IT is a true saying that, "People keep with people, and mountains with mountains." How one person gets used to another you can scarcely believe until you have seen it yourself. What is it that draws one to another? Long lived our three comrades with Bacha Filina without Palko, and nothing was lacking, but now if a day passed without seeing him it seemed as if they could not stand it. Though it may seem strange, Bacha Filina would have missed him most. Wherever he went, whatever he did, he always had in mind the moment when the bushes parted on that beautiful Sunday afternoon, and, like a picture in a frame, stood the strange boy so clean and neat with his cape over his shoulder, small hat in his hand, resting his hand on a shaggy white dog. It would truly be a fine picture for a painter to paint in those wide mountains, if he could but make it so true to nature—you could not look at him enough. And he remembered again how Palko sat with them in front of the but with the Holy Book in his hand, reading word for word, chapter for chapter. Such beautiful and good things. So must Jesus have looked when He sat amongst the Jewish teachers. Oh, how did he understand the Word of God! No sermon had moved old Bacha as did the talks of Palko the boy, though he had heard many in his life. Bacha had a whole Bible which he read sometimes on Sunday. He had also a big book with sermons, but since the time that Palko Lesina came every evening to them it was as if a veil had been removed from the man's eyes. The Bible became to him the living Word of God.
"The Lord Jesus used to walk by the Sea of Gennesaret," said the boy seriously. "Now He walks through these mountains of yours. Sometimes He passed through our mountains to seek us, and now He seeks you."
Again it was Sunday. Filina got the boys ready to go to church, but he himself remained in front of his hut. Fido who was not permitted to run with the comrades, lay at his feet. Suddenly he pricked up his ears, jumped up, and like an arrow flew into the nearby thicket. Bacha paid no attention. He sat with his head bowed down. He did not even hear someone speak to the dog, nor hear any greeting; he did not arouse himself till he heard close to him the pleasant young voice which he loved so much.
"Good morning, Uncle Filina. Why are you so sad and so lonely? Where is everybody?"
"Welcome, Palko," gladly replied the man. He held out his brown hand to the boy. "If I had known you would come, I would not have sent the boys to the church. Everywhere is the house of God. And I suppose you are bringing the Bible, about which you spoke yesterday?"
"Yes, I do. My father went away for a few days. He asks you kindly if you will let me stay with your boys that I may not have to stay alone in the hut. Will you take me?"
The beautiful eyes of the boy gazed longingly on the face of the man.
"Why, surely. We will be only too glad if you stay with us," answered Bacha. "But why did your father go home?"
"He went with some wood. He could not take it all at once. The balance we shall put on a float, and so carry it to our destination. Thus I could bring the Bible to show it to you."
"Is that the one from Pastor Malina?"
"Yes, Uncle, and I esteem it very much. There are many notes in Latin which I do not understand, and also some in Slovak. When I look at the writing I see the pastor in front of me. I would like to show you what he wrote the last Sunday when he became so seriously ill. Do you have time for it, Uncle?"
"Oh, yes, my son; it is Sunday. Just read on."
"You will understand it better than I because you are older. There is something very good: 'I have missed very much; my whole life is wasted,' began the boy, and his voice sounded so solemn, almost as if he were reading the Word of God. " 'Even though I would, I cannot improve anything. It is too late; it is too late! Souls passed into eternity—it may be I did not bring salvation to them. They never come back that I may ask them forgiveness and love them. Oh, how glorious are the words, 'By grace ye are saved . . . it is the gift of God.' In this holy gift I take my refuge, my holy God and Saviour. I know that You have pardoned me and have even taken the punishment that I merited on Yourself. I cling to Thy cross; I fall at Thy wounded feet, and thank Thee—Oh, so thank Thee; yes, I will praise eternally Thy holy name, O Jesus!" read Palko.
"Thus believed Pastor Malina . . ." but the boy stopped because the Bacha sat with his head bowed down, and cried aloud.
" 'Even if I would, I couldn't make anything good. It is too late. The souls went on to accuse me,' " he repeated in his crying. "That is what is pressing me down to the ground, and all my good life since that time doesn't help anything.
The boy rested his curly head in the palms of his small hands.
