Naturally, a country lying as Holland lies is very damp and misty, and its entire surface is covered with the network of ca.n.a.ls running through the meadows to the sea. If you could stand on a hill and look down on it, it would look like an enormous puzzle, consisting of hundreds of small vivid green pieces cut apart by the ca.n.a.ls and decorated by the quaint red-roofed houses of which we have spoken.
Through all the ca.n.a.ls flows the same water, and all of them are connected with each other, and are so very wide in some places that there is much traffic on them. Then, too, through miles of the green fields flow the narrower ca.n.a.ls, draining the pasturelands, and everywhere one feels the nearness and the menace of the everlasting sea, and the protection of the d.y.k.es rearing the huge bulwarks between the peaceful country and its treacherous enemy.
And that brings us back again to Haarlem on that April day when the quaint little town was gay with the red and yellow tulips and the air sweet with the scent of hyacinths.
On that bright spring day a little boy whose name is said to have been Peter, and whose father was a sluicer, had for his dinner some cakes of which he was very fond, and which his mother had baked because she knew how much Peter liked them.
Peter was a very unselfish boy, and whenever he had anything he liked, his first thought always was to share it with someone else. So, as soon as he had finished his meal, he jumped up from the table and begged his mother to let him go to see a poor blind man who lived not far away, and to let him carry with him those cakes which had not been eaten.
His mother was pleased with this thought of Peter"s for the poor old man, and at once brought a basket and filled it with cakes for him to carry to the invalid, while Peter"s father was making him promise not to stay out too late, and soon the boy was on his way to his friends, happy in the beauty of the day, and in the thought of the pleasure his present would give the blind man.
And he was not mistaken, the old man was delighted with the cakes, and at once broke and ate one, while he began to tell Peter one of the stories for which he was famous, and which he knew Peter loved to hear.
But Peter suddenly remembered his promise not to stay out late, and finally became so uneasy that he told the old man he must not wait to hear the end of the story, and, hastily bidding him farewell, started towards home.
His path lay beside the d.y.k.e, and along its gra.s.sy banks grew beautiful wild flowers of many varieties, so numerous and attractive that Peter decided to pick a bunch of them to carry home to his mother, who was so much of an invalid that she was seldom out of the house. So he picked a few here and a few there--blue and yellow and pink, until he had a handful of those varieties of which he knew his mother was most fond, and as he walked on, to keep himself from feeling lonesome, he hummed a gay little song.
Presently, he stopped, and neither sang nor smiled, as he looked at a slender thread of water trickling through the gra.s.s. Where did it come from? Surely not from the ca.n.a.l, and there was nowhere else for it to come from unless it came from the d.y.k.e itself.
The thought was enough to make even a child turn pale and tremble. Only the d.y.k.es stood between the boundless sea and the safety of little Holland. He looked again, and to his imagination, the stream seemed greater already. What could he do? Night was coming on, the road was a solitary one. There was only the barest chance of anyone pa.s.sing that way whom he might hail, or of whom he could ask advice.
Then came a quick recollection of his promise to his father, and he started homeward again, but a force as mighty as a giant"s grasp, made him turn back again to watch that trickling stream of water.
He was near one of the great oaken sluices, and bounding up beside it he carefully examined the d.y.k.e. There, as small as his finger, was a hole--strange and unaccountable happening,--and through that little hole was flowing the stream of water at his feet.
Like lightning the flash of intuition came to Peter, if that hole were not stopped up instantly, the force of the flow through it would rapidly increase from the pounding of that mighty sea behind it. In a night the flood would break through the d.y.k.e and perhaps destroy all the homes in Holland.
What could he do? No stone would fit the hole, no amount of earth packed into the crevice could resist the pressure of the water. Peter was desperate. Forgotten now were his bunch of flowers which fell unheeded from his hand. He strained his eyes in a vain search for travellers on that lonely road, vainly he shouted out for help until his throat was hoa.r.s.e. What could he do? It was no common instinct that came in that lightning flash to Peter. Climbing again up the steep bank, from stone to stone, he thrust his finger in the hole and, oh, joy, it fitted! It stopped the trickling water for the moment, but, oh, what would happen when he took it out?
Ah, it was as clear as daylight, what to do. He would not take it out until someone should come to relieve him. Forgetful of what this idea might bring to him, if carried out, he chuckled with a boyish delight in this real adventure.
"Ha, ha!" he said to himself. "The water _can"t_ come down now. Haarlem shall not be drowned while I am here to keep the flood back."
