Chapter II: Hira's Friend

HIRA had a friend, though even that fact she did not attempt to put into words, but merely accepted. She could not remember the time when Sukhiya had not come to her uncle's house to sell butter and milk. She was a kindhearted woman with an empty place in her heart which had been left desolate, as one by one her ten children had pined away and died. That had happened ten years ago now, but she still wept when she spoke of it. It was just after the tenth had gone the way of all the rest that Hira was born, and her mother died.

The heart of the mother with no children went out to the child who had no mother, and whenever she went to the house to sell her milk, she used to ask after the little one, who looked so small and frail that even with the best of care it seemed unlikely that she would ever live to grow up. But in spite of the fact that none cared whether she did or not, as we know, Hira did live, and if her life had brought little happiness to herself, at least it had been a comfort to the childless mother.

It may have been partly owing to the kind woman that her life lasted so long, for many and many a time had a brimming saucer of milk or cream found its way out of Sukhiya's basket and helped to feed the blind child.

Hira had not always been blind, but when she was three years old, like so many other children in India, she had a severe attack of inflamed eyes, and because no one took the trouble to see that they were properly treated, Hira had to pay the penalty and spend her life in the dark.

Before this happened, and as the sad fact began to dawn upon Sukhiya that she would never have other children than the ten who had been born only to die, she sometimes cherished the secret hope that the motherless child might be given to her. But now she had to give up any such ambition, for she knew her husband would never consent to her taking charge of a blind child, from whom they could never expect to gain anything, and who might always be on their hands.

Nevertheless, she did what she could for the child, who often used to follow her from house to house, as she went on her rounds, and sometimes spend many hours in her little hut beside her.

Whenever the child was missing, it was easily guessed where she was, and sooner or later she would be sure to be brought back. Although Hira seldom talked to anyone else, she had always plenty to say to Sukhiya, who never wearied of listening to the child's prattle. All her knowledge of the world in which she lived had come to her from this source; even the red sari, which she wore on the roof that memorable evening, had been a present from this faithful friend.

Now that Hira was growing up, she was not allowed as much liberty as she had had as a very small child, but still she and Sukhiya found plenty of opportunities for meeting.

After the evening of the strange Englishman's visit, the blind child waited anxiously for the coming of her friend, who would be able to explain the wonderful event, and answer the many questions which were puzzling her little brain. Several days passed, and when she did not come, Hira determined to go in search of her. By asking her way, she could easily find the house, as she had often done before; so, when no one was looking, she slipped out of the door and was gone.

Sukhiya was lying on her bed, groaning with fever, but as soon as she heard the blind child's voice asking, "Is there anyone here?" she forgot all her aches and pains and was on her feet in a moment, opening the door for the child, who for her meant all she knew of love and happiness.

A long story had to be told of the illness which had prevented Sukhiya going on her usual rounds, of the pain in her head which kept her from thinking, and the pain in her back which kept her from walking. In time, however, all was explained, and then came Hira's turn, and this is the story which was told:—

"I was sitting on the roof, trying to see some of the things you tell me about so often, and listening to all I could hear, but it was so still, just like it is at night when everybody is asleep. All at once I heard something I have never heard before; how shall I tell you what it was like? It was someone singing, only it didn't make my head ache, or want to shut up my ears, like I do when they grind and sing. This time I wanted my ears to be open quite wide so that I might hear every bit, and when it stopped, I felt so sad, I almost cried."

"But who was it, child? And what did he sing?" asked Sukhiya.

"How can I tell you?" answered the child. "The singer I could not see, and what he sang I could not understand; only two words he sang many, many times, and so they are written on my heart. 'Jesus Christ' was the sound; perhaps they were English words, for I heard it said that he was an English gentleman, but I want to know why he sang so many, many times those words, 'Jesus Christ.' Can you tell me what they mean? Or if not, can you find out?"

"Jesus Christ? Yes, child, those are no new words. I have heard and known them for many years, for that is the name of Him whom the English worship. It must have been an English gentleman who sang that day, but it is strange he should have come into these parts, for I have never seen one here, though I have in other places. It comes to me now the very first time I heard that name. I had gone to a house to sell butter, and while I was sitting there waiting, an English lady came in, for there was a girl in the house she was teaching to read.