"Uncle, will you not tell me what is worrying you so much? It could not be the sin that you wanted to drown your Stephen, as Petrik told me?"
"Stephen didn't drown. I, when something is pressing me, confess it and feel easier at once."
"The Apostle James says, 'Confess your sins one to another.' It is true I am only a boy, but I know already how the soul and the heart ache —and there is no comforter. But the Lord Jesus will grant it to me that I may be able to understand and to help you."
The man looked at the boy. He stroked his whiskers. "If I have to tell somebody about it as I have wished for years, it will suit me best to tell it to you. The Lord God gave you more wisdom than me, an old man, just as Samuel the boy had more than the old priest Eli."
Bacha strode over to his stump where he usually sat. Palko lay beside him on the grass. He drew the Bible near him, and laid his hand on the head of Fido who cuddled close beside. Thus he waited patiently.
"Since Petrik told you what kind of a boy I was, I do not have to retell it again," began the man presently. His whole appearance did not fit into that beautiful Sunday morning.
"Thus we both grew up, and I can say with a good conscience that Stephen and I loved each other very much. I could never forget that he did not tell our parents how I forsook him in his plight. He convinced me that our parents loved us both. All was well now and might have remained so always, had not mother after her sister's death brought to us her niece, Eva. She was a small beautiful girl. From the beginning she seemed to be afraid of me, but with Stephen she was at once friendly, until I once saved him from vicious dogs. From that time she clung always to me. Thus it was as we grew up together, and after we were grown up. You cannot understand more now, therefore I can only tell you this much. When we became young men, there was no more beautiful girl to us in the whole wide world. It seemed to me that her black eyes shone brighter than all the stars, and that such lilies and roses as were on her face did not bloom on any bush. At that time there was a large immigration to America. Many times I wondered how people, just for the sake of mammon, could go so far into the world when in spite of our poverty it was so beautiful and lovely here. To me, the woods and meadows were like a paradise and in my heart all was song—like the heavens; but there is no paradise upon this earth and the heavens are too high. Once when I returned from work—it was already evening—mother and father sat in front of the house in consultation about us children, as they often did. I did not want to disturb them, therefore I sat down not very far away and listened."
"Do you think, then," said mother, "that one of the children will have to go to America?"
"You see, my wife, there the people achieve something quicker than we do here. We suffer bravely and yet barely live," sighed father. He was a good man but already worn out by hard labor.
" 'And which one do you think should?' mother asked with a sigh.
" 'That we will leave for them to decide. I think thus: Let one stay at home and take Eva for his wife, so you have some help. Let the other one go to America for a few years, and after he has made some money and God granting that he will return safely, then they may live together. I would not like that after our death they should be separated. It is well for them to be together.'
"I noticed how mother gave a sigh of relief, but to me it seemed as if someone stuck a dagger into me. They surely expected me to go. Stephen would remain at home and take Eva. That night I did not sleep at home. A similar trouble overtook me as in my childhood, only stronger and much more terrible. Where I gathered strength to return in the morning I do not know. Eva ran to meet me, and as soon as I saw her I told myself that verily, I would never go to America, and Eva must never belong to anyone else but to me. Since that hour I could hardly give a kind look to Stephen though he gave me no reason for anger.
"We had a meadow beyond the swamp. There I went with Eva the next day to turn over the cut grass, and I asked her to be mine. I did not have much luck at first, but since I pleaded so much and promised so much, she finally promised that she would not take anyone else.
"After the affair was settled, Eva bound up a bundle of grass, and looking around I noticed Stephen departing along the pathway. He had heard us without us noticing him.
"The following week we had some work in the city and Stephen said that he would go. Mother tried to prevent him. She had rather I should go because Stephen did not look very well. Really he looked thin and pale, as if after a serious illness or before one. But I insisted that I would not go this time, and father agreed. He had some work for me.
" 'Come with me part of the way,' said Stephen the following day, after he had taken leave of our parents and Eva. So I went. We took the steep path to the cross above, on top of the hill. There he stopped. We looked at each other.
