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قراءة كتاب Joseph in the Snow, and The Clockmaker. In Three Volumes. Vol. I.
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Joseph in the Snow, and The Clockmaker. In Three Volumes. Vol. I.
JOSEPH IN THE SNOW,
AND
THE CLOCKMAKER.
BY AUERBACH.
TRANSLATED BY LADY WALLACE.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
LONDON:
SAUNDERS, OTLEY, AND CO.,
66, BROOK STREET, HANOVER SQUARE.
1861.
LONDON: PRINTED BY W. CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET,
AND CHARING CROSS.
JOSEPH IN THE SNOW.
CONTENTS OF VOL. I.
Epitaph
CHAPTER I.
Is it not yet Morning?
CHAPTER II.
A Duet interrupted, and resumed
CHAPTER III.
A fierce Family
CHAPTER IV.
Martina's return Home
CHAPTER V.
A Day of Trouble
CHAPTER VI.
How a village Pastor was summoned to Court
CHAPTER VII.
The Home of Schilder-David
CHAPTER VIII.
Warm and snug in the Parsonage
CHAPTER IX.
Betrothal and Flight
CHAPTER X.
A Father in search of his Son
CHAPTER XI.
The Village Church deserted
CHAPTER XII.
Where is Joseph?
CHAPTER XIII.
A Troop of Hobgoblins
CHAPTER XIV.
Lost in the Forest
CHAPTER XV.
A Child seeking his Father
CHAPTER XVI.
Asleep and awake again in the Forest Mill
CHAPTER XVII.
A great Event in a small House
CHAPTER XVIII.
For the sake of the Child
CHAPTER XIX.
A Voice at Midnight
CHAPTER XX.
Daylight
EPITAPH.
"Here lies a little child, lost in the forest deeps.—
At midnight from the slumbering fold he strayed;
But the lost lamb was found by One who never sleeps,
And to his everlasting Father's fold conveyed."
These lines are written on a small cross, in the churchyard of the village where the scene of the following simple story is laid. This mournful inscription would have been applicable once more, if a merciful Providence had not watched over Joseph. He retained however through life the appellation of "Joseph in the Snow," for being lost in the storm was the cause of his eventual good fortune, and of his rescue from destitution and misery.
JOSEPH IN THE SNOW.
CHAPTER I.
IS IT NOT YET MORNING?
"Mother, is it morning yet?" asked the child, sitting up in bed.
"No, not nearly—why do you ask? Lie still, and go to sleep."
The child was quiet for a short time, but then repeated in a low voice:—
"Mother, is it morning yet?"
"What is the matter, Joseph? do be quiet—don't disturb me, and go to sleep. Say your prayers again, and then you will fall asleep."
The mother repeated the child's night prayers along with him, and then said, "Now, good night, Joseph."
The boy was silent for a while; but on hearing his mother turn in bed, he called to her in a whisper, "Mother!"
No answer.
"Mother! mother! mother!"
"What is it? what do you want?"
"Mother, is it not daylight yet?"
"You are a naughty child; very naughty; why do you persist in disturbing my night's rest? I am weary enough, for I have been three times in the forest to-day. If you wake me up again, the Holy Child will bring you nothing to-morrow but a birch rod."
The boy sighed deeply, and said, "Good-night, then, till to-morrow," and wrapped himself up in the bed-clothes.
The room where this dialogue took place, was small and dark; an attic under a thatched roof. The panes of glass in the little window were frozen over, so that the bright moonlight could not penetrate through them. The mother rose, and bent over the child; he was sleeping sound, and lying quiet. The mother, however, could not go to sleep again, though she had once more laid down and closed her eyes; for we can hear her saying distinctly, "Even if he some day asks me to share his home—and in spite of everything I firmly believe he will one day do so—he cannot do otherwise—he must—but even then, how cruelly he has slighted both me and our child! The years that are passed come no more: we can have them but once in life. Oh! if I could but begin life again; if I could only awake, and feel that it was not true, and that I had never sinned so heavily! but the weight of one sin is a burden for ever; no one can bear it for another. Can it be true that I was once so gay and happy as people say? What could the child mean by calling out three times, Is it morning yet? What is to happen in the course of this day? Oh, Adam! Adam! you don't know all I suffer; if you did, you could not sleep either."
The stream that ran past the house was frozen over, but in the silence of the night, the gurgling of the water was heard, under the covering of ice.
The thoughts of the wakeful woman followed the current of the brook, in its distant flow, when, after traversing pathless valleys and deep ravines, its course was checked by the forest mill; the waters rushing, and foaming, and revolving over the mill wheels, just as the thoughts of this watchful mother revolved dizzily on her sorrows at dead of night. For within that mill dwells the dreaded object on whom the eyes of Adam's parents were fixed. The forest miller's Tony had always been thought a good-hearted, excellent girl, and yet now she seemed so cruel:—what has the forest miller's daughter Tony to do with you? you have no claim on her—but on him? on Adam? The sleepless girl clenched her hands convulsively; she felt a stab in her heart, and said, in a voice of anguish, "Can he ever be faithless to me? No, he could not; but if he dared to desert me, I would not suffer it; I would go to