Abbott Jacob
Bruno
THE STORM ON THE LAKE
The philosophy of mountains, springs, brooks, and lakes.
Mountains make storms, storms make rain fall, and the rain that falls makes springs, brooks, and lakes; thus mountains, storms, brooks, and lakes go together.
Mountains make storms, and cause the rain to fall by chilling the air around their summits, and condensing the vapor into rain and into snow. Around the lower parts of the mountains, where it is pretty warm, the vapor falls in rain. Around the higher parts, where it is cold, it falls in snow.
Formation of rivers.
Part of the water from the rain soaks into the ground, on the declivities of the mountains, and comes out again, lower down, in springs. Another portion flows down the ravines in brooks and torrents, and these, uniting together, form larger and larger streams, until, at length, they become great rivers, that flow across wide continents. If you were to follow up almost any river in the world, you would come to mountains at last.
It does not always rain among the mountains, but the springs and streams always flow. The reason of this is, that before the water which falls in one storm or shower has had time to drain out from the ground and flow away, another storm comes and renews the supply. If it were to cease to rain altogether among the mountains, the water that is now in them would soon be all drained off, and the springs and streams would all be dry.
But how is it in regard to lakes? How are the lakes formed?
How lakes are formed.
This is the way.
When the water, in flowing down in the brooks and streams, comes to a valley from which it can not run out, it continues to run in and fill up the valley, until it reaches the level of some place where it can run out. As soon as it reaches that level, the surplus water runs out at the opening as fast as it comes in from the springs and streams, and then the lake never rises any higher.
A lake, then, is nothing but a valley full of water.
Of course, there are more valleys among mountains than any where else, and there, too, there are more streams and springs to fill them. Thus, among mountains, we generally find a great many lakes.
Outlets; feeders.
Since lakes are formed in this way, you would expect, in going around one, that you would find some streams flowing into it, and one stream flowing out. This is the case with almost all lakes. The place where the water flows out of the lake is called the outlet. The streams which flow into the lake are sometimes called the feeders. They feed the lake, as it were, with water.
Ponds without outlets.
Sometimes a lake or pond has no outlet. This is the case when there are so few streams running into it that all the water that comes can dry up from the surface of the lake, or soak away into the ground.
Sometimes you will find, among hilly pastures, a small pond, lying in a hollow, which has not any outlet, or any feeders either. Such a pond as this is fed either by secret springs beneath the ground, or else by the water which falls on the slopes around it when it is actually raining.
If you were to take an umbrella, and go to visit such a pond in the midst of a shower, and were to look down among the grass, you would see a great many little streams of water flowing down into the pond.
The way to note the rise and fall of water in a lake.
Then if, after the shower was over, you were to put up a measure in the water, and leave it there a few days, or a week, and then visit it again, you would find that the surface of the water would have subsided – that is, gone down. As soon as the rain ceases, so that all fresh supplies of water are cut off, the water already in the pond begins at once to soak away slowly into the ground, and to evaporate into the air. Once I knew a boy who was of an inquiring turn of mind, and who concluded to ascertain precisely what the changes were which took place in the level of a small pond, which lay in a hollow behind his father’s garden. So he measured off the inches on a smooth stick, and marked them, and then he set up the stick in the water of the pond. Thus he could note exactly how the water should rise or fall. There came a great shower very soon after he set up his measure, and it caused the water in the pond to rise three inches. After that it was dry weather for a long time, and the level of the pond fell four inches lower than it was when he first put up the measure.
Lakes among the mountains are often very large, and the waves which rise upon them in sudden tempests of wind and rain sometimes run very high.
The storm on the Lake of Gennesaret. Jesus in the ship.
The Lake of Gennesaret, so often mentioned in the New Testament, was such a lake, and violent storms of wind and rain rose sometimes very suddenly upon it. One evening, Jesus and his disciples undertook to cross this lake in a small vessel. It was very pleasant when they commenced the voyage, but in the night a sudden storm came on, and the waves rose so high that they beat into the ship. This was the time that the disciples came and awoke Jesus, who was asleep in the stern of the ship when the storm came on, and called upon him to save them. He arose immediately, and came forward, and rebuked the winds and the sea, and immediately they became calm.
