Where is heaven?

Chapter I. Messengers Of God

A POORLY-CLAD boy cowered in the vestibule of a large handsome house in Breslau. The short winter day was drawing to a close, and, although it was not yet too dark for the child to carry about his little stock of fine white sand, he curled himself up in the corner behind the broad staircase, as though he had — for to-day, at least — abandoned all efforts to sell it. He had taken off his shabby and torn boots, and vainly tried to rub some warmth into his

numb feet with his little shaking fingers, i* 5 themselves almost helpless with the cold. Now he stroked down his curly blond hair as smoothly as he could, and, placing the bag filled with sand close against the wall, he laid his head upon it and spread a larger sack, already emptied of its contents, over him. But still it was so bitter cold! His teeth chattered, and, rub his hands as he might, they yet remained blue and stiff

A side-door opened and a servant passed through the hall bearing a tray filled with cups of fragrant, steaming coffee ; in a basket on her arm appeared delicious-looking hot rolls.

The shivering little boy did not move- — he was afraid of being discovered and again driven out into the cold street — but sudden tears rolled over his pale cheeks. He was so hungry, and had still so far to go before he should reach the room where his old blind grandmother dwelt; and he felt, besides, so tired — so deadly tired — that it seemed he could never stand up again.

" Only a quarter of an hour will I rest," thought the child, "and then I will run fast, that grandmother and Rosa may not be anxious at my long stay. Perhaps they will have a pot of coffee to-night and something warm to eat because it is so very cold. I wonder if the new year that comes to-morrow will be better to us than the old one?" he continued to himself as he nestled shivering under the cold sack. " Grandmother has often said, ' When the distress is greatest, help is nearest;* but our distress is great, and no one helps us. And if grandmother does say, ' God sends his messengers into the world to help the poor and make glad the sorrowful,' I will never believe it again ; • for the messengers of God have not come to us, and yet grandmother is ever praying to the dear Lord, and I too pray every day.

Ach ! ach I" he sighed; and again tears rolled from his heavy eyes. "What will I do if I cannot have warm clothes, and my hands and feet become so stiff with the cold that I cannot go about and sell my sand? Then must we all three go hungry — grandmother, Rosa and I ? — Dear God I beg thee with all my heart, send only once thy messenger to us with — with a new coat, or with — "

Half dreamily the boy listened to the sound of an opening door and of footsteps passing through the hall, and it seemed as though a rustling of dresses and the whispering of soft voices were close beside him. But cold and fatigue had so overpowered him that his heavy eyelids only drooped lower and lower, and he sank into a sound sleep.

" It is really and truly a poor boy under the sack," again whispered a voice; and a daring little eight-year-old maiden cautiously lifted a corner of the coarse linen sack, and dropped it again over the sleeper.

" Truly ?" asked the other children — a boy and a girl — as they softly bent down to see the face of the strange visitor.

" How pale he looks !•" said Margareth, the oldest of the group. "And see !" she added, pitifully, as she peeped beneath the sack; "how ragged his clothes are! He has no stockings ; that is dreadful. Come ! let us ask mother to give us some warm stockings for him."

" He may have some of mine," said Hubert, eagerly ; and the three children ran up to their mother's sitting-room, at the head of the wide staircase, all talking at once of the poor boy they had found lying in the hall.

" I have so many things in my wardrobe ; please give some of them to him, dear moth-

IO WHERE IS HEAVEN?

er, " begged Hubert. " The poor boy must be half frozen."

" Besides stockings, he needs shoes," said the impulsive Elsie, " and perhaps my leather boots will fit him. — You know, Motherdie — those with the warm linings."

" No, he should have a thick jacket and warm woollen pants," said the motherly Margareth. — "And do you know what I would do, Motherdie," she cried, joyously clapping her hands : " I would not give them to him, but we might put them quietly in his sack while he is asleep."

" Yes, ach yes !" shouted Elsie.

" What great eyes he will make, and how glad he will be ! Then, too, he need thank no one ; for I know he will feel so strangely ! —Oh, Motherdie, that will be lovely !"

The mother's dress was black and her face was sad, but as she listened to the children an expression of interest and sympathy

MESSENGERS OF GOD. II

lighted her gentle, lovely countenance, and she said with a smile,

" But, my Elsie, always so impulsive, you forget that we have as yet nothing ready for this joyous surprise."

"Yes, truly," said Elsie, sobering a little and thoughtfully putting her hand to her forehead.

Just then Hubert came 'running into the room holding in one hand a pair of woollen stockings and in the other Elsie's boots.

