Eric and his friend, meantime, were making preparations for their journey, and as soon as their horses could be got ready they rode off. They were, however, seen by Dame Margaret, who immediately suspected where they were going. Unfortunately, Father Nicholas had just then entered the Castle. She forthwith told him all she knew and thought, and urged him to find a quick messenger, who would outstrip the young men and warn the lady abbess. Father Nicholas hurried off with a purse which the lady put into his hand, to find a person to carry his message, resolving to take the credit to himself of the information he was sending.

Ava Lindburg and her companions in the monastery of Nimptsch were eagerly awaiting the reply to the letters they had written to their homes requesting permission to return. They were all young, and several of them pretty; but as they had been among the most sincere of the sisterhood, so they had the most rigidly performed all the fasts, penances, vigils, imposed on them, and already the bloom of youth had departed, and the pallor or the ascetic had taken its place.

Poor girls! they had sought peace, but found none; they desired to be holy, but they had discovered that fasts, penances, and vigils—the daily routine of formal services—long prayers, oft repeated, had produced no effect; that their spirits might be broken by this system, but that it could change their hearts.

"We are shut out from the great world, certainly," wrote one of them, "but we have one within these walls, and a poor miserable, trivial, life-frittering, childish, querulous, useless, hopeless set of inhabitants it contains. This is not the house of Martha, and Mary, and Lazarus—this is not such an abode as Jesus would desire to lodge in. If He were to visit us, it would be to tell us to go forth into the world to fulfil our duties as women, not, like cowards, to shrink from them, to fight the good fight of faith, to serve Him in the stirring world into which He came, in which He walked, in which He lived, that He might be an example to us. Though He has not come to our convent, He has sent us a message full of love and compassion—His Testament, the Gospel—and it has given us fresh life, fresh hopes, fresh aspirations; and through its teaching we are sure of the Holy Spirit which He promised. Other books have been sent us to assist in opening our eyes. We are convinced that this mode of life is not the one for which we were born; that it is a life, not of holiness, but of sin, for it is useless, for it is aimless, for it is against the teaching of the Gospel."

The answers came at length. Tears flowed from the eyes of some, sobs burst from the bosoms of others, while several turned paler even than before, and their hands hung hopelessly by their sides. Many of the letters were full of kind expressions, while other parents chided their daughters harshly for contemplating the possibility of breaking their vows, and abandoning the life of holiness to which they were devoted; but one and all wound up by declaring that they would not allow such a stigma to rest on their noble families as would arise were they to encourage a daughter to abandon her holy calling. Little Ava received no answer to her epistle sent by the colporteur, and she was eagerly looking out for his return. He had told her how eagerly her father had bought his books, and she had still some hopes that the reply would be favourable. She could not, however, fail to observe the severe look with which the lady abbess regarded her, and she was still more alarmed when she found that her Testament, and several books by Drs. Melancthon and Luther, had been taken out of her cell. In truth, the lady abbess had received the communication sent by Father Nicholas, and was on the watch, expecting to see the gay young student, Eric of Lindburg, and his companion arrive, intending afterwards to commence a system of severe punishment on the offending Ava. The lady abbess was not aware that Ava was only one of many whose eyes had been opened, and who desired their freedom.



CHAPTER SEVEN.

One bright afternoon, in the month of May, 1524, a light waggon, driven by a venerable-looking person with a long white beard, stopped before the gate of the convent of Nimptsch, and from out of it stepped a merchant of equally venerable and still more dignified appearance. He begged the portress to present his humble respects to the lady abbess, with a request that he might be allowed to offer for sale to the noble ladies numerous articles which they might find acceptable. The lady abbess, having carefully surveyed the venerable merchant and his driver through a lattice above the gate, was satisfied that they might, without danger, be admitted into the court-yard. The horses were, however, somewhat restive, and it required, evidently, all the strength the old driver possessed to keep them quiet while his master took out his bales and boxes, and conveyed them, with somewhat feeble steps, into the room were strangers, such as he, were received. An iron grating ran across it, within which the nuns were collected; but there existed a small window, through which articles could be handed for inspection.

