VALDEMAR'S GRATITUDE. 591 PART I. VALDEMAR'S GRATITUDE. IN THREE PARTS. A ha ha! give him another, lads; What fun! Look how angry he is; and yet he does not dare to fight." These exclamations came from the lips of a group of Polish peasants. A few moments before, an old man, of that peculiar cast of feature and submissive manner which would have sufficiently pointed out his origin if his costume had not done so, was walking, with his head bent, and his eyes humbly turned to the ground, along a narrow street in the quaint old town of Warsaw. His hair was long, and had been black, his eyes were bright and piercing, but with a restless frightened expression often to be observed among the Jews in those times; for so strong was the prejudice against God's scattered people only as long ago as the end of the eighteenth century, that even the peasants considered them a fair object for their jokes and ridicule. The humble air of the poor old man, and his shabby robes, suggested a poverty which the Jews made it a practice to pretend. But even had he appeared rich, his being not only a Jew, but a Russian Jew, would have been sufficient to excuse his tormentors with many of their countrymen. The lads had been dashing pails of cold water, that they had been procuring for their horses, over him a very foolish joke, you will think, and certainly singularly inappropriate to the weather, for, though it was Easter Monday, the frost showed no signs of breaking. A bright sun shone on the scene, but the wind was cuttingly cold, and swept the fine frozen snow in the old man's eyes, flapped the skirts of his robes, and buffeted his bowed shrinking figure most mercilessly. At last, driven to desperation-for the street was narrow, and he could not pass his persecutors-he turned upon them with a vindictive, but helpless anger, that added greatly to their amusement. When he began threatening them, the hated sound of the language of their tyrannical oppressors turned what had been meant half in joke, into angry earnest, and the peasants began, having exhausted their supply of water, to close round him and beat him with their whips and fists. Fortunately at this moment a lad of about fourteen appeared on horseback, and rode almost over them before they were aware of his presence. "Shame on you, cowards! So many against one weak old man! What's it all about?" he exclaimed, angrily, reining up his horse, and lashing the lads' shoulders with his whip. "We were only joking with the Jew fellow, master,” replied one of them, sullenly, rubbing his shoulder, "and he turned on us like a boar at bay." "Is this a time to choose for joking, dogs?" asked the boy, indignantly, "after the massacre only a fortnight ago of so many of your countrymen? Go every one of you to his duty, and be thankful if my father do not hear of this, for if he did you would be soundly chastised." Although much older than he, the young men slunk obediently away without a word (for it was their master's son who spoke to them), and the lad turned to the Jew. He immediately began pouring out a torrent of thanks in Russian. "I do not understand you," said the lad, frowningly. "You are very welcome to my assistance," he continued, when the other, following his example, addressed him in French; "and in case of any of these fellows setting on you again, I will see you safely as far as I can "A thousand thanks, and may the blessing of God rest upon you," returned the Jew, bowing profoundly. "Tell me," said the lad, as he walked his horse along the narrow street, "how did your quarrel begin ?" "I was walking peacefully along," returned the Jew, "thinking of weighty business matters, when I felt a quantity of cold water fall on my head and shoulders. I turned round, and perceived them in the act of repeating the insult, and begged them to desist, but they then began beating me. May their homes be desolate!" "Of course it was very wrong of them," said the lad, trying to suppress a smile," but I can explain something that may excuse them a little. If you were not a stranger you would know that to-day it is a custom to throw water at everybody for fun. I had a good wetting myself this morning," and the lad laughed merrily at the remembrance, "but," he continued, "I cannot wonder at their conduct if you addressed them in the hateful language of those cowardly Russians." "I could speak no other, my master," replied the Jew, submissively, "but French, and the ignorant scoffers cannot understand that." "That is true," replied the lad, "but can you wonder that every Pole hates the sound of Russian, more than ever after the cowardly massacre a fortnight ago?" "No; but these peasants cannot be expected to understand anything about honour," replied the lad. "You must not judge the Poles by them. Although an