The adjoining engraving represents the scene. Jesus has come forward to the prow, and stands there looking out upon the waves, which seem ready to overwhelm the vessel. The disciples are greatly terrified. One of them is kneeling near the place where Jesus stands, and is praying to God for mercy. The others are behind. They are equally afraid. The sails have been torn by the wind, and are flying away. Jesus extends his hand, and says to the winds and waves, “Peace! be still!”
The anchor of the ship is seen in the engraving hanging over the bow. But the anchor, in such a case as this, is useless. The water is too deep in the middle of the lake for it to reach the bottom; and, besides, if it were possible to anchor the vessel in such a place, it would do more harm than good, for any confining of the ship, in such a sea, would only help the waves to fill it the sooner.
Navigation of mountain lakes.
The people who live on the borders of the lakes that lie among the mountains often go out upon them in boats. Sometimes they go to fish, sometimes to make passages to and fro along the lake, when there is no convenient road by land, and sometimes they go to bring loads of hay or sheaves of grain home from some field which lies at a distance from the house, and is near the margin of the water.
Tempests and storms.
When a storm arises on the lake after the boat has gone out, the people who remain at home are often very anxious, fearing that the boats may have been overwhelmed by the waves. Over the leaf there is a picture of people watching for the return of a man and boy who have gone out on the lake. They went out in the middle of the day, and, though it is now night, they have not returned. The family are anxious about their safety, for in the middle of the afternoon there was a violent storm of thunder and lightning, with dreadful gusts of wind and pouring rain. The storm has now entirely passed away, and the moon, which has just risen, shines serenely in the sky. Still the boat does not return. The family fear that it may have foundered in the storm.
Conversation in Marie’s cottage.
The family live in a cottage on the margin of the lake. Marie, the wife of the man and the mother of the boy that went away in the boat, is very anxious and unhappy.
“Do you think that they are lost?” she said to Orlando.
Orlando was her oldest son.
“Oh no,” replied Orlando. “When the black clouds began to come up in the sky, and they heard the thunder, they would go to the shore, and draw up their boat there till the storm was over. And now that the water is smooth again, and the air calm, I presume they are somewhere coming home.”
“But how can they find their way home in the darkness of the night?” said Marie.
“There is a moon to-night,” said Marie’s father. He was an old man, and he was sitting at this time in the chimney-corner.
“Yes, there is a moon,” replied Marie, “but it is half hidden by the broken clouds that are still floating in the sky.”
“I will light the lantern,” said Orlando, “and go out, and hold it up on a high part of the shore. They will then see the light of it, and it will guide them in.”
Orlando and Bruno.
Bruno was lying before the fire while this conversation was going on. He was listening to it very attentively, though he could not understand it all. He knew some words, and he learned from the words which he heard that they were talking about the boat and the water, and Pierre, the man who was gone. So, when Orlando rose, and went to get the lantern, Bruno started up too, and followed him. He did not know whether there would be any thing that he could do, but he wished to be ready at a moment’s notice, in case there should be any thing.
Anna and the baby.
He stood by Orlando’s side, and looked up very eagerly into his face while he was taking down the lantern, and then went with him out to the door. The old man went out too. He went down as near as he could get to the shore of the pond, in order to look off over the water. Orlando remained nearer the door of the cottage, where the land was higher, and where he thought the lantern could be better seen. Marie, with her baby in her arms, and her little daughter, Anna, by her side, came out to the steps of the door. Bruno took his place by Orlando’s side, ready to be called upon at any time, if there should be any thing that he could do, and looking eagerly over the water to see whether he could not himself make some discoveries.
He would have liked to have held the lantern, but it would not have been possible for him to have held it sufficiently high.