The merchant evidently understood the tastes and requirements of nuns. There were silks for embroidery and gold-thread, and beads, and pencils, and brushes, and colours for illuminating missals, and paper and writing materials, and various manufactures for making artificial flowers; he had even spices and mixtures for making confectionery. There was linen also, coarse and fine, and all the materials of the exact hue required by the sisters for their dresses; indeed, it would have been difficult to say what there was not in Herr Meyer's waggon which the nuns could possibly require. The price, too, at which he sold his goods was remarkably low, and the nuns of Nimptsch were not at all averse to making good bargains. Unfortunately, however, he discovered that he had only brought specimens of many of the articles. His large waggon he had left at Torgau. He would, therefore, take the orders with which the holy ladies might honour him, and return next day with the goods.

The merchant, Herr Meyer, was better than his word, for he returned the next day not only with the articles ordered, but with many other curious things, which he had brought, he said, for the inspection and amusement of the ladies, and the servants and attendants in the house; the good portress especially was remembered. There were carriages and animals which ran along the ground by themselves, and a house in which a door opened, when out of it came a cock which crowed, and then a small bird came out of an upper window and sang, and then a woman looked out to ascertain what the noise was about. Numerous toys of a similar character the merchant had brought, he said, from Nuremburg.

Meantime the horses in the waggon became very frisky, the merchant, therefore, went down, with most of his boxes to help quiet them, he said, leaving the abbess and her nuns busily engaged with the toys; the portress, too, was still watching the cock coming out of the house and crowing, and the bird singing, and the woman looking out to see what it was all about.

"These horses will be doing some mischief, Karl, if they stay shut up in this court-yard," exclaimed the merchant. "I will open the gate, and then if they choose to gallop off they will soon get tired, and you can come back for me and my goods."

Suiting the action to the word, he undid the bars of the gate, and Karl drove through, pulling up, however, directly he was outside. The portress ran out, for such a thing as allowing a stranger to open the gate was against all rule.

"Stay, I have some more curious things," said the merchant. And he stepped into the waggon.

Just at that moment something must have startled the horses, for they set off at full speed, the driver in no way attempting to stop them. The lady abbess and the nuns looked out through the bars of the windows, expecting to see Herr Meyer, after his horses had had a good gallop, return with the other curiosities he had said he possessed. They looked and looked, but they looked in vain. At last they came to the conclusion that some accident had happened. For this they were very sorry, as they all agreed that a more pleasant-spoken, liberal merchant they had never seen. The opinions, however, of the lady abbess and some of the elder sisters were somewhat modified, when at vespers, as all the nuns were assembled, Sister Ava, and another young and pretty nun, her great friend, Sister Beatrice, were missing. They were not in their cells. The whole convent was searched; they were not to be found. Never had there been such a commotion among the authorities and elder sisters, though most of the young ones took the matter very quietly, and did not search for what they knew well was not to be found. Remembering the warning she had received, the lady abbess had a strong suspicion that Eric Lindburg was at the bottom of the matter. This was only the beginning of her troubles. Somehow or other, fresh heretical books were introduced into the convent, and the young nuns had so completely mastered the contents of those of which they had been deprived that they were able to discuss them and explain them to the elder sisters. Even the abbess herself could not answer many of their arguments which they boldly put forth, nor indeed could the father confessor, nor the other visiting priests. Of the last one heartily agreed with them, and the others boldly acknowledged that there was a great deal of truth in what they said. Gaining confidence, nine young ladies at last united to support each other, and positively refused to attend mass or any services when adoration was paid to the Virgin Mary or to the saints, and demanded that as their vows were taken in ignorance, and that as they were directly contrary to the Gospel, they should be released from them, and allowed to return into the world to fulfil their duties as virtuous women and citizens.

Those in authority were astonished and utterly confounded, and hesitated to take any harsh measures. Public opinion they well knew outside the convent walls ran pretty strongly in favour of the nuns' opinions. As their friends would not receive them at home, the young ladies resolved to repair in a body to some respectable place with order and decency. Through some means their resolution was made known to two pious citizens of Torgau, Leonard Koppe and Wolff Tomitzsch, who offered their assistance. "It was accepted as coming from God Himself," says an historian of that time. Without opposition they left the convent, and Koppe and Tomitzsch received them in their waggon, and conveyed them to the old Augustine convent in Wittemburg, of which Luther at that time was the sole occupant.

