"'The woodpecker tapping the hollow beech-tree;'
only there are no beech-trees on the place. You may hear him on an oak, though."
"This hazy light under the pines—through the pines—is bewitching. O October! O Mosswood!" Meredith exclaimed. "What is so pretty as these autumn woods?"
"What are you going to read us to-day?" said his sister. "Don't get poetical."
"I will read you one or two little bits first, which touch something Maggie and I were talking of yesterday. We do not want a bonfire to-day; it's too warm."
"No; we will make just a tiny little blaze by and by, to boil our kettle. It would be too warm for a bonfire; and there are no trees here to be cut."
"I should think not!" said Meredith looking up at the blue-green pine needles over his head. "Well, here's a story for you."
"Heathen?" asked Flora.
"No, Christian. 'There was a man, once upon a time, whom God had richly blessed. He had received a year's income of seven hundred thalers. Four hundred of them he needed and used for his house and family wants, and three hundred were left over. So he thought at first he would put the money out at interest, and enjoy the comfort of receiving rents which were growing while he was sleeping. As he was just setting about this, he read in a mission paper about the wants of the heathen; and the Sunday next following he heard a preaching about how the dear Lord is the safest of all to trust money to, and gives the best interest. So he made a short piece of work of it, and sent his three hundred thalers to the dear Lord for the conversion of the heathen, and said, "Lord, take Thou them; Igot them from Thee, and there is all this left." "Wife," said he, when he came home at evening, "I have done a good bit of business to-day; I have got rid of my three hundred thalers, and am quit of any care of the money, over and above." "Then you may thank the dear Lord for that," said his wife. "And so I do," he answered.
"'Do I not hear at this point, not merely many a child of the world, but also many a believer, secretly half saying, "No, but what is out of reason is out of reason!"—and so do I see a certain compassionate smile playing about mouth-corners. But wait a bit; there is something coming that is more crazy yet. The next year the man was overloaded with such a blessing, that instead of seven hundred thalers, he made fourteen hundred thalers, and he did not know where it all came from. Then what does he do but take the surplus, one thousand thalers, and send it to the mission. Is the story true? do you say. You can ask the Lord "in that day;" he knows the story.'"
"I like that," said Maggie.
"Why?" Flora asked.
"I think it is nice," said Maggie with a shrug of her shoulders.
"I don't see it. What good to the man to have twice as much as he had before, if he must give it all right away again?"
"Why, he has the pleasure of giving it!" cried Maggie.
"And it shows, at any rate, that he did not get poor by his first venture," said Meredith. "And the Lord will reckon it 'at that day' as all done for Him."
"I don't think people are obliged to give away all they have got," said Flora.
"Suppose they do not reckon anything they have their own? The Christians in the early times did not, if the Lord's work or the needs of others wanted it more."
"Extravagance!" said Flora. "Just enthusiasm."
"Come, I will read you another story. But the poor woman who gave all she had into the Lord's treasury was not rated as a fool byHim. I will read you now—
"'A PROBLEM ABOUT STUTEN MONEY.
"'Most of you know, it is true, right well whatstutenmoney is, but certainly all do not. Among us, when people go to church on Sunday, the children and younger serving people of the peasants get a groschen to take along, with which they can buy a stuten, that is, a white roll, at noon when they come out of church; by the help of which they can stay in the village and so go to church again in the afternoon. Now there are a boy, a girl, and an old woman known to me, who have no other money but the stuten money they get on Sundays. So each one of them falls to considering how he or she can do something for the heathen. And they arrange it on this wise. One of them every other Sunday eats no roll, and thinks within herself, "I ate as much as I wanted this morning at home, and I can do the same again this evening." The two others buy each a small roll for half a groschen, and lay up the other half-groschen every Sunday; and when the year comes round, they have all three of them, counting the festivals, thirty groschen saved up, and bring them with glad, smiling faces to go for the conversion of the heathen. And upon being afterwards asked whether hunger did not often trouble them on Sunday? they say, they have always felt as if they had had enough; and, with God's help, they will do the same way next year.'"
"What sort of a story do you call that?" asked Flora when her brother paused.
"I call it a story of what can be done."
"AndIcall it a story of what ought not to be done. Both the children and the old woman needed their bread for themselves; it was not good for them to go without it. And what is a groschen? or thirty groschen?"
