Citation
Little Lily's travels

Material Information

Title:
Little Lily's travels : a book for the young
Creator:
Paterson, Robert, fl. 1860-1899 ( Engraver )
Small, William, 1843-1929 ( Illustrator )
Thomas Nelson & Sons ( Publisher )
Place of Publication:
London
Publisher:
T. Nelson and Sons
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
163, [4] p., [1] leaf of plates : ill. (some col.) ; 16 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Shipwrecks -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Steamboats -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Brothers and sisters -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Christian life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Description and travel -- Juvenile fiction -- France ( lcsh )
Publishers' advertisements -- 1873 ( rbgenr )
Baldwin -- 1873 ( local )
Genre:
Publishers' advertisements ( rbgenr )
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
England -- London
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

General Note:
Some illustrations engraved by Paterson after Small.
General Note:
Added t.p. and frontispiece printed in colors.
General Note:
Publisher's advertisements follow text.
Funding:
Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
Statement of Responsibility:
by the author of "Little Lily's picture lessons."

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026850283 ( ALEPH )
ALH3579 ( NOTIS )
59821338 ( OCLC )

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Full Text




The Baldwin Library

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MitTbR. Lily Ss TRAVAGS.

st onhbetes





LITTLE JOSEPH



Liar: bis |













LITTLE LILY'S TRAVELS.

A Book for the Poung

BY THE ALTHO OF

“LITTGE LILY'S PICTURE LESSONS.”

LONDON:
T NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW;
EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK.

1873.







u.

Iv.

y.

vi.

vil.

vu.

1X,

xi

XI,

XL

xiv.

Xv.

XV.

@ontents,





‘THE DEPARTURE—THE ILLUMINATION—THE DILIGENCE, 7
ORGON—A SISTER OF CHARITY—LITILE JOSEPH, 12
THE DURANCE—THE CLOUD—AVIGNON, 18
A LITTLE BOY BETTER THAN MOST BOYS, : es
THE SIROCCO—THE SIMOOM—THE ARABS, ame 2)
A DANGEROUS LANDING AT AVIGNON, ee 40





THE STEAMER, ... es eo , ei

THE SAND-BANK, . i Pe . ee 50)





THE LETTER —THE PASSAGE OF THE BRIDGH OF ST.









ESPRIT—THE PILOT, 5 a7
THE INUNDATION, ... es ‘ 2 mm 6
THE SPEAKING-TRUMPET—RECOLLECTIONS—THE FAIR, 2
A FISHER OF TO-DAY AND A FISHER LONG AGO, eo) a9)
THE BARGES—THE MEETING OF THE RHONE AND THE ISERE, $7
‘THE RAFTS, 8
THE BRIDGE AND THE FERRY-BOAT, ... s 9
THE MOUNTAINS, af , - eeeeelCy





—

vi CONTENTS.

XVI THE



-ARM-HOUSE, se ena a : ae

XVII A LEITER TOA FRIEND, 5









THE SHIPWRECK—-LYONS, «.. : 3
XNI. THE JOURNEY FROM LYONS —THE LAKE OF NANTUA—THE
FIR BRANCHES, - - a ee

[HE PINE-TREE—THE TRAVELLERS,



XXII, THE FIR-TREE'S STORY:

OF VECLUSE—



XXIM, THE LITTLE BEGGAR-GIRL—THE FORTRES

SWITZERLAND, «+ tes : Fes e



140

wT

256





CHAPTER I.

THE DEPARTURE—THE ILLUMINATION—THE DILIGENCE.



E must make haste. Nine o'clock is
just going to strike. The coach will
K- be off. Put on Lily’s and Francis’
travelling-hats, and take this basket
of provisions. Francis would not like
it left behind. Harry, my boy, you are setting
out on your first journey, but you do not look as
if you cared much. May God watch over us all
this night.

Come, we must be off. Here we are in the
street; the door of the house is shut. Adieu,
dear house, where we have received such a kind
welcome. Adieu, kind friends; we are going



8 THE ILLUMINATION,

away far from you, but we shall never forget you.
And Carlo, our travelling companion, what has
become of him? He has been left in the house ;
listen to his barking. I shall go and unchain
him, Oh, how he leaps for joy and runs to the
children !—he is looking for all his old friends.—
Yes, Carlo, we are all here.

O papa, what beautiful lights !

Yes, my darling ; there is an illumination this
evening.

I see trees burning !

The lamps are hung on the trees. There is a
xow of them on both sides of the street. We
shall pass down between them.

What crowds of people! How bright the
lights are !

There are lights all round us; but as you are
too little to see over the heads of all these people,
I shall take you up in my arms, There is a long
row of lights, you see.

Yes ; and there are lights in the sky too.

But the lights in the sky are not at all like
the lights on the earth. The ones near us burn
only for a short time. You see a great many
have gone out already, and there is a man com-
ing with a long reed in his hand to light them



THE DILIGENCE. 9

again. Yesterday there were no lights to be seen
here, and to-morrow there will be none; but the
stars, the lights in the sky, will shine as they are
doing now. It is God who has placed them high
up there, and he will also make a glorious sun to
rise to-morrow morning to light us on our journey.

Ah! here we have at last arrived at the coach-
office. Take care!

Where are all these people running to? There
are some soldiers.

Ah! it is the prince; the town has been lighted
up for him.

That he may see well ?

No, my dear; the people wish to show him
that they are happy to see him again. He has
just come back from a country far away over
the sea.

He must be very tired.

I daresay he is tired, but he will soon forget
it when he sees the people so happy to see him.
But now the crowd have all run after him, and
we must get into the coach. Now, children,
give a last kiss to the friends who have been so
kind to you.

Adieu, dear friends; remember the travellers
in your prayers.



10 THE DILIGENCE.

Coachman, put Carlo on the top; don’t be
afraid; he is as gentle as a lamb. Wait one -
moment; here’s my cloak to cover him.

We are off at last !

But is that not Carlo’s bark? The poor dog
has not seen us, and perhaps thinks we are left
behind. He wants to get back to us. What
makes him howl in that pitiful way? Now he
has jumped from the top of the coach to the road }
Oh, I am afraid the wheels will hurt him! Stop,
driver! Carlo, Carlo! wearehere. There he is,
standing up at the coach door wagging his tail.
He knows us. Coachman, you may drive on;
he will be quiet now, because he knows we are
here.

See what crowds of people! The coachman is
always calling out, “Take care!—take care!”
Many of them, I daresay, in passing will be pity-
ing us travellers going away from all that amuses
them so much. What do you think of it, chil-
dren? Would you rather be walking in the
streets than driving away ?

No; because we wish to go to Geneva.

You like to go, and they like to stay ; that is
just as it should be.

We have left behind us the lights and the



ae THE DILIGENCE. 11

crowd, and we shall hear nothing now but the
rumbling of the wheels and the sound of the
horses’ feet upon the road.

Are we at Geneva yet?

Oh! not yet, dear; but don’t be afraid, we shall
be there in good time.

How cold the air feels!

Put on your cloak, and lay your head on my
knee and go to sleep.







CHAPTER I.

ORGON—A SISTER OF CHARITY—LITTLE JOSEPH.




Y dear children, it is daylight and you
% ave still asleep. They do not hear me.
.<, They are tired, and we must not awake

a them. You are sleeping peacefully,
ie because you are with your parents ;

and they have no fear, because they
know that God takes care of them.

While we are going on our journey the sun is
rising. There he is appearing above that hill.
He will soon awake the children; one of his bright
rays shines into the diligence, and plays upon Lily’s
face. Little Lily rubs her eyes, opens them and
shuts them again, because the light is too strong.

Where are we, papa?

A long way from Marseilles. We have been
driving on and on all night.






A SISTER OF CHARITY. 13

Then the poor horses must be very tired.

The horses we have now are not the ones with
which we set off. We have changed horses three
times while you have been sleeping, and now we
are going to change again, for we have arrived at
Orgon, another stage on our journey. See! they
ave taking out the horses, to let them get a rest
as soon as possible. There are our fresh ones ;
they are not tired, they have been all night in a
comfortable stable.

What lady is that coming to us?

It is a sister of charity.

Why is she called a sister?

She calls herself a sister of charity, because
she goes about visiting and attending to sick
people as if they were her brothers and sisters—
just as Lily would nurse Francis if he were sick,
or Francis Lily.

Her dress is all black.

Yes; all the women who call themselves sisters
of charity wear these strange dresses; but we
may love and be kind to the sick without having
an odd, ugly dress. The dress is nothing; it is
the kind heart that is wanted. Neither Francis
nor Lily have a black dress, or a white hood ; but
if they are loving children, and wish to be kind,



4 LITTLE JOSEPH.

they may do something to help their poor brothers
and sisters, even though they are little children.
How many brothers have you?

Two.

And you?

A brother and a sister.

Ab! God has given you a great many more.

And where are they ?

They are all the little children in the world:

Do you see that little boy on the road ?

Is that a brother ?

I do not know him.

He has got no shoes on.

His hands are dirty.

Ah! that is because he is poor.

He gathers manure on the road, and sells it to
buy bread.

Do you know who has created him ?

The good God.

And you?

The good God.

And where has God placed him ¢

On the earth.

And you?

On the earth too.

And who does the earth belong to?



LITTLE JOSEPH. 15

To God.

So, then, this little boy and you live together
in God’s house; and the same sun which shines
into our diligence warms his bare feet; the same
rain falls upon him and upon you; the same
stars which shine at night over our head shine
over his; and one day both you and he, if you
love God, will meet in heaven.

Papa, may I speak to him?

Perhaps he would not answer you. I had
better speak to him first.

Little boy, will you go to the other side of the
ditch for a blue flower which I see there, and get
it for my little girl? There is a yellow one, too,
a little further off, which I would like you to
bring for my little boy.

He sees what I want, and is off at once. See
how he runs! There he is coming back already
with the flowers. Come upon the step, my little
fellow ; the diligence * is not yet ready to start.
What pretty flowers! Lily, here is yours.

And mine, papa?

There it is; they are still wet with the morn-
ing dew.

What is your name ?

* A diligence is the name of a French stage-coach,



16 LITTLE JOSEPH.

Joseph,

Don’t go down yet. I am sure these children
would like to give you something for the beauti-
ful flowers you have brought them. Would you
not, dears ?

Yes—yes !

Let us see. What will you give him?

Some of our toys.

Then, come here to the door that you may give
them yourselves.

Put your hand into this basket, Joseph, and
choose what you like; don’t be afraid.

He has taken my beautiful horse! I don’t
wish him to take it away! I don’t wish
it!

Joseph, will you give him back his horse? I
am very sorry that my little boy should be so
unkind to you, after you have been so kind to
him.

Papa, I will let him have it.

Very well. Joseph, since he gives it to you
willingly now, take it again, and lend it to your
brothers and sisters at home. Good-bye, my
little friend.

Good-bye—good-bye.

The horses are put in now. Do you see how

(381)



LITTLE JOSEPH. ids

impatient that one is to get away? See how he
tosses his head and prances! He is off; there is
no need for the whip. The two others are as
ready to set off as he is.



(381) 2







CHAPTER IL.

THE DURANCE—THE CLOUD—AVIGNON.

RANCIS, what do you see beyond these
tall poplars ?





The sea.
< No, my boy, it is only a river—the
up Durance—which in a short time we

shall cross on a wooden bridge.

How pretty the flowers are in the hedge-rows !
Let down the windows, that we may breathe the
fresh morning air.

How quickly we are going. The trees seem
to fly away behind us. Oh, what pretty sheep
in that meadow !

Francis, my boy, come here and look out at
this side. Ah, you are too late!

I wish to see them.

The diligence cannot stop; but we shall pro-



THE DURANCE. 19

bably see more of them. See, there is another
little flock! There will be plenty of time to
see it, for we have come to a hill. There is
a ewe looking at us; her lamb is lying near
her.

See! it has risen, and is leaping for joy. Now
it is eating the fresh grass; and now it is run-
ning races. Ah! in one of its gambols it has
fallen into a ditch.

T see one all black come to look for it.

Now they are playing, knocking their heads
against each other.

Will they hurt one another ?

No, my dears; lambs are gentle creatures, and
little children should try to be gentle like them.

They have gone away.

No; we have gone away from them.

We are not walking.

No, but the horses are walking, and they drag
the diligence. Just notice if we have not changed
our place, A few minutes ago we passed some
men and women reaping, and now we have come
down to the river, which is flowing peacefully
through the corn-fields. We shall cross the bridge
immediately ; it is over the Durance. Our coach
goes between these red painted railings. The water





20 THE DURAN

runs far below us, but it cannot come up to us.
Here we ave across.



Are we at Geneva yet?

Not yet at Geneva; but in a short time we
shall be at Avignon. Are you wearied with the
journey? Shall I tell you something ?

Yes! yes!

Well, in a little while you will see water which
comes from Geneva.

Where does this water run to?

It runs down to the sea.

Does it not go back to Geneva with us?

No, dear, a river always runs on; it can never



THE CLOUD. 21

go back again. But I am mistaken; a part of
the beautiful Rhone, which you will see imme-
diately, goes back to Geneva. Can yon guess
how it gets back ?

_In a coach ?

No.

In a steamer ?

No.

We do not know.

It goes back in a cloud.

Oh!

I shall tell you how. Lily, do you remember
that one day after the eggs had been boiled for
breakfast, you took the pan and put it on the
fire, and left it there, and what happened ?

Oh, I was so sorry ; the pan was burned.

There was water in the pan when you put it
on, was there not?

Yes; but the water all went away.

Where did it go?

I do not know.

It went up into the air—the heat of the fire
made it go up into the air.

I did not see it.

You did not see it go up as water, but you
saw white smoke going up out of the pan, did



22 THE AVIGNON.

you not? That white smoke was the water,
which the heat of the fire had turned into steam.
And it is also heat—the heat of the sun—which
makes the water rise into the air.

But we have never seen it.

It is not easily seen, because the tiny drops
which the sun draws up are so fine and small ;
but when a great many are gathered together,
they make what is called a cloud.

Where does it go?

Wherever the wind drives it, over mountains
and valleys. It may stop, for instance, over
Geneva; and the rain which falls from that cloud
may be the same water which had risen into the
air from the river.

I wonder which of us will be the first to see
the beautiful river Rhone. We are very near
it now.

What do you see, Francis ?

High towers.

These are the towers of the palace of Avignon.
From them can be seen the ribbon of the Rhone
winding through the fields.

Is the Rhone then a ribbon?

No, but it is like one. I saw it one day from
the top of a high mountain, and its windings



THE AVIGNON. 23

across the flat country below were like a silvery
blue ribbon carelessly thrown on a green carpet.

And you, Lily, do you see anything pretty ?

I see beautiful trees on this side.

Look down. What do you see there?

Water.

That is the Rhone, children; and as we go on
we shall see it better. It is not so blue here’ as
when it leaves the lake.

Why?

Because as it runs on to the sea a great many
rivers and streams pour their muddy waters
into it.

But how is this? You know we were to have
gone up the river in a steamer. I see no boat,
and it is very late. The horses stop; we have
arrived. Let us ask this gentleman who is coming
up to the coach about the boat.

Will you be kind enough to tell us, sir, if there
will be a boat going up the river to-day ?

The last for to-day left three hours ago. There
will be one to-morrow; but surely you don’t
think of going by a steamer ?

Why ?

Because it is very uncomfortable, and so slow.
I would advise you to go by coach, and you will



24 THE AVIGNON.

be in Lyons to-morrow evening. For the rest of
the journey you may do as you like; but I assure
you that you had better take my advice and take
the coach as far as Lyons.

Where does the coach start from ?

From this office.

And who gives out the tickets for the coach ?

I do.

Thank you, sir; I shall just go to the steam-
boat office before deciding.—Children, you had
better stay with mamma till I come back.







CHAPTER IV.

A LITTLE BOY BETTER THAN MOST BOYS.






a

F. BRING good news, children. We can
still go to-day, and as the boat will sail
2 very soon, we must make haste. My
boy, you will carry this parcel ; and
you, Lily, take this basket, All travel-
lers must try to be useful. How very sorry I
am to leave this town so soon.

Why ?

Because I have a very dear friend here. How
pleasant it would have been to have surprised
him by a visit! I should have liked to see his
children, and to show you to him.

Does he not know us?

No; but he loves you.

And do you love him?

Listen for a moment. One day, a long time



26 A LITTLE, BOY BETTER THAN MOST BOYS.

ago, he paid a visit to my mother, and said to
her, putting his hand on my head, and looking
kindly at me, “Send this little boy to me, and I
shall teach him what he ought to know to make
him a wise man.” I was sent, and from that
time he taught me all that boys learn at school
and college. I lived with him, and he was as kind
to me as if I had been his own son. Don’t you
think I must love this friend who was so kind
to me?

Oh yes, you must love him very much. But
why was he so good and kind ?

Because he had suffered very much. He has
often told me his own story.

Oh, do tell it to us!

I am not sure that it would be right for me
to tell you unless he allowed me. Suppose he
were to hear about the stories I have told you,
do you not think he might be displeased with me
for telling you all about him? But, to be sure,
I might tell him that it is good for my children
to know what such a useful man as he is did
when he was a child.

The story! the story!

Well, when he was your age, he was poor, and
often very ill. He had no amusement of any



A LITTLE BOY BETTER THAN MOST BOYS. 27

kind. He came home immediately after school
was over ; and while his companions were playing,
what do you think he did? His work was to
shell almonds; and often the hammer, instead of
striking the shell, came down upon his little
fingers, which would have made many other chil-
dren cry, but this little boy suffered and went on
with his work without complaining. He would
have liked sometimes to have eaten some of the
delicious almonds, but was not allowed to taste a
single one.

Why ?

Because they were not his own.

Did they belong to his mother?

Tf they had been hers he would not have been
forbidden to eat them. They belonged to a con-
fectioner, who gave her a few pence for taking
them out of the shell. But that is not all. When
his little fingers became tired, he got cotton to
pick, which he worked at as diligently.

Why ?

Because he felt happy in being able to do some-
thing for his parents in return for their sending
him to school. One day, while busily cracking
his almonds, the thought struck him that he
would like to study. “I will become a teacher,”



28 A LITTLE BOY BETTER THAN MOST BOYS.

be said to himself, and make money, so that my
father and mother may not be obliged to work
when they are old.” He did not tell any one
what he was going to do; but God, who knew
it, blessed him, and helped to do far more than
he expected; and I am certain that now, when
he is better off, he remembers with pleasure the
time when he broke almonds at his father’s fire-
side, and often speaks of it to his children.

Has he children ?

Yes; a little Charles and a little Helen.

I wish they could go with us to Geneva.

Oh, they could not leave their papa and mamma.

But when shall we see them ?

I don’t know, but I hope some time soon; for
I wish the children to love each other as their
fathers do.







CHAPTER V.

THE SIROCCO—THE SIMOOM—THE ARABS.




PARLO !—why is Carlo staying behind ?

The poor dog is very tired. When
we left Orgon he barked with all his
might to get down from the top of the
coach ; and once down, he played about
on the road, leaping over ditches, and trying to
keep up with the horses. You remember how
one moment he would run before them, then come
back and spring up to their heads. I told you he
could not go on long running so much. The groom
has washed his mouth, but he will neither eat nor
drink, He will soon have a rest now. The
steamer we are going by is one of the best on the
Rhone, and if it deserves its name it ought to go
as fast as the wind.

What is it called ?



30 THE SIMOOM.

The Sirocco; but you do not know what that
means.

No.

It is a sea wind; and one day when it was
blowing, we took you to the shore at Montredon.
The waves did not break at our feet as they
usually do, but, blown by the sirocco back into
the sea, they rushed like a great flock of sheep
over a green plain. We saw them dashing against
the rocks of the castle of If, and covering them
with a sheet of foam. The ships on the sea then
dance upon the waves like nut-shells. There is
another wind still more terrible than the sirocco,
called the simoom, which raises the sands of the
desert into waves as the other does the waters of
the sea.

What is a desert?

It is a great barren plain, where nothing but .
sand and sky are to be seen; no mountains, no
towns, no trees. However, there are men who
live in the desert, called Arabs.

What do they do?

They guide the people who are obliged to cross
the desert on their way to other countries. They
take them to shady spots, where they may rest
and have a little water to drink.



THE ARABS. 31

Are they good men ?

Not all of them. Sometimes they rob the poor
travellers of everything they have, leaving them
without a morsel to eat or anything to cover
them.



Some are shepherds. They stop wherever
there is a little grass to be found for their flocks ;
and when they have eaten it all up, they move
their tents and seek pasture for them elsewhere.

But you told us there was nothing but sand.



32 THE ARABS.

Here and there, there are a few trees, with a
little grass growing round a well; but there are
not many of these spots, and people who are
wandering in the desert often look for them for
days before they find one. I have read some-
where of a traveller meeting with some poor
Arabs, who had taken off their clothes and fas-
tened them to a stick, so as to make a little
shade for themselves from the burning heat of the
sun.

And how do you think they manage to cross
the desert? They cannot walk as we do in the
streets of Avignon.

On horses.

No; on camels.

You are both right, children. You have seen
Arabian horses in Marseilles, but you have never
seen a camel but in a picture.

They are not pretty creatures, but they are
very useful. They walk a long distance without
feeling tired ; can do without drinking for a long
time; eat less than a horse, and have more than
double the strength of one. When the Arabs are
in a hurry, they can travel night and day on their
camels,

But why do they not sleep in an inn?



THE ARABS. 33

Oh! they could not find an inn in the sandy
desert.

If they should be fortunate enough to find a
spring under the shade of a few palm-trees, that
is their inn. They unload their camels. The







THE CAMEL.

women busy themselves in unfolding and putting
up the tents, in feeding the camels, and prepar-
ing supper.

And what do the little children do ?

Pleased to find themselves on their feet again,
(381) 3



34 THE ARABS.

they run about, screaming with delight, and play
with the colts and the young camels ; and when
they have had their supper, they all go to sleep.

But if they cannot find either a spring or palm-
trees, they continue their journey till night comes
on, not stopping even to make ready anything to
eat. The women cook on the back of the camels
while they are walking, so that no time is lost.

But does the dinner not tumble down ?

Perhaps you think their dinners are like ours,
and they use turnspits and saucepans for cooking
it. But the food of the Arabs is very simple ;
and when travelling, they are satisfied with a
few cakes.

I am very fond of cakes.

You like them for dessert, or while you are
waiting for dinner; but the Arabs’ cakes are not
sweet, and, except a few dry figs and a little
water, they have nothing else for dinner.

But how can their caraffes of water stand up-
right ?

They have no crystal caraffes like ours; theirs
are leathern bottles, which are fastened on the
back of the camels.

Mamma says the Arabs have neither spoons
nor forks. -



THE ARABS. 35

Mamma is right. Francis, can you tell me how
they manage without them ?

They eat with their fingers.

Yes. And do you know any one who eats
sometimes with his fingers?

Papa, how delightful to be an Arab !

Why, my Lily ?

Because you told us they were so happy.

And are you not delighted, dear children, to
get out of the coach and run along in the sun-
shine ?

Yes, we are!

You see people can be happy without being
Bedouins. I assure you, you are much happier
than they are. Their journeys are not always so
pleasant as ours, for they are often overtaken by
that terrible wind which I have just been telling
you of.