unfortunate people, we are always ready to help the weak and oppressed, if possible." The boy spoke proudly; and with an air of decision and thoughtfulness beyond his age, he continued in the same tone, "We are a merry people, too, and forget our troubles perhaps too soon." "If all your countrymen think as you do," said the Jew," they are a noble people." "They are brave enough, as everybody knows," returned the lad; "but here I must leave you; you are not far from your friends' quarters." "Before we part," replied the Jew, "if you will condescend to tell me the name of my preserver, I may, perhaps, in these troubled times be of some use. And be sure," he continued, "if I find any means of showing my gratitude, you shall not find me backward in using them." "My name is Ladislaus Wrinolski, and my father owns the third estate as you pass along the road leading from Warsaw." He gave this information entirely from politeness, but he could not restrain a smile at the absurd idea of a Jew being able to help them. This expression was not lost upon his companion, who exclaimed, "You doubt my power to be of servíce to any one, but I have a strong hold on many of my friends, as you call the Russians, although they, as others, despise our persecuted race." Seeing the boy did not know what to answer, the Jew continued, "May I ask how it is you are alone in the town at such a time? His companion replied, with a saddened face, "My married sister is very ill, she has lost her husband, and I came to inquire after her, as my father could not." "You will be impatient to return, then," replied his companion; "but first let me tell you my name. It is Valdemar Ishmanoff, in case you should want me. May God repay your kindness!" With a courteous gesture of farewell, Ladislaus shook the bridle, and trotted quickly away. A few minutes' walk in the opposite direction brought the Jew to a bridge, under which ran the waters of the Vistula. He crossed it, and entered the Praga, or New Town, which presented a strong contrast to that part called the Old Town, which he had just quitted. There the streets were narrow and mean-looking; the houses chiefly of wood, with straw-covered roofs. Here the streets were wide and handsome, and many of the houses were built of stone, with some little pretension to architectural beauty. There was, however, an air of desolation in the place that made it miserable enough. Scarcely any one was to be seen, except now and then a stupid, half savage-looking soldier at his post; many of the double windows of the houses were broken, and they themselves seemed deserted. Valdemar turned into one of the least-frequented of these streets, and stopping at a house, knocked two or three times with clenched hand at the door. After a few moments there was a sound like the lifting of bolts, the door opened, and he entered (To be continued.) "THE QUIVER" BIBLE CLASS. 216. Where do we find a king addressing the priests, and urging them to greater diligence in their work? 217. Why was it that Solomon did not allow his wife, the daughter of Pharaoh, to dwell in the house of his father David? 218. Why was it that Moses was not permitted to enter the promised land? 219. Our Blessed Lord says, in Matthew vi. 33, "Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and His righteousness; and all these things (food, raiment, &c.) shall be added unto you." Quote some passages from Old Testament teaching the same truth. 220. Quote passages which show that snakecharming is a custom of very ancient date. 221. What does St. Paul say will be the punishment of those who "obey not the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ ?" slain in the midst of the seas (Ezekiel xxviii. 8). 204. Hanani, by Asa, King of Judah (2 Chron. xvi. 10). Micaiah, by Ahab, King of Israel (1 Kings xxii. 27). Jeremiah, by Zedekiah, King of Judah (Jer. xxxii. 2, 3). 205. More than forty. (Acts xxiii. 21.) 206. "The queen of the south shall rise up in the judgment with this generation, and shall condemn it: for she came from the uttermost parts of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon" (Matt. xii. 42). 207. St. Peter in his Epistle. (2 Peter iii. 13). 208. Zedekiah and Ahab, whom the king of Babylon roasted in the fire. (Jer. xxix. 22). 209. Marcus, sister's son to Barnabas. (Col. iv. 10.) 210. "I know thy works, and where thou dwellest, even where Satan's seat is: and thou holdest fast my name, and hast not denied my faith, even in those days wherein Antipas was my faithful martyr, who was slain among you, where Satan dwelleth" (Rev. ii. 13). 