"What are 'two mites, which make a farthing?'"
"Oh, that is in the Bible."
"But it was in a poor woman's heart first, or we should never have had it in the Bible."
"Well, look at our luncheon," said Flora.
"I will look at it when I see it. What then?"
"Do you mean that we shall do wrong to eat it?"
"Not at all."
"How can those people be right and we not wrong?"
"Yes, Ditto," said Maggie. "I do not understand."
"Those people must give their groschen or give nothing. It was all they could give."
"But we might give more than we do, if we would live on bread and water," said Flora. "If we are to give all wecouldgive, our luncheon would come to a good many groschen, I can tell you."
"We must ask Mr. Murray. I am not wise enough to talk to you," said Meredith. "I hope he will come; we are getting work ready for him. Meantime I will read you another little story. Maybe we shall find some light.
"'AS POOR, YET MAKING MANY RICH.
"'There was a poor day-labourer who lived by his work from hand to mouth. He heard it read out of the Old Testament, that under the old covenant every Israelite was bound to give to God the tenth of all his incomings. That went through and through the man's head, and he thought: Could the Israelites do that by the law, and should not we Christians be able to do it by the love of Christ? So, honestly and faithfully, he lays by the tenth of his daily wages; the Lord blesses him, so that many a time he earns sixteen groschen a day; and at the end of the year he comes with his hands full, bringing sixteen thaler twenty groschen for the conversion of the heathen, and with hearty pleasure; and he says, "The love of Christ constraineth me so, I have wanted for nothing."'"
"Not much of a story," said Meredith, in concluding, "but a good deal of a suggestion."
"Suggestion of what?" asked his sister.
"Duty. Certainly a Christian ought to be able to do more for love than an old Hebrew did for law; and from this time I will imitate that old German fellow."
"But, Ditto," exclaimed his sister, "a tenth ofyourincome, you must remember, is a great deal."
"Not in proportion," said Meredith. "He would want every one of his remaining groschen for his necessities; I should not. It seems to me, the richer one is, the larger the proportion should be that should go to the Lord's uses."
"I shall ask Mr. Murray to make you reasonable!" Flora exclaimed. "Stop talking, and go on with your reading."
"The next story is about 'One Groschen and Two Pennies.'"
"'It is true what the Bible says—"The Lord maketh sore, and bindeth up; He woundeth, and His hands make whole." My heart learnt the meaning of this word when a short time ago I had to expel two pupils from the Mission-house, who had been led astray by Satan. This gave me great pain, but it had to be done, for their sakes and for the sake of the house; and it was somewhat alleviated in that they came back sorry and penitent and were taken in again.
"'To the honour of the Lord I will here speak good of the balm which shortly after my great hurt He laid upon the wounds. May it have somewhat of the sweetness of that ointment which filled the whole house.
"'Soon after the departure of the pupils was made known, I had a visit from an eight-year-old boy. He had a groschen in his hand and a reading-book under his arm. He told me that he had found this groschen fourteen days before on the way to church; that he had asked his father to publish the discovery, and he himself had announced it in school. But nobody had been found to own the groschen. I said to him: "Well, what do you think, my child? does the groschen belong to you? will you buy something with it?" The boy answered, "No, the groschen is not mine, so I am not going to keep it. I will give it to the dear Saviour for the poor heathen children, to get a spelling-book for them." When I questioned him further, he said that once in the church, where his father takes him every Sunday, I had said "whoeverkeeps what does not belong to him is a thief; and"—he added with great seriousness, "you said, a Christian child must not be a thief!" I received the groschen now and thanked him. But the boy had not done yet. He asked me if it were true that two of the pupils had been expelled from the Mission-house. When with a sorrowful face I assented, he answered, "You need not be so troubled about it. You can send me instead. I can spell already, and I will soon learn to read." When the little fellow with great earnestness had said that, I could not help folding him to my breast in heartfelt gladness. Then I knelt down, and together with him prayed that the Lord would some time make a true missionary of him. He went away at last, but could not at first rightly understand how it was that I had as yet no use for him.