Here, when the cold east wind blows, every
one escapes from it by shutting himself up in his
house. But the poor Arabs have no wooden or
stone houses like ours; their houses, or tents, as
they are called, are only of canvas, And yet they
are very glad to have even these; for, if they
should happen to be overtaken by the wind while
travelling, they have not time to get under cover,



36 THE ARABS.

because the putting up of a tent requires more
time than the building a castle of cards.

Does the wind wait till they get into their
houses ?

Oh! it is not so kind. But there is one of the
Bedouin party who knows when the simoom is
approaching. You cannot guess who that is?

No.

It is that useful animal the camel, of which I
have been telling you.

But how does he know before the wind comes ?

He knows it just as the swallows know when
the cold is coming, and escape from it by flying
to warmer countries; and as the squirrels know
that in a short time there will be no fruit on the
trees, and they must make provision for the
winter.

But who has taught them all that?

The good God.

Oh, how very good he is!

While the party is going merrily on their
journey, suddenly the camels stop. The drivers
may threaten or beat them, but they obstinately
refuse to move a step. They put down their
heads, and, turning their backs to the side from
which the wind is coming, there they stand quite



THE ARABS. 37

still. The Arabs understand then that the simoom
iscoming. They dismount immediately, and each
family hastens to put up their tent, looking out
all the time to see if there are any clouds of sand
in the distance. In the midst of this scene of
confusion the dogs howl pitifully, and the little
children cry with terror.

I do not wish to be a little Arab.

The eyes and ears of the horses are covered
with a hood. Every one gets under the shelter
of his tent, and covers his head with a large shawl,
and lies with his face on the ground.

Woe be to those who are not sheltered now,
for the wind of the desert is passing over the
tents !

And the poor little Arabs ?

They lie without moving, with their faces on
the ground, like their fathers and mothers; but
the air gets so hot that they need to cool their
faces now and then with a little water which
they have put near them; and sometimes even
this water gets as hot as if it had been taken from
a fire.

But if the Arabs were to get on their horses
and gallop off with their children ?

The simoom would make up to them. The



38 THE ARABS.





‘THE STMOOM.

Arab horses go very fast, but the wind of the
desert goes still faster, and very soon both horses
and riders would be overtaken, and die in the
clouds of burning sand.



HE ARABS. 39

Does that wind come here?

Oh no; don’t be afraid.

And the sirocco ?

You need not be afraid of it either. I have
only told you about it, because the steamer which
is to take us up the river is called after it.







CHAPTER VI.

A DANGEROUS LANDING AT AVIGNON.



APA, there is a steamboat now !
: That is not ours yet; we wish to
go up the river, and that one is going
down. See how fast it goes !—it is
out of sight already! Do you know
this place ?

No.

You have been here before. We came here in
a steamboat about a year and a half ago. There
had been a great deal of rain, and the river was
so very large that we were afraid we would not
be able to land. Come here and look over this
wall. You see the water is far below us, but
that day you could have touched it with your
hand.

The steamboat came to this place where we



A DANGEROUS LANDING AT AVIGNON. 41

are standing, to land the passengers; and as the
Rhone was growing larger and larger every mo-
ment, the captain wished to get off again as soon
as possible, because he was afraid he would not
be able to pass under the bridge. The passengers
tried who would be out first ; we kept quiet in a
corner out of the rain. The porters looked like
a band of thieves, seizing hold of the luggage and
running away with it. I kept my eye on our
boxes, in case any of them should be carried off.
Ob, what a shouting and screaming there was!
And in the midst of all this confusion, instead of
troubling your mamma and papa, you sat quiet,
looking about you, and wondering what it all
meant. At last, after the crowd was away, I got
our luggage carried on shore, and we prepared to
land; but this was no easy matter. I told you
a minute ago that the water was nearly as high
as this wall, and the steamer was raised high
above the landing-place. A plank had been laid
with one end on the quay and the other on the
boat ; and it was over this narrow, slippery, dan-
gerous bridge that we had to pass. For the first
half of the way there was a danger of falling into
the river, and for the other half into the mud.
While wondering how we were to get safely



42 A DANGEROUS LANDING AT AVIGNON.

down, we saw a terrible accident happen to an
old man. He was just before us, and had got
nearly to the end of the plank, when his foot
slipped, and he fell back, hurting himself very
much. However, as we were obliged to get
down somehow, I took you, little Lily, in my
arms; and, as I put my foot on the plank, I
asked God to take care of us. Your mamma,
who was behind, watched us as we went along,
and was very frightened till she saw us safely
down. ‘Then I left Lily with her nurse, and
came back for you, my big boy, for you were
still in the steamer; and, after leaving you with
Lily on the quay, I helped your mamma down
too; and when we had all met again, we thanked
God for having watched over us, as we had asked
him to do.

And then?

Then we went into the town, but found so
much water in the streets that we could not go
further.

Where did all the water come from ?

From the Rhone. For some days Avignon
was just like a lake; and when people wished to
go out, they had to take a boat!

Was there water there, where my foot is?



A DANGEROUS LANDING AT AVIGNON. 43

Look up at this large gate. Do you see a
black line ?

Yes.

Well, if you could read, you would see figures
marked there which tell the year that the water
rose as high as that mark. It would have
covered not only your foot, Francis, but your
head, and even that coach; and if you had been
in that house over there, you might have taken
some water out of the window in your little
hand.

How nice that would have been !

The people did not think it very pleasant to
see the water rushing into their houses, or to
have their trees rooted up, and their harvests de-
stroyed.

The Rhone is very naughty.

My dear, the Rhone does not think ; it does
not know what it does. It is God that permits
the waters to carry away houses and fields.

Then God is not good.

Am I not good to you?

Yes, you are our good papa.

And do you know why I sometimes punish
you? why I take away your toys? Because I
wish to make you good. But I Jove you quite



44 A DANGEROUS LANDING AT AVIGNON.

as much when I take them away as when I give
you them. And God, too, take- away his bless-
ings from men, and punishes them, because he
wishes them to be good; he is as kind to them
when he allows the water to carry away their
trees and fruits as he is to-day when he makes
the sun to shine on them, and the soft breath of
spring to blow.







CHAPTER VII.

THE STEAMER.

S#ASING, dong! ding, dong! Do you hear
the steamboat bell? Make haste, it
will be off! The porters have taken
our luggage on board; we have no-
thing to look after but ourselves. Take

care in crossing the narrow plank! Ah, here



we are at last

Puff, puff, puff, puff! What a dreadful noise !
Is there anything the matter?

Don’t be afraid, my dears ; it is only the steam.
Don’t you see it rushing out of that long tube by
the side of the funnel?

What a high chimney, and what black smoke !
The sky will be all black.

Oh no, my little man; the sky is so large, so
very large, that all the smoke in the world would



46 THE STEAMER.

not take away its beautiful blue colour. It is
just as if you were to pour my ink-bottle into
the sea, Francis ; the beautiful water would be as
green and clear as ever.

Ah, the paddles are beginning to move, and
make the water boil. How the houses are run-
ning away! All the people who were looking at
us are far away down there already. Can houses
run? Have they legs?

No, dear, no more than the towers of Avignon
palace. They are fixed in the ground, and keep
in one place.

But we do not see them any more.

That is because the steamer has carried us a
long way on while we have been talking.

Has it legs ?

No, but it has wheels, which turn round in the
water, and make it go.

What makes the wheels turn in the water ?

Steam; the same steam which made so much
noise when we were setting off. Do you not
remember that last winter I often put a small
kettle on my fire, and when the water in it
began to boil, the lid began to dance, to your
great amusement? Well, it was the steam from
the water which raised the lid. The wheels of



THE STEAMER. a

the boat are a great deal heavier than the lid of
my kettle, and they need a great deal more steam
to make them move.

And where is the water boiled? I don’t see
any kettle.

It is not boiled in a kettle, dear—there is not
one large enough; but in the middle of the boat
there is something which does as well as a kettle.
It is a large boiler. The water is boiled in it,
and it sends out plenty of steam to make the
steamer go.

But then there must be a fire.

Come to the funnel, and you will feel how
hot it is. But you must give me your hand;
it is not safe for little children to walk here
alone.

Why ?

Because you might fall into the water. Do
you not see these large openings at the side of
the deck, where you might fall out? Or you
might burn yourselves on the funnel; or you
might be—but, oh, may God mercifully preserve
you from that!—you might be caught by these
great machines which move their iron arms with
such a dreadful noise.

And then could papa not take us out?



48 THE STEAMER.

Ah no, my darlings; but I cannot think of
such a thing. Come away to the other side.

What is the use of these machines ?

They make the wheels turn round.

But there are none of them in the diligence.

No, but there are horses; and in a steamboat
these machines are instead of horses. Come
away to the other end of the deck; we shall
have a beautiful view, and shall see all the places
we are to stop at before we come to them, and
the large bell which rings to let passengers know
when the steamer is going away. Sit down
here

I am very sleepy.

You must be tired after travelling all night in
a diligence. We shall go down to the saloon to
rest, but we must go to the other end of the
deck to get to it. Take care not to fall going
down this steep stair.

This saloon is like our drawing-room at home,
only the ceiling is lower, and there are little iron
pillars to hold it up. Then, instead of two large
windows hung with curtains, we have here three
small ones on each side with blinds. There are
several tables, too, for the use of the passengers.
But you are very sleepy.



THE STEAMER. 49

Where are our beds ¢

There they are—these stuffed seats all round
the saloon. It is not a very soft bed; but after
Thave made it all ready for you, you will sleep
very well on it. See, I have covered the
cushions with clean sheets; and here are shawls
and cloaks to cover you, and I will put one of
these tables in front to keep you from rolling
over.

Now, are you not as comfortable as if you
were in your own little bed at home?

Yes, yes; and little Harry ?

Oh, no fear of him; I have laid him between
two cushions, and Iam sure he thinks he is in
his own little crib. But Iam afraid the noise
of the machinery may disturb him, dear little
fellow !



(381) 4





CHAPTER VIII.

THE SAND-BANK.




o#°T is morning! Lily is awake, and Francis
too.

Tam very glad, for it is such a beauti-
ful day, it is a pity not to be on deck
enjoying it. Come, and we shall have
a walk up-stairs ; it is too warm here.

What are these men doing putting long poles
into the river ?

They are measuring how deep it is, and each
time they take the poles out of the water they
tell the captain how many feet deep the water is.
Do you not see there is a boat yonder, with a
large cask on board, that seems to have run
aground ?

But why do they wish to know how deep the
water is?



THE SAND-BANK. 51

Because the captain is afraid there will not be
enough water for the steamer to sail in, and he
wishes to choose the deepest place.



And if there is not enough, what will happen ?
The steamer will run aground, and we shall be
stopped in the middle of the Rhone, not able
either to go up or down, which will not be very
pleasant. I was once stopped in this way before.

And you too, mamma?

Yes, I too, several years ago; but instead of
travelling with papa and you, my dears, I was
with your grandmamma and your aunt.

And why were you not with us?

Tt was before you were born, my little darlings.
I shall tell you what happened. We were on
board one of the ‘ Eagle” Company's steamers,



52 THE SAND-BANK.

like that which has just passed us. I suppose it
is because that Company’s steamers sail so fast
that they have been called after the king of birds.
At anyrate, we were very comfortable on board.
The first night it was beautiful moonlight, and we
walked on deck till it was very late. The second
night the sailors put down poles like these into
the water every little while, just as they are
doing now. They did everything they could to
keep the steamer from touching the bottom, but
about ten o’clock it struck, and suddenly stopped.
The sailors on deck shouted to each other at the
top of their voices, and now and then’ we heard
the captain’s voice above them all; Ob, what a
noise there was! It sounded to us down below
as if the sailors were playing themselves, rolling
all the casks and boxes backwards and forwards.
We were going to ask what it was, when the
stewardess ran in in a great hurry, saying, “I
beg pardon, but something has been forgotten.”
And she opened the door of a little room, looked
in, and went away again, ‘‘ What has been for-
gotten?” mamma asked. “Oh, nothing, nothing
at all.’ We wondered very much, and wanted to
know what it was, and we fancied all manner of
things, and the same noise began again on the deck.



THE SAND-BANK, 53

But what was it, mamma ?

I didn’t know at first, my dear, but I very
soon found out. A second knock came to the
door, and this time it was the captain with one
of the sailors. “Excuse me,” he said. “I am
sorry to disturb you, but there is something here
I wish to see.” They went into the little room
with a lantern, and saw that the little, round
window had been forced open, and the water was
coming in. The captain looked very grave; and
he and the sailor closed the window, and fastened
it up with a close shutter, to keep the water from
coming in. The stewardess stayed behind in the
saloon, and we begged her to tell us if anything
more had happened, “ Don’t be afraid,” she said,
“there is nothing to fear; only the boat has run
aground. It has struck on a gravel bank, and
the sailors have been putting all the heavy things
at the stern.”

“And what has the captain been doing in that
little room?” “He has been looking to see if the
water was coming in at the window, which it did,
because the sea was stormy, and the boat had
been heavily loaded. But keep quiet,” said the
stewardess, “there is nothing to be afraid of;”
and then she went away.



54 THE SAND-BANK.

Were you afraid, mamma ?

Oh no, my darling, because I knew that God
would take care of us, and not allow anything to
happen which was not to be for our good.

About half an hour afterwards we noticed
swater under the door of the little room, and it in-
creased till there was quite a stream running down
the cabin floor. Thinking we ought to tell the
captain, I threw on my cloak and rushed on deck.
There was no one to be seen; but after calling
several times, one of the sailors came to me, and
he gave my message to the captain. He went
down-stairs, and when he saw the water rushing
into the saloon he advised us to go on deck, and
then he set immediately to work to fasten the
window more firmly than had been done before.

As for us, we three sat down near the funnel,
and watched everything the sailors did to get the
boat off.

And what did they do?

Nearly all the sailors gotdown on the gravel bank,
and at a given signal they all pulled the ropes
which had been fastened to the boat for the pur-
pose of dragging it back; and those on deck
pushed with all their might against the long poles
which had been put down into the bed of the



THE SAND-BANK. 55

river, to help our Eagle to fly again. Several
times, when the captain thought it was moving
off, he ordered the paddles to be set in motion;
but all was in vain. The men pulled and pushed,
the wheel turned round and round, but the boat
stuck fast on the bank. It reminded me of those
poor unfortunate butterflies which we often see
fastened down by a pin run through the middle
of their bodies, actively moving their wings with-
out being able to fly away.

And what did you do, mamma ?

T could do nothing but notice what was going
on around me. Your grandmamma, your aunt,
and I, would very gladly have helped too; but
what could we have done? We thought the best
thing we could do was to sit quiet in our little
corner and wait patiently, without troubling the
sailors with our questions, or coming in their way
by walking up and down on the deck.

Is that the end of your story, mamma ?

No. I think you would not like to leave us
in the middle of the Rhone. I have not very
much more to tell you, but still I am sure you
would like to hear it, About one o’clock in the
morning, after a great deal of difficulty and hard
work, our sailors, with great delight, saw the boat



56 THE SAND-BANK.

move. Soon it was going at full speed, and when,
a short time afterwards, it stopped at its resting-
place for the night, we all went to bed, and I
need hardly say that every one on board slept
soundly.







CHAPTER IX.

THE LETTER—TIE PASSAGE OF THE BRIDGE OF
ST. ESPRIT—THE PILOT.
ee AVE you slept well, children ?

* Is my breakfast ready ?

Yes, my boy, but wait till you are
quite awake. Do you know where
we are?

In a room.

What room ?

In a room in the steamboat.

Shall we soon be at Geneva?

Yes, Lily. Half of the journey is already
over.

Is the boat going just now ?

To be sure it is; do you not hear the noise of
the paddles? It set off very early this morning,
indeed, before the sun had risen.





58 THE LETTER.

Were you out of bed, papa, when it started ?

Yes, and mamma too; and we had a little walk
while you were sleeping.

Where did you go?

Not very far away ; we did not go out of the
boat. The sailors were making ready to sail, but
it was so very dark that they passed before us
like ghosts ; and we with our cloaks drawn round
us must have looked like two ghosts standing still.

And then, what did you do?

After a little we came down stairs-again, but
as I did not feel sleepy, I wrote a letter to my”
sister.

Is she our sister too?

No. She is your aunt and your good friend.

Is she our kind friend ?

Yes, my dears. Was she not very happy when
she was with you, and were you not delighted to
stay with her?

Yes.

Well, those whom we love and who love us
are our friends. Who is your best friend ?

It is you.

It is mamma.

We are your good friends ; but there is a much
better one than us. It is He who has said, “Suffer



THE LETTER. 59

little children to come unto me,” and who laid his
hand upon their heads and blessed them. It is
the Lord Jesus.
And what, are you doing with that paper?
Tam w
Have you been writing a pretty story for us?
It is the letter I have written to your aunt.
Would you like me to read it to you ?
Yes !—yes !



ting.

“On board the ‘Sirocco,’ 4 o'clock morning.
“Dean Sisrer,—I am sure you must often be thinking of us
and the little children, and wondering what they are doing, and
where they are. Well, I will tell you. In answer to the first
question, What they are doing. They are just now fast asleep.
From the place where I am sitting I can sce them all three,
making up for the time they lost last night in the diligence.”



Do you know these little children I have just
been speaking about ?

Yes. It is Lily, and Francis, and little Harry.

Yes. You are right.

“Till now they have not been at all troublesome, and have
been quite contented, though they were obliged to do without the
little comforts which cannot be had on a journey.”

Oh, what a pretty vineyard lies on the hill
yonder !

Yes; and I can just see the heads of some of
the peasant women gathering the grapes.



60 THE LEGTER.



THE VINEYARD.
But listen, children.

“Francis is always lively. He notices everything,—vines,
sheep, the smoke which smokes, as he says; he admires them
all, Lily is only amused for a minute or two. She never loses
sight of the end of our journcy, and is always asking if we shall
soon be at Geneva.





THE LETTER. 61

“ Harry—with his prattle, and smiles, and screams of delight—
wives a holiday air to our journey. He is a little bird which tells
us that spring is coming.”

Where is the little bird, papa ?

There le is, fast asleep. It is your little
brother.

Why do you call him a bird? Birds have
wings, and little Harry has none.

He is not like the birds that fly in the air, but
I have called him a bird, because he is so good,
and tries to sing like them.

T shall go on with my letter :—

“We find spring everywhere on our journcy. It is in these
flowery meadows, in these warm sunbeams which come down
irom a cloudless sky, in these fresh green leaves which seem to
grow while we are looking at them, in the song of that nightin-
gale which I hear while I am writing. ‘A nightingale!’ you
will perhaps say. ‘I wonder that little voice is not terrified.
drowned by the noise of the wheels, the rushing of the waves, the

cries of the sailors. Are you not in asteamboat?’ Yes; but the
steamer has been at anchor since one o'clock in the morning.”













You do not know what I mean when I say
the boat is at anchor. A boat ora ship is at
anchor when it is fastened firmly by its anchor,
so that it cannot move from the same place. Can
we say that Francis is at anchor? No. Why?
Because he is never still fora moment. Come, my
boy, be quiet for a very little, till I finish the letter.



62 HE PASSAGE OF THE BRIDGE OF ST, ESPRIT.

“T have just been up-stairs for a moment to find out where we
are. I cannot tell you very exactly our position, but we are lying
in a most beautiful bend of the river. ‘The two banks, which are
very close to each other, are covered with rich green grass and
trees, as far as one can see by the light of thestars. ‘Towards the
east we can just see the dim outline of the hills rising one above
the other into high, gloomy mountains, behind which the dawn
of the 25th of April is beginning to appear. On the opposite side,
as far as the eye can reach, there are dark and light spots to be
seen. ‘The dark spots are the land, and the light ones are the
Rhone, which is hidden by the land, aud comes into view again a
little further on, But—"




That is not a pretty story.

It is too long.

Very well; I shall not trouble you with any
more of it.

Bring the children’s breakfast. They like
stories, but I think just now their breakfast would
please them better. The air of the Rhone seems
to give them an appetite. Make haste, for I wish
to show you a bridge. It is the largest one on
the Rhone, but the arches are so very narrow that
the steamers sometimes can scarcely pass through
them, especially when they are going up, as ours
is doing, because the current rushing through the
narrow arch is very rapid.

We have done breakfast.

Well, come up-stairs and you shall see the
bridge.



THE PASSAGE OF THE BRIDGE OF ST. ESPRIT. 63

Oh, what a large bridge! I see carts passing
over it, and little boys standing looking at us.

These are not little boys, but men as big as
papa. They only appear to be little because you
are a long way from them. There is a man
climbing up the side of the boat.

Where does he come from? From the town
of Pont St. Esprit.

What is he going to do?

To guide the boat. He is a pilot.

Why does he call out so?

Because just now he has charge of the boat,
and if he did not speak very loud the men would
not hear what he says, for in this narrow passage
the Rhone makes a terrible noise. See how the
people are running up and down on deck! I
should like to show you the bridge a little nearer,
but I am afraid we should be in the way of the
sailors. Let us keep quiet in this corner. See,
there are several sailors dragging a rope this way.

What are they going to do?

One end of that rope is fastened to a post fixed
on the bridge ; and see, they are going to tie the
other end of it to the side of the boat.

Why ?

When a gentleman comes off his horse to go



64 THE PILOT.

into a house for a few minutes, does he not fasten
the reins to a tree or to a ring fixed in the wall?

Yes.

Do you know why he does so?

To keep the horse from running away.

Well, the boat is kept from being carried away
by the current by that rope which is fastened to
a strong post on the bridge. Now the engines
are going again; the wheels are turning round.
We are off once more. We have passed the dan-
gerous part. The bridge was before us a few
minutes ago, and now there it is behind us.

The pilot is going to leave us now.

How will he get out of the boat?

The same way that he came in. You will see
in a little. The captain pays him—that is only
right ; he has had a great deal of trouble. For
nearly an hour he has been giving orders to the
men ; now to the men who have charge of tie
engines, and now to the sailors or to the men on
the bridge. His eye was everywhere, and he is
so very strong that he did as much as two of the
other men. There he is going away. Look at
him. He is going out of that opening in the side
of the boat.

Ts he going to throw himself into the water?



THE PILOT. 65

Oh no, not at all, Do you see a little boat at
the side of our large boat? It looks so very tiny
that one might think a breath of wind would
upset it. There is the pilot in it already. He
unfastens it; the current carries it away. It
glides and bounds over the waves like one of your
little paper-boats.

Will the pilot come back again?

He will come back to-morrow, and every day,
to guide the other boats which are going up the
river, but we shall not see him, as we are going
to Geneva.







CHAPTER X.
THE INUNDATION.

shall very soon lose sight of the bridge.

Look at it once more; it is worth the

trouble. From where we are stand-

ing we can sec the full length of it,
j although some of the arches are half

hidden behind tufts of grass.

Papa, there is not water under all the



arches ?

No, my dear; the Rhone runs only under the
arches which are near the town, but sotnetimes it
flows over that side where you see nothing but
gravel just now. We might say that it likes to
change its bed.

Has it a bed to rest on ?

Not like the one you slept on last night,—the
water is never tired, it does not need to rest or



THE INUNDATION. 67

sleep. The bed of a river is the ground over
which it usually flows.

I told you that the Rhone often changes its
bed, but it does not do so for the same reasons
that we change ours. When we leave a place, it
is to get what we think a better one. A minute
ago Lily was seated on that coil of ropes, but it
appears she was not very comfortable, as she has
taken a seat on her mamma's lap instead. But
a river changes its bed because it is obliged to
do so.

How is it obliged ?

