Transcriber's Notes:

1. Page scan source:
http://www.archive.org/details/talesfromgerman01greegoog

2. This volume includes these stories: [The Lichtensteins]: A
Tale of the Times of the Thirty Years War; [The Sorceress];
and [The Anabaptist]: A Tale of the First Half of the Sixteenth
Century.

TALES

FROM THE GERMAN

TRANSLATED

BY NATHANIEL GREENE.

VOLUME II.

BOSTON:
AMERICAN STATIONERS' COMPANY,

JOHN B. RUSSELL.

1837.

BOSTON:
Samuel N. Dickinson, Printer,
52, Washington Street.

[THE LICHTENSTEINS].

A TALE OF THE TIMES OF THE THIRTY YEARS WAR.

BY C. F. VAN DER VELDE.

CHAPTER I.

On christmas-eve, in the year 1628, Katharine, the wife of the merchant Fessel, of Schweidnitz, was standing in her large back parlor, with her infant upon her arm, arranging with feminine taste, upon a long table covered with a snow-white cloth, the Christmas gifts destined for her husband, her children, and the other members of her family.

At a table in the corner, sat the book-keeper, Oswald Dorn, giving the finishing touch to a miniature manger, which he had ingeniously constructed for the children of his employer. He now placed a beautifully painted angel, cut out of isinglass, in the side of the manger in which the infant Savior lay, for the purpose of indicating the celestial mission of the heavenly messenger by its transparent brilliancy. He gave yet another satisfied look at the well executed work, and then approached Katharine, who had, meanwhile, spread out an infinite variety of useful and agreeable presents, articles of dress, pieces of coin, books, toys, &c. She was now distributing to each one his portion of cakes, sweet biscuits, sugar animals, gingerbread, apples and nuts, with just impartiality. In deep thought, the book-keeper took from the table two figures formed of Schweidnitz gingerbread. They represented two of Dr. Martin Luther's enemies, Tetzel and Eck, in their official robes, disfigured with the heads of animals. The names inscribed on them left no doubt whom they were intended to represent. Dorn examined the caricatures with an ominous shake of the head. 'Do not give these ill-shaped things to the children,' said he. 'Believe me, it is not well for them to be so early taught to make war upon opinions which they do not understand. Mockery and derision are bad aids to the holy cause, and the hand, which grasps filth to throw at an adversary, is itself the first soiled. The bitterness, with which the struggle for truth and spiritual freedom has been carried on, has already spread enough of suffering and misery over Europe. Let not the demon of sectarian zeal intrude itself into the nursery.'

'You take every thing in the same earnest and serious way,' jestingly answered the friendly Katharine, laying the caricature figures aside. 'Who that heard you would suppose you had bravely drawn your sword for the new faith yourself? The red scar upon your forehead contradicts your words.'

'You are right,' cried Dorn with emotion. 'I have wielded the sword for the new faith. A bold captain of daring robbers, I have achieved many a deed of arms under this pretext; but daily do I pray to God to pardon me for it!'

He hastened away. The reverend Johannes Beer, who had entered the room unnoticed at the commencement of this conversation, looked after him with astonishment, and then asked the hostess: 'that young man talks very strangely--may he not be a papist in disguise, sent into this house as a spy for our destruction?'

'By no means!' cried Katharine with zeal. 'You know, my worthy sir, that he was wounded fighting for the Augsburg confession, and during the two years he has dwelt under our roof, he has constantly evinced so true an attachment for us, and such a noble zeal against the tyranny of the pope, that I would answer for his honesty with my life.'

'You judge of others according to the goodness of your own heart!' cried the parson. 'Believe me, in the iron times in which we live one cannot be too cautious. One Judas was found even among the apostles. Many a one who was a Paul for the pure evangelical doctrines has fallen from the faith, and now rages an angry Saul against his former brethren. The devil has once more become wholly devilish, and the anti-christ again goes about like a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour. The emperor, incited by the monks, has determined to effect a counter reformation in Silesia; and already in Glogau, the Lichtensteins,[¹] those terrible men of blood, who convert by fire and sword, are raging in a furious and shocking manner.'

'Ah, reverend sir,' complained Katharine, 'we have invited you to share our joys and partake with us of the festival of our Lord; but by repeating such dreadful news you will embitter all our enjoyments, and convert our christmas supper into a mourning feast.'

'It is the duty of a faithful pastor,' said the clergyman, 'to frighten away the sleep of safety into which we are rocked by ease and selfishness. Our good Schweidnitz will also have to suffer in its turn. Have they not already taken from us the honorably purchased church of the cross, and the church of our dear lady of the woods? Have they not already forbidden us the service of God in the church of the Holy Ghost? They will surely take the earliest opportunity to do the same with St. Stanislaus and St. Wenceslaus. Various suspicious signs and tokens have lately been seen. As I was observing the stars last night, with my colleague Glogero, the constellations were very ominous; and about midnight a fearful sign arose in the heavens from the north. A large red ball of fire described a flaming arch from the edge of the horizon to the zenith of the parish church, where it burst with a powerful explosion. It indicates the near proximity of great danger to our religious liberties.'

During this speech so prophetic of evil, Katharine, with a happy feminine tact, contrived to forget the threatened troubles amid the little cares of the moment, and proceeded to ignite the innumerable lights of the christmas-trees, and those placed in the little manger for the purpose of illuminating its interior. The brightness of day was diffused through the large room, which awaked the child upon her bosom, and it smilingly stretched out its little hands toward the joyous light.

'See how my little Johannes is delighted,' said the mother to the gloomy man. 'Careless of the threatening future, he enjoys the present. Does not our holy bible say, 'unless you become like little children you shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven!' Therefore leave the portentous future to the wise guidance of God, and be happy with us to-night, for once, like this harmless child. Above all, be silent in my husband's presence, respecting your bad news. He has been very anxious and dejected for some days, and I shall be much grieved if anything occur to render us unhappy this evening, to which christians of all denominations look with general joy as the anniversary of their common origin.'

One of Fessel's apprentices now opened the door. 'My master directs me to say to you,' cried he, 'that you may immediately commence the distribution of the presents, before it is too late. He has yet much to do in the counting-room. Two important letters have arrived. He will come to you at the earliest moment possible.'

'That is not at all pleasant!' sighed Katharine, as the messenger disappeared. 'There can be no true family festival where the master of the house is missing. Nevertheless, my husband is right! If I delay much longer, the supper will be spoiled and everything will be in disorder.' She rang a bell which stood upon the table. A distant shout of children answered the noisy summons. She rang a second time, when the shouts came nearer, and a joyous tumult arose at the door of the room. She now put down the bell, and looked pleasedly toward the door, before which the whispering, laughing and tramping band awaited the third call.

'They must wait a little,' said Katharine, smiling, to the clergyman. 'It seasons the pleasure, and is a wholesome lesson for youth, when early taught.' The holy man nodded assent to the pedagogical artifice; but meanwhile the mother's heart began to yield, and impelled Katharine's hand toward the bell.

The third call now sounded, when the door burst open as if at the explosion of a petard, and the four children of Fessel, two vigorous boys and two lovely girls, stormed into the room, surrounding and dragging their favorite, the book-keeper, along with them. After them followed the clerks, apprentices, servants and maidens, who modestly arranged themselves in a row near the door until their places were pointed out to them.

The children precipitated themselves toward the richly laden table like a rushing stream, recognizing the portion destined for each with a searching and rapid glance. 'I will draw this against Wallenstein!' screamed the wild Martin, brandishing a little sword that he found among his presents. 'A bible and a bunch of quills,' cried the intellectual Ulrich, holding them up: 'now I will write against the papists like the noble Hutten, whose name I bear. 'Alas, the poor maidens who can never be married!' cried both of the girls, bringing two waxen nuns to their mother.

