The Young Emigrants; Madelaine Tube; The Boy and the Book; and by Susan Anne Livingston Ridley Sedgwick

S >> Susan Anne Livingston Ridley Sedgwick >> The Young Emigrants; Madelaine Tube; The Boy and the Book; and

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The little girl took from her apron, which she held up, a china cup,
broken into two pieces--"I only wished to ask you," said she, in a sad
voice, "if you can mend this cup so that the crack will not be seen."

Teuzer examined the pieces attentively, they were of fine china, and
ornamented with painted flowers. "So that one must not see the crack,"
he repeated, "it will be difficult--but we will try." So saying, he laid
the pieces on one side, and returned to his work. But the little girl,
looking much disappointed, said, "Ah, sir, have the kindness to mend the
cup immediately, I will wait until it is done."

The potter and his workmen began to laugh; "then," said the former, "you
will have long enough to wait, for after being cemented, the cup must be
baked. It will be three days before I heat the furnace again, and it
will be five before you can have your cup."

The child looked disappointed, and Teuzer continued, "Ah, I see why you
are up so early--your mother does not know that you have broken the cup,
and you wanted to have it mended before she is awake. I am right I
see--go then and tell your mother the exact truth--that will be best,
will it not?"

The little girl said "Yes," in a low voice, and went away.

Very early on the following morning the child returned.

"I told you," said Teuzer, frowning, "that you could not have your cup
for five days."

"It is not for that I have come," replied the child, "but I have brought
you something else to mend,"--and she took from her apron the pieces of
a brown jar.

Teuzer laughed again, and said, "We can do nothing with this--you think
it is china because it is glazed, but it is from the Waldenburg pottery,
and quite a different clay from ours. It would be a fine thing indeed if
we could mend all the broken jars in Dresden, we should then be soon
obliged to shut up shop, and eat dry bread--throw away the pieces,
child."

The little girl turned pale, "The jar is not ours," she said, crying,
"it belongs to Mrs. Abendroth, who sent us some broth."

"I am sorry for it," replied Teuzer, "but you must be more careful in
using other people's things."

"It was not my fault," said the child--"my poor mother has the
rheumatism in her hands, and cannot hold anything firmly--and she let it
fall. Have you jars of this kind, and how much would one of this size
cost?"

Teuzer felt moved with compassion, "I have a few in the warehouse," he
answered, "but they are three times as dear as the common ones."

He went to look for one to make a present to the little girl, but on his
return, chancing to glance into her apron, he saw a little paper parcel.
"What have you there," he asked, "coffee or sugar?"

The little girl hesitated a moment. She was almost afraid to tell him
what she had in her apron. She thought he might possibly suspect that
she had been taking something which did not belong to her. Still, she
hesitated but a moment. She felt that she was honest, and she saw no
good reason why he should doubt her honesty. So she said,

"It is seed for our canary, our pretty Jacot. He is a dear little
creature, and he has had nothing to eat for a long time. How glad he
will be to get it."

"Oh, seed for a bird," said Teuzer, slowly; and putting down the jar he
was about to give her, he returned to his work, saying to himself, "if
you can afford to keep a bird you can pay me for my goods. Yes, yes,
people are often _so_ poor, _so_ poor, and when one comes to
inquire, they keep dogs, cats, or birds; and yet they will ask for
alms."

So the little girl had to go away without the jar; however, she returned
at the end of four days for her cup. The crack could scarcely be
perceived, and Teuzer asked sixpence for mending it. The little girl
searched in her pocket, without being able to find more than four-pence.

"It wants two-pence," said she, timidly, and looking beseechingly at the
potter, who replied, dryly, "I see: well, you will bring it to me on the
first opportunity," he then gave her the cup, and she slipped away quite
humbled.

"Now I have got rid of her," said Teuzer, to his men, "we shall see no
more of her here."

But to his surprise, she returned in two days bringing the two-pence.

"It is well," said he to her, "it is well to be so honest, had you not
returned, I knew neither where you lived, nor your name. Who are your
parents?"

"My father is dead, he was a painter, we live at No. 47 South Lane, and
my name is Madelaine Tube."

"Your father was a painter, and perhaps you can paint also, and better
too, than my apprentice that you see there with his great mouth open,
instead of painting his plates?"

The boy, looking quite frightened, took up his pencil and became red as
fire, while Madelaine examined his work.

"Come here, Madelaine," said Teuzer, "and make him ashamed, by painting
this plate."

