The Woodcutter of Gutech | Page 2

my cottage, I will help you as far as I can to-morrow
morning."
"Thank you," said the traveller. "I accept your offer."
"Well then, I have just made my last stroke," said the old man, lifting
up his axe. "We will load our asses and be off. We have some way to
go, as I live farther up the valley of Gutech, and even I prefer daylight

to darkness for travelling these wild paths. If you had not found me I
cannot say when you would have got out of the forest."
Without further waste of words, the old man and young Karl set to
work to load the asses, strapping on the huge fagots with thongs of
leather, while the patient animals, putting out their fore-legs, quietly
endured all the tugs and pulls to which they were subjected.
"That pack of yours seems heavy, friend traveller," said the old man,
glancing at his companion; "let me carry it for you."
"No, no! Thanks to you," answered the traveller. "I am strong and
hearty. I would not put that on your shoulders which I feel burdensome
to my own."
"Then let us put it on the back of one of the asses," said the woodcutter;
"it will make but little difference to our long-eared friend."
"A merciful man is merciful to his beast," said the traveller. "The poor
brutes seem already somewhat overloaded, and I should be unwilling to
add to their pain for the sake of relieving myself."
"Then let Karl, there, carry it; he is sturdy, and can bear it some little
way, at all events," said the old man.
"I would not place on young shoulders what I find tire a well-knit pair,"
said the traveller, glancing at young Karl. "But perhaps he may like to
get some of the contents of my pack inside his head," he added.
"Down his mouth, I suppose you mean," said the old man, laughing. "Is
it food or liquor you carry in your pack?"
"No, indeed, friend," answered the traveller. "Yet it is food, of a sort
food for the mind, and better still, food for the soul. Is your soul ever
hungry, friend?"
"I know not what you mean," answered the old man. "I have a soul, I
know, for the priest tells me so; and so have my relatives who have

gone before me, as I know to my cost; for they make me pay pretty
roundly to get their souls out of purgatory. I hope Karl there will in his
turn pay for mine when I die."
"Ah, friend, yes, I see how it is," said the traveller. "Your soul wants a
different sort of nourishment from what it ever has had. I have great
hopes that the contents of my pack will afford it that nourishment."
The traveller was walking on all this time with the old man and Karl,
behind the asses. Karl kept looking up in the former's face with an
inquiring glance, the expression of his countenance varying as the
traveller continued his remarks.
"I will not keep you in suspense any longer," said the traveller. "My
pack contains copies of that most precious book which has lately been
translated into our mother tongue by Dr Martin Luther, and from which
alone we have any authority for the Christian faith we profess. I have
besides several works by the same learned author, as also works by
other writers."
"I wish that I could read them," said the old man, with a sigh; "but if I
had the power I have not the time, and my eyes are somewhat dim by
lamplight. Karl there was taught to read last winter by a young man
who was stopping at my cottage, and whom I took in, having found
him with a broken leg in the forest."
"Oh, grandfather, why he taught you also to read almost as well as I
do!" said Karl. "All you have been wishing for has been a book in big
print, and perhaps if the merchant has one he will sell it to you."
"We will examine the contents of my pack when we get to your cottage,
my friend, and I daresay something will be found to suit you," observed
the traveller. "If you have made a beginning, you will soon be able to
read these books, and I am sure when once you have begun you will be
eager to go on."
CHAPTER TWO.

The gloom of evening was settling down over the wild scene of
mountain, forest, rock, and stream, when the traveller reached the
woodman's hut. "You are welcome, friend, under the roof of Nicholas
Moretz," said the old man, as he ushered his guest into his cottage.
Karl mean time unloading the asses, placed the fagots on a