I shall explain it to you. The torrents which
rush down to the Rhone carry with them stones
and sand, which fall to the bottom, and as the
bottom of the river fills up by degrees, the water
spreads itself over the lowest parts. It happens
sometimes that the Rhone covers all the gravel
which you see, and passes under all the arches of
the bridge.

Oh, have you ever seen that?

I have seen it, but a long time ago.

Were you in a steamboat ?

It was before there were any steamboats. 1
was a little boy at the time.

Like me?



68 THE INUNDATION.

Oh, older and bigger than you! I was spend-
ing a few weeks in the town of Pont St. Esprit.
I liked very much to walk by the side of the
river, and one day I found myself with one of my
companions on the dike. Do you know what a
dike is?

No.

I know.

Well, let us hear, my boy.

It is a—a—a—dike.

I thought you did not know. A dike is a very
thick wall which is built by the sides of rivers,
to keep the water from running into the fields.
Well, from the top of this wall we were looking
down to see the fish at the bottom of the river.
All at once the beautiful clear water got muddy.
It rose higher and higher, till it came near us.
We could not understand it. There had been
clouds in the sky, but there was no rain, Where
could such a sudden rush of water come from ?
As we saw that it was still rising, we were afraid,
and began to run, that we might get the sooner
home. And it was well we did so. We had
hardly got in when the rain began to pour out of
a great black cloud which hung over the town.
It seemed as if a whole Rhone were falling from



THE INUNDATION. 69

the sky. Happily, the rain did not last long;
the north wind chased the cloud away, and the
sky was again blue, I went out. The Rhone
was still rising higher. It already covered the
dike, and was spreading itself over the fields. It
was said that a village had been destroyed, and
that oxen and sheep, and even a baby’s cradle,
had been seen floating down the river.

Was there a little baby in it?

I am not very sure. Every one ran to the
bridge, and I was not the last to go. But a great
many people came back after they had walked a
few steps on it.

Why?

Because it shook under our feet, just as our
own house in Marseilles did when a cart passed
in the street. It was said, too, that the bridge
at Ardeche had been washed away, and that the
one you see there would soon be in pieces. As I
was not afraid, I stood on the bridge, and bent
my head over the parapet,—which is the name
given to the walls of a bridge, which are built to
keep people from falling into the water. Have
you ever scen in the harbour at Marscilles little
boys climbing up to the tops of the masts on
ladders made of rope ?



70 THE INUNDATION.

Yes; I remember we saw one who was so high
up that he looked like a little child.

There are ladders of wood quite as long on the
bridge of St. Esprit; and sailors who are in a
hurry to get down to the river, or to get up from
it, take that way of getting up and down. It
was on these same ladders, shaken by the waves,
that I saw men go down that day till they were
quite close to the water. Each of them had in
his hand a long pole with a hook and a sharp
point at the end, and they kept watching for the
pieces of wood and other things which were float-
ing down with the current. When anything
came within reach, they took hold of it with their
hook, and dragged it to them; but sometimes it
was so large and heavy that they could scarcely
pull it out, and more than once I have seen these
strong boatman totter, and nearly fall, with the
things they were trying to catch. The islands
you see there, and these beautiful green trees,
were buried under the water. All round there
was nothing to be seen but a great yellow sea,
with trees and planks of wood, pieces of furniture,
and all manner of things floating on its surface.
It was, I assure you, a very sad sight.

Why?



THE INUNDATION. 7

Because everything which the Rhone carried
away was so much lost to some poor person.

We should give them something.

They do not need anything now; but at that
time those who had lost nothing thought like you,
Lily, that they should help those who had. They
helped them to rebuild their houses; gave them
com to sow their fields; and after a few years,
one could not tell where the inundation had been ;
but the people who saw all that they had carried
away by the water often think of that time. And
it is well that they should do so.









CHAPTER XI.

THE SPEAKING-TRUMPE : —RECOLLECTIONS—THE FAIR.



LY, Francis, come on deck !

Did you call us, papa?
> Yes.
What a very Joud voice you have!
As I was on deck, and you were below
in the saloon, I came to the top of the stairs and
spoke to you through this tube.

Do it again.

Lily and Francis, come up-stairs. I wish to
show you a country which I love, because it is
my native country. Do you hear?

Oh yes. Again!

That is enough for the present. You don’t
know what this tube is called. It is like a
trumpet. It is called a speaking-trumpet, be-
cause we can speak through it as loud as the



~

CHE SPEAKING-TRUMPET.

blowing of a trumpet. Come here, Lily. Put
your mouth to it, and call your brother.

Francis !

Now, Francis, it is your turn. Call your sister.

Lily |

You have spoken very loud.

Tapa, will you buy me a speaking-trumpet ?

T shall take good care not to do that. You
make enough of noise with your voice as it is.

But perhaps you think it is only a toy, put
there to amuse children ?

Yes.

Ob no, my dears, It is of great use in this
boat. You have seen the captain speak from
one end of the deck to some of the men at the
other end of it, and you could hear him quite
well, because it was calm weather; but some-
times the wind blows with great fury, and the
waves make a dreadful noise, and if the captain
at such a time should have an order to give,
would not his voice be drowned by the louder
voices of the wind and the waves?

What does he do then ?

He speaks through this trumpet, and every
one hears him.

What did you wish to show us?



74 RECOLLECTIONS.

A pretty town; but we cannot see it yet.

You see that white road where the carriages
are driving, and where the clouds of dust are
flying? When I was a little boy I often walked
on that road, climbed that hill which you see on
‘the other side of it, and paid many a. visit to the



Bea

THE OLD TOWER,

ruins of that old tower. I could tell the names
of all the villages on the Rhone, and of the vil-



RECOLLECTIONS. 75

lages in the valleys too, When I was young, I
heard them so often spoken of, that now, when I
hear the name of any of them, it sounds to me
like the name of a friend. But you cannot
understand how it is that I feel both glad and
sorry when I see this part of the country again.
I wonder where all the friends are who once ran
about these woods and hills with me! In a
little village at the foot of that hill to which I
am pointing, there lives one of those children,
who, like you, used to be always laughing and
jumping about; but she is now lying in bed
very ill, and I fear she may never get better.
And my mother, who would have loved you so
much if she had known you—my good mother,
who was always watching over me—where is she?

You told us she was in heaven.

Yes, my darlings; and she has now no more
pain or sorrow—she is at rest. Your little
cousin, too, who is now lying ill, will soon go
and join my mother in the rest which is pre-
pared by the Lord Jesus for his people. I hope
that we too may go to heaven some day. But
while we are here, let us try to have a heavenly
spirit ; let us love God, and let us be like him—
kind to every one.



76 RECOLLECTIONS.

We are coming near the town which I wish
you to see. Look what crowds of people are on
the road }

Where is the road ?

Quite near us. That bill looks as if it would
fall down on our boat, it hangs over the river so
much. One would think that a goat could not
find room between the water and the hill for its
little foot; and yet, see! there is a good road
there, I assure you.

Ah, there are sheep passing !

Yes, there is a large flock of sheep.

Are the shepherds taking them to some place
where they will have fresh grass?

No, my dear. I see the farmers have their
best coats on. They are going to the town to
sell their sheep. See! there is a little boy stand-
ing looking at us. He does not notice that his
father and his mother have gone on with the
sheep. Now, he does, and begins to run to make
up to them. Poor little boy, he has tumbled ;
but he has not hurt himself, for there he is up
again. He has rubbed the dust off his clothes,
and is beginning to run again. I am sure he is
very happy to go to the town.

There is another flock! and now, look, there



RECOLLECTIONS. 7
are pigs! See! two of them have one of their
feet tied to a string, which the woman who is
leading them holds in her hand. Why are their
feet tied? It will hurt them.

Oh no; they must be tied, to keep them from
running away. There is one which would have
fallen into the water if it had not been kept back
by the rope round its foot. These two men on
mules, who look so proud as they trot along, have
frightened the poor pigs. And see, here are more
people, and cattle too,

Where are they ?



In the ferry-boat. They are coming across the
Rhone. They are quite near. The boatmen are
pulling with all their might, and the current is
helping them. There they are. There are men,
and women, and oxen, and a cart. Look at the



78 THE FAIR.

apparently awkward shape of the boat. It is the
best, however, for safety, though not for speed.
This is not the same shape; it is longer and
higher. But boats of this kind could not stand
the sea; the slightest wind would upset them.

That one is going to be upset. Oh, the people
will be drowned! they will be drowned!

No, no, my dears. The boat bas only got into
the waves which the paddles of our boat have made.
Now it has got past the waves. It is quite safe.

Do you know where all these people are going ?

They are going to the fair.

What is a fair?

It is a place where a great many people sell
and buy. They sell sheep, oxen, mules ; indeed,
all sorts of things—cloth for dresses, leather for
shoes, books, toys, sugar-plums. Children often
wish to go to fairs, but their parents, who know
better than they do, will not allow it; for there
is often a great deal at fairs that children should
not see or hear, Wherever a great many people
are gathered together, there are always some wicked
people among them ; and it is much better for chil-
dren to keep away from hearing wicked words or
seeing wrong things. Ifthey were to be accustomed
to such things, they might soon learn to do them,







CHAPTER XII.

A FISHER OF TO-DAY AND A FISHER LONG AGO.



HERE is a man in a little boat! is he
going to the fair too?

No, my dear; do you not see that the
boat is always in the same place? It is
fastened to the shore. That man is
a fisherman.

Is he catching fish ?

Yes. Watch him for a little; he has a long
pole in his hand, with a net fastened to the end
of it; there, he has put it into the water—now
he draws it up, but there are no fish in the net.
He puts it down again; let us see if he will be
more fortunate this time. No; the net is empty.
Down once more; nothing yet. Poor fisherman!
he is wearying himself for no use, Perhaps he
has been here since the morning, out in the burn-



80. A FISHER OF TO-DAY AND A FISHER LONG AGO.

ing sun. I see he has not got even one littl:
fish in his boat. Any other person would have
lost patience, and given it up long ago; but he
waits on in hope. He has tried it for the fourth
time, and it seems with no better success, for he



FISHING.

has put the net into the water again. We can-
not see him any longer. Good-bye, fisherman ;
we wish you may catch some before you go home,
as a reward for all the trouble you have taken ;
but whether you do or not, remember that God
is with you, and put your trust in him.

Is God with that fisherman ?

Yes, my darling.

Is he with us too?

Oh yes, he is.

I do not see him.

He sees you.

But how can I know that he sees me?

Well, listen, and I will tell you a little story.



A FISHER OF TO-DAY AND A FISHER LONG aGo. 81

Several fishermen were sitting together one even-
ing, and one of them said, “I go a fishing.” He
rose up. His friends rose at the same time, and
they all set off together. They got into their
boat, and worked hard all night, but caught
nothing.

Do people fish in the night ?

Yes, dear.

But they cannot see well!

It is all the better. If the fishes could see,
they would not come near the nets, nor let them-

. selves be caught in them so easily. The story

which I am telling you happened two thousand
years ago. Well, the fishermen at Marseilles do
just as the fishermen of Galilee did; they go out
to fish at night, and come back in the morning.

These poor men, as I told you, had been out
the whole night, but had not caught one single
fish, Morning came, but, patient like the fisher
we have just seen, they were still at work, hoping
always that the next throw of the net would
bring them something. Suddenly a man ap-
peared at the side of the water.

What did he do?

He turned to them and said, “ Children, have
you any fish?” They said, “No,” Although

(381) 6



82 A FISHER OF TO-DAY AND A FISHER LONG AGO.

they had been out all night, they had not one
fish, not even the smallest thing. This man said
to them, “Cast the net on the right side of the
boat, and you will find some.” They put it
down, and it was soon so heavy with the number
of fishes in it, that they could not pull it up
again.

Do you know who this man was?

No.

One of the fishers guessed, and said, “ It is the
Lord.” Another fisherman, called Peter, on hear-
ing that, threw himself into the sea, that he might
get the sooner to his Lord.

And then, what happened ?

Those who remained in the boat came to the
shore, dragging the net filled with fishes. So,
before they saw the Lord Jesus, he saw them.
He saw them when they were in the house, when
they were on their way to fish, and when they
were in the boat. Every time they cast their
net into the sea and drew it up empty, the Lord
saw them. Like you, my dear, they thought
they were alone ; but the eye of their Master was
on them. I am quite sure that they never for-
got that night; and afterwards, when they were
ill, or poor, or in prison, do you think they were



A FISHER OF TO-DAY AND A FISHER LONG aco, 83







LOOKING AT THE TOWN
sad and without any hope? No; they said,
“The Lord is with us, as he was that night we
were out fishing. We do not see him, but he
sees us.” And they had no fear.



84 A FISHER OF TO-DAY AND A FISHER LONG AGO.

Ah, there at last is the town which I wished
you to see. There is the landing-place ; the bell
is ringing. What crowds of people are running
to see the boat arrive!

Are these people your friends?

Oh no; I have not so many. Not one of them
knows me, and I don’t know any of them. My
friends did not know we were to pass this morn-
ing, or they might have come to see us.

Shall we go to see them ?

The boat would go away without us. It only
stops a few minutes, to take in or land passengers.
There are people coming to sell things, but they
take care not to come to our end of the boat.

Why ?

Because they are afraid the boat might carry
them away. I was sailing down the Rhone some
years ago, and the boat stopped a few minutes
just as it has done now, A woman selling
cherries came on board, and while she was bar-
gaining with a gentleman who wished to buy all
she had in her basket, the paddles began to move.
The poor woman rushed to the side of the boat
where she had come in; it was too late. She
began to weep; she begged the captain to stop
the boat and let her out; it was all in vain.



A FISHER OF TO-DAY AND A FISHER LONG AGo. 85

Some of the passengers thought he had played her
a very clever trick, and laughed at the poor woman,

It was very wicked of them to do so, because
the woman was very poor. She lost half a day ;
and besides, she had left several little children at
home, who needed their mothe? to give them
their dinner and take them to school.

Well, do you know what we did? The pas-
sengers who were sorry for the poor woman
gathered a little money for her, and .put it into
her hand as she went out of the boat, to help her
to get back to Valence.

Was she pleased ?

Oh, very much so!

We only a few minutes ago stopped ; and see!
we are going off again already. Look what a
crowd of people are selling and buying: The
people who are bringing things to sell are stand-
ing on shore, and the people who wish to buy are
standing at the side of the boat. They are throw-
ing the money and the things for sale into the
air, backwards and forwards, at the risk of every-
thing falling into the Rhone! The boat is moving.
There is a man leaning forward to catch a bunch
of radishes which some one is holding out to him.
They have in vain stretched out their arms from



86 A FISHER OF TO-DAY AND A FISHER LONG AGO.

each side, their hands cannot reach each other ;
there is a gap between them. Now the passenger
will have his radishes; the woman has thrown
them into the boat, and he has thrown some cop-
pers to her on the quay. The quay seems to go
away with all the people on it, and the town will
soon be out of sight. Good-bye, Valence! Now,
children, come to dinner.









CHAPTER XIII

‘THE BARGES—THE MEETING OF THE RHONE AND THE
ISERE.



SVAPA, there are horses in a barge.

They are going down the river, and
we are going up.

They do not move at all.

No, they are ranged in a line, and
keep their places like soldiers under arms.

There is one putting down his head. He is
drinking some of the water of the Rhone.

The water reaches to his very mouth; it
touches the deck of the barge; it looks as if it
would go into it. But that would be a sad
thing. There is a little in it, which has got in
through the joints in the wood; and do you see
what the bargeman is doing? He is busy lifting
the water in a kind of bowl, and pouring it out



88 THE BARGES.

as fast as he can. And do you know why the
captain has made the engine be stopped while we
are passing ?

No.

Because the waves made by the paddles of our
boat might have rushed into the barge, and made
it sink.

I should like to see the horses again.

Perhaps we shall see some more as we go on.

Where are they going?

To Beaucaire.

What are they going to do there?

You shall know by-and-by.

Lily, mamma is calling you ; she wishes to show
you something at the other side of the boat. I
shall stay here with Francis ; he is looking out for
a barge, so if you should see one, you will tell us.

O papa, how dirty the water is !

No, papa, it is not dirty.

It is muddy, like that we had at dinner.

It is quite clear.

Mamma, is that water not muddy ?

Yes, Lily, it is.

Papa, is that water not clear?

Yes, my little man.

Francis, mamma says that it is muddy.





THE MEETING OF THE RHONE AND THE ISERE. 89

Lily, papa says that it is clear.

It is muddy.

It is clear.

That is not true.

It is true.

Children, I wish you to change places. Francis,
you will go to your mamma; Lily, come beside
me. Look!

It is clear just now!

And you, Francis, how do you see it?

That water is muddy.

Lily, give me your hand; we shall go and sit
down beside mamma and Francis. But what is
the meaning of this? The water is clear on one
side, and muddy on the other! As the boat goes
on, its beautiful colour comes back. We only
see a few whitish spots like little clouds in a
clear blue sky, and even these, you sec, are all
away now.

But you don’t understand it, do you?

Well, do you see that river to the right, rolling
its muddy waves? it looks as if it were coming to
us. That is the Isere; it has mixed its waters
with the blue waters of the Rhone, and made
them muddy.

But when Lily went beside her mamma, the



90 THE BARGES.

waters of the two rivers were not yet mixed
together; there was muddy water on Lily’s side,
and clear water on Francis’ side; the meeting of
the waters was under our boat. The children,
then, were both right. But they were wrong in
saying to each other that they were not telling
the truth. They must remember that things
seem very unlike when they are looked at from
different places.

Papa, I see one, two, three steamboats.

Are you speaking of these barges near the
shore? These are not steamboats.

But I have seen smoke.

That may be; the men must have a fire to
cook their dinners. These barges don’t go so
fast as our boat; they seem as if they were
standing still; we must look at them a long time
before we can see that they are going at all. Do
you know what drives them on?

No.

Have they paddles ?

No; there are no paddles,

Or sails ?

No.

Or rowers ?

No; there are no rowers. They go quite alone.



THE BARGES. 91

Ob no; if they were alone, they would not go
up the river, they would go down. Do you not
remember that this morning, when our boat
stopped for a few minutes, we threw a cork into
the water? Did it go up the river against the
running water ?

No; it floated away down towards Marseilles.

Oh yes; I vemember you said to it,—‘A
pleasant voyage, cork.”

And an instant afterwards we lost sight of it ;
did we not? But if we had fastened a piece of
cord to the cork, and given it to Lily to hold in
her hand, would it have sailed away down to
Marseilles ?

No; I would have pulled it, and it would
have come to Geneva with me.

Well, what we did for the cork, others have
done for these barges.

But I do not see the cord.

It is not a piece of cord, but a rope, or rather
several ropes joined together, which is called a
cable.

And who pulls it—a man?

No; a man would not be strong enough.
Look over there.

I see horses; what a great many! I shall



92 THE BARGES.

count them. One, two, three, four, five—there
ave nineteen. They have been resting a few
minutes. Now they are off again. Some are
on the horse-path, and the others are walking
in the water,

They will be drowned.

Oh no; they are good swimmers, and they
always keep close to the bank.

How hard they are pulling!



HORSES DRAWING TH



Do you hear the cries of the men who are
driving them on?

The horses pull the cable, and make the water
splash round it as it is stretched tight. And
now, could you guess the use of these horses
which have just passed us going down the Rhone
in a barge?



THE BARGES. 93

I don’t know.

They are going to Beaucaire, to drag boats
like those you see just now to Lyons. So these
horses ave never away from the Rhone; when
they have gone up the river, they go down, just
to go up again. Would you like to be in one of
those barges? You would find it very pleasant ;
there is no noise; and they move on so smoothly
that you can scarcely feel that they are moving
at all. And then in the barge mamma would
have time to draw these mills, and bridges, and
trees, and castles for you, of which you would
like so much to have a picture, but which our
boat is now passing by so quickly.

But then the passage would be a little longer,
and I know you think it long enough as it is, for
you are always asking if we have not come to
Geneva yet.

How long would it be if we were dragged by
these horses ?

They have been on the way twenty-two days
already, and it will be eight more before they
reach Lyons; so it is much better for us to stay
where we are, for to-morrow, if it is God’s will,
we shall be at the end of our journey.





CHAPTER XIV.

THE RAFTS.



GP OW fast we are going! The barges and
9 the horses are far away from us already.
We are going further and further into
this long, narrow valley. That hill
looks as if it would stop us altogether.
Shall we have to get out of the boat and climb it,
to get to the other side?

No. The Rhone makes a bend, which leads
us into another valley. These low walls which
wind round the hills, like a winding stair, are
made to keep the earth upon the rocks from
being washed away by the rain. The hills are
bare just now, but a month after this they will
be covered all over with a beautiful green; for
vines are grown there. We shall soon pass
under the first iron bridge on the Rhone. In



THE RAFTS. 95

the meantime, I wish you to see a boat not like
any you have ever seen before.

Where is it ?

There it is, passing by us on that side.

It is not a boat, it is a floor.

Yes ; it is very like a floor.

Tell me, children, if we were upon one bank
of the Rhone at the foot of these large trees,
and Geneva were upon the opposite side, how
could we get to it?

I would ask grandmamma to come for us.

But she would neither see nor hear you.

We should cross the river by a bridge.

Oh, that would be easy enough; but if there
were no bridge, nor barge, nor steamboat, how
could we reach it? I could swim across, and so
could Carlo; but you cannot swim, and I should
not like to leave you.

I would make a steamboat.

You could not do that, my boy. Where
would you get these large pieces of wood which
you would need ; and if you had them, how could
you carry them away? And the boilers and the
engines, they are not to be found all ready made.
You would need to go a long way and dig deep
in the earth before you could get iron, and per-



96 THE RAFTS.

haps you would not find any at all; but even if
you had it, would you be able to cut it, or beat it
out, or round it, or drill it? You would not be
able to make even the smallest nail.

And you, Lily, how would you get across the
river ?

I would make a little boat.

You are more modest than your brother, but
your plan would not succeed any better, even
although I were to help you. To make the
smallest boat you would need to have a car-
penter’s tools, —hatchets, saws, nails, planes, &c. ;
and even if you had all these, would you be able
to make any use of them?

I might perhaps be able to cut down a tree,
and, after a great deal of time and trouble, saw
it into logs; but would that be enough ?

Certainly not. You would need to put these
logs together, bend other large pieces of wood,
and make both sides the very same, so that the
boat would not lean more to one side than the
other.

It would not be easy to do that ; and, besides,
it would take too much time. As for me, I
would not think of building either a steamboat
or a barge. Do you know what I would do?



THE RAFTS. 97

I would cut down a few poplar or willow trees ;
you would help your mother to break off the
branches, and I would make use of them asa
rope to tie the trunks together; and there would
be my boat.

Simple boats like these are called rafts. And
in one thing they are better than any other
kind of ships—they cannot founder; which means
that they cannot go to the bottom.

T should like you to make me a little raft.

But in some things they are not so good as
other boats; and I must tell you what they are.
It is more difficult to steer them than it is to
steer a common boat; one needs a great deal of
skill to guide them over some parts of the Rhone ;
but the worst thing about them is, that these
logs, if they do not go to the bottom, very easily
come separate. Sometimes a knock against one

- of the arches of a bridge is enough to break the
ropes which tie the logs of a raft together, and
loosen them one from the other.

What happens then ?

The goods which happen to be on the raft fall
into the water and are lost; and the men are in
great danger of being drowned if they are not
very quick in catching hold of one of the logs,

‘381) 7



98 THE RAFTS.

and keeping afloat in this manner till help come
to them.

