"Martin and I have been told even now what you can do. You can make the hearts of all the worshippers in all the reformed churches in Germany swell amidst their worship. Yes," she persisted, smiling at Liese's countenance of astonishment, "the last anthem, that sweet solemn music with which it was given you to charm our ears, has moved others also; and, as I said, it is already sung wherever our faith has spread."

This day formed another era in the spiritual history of Liese. While with rapturous gratitude she poured out her private thanksgivings for her newly-appreciated powers, the finger of God seemed to point out her path of beneficence. She devoted her heart and understanding to labors which had till now appeared alien to her sphere. She cultivated her intellect and her tastes, as husbanding a possession common to society; she diffused their treasures as that of which she was but the steward, and estimated their value by their diffusiveness. But one doubt troubled her for a while amidst this course: her present occupations were precisely such as she loved the best, and she feared lest she should lose sight of the principle of benevolence in pursuing them.

"I have heard my husband say," replied Catherine, in answer to this doubt, "that the snare is where the duty of the time is irksome. All smoothness and pleasantness in a worthy task is a smile of Christ, and all reluctance is a buffet of Satan."

Liese was helped by experience to expound this pithy saying into the truth that every virtuous labor is easy in proportion as it approaches perfection; and that when a work is ascertained to be virtuous, increased pleasure in it, so far from being a snare, is a token of progress. In the same manner as perfect love casteth out fear, does perfect benevolence cast out reluctance; and both are crowned with rejoicing.

Deep was the peace which settled down upon the household at Wittemberg while pursuing their benevolent toils, though papal bulls were abroad to devour them, and there were tumults of friends and enemies afar off. No one who witnessed was more struck with this than Helena, when, after many months, she found Liese still an inmate of Catherine's dwelling.

Helena had soon obtained release from the authority which had become too irksome to be borne: she had since married, and before returning to Nuremberg, visited Wittemberg to persuade Liese to take up her abode with her.

Frequent and furious were the execrations she had heard of Luther, and of his innocent and beloved wife. Not long before she came within sight of their town, she was told that Satan was among them, punishing them already by the restlessness of an evil conscience for their sins against St. Peter. Neither her husband, who was a reformer, nor herself, believed anything of this; but yet they were not prepared for the scene about to be presented to them.

As they entered the apartment where Luther's family assembled in the evening, they found all engaged according to their wont. The grand work of revising the new translation of the Scriptures was now proceeding. At a table beneath the lamp, sat Luther, his large head and massy features cast into a strong light, while the countenance of his companion, Melancthon, was shaded by the black cap which he usually wore. These two were now poring over books, and now exchanging remarks, while Liese sat, pen in hand, and with her manuscripts before her, ready to note down to their dictation. Catherine's seat was next her husband's; and she sang in a low tone one of the airs with which she was wont to soothe without interrupting his toils, and which now served to lull her infant to rest. Around them was furniture which, however homely, comprehended

all that was needful for luxury as well as comfort; for there were books with which they might nourish, and music to refresh, their minds when weary. When Martin afterwards took his place at the organ, and encouraged the recreations of his family and guests by mirth as well as music, Helena wished for no greater punishment on his calumniators than that they should look in upon his privacy, and see how the object of their persecution speeded his days with toil, and solaced them with song.

Helena and Catherine contended long for the possession of Liese. Each pleaded Each pleaded "she is my friend;" and each would have had her promise to live always with them. But Liese would promise nothing more than to remain where she was for the present. She could scarcely gain by any change, for neither with the Hüsens nor with Helena could she be so useful, or, in consequence, so happy. How useful, how happy, how extensively changed she was, she became partly aware, for the first time, the day after her present meeting with Helena.

"See," said Helena, "here is a sketch I have brought you. Our mother could not spare the painting, of course; so I could only bring a poor unfinished copy: but your memory will fill it up."

"Our convent!" exclaimed Liese. "The very place! There is the curtain of ivy hanging over the gate, and the bell, and the roof of the chapel, and my window "Yes, Liese. I drew that little lattice very distinctly, partly for your sake, and partly for my own, in memory of that evening when first we handled and spoke of this book;" and she held up her bible.

"And here," continued Liese, "winds the way down the steep which we descended trembling, and not knowingah! how little guessing, what was before us!"

She was silent. When Helena observed her fast-falling tears, she added,

"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."

"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.

1

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.