It was a cold blustery day in December. Most boys and girls like cold snowy days, but Charlie and Muriel liked summer much better, for their clothes were so few and so thin that the cold winds chilled them right through.
Charlie was eleven years old and. Muriel was eight. As our little story opens, Charlie is hurrying along the streets of the city of New York, leading little Muriel by the hand. Turning down a side alley, they entered a house that was in such dreadful condition that you would surely think nobody could live in it.
“Charlie, is it you, my son? Come here, dear.”
Leaving Muriel to warm herself by the tiny stove, Charlie went over to his mother’s bed.
“What success—no work yet?”
“No, Mother, none. Muriel and I have walked for miles and tried many places but it is no use. We must starve— or beg.”
“Did you go to see the persons who advertised in yesterday’s paper?”
“Yes, Mother, we called on every one but they all had boys already, and we went from store to store until we were both tired. Then we heard some singing so we went in to a little meeting house to get warmed. The preacher was telling the people to throw their bread in the river, or on the water, or something like that, and all the people said ‘Amen’ just like as if they were going to do so just as soon as they got home. But I just shook my fist at him under the seat ‘cause he might have told them to give their bread to poor people.” Here the rebellious tears sprang to his eyes, while his mother drew him to her.
“Hush, my son. You did not understand him—God does not like a rebellious heart.” Then she explained to him as well as she could the meaning of the Bible text, “Cast thy bread upon the waters.”
Little Muriel had listened carefully, both to the preacher and to her mother, and her childish heart took the message quite literally.
Quietly she stepped over to her mother and asked,
“Mother, does it mean that it will come back after a while with a big lot of bread?”
“Yes, dear, it means that what we give to the Lord will be given back many times over.”
Muriel said nothing but was quiet and thoughtful the whole afternoon.
Toward evening Charlie made a cup of tea for his mother—the last they had. After that each had a small slice of bread which left just one more slice in the cupboard, and no money to buy more.
After Charlie had gone out again to look for work, Muriel quietly took that last slice of bread from the cupboard and slipped out of the house.
This was her first venture onto the streets alone very far from home. She began to wonder where the river was, so she stopped a kind looking gentleman and asked him,
“Please, sir, is the water near here?” “Do you mean the river, my dear?” “Yes, sir.”
“It is quite a distance away. What takes such a little girl to the river on such a cold day? Hadn’t you better go home?”
“No, sir. I roust throw this bread in the river first, so we will get more.” Then she walked bravely on in the direction which he had pointed out for her.
The gentleman stood thinking. What could that dear little child mean? He decided he must follow her at a distance and see what she was going to do.
Muriel finally arrived at the river, and walked quickly out to the end of a wharf. The gentleman hid nearby behind some boxes, and watched to see what would happen.
The little girl pulled the bread from, her pocket and with a trembling voice began:
“Please, God, this is all the bread we’ve got and we must do without for breakfast but if it isn’t too long until the bread comes back, maybe Charlie can find some work and buy a little more. Please send it to Muriel Horn in Thomas Alley. Amen.” Then she threw the bread into the dark river.
ML 06/11/1950