Shall we see any more rafts ?

I don’t think we shall; they are not used so
much now, because it has been found that they
are the cause of a great many accidents. One of
the most dangerous places in the river was the
bridge of St. Esprit. I have seen more than one
raft dashed to pieces against it. I shall tell you
about, it some other time.





Full Text

The Baldwin Library

RnB vie




dete

MitTbR. Lily Ss TRAVAGS.

st onhbetes


LITTLE JOSEPH
Liar: bis |










LITTLE LILY'S TRAVELS.

A Book for the Poung

BY THE ALTHO OF

“LITTGE LILY'S PICTURE LESSONS.”

LONDON:
T NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW;
EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK.

1873.




u.

Iv.

y.

vi.

vil.

vu.

1X,

xi

XI,

XL

xiv.

Xv.

XV.

@ontents,





‘THE DEPARTURE—THE ILLUMINATION—THE DILIGENCE, 7
ORGON—A SISTER OF CHARITY—LITILE JOSEPH, 12
THE DURANCE—THE CLOUD—AVIGNON, 18
A LITTLE BOY BETTER THAN MOST BOYS, : es
THE SIROCCO—THE SIMOOM—THE ARABS, ame 2)
A DANGEROUS LANDING AT AVIGNON, ee 40





THE STEAMER, ... es eo , ei

THE SAND-BANK, . i Pe . ee 50)





THE LETTER —THE PASSAGE OF THE BRIDGH OF ST.









ESPRIT—THE PILOT, 5 a7
THE INUNDATION, ... es ‘ 2 mm 6
THE SPEAKING-TRUMPET—RECOLLECTIONS—THE FAIR, 2
A FISHER OF TO-DAY AND A FISHER LONG AGO, eo) a9)
THE BARGES—THE MEETING OF THE RHONE AND THE ISERE, $7
‘THE RAFTS, 8
THE BRIDGE AND THE FERRY-BOAT, ... s 9
THE MOUNTAINS, af , - eeeeelCy


—

vi CONTENTS.

XVI THE



-ARM-HOUSE, se ena a : ae

XVII A LEITER TOA FRIEND, 5









THE SHIPWRECK—-LYONS, «.. : 3
XNI. THE JOURNEY FROM LYONS —THE LAKE OF NANTUA—THE
FIR BRANCHES, - - a ee

[HE PINE-TREE—THE TRAVELLERS,



XXII, THE FIR-TREE'S STORY:

OF VECLUSE—



XXIM, THE LITTLE BEGGAR-GIRL—THE FORTRES

SWITZERLAND, «+ tes : Fes e



140

wT

256


CHAPTER I.

THE DEPARTURE—THE ILLUMINATION—THE DILIGENCE.



E must make haste. Nine o'clock is
just going to strike. The coach will
K- be off. Put on Lily’s and Francis’
travelling-hats, and take this basket
of provisions. Francis would not like
it left behind. Harry, my boy, you are setting
out on your first journey, but you do not look as
if you cared much. May God watch over us all
this night.

Come, we must be off. Here we are in the
street; the door of the house is shut. Adieu,
dear house, where we have received such a kind
welcome. Adieu, kind friends; we are going
8 THE ILLUMINATION,

away far from you, but we shall never forget you.
And Carlo, our travelling companion, what has
become of him? He has been left in the house ;
listen to his barking. I shall go and unchain
him, Oh, how he leaps for joy and runs to the
children !—he is looking for all his old friends.—
Yes, Carlo, we are all here.

O papa, what beautiful lights !

Yes, my darling ; there is an illumination this
evening.

I see trees burning !

The lamps are hung on the trees. There is a
xow of them on both sides of the street. We
shall pass down between them.

What crowds of people! How bright the
lights are !

There are lights all round us; but as you are
too little to see over the heads of all these people,
I shall take you up in my arms, There is a long
row of lights, you see.

Yes ; and there are lights in the sky too.

But the lights in the sky are not at all like
the lights on the earth. The ones near us burn
only for a short time. You see a great many
have gone out already, and there is a man com-
ing with a long reed in his hand to light them
THE DILIGENCE. 9

again. Yesterday there were no lights to be seen
here, and to-morrow there will be none; but the
stars, the lights in the sky, will shine as they are
doing now. It is God who has placed them high
up there, and he will also make a glorious sun to
rise to-morrow morning to light us on our journey.

Ah! here we have at last arrived at the coach-
office. Take care!

Where are all these people running to? There
are some soldiers.

Ah! it is the prince; the town has been lighted
up for him.

That he may see well ?

No, my dear; the people wish to show him
that they are happy to see him again. He has
just come back from a country far away over
the sea.

He must be very tired.

I daresay he is tired, but he will soon forget
it when he sees the people so happy to see him.
But now the crowd have all run after him, and
we must get into the coach. Now, children,
give a last kiss to the friends who have been so
kind to you.

Adieu, dear friends; remember the travellers
in your prayers.
10 THE DILIGENCE.

Coachman, put Carlo on the top; don’t be
afraid; he is as gentle as a lamb. Wait one -
moment; here’s my cloak to cover him.

We are off at last !

But is that not Carlo’s bark? The poor dog
has not seen us, and perhaps thinks we are left
behind. He wants to get back to us. What
makes him howl in that pitiful way? Now he
has jumped from the top of the coach to the road }
Oh, I am afraid the wheels will hurt him! Stop,
driver! Carlo, Carlo! wearehere. There he is,
standing up at the coach door wagging his tail.
He knows us. Coachman, you may drive on;
he will be quiet now, because he knows we are
here.

See what crowds of people! The coachman is
always calling out, “Take care!—take care!”
Many of them, I daresay, in passing will be pity-
ing us travellers going away from all that amuses
them so much. What do you think of it, chil-
dren? Would you rather be walking in the
streets than driving away ?

No; because we wish to go to Geneva.

You like to go, and they like to stay ; that is
just as it should be.

We have left behind us the lights and the
ae THE DILIGENCE. 11

crowd, and we shall hear nothing now but the
rumbling of the wheels and the sound of the
horses’ feet upon the road.

Are we at Geneva yet?

Oh! not yet, dear; but don’t be afraid, we shall
be there in good time.

How cold the air feels!

Put on your cloak, and lay your head on my
knee and go to sleep.




CHAPTER I.

ORGON—A SISTER OF CHARITY—LITTLE JOSEPH.




Y dear children, it is daylight and you
% ave still asleep. They do not hear me.
.<, They are tired, and we must not awake

a them. You are sleeping peacefully,
ie because you are with your parents ;

and they have no fear, because they
know that God takes care of them.

While we are going on our journey the sun is
rising. There he is appearing above that hill.
He will soon awake the children; one of his bright
rays shines into the diligence, and plays upon Lily’s
face. Little Lily rubs her eyes, opens them and
shuts them again, because the light is too strong.

Where are we, papa?

A long way from Marseilles. We have been
driving on and on all night.



A SISTER OF CHARITY. 13

Then the poor horses must be very tired.

The horses we have now are not the ones with
which we set off. We have changed horses three
times while you have been sleeping, and now we
are going to change again, for we have arrived at
Orgon, another stage on our journey. See! they
ave taking out the horses, to let them get a rest
as soon as possible. There are our fresh ones ;
they are not tired, they have been all night in a
comfortable stable.

What lady is that coming to us?

It is a sister of charity.

Why is she called a sister?

She calls herself a sister of charity, because
she goes about visiting and attending to sick
people as if they were her brothers and sisters—
just as Lily would nurse Francis if he were sick,
or Francis Lily.

Her dress is all black.

Yes; all the women who call themselves sisters
of charity wear these strange dresses; but we
may love and be kind to the sick without having
an odd, ugly dress. The dress is nothing; it is
the kind heart that is wanted. Neither Francis
nor Lily have a black dress, or a white hood ; but
if they are loving children, and wish to be kind,
4 LITTLE JOSEPH.

they may do something to help their poor brothers
and sisters, even though they are little children.
How many brothers have you?

Two.

And you?

A brother and a sister.

Ab! God has given you a great many more.

And where are they ?

They are all the little children in the world:

Do you see that little boy on the road ?

Is that a brother ?

I do not know him.

He has got no shoes on.

His hands are dirty.

Ah! that is because he is poor.

He gathers manure on the road, and sells it to
buy bread.

Do you know who has created him ?

The good God.

And you?

The good God.

And where has God placed him ¢

On the earth.

And you?

On the earth too.

And who does the earth belong to?
LITTLE JOSEPH. 15

To God.

So, then, this little boy and you live together
in God’s house; and the same sun which shines
into our diligence warms his bare feet; the same
rain falls upon him and upon you; the same
stars which shine at night over our head shine
over his; and one day both you and he, if you
love God, will meet in heaven.

Papa, may I speak to him?

Perhaps he would not answer you. I had
better speak to him first.

Little boy, will you go to the other side of the
ditch for a blue flower which I see there, and get
it for my little girl? There is a yellow one, too,
a little further off, which I would like you to
bring for my little boy.

He sees what I want, and is off at once. See
how he runs! There he is coming back already
with the flowers. Come upon the step, my little
fellow ; the diligence * is not yet ready to start.
What pretty flowers! Lily, here is yours.

And mine, papa?

There it is; they are still wet with the morn-
ing dew.

What is your name ?

* A diligence is the name of a French stage-coach,
16 LITTLE JOSEPH.

Joseph,

Don’t go down yet. I am sure these children
would like to give you something for the beauti-
ful flowers you have brought them. Would you
not, dears ?

Yes—yes !

Let us see. What will you give him?

Some of our toys.

Then, come here to the door that you may give
them yourselves.

Put your hand into this basket, Joseph, and
choose what you like; don’t be afraid.

He has taken my beautiful horse! I don’t
wish him to take it away! I don’t wish
it!

Joseph, will you give him back his horse? I
am very sorry that my little boy should be so
unkind to you, after you have been so kind to
him.

Papa, I will let him have it.

Very well. Joseph, since he gives it to you
willingly now, take it again, and lend it to your
brothers and sisters at home. Good-bye, my
little friend.

Good-bye—good-bye.

The horses are put in now. Do you see how

(381)
LITTLE JOSEPH. ids

impatient that one is to get away? See how he
tosses his head and prances! He is off; there is
no need for the whip. The two others are as
ready to set off as he is.



(381) 2




CHAPTER IL.

THE DURANCE—THE CLOUD—AVIGNON.

RANCIS, what do you see beyond these
tall poplars ?





The sea.
< No, my boy, it is only a river—the
up Durance—which in a short time we

shall cross on a wooden bridge.

How pretty the flowers are in the hedge-rows !
Let down the windows, that we may breathe the
fresh morning air.

How quickly we are going. The trees seem
to fly away behind us. Oh, what pretty sheep
in that meadow !

Francis, my boy, come here and look out at
this side. Ah, you are too late!

I wish to see them.

The diligence cannot stop; but we shall pro-
THE DURANCE. 19

bably see more of them. See, there is another
little flock! There will be plenty of time to
see it, for we have come to a hill. There is
a ewe looking at us; her lamb is lying near
her.

See! it has risen, and is leaping for joy. Now
it is eating the fresh grass; and now it is run-
ning races. Ah! in one of its gambols it has
fallen into a ditch.

T see one all black come to look for it.

Now they are playing, knocking their heads
against each other.

Will they hurt one another ?

No, my dears; lambs are gentle creatures, and
little children should try to be gentle like them.

They have gone away.

No; we have gone away from them.

We are not walking.

No, but the horses are walking, and they drag
the diligence. Just notice if we have not changed
our place, A few minutes ago we passed some
men and women reaping, and now we have come
down to the river, which is flowing peacefully
through the corn-fields. We shall cross the bridge
immediately ; it is over the Durance. Our coach
goes between these red painted railings. The water


20 THE DURAN

runs far below us, but it cannot come up to us.
Here we ave across.



Are we at Geneva yet?

Not yet at Geneva; but in a short time we
shall be at Avignon. Are you wearied with the
journey? Shall I tell you something ?

Yes! yes!

Well, in a little while you will see water which
comes from Geneva.

Where does this water run to?

It runs down to the sea.

Does it not go back to Geneva with us?

No, dear, a river always runs on; it can never
THE CLOUD. 21

go back again. But I am mistaken; a part of
the beautiful Rhone, which you will see imme-
diately, goes back to Geneva. Can yon guess
how it gets back ?

_In a coach ?

No.

In a steamer ?

No.

We do not know.

It goes back in a cloud.

Oh!

I shall tell you how. Lily, do you remember
that one day after the eggs had been boiled for
breakfast, you took the pan and put it on the
fire, and left it there, and what happened ?

Oh, I was so sorry ; the pan was burned.

There was water in the pan when you put it
on, was there not?

Yes; but the water all went away.

Where did it go?

I do not know.

It went up into the air—the heat of the fire
made it go up into the air.

I did not see it.

You did not see it go up as water, but you
saw white smoke going up out of the pan, did
22 THE AVIGNON.

you not? That white smoke was the water,
which the heat of the fire had turned into steam.
And it is also heat—the heat of the sun—which
makes the water rise into the air.

But we have never seen it.

It is not easily seen, because the tiny drops
which the sun draws up are so fine and small ;
but when a great many are gathered together,
they make what is called a cloud.

Where does it go?

Wherever the wind drives it, over mountains
and valleys. It may stop, for instance, over
Geneva; and the rain which falls from that cloud
may be the same water which had risen into the
air from the river.

I wonder which of us will be the first to see
the beautiful river Rhone. We are very near
it now.

What do you see, Francis ?

High towers.

These are the towers of the palace of Avignon.
From them can be seen the ribbon of the Rhone
winding through the fields.

Is the Rhone then a ribbon?

No, but it is like one. I saw it one day from
the top of a high mountain, and its windings
THE AVIGNON. 23

across the flat country below were like a silvery
blue ribbon carelessly thrown on a green carpet.

And you, Lily, do you see anything pretty ?

I see beautiful trees on this side.

Look down. What do you see there?

Water.

That is the Rhone, children; and as we go on
we shall see it better. It is not so blue here’ as
when it leaves the lake.

Why?

Because as it runs on to the sea a great many
rivers and streams pour their muddy waters
into it.

But how is this? You know we were to have
gone up the river in a steamer. I see no boat,
and it is very late. The horses stop; we have
arrived. Let us ask this gentleman who is coming
up to the coach about the boat.

Will you be kind enough to tell us, sir, if there
will be a boat going up the river to-day ?

The last for to-day left three hours ago. There
will be one to-morrow; but surely you don’t
think of going by a steamer ?

Why ?

Because it is very uncomfortable, and so slow.
I would advise you to go by coach, and you will
24 THE AVIGNON.

be in Lyons to-morrow evening. For the rest of
the journey you may do as you like; but I assure
you that you had better take my advice and take
the coach as far as Lyons.

Where does the coach start from ?

From this office.

And who gives out the tickets for the coach ?

I do.

Thank you, sir; I shall just go to the steam-
boat office before deciding.—Children, you had
better stay with mamma till I come back.




CHAPTER IV.

A LITTLE BOY BETTER THAN MOST BOYS.






a

F. BRING good news, children. We can
still go to-day, and as the boat will sail
2 very soon, we must make haste. My
boy, you will carry this parcel ; and
you, Lily, take this basket, All travel-
lers must try to be useful. How very sorry I
am to leave this town so soon.

Why ?

Because I have a very dear friend here. How
pleasant it would have been to have surprised
him by a visit! I should have liked to see his
children, and to show you to him.

Does he not know us?

No; but he loves you.

And do you love him?

Listen for a moment. One day, a long time
26 A LITTLE, BOY BETTER THAN MOST BOYS.

ago, he paid a visit to my mother, and said to
her, putting his hand on my head, and looking
kindly at me, “Send this little boy to me, and I
shall teach him what he ought to know to make
him a wise man.” I was sent, and from that
time he taught me all that boys learn at school
and college. I lived with him, and he was as kind
to me as if I had been his own son. Don’t you
think I must love this friend who was so kind
to me?

Oh yes, you must love him very much. But
why was he so good and kind ?

Because he had suffered very much. He has
often told me his own story.

Oh, do tell it to us!

I am not sure that it would be right for me
to tell you unless he allowed me. Suppose he
were to hear about the stories I have told you,
do you not think he might be displeased with me
for telling you all about him? But, to be sure,
I might tell him that it is good for my children
to know what such a useful man as he is did
when he was a child.

The story! the story!

Well, when he was your age, he was poor, and
often very ill. He had no amusement of any
A LITTLE BOY BETTER THAN MOST BOYS. 27

kind. He came home immediately after school
was over ; and while his companions were playing,
what do you think he did? His work was to
shell almonds; and often the hammer, instead of
striking the shell, came down upon his little
fingers, which would have made many other chil-
dren cry, but this little boy suffered and went on
with his work without complaining. He would
have liked sometimes to have eaten some of the
delicious almonds, but was not allowed to taste a
single one.

Why ?

Because they were not his own.

Did they belong to his mother?

Tf they had been hers he would not have been
forbidden to eat them. They belonged to a con-
fectioner, who gave her a few pence for taking
them out of the shell. But that is not all. When
his little fingers became tired, he got cotton to
pick, which he worked at as diligently.

Why ?

Because he felt happy in being able to do some-
thing for his parents in return for their sending
him to school. One day, while busily cracking
his almonds, the thought struck him that he
would like to study. “I will become a teacher,”
28 A LITTLE BOY BETTER THAN MOST BOYS.

be said to himself, and make money, so that my
father and mother may not be obliged to work
when they are old.” He did not tell any one
what he was going to do; but God, who knew
it, blessed him, and helped to do far more than
he expected; and I am certain that now, when
he is better off, he remembers with pleasure the
time when he broke almonds at his father’s fire-
side, and often speaks of it to his children.

Has he children ?

Yes; a little Charles and a little Helen.

I wish they could go with us to Geneva.

Oh, they could not leave their papa and mamma.

But when shall we see them ?

I don’t know, but I hope some time soon; for
I wish the children to love each other as their
fathers do.




CHAPTER V.

THE SIROCCO—THE SIMOOM—THE ARABS.




PARLO !—why is Carlo staying behind ?

The poor dog is very tired. When
we left Orgon he barked with all his
might to get down from the top of the
coach ; and once down, he played about
on the road, leaping over ditches, and trying to
keep up with the horses. You remember how
one moment he would run before them, then come
back and spring up to their heads. I told you he
could not go on long running so much. The groom
has washed his mouth, but he will neither eat nor
drink, He will soon have a rest now. The
steamer we are going by is one of the best on the
Rhone, and if it deserves its name it ought to go
as fast as the wind.

What is it called ?
30 THE SIMOOM.

The Sirocco; but you do not know what that
means.

No.

It is a sea wind; and one day when it was
blowing, we took you to the shore at Montredon.
The waves did not break at our feet as they
usually do, but, blown by the sirocco back into
the sea, they rushed like a great flock of sheep
over a green plain. We saw them dashing against
the rocks of the castle of If, and covering them
with a sheet of foam. The ships on the sea then
dance upon the waves like nut-shells. There is
another wind still more terrible than the sirocco,
called the simoom, which raises the sands of the
desert into waves as the other does the waters of
the sea.

What is a desert?

It is a great barren plain, where nothing but .
sand and sky are to be seen; no mountains, no
towns, no trees. However, there are men who
live in the desert, called Arabs.

What do they do?

They guide the people who are obliged to cross
the desert on their way to other countries. They
take them to shady spots, where they may rest
and have a little water to drink.
THE ARABS. 31

Are they good men ?

Not all of them. Sometimes they rob the poor
travellers of everything they have, leaving them
without a morsel to eat or anything to cover
them.



Some are shepherds. They stop wherever
there is a little grass to be found for their flocks ;
and when they have eaten it all up, they move
their tents and seek pasture for them elsewhere.

But you told us there was nothing but sand.
32 THE ARABS.

Here and there, there are a few trees, with a
little grass growing round a well; but there are
not many of these spots, and people who are
wandering in the desert often look for them for
days before they find one. I have read some-
where of a traveller meeting with some poor
Arabs, who had taken off their clothes and fas-
tened them to a stick, so as to make a little
shade for themselves from the burning heat of the
sun.

And how do you think they manage to cross
the desert? They cannot walk as we do in the
streets of Avignon.

On horses.

No; on camels.

You are both right, children. You have seen
Arabian horses in Marseilles, but you have never
seen a camel but in a picture.

They are not pretty creatures, but they are
very useful. They walk a long distance without
feeling tired ; can do without drinking for a long
time; eat less than a horse, and have more than
double the strength of one. When the Arabs are
in a hurry, they can travel night and day on their
camels,

But why do they not sleep in an inn?
THE ARABS. 33

Oh! they could not find an inn in the sandy
desert.

If they should be fortunate enough to find a
spring under the shade of a few palm-trees, that
is their inn. They unload their camels. The







THE CAMEL.

women busy themselves in unfolding and putting
up the tents, in feeding the camels, and prepar-
ing supper.

And what do the little children do ?

Pleased to find themselves on their feet again,
(381) 3
34 THE ARABS.

they run about, screaming with delight, and play
with the colts and the young camels ; and when
they have had their supper, they all go to sleep.

But if they cannot find either a spring or palm-
trees, they continue their journey till night comes
on, not stopping even to make ready anything to
eat. The women cook on the back of the camels
while they are walking, so that no time is lost.

But does the dinner not tumble down ?

Perhaps you think their dinners are like ours,
and they use turnspits and saucepans for cooking
it. But the food of the Arabs is very simple ;
and when travelling, they are satisfied with a
few cakes.

I am very fond of cakes.

You like them for dessert, or while you are
waiting for dinner; but the Arabs’ cakes are not
sweet, and, except a few dry figs and a little
water, they have nothing else for dinner.

But how can their caraffes of water stand up-
right ?

They have no crystal caraffes like ours; theirs
are leathern bottles, which are fastened on the
back of the camels.

Mamma says the Arabs have neither spoons
nor forks. -
THE ARABS. 35

Mamma is right. Francis, can you tell me how
they manage without them ?

They eat with their fingers.

Yes. And do you know any one who eats
sometimes with his fingers?

Papa, how delightful to be an Arab !

Why, my Lily ?

Because you told us they were so happy.

And are you not delighted, dear children, to
get out of the coach and run along in the sun-
shine ?

Yes, we are!

You see people can be happy without being
Bedouins. I assure you, you are much happier
than they are. Their journeys are not always so
pleasant as ours, for they are often overtaken by
that terrible wind which I have just been telling
you of.

Here, when the cold east wind blows, every
one escapes from it by shutting himself up in his
house. But the poor Arabs have no wooden or
stone houses like ours; their houses, or tents, as
they are called, are only of canvas, And yet they
are very glad to have even these; for, if they
should happen to be overtaken by the wind while
travelling, they have not time to get under cover,
36 THE ARABS.

because the putting up of a tent requires more
time than the building a castle of cards.

Does the wind wait till they get into their
houses ?

Oh! it is not so kind. But there is one of the
Bedouin party who knows when the simoom is
approaching. You cannot guess who that is?

No.

It is that useful animal the camel, of which I
have been telling you.

But how does he know before the wind comes ?

He knows it just as the swallows know when
the cold is coming, and escape from it by flying
to warmer countries; and as the squirrels know
that in a short time there will be no fruit on the
trees, and they must make provision for the
winter.

But who has taught them all that?

The good God.

Oh, how very good he is!