Madelaine obeyed timidly. Even if she had performed her task
badly--Teuzer would certainly have praised her to humiliate his
apprentice; but this was not the case. With a firm and practised hand,
the child drew some blue ornaments upon the white ground of the plate.

Without saying a word, Teuzer went to his warehouse, and returned with a
Waldenburg jar which he gave to the little girl. "Take it," said he, "it
was intended for you some days since. One who although so little and so
young as you are, is already so clover, can well afford to keep a bird.
If you like to paint my plates and other little things you shall be well
paid."

Madelaine was delighted, her face shone with joy; she gladly consented
to this proposal, and having thanked Master Teuzer, skipped away
carrying her jar.

CHAPTER II.

A PICTURE OF POVERTY.

Madame Tube, the mother of Madelaine, was a great sufferer from
rheumatism. Severe pain had kept her awake almost the whole night; but
towards morning a heavy sleep gave her some relief, and prevented her
hearing the crowing of a cock in a neighboring yard, which usually
disturbed her: Madelaine, however, heard it well, and making as little
noise as possible, she rose from her miserable bed.

It was still quite dark in the little room, yet as Madelaine was very
tidy, she easily found her clothes, put them on quickly, and going very
gently into a narrow yard in front of this wretched room she washed her
face, hands, and neck, at the fountain. Perceiving on her return that
her mother still slept, she knelt down and repeated her morning prayer,
with great attention, then taking up the stocking she was knitting,
worked diligently at it until the daylight came feebly in at the little
window, when, putting her knitting aside, she lighted the fire in the
stove and began to prepare breakfast.

"The smoke suffocates me," said Madame Tube, as she awoke coughing.

"Good morning, dear mother," said Madelaine affectionately, "the wood is
damp and the stove full of cracks, but I will try if I cannot stop the
smoke." She then took some clay which she had ready wetted in a broken
cup, and endeavored to stop the large cracks in the stove, which was of
earthenware.

"Raise me a little," said the mother. Madelaine hastened to her--she put
her arms round the child's neck, who had to exert all her strength to
raise her. Madame Tube, whose constant suffering had made her fretful,
said, in a complaining tone, "Where does this terrible draught come
from, is the window open there?"

Madelaine examined it: "Ah," said she, "the rain has loosened the paper
I had pasted to the broken pane, I will cover it up." She then placed an
old oil painting against it, which looked as if it had often served the
same purpose.

"Is the coffee ready?" asked Madame Tube.

"Very soon," replied Madelaine: "only think, dear mother, I have had
some very good beef bones given to me, with which I can make you some
nice soup, and the cook at the hotel has promised to keep the
coffee-grounds for me every day, so we can have some _real_ coffee
this morning, instead of the carrot drink."

"But why are you going about without shoes," said her mother to
Madelaine, "you will take cold on the damp stones? Why do you not put on
your shoes, I say?"

"Do not be angry, dear mother, I must be careful--the soles are already
thin, _so_ thin--like paper."

"Alas! what will become of us?" said Madame Tube.

"Do not fret, dearest mother, I can already earn a little at good Master
Teuzer's, and besides, God who is so very good will not abandon us."

"It is true," replied the mother, "but we have waited long."

"When the need is greatest, help is nearest," rejoined Madelaine.

"Is Raphael not yet awake?" asked Madame Tube.

Something was at this moment heard to move in the dark-corner behind the
stove, and soon after a little boy, half-dressed, came out softly, and
feeling his way. Madelaine advanced towards him, and kissing him with
much affection, said, "Good morning, my Raphael."

The little boy returned her caress, and then asked anxiously, "What is
the matter with Jacot? he does not sing!"

"It is too dark still," said Madelaine, "he is not awake."

Madame Tube said, in a displeased voice, "Yes, yes, his bird makes him
forget every thing, even to say good morning to his mother."

"Do not be angry," answered the little boy as he approached the bed, "I
did not know that you were awake, dear mother, and I dreamed such a sad
dream--that some one had taken away our Jacot--and I was so _very_
unhappy, forgive me, dear mother"--and saying this, he kissed her
affectionately.

Meanwhile Madelaine had placed the mended cup and two others upon the
table--then taking from her basket a penny loaf, she said, smiling, "The
baker at the corner gave me that yesterday evening, because I helped his
Christine to sweep the shop. It is true it is rather stale, but we can
soon soften it in our coffee--and I have milk too, we want nothing but
sugar."

She drew the table close to her mother's bedside, and the little family
ate their poor breakfast with pleasure.