For awhile excitement kept him warm and fearless. Then the chill darkness of the night surrounded him. All sorts of strange noises fell upon his unaccustomed ears, he seemed to see giants and demons lurking near, ready to pounce upon him and kill him. Although he was a st.u.r.dy lad, tears came at last, when he could no longer keep back thoughts of his comfortable bed at home, of the parents who might be even then worrying about his safety, although as he before remained over night with the old man, Jansen, he felt that his mother and father had probably gone to bed and to sleep, while he was out in the dark night alone and in such a misery of pain. The pain grew greater, the misery harder to bear every moment now, and still Peter kept his finger in that dangerous hole.
He tried to whistle, hoping to attract the attention of some straggling traveller, but his teeth chattered so much that he gave it up, and then he remembered what he had been taught at his mother"s knee, and Peter prayed to the great G.o.d who could control the surging sea and protect a boy who was doing his best. Peter was only a child, but if he ever prayed with his whole heart, he prayed so that night in the darkness, with his numbed finger thrust through that hole in the d.y.k.e, and when his prayer was said he somehow felt braver, stronger and older than before, and in his heart he said:
"I will not take it out till someone comes. I will stay till morning."
Longer and longer grew the hours, the minutes, the seconds, and yet he never moved--there were strange noises in his head, his thoughts were confused, pictures of his playmates, of events long ago forgotten danced before his eyes. He was not sure he could draw his finger out of the hole even if he wished to do so, it felt so strangely numb. What did it mean that knives seemed to be cutting, and pins p.r.i.c.king him from head to foot? What would happen if no one ever found him--no one ever came to help?
At last the rose and silver of the dawn flushed the sky. Day had come and along that lonesome road came the first traveller in all the hours of Peter"s vigil.
A clergyman whose night had been spent by the bedside of a sick parishioner, hurrying homeward on the path beside the d.y.k.e, heard a groan, a feeble sound of one in mortal agony. Turning, he glanced, first here and there, and looking up, at last, he saw beside the d.y.k.e, the figure of a child writhing in agony.
In a single bound, the clergyman stood beside him exclaiming:
"In the name of wonder, boy, what are you doing here?"
"I am keeping the water from running out," said Peter. "Oh, can"t you ask them to come _quick_."
And they did. The town of Haarlem, even Holland itself, had been saved, through the courage of a little boy who did his duty, and from that day to this there has never been a child in Holland who has not heard the stirring story of Peter, whose pluck was worthy of a sluicer"s son, and whose name will never be forgotten, or effaced from the page of historic legend.
DAVID:
The Shepherd Boy
A rare good fortune it is to have a friend so true and so faithful that it is as safe to tell him a secret as to whisper it to yourself, one to whom your interests are as important as his own, and who would do any sort of unselfish act to show his devotion to you. It was just such a comradeship as this which existed between two boys of long ago, the story of whose intimacy has come down to us from Bible times as a most wonderful example of what a friendship can be.
Those boys were David, the son of Jesse of Bethlehem, and Jonathan, the son of Saul, King of Israel, and when you hear two persons spoken of as "a David and a Jonathan" you may know that they are the closest kind of friends.
To appreciate thoroughly the friendship between David and Jonathan, and what it meant to both of them, let us go back a little into the history of the time in which the boys lived, and look at the circ.u.mstances which led up to their friendship, for that is very important to a clear understanding of the story of David and Jonathan.
At that time the kingdom of Israel was in a deplorable condition, for the Philistines, a war-like tribe who lived in a small territory on the coast, had over-run and conquered most of Israel, and Samuel who was the aged guide and advisor of the Israelites, as well as the last of the judges and the first of the prophets of Israel, saw that the only hope for his people lay in having a higher moral standard and a central government. To bring this about, Samuel established the schools of the prophets in Ramah and other cities, where men could be trained to teach their nation how to live wiser, purer lives--and Samuel also anointed Saul as King of Israel, and for a while Saul ruled wisely and well.
Then he disobeyed the command of G.o.d, and began to care for conquest in war only when it brought him glory or the spoils of battles, and Samuel seeing this, was much troubled, and finally went to Saul and told him that he must repent and do differently or he would no longer be worthy to be the King of Israel, that G.o.d demanded more honest service than he was giving. Saul was considerably troubled at this plain speaking of Samuel and promised to do better in future, but when Samuel left him, it was with a heavy heart, for he felt sure that there would be need of a new king--that Saul would not keep his promises.
And so Samuel at once began to look for a man whom he could anoint as the future King, although no one knew of this purpose but himself, and the voice of G.o.d within him inspired him to go to Bethlehem and seek among the sons of Jesse for the King he wished to find. So Samuel went to Bethlehem, but in order that the real purpose of his visit might not be discovered, he took with him beside the horn of oil with which he would anoint the new King if he should find him, also a young calf to offer as a sacrifice, that he might have a suitable excuse to give to the people for his visit.