'Beloved children!' said the clergyman, pressing them all to his heart. They tore themselves from his arms and broke out in a simultaneous shout of astonishment and joy upon observing the miniature manger. Then as if beside themselves they ran, tumbling over each other, to their mother, the clergyman and Dorn, thankfully showing and praising their several presents.

'Will you not look at your christmas present, master Dorn?' asked Katharine of the book-keeper, who kept himself apart in serious silence.

He turned toward the designated place with a melancholy smile, and as he cast his eyes upon the rich present, a complete and splendid dress-suit with a full complement of the finest linen, he turned again with deep emotion to Katharine, who was pointing out their places to the rest of the household.

'This is too much, madam Katharine,' he cried. 'How may you thus favor the stranger beyond the children of your house?'

'The stranger?' asked Katharine resentfully. 'In our hearts it has been a long time since you were so, and we should much regret to have you consider yourself one. Believe me, we are sensible what a faithful companion and assistant my husband has acquired in you, and that every thing we can do for you is but honestly discharging our obligations.'

'Ah, see, master Dorn, you also have got a sword!' cried Martin, holding up this essential part of the dress of a burgher in those times, which lay by Dorn's present.

Dorn suddenly approached the boy and taking the magnificent sword from his hands gazed upon it with secret pleasure. At length he could no longer resist the desire to draw and try the temper of the blade.

'You are not angry,' asked Katharine, 'that a lady should presume to arm you? Really your old sword with its hacked hilt and notched and rusty blade, would not have become your new suit.'

'You have done well, worthy lady,' said Dorn, proving the blade by pressing its point against the floor and bending it in every direction. 'The old sword had indeed become dear to me, like an old friend who had always remained true in times of necessity and danger; but I never reflect upon the deeds I have performed with it without shuddering. It seems to me that it is possessed by an evil spirit which impels my hand to deeds of blood against my will, and I therefore do not like to touch it. This has as yet drank no blood, and, so help me God, I will preserve it unstained unless I am compelled to draw it in defence of the hearth where I, a friendless stranger, have been so hospitably received.'

'Or in defence of religion,' added the parson.

'The true religion, most worthy sir,' answered Dorn, 'needs not the aid of the sword!'

The reverend man had already opened his mouth to refute this bold proposition, when the master of the house entered with a clouded countenance, holding two open letters in his hand. He briefly greeted the parson, gently put aside the children who gathered about him in their noisy joy, and handed one of the letters to his wife.

'From your mother, at Sagan,' said he; and while she proceeded to read it with visible terror, he drew the book-keeper to a window.

'I have a sudden and disagreeable business for you,' said he to Dorn. 'The terrible Wallenstein conducts himself in his new dukedom with a tyranny almost unheard of among christians. He has determined to send all the orphan sons of burghers of Sagan to the school he has recently established at Gitschin. Those whom he has found in the place, have been forcibly sent to Bohemia. Their property and relatives are held answerable for the absent. As you already know, my mother-in-law's nephew, young Engelmann, is at present studying at the gymnasium in this city; and the tyrant has thrown his uncle and guardian into prison until the pupil shall be forthcoming. No other course remains, but to send the poor boy home as soon as possible; and, that he may, in these dangerous times, reach Sagan with safety, it is my wish that you would accompany him. When there, you may also be able to assist me in another affair. I have loaned a thousand gilders upon the two houses of the joiner Eckebrect. My debtor now informs me that the houses are among those the duke has caused to be demolished for the purpose of opening a better view for his palace. Nothing has yet been said respecting indemnification. I therefore wish you, while on the spot, to obtain all the information you can upon the subject.'

'I am very willingly at your service,' modestly answered Dorn. 'When shall I set out?'

'Did I not fear the sin of keeping you from church on christmas night,' said Fessel, 'I would beg of you to start this very evening. Sagan is distant, and old Engelmann is a very worthy man, whose release from prison I should be glad to effect as soon as possible.'

'The performance of duty is God's service!' cried Dorn. 'I will go immediately and prepare for the journey.' He left the room, followed by the boys, who lamented the loss of their best christmas enjoyment in his departure.

'Your book-keeper is indeed no papist,' said the parson to Katharine after a long pause; 'but there may also be some doubt of his Lutheranism; for he appears to sustain the doctrine of good works. He may be tinctured with Calvinism.

'If he were, he would still be our protestant co-laborer and brother in Christ,' answered Fessel in the name of his consort, who was busily reading.

'Calvin, Zuinglius, and the pope--all are heretics alike!' grumbled the parson.

The weeping Katharine now folded the letter, handed it to her husband, and in a soft, submissive voice asked him: 'What have you decided upon, Tobias?'

'I wished to advise with you upon the matter first, my Kitty,' he answered, in a friendly manner. 'They are your nearest relatives who now seek a refuge with us, and I would not willingly leave them in the claws of those fiends; but at all events their coming would increase your domestic cares, and I know not whether you would like to have your mother and sister reside in the family.'

'As I know my beloved ones,' she joyfully answered, 'I have only relief, consolation and joy, to expect from them; and, if my opinion is to decide the matter, I beg you with all my heart to have them brought here.'

Dorn now entered the room in his traveling dress, with his rusty sword by his side. He was followed by Martin and Ulrich, and the young Engelmann with his traveling bag in his hand, much grieved at being compelled to leave his dear Schweidnitz for a strange school where he was unknowing and unknown.

'The carriage is ready,' said the book-keeper. 'I come to take my leave, and ask if you have any further commands for me.'

'I have yet one more request, my dear friend,' answered the merchant. 'A captain of Wallenstein's body guards is quartered in the house of my mother-in-law at Sagan, who plays the duke of Friedland on a small scale in the quiet residence of the widow; and, what is still more unfortunate, woos the favor of my sister-in-law after the fashion of a wild Tartar. She very naturally rejects the monster, who has already served under four different masters, has four times changed his religion, and is now, by accident, a catholic; but the refusal has brought her no relief, and he only, who knows how much a bad man may afflict a family upon whom he is quartered, can imagine what the poor women must suffer. On this account they wish to leave all behind them and flee to me at Schweidnitz; and after having delivered up your scholar, you can bring them with you on your return. This writing may serve as your credential.'

'I beg of you to be especially careful that you suffer no injury on the way from the marauding soldiers, who render the public roads unsafe,' said Katharine with anxious solicitude.

'I take with me my faithful old battle-companion,' said Dorn, striking the hilt of his sword with a glance in which all his former military spirit shone forth. 'Do not be concerned for me, madam Katharine. We have a hard frost--I shall let the horses travel at a round pace--and with God's blessing, I will be here to partake of the christmas supper, which I should have eaten now, with you and your dear relatives on new year's eve.'

He raised the sorrowing children, whom even the ingeniously constructed manger could not console for his departure, one after the other to his lips, bowed to the others, disappeared with his protégé, and the wheels of his carriage were soon heard rattling over the hard-frozen ground.

CHAPTER II.

It was the evening of the third christmas holiday. The snow-flakes were merrily whirling about out of doors; and in a well warmed room at Sagan sat the merchant's widow, Prudentia Rosen, with her daughter, the lovely Faith. Both of them were industriously winding the fine spun thread upon the twirling spindles. The impudent captain of the guards had planted himself in the matron's armchair, at the table, and was afflicting the poor women by a recital of his terrible warlike deeds, while he emptied the silver goblet standing before him, and directed love-glances, which made him look even more disagreeable, at poor Faith, who, sighingly and reluctantly replenished it from time to time.

The servant announced a stranger who wished to speak with madam Rosen alone.

The widow rose to go out in obedience to the summons; but the captain sneeringly observed that as she could have no motive for a secret interview with the stranger, she could give the required audience in his presence.

The widow nodded to the servant, with a slight shrug of the shoulders at this new exhibition of insolence. The latter immediately ushered in a young man, who greeted the ladies with modest friendliness, and the captain with cold courtesy.