"This is not my doing," said Luther, as he received them; "but would to God that I could thus rescue all captive consciences, and empty all the cloisters. The breach is made."

Catharine Bora, who afterwards became his wife, found a welcome in the family of the burgomaster of Wittemburg, and the other nuns, as soon as their arrival was known, were gladly received in other families of similar position. It may here be remarked that the facts of the case completely refute the vulgar notion, put forth by the enemies of the Reformation, that Luther commenced the work of the Reformation for the sake of enabling himself and other monks and priests to marry. His mind was long in doubt whether monks ought to marry. Many months after he became acquainted with the excellent Catharine, when his friends pressed him to marry, he replied:

"God may change my heart if it is His pleasure, but I have no thought of taking a wife. Not that I feel no attractions in that state, but every day I expect the death and punishment of an heretic."

Not till more than a year after Catharine Bora had escaped from the convent did she become the wife of Martin Luther.



CHAPTER EIGHT.

The Count von Lindburg had been anxiously waiting news from Eric, but none had arrived. The Lady Margaret had been assured by Father Nicholas that his message had been safely delivered to the Abbess of Nimptsch, and that, in spite of all master Eric and his plausible friend might do, she would take very good care her little prisoner should not escape her.

The Knight was growing anxious; he was afraid that something had gone wrong, when, one afternoon, a light waggon, the horses which drew it covered with foam, drove up to the gate of the Castle. Over the drawbridge it dashed, for the porter did not hesitate to admit it, and a venerable-looking old gentleman, habited as a merchant, descending, handed out two young girls in peasants' dresses. The Knight caught sight of the waggon, and hurrying down, one of the girls was soon in his arms.

"My own Ava! My pet little bird, and you have escaped from your cage! Welcome—welcome home, and praised be God who has given me this great blessing!" he exclaimed, again and again kissing her cheek.

His child wept as she hung on the old man's neck. While this was taking place, the other young lady looked about very much astonished and frightened, though there was nothing particularly to frighten her, and the grave merchant was doing his best to reassure her.

"Well done, Eric, my boy—well done, Albert von Otten!" exclaimed the Knight, when he could bring himself to turn his attention for a moment from his recovered daughter.

"Oh! thank Albert, father; it was he thought of the plan; he designed the whole of it. I merely acted the part he selected for me," answered Eric.

"I thank him heartily, then; for very well done it has been, and you have both my eternal gratitude," said the Knight. "And this young lady, I conclude that she helped you in the undertaking?"

"No; it was they helped me to run away, as Ava did not like to go alone, and she promised me an asylum under your roof."

"And you shall have it, if the Pope and all the cardinals were to come and demand you. They shall pull the walls down before I will give you up. And now tell me who you are, my dear fraulein?"

"I am Beatrice von Reichenau, of Swabia. My father, Count von Reichenau, and my mother decline to receive me, and yet they love me, I am sure; but, alas! they little know the horrors of the life to which they had devoted me."

"Better times will come, my sweet fraulein!" said the Knight, who just then saw everything in a bright light.

Meantime, Dame Margaret, Father Nicholas not being in the Castle, having seen the waggon and the young ladies get out of it, and guessing what had happened, and that her fine scheme had failed, went to the great hall, accompanied by Laneta, that she might receive Ava with becoming dignity, and reprimand her in a manner suitable to her offence. She had just taken her post when the Knight entered with timid little Ava clinging to his arm, looking more sweet and lovable than ever in her becoming peasant's dress, and not a bit like a wicked runaway nun. As soon as she saw her mother, she ran forward and threw herself into her arms, half weeping and half smiling.

"Oh, mother—mother, I am so thankful to see you again!" she cried.

Dame Margaret began her speech, but it would not come out. Nature asserted her rights over bigotry and superstition; she burst into tears, and, folding her daughter to her bosom, exclaimed, "And I, Ava, am glad to have you, darling!"