Just at this time the moon began to come out from behind the clouds, and its light was reflected beautifully on the waters of the lake, and the old man obtained, as he thought, a glimpse of a dark object gliding slowly along over the surface of the distant water.
The boat is coming.
“They are coming!” he exclaimed. “They are coming! I see them coming!”
Bruno saw the boat too, and he soon began to leap about and bark to express his joy.
Excellence of Bruno’s behavior.
Thus Bruno always felt an interest in all that interested his master, and he stood by ready to help, even when there was nothing for him to do. It is always a source of great pleasure to a father to observe that his boy takes an interest in what he is doing, and stands ready to help him, provided always that he does not interrupt the work by asking questions. This Bruno never did. He never interrupted work in any way, and least of all by asking questions.
It is far more manly and noble for boys to take an interest, sometimes, in useful work, than to be wholly absorbed, as some boys are, all the time in idle play.
TAKING AN INTEREST
Important difference between the dog and the horse.
There is a great difference between the dog and the horse, in respect to the interest which they take in any work which they have to do. A horse does not like to work. He never runs to his master to be saddled when his master wishes to go and take a ride. If he runs either way, he runs off. If you wish any time to take a ride in a wagon, and you go into the pasture to find your horse, it is often very hard work to catch him. He knows that you are going to harness him up, and give him something to do, and he does not like to do it; so away he goes, bounding over the pasture, and looking back, first over one shoulder, and then over the other, to see whether you are pursuing him.
It is very different with the dog. As soon as he sees his master take down his hat and cane, he jumps up and runs to accompany him. He desires, above all things, to accompany his master wherever he goes, that he may protect him, and render him any other service which occasion may require.
It is true that a dog does not generally like to be harnessed into a wagon, and draw, but the reason of this probably is, that drawing a load is not a work that he is by nature fitted for. He is not properly built for such work. His shoulders are not fitted to receive a collar, and his feet are not of the right form to take good hold of the ground. The nature and qualities of the dog fit him for other duties, and these duties he is always greatly interested in performing. If his master is a traveler, he is always ready to set out on the journey with him. If his master stays at home, he is always on the watch about the house, guarding the premises, and ready to do any thing that he may be called upon to do. In a word, such duties as he is at all qualified for by his nature and habits, he is always ready to perform with alacrity and with hearty good-will.
Supposed black pony. How valuable such a pony would be.
What a fine thing it would be for a boy to have a horse of such a disposition – a little black pony, I will suppose – just large enough for the boy to harness and drive! Suppose you had such a pony. You take the bridle, and go out into the pasture for him some day when you feel inclined to take a ride. As soon as you enter the pasture, you call him. Immediately on hearing your voice, he runs out of the thicket where he was lying in the shade, and ascends an eminence near, so that he can see. He looks all around to find where the voice comes from, and when he sees you with the bridle in your hand, he immediately feels proud and happy at the thought of being employed, and he comes galloping toward you, prancing and capering in a very joyous manner.
As soon as he gets near you, he ceases his prancing, and, walking up to you, he holds his head down that you may put the bridle on. As soon as the bridle is buckled, you put the bridle-rein over his neck, and say,
“There! run along, pony!”
So your pony runs along before you, looking back from time to time, first over one shoulder, and then over the other, not to see whether you are pursuing him, in order that he may escape, but to be sure that you are following him, and that he is going the right way. When he gets to the gate, he waits till you come to open it for him; or, if he has ingenuity enough to lift up the latch himself, he opens the gate and goes through, and then waits outside till you come. As soon as you have gone through the gate, he trots off to the barn. He does not know yet whether you are going to put the saddle on, or to harness him into your little wagon. But he is equally ready for either. He looks forward with great pleasure to the thought of carrying you along over a pleasant road, cantering merrily up and down the hills; and he resolves that he will take special care not to stumble or fall with you. Or, if he finds that you prefer riding in the wagon that day, he thinks how pleasant it will be to trot along over the road with you, and give you a good drive. If you stop any where by the way, he waits patiently where you leave him until you come back again. If he is in the wagon, he stands very still, lest he should do some damage to the vehicle by moving about. If he has a saddle on, he walks out to the road-side, perhaps, to crop the grass a little while he is waiting, but he lifts up his head now and then to see if you are coming, in order that he may be all ready to go on again when you wish to go.