Of course the coming of Samuel created a great excitement in the little town of Bethlehem, for the people feared that he came to reprove them for some wrong-doing, until Samuel a.s.sured them that this was not so, that he came peaceably, and in proof of it invited them to the sacrifice which he was preparing to offer on a hill just outside the gate of the city. According to the rule of Oriental hospitality, it was customary that some prominent man from the village should invite Samuel to return to his home after offering the sacrifice, to break bread with him and to pa.s.s the night under his roof if Samuel desired to do so, and as Samuel had invited Jesse to the sacrifice, it came about quite naturally that, as Samuel desired, it was Jesse"s home to which the aged Prophet went.
After they had arrived there, Samuel and Jesse sat and talked together alone, for although Jesse had eight sons and two daughters, and they were no longer children, the Eastern custom forbade a man"s family to enter his presence unless he expressly asked them to do so. And so Samuel and Jesse were alone together, until Samuel asked Jesse if he had no sons. Jesse replied that he had, and Samuel then requested to see them. It was natural for a father to be pleased at such a request and Jesse at once sent for Eliab, his eldest son, who promptly came into the presence of his father and the aged Prophet, and Samuel looked earnestly at the tall, handsome fellow, but a voice within him told Samuel that Eliab was not the king-to-be, and after a brief talk with the young man, he was dismissed, and Jesse called another and then another of his sons, until Samuel had seen seven of them, but the prophet only shook his head as he saw each one of them, for the voice of inspiration or instinct said within him:
"Neither hath the Lord chosen this." Then Samuel turned once more to Jesse and asked:
"Are here all thy children?" And Jesse answered reluctantly:
"There remaineth yet the youngest, and behold he keepeth the sheep."
Then Samuel bade Jesse send for David, which he did, and David, who was as usual roaming with his flock in the Judean pasture-land, was greatly surprised to see a messenger coming to him in breathless haste, and still more was he surprised to receive his father"s message that he was to come home at once, as the prophet Samuel had asked to see him before leaving. It was an unexpected command, but young David was always ready for any emergency, and so, simply taking up his shepherd"s staff, which was a long stick with a handle crooked in such a way that by its aid David could examine the limbs of his flock, or roll a sheep over with it, when unruly and without further preparation, David accompanied the messenger, although filled with wonder as to the reason for being summoned to appear before the aged prophet Samuel.
See him as he enters his home and stands before Samuel, red-cheeked, fair-skinned, glowing with health and happiness, with arms strong enough to break a bow of steel, and with limbs like a deer"s in their swiftness to escape a foe or to scale a wall. St.u.r.dy and fearless he stood before Samuel, the picture of youthful vigour and courage, and when Samuel had scarcely more than glanced at him, the voice of G.o.d spoke within the prophet saying:
"Arise, anoint him, for this is he."
Then Samuel rose with simple earnestness and laid a hand on David"s shoulder, looking long and solemnly into the clear bright eyes which answered his glance, then more solemnly still, Samuel took up the horn of oil which he had brought with him, and with the customary ceremony, anointed David, the fair-haired young shepherd boy, to be the future King of Israel. As only kings were anointed and Samuel always performed this ceremony, Jesse could not have failed to understand the solemn rite, although he must have marvelled over it, wondering why it should be performed over this, his youngest and least important son.
Doubtless, although the Bible narrative does not tell us so, the aged prophet later spoke to Jesse of the meaning of his act, and one can imagine Jesse"s flutter of heart at the thought that one of his boys should have been chosen to fill such a great position. David also, young as he was, must have understood in some measure what the ceremony meant, although he must have been completely at a loss to understand how he, a mere child, could be the Lord"s anointed. Probably, like any other boy of to-day, he wanted to ask questions, but there was not the freedom allowed young people in those days that there is now and David, looking from the awe-struck face of his father, to the solemn one of the prophet, doubtless kept silent. Then with an appropriately reverential farewell to the aged prophet he must have been sent from the presence of Jesse and Samuel, sent back again to his accustomed task and to await the fulfilling of that destiny which, from the moment when he thrilled at the touch of the prophet"s hand on his head, and the sound of his solemn words, he felt sure was in some way to link his life in consecrated service to that of the people of Israel.
But that belief did not alter his conduct in his daily routine of duty, and with the faithfulness which was one of his marked characteristics, he continued to care for his sheep, tending them with increased watchfulness under the stimulus of his new day-dream.
And from that moment David had unconsciously taken the motto which was his through all his adventurous life:
"I shall not raise my hand against the Lord"s anointed."
From that hour when he went back to tend his sheep, after Samuel"s visit, to the time when his destiny was fulfilled, David, even under the stress of fierce temptation, never moved a finger to hasten events; never tried to force his way to the throne of Israel, but with buoyant courage, did his duty day by day, and the monotony of his early shepherd"s life was varied only by an occasional unexpected adventure.