"I always said that she was a good woman, and now I am convinced of it," said the Knight. "Father Nicholas has done his best to spoil her, but, thank Heaven! he has not succeeded, and his reign is pretty well over, I suspect."

Laneta, who really in her way loved her sister, followed her mother's lead, and embraced Ava affectionately. The Dame Margaret was also not a little gratified when she found that her daughter's companion in her flight was so high-born a girl as Beatrice von Reichenau.

"If a young lady of her rank could do such a thing, it surely could not be so very wrong," she said to herself.

Her reasoning was not very good, but it served just then to smooth matters.

Ava and her friend were not idle in the Castle, nor did they confine their labours to it. Their mild, gentle, subdued manners and earnest and zealous spirits attracted all hearts with whom they came in contact. The glorious truths they had received into their own souls they were anxious to impart to others, nor did they feel that any trouble, any exertion, was too great for them to take to forward that object. Still it was very evident that to effect any speedy change on a large scale among the peasantry a preacher was required. Albert von Otten had been made a priest in the days of his ignorance, before he went to Wittemburg, and he remembered the Knight's offer to let him preach in the neighbouring church. Father Nicholas somewhat demurred, but the Knight assured him that Albert von Otten, he was sure, would only preach sound doctrine, and advised him to hold his tongue. Such a sermon as Albert preached had never been heard in that church. He said not a word about himself. He held up but one object—Christ Jesus walking on earth, Christ Jesus crucified, Christ rising again, Christ ascending into heaven, Christ sitting on the right hand of God pleading for sinners. Then he added:

"Dear friends, once a man came among you to sell you what he called indulgences; were they indulgences to commit sin, or indulgences to obtain pardon? What impious imposition! Oh! dear friends—dear friends! God's gifts of grace are free—are priceless. The blood of His only Son purchased them for us once for all. Gifts, gifts—free, free gifts—are what God offers; no selling now, no purchasing now—that has all been done. Christ has paid the price for every sin that man has committed or ever will commit, and man can by his works not add one jot, one tittle, to that all-sufficient price. God's offer is all of free grace. Man has but to look to Christ, to repent, to desire to be healed, and he will be forgiven, he will be accepted and received into heaven. Dear friends, when Moses was leading the Israelites out of Egypt, the land of persecution, of slavery, of idolatry, through the wilderness, they were visited by a plague of venomous serpents whose bite sent fiery pains through their bodies, which speedily terminated by their death. God then ordered Moses to make a brazen serpent (the serpent being among the Egyptians the emblem of the healing power, which was well understood by them [Note 1]). This serpent he was to raise up on a pole in a conspicuous part of the encampment, and all who simply looked at it, desiring to be healed, were instantly to be healed. Moses asked no price, no reward; the bitten sufferers were only to exert themselves to look to ensure being healed. Christ Himself told His disciples, 'As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so shall the Son of man be lifted up'—that was Himself on the cross, 'that all'—of every tongue, and kindred, and nation,—'who believe in Him'— that is to say, look on Him as the Israelites at the brazen serpent—'shall not perish'—shall not die of the fiery bite of sin—'but have eternal life.' This is Gospel—Gospel truth. Then what becomes of indulgences, penances, fasts, invocations to saints, to the Virgin Mary, gifts, alms, if bestowed with the idea of purchasing aught? All useless, vain, insulting to God's generosity, mercy, kindness. It is as if a great noble were to pardon a poor man who had grossly offended him, and, moreover, to bestow a favour on him, and the poor man were to offer him a groat as payment, saying, 'No, I cannot receive your pardon and your favour as a free gift; I must return you something; indeed, a groat is not much, neither do I very greatly value your pardon, because I do not think my offence was very great, nor your favour, which, after all, is but small.'