It would certainly be a fine thing to have such a pony as that.
How useful and valuable such a boy would be.
But for a man, it is a finer thing to have such a boy as that. I never knew such ponies, but I have often known such boys. They take a special interest and pleasure in being useful, and especially in assisting their father and mother in any thing, no matter what it is, that their father and mother wish to do. They feel proud and happy to be employed, and come always with a ready alacrity whenever they are called upon, and to do what they can do with a hearty good-will.
Georgie at the raising. The way he acted.
Boys sometimes take an interest of the wrong kind in what their fathers are doing – that is, an interest which seeks for their own pleasure and amusement, and not for the furtherance of the work. There was a farmer, for instance, once, who had two sons, Lawrence and Georgie. The farmer was building a shed, and when the shed was framed, the carpenters came one afternoon to raise it. Lawrence was away from home when the carpenters came, having gone to mill, but Georgie was very much interested in the raising, and he brought several of the boys of the neighborhood to see it. With these boys he played about among the timbers of the frame, running along upon them from end to end, or jumping over them. He made a great deal of noise in singing to express his joy, and in calling to his companions.
“Georgie,” said his father, at last, “be still, or I shall send you away.”
His father should have sent him away at once, instead of threatening to do so if he was not still.
Boring.
Georgie was still after this, for he knew that his father would do as he said; but he soon found out other means of making trouble besides noise. He and the other boys went to one of the carpenters, who was boring a hole, and he began to beg the carpenter to let him take the auger and bore it.
“I can bore,” said he.
“I see you can,” said the carpenter, “but I wish you would not come here and bore me.”
The other carpenters who were near laughed at hearing this, and Georgie, not liking to be laughed at, walked away to another part of the work. Here he began to ask questions, such as what this beam was for, and what tenon was going into that mortice, and whether such and such a hole was not bored wrong. All these questions interrupted the workmen, confused them in their calculations, and hindered the work. At last, Georgie’s father told him not to ask any more questions, but to keep perfectly still.
He and the other boys make a balancer.
His father would, in fact, have sent him away entirely, were it not that he was wanted from time to time to do an errand, or fetch a tool. These errands, however, he did very slowly and reluctantly, so that he was of little service. Finally, he proposed to the boys that they should make a balancer, and they did so. They put up one short beam of wood upon another, and then, placing a plank across, two of the boys got on, one at each end, and began see-sawing up and down. This was their balancer.
“Isn’t it good fun,” said Georgie, as he went up into the air, “to have a raising?”
“Yes,” said the other boy, who was then down by the ground.
“I hope they won’t get through to-night,” said Georgie, coming down, “and then we can have some more fun to-morrow.”
A fall.
Just then the upper beam, which supported the balancer, fell off, and the plank, with the boys on it, came to the ground. There was now a great outcry. Georgie’s father and some of the carpenters came to see if the boys were hurt. They were not seriously hurt, but the accident occasioned quite an interruption to the raising.
So Georgie’s father, finding that the trouble which Georgie made him was greater far than any service that he rendered, sent him away.
Now this is not the right way to take an interest in what your father or mother is doing.
Lawrence comes home.
Lawrence got back from the mill just as Georgie went away. He immediately came and took Georgie’s place. He stationed himself near his father, so as to be ready to do any thing which might be required whenever he should be called upon. He observed carefully every thing that was done, but he asked no questions. If he saw that a tool was wanted, or going to be wanted, he brought it, so as to have it all ready the moment it should be required. Thus, although he could not do much substantial work himself, he assisted the men who could do it very much, and rendered very effectual service, so that the raising went on very prosperously, and was finished that night, greatly to his father’s satisfaction.