While the party is going merrily on their
journey, suddenly the camels stop. The drivers
may threaten or beat them, but they obstinately
refuse to move a step. They put down their
heads, and, turning their backs to the side from
which the wind is coming, there they stand quite
THE ARABS. 37

still. The Arabs understand then that the simoom
iscoming. They dismount immediately, and each
family hastens to put up their tent, looking out
all the time to see if there are any clouds of sand
in the distance. In the midst of this scene of
confusion the dogs howl pitifully, and the little
children cry with terror.

I do not wish to be a little Arab.

The eyes and ears of the horses are covered
with a hood. Every one gets under the shelter
of his tent, and covers his head with a large shawl,
and lies with his face on the ground.

Woe be to those who are not sheltered now,
for the wind of the desert is passing over the
tents !

And the poor little Arabs ?

They lie without moving, with their faces on
the ground, like their fathers and mothers; but
the air gets so hot that they need to cool their
faces now and then with a little water which
they have put near them; and sometimes even
this water gets as hot as if it had been taken from
a fire.

But if the Arabs were to get on their horses
and gallop off with their children ?

The simoom would make up to them. The
38 THE ARABS.





‘THE STMOOM.

Arab horses go very fast, but the wind of the
desert goes still faster, and very soon both horses
and riders would be overtaken, and die in the
clouds of burning sand.
HE ARABS. 39

Does that wind come here?

Oh no; don’t be afraid.

And the sirocco ?

You need not be afraid of it either. I have
only told you about it, because the steamer which
is to take us up the river is called after it.




CHAPTER VI.

A DANGEROUS LANDING AT AVIGNON.



APA, there is a steamboat now !
: That is not ours yet; we wish to
go up the river, and that one is going
down. See how fast it goes !—it is
out of sight already! Do you know
this place ?

No.

You have been here before. We came here in
a steamboat about a year and a half ago. There
had been a great deal of rain, and the river was
so very large that we were afraid we would not
be able to land. Come here and look over this
wall. You see the water is far below us, but
that day you could have touched it with your
hand.

The steamboat came to this place where we
A DANGEROUS LANDING AT AVIGNON. 41

are standing, to land the passengers; and as the
Rhone was growing larger and larger every mo-
ment, the captain wished to get off again as soon
as possible, because he was afraid he would not
be able to pass under the bridge. The passengers
tried who would be out first ; we kept quiet in a
corner out of the rain. The porters looked like
a band of thieves, seizing hold of the luggage and
running away with it. I kept my eye on our
boxes, in case any of them should be carried off.
Ob, what a shouting and screaming there was!
And in the midst of all this confusion, instead of
troubling your mamma and papa, you sat quiet,
looking about you, and wondering what it all
meant. At last, after the crowd was away, I got
our luggage carried on shore, and we prepared to
land; but this was no easy matter. I told you
a minute ago that the water was nearly as high
as this wall, and the steamer was raised high
above the landing-place. A plank had been laid
with one end on the quay and the other on the
boat ; and it was over this narrow, slippery, dan-
gerous bridge that we had to pass. For the first
half of the way there was a danger of falling into
the river, and for the other half into the mud.
While wondering how we were to get safely
42 A DANGEROUS LANDING AT AVIGNON.

down, we saw a terrible accident happen to an
old man. He was just before us, and had got
nearly to the end of the plank, when his foot
slipped, and he fell back, hurting himself very
much. However, as we were obliged to get
down somehow, I took you, little Lily, in my
arms; and, as I put my foot on the plank, I
asked God to take care of us. Your mamma,
who was behind, watched us as we went along,
and was very frightened till she saw us safely
down. ‘Then I left Lily with her nurse, and
came back for you, my big boy, for you were
still in the steamer; and, after leaving you with
Lily on the quay, I helped your mamma down
too; and when we had all met again, we thanked
God for having watched over us, as we had asked
him to do.

And then?

Then we went into the town, but found so
much water in the streets that we could not go
further.

Where did all the water come from ?

From the Rhone. For some days Avignon
was just like a lake; and when people wished to
go out, they had to take a boat!

Was there water there, where my foot is?
A DANGEROUS LANDING AT AVIGNON. 43

Look up at this large gate. Do you see a
black line ?

Yes.

Well, if you could read, you would see figures
marked there which tell the year that the water
rose as high as that mark. It would have
covered not only your foot, Francis, but your
head, and even that coach; and if you had been
in that house over there, you might have taken
some water out of the window in your little
hand.

How nice that would have been !

The people did not think it very pleasant to
see the water rushing into their houses, or to
have their trees rooted up, and their harvests de-
stroyed.

The Rhone is very naughty.

My dear, the Rhone does not think ; it does
not know what it does. It is God that permits
the waters to carry away houses and fields.

Then God is not good.

Am I not good to you?

Yes, you are our good papa.

And do you know why I sometimes punish
you? why I take away your toys? Because I
wish to make you good. But I Jove you quite
44 A DANGEROUS LANDING AT AVIGNON.

as much when I take them away as when I give
you them. And God, too, take- away his bless-
ings from men, and punishes them, because he
wishes them to be good; he is as kind to them
when he allows the water to carry away their
trees and fruits as he is to-day when he makes
the sun to shine on them, and the soft breath of
spring to blow.




CHAPTER VII.

THE STEAMER.

S#ASING, dong! ding, dong! Do you hear
the steamboat bell? Make haste, it
will be off! The porters have taken
our luggage on board; we have no-
thing to look after but ourselves. Take

care in crossing the narrow plank! Ah, here



we are at last

Puff, puff, puff, puff! What a dreadful noise !
Is there anything the matter?

Don’t be afraid, my dears ; it is only the steam.
Don’t you see it rushing out of that long tube by
the side of the funnel?

What a high chimney, and what black smoke !
The sky will be all black.

Oh no, my little man; the sky is so large, so
very large, that all the smoke in the world would
46 THE STEAMER.

not take away its beautiful blue colour. It is
just as if you were to pour my ink-bottle into
the sea, Francis ; the beautiful water would be as
green and clear as ever.

Ah, the paddles are beginning to move, and
make the water boil. How the houses are run-
ning away! All the people who were looking at
us are far away down there already. Can houses
run? Have they legs?

No, dear, no more than the towers of Avignon
palace. They are fixed in the ground, and keep
in one place.

But we do not see them any more.

That is because the steamer has carried us a
long way on while we have been talking.

Has it legs ?

No, but it has wheels, which turn round in the
water, and make it go.

What makes the wheels turn in the water ?

Steam; the same steam which made so much
noise when we were setting off. Do you not
remember that last winter I often put a small
kettle on my fire, and when the water in it
began to boil, the lid began to dance, to your
great amusement? Well, it was the steam from
the water which raised the lid. The wheels of
THE STEAMER. a

the boat are a great deal heavier than the lid of
my kettle, and they need a great deal more steam
to make them move.

And where is the water boiled? I don’t see
any kettle.

It is not boiled in a kettle, dear—there is not
one large enough; but in the middle of the boat
there is something which does as well as a kettle.
It is a large boiler. The water is boiled in it,
and it sends out plenty of steam to make the
steamer go.

But then there must be a fire.

Come to the funnel, and you will feel how
hot it is. But you must give me your hand;
it is not safe for little children to walk here
alone.

Why ?

Because you might fall into the water. Do
you not see these large openings at the side of
the deck, where you might fall out? Or you
might burn yourselves on the funnel; or you
might be—but, oh, may God mercifully preserve
you from that!—you might be caught by these
great machines which move their iron arms with
such a dreadful noise.

And then could papa not take us out?
48 THE STEAMER.

Ah no, my darlings; but I cannot think of
such a thing. Come away to the other side.

What is the use of these machines ?

They make the wheels turn round.

But there are none of them in the diligence.

No, but there are horses; and in a steamboat
these machines are instead of horses. Come
away to the other end of the deck; we shall
have a beautiful view, and shall see all the places
we are to stop at before we come to them, and
the large bell which rings to let passengers know
when the steamer is going away. Sit down
here

I am very sleepy.

You must be tired after travelling all night in
a diligence. We shall go down to the saloon to
rest, but we must go to the other end of the
deck to get to it. Take care not to fall going
down this steep stair.

This saloon is like our drawing-room at home,
only the ceiling is lower, and there are little iron
pillars to hold it up. Then, instead of two large
windows hung with curtains, we have here three
small ones on each side with blinds. There are
several tables, too, for the use of the passengers.
But you are very sleepy.
THE STEAMER. 49

Where are our beds ¢

There they are—these stuffed seats all round
the saloon. It is not a very soft bed; but after
Thave made it all ready for you, you will sleep
very well on it. See, I have covered the
cushions with clean sheets; and here are shawls
and cloaks to cover you, and I will put one of
these tables in front to keep you from rolling
over.

Now, are you not as comfortable as if you
were in your own little bed at home?

Yes, yes; and little Harry ?

Oh, no fear of him; I have laid him between
two cushions, and Iam sure he thinks he is in
his own little crib. But Iam afraid the noise
of the machinery may disturb him, dear little
fellow !



(381) 4


CHAPTER VIII.

THE SAND-BANK.




o#°T is morning! Lily is awake, and Francis
too.

Tam very glad, for it is such a beauti-
ful day, it is a pity not to be on deck
enjoying it. Come, and we shall have
a walk up-stairs ; it is too warm here.

What are these men doing putting long poles
into the river ?

They are measuring how deep it is, and each
time they take the poles out of the water they
tell the captain how many feet deep the water is.
Do you not see there is a boat yonder, with a
large cask on board, that seems to have run
aground ?

But why do they wish to know how deep the
water is?
THE SAND-BANK. 51

Because the captain is afraid there will not be
enough water for the steamer to sail in, and he
wishes to choose the deepest place.



And if there is not enough, what will happen ?
The steamer will run aground, and we shall be
stopped in the middle of the Rhone, not able
either to go up or down, which will not be very
pleasant. I was once stopped in this way before.

And you too, mamma?

Yes, I too, several years ago; but instead of
travelling with papa and you, my dears, I was
with your grandmamma and your aunt.

And why were you not with us?

Tt was before you were born, my little darlings.
I shall tell you what happened. We were on
board one of the ‘ Eagle” Company's steamers,
52 THE SAND-BANK.

like that which has just passed us. I suppose it
is because that Company’s steamers sail so fast
that they have been called after the king of birds.
At anyrate, we were very comfortable on board.
The first night it was beautiful moonlight, and we
walked on deck till it was very late. The second
night the sailors put down poles like these into
the water every little while, just as they are
doing now. They did everything they could to
keep the steamer from touching the bottom, but
about ten o’clock it struck, and suddenly stopped.
The sailors on deck shouted to each other at the
top of their voices, and now and then’ we heard
the captain’s voice above them all; Ob, what a
noise there was! It sounded to us down below
as if the sailors were playing themselves, rolling
all the casks and boxes backwards and forwards.
We were going to ask what it was, when the
stewardess ran in in a great hurry, saying, “I
beg pardon, but something has been forgotten.”
And she opened the door of a little room, looked
in, and went away again, ‘‘ What has been for-
gotten?” mamma asked. “Oh, nothing, nothing
at all.’ We wondered very much, and wanted to
know what it was, and we fancied all manner of
things, and the same noise began again on the deck.
THE SAND-BANK, 53

But what was it, mamma ?

I didn’t know at first, my dear, but I very
soon found out. A second knock came to the
door, and this time it was the captain with one
of the sailors. “Excuse me,” he said. “I am
sorry to disturb you, but there is something here
I wish to see.” They went into the little room
with a lantern, and saw that the little, round
window had been forced open, and the water was
coming in. The captain looked very grave; and
he and the sailor closed the window, and fastened
it up with a close shutter, to keep the water from
coming in. The stewardess stayed behind in the
saloon, and we begged her to tell us if anything
more had happened, “ Don’t be afraid,” she said,
“there is nothing to fear; only the boat has run
aground. It has struck on a gravel bank, and
the sailors have been putting all the heavy things
at the stern.”

“And what has the captain been doing in that
little room?” “He has been looking to see if the
water was coming in at the window, which it did,
because the sea was stormy, and the boat had
been heavily loaded. But keep quiet,” said the
stewardess, “there is nothing to be afraid of;”
and then she went away.
54 THE SAND-BANK.

Were you afraid, mamma ?

Oh no, my darling, because I knew that God
would take care of us, and not allow anything to
happen which was not to be for our good.

About half an hour afterwards we noticed
swater under the door of the little room, and it in-
creased till there was quite a stream running down
the cabin floor. Thinking we ought to tell the
captain, I threw on my cloak and rushed on deck.
There was no one to be seen; but after calling
several times, one of the sailors came to me, and
he gave my message to the captain. He went
down-stairs, and when he saw the water rushing
into the saloon he advised us to go on deck, and
then he set immediately to work to fasten the
window more firmly than had been done before.

As for us, we three sat down near the funnel,
and watched everything the sailors did to get the
boat off.

And what did they do?

Nearly all the sailors gotdown on the gravel bank,
and at a given signal they all pulled the ropes
which had been fastened to the boat for the pur-
pose of dragging it back; and those on deck
pushed with all their might against the long poles
which had been put down into the bed of the
THE SAND-BANK. 55

river, to help our Eagle to fly again. Several
times, when the captain thought it was moving
off, he ordered the paddles to be set in motion;
but all was in vain. The men pulled and pushed,
the wheel turned round and round, but the boat
stuck fast on the bank. It reminded me of those
poor unfortunate butterflies which we often see
fastened down by a pin run through the middle
of their bodies, actively moving their wings with-
out being able to fly away.

And what did you do, mamma ?

T could do nothing but notice what was going
on around me. Your grandmamma, your aunt,
and I, would very gladly have helped too; but
what could we have done? We thought the best
thing we could do was to sit quiet in our little
corner and wait patiently, without troubling the
sailors with our questions, or coming in their way
by walking up and down on the deck.

Is that the end of your story, mamma ?

No. I think you would not like to leave us
in the middle of the Rhone. I have not very
much more to tell you, but still I am sure you
would like to hear it, About one o’clock in the
morning, after a great deal of difficulty and hard
work, our sailors, with great delight, saw the boat
56 THE SAND-BANK.

move. Soon it was going at full speed, and when,
a short time afterwards, it stopped at its resting-
place for the night, we all went to bed, and I
need hardly say that every one on board slept
soundly.




CHAPTER IX.

THE LETTER—TIE PASSAGE OF THE BRIDGE OF
ST. ESPRIT—THE PILOT.
ee AVE you slept well, children ?

* Is my breakfast ready ?

Yes, my boy, but wait till you are
quite awake. Do you know where
we are?

In a room.

What room ?

In a room in the steamboat.

Shall we soon be at Geneva?

Yes, Lily. Half of the journey is already
over.

Is the boat going just now ?

To be sure it is; do you not hear the noise of
the paddles? It set off very early this morning,
indeed, before the sun had risen.


58 THE LETTER.

Were you out of bed, papa, when it started ?

Yes, and mamma too; and we had a little walk
while you were sleeping.

Where did you go?

Not very far away ; we did not go out of the
boat. The sailors were making ready to sail, but
it was so very dark that they passed before us
like ghosts ; and we with our cloaks drawn round
us must have looked like two ghosts standing still.

And then, what did you do?

After a little we came down stairs-again, but
as I did not feel sleepy, I wrote a letter to my”
sister.

Is she our sister too?

No. She is your aunt and your good friend.

Is she our kind friend ?

Yes, my dears. Was she not very happy when
she was with you, and were you not delighted to
stay with her?

Yes.

Well, those whom we love and who love us
are our friends. Who is your best friend ?

It is you.

It is mamma.

We are your good friends ; but there is a much
better one than us. It is He who has said, “Suffer
THE LETTER. 59

little children to come unto me,” and who laid his
hand upon their heads and blessed them. It is
the Lord Jesus.
And what, are you doing with that paper?
Tam w
Have you been writing a pretty story for us?
It is the letter I have written to your aunt.
Would you like me to read it to you ?
Yes !—yes !



ting.

“On board the ‘Sirocco,’ 4 o'clock morning.
“Dean Sisrer,—I am sure you must often be thinking of us
and the little children, and wondering what they are doing, and
where they are. Well, I will tell you. In answer to the first
question, What they are doing. They are just now fast asleep.
From the place where I am sitting I can sce them all three,
making up for the time they lost last night in the diligence.”



Do you know these little children I have just
been speaking about ?

Yes. It is Lily, and Francis, and little Harry.

Yes. You are right.

“Till now they have not been at all troublesome, and have
been quite contented, though they were obliged to do without the
little comforts which cannot be had on a journey.”

Oh, what a pretty vineyard lies on the hill
yonder !

Yes; and I can just see the heads of some of
the peasant women gathering the grapes.
60 THE LEGTER.



THE VINEYARD.
But listen, children.

“Francis is always lively. He notices everything,—vines,
sheep, the smoke which smokes, as he says; he admires them
all, Lily is only amused for a minute or two. She never loses
sight of the end of our journcy, and is always asking if we shall
soon be at Geneva.


THE LETTER. 61

“ Harry—with his prattle, and smiles, and screams of delight—
wives a holiday air to our journey. He is a little bird which tells
us that spring is coming.”

Where is the little bird, papa ?

There le is, fast asleep. It is your little
brother.

Why do you call him a bird? Birds have
wings, and little Harry has none.

He is not like the birds that fly in the air, but
I have called him a bird, because he is so good,
and tries to sing like them.

T shall go on with my letter :—

“We find spring everywhere on our journcy. It is in these
flowery meadows, in these warm sunbeams which come down
irom a cloudless sky, in these fresh green leaves which seem to
grow while we are looking at them, in the song of that nightin-
gale which I hear while I am writing. ‘A nightingale!’ you
will perhaps say. ‘I wonder that little voice is not terrified.
drowned by the noise of the wheels, the rushing of the waves, the

cries of the sailors. Are you not in asteamboat?’ Yes; but the
steamer has been at anchor since one o'clock in the morning.”













You do not know what I mean when I say
the boat is at anchor. A boat ora ship is at
anchor when it is fastened firmly by its anchor,
so that it cannot move from the same place. Can
we say that Francis is at anchor? No. Why?
Because he is never still fora moment. Come, my
boy, be quiet for a very little, till I finish the letter.
62 HE PASSAGE OF THE BRIDGE OF ST, ESPRIT.

“T have just been up-stairs for a moment to find out where we
are. I cannot tell you very exactly our position, but we are lying
in a most beautiful bend of the river. ‘The two banks, which are
very close to each other, are covered with rich green grass and
trees, as far as one can see by the light of thestars. ‘Towards the
east we can just see the dim outline of the hills rising one above
the other into high, gloomy mountains, behind which the dawn
of the 25th of April is beginning to appear. On the opposite side,
as far as the eye can reach, there are dark and light spots to be
seen. ‘The dark spots are the land, and the light ones are the
Rhone, which is hidden by the land, aud comes into view again a
little further on, But—"




That is not a pretty story.

It is too long.

Very well; I shall not trouble you with any
more of it.

Bring the children’s breakfast. They like
stories, but I think just now their breakfast would
please them better. The air of the Rhone seems
to give them an appetite. Make haste, for I wish
to show you a bridge. It is the largest one on
the Rhone, but the arches are so very narrow that
the steamers sometimes can scarcely pass through
them, especially when they are going up, as ours
is doing, because the current rushing through the
narrow arch is very rapid.

We have done breakfast.

Well, come up-stairs and you shall see the
bridge.
THE PASSAGE OF THE BRIDGE OF ST. ESPRIT. 63

Oh, what a large bridge! I see carts passing
over it, and little boys standing looking at us.

These are not little boys, but men as big as
papa. They only appear to be little because you
are a long way from them. There is a man
climbing up the side of the boat.

Where does he come from? From the town
of Pont St. Esprit.

What is he going to do?

To guide the boat. He is a pilot.

Why does he call out so?

Because just now he has charge of the boat,
and if he did not speak very loud the men would
not hear what he says, for in this narrow passage
the Rhone makes a terrible noise. See how the
people are running up and down on deck! I
should like to show you the bridge a little nearer,
but I am afraid we should be in the way of the
sailors. Let us keep quiet in this corner. See,
there are several sailors dragging a rope this way.

What are they going to do?

One end of that rope is fastened to a post fixed
on the bridge ; and see, they are going to tie the
other end of it to the side of the boat.

Why ?

When a gentleman comes off his horse to go
64 THE PILOT.

into a house for a few minutes, does he not fasten
the reins to a tree or to a ring fixed in the wall?

Yes.

Do you know why he does so?

To keep the horse from running away.

Well, the boat is kept from being carried away
by the current by that rope which is fastened to
a strong post on the bridge. Now the engines
are going again; the wheels are turning round.
We are off once more. We have passed the dan-
gerous part. The bridge was before us a few
minutes ago, and now there it is behind us.

The pilot is going to leave us now.

How will he get out of the boat?

The same way that he came in. You will see
in a little. The captain pays him—that is only
right ; he has had a great deal of trouble. For
nearly an hour he has been giving orders to the
men ; now to the men who have charge of tie
engines, and now to the sailors or to the men on
the bridge. His eye was everywhere, and he is
so very strong that he did as much as two of the
other men. There he is going away. Look at
him. He is going out of that opening in the side
of the boat.

Ts he going to throw himself into the water?
THE PILOT. 65

Oh no, not at all, Do you see a little boat at
the side of our large boat? It looks so very tiny
that one might think a breath of wind would
upset it. There is the pilot in it already. He
unfastens it; the current carries it away. It
glides and bounds over the waves like one of your
little paper-boats.

Will the pilot come back again?

He will come back to-morrow, and every day,
to guide the other boats which are going up the
river, but we shall not see him, as we are going
to Geneva.




CHAPTER X.
THE INUNDATION.

shall very soon lose sight of the bridge.

Look at it once more; it is worth the

trouble. From where we are stand-

ing we can sec the full length of it,
j although some of the arches are half

hidden behind tufts of grass.

Papa, there is not water under all the



arches ?

No, my dear; the Rhone runs only under the
arches which are near the town, but sotnetimes it
flows over that side where you see nothing but
gravel just now. We might say that it likes to
change its bed.

Has it a bed to rest on ?

Not like the one you slept on last night,—the
water is never tired, it does not need to rest or
THE INUNDATION. 67

sleep. The bed of a river is the ground over
which it usually flows.

I told you that the Rhone often changes its
bed, but it does not do so for the same reasons
that we change ours. When we leave a place, it
is to get what we think a better one. A minute
ago Lily was seated on that coil of ropes, but it
appears she was not very comfortable, as she has
taken a seat on her mamma's lap instead. But
a river changes its bed because it is obliged to
do so.

How is it obliged ?

I shall explain it to you. The torrents which
rush down to the Rhone carry with them stones
and sand, which fall to the bottom, and as the
bottom of the river fills up by degrees, the water
spreads itself over the lowest parts. It happens
sometimes that the Rhone covers all the gravel
which you see, and passes under all the arches of
the bridge.

Oh, have you ever seen that?

I have seen it, but a long time ago.

Were you in a steamboat ?

It was before there were any steamboats. 1
was a little boy at the time.

Like me?
68 THE INUNDATION.

Oh, older and bigger than you! I was spend-
ing a few weeks in the town of Pont St. Esprit.
I liked very much to walk by the side of the
river, and one day I found myself with one of my
companions on the dike. Do you know what a
dike is?

No.

I know.

Well, let us hear, my boy.

It is a—a—a—dike.