"'Soon after this, I receive a letter from a dear friend who had been making a lively stir in the matter of the Mission among his school and the parish to which his school belonged. The Lord had granted him access to the hearts of great and small, and with cordial pleasure he had been collecting till he should have a full thaler made up, which then should be sent me. Now he wrote the thaler was made up, and he sent it, and this was how it had come about. In a hospital, where he is accustomed to hold devotional service for an hour, he had mentioned the conversion of the heathen. The next day came a widow, shoved four groschen under one of the books which lay on the table, and then, with a greeting from her children, laid two groschen on the table, saying, "Now the thaler will be made up!" To this Mission thaler, which indeed was made up now, a little girl of nine years old had every Sunday contributed two pennies, which she received from her mother to buy rolls with. Some time after, the mother brought the child's two pennies again, silently; but it struck our friend that she had great tears in her eyes. The thing was soon explained. The child had fallen ill. Sunday her mother said to her, "To-day you shall keep your roll for yourself." "No," the child answered, "I could not be easy if I did. I promised mydear Saviour once, that as long as you gave me two pennies to buy rolls with, I would give the money on Sunday for the heathen." How glad that true mother's heart must have been! She had reason to say, "But what a value these two pennies had for me! I could not let them out of my hands at first, for joy." God bless mother, child, and teacher! The Mission must indeed thrive when such gifts are offered. From another dear friend of missions, personally unknown to me, moreover, I received a contribution for the Mission, in the making up of which both men and beasts had given their help. The contributors were specially mentioned, the men at their head; then at the conclusion followed, "A hen, so much and so much."'"
"Well, Ditto," said Flora, "I will say, you do read the most extraordinary stories."
"Like them?"
"No, I don't think I do much. Do you bring them forward as our examples, hen and all?"
"You might do worse."
"But, Ditto," Maggie said anxiously, "you do not think we ought to go without what wewant, do you, for the sake of the heathen?"
"Ask Mr. Murray that question, Maggie. Whose hat is that I see over the wall, coming up to the gate?"
Maggie jumped up to look, and then, with a scream of "Uncle Eden! Uncle Eden!" sprang away down the path to meet him. The others dropped book and work and followed her. The pine wood was screened off from the shrubbery and pleasure grounds (but indeed all Mosswood pretty much was pleasure grounds) by a low stone wall, in which wall a little gate admitted to the entrance of the wood. By the time Mr. Murray, skirting the wall, had come to that point, the group of young people had reached it also, and there Mr. Murray received a welcome that might have satisfied any man. Maggie threw herself on his neck with cries of delight; Flora's bright, handsome face sparkled with undisguised pleasure; even Esther looked glad, and Meredith's wringing grasp of the hand was as expressive asanything else. Surrounded by them, almost hemmed in his steps, questioned and answered and welcomed, all in a breath, by the gay little group, Mr. Murray slowly made his progress along the pine walk towards the present camping place. He had got the round-robin, yes, and he had obeyed their summons as soon as he could after clearing away a few impediments of business; he had made an early start, and come all the way that morning from Bay House, and he was very glad to be with them. Now what were they going to do with him?
Saying which last, Mr. Murray stretched himself on the soft carpet of pine needles and surveyed the tokens of work and play around the spot.
"From Bay House this morning! And no lunch yet? That's good!" cried Maggie. "Now, dear Ditto, the first thing is to give him something to eat. He must be ravenous. If you'll build a fireplace, I'll make the fire, and then we can have the kettle boiled in a very little time."
Mr. Murray lay on his elbow on the pine needles and watched them as Meredith built a few stones together to support the tea-kettle, and then he and Maggie ran about collecting bits of pine and pine cones and fuel generally. And then there was the careful laying of dry tinder together, and the match applied, and the blue, hospitable smoke began to curl up under and round the kettle, and an aromatic, odoriferous smell came floating in the air.
"This is better than anything I have seen for some time, children," he said.
"Ah, wait!" cried Maggie. "We have got stewed pigeons for lunch."
Mr. Murray laughed. "What are you all doing out here,besideseating pigeons?"
"We have set out with the determination to live out of doors," said Flora; "and so we do it. This is the third day, and it is absolutely delightful."
"What are you doing?"
"I see you looking at our worsteds—aren't they pretty colours, Mr. Murray? Esther and I play with these, whileDitto reads to us. And we have laid up a great deal of work for you."
"In what shape, pray?"
"Questions. Somehow, as we read, we get up difficult questions, that nobody can answer, and that we are not all agreed upon; and then by general consent we refer them to you."