211. First, by causing a fleece of wool to be wet with dew while the ground was dry; secondly, by causing the fleece of wool to be dry while the ground was covered with dew (Judges vi. 36-40). For thus doth the strongest passion move: It binds with golden bands Hearts whom a ruthless fate has thrown In earth's far-distant lands. Sir Hubert, wrought by his spirit, thus "In battle my arm hath proved its might, "But never again in the tented field Shall my helmet proud be seen, If thy heart refuse my proffered love And he who had conquered oft in war For their troth was plighted beneath the stars Once more to the East Sir Hubert went, GOLD IN THE SKY. "C CHAPTER XX.-BASIL COMES BACK. likely to be provided for her, for Basil had at all times been kind and polite to her. Gwendoline was despatched to inform her father of the unexpected arrival of the guest. The Doctor opened the door in answer to her tap. "Papa, papa, Basil has come! he is down-stairs; mamma said I was to tell you; and he is going to of "hope" it is always possible that miracles may happen; accordingly she looked out for the postman's visit the next afternoon and even-stop!" ing, but he brought, as yet, no answer to her letter. She bade her mother good-night, got her candle, and ascended the stairs, and was just meditating her usual soft tap on the door of Claude's room, to inquire of the nurse or her father how he appeared to be, and whether she could be of any service, when a certain crashing of the gravel of the drive fell on her ear. She paused a moment on the stairs to listen. Probably it was some one sending a carriage to fetch the Doctor in haste, a not very unfrequent occurrence; but a second thought, however, caused her to fly rapidly up the three remaining stairs, past Claude's room door, into another room which commanded a front view. In that one throb of pleasure with which she had recognised Basil Crawford all anger and bitterness had fled and disappeared. Her wishes and desires were evidently still all-powerful with him-he had come at the first sound of her call. She had descended so rapidly that, by the time she had reached the hall-door, it was still closed, and the servants had not yet made their appearance, so she pulled back the handle, and opening the door wide, she cried, "Basil! Basil! I am so glad to see you!" He stepped briskly into the warm well-lighted hall, feeling all the old hearty warmth of her tone, and all the genuine rejoicing of her greeting. The very sight of her gladdened him, and he scarce knew what he said as he came in from the cold. Mrs. Majendie was very much surprised, not only to receive a visitor, but to perceive who the visitor was, at that late hour. However, she was not sorry on the whole to find that some amusement was The Doctor observed the bright joyous expression of the girl's face, and he asked himself was it always as joyous as this, or did it especially strike him as such now, in contrast to the trouble and anxiety with which he was surrounded in that sick room. "I will come and see him presently; do not make a noise "- and then the door was shut in her face. She had, however, given one glance round the room, and noted Cyril in an arm-chair, with his head thrown back, and fast asleep. His face, tanned by sun and air, was now of a paler hue than it usually wore; the expression, too, of his face had visibly changed; it was difficult to comprehend how a few weeks of anxiety could have made so much difference in his appearance. The bed still kept its position near to the blazing fire, but a thick curtain kept the light from the face of the sick man. The nurse was sitting reading in a chair by the bed-side. With this picture of the sick-room in her mind, Gwendoline's steps were slower as she re-descended. The Doctor found time, ere long, to leave his patient, and come and welcome his guest. His words were few, but he was genuinely pleased to see him, and there was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he said, "Well, young man, who invited you to come? what brings you?" "He knows we are always pleased to see him," interrupted Mrs. Majendie, saving him the trouble of answering. I have just been asking him why he never came at Christmas." "Should have been only too delighted to come at Christmas," said Basil, “but-I was busy." "Indeed! That is a good hearing from Puss and GOLD IN THE SKY. Boots," laughed the Doctor. "Really busy-honest, unmistakable work?" "Unmistakable," was the answer. "I have two first-rate cases coming on, and perhaps several more to come," "Well done!" cried the Doctor, cheerily, forgetting, perhaps, for the first time, all the trouble which surrounded him. He remained down-stairs, and supped with them, and all things went so pleasantly and brightly, that Gwendoline said to herself it was just what she had foretold, that the clouds seemed to lift from the first moment that Basil entered the house. It now remained to prove what more he could do. The house was in a certain state of confusion, there