I thought you did not know. A dike is a very
thick wall which is built by the sides of rivers,
to keep the water from running into the fields.
Well, from the top of this wall we were looking
down to see the fish at the bottom of the river.
All at once the beautiful clear water got muddy.
It rose higher and higher, till it came near us.
We could not understand it. There had been
clouds in the sky, but there was no rain, Where
could such a sudden rush of water come from ?
As we saw that it was still rising, we were afraid,
and began to run, that we might get the sooner
home. And it was well we did so. We had
hardly got in when the rain began to pour out of
a great black cloud which hung over the town.
It seemed as if a whole Rhone were falling from
THE INUNDATION. 69

the sky. Happily, the rain did not last long;
the north wind chased the cloud away, and the
sky was again blue, I went out. The Rhone
was still rising higher. It already covered the
dike, and was spreading itself over the fields. It
was said that a village had been destroyed, and
that oxen and sheep, and even a baby’s cradle,
had been seen floating down the river.

Was there a little baby in it?

I am not very sure. Every one ran to the
bridge, and I was not the last to go. But a great
many people came back after they had walked a
few steps on it.

Why?

Because it shook under our feet, just as our
own house in Marseilles did when a cart passed
in the street. It was said, too, that the bridge
at Ardeche had been washed away, and that the
one you see there would soon be in pieces. As I
was not afraid, I stood on the bridge, and bent
my head over the parapet,—which is the name
given to the walls of a bridge, which are built to
keep people from falling into the water. Have
you ever scen in the harbour at Marscilles little
boys climbing up to the tops of the masts on
ladders made of rope ?
70 THE INUNDATION.

Yes; I remember we saw one who was so high
up that he looked like a little child.

There are ladders of wood quite as long on the
bridge of St. Esprit; and sailors who are in a
hurry to get down to the river, or to get up from
it, take that way of getting up and down. It
was on these same ladders, shaken by the waves,
that I saw men go down that day till they were
quite close to the water. Each of them had in
his hand a long pole with a hook and a sharp
point at the end, and they kept watching for the
pieces of wood and other things which were float-
ing down with the current. When anything
came within reach, they took hold of it with their
hook, and dragged it to them; but sometimes it
was so large and heavy that they could scarcely
pull it out, and more than once I have seen these
strong boatman totter, and nearly fall, with the
things they were trying to catch. The islands
you see there, and these beautiful green trees,
were buried under the water. All round there
was nothing to be seen but a great yellow sea,
with trees and planks of wood, pieces of furniture,
and all manner of things floating on its surface.
It was, I assure you, a very sad sight.

Why?
THE INUNDATION. 7

Because everything which the Rhone carried
away was so much lost to some poor person.

We should give them something.

They do not need anything now; but at that
time those who had lost nothing thought like you,
Lily, that they should help those who had. They
helped them to rebuild their houses; gave them
com to sow their fields; and after a few years,
one could not tell where the inundation had been ;
but the people who saw all that they had carried
away by the water often think of that time. And
it is well that they should do so.






CHAPTER XI.

THE SPEAKING-TRUMPE : —RECOLLECTIONS—THE FAIR.



LY, Francis, come on deck !

Did you call us, papa?
> Yes.
What a very Joud voice you have!
As I was on deck, and you were below
in the saloon, I came to the top of the stairs and
spoke to you through this tube.

Do it again.

Lily and Francis, come up-stairs. I wish to
show you a country which I love, because it is
my native country. Do you hear?

Oh yes. Again!

That is enough for the present. You don’t
know what this tube is called. It is like a
trumpet. It is called a speaking-trumpet, be-
cause we can speak through it as loud as the
~

CHE SPEAKING-TRUMPET.

blowing of a trumpet. Come here, Lily. Put
your mouth to it, and call your brother.

Francis !

Now, Francis, it is your turn. Call your sister.

Lily |

You have spoken very loud.

Tapa, will you buy me a speaking-trumpet ?

T shall take good care not to do that. You
make enough of noise with your voice as it is.

But perhaps you think it is only a toy, put
there to amuse children ?

Yes.

Ob no, my dears, It is of great use in this
boat. You have seen the captain speak from
one end of the deck to some of the men at the
other end of it, and you could hear him quite
well, because it was calm weather; but some-
times the wind blows with great fury, and the
waves make a dreadful noise, and if the captain
at such a time should have an order to give,
would not his voice be drowned by the louder
voices of the wind and the waves?

What does he do then ?

He speaks through this trumpet, and every
one hears him.

What did you wish to show us?
74 RECOLLECTIONS.

A pretty town; but we cannot see it yet.

You see that white road where the carriages
are driving, and where the clouds of dust are
flying? When I was a little boy I often walked
on that road, climbed that hill which you see on
‘the other side of it, and paid many a. visit to the



Bea

THE OLD TOWER,

ruins of that old tower. I could tell the names
of all the villages on the Rhone, and of the vil-
RECOLLECTIONS. 75

lages in the valleys too, When I was young, I
heard them so often spoken of, that now, when I
hear the name of any of them, it sounds to me
like the name of a friend. But you cannot
understand how it is that I feel both glad and
sorry when I see this part of the country again.
I wonder where all the friends are who once ran
about these woods and hills with me! In a
little village at the foot of that hill to which I
am pointing, there lives one of those children,
who, like you, used to be always laughing and
jumping about; but she is now lying in bed
very ill, and I fear she may never get better.
And my mother, who would have loved you so
much if she had known you—my good mother,
who was always watching over me—where is she?

You told us she was in heaven.

Yes, my darlings; and she has now no more
pain or sorrow—she is at rest. Your little
cousin, too, who is now lying ill, will soon go
and join my mother in the rest which is pre-
pared by the Lord Jesus for his people. I hope
that we too may go to heaven some day. But
while we are here, let us try to have a heavenly
spirit ; let us love God, and let us be like him—
kind to every one.
76 RECOLLECTIONS.

We are coming near the town which I wish
you to see. Look what crowds of people are on
the road }

Where is the road ?

Quite near us. That bill looks as if it would
fall down on our boat, it hangs over the river so
much. One would think that a goat could not
find room between the water and the hill for its
little foot; and yet, see! there is a good road
there, I assure you.

Ah, there are sheep passing !

Yes, there is a large flock of sheep.

Are the shepherds taking them to some place
where they will have fresh grass?

No, my dear. I see the farmers have their
best coats on. They are going to the town to
sell their sheep. See! there is a little boy stand-
ing looking at us. He does not notice that his
father and his mother have gone on with the
sheep. Now, he does, and begins to run to make
up to them. Poor little boy, he has tumbled ;
but he has not hurt himself, for there he is up
again. He has rubbed the dust off his clothes,
and is beginning to run again. I am sure he is
very happy to go to the town.

There is another flock! and now, look, there
RECOLLECTIONS. 7
are pigs! See! two of them have one of their
feet tied to a string, which the woman who is
leading them holds in her hand. Why are their
feet tied? It will hurt them.

Oh no; they must be tied, to keep them from
running away. There is one which would have
fallen into the water if it had not been kept back
by the rope round its foot. These two men on
mules, who look so proud as they trot along, have
frightened the poor pigs. And see, here are more
people, and cattle too,

Where are they ?



In the ferry-boat. They are coming across the
Rhone. They are quite near. The boatmen are
pulling with all their might, and the current is
helping them. There they are. There are men,
and women, and oxen, and a cart. Look at the
78 THE FAIR.

apparently awkward shape of the boat. It is the
best, however, for safety, though not for speed.
This is not the same shape; it is longer and
higher. But boats of this kind could not stand
the sea; the slightest wind would upset them.

That one is going to be upset. Oh, the people
will be drowned! they will be drowned!

No, no, my dears. The boat bas only got into
the waves which the paddles of our boat have made.
Now it has got past the waves. It is quite safe.

Do you know where all these people are going ?

They are going to the fair.

What is a fair?

It is a place where a great many people sell
and buy. They sell sheep, oxen, mules ; indeed,
all sorts of things—cloth for dresses, leather for
shoes, books, toys, sugar-plums. Children often
wish to go to fairs, but their parents, who know
better than they do, will not allow it; for there
is often a great deal at fairs that children should
not see or hear, Wherever a great many people
are gathered together, there are always some wicked
people among them ; and it is much better for chil-
dren to keep away from hearing wicked words or
seeing wrong things. Ifthey were to be accustomed
to such things, they might soon learn to do them,




CHAPTER XII.

A FISHER OF TO-DAY AND A FISHER LONG AGO.



HERE is a man in a little boat! is he
going to the fair too?

No, my dear; do you not see that the
boat is always in the same place? It is
fastened to the shore. That man is
a fisherman.

Is he catching fish ?

Yes. Watch him for a little; he has a long
pole in his hand, with a net fastened to the end
of it; there, he has put it into the water—now
he draws it up, but there are no fish in the net.
He puts it down again; let us see if he will be
more fortunate this time. No; the net is empty.
Down once more; nothing yet. Poor fisherman!
he is wearying himself for no use, Perhaps he
has been here since the morning, out in the burn-
80. A FISHER OF TO-DAY AND A FISHER LONG AGO.

ing sun. I see he has not got even one littl:
fish in his boat. Any other person would have
lost patience, and given it up long ago; but he
waits on in hope. He has tried it for the fourth
time, and it seems with no better success, for he



FISHING.

has put the net into the water again. We can-
not see him any longer. Good-bye, fisherman ;
we wish you may catch some before you go home,
as a reward for all the trouble you have taken ;
but whether you do or not, remember that God
is with you, and put your trust in him.

Is God with that fisherman ?

Yes, my darling.

Is he with us too?

Oh yes, he is.

I do not see him.

He sees you.

But how can I know that he sees me?

Well, listen, and I will tell you a little story.
A FISHER OF TO-DAY AND A FISHER LONG aGo. 81

Several fishermen were sitting together one even-
ing, and one of them said, “I go a fishing.” He
rose up. His friends rose at the same time, and
they all set off together. They got into their
boat, and worked hard all night, but caught
nothing.

Do people fish in the night ?

Yes, dear.

But they cannot see well!

It is all the better. If the fishes could see,
they would not come near the nets, nor let them-

. selves be caught in them so easily. The story

which I am telling you happened two thousand
years ago. Well, the fishermen at Marseilles do
just as the fishermen of Galilee did; they go out
to fish at night, and come back in the morning.

These poor men, as I told you, had been out
the whole night, but had not caught one single
fish, Morning came, but, patient like the fisher
we have just seen, they were still at work, hoping
always that the next throw of the net would
bring them something. Suddenly a man ap-
peared at the side of the water.

What did he do?

He turned to them and said, “ Children, have
you any fish?” They said, “No,” Although

(381) 6
82 A FISHER OF TO-DAY AND A FISHER LONG AGO.

they had been out all night, they had not one
fish, not even the smallest thing. This man said
to them, “Cast the net on the right side of the
boat, and you will find some.” They put it
down, and it was soon so heavy with the number
of fishes in it, that they could not pull it up
again.

Do you know who this man was?

No.

One of the fishers guessed, and said, “ It is the
Lord.” Another fisherman, called Peter, on hear-
ing that, threw himself into the sea, that he might
get the sooner to his Lord.

And then, what happened ?

Those who remained in the boat came to the
shore, dragging the net filled with fishes. So,
before they saw the Lord Jesus, he saw them.
He saw them when they were in the house, when
they were on their way to fish, and when they
were in the boat. Every time they cast their
net into the sea and drew it up empty, the Lord
saw them. Like you, my dear, they thought
they were alone ; but the eye of their Master was
on them. I am quite sure that they never for-
got that night; and afterwards, when they were
ill, or poor, or in prison, do you think they were
A FISHER OF TO-DAY AND A FISHER LONG aco, 83







LOOKING AT THE TOWN
sad and without any hope? No; they said,
“The Lord is with us, as he was that night we
were out fishing. We do not see him, but he
sees us.” And they had no fear.
84 A FISHER OF TO-DAY AND A FISHER LONG AGO.

Ah, there at last is the town which I wished
you to see. There is the landing-place ; the bell
is ringing. What crowds of people are running
to see the boat arrive!

Are these people your friends?

Oh no; I have not so many. Not one of them
knows me, and I don’t know any of them. My
friends did not know we were to pass this morn-
ing, or they might have come to see us.

Shall we go to see them ?

The boat would go away without us. It only
stops a few minutes, to take in or land passengers.
There are people coming to sell things, but they
take care not to come to our end of the boat.

Why ?

Because they are afraid the boat might carry
them away. I was sailing down the Rhone some
years ago, and the boat stopped a few minutes
just as it has done now, A woman selling
cherries came on board, and while she was bar-
gaining with a gentleman who wished to buy all
she had in her basket, the paddles began to move.
The poor woman rushed to the side of the boat
where she had come in; it was too late. She
began to weep; she begged the captain to stop
the boat and let her out; it was all in vain.
A FISHER OF TO-DAY AND A FISHER LONG AGo. 85

Some of the passengers thought he had played her
a very clever trick, and laughed at the poor woman,

It was very wicked of them to do so, because
the woman was very poor. She lost half a day ;
and besides, she had left several little children at
home, who needed their mothe? to give them
their dinner and take them to school.

Well, do you know what we did? The pas-
sengers who were sorry for the poor woman
gathered a little money for her, and .put it into
her hand as she went out of the boat, to help her
to get back to Valence.

Was she pleased ?

Oh, very much so!

We only a few minutes ago stopped ; and see!
we are going off again already. Look what a
crowd of people are selling and buying: The
people who are bringing things to sell are stand-
ing on shore, and the people who wish to buy are
standing at the side of the boat. They are throw-
ing the money and the things for sale into the
air, backwards and forwards, at the risk of every-
thing falling into the Rhone! The boat is moving.
There is a man leaning forward to catch a bunch
of radishes which some one is holding out to him.
They have in vain stretched out their arms from
86 A FISHER OF TO-DAY AND A FISHER LONG AGO.

each side, their hands cannot reach each other ;
there is a gap between them. Now the passenger
will have his radishes; the woman has thrown
them into the boat, and he has thrown some cop-
pers to her on the quay. The quay seems to go
away with all the people on it, and the town will
soon be out of sight. Good-bye, Valence! Now,
children, come to dinner.






CHAPTER XIII

‘THE BARGES—THE MEETING OF THE RHONE AND THE
ISERE.



SVAPA, there are horses in a barge.

They are going down the river, and
we are going up.

They do not move at all.

No, they are ranged in a line, and
keep their places like soldiers under arms.

There is one putting down his head. He is
drinking some of the water of the Rhone.

The water reaches to his very mouth; it
touches the deck of the barge; it looks as if it
would go into it. But that would be a sad
thing. There is a little in it, which has got in
through the joints in the wood; and do you see
what the bargeman is doing? He is busy lifting
the water in a kind of bowl, and pouring it out
88 THE BARGES.

as fast as he can. And do you know why the
captain has made the engine be stopped while we
are passing ?

No.

Because the waves made by the paddles of our
boat might have rushed into the barge, and made
it sink.

I should like to see the horses again.

Perhaps we shall see some more as we go on.

Where are they going?

To Beaucaire.

What are they going to do there?

You shall know by-and-by.

Lily, mamma is calling you ; she wishes to show
you something at the other side of the boat. I
shall stay here with Francis ; he is looking out for
a barge, so if you should see one, you will tell us.

O papa, how dirty the water is !

No, papa, it is not dirty.

It is muddy, like that we had at dinner.

It is quite clear.

Mamma, is that water not muddy ?

Yes, Lily, it is.

Papa, is that water not clear?

Yes, my little man.

Francis, mamma says that it is muddy.


THE MEETING OF THE RHONE AND THE ISERE. 89

Lily, papa says that it is clear.

It is muddy.

It is clear.

That is not true.

It is true.

Children, I wish you to change places. Francis,
you will go to your mamma; Lily, come beside
me. Look!

It is clear just now!

And you, Francis, how do you see it?

That water is muddy.

Lily, give me your hand; we shall go and sit
down beside mamma and Francis. But what is
the meaning of this? The water is clear on one
side, and muddy on the other! As the boat goes
on, its beautiful colour comes back. We only
see a few whitish spots like little clouds in a
clear blue sky, and even these, you sec, are all
away now.

But you don’t understand it, do you?

Well, do you see that river to the right, rolling
its muddy waves? it looks as if it were coming to
us. That is the Isere; it has mixed its waters
with the blue waters of the Rhone, and made
them muddy.

But when Lily went beside her mamma, the
90 THE BARGES.

waters of the two rivers were not yet mixed
together; there was muddy water on Lily’s side,
and clear water on Francis’ side; the meeting of
the waters was under our boat. The children,
then, were both right. But they were wrong in
saying to each other that they were not telling
the truth. They must remember that things
seem very unlike when they are looked at from
different places.

Papa, I see one, two, three steamboats.

Are you speaking of these barges near the
shore? These are not steamboats.

But I have seen smoke.

That may be; the men must have a fire to
cook their dinners. These barges don’t go so
fast as our boat; they seem as if they were
standing still; we must look at them a long time
before we can see that they are going at all. Do
you know what drives them on?

No.

Have they paddles ?

No; there are no paddles,

Or sails ?

No.

Or rowers ?

No; there are no rowers. They go quite alone.
THE BARGES. 91

Ob no; if they were alone, they would not go
up the river, they would go down. Do you not
remember that this morning, when our boat
stopped for a few minutes, we threw a cork into
the water? Did it go up the river against the
running water ?

No; it floated away down towards Marseilles.

Oh yes; I vemember you said to it,—‘A
pleasant voyage, cork.”

And an instant afterwards we lost sight of it ;
did we not? But if we had fastened a piece of
cord to the cork, and given it to Lily to hold in
her hand, would it have sailed away down to
Marseilles ?

No; I would have pulled it, and it would
have come to Geneva with me.

Well, what we did for the cork, others have
done for these barges.

But I do not see the cord.

It is not a piece of cord, but a rope, or rather
several ropes joined together, which is called a
cable.

And who pulls it—a man?

No; a man would not be strong enough.
Look over there.

I see horses; what a great many! I shall
92 THE BARGES.

count them. One, two, three, four, five—there
ave nineteen. They have been resting a few
minutes. Now they are off again. Some are
on the horse-path, and the others are walking
in the water,

They will be drowned.

Oh no; they are good swimmers, and they
always keep close to the bank.

How hard they are pulling!



HORSES DRAWING TH



Do you hear the cries of the men who are
driving them on?

The horses pull the cable, and make the water
splash round it as it is stretched tight. And
now, could you guess the use of these horses
which have just passed us going down the Rhone
in a barge?
THE BARGES. 93

I don’t know.

They are going to Beaucaire, to drag boats
like those you see just now to Lyons. So these
horses ave never away from the Rhone; when
they have gone up the river, they go down, just
to go up again. Would you like to be in one of
those barges? You would find it very pleasant ;
there is no noise; and they move on so smoothly
that you can scarcely feel that they are moving
at all. And then in the barge mamma would
have time to draw these mills, and bridges, and
trees, and castles for you, of which you would
like so much to have a picture, but which our
boat is now passing by so quickly.

But then the passage would be a little longer,
and I know you think it long enough as it is, for
you are always asking if we have not come to
Geneva yet.

How long would it be if we were dragged by
these horses ?

They have been on the way twenty-two days
already, and it will be eight more before they
reach Lyons; so it is much better for us to stay
where we are, for to-morrow, if it is God’s will,
we shall be at the end of our journey.


CHAPTER XIV.

THE RAFTS.



GP OW fast we are going! The barges and
9 the horses are far away from us already.
We are going further and further into
this long, narrow valley. That hill
looks as if it would stop us altogether.
Shall we have to get out of the boat and climb it,
to get to the other side?

No. The Rhone makes a bend, which leads
us into another valley. These low walls which
wind round the hills, like a winding stair, are
made to keep the earth upon the rocks from
being washed away by the rain. The hills are
bare just now, but a month after this they will
be covered all over with a beautiful green; for
vines are grown there. We shall soon pass
under the first iron bridge on the Rhone. In
THE RAFTS. 95

the meantime, I wish you to see a boat not like
any you have ever seen before.

Where is it ?

There it is, passing by us on that side.

It is not a boat, it is a floor.

Yes ; it is very like a floor.

Tell me, children, if we were upon one bank
of the Rhone at the foot of these large trees,
and Geneva were upon the opposite side, how
could we get to it?

I would ask grandmamma to come for us.

But she would neither see nor hear you.

We should cross the river by a bridge.

Oh, that would be easy enough; but if there
were no bridge, nor barge, nor steamboat, how
could we reach it? I could swim across, and so
could Carlo; but you cannot swim, and I should
not like to leave you.

I would make a steamboat.

You could not do that, my boy. Where
would you get these large pieces of wood which
you would need ; and if you had them, how could
you carry them away? And the boilers and the
engines, they are not to be found all ready made.
You would need to go a long way and dig deep
in the earth before you could get iron, and per-
96 THE RAFTS.

haps you would not find any at all; but even if
you had it, would you be able to cut it, or beat it
out, or round it, or drill it? You would not be
able to make even the smallest nail.

And you, Lily, how would you get across the
river ?

I would make a little boat.

You are more modest than your brother, but
your plan would not succeed any better, even
although I were to help you. To make the
smallest boat you would need to have a car-
penter’s tools, —hatchets, saws, nails, planes, &c. ;
and even if you had all these, would you be able
to make any use of them?

I might perhaps be able to cut down a tree,
and, after a great deal of time and trouble, saw
it into logs; but would that be enough ?

Certainly not. You would need to put these
logs together, bend other large pieces of wood,
and make both sides the very same, so that the
boat would not lean more to one side than the
other.

It would not be easy to do that ; and, besides,
it would take too much time. As for me, I
would not think of building either a steamboat
or a barge. Do you know what I would do?
THE RAFTS. 97

I would cut down a few poplar or willow trees ;
you would help your mother to break off the
branches, and I would make use of them asa
rope to tie the trunks together; and there would
be my boat.

Simple boats like these are called rafts. And
in one thing they are better than any other
kind of ships—they cannot founder; which means
that they cannot go to the bottom.

T should like you to make me a little raft.

But in some things they are not so good as
other boats; and I must tell you what they are.
It is more difficult to steer them than it is to
steer a common boat; one needs a great deal of
skill to guide them over some parts of the Rhone ;
but the worst thing about them is, that these
logs, if they do not go to the bottom, very easily
come separate. Sometimes a knock against one

- of the arches of a bridge is enough to break the
ropes which tie the logs of a raft together, and
loosen them one from the other.

What happens then ?

The goods which happen to be on the raft fall
into the water and are lost; and the men are in
great danger of being drowned if they are not
very quick in catching hold of one of the logs,

‘381) 7
98 THE RAFTS.

and keeping afloat in this manner till help come
to them.

Shall we see any more rafts ?

I don’t think we shall; they are not used so
much now, because it has been found that they
are the cause of a great many accidents. One of
the most dangerous places in the river was the
bridge of St. Esprit. I have seen more than one
raft dashed to pieces against it. I shall tell you
about, it some other time.




CHAPTER XV.

THE BRIDGE AND THE FERRY-BOAT.





APA, is that the bridge which you wished
to show us?

Yes, my dear,
fe It is not very pretty.
ep No. We have seen some much
prettier ones. At Avignon, Bourg, Saint-Andéal,
Valence, the bridges are much more elegant, but
they are not more useful.

Why do people make bridges? That they
may pass over the river, is it not?

