"Yea," replied Luther.

"David thought it an honor to be a door-keeper to the tabernacle; and it is a glory to St. Peter, - the true St. Peter, to hold the keys that Christ gave him. But heaven has other doors, and there may be other keepers; and I wot of one who praises God, as I said, that instead of being turned out himself, he stands to call others in with the cross in his hand for a rod, and the Gospel for a golden key of like workmanship with St. Peter's."

And is there a charge for every devotee?"

Yea, for every one. God's work is not done in a day, though that day be eternity; and none need be idle but they that have nothing to do but to lie and be tossed on the burning lake. If any love such idleness, let them go into a convent, which is ever built close upon the brink. Well I wot I saw something of the dancing of the fiery waves when I was there, though I did not, like some, clap my hands for admiration, and take it for the sun shining on Christ's golden palace."

Liese slept not at all this night; and the first question she asked of Laura in the morning was, what Martin preached the evening before. Merely on the sinfulness of the violence by which Carlostadius and others had disgraced the Gospel; and the subject was to be resumed this day. Was there no doctrine? Little or none; he preached peace, and therefore dropped his warfare with the Pope for the time. This being fully ascertained, little persuasion was needed to induce Liese to attend his service.

When her perturbation on first entering a temple of the reformed faith had somewhat subsided, she became sensible that portions of the prayers were like an echo of some that had been between herself and her God. Losing the sense of where she was, yielding to the emotions of sympathy with those around her, she, for the first time, called them

brethren and sisters in her heart, and no contradiction came from above or from within.

The emotion of universal benevolence having been once indulged, time only was necessary to establish the principle in the heart of Liese. Time was given before any adverse influence arose, and then the principle was so confirmed, that the adverse influence only added to its strength.

The next year of the life of Liese glided rapidly away, amidst her studies, (diligent and profound for the age and for her circumstances,) amidst her communion with Nature, her deeds of benevolence, and her exercises of piety. Each of her occupations assisted the rest, and more especially the two most important. Her petitions for others were only the more fervent, when she prayed in their behalf for spiritual light as well as temporal blessings; and the ardor of her intercessions sent her with increased eagerness to relieve the sorrows for whose removal she prayed. So evidently safe, as far as it went, was this state of mind, so palpably true were the workings of her affections in these cases, that she felt relieved of much anxiety about herself. She felt she might trust herself, in a greater measure, to her own impulses, and relinquish some of the discipline, which, as she no longer needed it, could only impede her progress. She prayed more, and therefore used fewer forms of prayer; she denied herself more, and therefore fasted less she was happier than formerly, more useful, more beloved, and her devotions therefore had more of praise in them, and less of penitence; there was full employment in the present for all her faculties of mind and soul, and she therefore looked back into the past but seldom, and contemplated the future more in the realities before her, than in the visions which floated afar.

Helena was in the place which she frequently occupied at the table of the Hüsens one day, upwards of a year from

the time of Luther's visit, when a dispatch arrived which astonished and somewhat dismayed the whole party. The abbess of Liese's convent, of whom they had heard nothing for many months, but who had probably been better informed of their proceedings, now admonished her dear daughters to repair to their mother in God, who yearned to embrace them once more, and to nourish them with the grace with which she had been gifted for their sakes; and which had been so long kept from them by the troubles of the disorderly, that they must needs be pining for it. She could not, of course, enter the walls of Nuremberg, but would await them at Saalberg, whither they would be conducted in safety by the bearers of this letter, dictated (for she was by far too holy to have learned any worldly accomplishments) by herself, as would be testified by the signet which they must well remember. The bearers of this dispatch sent in word that they could wait no longer than till the next morning.

Though they disliked the suddenness and peremptoriness of this summons, and did not know to what it would lead, the friends would not listen to any persuasions to disobey their Superior. They had not loved her in former times, but their remembrances of her were softened by absence, and by some sympathy in their mutual trials during the years of separation; and they each owned that they wished to see her again. During the rest of the evening, and till they were actually in the saddle the next morning, it was pressed upon them by the friends they left behind, that their monastic vows were dissolved for ever, and that it might become a duty, from which they must not shrink, to assert their freedom by returning, in case of any attempt to impose a restraint upon their consciences.

Their love for their Superior had cooled to its ancient temperature before they had been many hours in her mater

was now making a

She had tried to

nal presence. The circumstances she had gone through had confirmed all her faults; and the few virtues she had formerly displayed, did not appear so well in the open air of the world, as in the recess of her convent. She could not forgive the loss of her power, and last attempt to recover a portion of it. recall one after another of her scattered brood, but some were fluttering and warbling far out of reach of her cry, and some were nestling close, warm, and safe, and would not be tempted forth again into the storms that were still lowering around. Liese and Helena were the only ones who obeyed her summons; and in her delight at resuming her office of schooling, she marred her own interest, and estranged them at once and for ever.

After a very long lecture on the damnable crime, not only of heresy itself, but of tolerating heresy, which contained allusions too personal to be mistaken, she proposed a walk; a very acceptable relief to her auditors, but one which she would not have afforded but for a special purpose of her own. She led the way to a hovel at a little distance from the town, and insisting with much earnestness on their not touching the threshold, or speaking to any one they might see, bade them look in at the open door. There was a dreadful spectacle. A poor maniac, a young woman, was crouching down in a corner, shivering with cold, (for her rags did not half cover her,) and chained by the ancle to one of the door posts. There was no furniture in the place but the straw on which she lay, and no traces of food but an empty trencher. She looked wild but not violent; and Helena immediately asked if she was harmless. Liese had no doubt of it from observing that the chain was long enough to allow her a certain range round the hut, instead of confining her closely. She was accordingly going to enter, when the abbess siezed hold of her with a cry of

terror. Liese pointed to the fetters, and was about to explain: but her Superior went on exclaiming, "Avoid her! avoid her! she is possessed."

Possessed, mother! how do you know?"

"Her husband was burned for heresy, and she has been possessed from that hour. Satan entered into her when the pile was kindled; a fearful warning, my daughter, and one which I brought you hither to behold."

The warning was, however, lost upon them. Liese gently approached the sufferer, and took her hand, and seated herself beside her, while Helena desired the servant who attended to hasten for fuel, food, and clothes. The counter-orders of the abbess, however, could not be disobeyed, and Helena must go herself or no one. Helena looked to Liese for guidance.

'Go," said Liese, firmly; "her pulse is fluttering, her eyes are glazed, she is utterly exhausted. There can be no doubt in such a case. Go quickly."

The abbess feigned to depart by another way, and leave Liese alone with the maniac; but neither did she thus prevail; and finding she did not, she had the grace to remain within sight, and see what became of her spiritual daughter,

when thus left to contend with Satan.

Nothing very tremendous happened. By sunset, the sufferer was nourished with warm food, cleaned, clothed, and quietly laid on a couch, something softer than the one she had occupied so long. She never spoke, but smiled when Liese bade her farewell, and promised to return in the morning.

The abbess soon found silence the most dignified part she could choose, as her admonitions, though meekly received, produced no effect. She had gone too far in her representations of the danger of assisting an heretical outcast; for Liese knew that sentences of excommunication had lost