"'Foolish man,' the lord would say, 'I bestowed that pardon and that favour on you in my beneficence. I require nothing in return but your gratitude and your obedience, and that you should speak of my name and fame among my other vassals, and live in amity with them, doing them all the service in your power. Say, foolish man, what else can a poor, helpless, decrepit, broken-down creature like yourself do for me?' What should you say, dear friends, if this poor wretched man were to answer, 'No, but there are a set of people in your dominions, who assume to be your ministers, though to be sure they make a mockery of your name and love to send people over to serve your enemies,' I can buy of them what they call indulgences, which they say are much better than your free pardon; besides, I may offend as often as I please, and you will be compelled to forgive me because I have paid them; and if it were not for these indulgences, I could fast, I could beat myself, and perform numberless other penances; I could mumble petitions to you, not thinking of what I was saying; indeed, I have no fear but what I can make ample amends to you for this gift which you have bestowed, for this pardon which you have offered. Dear friends, you will say what a weak, conceited, foolish, impudent wretch is that man of whom you speak; and yet what are you doing when you perform penances, and fasts, and such-like works? What did you do when you purchased that mountebank impostor Tetzel's indulgences? Confess—confess that he swindled you out of your money, but O do not, by trusting to them, which you might as well do as a sinking man to a feather or a straw in the raging ocean, allow the arch-deceiver Satan to swindle you out of your souls."

This address, of which many similar were delivered at that time throughout Germany and Switzerland, produced a great effect in the village. No one heard it more eagerly, or with greater delight, than Ava and her companion. It brought out clearly so much of what they had read in the convent.

"God's free grace! God's free grace!" they repeated to each other. "Oh, what a loving, merciful God he must be!"

It made Father Nicholas very uncomfortable. Had he, then, all his life been encouraging a system of imposture? It was a question he would have to answer somehow. Dame Margaret also went back to the Castle sorely troubled in mind. She thought that she had by purchasing Tetzel's indulgences, secured the salvation of herself and all her family. She was fond of a bargain, and she thought that really she had made a good one by the expenditure or a few gold ducats, considering the advantage to be gained. And now she was afraid that she, and her husband, and children were no nearer heaven than they were before she had bought the indulgences; and from the description Tetzel gave of it, purgatory must be a very disagreeable place, but she comforted herself by thinking that Tetzel might have imposed on his hearers in that matter also.

As, however, there was no lack of Testaments in simple, clear German, and parts of the Bible also, and Albert, and Eric, and Ava, and Beatrice too, able and anxious to explain it, gradually both Dame Margaret's and Laneta's eyes were opened, and their faith in the system to which they had before clung was greatly shaken. Father Nicholas, however, could not be so easily turned from his old notions, and now came that terrible convulsion caused by the outbreak of the peasantry and the sad blood-shedding which followed.

"Ah," he exclaimed, triumphantly, "see the work which Luther and his followers have produced!"

"No such thing," answered the Knight, indignantly; "you ought to know that these attempts were commenced long before Dr Luther was heard of. Discontent has been fermenting among them for many years. They have some reason and a great deal of folly on their side. They have done their work like foolish savages as they are, and they will suffer the fate of fools, though, in the meantime, they may do a great deal of mischief."

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Note 1. An interpolation of the author's, this fact probably not being known in Luther's days.



CHAPTER NINE.

It was at the eventful period described in the last chapter that the Count von Lindburg was first introduced to the reader, leaning on his elbow, with a book before him, in his turret-chamber. He had great cause for thoughtfulness. Eric and Albert had gone to Wittemburg. Ava and Beatrice had continued earnestly labouring among the surrounding peasantry, and the minds of the poor people had been awakened by Albert's sermons with great success; Dame Margaret and Laneta continued wavering; and Father Nicholas, though he did not openly oppose the Gospel, persevered in all his old practices, and remained ready to take the winning side. Public events were one cause of the Knight's anxiety, and, besides, it was rumoured that insurgents were appearing in his neighbourhood, threatening to attack his, among other surrounding castles. It would be wrong to deny that the Reformation was not in a certain degree connected with the rebellion of the peasants, but in this manner: the liberty which the Gospel demands for all men when the spirit of that Gospel is received into their hearts, makes them ready to submit to rulers and endure persecutions patiently; but when, though men know its truths, their hearts have not been regenerated, they being aware of their rights as men appeal to the sword to obtain them.