Yes,

Well, when a bridge is strong enough and
broad enough to allow people and carriages or
carts to pass easily, it is all that is wanted. That
bridge was very much wanted. You see these
two little towns—the one to the right is Tain,
100 THE BRIDGE AND THE FERRY-BOAT.

that to the left is Tournon; they are built
exactly opposite each other. Before the bridge
was made, the people who lived in these towns,
which you see are very near each other, could not
cross every time they might wish todoso, They
could see one another, and even bow to one
another, from the opposite sides; but there was
always the Rhone between them to prevent them
shaking hands.

It is true they could cross the river in a boat,
but that was not so convenient, and could not be
done at all hours of the day and night. Now,
this bridge is just like a street. Tain and Tour-
non are now joined, and are like parts of the
same town. You can imagine it was a happy
sight for them to see the work going on—the
bridge rising out of the water and growing by
degrees. And the day the bridge was finished
was kept as a holiday by them. At that time
this suspension bridge was thought to be very
beautiful, because, as I told you, it was the first
iron bridge on the Rhone. It was talked of in
all the towns and villages, and many people came
a long way to see it.

But our boat, which stopped a few minutes to
take in coals, is going off again. Take care; stay
THE BRIDGE AND THE FERRY-BOAT. 101

beside me. The funnel will be lowered im-
mediately, to let the boat pass under the bridge.
See, there is the funnel slowly coming down.
What a large mouth, and what a quantity of
smoke! It is as if we were in acloud. Now,
they are raising it; but it will be down again in
a minute.

Why ?

Because we have to pass under another
bridge.

I do not see it.

That is because you think it is a bridge like
that one you have just passed. You are looking
for arches, for iron chains; but there is nothing
of the kind. It is a rope bridge.

Could a cart pass over it ?

No.

Or a horse ?

No.

Could Francis stand on it?

Yes, papa.

I don’t think you could; however, we shall
try whether you could do it or not. Here is a
thick rope with which the sailors keep hold of
the helm—let us fasten it to that pin in the side
of the boat ; I shall hold the other end of it, and
102 THE BRIDGE AND THE FERRY-BOAT.

pull it with all my might, so that it may be well
stretched. There it is. Now, Francis, my boy,
get up on this rope; it is not very high—you
can put your foot on it with a very little trouble.
You have still one foot on the deck, and you are
shaking; you keep hold of me!

I cannot do it.

Mamma, put this little boy on the rope, take
his hand and make him walk to the end of it.
He must find out, by trying it, that it is more
difficult to walk on a rope than he thought it was.

You see, my boy, that in two steps you have
slipped four or five times, although you had hold
of us on each side. What would it be, then,
if you were to try to walk alone on that high
and long rope bridge? You would immediately
fall into the water.

But perhaps you don’t know why this thick
rope is put across the Rhone? I will tell you.

When there is no bridge over a river, how do
people get across ?

They take a boat.

Yes. You are thinking of these two pretty
little towns which we have left behind us. When
there was no bridge and no rope, those who
wished to go to the other side got into a boat.
THE BRIDGE AND THE FERRY-BOAT. 103

But what happened? The boat which set off
from Tain was carried away by the current, and
when it reached the other side it was a long way
below Tournon. Then, to prevent that, do you
know what was done? There was a high pole
fixed on each side of the Rhone, and a rope
fastened to each, well stretched, and that was the
bridge. That was not all; but you will under-
stand better what more I have to tell you when
you see another of these bridges. I think we
shall very soon see one.

Yes, I am right. The rope is still too far
away for you to see it, but do you not see
something over there where my finger is point-
ing to?

I see a boat.

It is standing still, is it not? Can you tell me
why it does not come down to us?

I don’t know.

Do you not see that it is kept back by a rope?
And that rope, what is it fastened to?

To a tree ?

No.

To a stone?

No. It is fastened to that rope bridge which
crosses the Rhone.
104 THE BRIDGE AND THE FERRY-BOAT.

Papa, there is a horse and a cart in that boat.

There is a workman, too, with a sack on his
back, and two women sitting in the bottom of
the boat. These people wish to get to the other
side of the river.

They are not moving.

Because the boatman is waiting till our boat
has passed; he would not like our boat to run
against his. See, he is beginning to row now;
just as the boat glides over the water the rope
slips along the bridge; the rope and the ferry-
boat go on at the same time.

What is a ferry-boat ?

That is the name given to boats which carry
people from one side of the river to the other,
like the one you saw some time ago.

And if the rope bridge should break ?

Then the ferry-boat would be carried away by
the current, And it would be very troublesome
to get it back again. When we were coming
back from Geneva, about a year and a half ago,
we saw an accident of that kind; it happened a
little below where we are now.

Where are we just now ?

We have just passed two little villages,—Ser-
riere and Sablons,—opposite each other on the
THE BRIDGE AND THE FERRY-BOAT. 105

river. Do you not remember I pointed out to
you that all the houses are new? Four years
ago the Rhone carried them away, and they have
been built again, quite as near the water as they
were before.

As I told you before, the rain had been pour-
ing down for several days, and the Rhone rose
very high. We were going faster than we are
doing just now, because we were going down.
Suddenly one of the men called out, “There is a
boat at the bridge!” but the rope was not high
enough for our boat to pass under it, and it was
not low enough to let it pass over it; it blocked
up the way. The sailors began to ery out with
all their might, “Ahoy! ahoy!” But no one ap-
peared on the shore, and we were going very fast.
Then the passengers got frightened; they thought
the rope was going to upset the boat, or sweep
away everything on deck ; they threw themselves
down on their faces. But what happened ?

Did the rope stop the boat ?

No. It was not strong enough to do that.
The boat dragged the rope, and in a moment the
high posts at each end of it were torn up and
thrown down, and the bridge was gone !

Is there not one now ?
106 THE BRIDGE AND THE FERRY-BOAT.

Oh, it was soon put up again, I think. But,
although that accident did not do much harm,
we were very sorry for it ; for the captain told us
that the bridge belonged to a poor man, who was
obliged to pay for putting it up again, when he
had scarcely enough money to buy bread for his
family.




CHAPTER XVI
THE MOUNTAINS.

NOTHER night is passed! You are
wearying, I fear, my darlings; but
here are plenty of things to amuse
you. There are your painted bricks.
You may build palaces, churches, and
castles ; and when you are tired play-

ing with them, you can go and look out at the

cabin windows, where you will see beautiful fields,
and trees, and houses as we sail along. Each of
you may take a window at opposite sides of the
boat, and then you can tell each other what you
see as we pass. Sometimes it will be grassy
banks with tall poplars growing on them,—mills
with wheels turning round,—little bridges cross-



ing the streams which are rushing away down to
the Rhone,—or boats filled with horses or goods.
108 THE MOUNTAINS.

And when you are tired of looking out of the
window in the saloon, you may go and walk on
deck, and every few minutes you will see some-
thing new and beautiful. Have you counted all
the bridges at which the funnel has had to be
let down, so that our boat might pass under
them ?

Yes, papa.

How many have we passed ?

Three.

Three! that is not many. But I rather think
that you cannot count more than three, my little
Francis. Do you remember all the towns we
have seen on the side of the water,—Avignon,
St. Esprit, Bourg, St. Andéal, Valence, Tournon,
St. Vallin? And these hills covered with vines,
and these corn-fields, and these meadows, looking
at a distance like carpets of all colours? And
these castles in ruins, and these old towers,
standing like sentinels on the tops of the hills?
Ts not all that very beautiful? But you would
like to be at Geneva, and I am sure you will be
very glad when we can say to you, “There it is.”
Can you see it from here?

No. There is a screen of hills between us
and it.
THE MOUNTAINS. 109

The hills are not a screen,

No, my dear; but they get that name because
they hide what is behind them just as a curtain
or a screen does.

We must draw this curtain.

It is not so easy to draw it as a window cur-
tain. A little child can open a window curtain,
but no one can open or move a screen of hills
but God, who made them and put them there.

And why does he not take away this curtain ?

Because there is no need for doing so.

But we wish to pass, and these hills are in our
way.

Oh, don’t trouble yourself, we shall find a way.
We must first go up, and then down the other
side, and after we have gone up and down the
hills a good many times, we shall be at Geneva,
if it please God.

I do not like these naughty mountains that
hinder us from seeing far.

Yet they are very beautiful, are they not?
They are so high, they look as if they were
touching the sky; their tops are covered with
snow. But, besides, they are very useful. Do
you know that if there were no mountains there
would be no steamboats like this one.
110 THE MOUNTAINS.



THE MOUNTAINS,

Why?

What is this deck made of on which we are
walking ?

Of wood.

A great deal of wood and many large trees are
needed to make a boat like this; and where do
the tall fir-trees grow which mamma has so often
told you about? Do you know?

No. Where is it ?
THE MOUNTAINS. ill

They grow on high places, high up on the
mountain’s sides. If there were no mountains
there would be no fir-trees, and if there were no
fir-trees there would be no steamboats like this.

Then we should go in a coach.

But coaches, too, are made of wood, and very
often of fir. There would then be neither coaches
nor boats.

I should take a horse.

Very good, my boy; but to ride on a horse
you would need to learn to keep yourself on it.
And even after you were a good rider, it would
not be easy to travel in that way. Such a little
boy as you are would soon get tired of being
shaken on the horse’s back. Your arm and your
hand would be weary with holding the bridle ;
and when you got to the inn where you were to
rest for the night, you would very likely be more
tired than your horse.

But I have something more to tell you. To
ride on horseback you must first have a horse ;
must you not? Well, perhaps you might not
have one.

Why?

Do you know what horses are fed on?

On hay.
112 THE MOUNTAINS.

And who makes the hay grow ?

The good God.

Yes. It is he who gives the sun and the rain
to make it spring. But the rain which falls from
the clouds is not enough; the meadows are
watered in another way.

Oh yes, by the rivers.

And the rivers, where do they come from.
You don’t know; they come from the mountains:
so, if there were no mountains, there would be no
rivers; and if there were no rivers, there would
be very little hay; and if there were little hay,
there would be few horses. You see now how
useful mountains are.

Now I love them very much.

Well, you will see a great many by-and-by,
for we shall soon be in a country of mountains.

Are we not in a country of mountains now ?

No, my dears; we only left Condrieux this
morning.

What is Condrieux ?

It is a little town. I thought you knew it. I
forgot that you were asleep when the boat started
this morning, but last night it stopped in front of
the white houses of that village.

When we arrived there, a number of people
THE MOUNTAINS. 113

were waiting for us on the shore, and the plank
had scarcely been put down from the boat on the
quay, when the deck was covered with little
children. The sailors took them by the hand
and went on shore with them. And what do
you think I did? I shall tell you after dinner.



(ss1) 8


CHAPTER XVII.

THE FARM-HOUSE.



APA, you promised to tell us something,

Oh, it was about a visit to a farm
near the little town of Condrieux.
Your little brother wished for a little
milk, and I went out to try and get
some for him. I did not know where to go, but
when I got into one of the streets, I saw a woman
standing at the corner of it calling to her little
girl, who was singing, and laughing, and dancing
with her young companions. Her mother called
more than once,—Louise ! come here, my child.

Did the little girl come?

No. Perhaps she did not hear her mother
call to her, for she did not come. But then I
thought, since this woman is a mother, she must
love all little children, and perhaps she will be
THE FARM-HOUSE. 115

kind enough to tell me where I can buy milk for
Lily, and Francis, and Harry. And I was not





THE WOMAN OF CoNDRIEUX

mistaken ; for she even offered to go with me to
a farm where milk was sold, although it was out
116 THE FARM-HOUSE,

of the village, and I was a stranger to her. She
was very kind and good, and we must try to be
like her; for God tells us in the Bible that we
must be kind to every one, even if they are
strangers to us, The road to the farm was
along a pretty footpath through the fields; the
moon was shining bright, and we had a plea-
sant walk,

Were the stars shining too?

Yes, the stars were beautiful. After crossing
a little wooden bridge, and walking down an
avenue of trees, whose branches met at the top
and looked like a green roof over the road, we
came to a large gate. The kind woman who was
with me opened the gate, and we went into a
court. A dog, hearing the gate open, came run-
ning to meet us, barking very loud.

Did he bite you?

Oh no; he looked very good-natured ; and I
thought his master must be good-natured too.

Why?

Because they had chosen a watch-dog which
would not hurt any one. We went up a long
flight of stairs, which led to the kitchen. It was
clean and tidy; the table was laid for supper ;
the mother had just taken the soup off the fire,
THE FARM-HOUSE. W7

for it was smoking in the plates. The woman
who was with me asked if they had any milk to
sell, We have very little, answered a young girl,
as she placed chairs for us to sit down; but you
shall have all that we can give you. She went
for a basin of milk, and, filling two large mea-
sures with the milk, poured it into a bottle; in
doing so, she let some drops fall on the table,
and her mother, to make up for what had been
spilt, took more milk out of the basin and put it
into the bottle.

How much do I owe you? I said to the far-
mer’s wife.

One penny.

Only a penny, and the bottle is quite full! It
seems that milk is very plentiful here, and very
scarce some miles further down the river.

Why so? said the farmer’s wife.

Because the landlord of the hotel made us pay
much more than that.

How much did he ask you to pay for a bottle
of milk ?

Eighteenpence.

But surely the bottle he gave was larger than
this one, sir, said the farmer's wife. I know
there are people who charge strangers four or five
118 THE FARM-HOUSE.

times the price they ought to pay, but we always
ask the same price. May God keep us from cheating.

I am glad to hear you speak in that way, I
said to her. You will not lose by trying to
please God. He makes them prosper who love
him. He will bless your honest labours and give
you good crops. May peace rest on your house.

The farmer at that moment came in; he had

, heard my last words, Thank you, sir, he said ;
and he shook my hand so warmly that, if it had
been your little hand instead of mine, you would
have screamed out.

Did he hurt you?

He did not hurt me, but he pressed my hand
very hard. Then I said good-bye to these good
people, and came back to the village with the
kind woman who had been my guide.

What is a guide?

It is a person who shows you the way when
you do not know it yourself. As we went back
to the village, I asked my guide about her family.
She told me that her husband and her eldest
son were employed on the steamboats on the
Saone. The Saone is a river which joins the
Rhone below Lyons.--My second son works in
one of the “Eagle” Company’s boats, and my
‘THE FARM-HOUSE. 119

youngest son is at college. He wishes to be a
clergyman.

My good woman, I said to her, since your son
wishes to spend his life in telling men about the
great love of God, I hope his own heart may be
filled with love both to God and man, so that he may
be a good servant of Christ. I thanked her once
more, when I said good-bye, and we went on our
different ways—she to her house and I to the boat.

And did you see little Louise ?

What little Louise ?

The little girl that her mother called.

Ah, I had forgotten her. We did not see her
again on the shore. It was dark, and she must
have gone home.

Tell us another story, mamma.

I will, at another time.

But we wish to hear it now.

You are just like baby: you would like to
have your story just as he must have his food—
immediately ; but as you are older than he is,
you must learn to be patient, and wait till
mamma pleases to tell you. She is going to
write letters now.

Oh yes. Will she write a letter for us?

Oh yes. She will.




CHAPTER XVIII.

A LETTER TO A FRIEND.



Y DEAR FRIEND,—The children wish me
to write to you, and I am very glad
to do so to please them, besides the
pleasure it gives me to talk a little
with you. J am delighted that their
little hearts are grateful to you for
loving them and being kind to them in so many
ways.

When I write next I shall send you the journal
of our travels, as I promised; but in the mean-
time you will be glad to hear that till now we
have been most fortunate,—not a single unpleasant
thing has happened to us. The weather has
been beautiful; the children have been good; we
are sitting in the saloon of the boat as comfort-
able as it is possible to be in travelling. In
A LETTER TO A FRIEND. 121

short, everything has gone on well, and we thank
God for it; for we know that it is to him we
owe it all, and that he watches over us and our
children like a tender Father.

The dear children have been wondering at
many things they have seen since we set out.
Everything is new to them, and we have enough
to do to answer all their questions. They are
delighted with the many bridges over the Rhone.
I asked Francis yesterday, what was the use of
bridges? He answered, That the boats may
pass under them! We smiled; and seeing he
was wrong, he corrected himself, and said, No,
no; it is to let people and carriages pass over
them. Every town we pass Lily asks, Is that
Geneva? She has been very much surprised to
see snow on the distant mountains; and she very
often looks at them, because I told her that there
were white mountains at Geneva too. The moun-
tain of Veutoux has attracted her attention very
much, It is true that at every step we have had
a new view to admire; but this mountain for a
great part of the way has crowned all the scenes
which have been spread out before us; it was
always to be seen in the distance, like a faithful
friend, not wishing to go away from us. It is


122 A LETTER TO A FRIEND.

like an immense sugar-loaf, and so reminds me of
the Mole at Geneva; it is half covered with snow,
and is now fading away in the distance, till it
almost looks like a white cloud.

I am writing very early in the morning, my
dear friend, hoping to post this letter at Vienne,
where we are to stop for a few minutes, Last
night we slept at Condrieux. Several hours
before we got there, there was a great bustle on
deck, We did not know why the men were all
running about dressed in their best clothes. At
last the boat stopped at Condrieux, and we found
out why they were all in such a bustle, when we
were told that that little town was the native
place of almost all the sailors on the Rhone, It
was pleasant to look at their happy faces as they
saw their wives and children coming to meet
them, and in a few minutes there was not one of
them to be seen on deck. Some time afterwards,
in the evening, when the children had gone to
bed and were fast asleep, my husband proposed
that we should go on shore to buy a few trifles
we wanted ; amongst others, this paper on which
Cam writing to you. We enjoyed our walk very
much. The weather was beautiful; we went
through several streets, where we met with most
A LETTER TO A FRIEND. 123

civil and obliging people. At length we returned
to the shore, to be near the place where our
little darlings were sleeping. Everything was
quiet; we sat down for a little; the saloon was
well lighted, and the windows shone like eyes on
the black sides of the boat. But we would not
have thought of looking at these little windows,
unless we had known that our dear ones were
there; for the moon and stars were shining so
brightly that they made every other light seem
dull.

Oh, how we enjoyed that bright, beautiful
evening! We thought of the goodness of God,
who had made that glorious sky ; we spoke of the
friends we had left, and of those we hoped soon
to meet ; time passed quickly on, and it was get-
ting late. Carlo leaped round about us, as if he
wished us to go back to our home in the boat.

But I hear Harry moving—he has just awoke.
The little darling will be hungry, for he has been
sleeping a long time. He is stretching out his
tiny arms to me already. I must finish this, my
dear friend, with kindest love from all.

Mw




CHAPTER XIX.

VIENNE—CHARCOAL—COALS.






F you wish to see Vienne, you must make
haste ; the boat is to stop for two hours,
YRS to land some goods. Are you ready to
go on shore ?

2 Yes, yes.

Give me your hand, then, and we shall go up-
stairs. Do you see these men going up and
down? These are porters.

Are they not cold with so few clothes on.

No, dear; they would be cold if they were to
sit still, or if they walked as slowly as we do;
but look at that one going down into the hold by
that ladder.

What is he going to do?

Come here, and we shall see. He has got
down. Another porter puts a load on his back,
VIENNE. 125

and now he is coming up again by another ladder;
he goes out of the boat by that plank which
rests on the quay; he lays down his burden and
comes back running for another. See! he is
wiping the drops of perspiration off his face with
his sleeve. He is very warm.

If you were cold, would you go and sit down
in a corner, and stay there without moving? No,
because you would get still colder. You would
begin to run like this porter, and rub your hands,
and the cold would go away.

And now, look up; what do you see?

A wall.

We are too near this wall,—it hides the town
from us. Perhaps you think it is a very small
town, since a wall like that keeps you from seeing
anything. Put your little hand over your eyes ;
now, look at me—do you see me, Lily?

No.

And do you see me, Francis?

No.

Is your hand bigger than papa ?

No.

And yet it hinders you from seeing him.
Why? Because it is quite close to your eyes.
Take it away, and hold it as far away from your
126 VIENNE.

eyes as you can. ‘There now, keep it there be-
tween your eyes and me. You see me now,
don’t you?

Yes. :

Why? Because your hand is away from your
eyes. Very well, as soon as we go away from
the wall we shall see the town appear by degrees,
The work of unloading is done now. See! the
plank has been taken away which allowed the
men to get on shore with their burdens,

Does not the wall look as if it were getting
smaller, and the houses as if they were growing
larger ?

Yes, yes; I see a church.

It is a very beautiful church. Your mamma
and I went to see it while you were at breakfast.

Were there many people in that church ?

Yes. There were a number of masons busy
repairing it. It is a very long time since it was
built, and if it were not repaired it would soon
fall to ruins.

There were some people, too, kneeling at
prayers. Was the good God in the church to
hear the prayers of these people?

He is with all who pray to him anywhere. If
a little boy or girl should pray to him in a boat,
12%



VIENNE.

a sick person in bed, a shepherd on the hill-side,
or a learned man in his study, he is with them
all. You know that he is everywhere, but there
is one place above all others where he loves to be.

Is it a church ?

He is in the church, because he has said that
wherever two or three are met together to wor-
ship him he is there. But I was speaking of
another place. Do you know it?

No.

It is your heart and mine. It is God’s will
that men should build churches where they can
meet and pray together to him; but he is more
pleased when men and little children give him a
place in their hearts.

Could the good God come into my heart?

Not in the way that Lily means, but perhaps
in some other way. When you are far away
from me, you have a place in my heart;—that
means, that I think of you, speak about you, and
love you, and try to please you.

If Lily thinks sometimes that God is very good
to her, because he has given her a papa and
mamma, brothers who love her, clothes and food,
and all she needs; and that he has prepared for her
a bright home in the heavens, where he will take
128 CHARCOAL.

her to live, for the sake of what our Lord Jesus
has done for her;—if Francis, when he is going
to do something naughty, stops and does not do
it for fear of displeasing God, and because he
loves God so much that he tries very much to
please him ;—then Lily and Francis give him a
place in their hearts.

Where are we now ?

I don’t know; but I think I see the railway
between St. Etienne and Lyons. We must be
near Givors. I know it by the gray colour of
the houses.

Why are they gray ?

Because they are covered with fine coal-dust.
There is a great deal of coal in this part of the
country.

I don’t see any.

You are thinking of the charcoal that you saw
among the Var hills. That was burned wood,
which is called charcoal, and it is used for fires
where coal is scarce. Charcoal is made by men,
who cut down the trees, and burn the wood till
it becomes black, and fit for fuel. Coals also
were once growing trees, but they have been
thrown down and prepared for burning, not by
the hands of man, but by the power of God, who,
COALS. 129

in his great goodness, has provided great stores of
them below the ground, that we may have good
fires to keep us warm. Coal is found ready for
burning ; but as it is buried deep down in the
earth, men have to dig very deep pits before they
can find it.

There are two barges loaded with it.

Why?

It is going away to parts of the country where
there is none to be had—to Valence, Avignon,
and even Marseilles. As a coal fire lasts longer,
and is much warmer than one of wood, it is used
in smiths’ shops, and foundries, and in steam-
boats.

I once went down to the bottom of a coal-pit,
where the miners were taking coal out of the
mine.

What is a mine?

It is a bed under ground from which coals are
dug, or in which iron, copper, silver, or gold are
found mixed with earth or stones.



(381)


CHAPTER XX.

THE SHIPWRECK—LYONS.



OW quickly we are getting on! Should
you like to know where we are, and
how far we have still to go?

We shall ask this sailor who is

5 pacing up and down the deck.—Will
you be kind enough to tell us the name of the
village we have just passed ?