" Not so hastily. Patience ! patience !" said the mother, gently, taking the things from the children and laying them aside. '* Wait only a few minutes, and I also will have a share in your pleasure." She left the room, but soon returned with a large box, which she placed upon the floor and carefully opened.

The joyous excitement of the children was softened as they earnestly looked at the mother and then at the box, which they knew well ; and Margareth's eyes filled with tears.

" Will you give away the clothes of our dear Fritz?" she whispered, softly.

The mother took from the box a warm suit of clothes, almost new, with a cloak and a winter cap. Stockings and shoes accompanied these, besides a large woollen shawl and knitted woollen gloves. One moment her glance lingered with painful sadness on the clothes, that had been worn but a short time since by her own lost boy ; then she handed the jacket and the cloak to Margareth, the other things to the younger ones, and said,

" Now go, my children ; go and care for the poor boy down stairs. He also is your brother, only it is not so well with him as with you ; therefore he needs double love. Will the clothes fit him?"

" Yes, indeed," cried the children ; " he is just as tall as our dear Fritz."

With happy faces they hastened away; but Margareth held her sister fast a moment and said warningly,

" Softly, softly, that we may not awaken him. You must not chatter, Elsie."

Elsie nodded her golden head, and noiselessly they glided down the stairs.

The boy still lay as they had left him,

sleeping soundly; but the light in the hall

had grown dim, and the children's eyes must

become accustomed to the gloom before they

could begin their work. Margareth carefully

lifted the empty sack, and with faces glowing

with excitement the children packed in it

the warm winter garments, the cloak at the

bottom, stockings and shoes on top. When

they had finished, Hubert with a triumphant

glance brought forth his share, the hot rolls,

and laid them in the mouth of the now 2 upright-standing sack. He ,then tried the weight of the bag, wound the cord loosely around the top and placed it in the corner, close by the head of the sleeping boy, who at this moment deeply sighed and moved.

The children quickly stole away, but stood still on the upper landing to watch and listen. A servant lighted the lamps in the hall and went away. The heavy tread of the man or the brilliant flood of light awakened the boy. He sat up and rubbed his heavy eyes, then reached out his hand for the cover he had spread over himself, but could not find it. Frightened, he started up, now fully aroused and forgetful of the cold that had so tormented him :

" Ach ! My sack is gone ! Some one has taken it!"

He anxiously looked around, and his glance suddenly fell on the well-filled bag which stood beside him. Is that his sack?

Astonished, doubting, he touched it with his fingers; he examined the cord with which it was fastened. Yes, truly, it was his sack. He recognized all the knots which he had vainly tried to untie; he beheld on the upper edge the familiar patch of blue — a piece of his grandmother's old apron with which a kindly neighbor had mended it. But what, then, had happened ? Who had filled the sack ? Had the messengers of God — Had they really come while he slept? And did the bag hold something for himself? His heart beat violently; he stood irresolute, but at last ventured to loosen the cord and peep in. With trembling hands and feverish excitement he lifted out one article after another. He could not doubt that all these things were for him. In greater haste he laid the wonderful treasures back again and fell on his knees.

"Ach, thou dear God!" he cried, aloud;

"I thank thee that thou hast sent thine angels to me; I thank thee many, manytimes. But what will Rosa say, and grandmother ? Ach ! I was never so happy in all my life." Bright tears of joy streamed over the little pale face.

Over the baluster above leant three eager childish heads, and in their eyes also shone tears of sympathy, while thek hearts beat with the joy of those who know how " blessed it is to give."

The poor boy sped homeward with his welcome burden, and the children returned to their mother, but more quietly than before. To them had come a blissful consciousness not unmingled with awe.

The mother looked up from her work and smiled at the little group, but Elsie ran to her and quickly hid her glowing face on her shoulder as she whispered,

"Oh, mother, think what the poor boy imagined ! He thought God had sent his angels to him while he slept."

"And is it not true?" asked the mother, gently raising the child's face. "The Lord sends his messengers to all who are poor, suffering or troubled when they most need help — always at the right moment. There are, alas ! many who shut their ears to the Master's call — many who pay but little heed; but those who once have known this blessed privilege of ministering to the poor or afflicted ones feel that it is a heavenly mission and is rewarded by a peace and happiness which no earthly pleasure can bestow."

" But if one has no money, he is unable to help the poor, dear mother," said Margareth.

"There are other means of doing good

within the power of every one, my child.