Certain fanatics, also, had appeared, who, though professing to found their doctrines on the Bible, were greatly opposed to the principles of the Gospel. The most notorious of these was Thomas Munzer, pastor of Alstadt, in Thuringia; another was John Muller, of Bulgenbach, in the Black Forest, the inhabitants of which he rallied round him, and raised the standard of rebellion. Here the insurrection began. On the 19th of July, 1524, some Thurgovian peasants rose against the Abbot of Reichenau, who would not accord them an evangelical preacher. Ere long thousands were collected round the small town of Tengen, to liberate an ecclesiastic who was there imprisoned. The revolt spread rapidly, from Swabia as far as the Rhenish Provinces, Franconia, Thuringia, and Saxony. At Weinsberg, Count Louis, of Holfenstein, and seventy men under his orders, were condemned to death by the rebels. A body of peasants drew up with their pikes lowered, whilst others drove the Count and his soldiers against this wall of steel. At the approach of the peasants, the cities that were unable to resist them opened their gates and joined them. Wherever they appeared they pulled down the images and broke the crucifixes. Many nobles, some through fear and others from ambition, joined them.

In vain Luther wrote to them, "Rebellion never produces the amelioration we desire, and God condemns it. What is it to rebel if it be not to avenge one's self? The devil is striving to excite to revolt those who embrace the Gospel, in order to cover it with opprobrium; but those who have rightly understood my doctrine do not revolt."

At length the princes threw off their lethargy; the imperial forces marched to encounter the peasants, and defeated them in every direction. The nobles were soon victorious, and retaliated with most terrible severity on the misguided men. The peasants were hung up by hundreds at the roadside, the eyes of numbers were put out, and some were burnt alive, and in all parts of the country the Romish style of worship was re-established. Still the rebellion was far from being stamped out, and large bodies of insurgents were in arms in different parts of the country besides those in the neighbourhood of the Castle of Lindburg. The Knight had done his best to put his Castle in a state of defence, and his own tenantry promised to come in and fight to the last gasp should it be attacked. Ava and Beatrice, notwithstanding the state of things, went about the country as before, fearless of danger. "We are doing our duty," they answered, when Dame Margaret expostulated with them; "we are carrying out the work to which we devoted our lives, in helping our suffering fellow-creatures, in making known the love of God through His dear Son, and He will protect us."

The Knight, as I have said, having done all that a man could do, sat down in his study, to quiet his mind by reading. He found it, however, a difficult task. Even when he managed to keep his eyes on the page, his mind let them labour alone, and refused to take in the matter they attempted to convey. It was a positive relief when he heard a horse's hoofs clattering into the court-yard. He hurried down to hear the news brought by the horseman. It was truly alarming. The scout who had been sent out by the Knight to gain information, stated that a body of some thousand men were advancing, threatening to destroy all the Castles in the district, and that Lindburg was the first on their line of march. Not a moment was to be lost. He instantly sent out messengers, some to summon his retainers, and others to bring in provisions. The drawbridge was raised, the gates secured. Dame Margaret and Laneta were greatly alarmed. Father Nicholas, who had arrived with all the ornaments of the Church, and as much as his mule could carry, urged the ladies, and all he could get to listen to him, to invoke the protection of the saints. "These new-fangled doctrines brought about all these disorders; ergo, you must go back to the old system to avert them, if it is not already too late."

The Knight advised him to talk sense or keep silence, but the time was opportune, he thought.

"Religion must be supported," he answered, meaning the Romish system, "or we shall be undone."

From the top of the watch-tower a cloud of dust was seen rising. It was caused by the insurgent peasants, horse and foot, approaching.

"Poor people, they have many real causes of complaint. I wish they had remained quiet, for their own sake, and allowed the law to right them," observed the Knight.

"Let us pray for them that their hearts may be changed, and that they may see their folly and wickedness," said Ava; and Beatrice repeated the sentiment.

Just then three horsemen were seen approaching the Castle at full speed. The Knight soon recognised his son and Albert von Otten; the other was a stranger.

"Ah, they come to bring us the aid of their swords," exclaimed the Knight. "Three gentlemen will be a host in themselves when opposed to those unhappy serfs."

The drawbridge was lowered to admit them. Eric directed that it should be left down, as they were going again to sally forth immediately. He embraced his father and mother and sisters, and he might have said a few words to Beatrice, as certainly Albert did to Ava, and Eric introduced the stranger as Frederick Myconius, professor of divinity.