" 'Mother told me what plans father had for us. One of us must go to America,' he began. 'It cannot be you. I saw you and Eva not long ago on the meadow. Father wants one of us to take Eva. Now that she is yours what should I do here any longer? Once before in childhood I was in your way, so that you wanted to get rid of me in that black watery grave. The second time I shall not stand in your way. It would be difficult for mother to part with me. You must realize that, because she has only me. So I want to spare her the leave-taking, but I want to tell the truth to you that you may be satisfied and not begrudge me anything more. I am really leaving everything to you: parents, home, and Eva too. She cannot belong to both. Those were hard moments for me on yonder meadow. If you had to bear what I went through in those moments you could not stand it. Thus it is good that she chose you. To me it was as if I was drowning again, only the swamp into which you threw me this time was much deeper than the one before. Mother said I seem to be ill. Here I shall never get well—over there far away, I can recover sooner. I give you my hand in parting, and you give me yours without any bitterness. Let us part like brothers.'
"I clasped his hand silently. He took his things, then ran down along the path into the thicket. Bending over beside the cross I tried to see him once more—and I did. He lifted his beautiful face marked with deep sorrow toward the valley where he could see our but for the last time. Suddenly tears gushed from his eyes. I wanted to make a step forward, wanted to call him back, to leave everything to him, and I go to America. But there was no strength in me. So I let him go for ever. We never saw him again."
Bacha cried aloud again, and Palko with him.
"Uncle, tell me all, to the end," he begged after a while. "Then what about his poor mother? How did you tell her about it?"
"I didn't have to tell her, my boy," said Filina as he calmed down. "He took care of all that. Mother had a distant relative who came to us the third day and brought everything that Stephen should have brought from the city; also a letter from him, wherein he begged our parents not to be angry with him because he was thus leaving for America. In that letter he again made no mention that it was I who drowned him in the depths of sorrow. It was a very beautiful letter. We treasured it as a keepsake, and when mother was dying the poor dear asked me to have it placed in her coffin. I endeavored to make good to her the son she lost. After father passed away, mother blessed me many times for the good care she enjoyed, but it did not bring peace to my heart.
"The distant relative who brought to us Stephen's letter intended to go to America himself. He had already bought the ticket, when circumstances hindered him from going. He complained to Stephen that he could not go, and Stephen asked him to sell the ticket to him. He borrowed some money from him on his part of the inheritance. This we had to repay later, because that ship never reached its goal. It sank in a storm. Thus you see, Palko, that after all, I had drowned my brother. If he had not run away from my presence he might have found another girl and could have lived till today. Thus he died, and his death accuses me before God's face for my selfishness. Verily, God's punishment came upon me soon. I enjoyed my happiness but a short time. From the time that the message reached us about the sinking of the ship, Eva just pined away, and after the death of our son, she died. In her fever, not knowing what she said, she told how she loved Stephen, and I realized that her longing for him made her perish by my side. Well, now they are both gone and I only am here—all alone."
"And your son, where is he?"
"Him also the good Lord took. When his mother died there was no one who could give him the necessary care. He took cold, and in three days he was also with God. Now I have told you everything, my boy. I have confided all to you, but you do not understand."
"Do not think that I do not understand, Uncle. I know that your heart is sad because of the injustice Stephen suffered because of your envy. I know that you have sinned grievously. Why could you not like the priest, Malina, grasp the cross and the feet of Christ? You understand, in the Spirit, by faith, and receive the gift of God—salvation. There further is this quotation: 'Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief,' and here again it is written, ‘It seems to me I am the one, the most sinful of the sinners, but I believe, I believe, O Lamb of God, that Thou hast died for me also, and I am casting my heart at the foot of Thy cross, that Thy blood may cleanse it also.' "
"I see there are very good things written there, Palko. Leave this book with me for some time that I may be able to read it at leisure, and see if also on me the Son of God will have mercy and forgive my grievous sins. Now continue to read where we left off last time."
"Now I will also bring the song-book and we shall have a song. This will be our Sunday worship." Bacha brought the book and they had a lovely time in worshiping God. Christ came to them through His Spirit and made the Word of God living, to the young soul who walked with Him continually like Enoch, and also to the one who could say, "I have gone astray like a lost sheep; seek Thy servant" (Ps. 119: 176) .