"That day she was out, so there was no lesson given, but the lady said, 'I will tell you all a story.'

"So we gathered round, and then she told how one day a blind man was sitting by the roadside begging, and Jesus Christ came along. When the blind man knew who it was, he called after Him, and would not be quiet any way. By-and-by, he came up to where Jesus Christ was standing by, and as soon as He touched his eyes, he could see quite plainly."

"Oh, Sukhiya," cried the child plaintively, "why did you never tell me this before? If Jesus Christ gave new eyes to a blind beggar, I am sure He would to a poor little girl like me. How could you be so unkind as never to tell me? And now perhaps He has gone a long way off."

The woman looked distressed at the child's grief as she answered, "Why, little one, Jesus Christ is not here. How do I know where He is? That is the story the lady told. I expect it is only a story, and perhaps Jesus Christ is only just a name, and not any real person."

But the child was not to be so easily satisfied. "Promise me," she said, "that you will find out where Jesus Christ lives, and then that you will take me to Him. Just think if I had eyes like other people, and didn't have to sit in the dark all day and all night—oh, how glad I would be! Say, quick, that you will find out."

Sukhiya was willing to say anything to pacify the child, and she promised that as soon as she was well, and able to go about again, she would find out all she could.

Then Hira went back to her story, and said, "But I haven't told you all about that gentleman and what he said. When he had finished singing, he called out in a loud voice, so that all could hear, 'Prepare to meet thy God.'

"What did he mean? Is God going to come here, or is He going to send for us to go where He is? And how does He want us to get ready? I have been thinking and thinking ever since, but I don't know any better, so I came to tell you, for you must find out for me.

"When I ask my aunt she says, 'It will be time enough for you to learn about the gods when you are married.'

"But who will marry a blind girl?"

Sukhiya looked puzzled as she said, "Little one, why do you think about such things, such as never come into the thoughts of other children? It is enough for us to think of what we shall eat and wear, and how we are to get enough pice to keep us alive. It is for Brahmins and pundits to think about God: don't trouble your little head any more, and I will buy you a new doll to play with."

"But, I don't want a new doll," cried the child petulantly; "I want to know and understand, and there is nobody to tell me but you."

"And I am only a poor ignorant woman, who understands nothing but how to sell milk and butter, and count up pice. Yes, there is one other thing: I know how to weep, but maybe I have cried away all my tears, for they do not come as they used to. Now, child, my head and back are aching."

And not feeling inclined for any more talk on deep subjects, the woman lay back on the bedstead on which she had been lying when the child came in.

Hira said nothing, but sat on for a while in perfect silence, which was only broken by an occasional groan from the woman as she turned restlessly on her bed.

Presently she stood up, "I am going now," she said, "and remember you have promised to find out about Jesus Christ for me—and oh, do be quick and take me to Him, for I am so tired of groping in the dark."

"Yes, child, I will remember, and as soon as this pain in my head and back gets better, I will find out all I can. Take care how you walk, and don't forget to turn the corner."

The child groped her way out at the door, as the woman muttered to herself, "Poor little one, she is always thinking how she can get out of the dark, but I fear neither Jesus Christ nor anyone else can give her new eyes." Then the blind child was forgotten in the woes of a bad attack of fever.

A WET DAY.

BY CATHARINE SHAW.

WHAT a day! The rain kept on steadily pouring down. Mrs. Rolle looked out on the rather dingy street in which she lived, and saw the settled look of the weather, and she sighed. For she knew that people would "do without" to-day.

And then the school children! Instead of their racing to her shop and standing, to peep in at her glass door and perhaps enter and buy, they would hurry by beneath their umbrellas (if they had any); and perhaps they would run home another way and spend their pennies elsewhere!

She descended to her tiny back parlour and her solitary breakfast, and though her bullfinch warbled a sweet song of praise, she failed to notice him, but went on with her gloomy calculations of how near rent day was, and how little she might expect in to meet it.