were so many comers and goers in it. The London doctor had gone again, but Cyril Egerton was nearly always there, night and day, and now Basil Crawford had added to the inmates; and he felt that he ought to do something to show himself worthy, just then, of a place in the crowded household. The next morning he had a tête-à-tête with Gwendoline over the breakfast-table, when she was more fully enabled to enter into details than she could do by letter. He had already seen Cyril Egerton, having met him accidentally in one of the passages, on his way down to breakfast. The change in his appearance had been noted by him, and his manner of greeting had made some impression on Basil, but he readily understood that manner when Gwendoline told him that since he had found out what was being said of him, even by his friends, he had become morose and silent, avoiding every one, when possible, and difficult to deal with in every way. 595 But this telling of it varied somewhat from previous recitations, inasmuch as Basil Crawford had so many questions to put-very unexpected ones-which followed one another very rapidly, and for which he expected a ready answer. Both concurred in the opinion that Mr. Merton and Jem Sawyers had done more actual service than any one else had done, and had seen more of the terrible realities of that time than any one else. Accordingly he set off for the keeper's lodge. Before he had got half-way there he met Merton, with his gun swinging round his shoulder, and the certain easy uprightness of carriage he had, his leathern gaiters, his healthy-looking face, which so oftentimes had impressed Basil Crawford with a feeling that it must be a pleasant berth to be head gamekeeper to a rich country gentleman. To judge from all appearances, Merton looked upon the estate as tantamount to being his own property, and it was always said that when he met any one on foot on the premises, he looked at them with an air which questioned their right to be there or to exist at all. Basil Crawford was aware of this, and although he was not too fond of Mr. Merton, he knew he must be propitiated, and of old he knew that a little flattery went a long way with this gentleman. Mr. Merton condescended to be propitiated, and was easily led into a long discourse on the all-absorbing topic, but he only heard from him over again what he had heard from Benson and Mrs. Clark. Mr. Merton, however, fully concurred in the praise rendered by them to Mr. Jem Sawyers, who in his opinion was a clever, deserving young man; the only pity was that his time was just up, and in a few days more he would be leaving them, preparatory to his "What is to be done, Basil? Can you suggest?" journey to Australia. she ended by saying. Basil could, for the present, suggest no remedy, but undertook to go out and about, and see, and hear, and learn all that he could, before he finally answered her question. Basil Crawford got his hat and overcoat, after breakfast, and prepared to go out. Gwendoline, in full curiosity as to what would be his first move, questioned him as to where he was going, but he answered her, saying he really did not know himself —“probably everywhere-possibly nowhere." This was unsatisfactory, and she watched him go, feeling that the house had lost interest without his presence, and, moreover, she had failed to ask him at what hour he would return, and to tell him to mind and be back by luncheon-time. "First to the fountain-head," thought Basil Crawford; and with his hands in the pockets of his overcoat, he trudged steadily uphill in the direction of the Hall. He saw both Mrs. Clark and old Benson, and had a long talk with them, and induced them to go over again the oft-repeated account of Christmas Eve. "He did more work than all the whole lot of us," Mr. Merton wound up by saying; "and if ever a man deserved a helping hand that young fellow does. My missus is at home mendin' up his bits of things the best she can for his journey, but it's little enough he has to take with him. I intend to make bold and ask Mr. Cyril to assist him with a trifle, which will help him on his way a bit.” Basil Crawford expressed a desire to see this individual, to whose merits all alike seemed eager to testify. You shall see him, sir, you shall see him!" said Mr. Merton, gratified at the effect his words of praise had produced; "not that he is much to look at; no, I can't say he's very much to look at, neither," he added, as if in an afterthought; "but he did work when there was work to be done." Basil Crawford asserted, as was expected of him to do, that this was in every way most satisfactory and to the point; he agreed to accompany Mr. Merton to the lodge, where this desirable gentleman would probably be found. However, the journey was for nought so far as |