It is Givors.

Does the railway not pass near here ?

Yes, sir; and we can go in a very short time
to Lyons. Two years ago I was sailing up
the Rhone in a steamer just as we are doing
to-day ; our boat was to stop several hours at
Givors to put out goods, and being in a hurry,
I took the railway, and in half an hour I
was in Lyons. This is the second time I
‘THE SHIPWRECK. 131

have come this way, and I hope it may be the
last.

I thought you were employed in this boat.

No, sir; I come from Messina. I was mate
on board a brig which carried sugar to Venice.

You are then a sailor? I had guessed that
you were; your step was so steady, that I said
when I saw you, That sailor looks as if he were
keeping watch. But why have you left your
brig ?

We were shipwrecked in the Straits of Messina.

And how did that happen ?

It was on the 7th of February; the south wind
had driven us in towards the shore; it changed
in the night to the north, and drove us out to
sea; then it changed again to the south, and our
brig, with its sails torn into ribbons, bounded and
whirled on the waves like a spinning top. Sud-
denly we felt a terrible shock; the boat was on
a sand-bank, and had six feet of water in the
hold.

Did you not make use of the pumps?

For two hours we did, but it was of no use,
the water was coming in everywhere. As wave
after wave dashed against the sides of our ship,
we thought it would have gone to pieces. Oh,
132 THE SHIPWRECK.

what a night it was! and so dark. When the
morning broke, the brig was lying on its side;
and as there was no hope of getting her afloat
again, we hastened to save the casks of sugar
which were not damaged. We were afraid that
the masts would fall down and kill some of us,
but they stood firm.

For seven weeks we worked without stopping,
to save the cargo and the rigging. The brig
might still have been above water, if it had not
been for a frightful storm on the 31st of March.
The north wind turned it round, and instead of



THE SHIPWKECK,

the waves dashing against its side as before,
they broke over the deck, beating on it like
THE SHIPWRECK. 133

a drum, and after a few hours it went to
pieces,

That was a most unfortunate accident; but
man has no control over the winds and waves,
and as you did everything in your power, you
have nothing for which to blame yourself. There
are few who can say that, when they look back
on the past.

It is a sad thing, however, sir, to be obliged to
go back alone, after having sailed in a splendid ship.

Where are you going now?

To Havre, to get a place on board another
vessel,

Well, a pleasant voyage to you; and may He
who has preserved you from the fury of the
waves go with you always, and guide you to the
desired haven.—

Come, dears, the sailor is going to walk up and
down the deck again. We shall go back to
mamma, and tell her that story.

What story, papa?

The one which the sailor has just told us.

What did he say ?

You have not been listening, then! Now, I
remember, you were looking at his sunburnt face
all the time he was speaking.
134 LYONS.

Papa, I know what he said: he told us that
there was sugar in a ship, and that he played on
a drum, I shall tell the story to mamma.

He told us something more.

What was it ?

That the ship was a brig—that means that it
had two masts—and that it was driven on shore
by the south wind,

On the shore ?

The shore is the earth and rocks round the edge
of the sea.

Fortunately the north wind began to blow, and
sent the brig out to sea again.

Do you not remember one of your favourite
games? One of you goes to each end of the
room, and rolls a ball backwards and _for-
wards.

Well, the north and south winds seem as if they
had played like Lily and Francis, driving the poor
ship backwards and forwards, just as if it were a
ball. —

Lyons! Lyons!

Yes; that is Lyons now. I shall tell you the
sailor’s story another time. I wish to show you
the town.

Where is it?
LYONS. 135

Do you not see that white-looking smoke, and
the houses appearing in the midst of it?

I see a very high tower, too.

That tower stands on a hill. The town is much
Jarger than it seems from here. Your little feet
could not walk from one end of it to the other.

Avignon lies on the side of the Rhone, Geneva
on the shore of a lake, and Lyons between two
rivers, which join just where we are now.

A bridge! A bridge!

It is a very strong one; the railway passes
over it. Ah! we shall pass under it, for our
boat is going to that side. Say good-bye to the
Rhone; we are leaving it now, and going into
the Saone.

That beautiful Rhone, shall we never see it
again ?

Oh, we shall see it on the road between Lyons
and Geneva.

The Saone is not such a rapid river; it flows on
more peacefully, because it does not come from
such a great height as the Rhone.

Papa, what very large trees!

These are chestnut-trees, my dear. How
pleasant and cool it would be to sit under their
shade in a hot day, and to look at the river and
136 LYONS.

the houses through the branches; These houses
are very high.



Some of these people look at us as they pass,
others walk on without paying any attention; in
LYONS. 137

large towns people must work hard, and they have
no time to idle on the way.

There is a man sitting on that bench looking
at us.

Oh, he has given over working ; he has worked
enough !

Do you know him?

Do you not see that he is leaning on a stick,
and his hair has got quite white ?

He is an old man.

He is taking a rest, and thinking, perhaps, of
the long journey which he will very soon have to
take.

Is he going on a long journey ?

Yes, my dears.

And where is it to ?

To give an account to God for everything he
has done. Do you know what Imean? Perhaps
not. I will tell you. When I go away and leave
you at home, I say to you, “Be good, and tell me
when I come back what you have been doing.”
Well, God said to that man when he sent him into
the world, “Love me; do what I tell you; be
kind to every one. In a few years I will come
and take you away, and ask you what you have
been doing.”
138 LYONS.

What has.this old man been doing?

We don’t know. Perhaps he is afraid to meet
God and tell him what he has done, and is asking
God to forgive him. That is just what we should
do, too, my dears.

Will God forgive us?

Yes,

But if we have been very wicked ?

If the most wicked man asks God to forgive
his sins for Christ’s sake, God will pardon him,
and make him good.

And if people are very good ?

They still need to be pardoned in the same way,
for there is no one in the world who has not
sinned. One of the best men that ever lived said
in his prayer to God, “Enter not into judgment
with me; for in thy sight shall no man living be
justified.”

Papa, there is a horse galloping !

It has got behind the trees which are planted
on the quay, and we cannot see it.

There are soldiers drilling !

There are carriages driving along !

The boat has stopped.

Why ?

Because we have come to Lyons.
LYONS. 139

May we get out soon?

You must have patience, and amuse yourselves
by looking out at the cabin windows for an hour
yet. You shall see me pass on the quay.

Are you going away ?

Tam going to take places in the diligence for
Geneva. I should like to take you with me, but
you could not walk so far. I shall come back
very soon and take you to the large coach.

We shall weary till you come back.

Well, you may go and say good-bye to the
captain, who has been so kind to you; but you
must not take up his time much, for I see he is
busy with his books. And then you can ask
mamma to give you something to do.

T shall put my toys in the box.

And I shall put my doll in its cradle.

Very well.






CHAPTER XXI.

THE JOURNEY FROM LYONS—THE LAKE OF NANTUA—THE
FIR BRANCHES,



* APA, I am so tired.

I am sure you are, my darling.
You have been four nights out of your
own little bed. And last night you

# ‘| hardly slept at all.

Last night, on leaving Lyons, we
saw heavy clouds in the sky, and we said, “We
shall have rain now, and the air will be a little
cooler.” But not a single drop of rain fell; and the
air was very close and stifling. You were very
restless in your sleep; now and then you lifted your
weary little head, and then let it fall again on my
knee, You wanted fresh air, and I had none to
give you. The windows of the diligence were
opened, but dust instead of air came in. See! I
THE JOURNEY FROM LYONS. 141

am covered all over with it. Beat the sleeve of
my coat. That will do; do you not see what a
cloud of dust ?



THE DILIGENCE.

Francis is waking up. I don’t think be knows
where he is. Perhaps he thinks we have been
on board the steamer all night.

Francis, where are you?

Here.

In the boat ?

No; ina coach.

The little man has heard the noise of the
horses’ bells, and the rumbling of the wheels, and
then he sees that we are all crowded in here,
wheré we have just room for our feet, and no
room to run about as in the steamer.
142 THE LAKE OF NANTUA.

Where are we just now ?

Look! Among the mountains. How that
cool morning air refreshes our sunburnt faces, It
looks as if a great deal of rain had fallen here,
for there is no dust, and we see on the road a
great many little hollows made by the water.

O papa! what a beautiful lake! Is it the
Lake of Geneva?

No; it is the Lake of Nantua.

How very green and calm the water is!

Why is it green ?

Because the banks and hills which are reflected
in it are green. Do you see that little footpath
running along the side of the lake? Now, we
lose sight of it; now, we see it again, and at last
it is lost among the trees. Would it not be very
pleasant to follow it through all its little windings?
But the diligence goes on and carries us with it.

Oh, what beautiful mountains! They are not
like the ones at Marseilles, which are only rocks
without a blade of grass on them.

What trees are these, which I have often told
you about?

Which ones ?

These dark green ones, which look like nine-
pins planted on the mountain.
THE FIR BRANCHES. 143

Are these nine-pins ?

From a distance they look very small, and I
daresay you think you could clear two or three of
them at a leap; but if you saw one of them near,
you would find that it is very high, and that you
would need to look up very much to see the top
of it. Some of them are higher than the column
in the square at Marseilles. It would be only a
great giant who could play with nine-pins like these!

Are these fir-trees ?

Yes, my dear Francis, these are fir-trees.

Papa, will you give us one of them to plant in
the little garden which grandmamma has made
for us?

O my boy! you have forgotten what I told
you, that these fir-trees are higher than houses.
But, to please you, I shall cut a branch off the
first of these useful and beautiful trees that we
come to.

Will you go up the mountain to get it?

Oh, not so far; we shall find little ones grow-
ing by the roadside as we go on.

But I must get out of the coach; we have
come to a steep part of the road, and I see several
of the passengers have got down, to make it easier
for the horses to go up the hill.
144 THE FIR BRANCHES.





FIR-TREES.

Are you going to get our branch ?

Yes, Lily.

Will you bring me one too ?

Oh, to be sure! You shall each have one.

‘Papa, papa, we are leaving you behind!

Don’t be afraid, dear, I shall soon make up to
the coach again.
THE FIR BRANCHES. 145

Papa has gone a little way up the hill; he has
stopped near a tree. There he is coming down
again; he is running as fast as he can to us. Oh,
how delightful! he has a branch in each hand.

There, children; there is a present from a beau-
tiful fir-tree to you.

Did the tree tell you to give it to us?

Trees cannot speak; but if that fir-tree could
speak, I am sure it would tell me a pretty story
for my little children.

And what story would it be?

Its own story.

Oh, do tell us it!

Well, when we get to the top of this hill, 1
shall come and sit beside you, and make the fir-
tree speak. Will that do?

Yes, that will be charming! Are we near the
top of the hill yet?

Not quite yet.

These are very pretty branches which you have
given us.

Do you see that the leaves are in rows like
the teeth of a comb?

Oh yes; but these teeth are not firm.

They bend more easily than the feather of a
pen.

(ssi) 10
146 ‘THE FIR BRANCHES.

Papa, I shall plant my branch in my little
garden, and it will grow a large tree.

I am not quite certain of that, my boy. There
are some plants which grow in that way, which
have a great deal of sap, and those whose leaves
fall in autumn. The fir-tree is not one of that
kind; so your branch, which is so straight and
beautiful just now with its green leaves, will be
withered, and not fit for anything, after a few
days, but to be thrown into the fire.

Why ?

Because it will not send out any more roots.
You know that plants get food from two different
places,—from the air by their leaves, and from
the earth by their roots. A tree would very
soon die if we were to take away both its leaves
and its roots; just as a man would soon die, if he
were to sit down every day before a well-covered
table, without a mouth to eat any of the good
things on it. The leaves and the roots are the
mouths of plants.






CHAPTER XXII.

THE FIR-TREE'S STORY—THE PINE-TREE—
‘THE TRAVELLERS.

4H! here we are now, at the top of the
hill. Keep away from the door, in case
you should fall out when I open it.
Now, we are all in our places. Little
Harry is smiling; he looks as if he were
glad to see us all together again.

Now tell us the story you promised.

Very well. Suppose we are sitting near the
tree from which I cut these pretty branches, and
it begins to speak to us. Here is what it says:—
“T ama fir-tree. I grow on the hill. My leaves
are always green, and I am the largest of all the
trees of the forest. But I have not been always
so big. Some years ago I was shut up in a cone,
like those you see lying on the ground.”


148 THE FIR-TREE’S STORY.



FIR CONES.

Where are they? I do not see any.

There are none in the diligence, but they are
to be found under fir-trees.

“One very hot day this cone opened, and a
very small seed came out—so small that a child
could hide it in its little hand. This seed was
carried away by the water which came down
from the hill during a storm. Fortunately it
came against a stone in its passage, which stopped
it and sheltered it. When the storm was past,
and the course of the stream was dry, it found
THE FIR-TREE’S STORY. 149

itself buried under a heap of broken leaves mixed
with earth.”

Poor little seed !

Oh, it is not to be pitied at all; that was just
what it needed.

“A few months after, a little blade of grass
appeared above the earth ; that was me.”

Was it you, papa?

No, no; it was the fir-tree. You must re-
member it is the fir-tree that is speaking.

“T was so very little at that time, that if you
had passed over the spot you could very easily
have trampled on me, although I cover you now
with my shade.

“You see I have grown very much since that
time. Every year my head rises a little higher,
and my branches stretch out around me like arms.
I live to a great age. Men do not live so long as
fir-trees. When you are very old, and hardly
able to walk or stand upright, I shall be quite as
green and as straight as I am to-day.”

Has the fir-tree finished its story?

Yes; but it has not told you that some day it
will be cut down.

What a pity!

It is only then that it will be really useful.
150 THE PINE-TREE.

It will perhaps be made into a mast for a ship,
or a beam to hold up a roof, or it will be sawn
into logs for houses, or carriages, or used for
various pieces of furniture.

Are there any fir-trees at Marseilles ?

No, dear. Fir-trees don’t grow in warm coun-
tries or near the sea. But there is a tree which
grows on the hills of Provence very like the fir-
tree, and it belongs to the same family. It is the
pine; it is tall like the fir-tree, and green too,
and it bears cones also nearly of the same shape.

Papa, tell us its story.

But I have already told you the half of it.

We should like better to hear the tree speak ?

Well, it will tell you the rest of it.

“T do not need to tell you my name. You
know me already. You have seen me often by
the sea-shore, and you have often rested under my
shade.

“T like dry, sandy ground. I look like a
parasol from a distance.”

Like my little parasol ?

Yes, Lily.

“When the wind blows through my branches,
people think they hear the distant noise of the
tempest. But the more I am beaten about by
THE PINE-TREE. 151



PINE-TREE.

the storm, the stronger and larger I grow. The
little trees round about’ me have nothing to fear.
My thick green dress shelters them from the cold
winds quite as well as a wall could do.

“You see that I am a useful tree; and I bear
a fruit which is very good to eat, and tastes very
like hazel-nuts, and which is often made into
152 THE PINE-TREE.

sugar-plums. And my branches give to the poor,
who have no oil to put into their lamps, a beauti-
ful light which costs them nothing.”

How do you know that story ?

It is very pretty. Tell it again.

Oh, not just now.

Do you remember what the pine said to you?

It said that it was like my little parasol.

Why are fir-trees not like my parasol ?

Look at these houses down in the valley. Are
they like the houses at Marseilles?

No.

What is on the top of ours?

A terrace.

There could not be a terrace unless the roof
were flat.

Are the roofs of the houses flat in this part of
the country ?

No; they are sloping.

Can you tell me why the roofs are flat. at
Marseilles and sloping at Bellegarde ?

I don’t know.

Is there any snow at Marseilles ?

Very little.

And here ?

A great deal.
THE TRAVELLERS. 153

If the roofs were flat in this country the snow
would be heaped up on them, and would at last
destroy the houses; but as they are sloping, it
slips off all round and falls to the ground.

Now, do you understand why the fir-trees have
not a large top and branches spread out like a
parasol ?

Is it to prevent the snow destroying them ?

Yes, dear. - You see that God is very good.
He does not put on a tree or any creature a
heavier load than it can bear. He has been very
good to us, for he has preserved us from accident
till now.

Papa, is that Geneva down there ?

No; it is Bellegarde. A few hours more, my
little travellers, and we shall be at Geneva.

Are we travellers ?

Yes, dear; that is what people are called who.
go from one place to another. And we shall still
be travellers even after our journey to Geneva is
over.

Why?

Where were Lily and Francis five years ago?
They did not know anything, or any person, and
no one knew them.

God has placed them on the earth.
154 THE TRAVELLERS.

To live there always ?

No; they must soon leave it. They began the
journey when they came into the world, they are
still going on, and they will come to the end of it
when they die.

Papa, what you said just now has made me
very sad,

But it should not make you sad. Are you
not very happy to go to Geneva?

Yes, very.

And why should you not be happy to go to
heaven ?

Because there is no grandmamma there.

Yes, there is one there already—my mother ;
and the other grandmamma will very soon be
there too. I hope we shall all meet there one
day, in the presence of our heavenly Father. We
are all very happy in the prospect of meeting our
friends at Geneva; but in a few months we shall
have to go away from them again, and that is
very sad. 3

In heaven there will be no good-byes; we shall
not need to write to those we love, for after we
have met there we shall be always together.

I wish to go to heaven.

But we shall not be able to get into heaven.
THE TRAVELLERS. 155

Why?

Because there is no door in the sky.

Oh, don’t vex yourself about that, my boy ;
when the Lord Jesus went up to heaven, he said
to his disciples, who were sorry at his going away,
“T go to prepare a place for you, and when it is
prepared I will come again and take you with
me, so that where I am, there ye may be also.”

Will he take little children too?

‘Yes.

Why ?

Because he loves them, Will you not love
this good Lord Jesus?

Yes ; we will.




CHAPTER XXIII.

THE LITTLE BEGGAR-GIRL—THE FORTRESS OF L’ECLUSE—
SWITZERLAND.





pJAKE your places in the coach, ladies and
* gentlemen.

; Come, children, the guard is calling

us; get into your cage; the next time

you will have to get down again will be

at Geneva.

Are you not going in with us, papa?

No; after leaving Bellegarde we come to a
steep hill. I am going to walk, but I shall keep
near the diligence.

Now your house, which runs on wheels, is off.
It has just crossed a bridge which is much higher
than any we have seen on the Rhone; the torrent
which rushes on below it has hollowed out a bed
for itself among the rocks.
THE LITTLE BEGGAR-GIRL. 157

This road is shaded on both sides by beautiful
walnut-trees.

What do you see at the side of the road ?

A precipice. It is so very deep that a cow
down in the valley does not look larger than a
goat. I wished to show you the Rhone, but I
can scarcely see it myself through these thick
branches which hang over the precipice.

Don’t go so near, papa!

Don’t be afraid for me. Iam coming back to
you immediately.

Will you help a poor girl who is very hungry ?
Will you give me a penny to buy bread?

Papa, come, quick. Here is a poor little beggar-
girl ; she has nothing to eat.

We must not give her money.

Why? You told us that all little children are
our brothers and sisters.

Yes; but that little girl has deceived us. Do
you not see that her cheeks are as round and
rosy as Harry’s. That shows that there is no
want of bread in her father’s house. She has
even a little bit of bread in her hand, which she
is hiding under her apron.

What did you say to her, papa? She goes
away hanging down her head.
158 THE LITTLE BEGGAR-GIRL.





THE BEGGAR-GIRL.

I have given her something.

You have not taken it out of your purse ?

A friend of the Lord Jesus one day met a man
who was lame. When he saw the poor man
THE LITTLE BEGGAR-GIRL. 159

stretching out his hand to him, he stopped and
said, “I have neither gold nor silver, but what I
have I give thee.”

And what did he give him?

He healed him. No one now can give such
good help to a poor person; but there is some-
thing which every one can give.

What is it ?

A kind word. Even little children can give
that. If we should happen to meet a poor little
ragged boy just now, and if he were to hold out
his hand to you for something, what would you
do? You have no money; the provision-basket
is empty,—Francis has just eaten the last biscuit.

I would tell him that another day I would give



him my luncheon.

But you would not see him again, for the ¢ili-
gence is carrying us away.

Then, I would tell him—- What should I say
to him, papa?

My friend, the good God sees you, and loves
you. Pray to him. He will give you food as
he gives it to the little birds.

Would the little boy be pleased with that ?

Yes; the poor and unhappy are pleased when
any one speaks to them kindly.
160 THE FORTRESS OF L’ECLUSE.

Here we are again among the mountains. You
will soon see one of the gates of France.

Is it a large gate?

The name gate is given to any narrow pass
among the hills between two countries. There
is very often a fort built in such a place. The
one we are coming to is called the Fort of L’Ecluse.
I know a brave captain who was shut up there
with his soldiers to defend it. When it was at-
tacked, I assure you that it would not have been
pleasant to be near this place ; the cannons roared
and the bullets swept along this very road.

There is the fort; it has on the right a moun-
tain, on the left another mountain, and down
there, between the two, the Rhone. There is,
then, no other road through the pass than ‘the
one along which we are driving. See, we are
going to pass through the fortress.

What a noise !

It is the diligence passing over the drawbridge.
There is one on the way in, and another on the
way out from the fort. If, now that we are in,
the drawbridge on the Geneva side were to be
raised, we could not go any further, for we should
be prisoners. Prisoners would not be very ill off
here. They would have a very fine view. Look!
THE FORTRESS OF L’ECLUSE. 161

we can see a part of Savoy; and down there, at
the bottom of the pass, your friend, the Rhone,
looks as if it were hurrying to leave its beautiful
country—ungrateful river that it is.

But if we were really prisoners here, we would
cast longing looks towards Geneva, and feel sad



MOUNT BLANC,

to think we could not get out, when, from the
top of the fort, we could see through the clouds
the snowy top of Mount Blanc and the other
beautiful mountains round it.

But don’t be afraid; we are not going to be
(381) sa
162 SWITZERLAND.

prisoners. See! we are out already. Fort, can-
nons, drawbridge, everything is already far be-
hind us.

Postilion, make the horses go faster! Horses,
gallop quick along this beautiful road; we are
longing to get to the end of our journey. Be-
hind these trees and these hills there are many
eyes looking for us, and many friends who are
asking if the dust on the road is not raised! by
our diligence passing along.

It seems as if the horses knew what was said ;
they are galloping on, they soon leave the hedges
behind them. The country-people are wondering
at our rapid pace; they raise their heads to look
at us, but in a minute we are past and far away
from them.

What a fresh, cool breeze comes, to bid us wel-
come! It has passed over the snow,—it has blown
through the fir-trees,—it has skimmed the waters
of the lake,—and now it plays on our faces and
tosses about our hair.

Children, there is Switzerland at last! We
are entering it now; but we must not quite for-
get France, that other country which we have
come from. When shall we see it again? Ah!
who knows to what places we may yet be carried.
SWITZERLAND. 163

But it is a comfort to think that, although we
may be far away from the places we have known
and loved, and even far away from our own
country, we have a better country, a home in
heaven, to which we are always drawing nearer.
Still, in whatever part of the world we may pitch
our tent, our hearts will never lose sight of the
towers of St. Pierre, to which we are going, or of
the rocks of Provence, which we have left behind.

Our homes on earth are, after all, only resting-
places for a short time. We must sooner or later
leave them all, Let us often think of our home
in our Father’s house above, and like the good
people long ago, of whom we read in the Bible,
let us live “like strangers and pilgrims on earth,
desiring a better country, that is an heavenly”
(Heb. xi. 13-16).




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