'I am the book-keeper of your son-in-law,' said he. 'I have the honor to hand you this letter as my credential, and to inform you, that, if agreeable, yourself and daughter can accompany me to Schweidnitz to-morrow morning.'

'How? You wish to leave Sagan now, madam Rosen?' asked the captain, angrily stroking his red beard.

'Family affairs render this journey unavoidable,' answered the widow, with quiet firmness.

'You must arrange the matter otherwise,' blustered the ruffian. 'Your most imperative duty is to remain here and provide for the comfort of those who are quartered in your house.'

'Do not be anxious on that score, captain,' answered the widow. 'Every thing will be furnished that you need in my absence.'

'Then go, in the devil's name, where you please,' cried the captain; 'but, that my comfort may not be disturbed, your daughter remains behind to discharge the duties of hostess.'

'Give yourself no uneasiness, madam Rosen,' said Dorn, consolingly, to the terrified woman. 'If you are not by the duke of Friedland's command a prisoner in your own house, the captain will let you go without requiring a hostage.'

'How is that?' cried the irritated captain, viewing the young man from head to foot. The latter quietly returned his measuring glance, whilst the beauteous Faith timidly raised her eyes from her spindle, inwardly delighted with the fearlessness of the interesting stranger.

'You are a fine fellow,' said the captain with a malicious smile; 'well-grown and strong; and your bold behavior is very becoming. You would make a good trooper. Come, do me justice to the health of our most gracious emperor.'

'We must become better acquainted with each other, captain, before we drink together,' answered Dorn, politely declining the goblet.

'Do you slight my proffered courtesy,' growled the captain; 'or do you belong to the rebels, that you refuse to drink the emperor's health?'

'Drink!' imploringly begged the timid Faith, and, vanquished by the glance which accompanied the request, the youth seized the goblet and cried, 'May God enlighten the emperor and teach him the true way to promote the welfare of his subjects!'

'Bravo, comrade!' cried the captain, as the goblet was drained. 'You will never regret having entered the emperor's service. I pledge you my word that you will be a corporal in a month.'

'What mean you by that?' asked Dorn with surprise. 'The idea of entering the emperor's service never once came into my head.'

'You jest!' cried the miscreant. You have drank to the emperor with a captain in the imperial service, and by that act have become a soldier.'

'Is it possible!' cried Dorn. 'Can you so prostitute the emperor's name as to use it for so low an artifice?'

'Not a word of opposition, fellow!' said the captain menacingly. 'You have consented to take service under the standard of his imperial majesty, and must abide thereby.'

'I am a free burgher of Schweidnitz,' said Dorn; 'what right have you to hold me?'

'What right! what right! blustered the captain, striking the floor with his sword. 'Here is my right, which is valid through all Europe.'

'I warn you, captain,' cried Dorn, 'to be cautious how you take a step which may disgrace you without accomplishing your purpose.'

'That we shall see!' said the captain; and, going to the door, he threw it open and cried, 'Orderly!'

A gigantic guardsman came clattering up the steps, stooped to enter the room, and then, straitening himself up like a tall pine, thundered, 'Here!'

'Take this recruit to the guard-room,' commanded the captain, 'and deliver him over, on my account, to the officer of the day. He may as well be put in uniform and sworn to his colors this evening as tomorrow.'

The colossus stepped up to Dorn, pointed to the door, and in a very insolent tone commanded, 'March!'

Dorn hurled him back with great force, and drew from his pocket a sealed document which he held up to the view of the captain. 'My commission as captain in the royal Danish service,' said he, 'protects me against the honor of serving under you. The duke of Friedland shall satisfy himself of its authenticity to-morrow. To me you must make reparation, upon the spot, for this personal outrage. Have the goodness to follow me to the door.'

The captain, who, like many a bragadocio, hid the ears of the ass under the skin of the lion, stood utterly confused before the angry youth, in whom he had very unexpectedly found his match. At length he motioned his orderly to retire. 'It is not possible for me to accept your invitation to-night; but early in the morning we will speak further upon this matter,' said he with constrained courtesy to Dorn, and immediately left the room.

'We shall not be able to start before noon, in this way,' said Dorn, with some little vexation. 'Meanwhile, have the goodness, madam Rosen, to pack the best and most necessary articles which you may wish to take with you, to-night.'

'Ah, that would prove a fruitless trouble, my dear sir!' exclaimed the widow. 'The captain is now highly incensed, and I believe he would strike the horses dead before the carriage, sooner than let us go.'

'I trust some one higher than he can be found here,' said Dorn. 'When matters come to the worst, I can speak to the duke himself.'

'God preserve you from that!' cried the widow. 'He is indeed a passionate, tyrannical man, who will not tolerate even the sparrows upon his roof. He directly hangs every one who makes the least opposition to him. He strung up a poor apothecary's apprentice for making too much noise in his neighborhood with his pestle and mortar, and a poor child because it cried in its mother's arms.'

'I nevertheless doubt not he will suffer me to live,' said Dorn, with a smile. 'I have seen the white of his eye at Dessau, and was not frightened. Therefore dismiss your fears and pack up as quick as you can. I shall start at one in the afternoon to-morrow. I have promised your daughter to be in Schweidnitz on new-year's eve, and will keep my word.'

He was about to take his leave; but the widow held him fast by both his hands.

'No,' cried she, anxiously, 'I will not let you go. I thank God for sending a manly protector to my house in these evil times, and should die with fear if compelled to sleep alone under the same roof with that monster, now that he is irritated. No, you remain with us. My daughter shall prepare the little guest-chamber for you, and I will mix your evening draught.'

'I would not be troublesome to you,' said Dorn, 'at a time when your house is already occupied by other guests.'

'It is, indeed, and by those who are uninvited and unwelcome,' sighed the widow. 'But for that very reason I would add a welcome guest to the number, that I may know whether I am yet mistress of my own house.'

In obedience to a nod from her mother. Faith, with blushing cheeks and downcast eyes, took a light to show the guest to his chamber. He followed her through the Gothic building, up one flight of steps and down another, through crooked passages, until they reached a small, but neatly furnished chamber, in which was a snow white bed. While Faith removed the flowered damask covering, filled the shining pewter ewer with fresh water, and hung a towel near it, he was occupied in observing the beautiful form of the lovely blonde, whose graceful motions, employed for the promotion of his comfort, were for that reason rendered doubly charming.

'Perhaps I render you an unwelcome service in taking you from this place, fair maiden?' said he, by way of beginning conversation.

'How can you think so, sir?' quickly replied Faith. 'I thank my God and yourself for my release.'

'Well, one cannot always know,' said Dorn, jestingly. 'The heart may often have attachments in a place otherwise particularly disagreeable.'

'If I thought you alluded to the captain,' said Faith, with some asperity, 'I could become angry with you, in the first hour of our acquaintance.'

'He is not, indeed, a very fascinating suitor,' continued Dorn; 'but there nevertheless may be in the city of Sagan, some slender rosy youth, who has eyes for so beauteous a maiden.'

'I know none here for whom I could have eyes,' answered the maiden, quickly, and immediately became somewhat alarmed at the traitorous emphasis she had laid upon the word here.

'Not here, but elsewhere?' asked Dorn, seizing her delicate white hand.

'These bold questions come from the evil customs of your hateful military profession,' said Faith, endeavoring to withdraw her hand. He suffered her to regain it only by slow degrees, letting but one rosy finger out of his hand at a time, while his pulse was becoming greatly accelerated by the soft, caressing touch. His eyes sought and met hers, which looked kindly upon him, not with the sun's consuming fire, but with the mild chaste light of the friendly moon.

'So you have not yet loved, charming Faith?' he earnestly asked, holding fast the last little finger of the imprisoned hand.

'What a question,' whispered she, turning away from him. 'I am scarcely sixteen years old.'