It is often but little that God requires of us

for our suffering brother — sometimes only

a friendly encouraging glance, a comforting 2* B or warning word at the right moment, a giving up of our own wills, a ' soft answer/ a little effort to smooth out the tangled threads for others. Often, truly, it is also a great sacrifice — something that requires great effort and endurance. And if we are not angels, but only poor faulty human beings, yet may we all be the messengers of God in our quiet, untiring labors of love, humble and unperceived, as in the silent night the dew from heaven refreshes and strengthens the plants of the earth. Is this not true, my children ? and will you not strive, ever with hearts full of love, to wander, as messengers of the Master, on this beautiful God's earth, helping and making glad whenever it is in your power ?"

The children had closely gathered around their mother and listened attentively to her words. She bent her head, and the matronly Margareth said thoughtfully,

" If all mothers would but do as you have done to-day, Motherdie, and would give the pretty warm clothing which they keep stored away in memory of their lost ones, who are in heaven and need nothing more, to the poor children who have so little, it would, be well; would it not, dear mother? Why do they not?"

" There are many good people in the world dear child, and many hearts and hands ever ready to soften the hard lot of the poor. We will belong to that class as much as it is in our power. Let us begin the new year with this resolution. And now to work, my children ! The lamps are lighted, and father will soon be here."

" Yes, Motherdie ; we must indeed be industrious," said Elspeth the impulsive, with an important air. " I have curtains to put up in my dolls' house, and mirrors, and to fill the chandeliers with fresh candles; for to-morrow is the court-ball and everything must be in order."

"And I must dust our bookcase, from top to bottom, arrange the books regularly, inspect my regiment and repair my fortress."

Margareth laughed merrily :

" I have the best of it. My things are all in order; and if the old year peeps in for a parting look, he will be quite satisfied with the prospect for his successor."

"Ach ! he can no longer see well," cried Elspeth, saucily ; " he is so old that he cannot stoop down and peer into all the corners."

Laughing and jesting, Hubert and Elsie hastened to the playroom, while Margareth assisted her mother in the arrangement of the tea-table ; for the Kommerzienrath Willmers liked to be surrounded by his family circle on the last day of the year, and closed his counting-house earlier than usual on this evening.

Meanwhile, the poor boy ran homeward as quickly as he could with his double load through the blinding snow. The joy that filled his heart or the rapid motion had made him warm when he eagerly mounted the steps which led to his grandmother's little room ; he was quite unconscious of the cold or the storm.

It had become dark, and, although the child had ascended the stairs many times, he was now compelled to moderate his haste ; for the staircase was narrow and high, and in the upper story lacked a railing. But at last he reached the shabby little door, and, gently opening it, peeped into see whether his grandmother were awake or asleep. But, as though she had long waited this moment, a slender little maiden sprang from a low stool to the boy's side, threw both arms about his neck and burst into violent weeping.

" What is the matter, Rosa? Do not choke me," said the boy, in frightened tones, as he let both sacks slip from his hands, and tenderly held the sobbing child. "Are you hungry ? Are you cold ? Do not cry so. See ! I have bread for you, and here in the sack are warm clothes and shoes and— "

" Grandmother is sick ; and you must not not leave me again, Fritz : I am afraid."

" Grandmother sick ?" repeated Fritz, anxiously; and he walked toward the bed.

The old Frau lay there with closed eyes, breathing quietly as though she slept, and by the dim light of the little lamp her face seemed no paler than usual.

The sister raised her tear-swollen eyes, and inquiringly looked, now at her brother, then at the sleeping figure on the bed.

" I do not see why you should be troubled about grandmother," whispered the boy. " She sleeps well ; why think you she is sick ?"

" Frau Hanna' has said so, and the doctor whom she called to see grandmother. She has lain there since early morning, and has not moved or spoken, and — "

"And you, Rosa — what have you done? Have you had nothing to eat?"

"Nothing; and I have been so sorry and so hungry ! and I have prayed for the messengers of the Lord ; but," she continued, with a sob, "they have not come. And then I grew frightened ; it was so still that I—"

" But, Rosa," uttered Fritz, exultantly, half aloud, " only think : the messengers of the Lord have come to me. Look into this sack, and you will surely believe it. Think you it is filled with sand ? Oh yes — beautiful sand ! See ! see here !" and the boy hastily unpacked the comfortable stores, while the little sister stood still in wonder and delight. She listened with great astonished eyes to his story.

So absorbed were the two children in the discussion of this marvellous thing that had happened to Fritz that they started up in affright when the door opened and a neighbor walked in.

Frau Hanna silently nodded to them and went over to the bed where the grandmother lay. She bent over the sleeping woman, listened to her breathing and sadly shook her head. Then she drew the children with her to the window and said gently,

"You are such good children that you will not cry out and be unreasonable when I tell you that your grandmother must leave you."