Conversation at the supper-table.
At supper that night the farmer took his seat at the table. His wife sat opposite to him. Lawrence was on one side, and Georgie on the other.
“Have you finished the raising?” said his wife.
“Yes,” said the farmer, “we have finished it. I did not expect to get through. But we have got through, and it is all owing to Lawrence.”
“Did he help you?” asked his wife.
“Yes,” said the farmer; “he forwarded the work, I think, a full half hour, and that just saved us.”
Now that is the right kind of interest to take in what your father and mother are doing.
Another incident.
At another time, one night after Georgie and Lawrence had gone to bed, they heard a sort of thumping sound out in the barn.
“Hark!” said Lawrence; “what is that noise?”
Georgie said he thought it could not be any thing of consequence, and so he shut up his eyes, and prepared to go to sleep. But Lawrence, though he was equally sleepy, felt afraid that something might be the matter with one of the horses; so he got up and went to his father’s room, and told his father about the noise. His father immediately rose and dressed himself, and went down to the barn.
“Georgie,” said Lawrence, “let us get up too. Perhaps we can help.”
“Oh no,” said Georgie, sleepily, “there is nothing that we could do.”
“I can hold the lantern, at any rate,” said Lawrence, “and do some good, perhaps, in that way.” So Lawrence dressed himself and went down stairs, while Georgie went to sleep again.
Lawrence takes an interest in his father’s concerns.
Lawrence got out into the barn just in time to find that the horse had fallen down, and had got entangled in his halter, so that he was in danger of choking to death.
“Ah, Lawrence!” said his father, “you are just in time. I want you to hold the lantern for me.”
So Lawrence took the lantern, and held it while his father disentangled the halter, and got the horse up. Lawrence, who was much interested all the time, held the lantern in the best possible way for his father to see.
“That’s right,” said his father; “hold the lantern so that you can see yourself, and then you may be sure that I can see.”
That is the right kind of interest for boys to take in what their father or mother are doing.
That was, in fact, the kind of interest that Bruno took. He was always on the watch for opportunities to do good, and when he saw that he could not do any more good, he was extremely careful not to make any trouble.
Bruno sits waiting for orders.
He would stand or sit silently by, looking on and watching what was going forward with great interest, ready to act the moment that he was called upon, as you see in the opposite engraving. They are driving some sheep to pasture very early in the morning. It was dark when they first came out with the flock, and so they brought a lantern; but the sun has risen now, and it is light. Although it was very early when the men set out with the flock, Bruno was eager to come with them. He has helped to drive the sheep all the way. They have reached the pasture at last, and there is now nothing more for him to do. So he is sitting down to rest, and contemplating with great satisfaction, while he rests, the accomplishment of the work which was to be done, and ready to do any thing more that may be required without a moment’s delay.
In the distance, in the engraving, a river is seen, meandering through a rich and beautiful country, with the beams of the morning sun reflected from the surface of the water.
A good conscience.
The satisfaction which results from the faithful performance of duty is a very solid and substantial pleasure. It endures long, and has no alloy. There is something manly and noble in the very nature of it, and he who makes it the end and aim of all his efforts in his search for happiness is sure of a rich reward.
They who are not faithful in duty can never be happy.
Learn from the example of Bruno, then, to find your happiness in the diligent and faithful performance of duty. “Duty first, and pleasure afterward,” is the true rule for all. They who seek pleasure first, or, rather, who look for their happiness in personal and selfish gratifications, lead a very low and groveling life, and never exemplify the true nobleness and dignity to which the human soul should aspire. Nor do they ever attain to any real or permanent happiness. They experience a continual feeling of self-reproach and self-condemnation which mars all their enjoyments, and adds a fresh ingredient of bitterness to all their sorrows. In a word, they are always dissatisfied with themselves, and he who is dissatisfied with himself can never be happy.