'Then the first silver-tone is yet to be drawn from this untried 'harp of a thousand strings;' O, how happy,' cried the youth, 'will be that artist who shall one day succeed in awakening its thrilling music!'

Faith suddenly exclaimed, 'Good night, captain!' The farewell bow released the yet imprisoned finger, and the delightful vision disappeared.

CHAPTER III.

When Dorn opened his eyes the next morning, a corporal and six halbardiers were standing before his bed.

'Dress yourself quickly,' commanded the corporal. 'I am ordered to bring you before the duke.'

Having soon become satisfied that no opposition was, in this case, to be thought of, Dorn obeyed. As he and his guards were passing through the streets, he saw many things which went to prove the arbitrary power of the man before whom his own emperor and all Europe were then trembling. Notwithstanding the misery and suffering produced by the war, he saw whole rows of houses which had been repaired, newly painted, and splendidly furnished, that the city in which the Friedlander dwelt and governed might present an agreeable appearance to the eye. The beautiful flocks and herds of the city, driven by weeping burghers, were making their way toward the gates, having been expelled because their continuance in the city was inconsistent with the dignity of a capital. The work of demolition was yet going on in the vicinity of the palace, and more than fifty houses were lying in ruins. To all of Dorn's questions, however, the corporal had but one answer:--'the duke wills it.' They had now reached the castle. The corporal conducted Dorn through the crowd of halbardiers, footmen and pages, to the ante-chamber of the audience-room, where fifty of the body guards were on duty. Two Silesian noblemen, ambassadors to the duke from Leignitz and Oels-Bernstadt, were here waiting in patient humility to learn if the dictator would please to grant them an audience.

At length one of the duke's counsellors came out of the audience-room, and with insolent hauteur beckoned the Leignitz ambassador, who reverentially approached the proud knight.

'What you have delivered to my lord in behalf of your province,' said the counsellor, with contemptuous disrespect, 'he will take into consideration and communicate his pleasure to your duke at the next assembly of the princes. Your complaints against the troops are not deserving of consideration. The soldier must have something for his trouble and toil. In that respect, my lord has far heavier and more just complaints against your duke. The latter has put a man to death who wished to take service in our army.'

'The culprit was a subject of our duke, and a wilful murderer,' answered the ambassador. 'He was executed in accordance with the right and in pursuance of the judgment of the court of Aldermen of Leignitz.'

'No court of justice,' continued the counsellor, 'may presume to punish any one who claims the Friedlander's protection. My lord directs you to say to your duke, that he must send him two hundred infantry from his own troops as an indemnification, or the heads of a dozen of the Leignitz nobility shall be answerable for the neglect.'

The Leignitz ambassador retired with a deadly paleness, and the messenger from Oels-Bernstadt was beckoned to approach.

'Duke Wenzel,' said the counsellor, in a cutting tone, 'has ventured to hang same soldiers of count Terzky's regiment.'

'As robbers taken in the act,' interposed the messenger; 'in obedience to the orders of the generalissimo himself, to keep the high roads safe, and punish all convicted criminals.'

'Terzky has written to him,' continued the counsellor, without noticing the interruption, 'that he has ordered the same number of the prince's counsellors to be hanged, and that he has already set a price upon their heads. Thereupon lord Wenzel immediately complained to the emperor, and the complaint, as was proper, has been transmitted to my master, who has decided upon the affair. He directs it to be announced to your master that he approves and will sustain the acts of count Terzky, and to give an example to the Silesian princes generally, the principalities and baronies of your master will be confiscated and divided among those soldiers who have merited them by their services. With this message you are at liberty to depart.' He turned his back upon him and with a haughty step returned to the audience-room. The messengers departed in speechless sorrow, and at that moment a corporal conducted two well dressed ladies into the ante-chamber. They were closely veiled and weeping bitterly. Another corporal led a bound Wallensteiner, with wild, staring eyes, blue lips and bristling' hair, through the ante-chamber into the audience-room. The ladies now looked up, and, perceiving Dorn, quickly removed their veils. He instantly recognized his hospitable hostess and her lovely daughter.

'My dear Faith!' cried he with tender compassion; but the corporal rapped him upon the shoulder, and whispered to him, 'silence, if you have any regard for your neck. Without the duke's permission no word must be uttered here.'

A deep and awful silence now prevailed in the ante-chamber, broken only by some plaintive tone which occasionally reached them through the double doors which separated the two rooms. An angry voice suddenly cried within, 'let the brute be hanged!'--'That was the duke,' whispered one of the soldiers to another. The doors opened, and the delinquent was again led through the ante-chamber by his companion. 'God be merciful to me!' stammered he, as he staggered onward and disappeared.

Again a deep silence, again the doors of the audience-room opened, and the counsellor cried out, 'the Dane, with the two gentlewomen!'

'Forward!' commanded each of the corporals, and with a firm step Dorn walked into the hall, supporting the almost fainting females.

A tall haggard man, with a dreadful sternness in his yellow face and small twinkling eyes, frightfully expressive of anxiety, a magnificent plumed hat upon his short red head, a black velvet Spanish jacket decked with the stars and chains of various orders, an ermine-trimmed, dark violet-colored velvet mantle upon his shoulders, was standing by his gilded armchair before a table, at which three counsellors and a Jesuit were seated. Six barons and the same number of knights, stood in files by the wall in respectful silence, that the behests of the all-powerful noble might be followed by instant execution, as the deed follows the will, or thunder the lightning. Behind the arm-chair stood the well known captain of the life guards, who met the entering group with a smile of Satanic triumph.

With the majesty of a prince of the lower world, the duke advanced to Dorn, looked at him with his little piercing eyes as though he would interrogate his soul, and in a gruff repulsive tone asked him, 'Danish captain?'

'By virtue of this commission,' quietly answered Dorn, handing the document to him.

The duke glanced through it, gave it back to him, and said, 'a prisoner of war, then!'

'When count Mannsfeld was driven through Silesia by you,' answered Dorn, 'I was left in Oels severely wounded. I there found a charitable merchant who had my wounds healed and afterwards took me with him to Schweidnitz. Tired of the trade of war, I have remained there for the last two years, and served my benefactor in the capacity of book-keeper. Under these circumstances, I leave it for your sense of justice to decide whether I can be considered a prisoner of war.'

'Or spy?' asked the duke.

'My free passport remains with the commandant of the city,' answered Dorn.

'What was your object in coming to head quarters?' asked the duke.

'To bring a scholar from Schweidnitz,' answered Dorn, for your school at Gitschin, and to take back to Schweidnitz my employer's mother-in-law and her daughter.'

'Prove it!' cried the examiner.

'Send to the merchant Engelmann,' said Dorn; 'who must have left his prison last evening; and Madam Rosen must yet have the letter which she wrote to Schweidnitz and which I brought back to her as my credential.'

'Here is the unlucky letter,' sobbed the trembling widow, handing it to the duke on bended knee.

He took it, read, and turned towards the captain.

'We have your portrait here,' said he; 'not flattered, but well drawn. Did you know the object of his coming here?'

The captain replied only by stammering some unintelligible words.

'He wished to prevent their departure,' said Dorn.

'To know and keep silence, is called lying!' observed the duke, with anger. Then to Dorn, 'you have, however, abused the emperor!'

'That is not true!' cried the latter with vehemence. 'He drank the emperor's health with the captain!' cried the trembling Faith, encouraged by her anxiety for the youth. 'I and my mother are witnesses, and because he drank the emperor's health, the captain pretended that he had enlisted for a soldier.'

'Shame upon you!' thundered the duke. 'Has a lord who has all Europe for a recruiting ground, need of such miserable devices?'