" Grandmother will never leave us," uttered Fritz, quickly and decidedly.

But the little girl grew pale, and from her trembling lips sounded almost inaudibly,

"Will grandmother die?"

"Poor child!" murmured the neighbor;

and she stroked the sad face of the child. " Do you, then, know what death is ?"

" Yes, I know," said Rosa : " it is to have golden wings and fly up to heaven to the dear God, where the sun shines ever and the many stars, and never more to be cold or hungry. Fritz and I would die too."

'SDear, dear!" murmured Frau Hanna; " it is high time the children were in other hands. The good old soul has filled their minds with fairy-tales. — Come, children," she continued, comfortingly ; " do not weep, but go to bed. I will stay here."

" No, I cannot sleep," replied Rosa, vehemently.

" Rosa, do not be obstinate," begged the woman. u See ! I have brought you a piece of buttered bread."

The child shook her head and turned away.

" Look, Fritz, how naughty Rosa is again, and how she tries me." The woman looked provoked, and Fritz spoke earnestly to his sister, but she would not yield.

" I know/' she whispered, " if we sleep, they will carry grandmother away, as they did Frau Hanna\s husband, and then we will be left alone."

" Listen, Rosa. You have often told me that you loved me," began Frau Hanna again ; " I have lived beside you for years, and have often helped your grandmother and been good to you. Is this the way you thank me for it ? Come, Rosa ; believe that I know what is best ; and if you love me, go quietly to rest."

The child at last bent her head in token of obedience, and soon after the brother and sister slipped under the coverlet of their but scantily-provided beds.

The neighbor sat with folded hands before the table, and murmured softlv to herself:

MESSENGERS OF GOD. 2J

" Death is a messenger of the Lord ; he comes for each one at his appointed time. The grandmother has often said this, and now it has proved true. But who will care for the desolate children? Will the Master send his messengers for them also ? Ach ! I believe the good old Frau has made me superstitious too."

She ceased her soliloquy and glanced almost timidly at the little window, which shook and rattled in the storm. She opened the Bible that lay upon the table and began to read, but the poor washerwoman had worked hard all day and was very tired. Fainter and fainter grew the whispered words ; her head fell forward on the book, and soon her loud regular breathing betrayed that she was sound asleep.

But the little Rosa slept not. With beating heart, and eyes wide open she stared incessantly at her grandmother and at Frau

Hanna. Now she noiselessly left her bed, slipped into her dress and carried her little stool to the side of the sick woman. There she became more quiet. She tenderly clasped her grandmother's hand in both her own, and comforted herself with the consciousness that no one could carry her dear grandmother away. The tide of busy life still swept through the streets of the great city, in spite of the late hour and the driving snow ; a neighboring clock sounded the last hour of the year; carriages rolled by, and merry voices rang out in ofttimes noisy greetings ; but the echoes of a happy human life touched not the attic-chamber: a mightier power stood outside this door. The icy night-wind passed over the roofs, whistling and howling, penetrated the poorly-fastened window and threatened to extinguish the dim light, even as the passing hours must extinguish the almost imperceptible spark of life in the sick woman.

Chapter II. The New Year

HOW changed was the world overnight! Blue and cloudless shone the heavens ; the air was still, and a foot high lay the dazzling white snow in the streets ; trees and bushes stood enveloped in a wonderfully beautiful starry covering as in silvery fairy-bloom. The sun was still concealed by the early morning mist, but a rosy shimmer gleamed through the filmy veil, softening the splendor of the enchanted world.

Kommerzienrath Willmers took his customary morning walk, and as he quietly moved along, returning with friendly nod and smile the many respectful greetings that

3* 29 met him on every side, his cheeks reddened by the fresh air, his thick hair only slightly touched with gray, one would have guessed him to be a man yet in the prime of life ; but Herr Willmers was in reality a much older man. He had married late, having patiently waited until he could offer his wife a home of ease and luxury. To this end he had labored long and earnestly, for he had started in life almost penniless, and at first had not been very successful. Many difficulties beset his path, but a brave, true unfaltering spirit and a strong will had enabled him to surmount them all ; and now for some years he had rejoiced in an assured position and a happy domestic life.

The greatest of all his riches to Herr Willmers were his children. To him there was nothing in the world more beautiful than the rosy, laughing faces of his little ones, no sweeter music than their merry voices, and the happiest hour of the day was that which once more brought him face to face with his beloved family group. Therefore the death of little Fritz, his youngest boy, had deeply grieved the tender father, and to-day, as on many another morning, he turned his steps toward the grave of his lost child. The solitude of the cemetery was unbroken ; the only sounds that penetrated its sacred silence were the distant city bells, and the pure white untrodden snow seemed a fit covering for the loved and lost, and too fair for the footprints of man.

