trembling, and Gideon wanted no cowards or half-hearted men in his army. God was able to save by many or by few, and He meant to show that it was by His arm that the victory would be won. So He bade Gideon tell all [46] the faint-hearted and frightened men to return to their hiding-places, and all the unfit ones to go home, and at last the army melted away until only three hundred picked men were left to fight the great armies of the Midianites and the Amalekites.

The little army took up its position secretly upon a hill which overlooked the plain where the enemy was encamped; and when night came down and wrapped hill and plain in darkness, God's message came to Gideon and bade him go down secretly, taking his servant with him, to find out what was happening in the camp below.

The vast plain was covered with tents; thousands and thousands of camels, on which the robbers had come riding so proudly, were resting there now like a great gray sea stretched out towards the horizon. It seemed as hopeless to think of turning back this great swarm of people as of stopping the incoming tide. But there was no doubt or fear in Gideon's heart.

Very silently in the darkness of the night he stole down the hill and crept closer and closer to the enemy camp. Like two gray shadows he and his faithful servant drew nearer and nearer, until at last they could hear the voices of two men who were talking in one of the dark tents set at the outer edge of the great camp.

The men had both been asleep, and one had been dreaming, but the dreamer had awakened his companion to listen to the frightening dream which had disturbed him. Gideon could distinctly hear his terror-stricken voice telling how he had seen a cake of barley bread come rolling down the hill into the camp, where nothing could stop it, until it even reached the royal tent and laid it flat. The man who listened to the dream was terrified too, and declared that it meant the overthrow of their people by the sword of Gideon, that man of Israel who dwelt on the hillside and had defied them.

Gideon had heard enough; and so, as silently as they had come, the two shadows flitted back and climbed up the hill to their camp. There was no time to be lost. Before the enemy could regain confidence the blow must be struck. Gideon had everything planned for the attack, and now he explained to his men exactly what they were to do.

Each man was to carry in one hand his trumpet, and in the other an empty earthen pitcher with a lighted torch inside. They were to carry these pitchers so that no gleam of light should show, and were to creep quietly down to the edge of the enemies' camp below. Then, when they were all come close to the camp Gideon would blow his trumpet, and at [47] that signal all those three hundred men were to blow their trumpets too and break the pitchers which they held in their hands, so that the light of the torches should suddenly blaze out. There was only one more order to give, and that was to tell them the battle cry which was to carry them on to victory—

"The sword of the Lord and of Gideon."

Swiftly, then, those three hundred picked men crept down the hill. No mountain mist rolling into the valley could have moved more silently, and not a gleam from the hidden torches lit up the darkness.

There was silence in the great camp below. Sentries had just been changed, and the rest of the army was peacefully sleeping—when suddenly one long clear trumpet call shattered the stillness like the thrust of a spear piercing a solid wall of blackness. Instantly a wild blare of answering trumpets broke in from every side, and the darkness was lit up by hundreds of flaring torches, while a mighty shout rose up to heaven: "The sword of the Lord and of Gideon."

"THEY BLEW THE TRUMPETS, AND BRAKE THE PITCHERS THAT WERE IN THEIR HANDS."

No wonder the enemy in their surprise and terror thought that a great army was upon them. It seemed as if the very night itself was full of fire and crashing sound. They rushed from their tents, they fled this way and that, not knowing friend from foe, but madly hacking their way with their swords in blind terror.

It was a great victory for the Israelites. Both the robber kings were taken and slain, and the people who survived that terrible stampede were driven back into their own land.

Who now in all the land was as great a hero as the brave young captain, the victorious Gideon? The people in their gratitude and devotion were ready to pay him any honour, even to making him their king.

"Rule thou over us," they shouted, "both thou, and thy son, and thy son's son also: for thou hast delivered us from the hand of Midian."

But Gideon would have none of this. It was to God that the glory was due, and God was their King.

"I will not rule over you," he declared, "neither shall my son rule over you."

And then, like the trumpet call in the great battle, his voice rang out: "The Lord, He shall rule over you."

WEEK 11

Three Billy Goats Gruff

by Penrhyn W. Coussens