'Here is a heretic conspiracy,' cried the captain, 'planned for my destruction. This woman is secretly a Lutheran, together with her daughter. Already have I twice watched their stolen attendance upon the preacher of Eckensdorf. For that reason they have called the Mannsfelder here, that he may take them to heretical Schweidnitz, where they can practise their idolatry undisturbedly; and because, out of zeal for the true faith, I wished to prevent their heathenish abominations, I am calumniated by the apostate women and their accomplice.'

'Heap not new insults upon us,' cried Dorn, forgetting in whose presence he stood. 'You know that you yet owe me satisfaction for those of last evening. You promised indeed to meet me this morning; but you preferred to rob me of my liberty and the ability to punish you for the outrage you committed, by false charges.'

'Mannsfelder! Mannsfelder!' exclaimed the duke, secretly delighted with the boldness of the warrior; 'We also are yet here!' and turning to the captain, he asked; 'What have you to say to this accusation?'

'Challenged and not appear!' cried he, as the captain stood mute, with frightfully flashing eyes. 'A Friedlandish captain! Announce yourself to the officer of the day as under arrest, and immediately afterwards seek for your discharge. You can no longer serve under Wallenstein!'

'Yet the captain's information with regard to the secret church-going of these women may well deserve some consideration,' remarked the Jesuit, rising.

'A soldier should be no priestly spy,' angrily answered the duke. 'I am the emperor's generalissimo; but not his inquisitor. What care I about the catechisms of his subjects. They may believe what they like, provided they but give what they should. I adhere to my decision.'

With a devout sigh the Jesuit again seated himself; and, in despair at the rebound of his last arrow, the captain left the hall.

With a kindness which strangely suited his stony face, the duke now stepped directly to Dorn and slapped him upon the shoulder. 'You are laconic and resolute,' said he, 'I like that; and moreover I must have seen this face somewhere.'

'Perhaps on the Elbe near Dessau,' answered Dorn.

'Right!' cried the duke. 'You are the officer who held the last entrenchment with such obstinacy. I liked you, even then. Will you become a major in my regiment of life-guards? I shall conclude a peace with Denmark at the earliest opportunity, and so your Danish commission need be no hindrance.'

'To the true hero the truth may be fearlessly spoken,' said Dorn. 'I cannot fight against my conscience.'

'I regret that any obstacle deprives me of your services,' said the duke. 'I would very willingly do something to oblige you. Ask some favor of me!'

'I have only to ask you,' said Dorn, 'to permit me to depart immediately for Schweidnitz with these ladies, and also your permission to take back with me the poor boy whom I tore from his friends in obedience to your commands.'

'Well, take the whole baggage, comrade,' said the duke beneficently: 'and a prosperous journey to you! I will cause the necessary papers to be given you.'

The duke kindly nodded permission to retire, and Dorn led the ladies from the hall.

'A happy escape from the lion's den!' sighed the matron with a lighter heart, as she turned her back upon the palace.

What may not one accomplish who is a man in the fullest sense of the word!' cried the enthusiastic Faith, pressing Dorn's hand to her heart.

'I know not,' said Dorn pensively, 'whether I shall have especial reason to rejoice at the turn the affair has taken or not. It just now occurs to me that the dismission of your persecutor from his quarters in your house, removes the evil which impelled you to leave Sagan, and that you may not now wish to accompany me to Schweidnitz.'

'O! we have on many accounts long desired to visit our Katharine,' said Faith with great earnestness. 'Our house can never remain long free from this detestable quartering, and who knows how the next may conduct himself! Besides, I fear the captain now as much as I did before. He has lost the power of tormenting us, and his bread into the bargain. He will soon be released from the guard-house, and a bad man, however insignificant may be his situation, has the power to injure with the will!'

'My daughter's zeal,' smilingly interposed the matron, 'saves me the trouble of explaining my reasons for wishing to go with you. Let it suffice, that we ride with you to Schweidnitz.'

CHAPTER IV.

At Schweidnitz, on new year's eve, the Fessel family were gathered around the well lighted and richly covered table; but no one had an inclination to eat; for Dorn, the idol of the house, was still absent, and anxiety for her beloved relatives saddened the countenance of the affectionate Katharine.

'I thought master Dorn would have kept his word better,' cried the impatient Martin, striking the empty seat which had been placed near him for the expected traveler. 'The supper will soon be over and still he is not here.'

'He will yet be sure to come,' said the confiding Ulrich. 'God grant it,' sighed Katharine. 'A carriage! a carriage!' cried the listening daughters, running to the window. 'It is father's horses!' they shouted. Out ran the two boys, overthrowing their seats with a tremendous racket; and, as if there had been a wager among the four children, which should first break their necks, they all rushed out of the door and down the steep stairs.

'Welcome to Schweidnitz, my dear mother!' joyfully cried the master of the house from the window, to which he also had hastened.

'Has my sister come with you?' asked the anxious Katharine, running to the door. The children had already let down the steps of the carriage, and madam Rosen with her daughter hastened to meet their expectant friends. The cloaks and wrappers soon fell off, and mother and daughters were clasped in a mutual embrace.

'Happily redeemed from the prison of the hateful Holofernes?' asked Fessel, affectionately greeting his mother-in-law.

'After great trouble and anxiety,' answered the widow, drawing a long breath, whilst the attentive Katharine was busily relieving her of her superfluous traveling garments.

'Had you not sent us so bold a knight,' said Faith playfully; 'to rescue us from the terrible giant, we should have been at this moment sitting in Sagan, listening to the insupportable boastings of the monster.'

'Where is the valiant knight, that I may thank him for his good service?' asked Katharine.

At that moment Dorn entered the room, leading the young Engelmann by the hand, and surrounded by the four children of the house.

'How! Do you bring the boy, also?' asked the astonished master, warmly embracing his book-keeper.

'He has permission to remain and pursue his studies here,' answered Dorn. 'Here is the Duke's consent in his own hand-writing.'

'You must understand the black art,' cried the overjoyed Fessel. 'I should sooner have expected to remove the everlasting hills from their foundations than to move the Friedlander from his purpose.'

'I could not, however, save your property,' said Dorn. 'The houses already lay in ruins, and all applications for indemnification are rejected by the ducal court.'

'I am sorry to lose the capital,' said Fessel; for I had already built a fine speculation upon it; but you have saved my dear friends, and so in God's name let the guilders go. Now seat yourselves and relate to me circumstantially how this eighth wonder of the world has been accomplished.'

They placed themselves at table. Dorn obtained a seat near the charming Faith; and, as among a swarm of bees, narrations and corrections, questions and answers, praise and astonishment, fear, anger and laughter, so buzzed about the table that the business of eating was scarcely thought of.

'Thank God we are finally here!' remarked madam Rosen, reaching her goblet of Hungary wine to the book-keeper, for the purpose of touching his glass. 'My best thanks,' said she with emotion, and at the same time gave an intimation to Faith to follow her example.

'Thank me not so much, dear madam,' said the youth with a pensive air, while touching glasses with the blushing maiden; 'else I shall have my whole reward in thanks.'

'And in consequence lose the courage to ask for a dearer one,' jested Katharine, who had noticed the glance he gave her sister.

'We are so merry to-night!' cried Fessel's youngest daughter, the little Hedwig, 'cannot you let us have the play of the light boats now, dear mother? You promised it to us on Christmas eve; which, by the by, was passed sadly enough.'

'Yes, yes, the light boats!' shouted the other children, clapping their hands.

'Well, bring the large soup-dish,' said the mother, who could refuse nothing to her youngest daughter; 'but be careful not to spill the water.'

'Glorious, excellent!' cried the children in chorus. Hedwig flew out of the room; the other children produced wax candles of various colors, and began cutting them into innumerable small pieces; while Faith, Dorn, and young Engelmann, were instructed to divide the walnuts, of which the table famished an abundant supply, in halves, and neatly to extricate the kernels without injuring the shells.

