'Surely, Liese, though you have no domestic ties like Catherine and me, you have no wish to be dwelling on that steep again?"

"God forbid!" cried Liese; and a bright light burst through her tears. "I was only thinking how little we knew of true worship when we feared lest prayer should fail because that convent bell was hushed; when you and I drew the line between Satan's prey and the redeemed; when we hated thousands whom we had not seen, and loved but a very few, and strove to love those few less that we might love God more."

66 And now, Liese

But Liese was silent. The contrast was not to be drawn in words. It could be fully owned only to Him who ordained and blessed it; and even thus, fully aware as she was of her privileges, and conscious of the depth of her present peace, she was far from looking upon herself as society would have looked upon her, had it known all.

In a short time she became, though unseen and little heard of, one of the most powerful agents of the Reformation. Correspondence, conducted by her, circulated through all the provinces of the empire, and supplied fuel to the wrath of Henry of England, and topics of invective to the cardinal, his minister. Versions of the Scripture, transcribed by her, carried the knowledge of the Gospel into a thousand homes. Hymns, composed by her, exalted the devotion of a thousand churches; while, retired from observation, she knitted the hearts of others to her own far more closely than if she had loved none beyond; and worshipped God far more devoutly than when the service of the head and hands was wanting. Her worship had been an effort; it was now spontaneous. It had been periodical; it was now perpetual. Its song had died away in a solitary cell; it was now vibrated through the atmosphere of the

globe. It had been the servile whisper of a shackled slave; it was now swelling into the melodies of a spirit, ever singing while roving through the universe.

SOLITUDE AND SOCIETY.

THE gates of a gloomy state-prison in Austria were one day unbarred at the approach of a carriage escorted by a small party of soldiers. As soon as the draw-bridge could be let down, a stranger alighted from the carriage; the portal closed behind him, the troop of horse returned the way they came, and the only information which the villagers could obtain from the warder was, that the stranger was a foreigner, and a prisoner for a state offence. The unfortunate man was soon forgotten, and no particulars of his fate ever transpired in that neighbourhood.

In his native country, however, his story is no secret. He was an Englishman, named Helmer, a gentleman and a scholar, and though committed under circumstances of strong suspicion, wholly innocent of any connexion with the political intrigues of the country through which he was travelling. He had too much reason to believe that he should be left for years, perhaps for life, to suffer the horrors of an Austrian state-imprisonment, without the means of communication with his country, and under the total deprivation of personal comforts; like too many who have lost reason and life in such an abode as he had now entered. Though, by a strong effort, he preserved an appearance of calmness in the presence of the officers of the prison, a feeling more like despair than he had imagined he could ever experience lay heavy at his heart.

His anticipations exceeded the truth, as he acknowledged to himself when he surveyed the apartment to which he was conducted. It was neither dark nor cold, and it opened upon a part of the battlements, to which he was told that he had liberty of access at all times. It is true, his walk was limited to fifty paces; but from these limits he could enjoy an extended prospect through various loop-holes in the parapet; and while the winding valley lay before him, while the dwellings of men were visible, and the greater and lesser lights of heaven were open to his view, the fear was removed that his mind would prey upon itself from the exclusion of a variety of sensible objects.

When his jailer had left him, the first employment of the prisoner was to examine the bounds of his dwelling. No possibility of escape existed, even by the last resource of a despairing mind - self-destruction. There was no access to his apartment but by the well-secured door by which he had entered there was no egress but upon the battlement, the parapet of which was on every side too lofty to be scaled by human foot.

"till

“Here I am, and here I must remain," thought he, a power greater than my own shall set me free. My business is now to think as much and feel as little as I can. I must lay my plans, and ponder my duties; for even here there is a rule of duty and a choice of plans.. If I had but occupation! But I will, if possible, obtain books and paper. If I cannot, I must try what my years of study have done for me, and how far an active mind can subsist upon stores already digested. There surely are resources by which the intellect as well as the soul may be preserved from corroding itself. While I can retain the conviction (and surely I shall ever retain it) that a vivifying, refreshing influence is ever present to the soul, which can sustain its vigor for any length of time and under any circumstances,

I need not fear the effect of an imprisonment, even of years, if I can but prevent my intellect from stagnating, or from being over excited, of which there seems nearly equal danger, if I am to be denied employment. My mode of life, so quiet, so nearly solitary, should have prepared me better than others, one would think, for such a life as I may have to lead for months or years in this place: yet my spirit rebels, my blood boils under this tyranny, as if I had roved the earth like a Tartar, or fought for liberty like him whom I rejoice to have known, though my friendship with him has brought me here."

He paced his apartment with a more rapid step as his thoughts grew more disturbed, and his indignation at the abuse of human power rose higher. Helmer was a philos opher, and when he found his passions swelling to a very unphilosophical height, be broke off his train of thought, and repaired to the parapet to look abroad upon the free earth and the expanded sky. The sight of human dwellings reminded him of his home, of the only sister who would soon look for tidings of him, and be disappointed; of the friend who would probably arrive in the neighbourhood to search for him, and leave him behind in the fruitless inquiry. Thoughts such as these were not of a kind to restore him to tranquillity; but there is a power in the influences of nature to which such a mind as Helmer's is never insensible, and which acts as medicine to fevered thoughts. The shadows drew off from his soul as they spread over the scene beneath him, and wonted associations arose with the star of evening. He felt ashamed of the selfish cares and fears which had so much occupied him during the day; and when the jailer entered with a light, Helmer felt more inclined than before to ply him with questions which would probably not be answered, and less impatient of the few civilities which the man seemed disposed to offer.

"Who has the command of the castle?" he inquired. The jailer did not see how it concerned the geutleman to know.

"I care not for his name; but I want to learn how to address my request for an audience."

"You will be sure to see him one of these days. He goes the round occasionally."

This was a satisfactory piece of intelligence.

Helmer's next inquiry was about his property, especially his books; and above all, one volume which he desired to have, whatever became of the rest. The jailer knew nothing about books. Helmer described the peculiarities of the volume he wanted. He reasoned on the harmlessness of the occupation of reading, and on the hardship of being deprived of it. It was in vain. He offered a reward; but even this failed. It was no part of the jailer's business, and the gentleman must apply to the governor.

The jailer, as he pronounced this decision, was fastening the door which led to the parapet. Helmer requested him to leave it open. The man hesitated.

"What are you afraid of?" said Helmer.

way

"There is no

of escape, unless the Evil One should fly away with me." "He would be more likely to leave you here, unless he has an especial love for you," said the man, with a grim smile. "But I don't know why you are unwilling to be shut in from the night air. If you could give me a good

reason

66

My reason is simply that I am not a very good sleeper, and it is a pleasure to me to watch the stars."

The jailer left the door unfastened, but gave notice that he might return if the governor should object to such an indulgence of the prisoner's wishes.

Helmer retired to rest with the hope that before another night should close he might have seen the governor, have