Herr Willmers slowly stepped between the heavily-laden trees and stood with saddened face beside the little mound, raised only a few weeks before, over his sleeping child.

" My darling child, farewell ! I would have bid thee stay When they bore thee away, 'Neath sorrow's grievous spell,

Yet faith has come to-day, And now my heart can say, ' Thou art with Christ.

Farewell.' "

The fragment of this song unconsciously passed his lips*, and tears filled his eyes.

" Yet it was soon to leave us, my dear, dear Fritz !" murmured the father's heart.

Loudly and clearly through the stillness rang " Fritz, Fritz ! Stay with me !"

Herr Willmers started, and, turning around, perceived a little boy, who shyly approached him. When the child stood before him, he glanced up with frank, honest blue eyes — such eyes as his own lost Fritz had possessed — and said gently,

" Good-morning, Herr ; but you are not the — the gravedigger ?"

" No ; surely not, my boy. Is your name ' Fritz ' ? "

"Yes, Herr; and here comes Rosa. She is frightened, and calls me if I go only a few steps away/'

Herr Willmers seemed scarcely to hear what the child said. He observed with momentary astonishment the clothing of the boy, and touched with his fingers the fur trimming on the coat and the warm winter cap.

" Tell me, child : who has bought you this pretty coat and fur cap?" he asked, earnestly.

Rosa at this moment came up to them and seized her brother's hand.

" Truly, Herr, are they not wonderfully beautiful ?" said Fritz, confidentially. i€ No one has bought them/' he continued, in lowered, mysterious tones, "for God's angels brought them to me while I slept, because we are so poor and I was half frozen with the cold. But they brought nothing for Rosa," he concluded, in a dissatisfied manner, looking sadly at his little sister.

Now for the first time Herr Willmers glanced at Rosa. The little girl's dress was thin and faded, and Frau Hanna had carefully tied over her head and shoulders the shabby woollen shawl of the dead grandmother, out of which the pale childish face looked up with eyes unnaturally large from loss of sleep and reddened with weeping.

The warm, child-loving heart of the rich man was deeply moved, and his interest aroused in the little ones as Rosa said quickly, with a sob,

" I- need nothing; the angels will take me to grandmother. She is in heaven, and I would go to her."

Tears rolled again over her face, and she wept aloud ; nor could all her brother's consoling words and caresses quiet her. At last Fritz too began to cry.

" You say, my boy, that God's angels have cared for you while you slept ; can you not still further trust in God ? And will not Rosa also trust?" said Herr Willmers* " Surely, little ones, he helps us all and listens to our prayers."

" Is your grandmother dead too?" asked Rosa, drying her eyes. "And has God given you another?"

The Kommerzienrath answered not ; earnestly and thoughtfully he looked on the little mound at his feet. Then, with sudden resolution, he took a hand of each of the children and walked with them as he listened to their story. He accompanied them to the house in which they lived, mounted the four steep flights ' of stairs and stood with them beside the bed of the grandmother, who lay, silent for evermore, in the cold, poor little room, and yet who at this moment spoke with impressive power to the heart of this compassionate man.

"Ach, Herr!" uttered Fritz, complainingly ; " grandmother has always said God would help at the right time, and would send his messengers to all the poor ; and yesterday I thought she was right. But of what use now are the beautiful clothes? I am still more unhappy than yesterday, and I can go out to earn nothing more ; for who will stay with Rosa?"

" I will go with you, Fritz," sighed the little girl. " Grandmother has often told me we must not weep when she went to heaven, but I know I can never cease weeping — never, never more;" and again the child sobbed in a perfect passion of grief.

Frau Hanna had come in, and now wonderingly looked at the early and distinguished visitor; but her astonishment grew still greater, for she had scarcely begun her story of the sad life of the grandmother and the destitution of the children when Herr Willmers cut her short with the declaration that he would take the children to his house and care for them.

With a relieved expression, Frau Hanna clasped her hands in joyous excitement as she exclaimed,

"Is such good-fortune, then, possible? We have lived here side by side for years, and the little ones have grown into my heart ; and if I were not so poor myself, I would have already bidden them stay with old Hanna. But it must be that the blessed grandmother was right, and from this hour I will believe in her words : God forsakes not those who trust in him. Dear pious heart! you can rest in peace," she continued, and her eyes filled with tears as she drew near the bed, " for the dear God has indeed cared for your darlings. "