Take example from them ye rich ones of this world, who when you have
every luxury spread before you, are nevertheless often dissatisfied.

Madelaine, joyous from the consciousness of having done her duty, amused
even her suffering mother by her prattle. Thus the time passed quickly
by, when suddenly a beautiful canary, yellow as gold, roused himself in
his narrow cage and sent forth a loud and melodious song.

"Jacot, my Jacot!" cried Raphael, delighted.

His mother said, "The bird recalls us to our duty,--_he_ praises
his Creator before he breakfasts"--and with a weak and trembling voice
she began, "May my first thoughts on this day be of praise to thee, O
Lord!" Kneeling down, the two children joined her as she repeated her
morning prayer, with deep devotion.

At last it grew light in the little room. Madelaine took a needle and
thread and began to mend her frock. Raphael felt about for a heap of
little pieces of silk, which he began to unravel. Both children were
silent, for their mother had taken up a book. After about an hour thus
spent, a loud knocking was heard at the door, and almost before
Madelaine could say "Come in," the door opened and a man entered, who
was so much surprised at the darkness of the room, that at first he
could see nothing. Looking quite embarrassed, he asked, "Is it here that
Madame Tube lives?"

"Ah, it is good Mr. Teuzer, mother, who has come to see us," said
Madelaine, joyously.

Madame Tube tried, but in vain, to rise to salute him. As for Raphael,
he ran to hide behind the stove.

"Well," said Master Teuzer to Madelaine, "I thought you were very ill,
for I have not seen you these four days. Where have you been?"

Madelaine looked quite astonished, and said, "I have been at your house,
sir, and told your apprentice to excuse me to you, because my mother had
a fresh attack of rheumatism, and could not spare me."

"What a naughty boy, he has never told me one word of it. When I go home
I will punish him severely. This then is your mother? She suffers from
rheumatism, you say? Sad malady! but this room is a perfect dungeon,
enough to kill a strong man. Poor people! The stove smokes,
too--wretched stove that it is, made before the flood, I should think. I
must speak to the landlord; it is inexcusable to let such a hole for any
one to live in."

Whilst examining the stove, Master Teuzer had almost fallen over
Raphael, who was sitting behind it unravelling some pieces of silk:
"What!" he exclaimed, "some one else? My little fellow, you will lose
your sight in this Egyptian darkness."

Madelaine sighed, and Madame Tube said in a voice of deep grief, "He has
lost it already."

Teuzer started! "Bl--blind, did you say?" he stammered, and quite
shocked, he led the poor boy to the light--"Look at me, my child," he
said.

"I cannot see you," spoke Raphael, softly as he turned his blind eyes
towards Teuzer.

There is something very touching in such a look. Teuzer was deeply
moved, and turned away as if to examine the stove but in reality to hide
the tears which filled his eyes--"What a misfortune," he said at last,
"and you have not told me of this, Madelaine. Has he been long blind?"

"Since his second year," replied Madame Tube.

"How did it happen?" asked Teuzer.

"We do not know; we perceived it when too late to have anything done;
and in a short time he became quite blind."

"My boy," inquired Teuzer, "do you remember anything of the brightness
of the sun, the blue of the sky, or the face of thy mother?"

Raphael shook his head slowly, and with a pensive air.

"You know nothing, then, of the beauty of the spring--the colors of the
flowers--the whiteness of the snow--the--?"

Here the mother made a sign to Master Teuzer, who, seeing the boy look
very sorrowful, ceased his lamentations, and said, "What is there, then,
that gives you pleasure, my poor boy?"

Raphael's face brightened up, as he answered,--"Oh! I am very happy when
my mother is pleased with me--when Madelaine caresses me--and when I
hear my Jacot sing."

Teuzer reflected a moment--"You are happier, although blind, than
thousands who possess all their faculties. You can hear the kind and
gentle voices of your mother and sister--can tell them of your wants and
sorrows--sure of finding affection and sympathy in their hearts. Compare
yourself, then, my boy with those less happy than yourself; but above
all, raise your heart to Him who has promised to be a Father of the
fatherless, for he will never forsake you." Thus saying, he slipped some
money into Raphael's hand, and took leave of the poor family, who
blessed this benevolent man.

CHAPTER III.

UNEASINESS.

Soon after the departure of Master Teuzer, the landlord arrived: he
spoke roughly to the poor woman. "How is this? How dare you send that
potter to me? Did I force you to take this room? If it does not suit
you, why do you not leave it? The stove has lasted for thirty years, and
I certainly shall not buy a new one for you."