So she pushed aside her plate and cup, and instead of tidily washing them and putting them away, as she usually did, she went into her shop and sat down to wait for customers.

Again and again she counted her payments, again and again she thought of her bad trade, till her heart quite died within her.

Suddenly she raised her head.

She had forgotten in her pressure of spirit to read her daily portion ere she began her day's work. She put her hand slowly and hesitatingly beneath the counter, and felt on the usual shelf for her Bible. Yes, there it was, and to her surprise open in the darkness.

Now she remembered she had been reading yesterday when a customer came in, and she had popped it beneath in a hurry. Her eyes fell upon the open leaf, and as if the words were written for her and for no one else, she read one startling line—

"My people shall be satisfied with My goodness, saith the Lord."

Her heart leapt up with sudden rejoicing faith. "It is 'His' goodness I am to be satisfied with!" she murmured, while her eyes dimmed with penitent tears. "Why am I wanting earthly things so ardently, and forgetting that what He sees best He will give?"

She pressed her lips to the words, and closed her Bible. Then she sat on, and in humble, gentle whispers she told the Lord all her cares—all about the rent day, all about the slack trade, all about the weary dropping rain.

All day she sat quiet and waited. "My people shall be satisfied with 'My' goodness," she repeated again and again.

Just as she was shutting up the shop for the night, the postman passed across the street. He thrust a dripping letter into her box, and passed on.

The letter was from an old friend, whom she had supposed dead, inclosing a cheque which would keep her far from want for many a long day.

"I 'was' satisfied with His goodness," she said humbly, as she lay down in her bed, "and I said, 'The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want!' It was just like Him to send me this."

"What Doest thou here, Elijah?"

HERE is a man sitting in a very bare place, where there was no water and no food, and he was all tired out.

Now, God knew all about Elijah: he was God's servant, and loved Him very much, and God was taking care of him all the time.

King Ahab was a very wicked king, and his wife, Jezebel, was more wicked still. She hated Elijah, and made up her mind to kill him, because he had been sent by God to destroy the wicked priests of the idol Baal whom Jezebel worshipped.

So Jezebel sent word to Elijah that she would certainly kill him before to-morrow.

Now, as I said, Elijah was a very good man, and had served God very faithfully, but just now he was tired out.

So when Queen Jezebel sent him that message, Elijah forgot about God taking care of him, and he ran away as fast as he could into the wilderness, and there, when he thought he was far enough off to be safe from Jezebel, he threw himself down on the ground and asked God that he might be allowed to die.

Poor Elijah! So as he sat there in the wilderness, so tired that he wished to die, his eyes closed, and he fell asleep.

As he lay and slept, God sent one of His angels to him, and the angel touched him and told him to get up and eat.

Perhaps Elijah's first thought was that there was nothing to eat there in the wilderness. But when he opened his eyes, to his astonishment he saw by his side a cake of bread and a bottle of water!

So he ate and drank, and laid himself down again to sleep.

By-and-by, the angel came again and touched him, and said to him, "Arise and eat; for the journey is too great for thee."

See how God cares for His children, and how He knows whether things are too hard for us.

So Elijah ate and drank again, and then being wonderfully strengthened and rested, he rose up and went a very long journey till he came to a cave in a mountain-side, where he stopped a little time, still fearing that Jezebel would catch him and kill him.

And then the word of the Lord came to him again, and said to him, "What doest thou here, Elijah?"

Then Elijah told the Lord how he had tried to serve Him, and how Jezebel had killed numbers of the Lord's prophets, and that he feared he was the only one who was left, and that soon she would kill him.

Then the Lord told him to stand outside the cave while He passed by. And there was a great earthquake and storm, and then a very gentle voice, and the Lord asked him again: "What doest thou here, Elijah?"

And when Elijah told the Lord again that he feared Jezebel would kill him, the Lord sent him to give two very important messages for Him, and assured him that He could take care of him, saying He had still seven thousand faithful ones who loved Him, who were being kept as safe as He would keep Elijah.

HIRA'S QUEST.