Mr. Murray watched the tiny tongues of flame which were darting up round the tea-kettle, where Maggie sat supplying small sticks and resinous pine cones to feed the fire. The scene was as pretty as possible; Meredith roaming hither and thither collecting more fuel, and the shawls and even the worsted lying about, with the gay, young figures, touching up the gipsy view with bits of colour. He watched in silence.
"Mosswood is the most delicious place we have ever seen," Flora went on.
"Almost any place is good in October. How pleasant this veiled light is! What are you about, Maggie?"
"This is the pot of pigeons, Uncle Eden; we are going to get them hot. The kettle boils; now would you like some coffee, Uncle Eden?"
But Mr. Murray declared himself satisfied with tea. And in a little while the scene became more gipsy than ever; except that gipsys are not supposed to indulge in much refinement of china cups and silver spoons. Everybody was picking pigeon bones, however; and bread and butter, and cups of tea, and baked potatoes (which came out hot from the house, brought in a basket by Fairbairn), and peaches and pears to conclude with, were discussed with great enjoyment and amidst a great deal of talk. Fenton arrived from the fishing to take his share; but I do not think he was as glad to see his uncle as the others had been; and as soon as lunch was over he took himself away again. Then cups and plates anddébriswere packed away into the cart; the little fire had burned itself out; fingers were washed in Eastern fashion, somebody pouring water over the others' hands; and at last worsted needles and knitting needlescame into play again, and the circle was made up around Mr. Murray, who declared himself to be quite refreshed and rested.
"Ready for questions, Uncle Eden?"
"Are the questions very deep?"
"Oh, yes, Uncle Eden; none of us can answer them."
"They had need be profound! How did they come up?"
"From Meredith's book. Ditto was reading to us some delicious stories about the old Saxons, and their ways and their gods; and we have ever so many questions to ask you, Uncle Eden."
"Have you any more of those Saxon stories on hand, Meredith?"
"Plenty, sir."
"Then I wish you would go on and read another; and so I should perhaps get into the atmosphere of your questions. Besides, I feel like being luxurious and lazy in this warm, spicy air. Suppose we have a story now, and the questions by and by?"
They were all agreed to that. Maggie settled herself to listen comfortably, and Mr. Murray lay on his elbow and looked thoughtfully into the reader's face, or into the blue-green pine wilderness around, or above to the quiet, clear blue which stretched over all; but if Mr. Murray's body was resting, I am inclined to think his mind was busy enough.
"'The story that I am going to tell you now shall bear the heading, "The Hearts of the Children turned to the Fathers." I read it with a deal of trouble in an old, yellowed manuscript which the mice had gnawed at. But it bears so entirely the impress of truth that it may speak for itself, although the things happened more than a thousand years ago. I would rather, if I could, give it again exactly as it stood written in that manuscript; but I am unable to do so, because I only made extracts from it. I found the MS. in the library of the Town House at Lüneburg, where I was staying for a few days just then, and with the permission of both the burgomasters of the city, I searched the Town House library through. When later I came to live in Lüneburg for many years, these and other old MSS. were no longer to be found; and I heard that a Jew, to whom the burgomasters had sold a number of old suits of armour and weapons, had probably demanded to have these manuscripts into the bargain, thinking that he might in England dispose of them for a high price. The MS. was entitled: "Res gestæ Landolfi, Apostoli Salzonum, qui Horzæ ripas ad habitant;"i.e., "Acts of Landolf, the apostle to the Saxons who lived on the Oerze." I have told you already many things about this Landolf. It has been mentioned that he built the first wooden church in this whole region of country, there where the heathen god Woden's place of sacrifice had been; which place, under the name of the "cold church," still belongs to the Hermannsburg glebe, ever since the church was burned down in a predatory inroad of the Wends, and Hermann Billing built the stoneparish church in Hermannsburg. I have told you too of this Landolf, how he had gradually converted the whole region to Christianity, like a skilful general, consecrating to the Christian faith for the worship of the true God, precisely those places where the heathen had been wont to adore their false idols, so that the triumph of Christianity could in nothing have been more forcibly manifested than in this founding of Christian altars and chapels on the very places where previously the heathen abominations had been enacted.