On hearing these invectives, Raphael had hidden behind his mother's bed.
Madelaine trembled, and dare not pronounce a word. But Madame Tube,
extending her hands and trying to rise, cried, "Oh! Mr. Duller, I am
quite innocent; I never thought of complaining of my room; I know but
too well that poor people cannot expect to lodge like princes. Master
Tenzer has been used to better stoves, but I am contented if the tiles
do not fall upon our heads."

These words softened the landlord a little. "If it is so," said he, "I
shall know how to treat this Master Tenzer if he comes again to meddle
with things which do not concern him; he preached me a sermon upon your
misery, and on the duty of assisting so poor a family. I am satisfied if
he chooses to help you, for I shall have the better security for my
rent. I have also called to inform you that an inspector of the poor
will call to inquire into your circumstances. I know they are none of
the best; but do not let him see the canary-bird, for then he will do
nothing for you. But stay--the bird pleases me, I will give you
half-a-crown for it--you had better sell it, for then you will have one
less to feed."

At these words, Raphael could not conceal his grief--his sobs were heard
from behind, the bed--but the hard-hearted landlord took up the cage, as
if the matter was settled.

Madame Tube, moved by the grief of her blind child, answered in a
decided tone, "No, Mr. Duller, I will not sell the bird, it is the joy
of my Raphael; only think what it is to be _blind_--to see nothing,
absolutely nothing, of the beautiful creation of God! All creation, all
the riches of nature belong to those who see; as for the blind, their
enjoyments are only those passing ones of taste and harmony. I can give
nothing but dry bread, potatoes, and water, to my blind child--the song
of his bird is his only enjoyment. Be comforted, my Raphael," she said,
turning to the weeping boy, "I will not sell your favorite."

"As you please," rejoined the landlord angrily; "my intention was good,"
and muttering to himself, he went away.

A few hours afterwards, a man knocked, and announced himself as the
inspector. He found the situation of the family truly miserable;
inquired into all their circumstances, and satisfied himself that their
distress was not occasioned by any misconduct on their part. But the
bird was again the stumbling-stone. He said he could not consent to give
the money subscribed for the poor of the town to those who would spend
some of it in buying seed for a canary-bird. All that he could do was to
get Madelaine admitted to the free-school. Since her husband's death,
Madame Tube had been unable to pay for sending her little girl to
school, so she was much pleased at this offer, and thanked the inspector
cordially. From that time Madelaine went to school, but gladly availed
herself of every holiday, to go to paint at Master Teuzer's.

Several months passed away, and Christmas was approaching; but with that
period came more trials to the poor family. Their rent would then become
due, and Madame Tube, owing to her long illness, had been unable to earn
anything towards it. What little Madelaine gained at Teuzer's, was only
sufficient to buy food of the poorest description. The severe season had
added much to their sufferings; and they looked forward with great
anxiety lest the landlord should turn them out in the snow, if they were
unable to pay him.

Master Teuzer was preparing for the approaching Christmas fair a great
quantity of little articles for children. This gave Madelaine plenty of
employment; and thus, those things which would contribute to the
amusement of other children, were to her a source of gain, and of the
purest and best gratification, for she hoped to earn enough to pay her
mother's rent. With this view, she devoted her mornings to working at
Master Tenzer's, instead of going to school. Her absence would, no
doubt, have been excused, had she gone to her teacher and mentioned the
reason of her staying away, but by neglecting to do so, Madelaine
committed a fault, the consequences of which were very serious.

CHAPTER IV.

CHRISTMAS GIFTS.

The most diligent and best conducted children of the free-school
received rewards two days before Christmas, in the large schoolroom,
where numbers of ladies assembled, bringing different gifts for the poor
children, and rejoicing at the sight of their happiness. Madelaine knew
that she should not be of the number of those who received rewards, for
she had not been long enough at school. She felt no envy or ill-temper
on this account, but wished greatly to see the other children enjoying
themselves; and in the afternoon she said to her brother, "Come, my
Raphael, let us go to the fair together, and afterwards to the school;
it is not good for you to sit in the house always, and although you
cannot see, yet you can hear the sound of happy voices, the bells of the
sledges, the hymns of the children, and then I will describe to you
exactly all the beautiful things in the booths, the wind-mills that turn
round, the rocking-horses, the gingerbread men, and quantities of other
pretty things. Come, my Raphael." His mother also encouraged the poor
boy to go with his sister; so having washed his face, neatly parted his
hair, and arranged his poor but carefully darned clothes as tidily as
possible, Madelaine took his hand, and led him out. The cold air brought
a slight color into his pale cheeks, and the cheerful sounds raised his
spirits, a contented smile lighted up his features, which generally wore
an expression of suffering. He listened with pleasure to the animated
descriptions of his sister, and willingly agreed to accompany her to the
school. As they approached it, a long procession of happy-looking
children passed them; several of those in Madelaine's class nodded to
her, and one of them separating herself from the others, ran up to
Madelaine, and said hastily, "Is it true, Madelaine, that you have
stayed away from school without leave for six days? An apprentice told
our teacher, and he is very angry with you."