'I know not if you are acquainted with this play of the Silesian children,' said Fessel, laughing, to Dorn. 'It was omitted by us last year, in consequence of my wife's illness. It is a solemn oracle upon matters of love, marriage, and death. The children, however, do not trouble themselves about the serious signification; but only take pleasure in the movements of the boats and in splashing the water.'

The door now opened, and little Hedwig stepped into the room, with the large dish full of water in her hands, with a solemn and consequential air, and deposited her burden upon the centre of the table.

'Now put the lights in the boats,' commanded Martin; 'we have prepared enough of them.' A small wax taper was placed in each shell, projecting like the mast of a boat.

'Who shall swim first?' asked Elizabeth, lighting the tapers in two of the boats.

'Mother and father!' cried the others, and the shells were placed in the platter near each other, when they moved forth upon the clear liquid surface with a regular motion, and burning with a steady light, until they reached the opposite side where they quietly remained.

'We are already anchored in a safe haven,' said Fessel to his beloved wife; 'and in the quiet enjoyment of domestic happiness, we can have no wish to be restlessly driving about upon the open seas.'

'Ah, may God grant that the troubles of the times reach us not in our safe haven and rend our bark from its fast anchorage,' cried the true-hearted Katharine with timid foreboding.

At this moment the light in one of the boats began to hiss and sputter, and after flashing for an instant was extinguished, amid exclamations of sad surprise from the children.

'What does that forbode?--to whom does that boat belong?' asked Katharine, smilingly.

'That is not decided,' eagerly cried Ulrich; 'and the whole oracle is invalid.'

'Elizabeth filled the boat with water by her awkwardness, when she started it,' announced Martin, who had been investigating the causes of the accident.

'Every event in life must have had its cause,' said Fessel with more earnestness than the trifling accident merited. 'If this portends the extinguishment of the light of life in either of us, I pray God in mercy to grant that mine may be the first to expire.'

'Say not so,' tenderly replied Katharine. 'Our children would lose in you their only stay. Their mother would be more lightly missed, and the strong man would better bear the sad bereavement than weak and helpless woman.'

'Why this earnest and deep-meaning conversation on new year's evening?' said madam Rosen, half angry. 'Come, children; go on more briskly with your play and give us something pleasanter to think about.'

'Who comes next?' asked Elizabeth.

'Honor to whom honor is due,' laughed Hedwig. 'Cousin Faith must swim now.'

'But she must herself decide with whom,' said Fessel. 'I have not been at Sagan for some years, and know not who has made himself most agreeable to her.'

'Indeed, I know not whom to name to you,' said the maiden with a low tone and hesitating manner, blushing deeply for the untruth which thus escaped her lips.

'Then we will take master Dorn for the occasion,' cried the obstreperous Martin, whose natural boldness was increased by the wine he had tasted; 'he is constantly giving Faith such friendly glances!'

'It shall be so,' shouted Ulrich; 'and they shall have the handsomest tapers. Choose your own colors; here are red, and green, and white, and variegated.'

'Red for Faith and green for me,' quickly cried Dorn, silencing the maiden by a gentle pressure of her hand under the table, as she was about to make some objections.

'They must not, however, start together from the shore,' said Ulrich. 'Well, do you set the red ship on that side and I will place the green one here,' answered Martin; 'and then they may seek each other if they wish to come together.'

Brightly burning, the little barks swam towards each other for a moment; then, both floated to the edge of the platter and remained motionless, at some little distance apart.

'Master Dorn is too indolent!' cried Martin, throwing a nut-kernel at the green skiff to urge it towards the red; but it only reeled to and fro, without removing from its place.

'Insufferable!' cried Dorn. At that moment the water became slightly agitated, and both skiffs left their stations at the side for the open sea.

'Faith has jostled the table!' cried the falcon-eyed Hedwig.

'I--no--I wish to hinder their meeting,' stammered the confused Faith.

'Did you really jostle the table, dearest maiden?' asked Dorn, his hand again seeking hers.

'Ah, ah, my daughter!' reprovingly exclaimed madam Rosen, and amid the exclamations of the children the two skiffs met in mid ocean, while a gentle pressure from Faith's hand gave an affirmative answer to the bold question of the youth.

The joy of the children, which the grandmother's remonstrances only increased, was every moment becoming more bold and noisy. Without aim or object a crowd of lights were now set afloat in the mimic ocean, and apple cuttings and bread bullets flew like bombs among them, causing immense damage and innumerable shipwrecks. 'It is enough!' cried Fessel, the disturbance becoming excessive, and moved his chair from the table. A respectful silence succeeded the wild tumult. The children dutifully arose, folded their hands with a serious air, and Martin said grace with decent solemnity.

The mistress of the house now invited her beloved guests to retire to rest; that they might sleep away the fatigues of the day; but the children, who had again become as noisy as ever, and had not the least inclination to sleep, strongly opposed the movement.

'It would be fine indeed,' cried Martin, 'if we should have no writing of notes.'

'Pray, pray, dear mother!' entreated the flattering and constant petitioner, Hedwig. 'You well know that you promised me, if I filled a writing book without blotting, that I should be indulged with writing notes, on new year's evening. My last writing book is without a spot, and you must now keep your word.'

'Children are the most inexorable creditors,' said Fessel, directing little Ulrich to bring the writing materials from the counting-room, while the table was being cleared.

'This is a strange remnant of the old heathen times,' explained Fessel to the book-keeper, who looked inquiringly at him. 'It is a form of new year's congratulation, and an oracle at the same time. You write three several wishes upon three slips of paper, which you fold and give to the person who would try his fate. These wishes may be, honors, offices and success in business, to the men,--chains, bracelets, and new dresses, to the women,--agreeable suitors to maidens. All place the notes they have received under their pillows, and the wish contained in the one which is first opened on new year's morning shall be fulfilled in the course of the current year.'

'I always take great pleasure in this sport,' said Katharine to her mother; 'my husband is always so anxious to fulfil his oracle and to present me what is wished me in the note I open.'

'There comes Ulrich!' screamed the children, as he entered, heavily laden, and deposited his burden upon the table. The notes were prepared, and the whole family were soon seated around the table, moving their pens as assiduously as if an instrument was to be drawn for securing religious liberty. Amidst the scratching of the pens, which were very awkwardly handled by the younger children, and therefore made the more noise, arose the admonitions of the father to sit erect, and of the mother not to bespatter themselves with ink; which admonitions were obeyed just so long as they were heard. Meanwhile Dorn was sharply watching the paper upon which Faith was writing; who, as soon as she became aware of it, covered the writing with her little hand and whispered to him: 'If you watch me, you will get no packet from me to-night.' He discreetly drew back and began writing his notes.

Fessel now strewed sand upon his last note, enclosed it with the others and gave the packet with a kiss to his Katharine. The children snapped their pens to the infinite damage of the well scoured white floor, for which their grandmother very properly scolded them. Dorn handed his packet to the beauteous Faith, who hid hers in her bosom, strenuously asserting that she could think of nothing to write.

The clock now struck the midnight hour, and a peal of bells from the tower of the city hall greeted the new year.

'A happy new year! a happy new year!' shouted the children, springing from their seats; and the impetuous Hedwig proposed to open the notes directly, as the new year had already commenced; but Fessel interposed his decided negative and commanded them to defer it until the actual rising of the new year sun.

Amid the noise and confusion of the thousand new year congratulations, Dorn once more approached the lovely Faith.

'Must I enter upon the new year without one kind wish from you?' he pensively asked. She looked at him with embarrassment and irresolution. At that moment she was called by her mother who was already standing in the door. The startling call helped her to come to a decision, and, suddenly drawing the packet from her bosom and smilingly placing it in Dorn's hand, she hastened after her mother.

Long did the youth hold the much coveted packet pressed to his lips. 'How much earthly happiness,' said he to himself with deep emotion, 'have I destroyed in my military career. Do I indeed deserve that love should crown me with its freshest wreaths in a land I have helped to lay waste?'