"'One hour from Hermannsburg above on the Oerze, two little rivers, the Oerze and Wieze, flow into one another. Such meetings of two rivers are called in High German Münden, in Low German Müden; so accordingly the village situated at the meeting of the two rivers above mentioned bears the name of Müden. Just a little above the place where the Wieze flows into the Oerze, in the middle of the latter river, lay a wonderfully beautiful little island, almost like an egg in circumference, which had a circuit of perhaps from ninety to a hundred paces. How often when I was a child have I visited that little island, and stayed there for hours at a time! In the whole surrounding region I knew no lovelier place, and it was always a particular delight to me when I could wander that way. On both sides of the island the swift-flowing, clear waters of the Oerze went rushing past, transparent to the very bottom, over the glistening sands of which, and among the long, thick, green tufts of the water ranunculus hosts of nimble trout played and darted about. A little bridge on each side connected the island with the two shores. If you crossed the bridge which spanned the left arm of the Oerze, you came into green meadows and the parsonage garden, which extended along the left bank of the river, enclosed with a hedge as high as the trees. If you went from the island over the bridge of the right arm of the Oerze, you were in the courtyard of the parsonage, where the pastor's dwelling stood. This island was entirely framed in with high oaks and alders; and a number of mighty old oaks, with large trunks,and lifting their heads high in air, grew on the island and wholly overshadowed it with their green roof of leaves. So still it was, so cool, and so secluded, upon this island that even the fiercest summer had no power over it; it was green and fresh when everything around it was withered and dried up by the hot sunbeams. And now as I write this it stirs me with pain to be forced to say that this island has disappeared! How can that have come about? It has fallen a sacrifice to the idol of Utility. The fine oaks have been felled, and used for building timber; the alders have been cut down and turned to firewood; the island is no more, for the two arms of the Oerze have been dammed up, and a straight river bed carries the Oerze now through green meadows which stretch along both shores. Yes, these are beautiful too, these green meadows, and they are very profitable also at the same time; but the wonderful beauty of the island is departed, vanished with no trace of it left; and in the entire valley of the Oerze there is not a place that can be compared to it. See, my dear readers, this is what is done by the much bepraised "Enclosings," which could have originated only in our earthly-minded age; and which spare nothing, neither right nor usage; respect no old legend, no old custom; have no eye at all for beauty, rate everything only according to its utility, and cannot endure anything round, but favour only straight lines and sharp corners. Even the very unreasoning beasts mourn over the way in which the "Enclosings" are carried on. The valley of the Oerze, once thickly peopled with nightingales on both shores of the river, now has not a single one to show; the poor creatures love the thicket, the dim light, the shade and solitude, where they sing their songs to God and men; but the new-fangled clearings drive the whole away together. That is no matter; to be sure their singing brings no money in.
"'Well, on this old island in heathen times was the sanctuary of the god Thor, or Donner, as he was likewise called by our forefathers. Among these oaks and alders stood his altar, a big round stone of granite. Near this great stonelay a vast number of what are called thunderbolts; for every thunderbolt that a Saxon found he laid down at Thor's, or Donner's, altar. Now if you do not know what thunderbolts are, go to your pastors or to some other learned folk, and they will tell you, and perhaps show you one. The learned call them Belemnites. They are longish, round, wedge-shaped stones, pointed below, growing broader above; at the point they are quite solid, and have a so-calledPeddig, that is, a fine, round core, as in the middle of a tree-stem, which, however, is entirely turned to stone; towards the other end this core grows thicker and more crumbly, and at last the stone becomes quite hollow. These are petrifactions of sea animals, which have remained since the time of the flood. In my childhood the people still called these stones "thunderbolts," and the belief was generally prevalent that in heavy thunder-showers such thunderbolts fall from the clouds upon the earth. That belief had its origin in the heathen time. It was the belief of our heathen ancestors, that Thor, or Donner, the son of their principal deity Woden, was the god of thunder; a man with a handsome, serious face and yellow beard, whose blast caused the thunder, and who in thunder-storms drove through the air in a chariot drawn by goats, and then in the lightning cast his thunderbolts on the earth, so that men might fear and honour him. And he was not only the god of thunder, in the belief of our forefathers, but the god of justice also. Whoever wished to confirm a contract with his neighbour, made it before the altar of Thor; and whatever had been promised "by Thor," could not be taken back. Also, as people believed, he watched over all laws and rights in the land; in the taking of oaths he was the witness appealed to. And woe to him who perverted law and justice, woe to him who swore a false oath; Thor's thunderbolt was sure to fall upon the audacious transgressor and dash him to pieces. And so, from this it came that every thunderbolt found was laid down at Thor's altar, as witnesses for the god who guarded laws and rights, and punished covenant-breakers and false swearers with hisstrong hand. He dwelt among oaks, elders, and alder-trees; for which reason these trees, which were sacred to him, were always found about the places where sacrifices were offered in his honour. Our forefathers were known for their inviolable truth. Even the heathen historian Tacitus says of them, that the word of a Saxon was worth more than the oath of a Roman, and that among them good customs were regarded with more reverence than good statutes among the Romans. From this you can easily imagine in what high honour the god Thor was held by our forefathers, and how sacred was Thor's place of sacrifice. But alas! the full ferocity of heathenism also came out in the worship of Thor; for human victims were slain in his honour whenever, through some failure of faith keeping or breaking of a covenant, a curse rested upon the community. And how often may not yonder little island as well have drunk the blood of slaughtered men!