"Welcome, gentlemen; but I thought, I confess, that you were fighting men come to aid in defence of the Castle. I was counting on your good swords."

"Our good swords you shall have, father," answered Eric, taking off the belt to which hung the scabbard of his weapon. "But we ourselves cannot wield them. We go forth with other weapons than those of steel, and trusting to other strength than an arm of flesh to quell these misguided men. Dr Myconius will address them, as Dr Martin Luther has already addressed thousands, and turned them aside from their purpose of vengeance. We have, though, no time to lose."

"Go forth, my son—go forth, my friends; I feel sure that God, who sees all our actions, will protect you with His Almighty arm in so noble and pious an object," exclaimed the Knight, holding the sword which had been given to him.

The three brave young men rode forth from the Castle unarmed, and hastened towards the rebel host. They well knew the danger, humanly speaking, to which they were exposing themselves, but not for a moment did they hesitate doing what they knew to be right. They were soon face to face with the insurgent band, led on by a man in a red cloak and hat and white plume. They were a wild savage set of beings in appearance. Many a bold man might have hesitated to encounter them. Those who now advanced to meet them trusted not in their own strength to deliver them. Dr Myconius rode first. As he drew close to the insurgents, he lifted up his arm and said, "Bear with me, dear friends, while I address a few words to you, and ask you what you seek? what are you about to do? what object do you desire to gain? Is it one well-pleasing to God, or is it not rather one He abhors? Is it revenge? The Gospel of Jesus Christ will not permit its indulgence. Is it to overthrow principalities and powers? The Gospel orders us to obey them. Is it to oppose the power of the Papacy? The light of truth can alone do that. Is it lust, rapine, murder, you desire to commit? Those who do such things can never inherit the kingdom of heaven. Listen, dear friends, to those who love you, who feel for you, who know that you have souls to be saved— precious souls above all price in God's sight, for them He sent down His Son on earth to suffer far more wrongs than you have ever suffered. Endanger not these precious souls by the acts you contemplate. Turn aside from your purpose, fall on your knees, and pray to God to enlighten your minds, to give you patience above all things to bear your sufferings here for a short time, that, trusting in the merits of Christ Jesus, who once suffered for you, and now reigns and pleads for you, you maybe raised up to dwell with Him, to reign with Him in happiness unspeakable for ever and ever."

Such was the style of eloquence with which one of the great leaders of the Reformation addressed the lately infuriated insurgents. It went to their hearts; they acknowledged its truth, the power from which it flowed, and yielded to its influence. Peaceably they divided into small parties; thus they returned to their villages, to their separate homes, speaking as they went of the love of Christ, and the sufferings He had endured for their sakes, and praying that they too might endure any sufferings it might please their heavenly Father to call on them to bear with patience for His sake, that thus the Christian character might be exalted in the eyes of the world.

The three friends returned to the Castle. The success of their undertaking was heard of with astonishment. The Knight went to his Testament, and came back exclaiming, "I see, I see, it was the right way to do it. It was the way Jesus Christ would have acted, and I doubt not He was with you to counsel and guide you."

Dame Margaret and Laneta, and even Father Nicholas, confessed that the mode they had employed with Dr Martin Luther and others, to put down the insurrection, was far more satisfactory and sensible than that which the Roman Catholic nobles and knights had pursued with cannon-balls, bullets, and sharp swords. The two ladies at length, through the gentle influence of Ava and Beatrice, completely abandoned the errors of Rome, and embraced the truths of evangelical religion. Father Nicholas, still clinging to the idolatry to which he had been accustomed, was compelled to give up his cure, and thankfully accepted a small pension from the Knight, on condition that he should keep silence till he had learned the truth. Albert von Otten, notwithstanding his rank, gladly became the humble pastor of Lindburg, and little Ava as gladly became his most efficient helpmate, while Beatrice von Reichenau married Eric. The Knight arrived at a green old age, and though there was little peace in the world, he found it in his home and in his heart, and saw his grandchildren grow up pious Christians and sound brave Protestants.

THE END