Dorn, who had retired late and awoke betimes with the interesting little packet under his pillow, found himself at an early hour leaning against a window in the family parlor, and engaged in examining a delicate little note. While thus occupied, Faith, impelled by a similar restlessness, entered the room. As she perceived him whose image had embellished her dreams, an enchanting blush overspread her delicate face, and her beautiful blue eyes beamed with love and joy; but when Dorn, enraptured at the encounter, affectionately tendered her the congratulations appropriate to the new year's morning, changing her mood she turned away from him with feigned displeasure and exclaimed: 'Pshaw, captain! I am angry with you. You have wished me two horrible suitors.'

'Before I undertake to exculpate myself,' said Dorn, 'only tell me which you drew from the packet.'

'The duke of Friedland,' stammered the embarrassed maiden with downcast eyes.

'Look me directly in the eye!' cried Dorn, seizing the hand of the unpractised dissembler. 'Did you really draw no other name?'

'Ah, let me go,' she murmured, her confusion and maidenly timidity rendering her still more charming.

'You do not once ask what wish I have drawn!' said Dorn, holding up his note.

'Who knows whether you would tell me the truth,' answered Faith.

'Have a care,' cried Dorn. 'The suspicion can only spring from a consciousness that you have deceived me, and that is not fair. I will set you an example of ingenuousness. You wished a poor mortal to choose among three daughters of heaven. Love, Hope, and Faith, were inscribed upon your three notes. My good genius helped me to the best choice. Love I already had deep in my heart from the moment I first saw you; Hope visited me last evening; and I only lacked Faith in the certainty of my good fortune. I drew it with this note.'

'A gallant officer well knows how to convert trifles into matters of importance,' said the maiden, repelling the persevering youth. 'I wrote the three names for you, merely in jest, Faith, Hope, and Charity, because they follow each other in the calendar.'

'Only for that reason?' asked Dorn in a tender tone, throwing his arms around her slender waist. Endeavoring to push him gently back with her right hand, she dropped a note which Dorn caught up and read before she could hinder him.

'Victoria!' shouted he. 'You have drawn my name, as I have drawn yours. Who can doubt now that we are destined for each other? Obey the friendly oracle, dear maiden, and become mine, as I am yours, in life and death.'

He embraced the lovely creature more ardently, while she, no longer able to withstand the solicitations of the youth and the pleadings of her own heart, sank on his bosom, and exclaimed in low accents: 'Thine, forever.'

CHAPTER V.

'Well, really, master Dorn, you begin the portentous new year upon which we are entering in a very worldly manner,' cried a reproving voice behind them. Faith shrieked with terror that those blessed moments should have had a witness, and fled from the room. At the same time Dorn, displeased at the awkward interruption, turned suddenly round and stood facing the parson, who viewed him with severe and reproachful looks. 'Is it well,' at length said the angry preacher, 'to seduce the inconsiderate sister-in-law of your brother and benefactor into an amorous intrigue?'

'You are right, reverend sir,' answered Dorn; 'that would be to do him foul wrong; but to seek the honorable love of a maiden whom I hope one day to lead to the altar as my beloved wife, appears to me to be well, and is not forbidden in the holy scriptures.'

'You wish to espouse the maiden, then?' said the parson; 'that is quite a different thing, and I take back my censure. In that case my office imposes upon me another sacred duty. The maiden is how under my spiritual care, and I must be answerable to heaven for her religious principles, which might be perverted by an unbelieving husband. I have become doubtful of you, from your own conversations, and therefore, as a called and ordained servant of the word, I ask you, are you an orthodox Lutheran christian?'

'You would find it very difficult to justify that question before the great author of your reformation,' answered Dorn, moodily. 'Know you not how peremptorily he forbade the professors of his doctrines to designate themselves by his name?'

'You wish to evade my question!' cried the parson, feeling the sting, but endeavoring to conceal the smart.

'That is not my custom,' said Dorn. 'I will never deny that I adhere to the doctrines which were first promulgated in Switzerland, and have thence spread throughout the German empire.'

'As I feared!' cried the parson. 'A Calvinist, or perhaps even a Zuinglian! and you wish to take a wife of the Augsburg faith?'

'Why not?' asked Dorn. 'That God who has disposed my heart toward the maiden, will not be angry that I choose her as my companion for life.'

'I much doubt whether you can have and keep a true heart for one who is of a different faith,' said the parson, shaking his head.

'God, who is eternal love, pardon you for the doubt, reverend sir,' said Dorn with emotion. 'It is a sad consideration, that contentions about unimportant dogmas and forms so frequently divide christians who should stand united against the common enemy. It would be dreadful if the feeble chains by which you are yet fettered, after throwing off those of popery, should bar the way between two innocent individuals, whose souls have become united by the bonds of holy love.'

'Unimportant dogmas and forms?' repeated the parson.

'I consider them so,' answered Dorn. 'Adhering to the words of Christ, we celebrate, in the Lord's supper, only a holy remembrance of the Savior; while you, by virtue of the same words, find therein a mysterious presence of his body and his blood. You ornament your churches with pictures, of which practice we disapprove. Are such differences really sufficient grounds for the quarrels and contentions which the followers of both confessions continue to wage against each other with such reprehensible bitterness?'

'You wilfully overlook a principal point,' said the parson; 'the almost insurmountable partition wall which your Calvin has raised between you and us. I mean your monstrous doctrine of election. Aliis vita æterna, aliis damnatio æterna præordinatur! How can you reconcile this declaration with infinite love and eternal justice?'

'I willingly give up these doctrines to your disposal,' answered Dorn; 'for they have never formed a part of my creed. Even Calvin himself stated, that he had some scruples whether predestination could be reconciled with God's wisdom, the rock upon which this doctrine has always foundered.'

'I take this concession for all it is worth,' said the parson; 'but I cannot pass over your assertion, that our difference upon the subject of the Lord's supper is a contest de lana caprina. Because your presumptuous reason cannot comprehend the declaration of our Savior, 'this is my body,' you wish to strike it out of the bible; but this we cannot permit; because we cannot give up one tittle of God's word, and because the communion solemnity falls to the ground when the mystery becomes robbed of the wings which bear it up to heaven. If, however, you take away from the holy scriptures all that is not clear to you, nothing will remain but a good sensible book, but with no high revelation which can only be received by pious faith. If you can see nothing in the sacrament of the Lord's supper but a remembrance of its founder, you need not partake of the bread and wine. Without this medium it would be impossible for us to forget our Lord and Master.'

'Sensual man,' answered Dorn, 'needs sensible signs as symbols of spiritual things. To be reminded of the author of our religion is to be reminded of his doctrines; and as he established this solemnity and consecrated it to the remembrance of himself on the evening before the death with which he sealed his doctrines, so must it, according to our creed, be deemed sacred--must soften and purify our hearts, and inspire us with devout and holy resolutions, which is the important point in question for you as well as us. We consider the mystery unnecessary, and we have the voices of the earliest churches with us, as the transubstantiation doctrine of Paschasius Radbertus, from which yours but very little differs, was first heard of in the ninth century.'

'For a book-keeper and ci-devant military officer you are deeply learned,' remarked the somewhat excited preacher.

'My early religious education,' answered Dorn, 'was superintended by a well informed, clear headed Bernardine monk, who afterwards, like myself, went over to Zuinglius's belief. I may thank him that I at least know what the point in dispute is,--a knowledge which, alas, is needed by many thousands of our brethren in the faith.'

'I supposed something like that,' said the parson. 'But I interrupted you. Proceed with your pretended refutation of my arguments.'

'Excuse me from answering further,' modestly replied Dorn.

'Because you cannot answer them!' exclaimed the parson in imaginary triumph.