Madelaine was going to explain, but the little girl had joined her
companions. She felt much grieved, and longed to be able to tell all to
her teacher; she looked up anxiously at the high windows which were now
lighting up brilliantly. Numbers of people were arriving on foot, and in
carriages, hastening in to witness the happy scene. She only, with her
poor blind brother, was rudely pushed back by the guards. Poor Raphael
began to feel the cold painfully, and Madelaine perceiving that his
hands were benumbed, untied her apron, and rolled them up in it.

Seeing this, a poor fruit woman, whose stall was near, said, "You are
almost frozen, my poor children; why are you not at the school fete?
This poor boy has no warm socks; come here, my child, warm yourself at
my stove."

Madelaine thanked her, and led her brother to the stall. The woman was
struck by this, and asked, "Can he not see plainly?"

"He cannot see at all," answered Madelaine, sighing, "he is blind."

"Unfortunate child," said the fruit-woman, and looking around her for
something to please him, (for the compassion of the poor is often active
and thoughtful,) she put a hot baked apple into each of his hands, "this
is good both for cold and hunger," she added, "may God give you a happy
Christmas." Madelaine received a similar present, and the two children
went away, after having thanked the kind woman cordially.

The numerous lights suspended across the windows of the school,
continued to illuminate the dark street. Presently the sound of several
hundred young voices was heard, at first very softly, then swelling
louder and louder, as they joined in singing the praises of their
Heavenly Father, who, by the gift of his Son, has offered salvation to
the children of men. Then the eyes of the blind boy filled with tears of
joy, and he raised his heart in gratitude and praise to the Saviour of
sinners. "Listen," said he, in a low voice, as if afraid of disturbing
the sound, "listen, Madelaine, is it not like angels singing their
hallelujahs around the throne of God? Oh, that I could fly to heaven,
far, far, above this earth!"

"And leave mother and me here below," replied Madelaine, reproachfully.

"No, no," said Raphael, quickly, "I should come back very often to see
you and mother."

"But she will be uneasy about us now," said Madelaine, "so come, let us
return home, and think no more of flying. The children have done
singing." They returned home, and related to their mother all that had
passed. Raphael dreamed only of angels singing, and being in heaven.
Thus he was happy at least in his sleep.

CHAPTER V.

HAPPINESS DESTROYED.

Early the following morning, which was the day before Christmas-day,
Madelaine went to Master Teuzer's to assist in carrying his wares to the
fair. She had already made several turns from the warehouse to the
marketplace, when Teuzer's apprentice said to her, with a malignant joy
which he could ill conceal, "Hark, a policeman is coming to seek you."
Madelaine was greatly frightened, she thought of her absence from
school, and of what her school-fellow had said to her. "To ask for me?"
she stammered, turning pale.

"Yes," replied the boy, "and he said he would be sure to find you."

And this proved but too true, for the next time that Madelaine arrived
with her basket full at Teuzer's stall, she found a policeman waiting
for her. "Put that down" he said gravely, "and follow me."

Madelaine trembled so violently that she was unable to obey, and the
woman who kept the stall for Master Teuzer, and the policeman, were
obliged to support her. "But," asked the former, "what has the poor
child done to be arrested?"

"She will soon know," replied the other, as he led Madelaine away. She
walked beside him in silence, her head hanging down, for she felt too
much ashamed to raise her eyes; but she became still paler, and a
torrent of burning tears ran down her cheeks when she heard harsh voices
saying, "She is a thief: so young and already a thief." Even the
policeman now felt pity for her grief, and to turn her attention from
the remarks of the passers by, he said to her, "Your teacher has
reported you for being absent from school six days without leave. Is it
your mother's fault? for in that case you are free, and I must arrest
her."

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