'These controversial battles,' calmly continued Dorn, 'have been too often fought in vain for me to hope that we can be brought to agree. I have not endeavored to defend my doctrines; but only to show that a difference in creeds need not divide hearts. I abide by my tenets; but I believe that you also may attain salvation with yours. Believe you the same of mine, as I doubt not you do, and we can readily co-operate for the advancement of the good cause. The remaining topics of difference are not essential. Here it only concerns us, setting aside the creeds of men, to hold the doctrines of Christ as the true teachings of God's holy word, and by them so to govern our minds and actions that we may win the approbation of a good conscience, a serene dying hour, and a merciful judgment. That, in my opinion, is the true, living, christian faith; and whoever has it is our brother in Christ, whether he calls himself Lutheran, Calvinist, Zuinglian, or even catholic.'

'My God! you are then not even a Zuinglian!' angrily exclaimed the parson. 'This despicable toleration of all opinions is godless indifference, behind which naturalism and deism conceal themselves. Were you an intelligent and confirmed heretic, the argument might be continued; but you are nothing but an eclecticus, who seeks in christianity just so much as suits his purpose, and throws the rest aside!'

'Paul said, 'prove all things and hold fast that which is good,'' interposed Dorn.

'I am well satisfied that you do not desire to know any thing of the true faith,' continued the parson; 'and yet it is the only foundation of our religion. Know you not that Christ himself has said, 'he that believeth not shall be damned?''

'If you could convince me,' angrily remarked Dorn, 'that Christ intended those words to mean what intolerance would construe them, I would become a heathen from this moment, and joyfully take my portion in that hell in which the noble Socrates and just Aristides are burning.'

The parson started back with a shudder. Dorn checked himself and continued in a subdued tone; 'Be not alarmed, reverend sir, at my audacious words. My belief is not so bad as you fear. Would to God all christians had it, and then much less of tears and blood would be made to flow. Now repeat to me, quickly and peacefully to end our strife, that which Christ pronounced to be the chief commandment of God.'

'Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and thy neighbor as thyself,' said the parson.

'Even thine enemy!' added Dorn. 'How much more then those who only differ from us in opinion! Here you have my profession of faith, and I trust in God that I shall be able to stand before him at the last day with it.'

'You confound ideas,' cried the vexed parson. 'You speak of christian ethics, and I am reasoning only of the articles of faith.'

'Devised by men!' said Dorn. 'I hold the chief point to be the observance of the system of morals taught by Christ. Do not you also?'

'No!' emphatically exclaimed the parson after a short pause.

'No?' asked Dorn with some surprise. 'The divine doctrine that we must live devoutly to die happily, not the substance of our religion! Ah, my dear sir, it was your cloth, and not your head or heart, which dictated that negative. You are too good and too intelligent not to be of my opinion.'

'Ah, do not press me with such argumenta ad hominem,' said the parson with excited but not unfriendly feelings. 'In point of fact there can be no disputing about matters of faith. It must come from within, and cannot be derived from without. Nevertheless I do not for that reason give you up. A time will come when you will be no longer satisfied with cold syllogisms, and you will then seek a refuge in the open maternal arms of the true faith, in which only you can find peace. Until when, only let your conduct be as fair as your speech, and I shall at all events hope that the maiden will not have made a bad choice. One thing, however, you must promise me with hand and word. Urge not upon your future wife your unbelief, or half belief, or whatever else you may choose to call it. Cause her not to waver in her own, which she has imbibed with her mother's milk. Yet more than the strong and self-relying man does weak, delicate and suffering woman need a steadfast faith. You would rob her of a belief, which is capable of sustaining her in the hour of sorrow and trial, and give her nothing in return but cheerless and disconsolate doubt; which would be an exchange unworthy of the magnanimity of a man.'

'In this case you are for once wholly right, my worthy friend,' said Dorn: 'and I promise you with this handgrip, by God and my honor, to do as you require. Now let a lasting peace be concluded between us. When we hereafter meet above, as I firmly believe we shall, when the scales shall fall from our eyes, when we shall clearly see what we perceive but dimly here below, then shall we as surely be one in knowledge as we now are in feeling, and side by side before the throne of the father of all men shall we unite with full hearts in the song of praise to the one true God.'

'So may it be!' cried the parson, pressing the youth's hand and leaving the room with visible emotion.

CHAPTER VI.

In the forenoon of the 20th January, 1629, a joyful bustle prevailed in Fessel's house. The floors and steps were carefully swept, strewed with a beautiful yellow sand, and adorned with evergreens. A large fire was crackling in the kitchen, before which the spit was turning, and pots and stew-pans were steaming. The diligent housewife, notwithstanding the ready assistance of her mother, had her hands full of business; her two daughters, who insisted on being employed, hindered more than they aided her; and the sons who, with their cousin Engelmann, had just returned from school, raced about the house like wild animals, practically illustrating the 'Dulce est desipere in loco,' which they had that day construed in their class. In short, it was the betrothing day of the beauteous Faith and Fessel's new partner in business, master Dorn.

The interesting pair had just returned from the church, where, in pursuance of a good old custom, they had made their mutual engagements in the presence of their God, and commended themselves to his protection by pious prayer. In the house-door they encountered their brother-in-law, who was returning from the city council-room, where his attendance had a short time before been required. He was, however, unusually pale, returned but brief thanks for the joyous greeting of the lovers, and silently mounted the stairs with a slow and dull motion, as if he had been troubled with asthma.

'In God's name, my brother, what has happened to you?' cried Dorn, returning from the kitchen, where he had left his fair companion.

'Dark clouds are beginning to overshadow our horizon,' answered Fessel, with anxious concern. 'Colonel von Goes has arrived, and demands permission to march through the city with seven squadrons of the Lichtensteins.'

'Goes!' exclaimed Dorn, becoming paler than his brother-in-law, and covering his face with his hands.

'What is the matter with you?' asked the astonished Fessel. 'Do you know so much evil of the man?'

'From the knowledge I obtained of him during my military service,' answered Dorn, making an effort to command himself, 'I may pronounce him a good soldier, and a man of honor; but he adheres to the catholic faith with ferocious zeal.'

'We are under no obligation,' continued Fessel, 'to admit troops within our walls, except upon the especial command of his imperial majesty....'

'You will not do so on this occasion!' exclaimed Dorn with fearful vehemence. 'You will render the people of your city miserable if you open your gates to these dreadful protectors. They have given a specimen of the manner in which they treat protestants, at Glogau.'

'What can we do?' said Fessel, shrugging his shoulders. 'The honorable council have a great inclination to admit them, and for that purpose hastily called some of the most respectable burghers to the town-house, to give their opinions as to what answer should be returned to the request. We honestly stated to the gentlemen what we expected of them. The colonel then remarked, that he hoped we would not show such disrespect to the imperial troops, as to compel them to take a wide circuit round the city in the present cold state of the weather. He then proceeded solemnly to swear and protest, that he only desired a passage through the city, and a brief rest for the refreshment and recovery of the frozen. Indeed, he said he would have no part in God's kingdom, if any citizen were injured in consequence of the granting of his request.'

'For God's sake, trust not to that oath,' begged Dorn.

'If the colonel be a man of honor, as you say, wherefore not?' asked Fessel with surprise.

'Have you forgotten that horrible saying, hæreticis non est servanda fides?' cried Dorn. 'No time is to be lost in averting the evil. The council is still in session. I will accompany you to the town-house, and ask leave to address them upon this matter. Schweidnitz must not open her gates to these hordes. They certainly can show no mandate from the emperor, and if the worst come, we have walls and ditches, and strong burgher hands accustomed to the use of arms, to defend our dearest treasure, religious freedom.'

During this conversation, he had with eager impetuosity drawn his brother-in-law towards the door. There they heard the distant notes of a march from trumpets, clarions and kettle-drums, and the confused murmurs of a crowd reached them from the great public square.