"'Now in Landolf's time, when he and the Christian doctrine had already been received at old Hermann Billing's, the priest of Thor's sacrificial altar on the island I have described was a silver-haired old man, whom the MS. calls Henricus,i.e., Heinrich, who also for long years had been a faithful friend of Hermann. However, since Hermann had become a Christian, Heinrich had proudly withdrawn from him; he held him to be a covenant-breaker, and threatened him with the judgment of Thor, which sooner or later would fall upon him because he had forsaken the faith of his fathers. Hermann sought an interview with his old friend, but the proud priest of Thor refused to give it. Now, when in the great assembly of the people at the stone-houses, of which I have formerly spoken, Landolf received permission to declare the Christian faith openly in the whole country, he did not fail to visit among other places also the sanctuary of Thor upon this island, and to preach the gospel to the people who gathered there for the offering of sacrifices. Heinrich had no liberty or power to hinder the preaching; but when it was done he came out as its most decided opponent, and declared in unmeasuredterms that the Saxons who had turned or who should turn to Christianity were covenant-breakers, on whom Thor's vengeance would speedily fall. In flaming zeal, with these words he lifted one of the thunderbolt stones which lay beside Thor's altar, showed it to the people, and threatened that with such weapons Thor would punish the apostates. Then arose Landolf's commanding figure, and looking at old Heinrich with a gentle, happy, beaming smile, he spoke:—
"'"Brother, the Christian's God is better than your heathen god. See! all this while He, the only true God, has borne patiently with your heathen ways, has seen how you slew human sacrifices and became murderers of your fellow-men; and instead of punishing you for your sins and transgressions, He has borne with you in great love and patience; and now still He is not lifting His arm of vengeance against you, but is saying: 'Children, I have overlooked the times of ignorance; but now the time of salvation has come, I open to you my arms of grace and pray you, be ye reconciled to your God.' Butyourgod knows no love. Hermann has not transgressed in anywise; he has only become a Christian; he simply abhors the transgressions which he used to commit. He proves his love towards you; he has kept his friendship for you; he has besought you; 'Brother, come let us talk together about our beliefs, and see whose faith is the right one.' The God of the Christians has taught him to love like this. But you, you hate the brother whom once you held dear, who has done nothing to harm you; you refuse him so much as a friendly interview; your heathen God has taught you to hate like this. Men," he went on, turning to the people who stood around them,—"which is the right God? the God who loves and teaches to love, or the god that hates and teaches to hate?"
"'The people maintained an agitated silence; it had become as still as death, so that one could hear the very breaths that were drawn. Thereupon Landolf raised his voice again, and told the people of the love of our God, who parted His only-begotten Son from His fatherly breastand sent Him down to poor sinners to take pity on them; and then he went on to tell of the love of the Son of God, who forsook the throne of His Father, came to men, took part with their flesh and blood, in the heroism of love went about among men, followed by His faithful apostles; everywhere as the Mighty One, God's champion, overcoming Satan, setting men free who were fast in his toils, opening the eyes of the blind and the ears of the deaf, making the lame to go and the sick to be well; even laying hold of mighty Death with His divine hand and forcing him to let go his prey; and how at last this true Hero of God, in order to save the whole captive world from its common oppression under the evil one, and that He might with justice and righteousness set them free, offered Himself up for sinners, for them suffered death, went down into the grave and Hades to overcome death, hell, and the grave; thence to rise victorious, and to go back to His Father, and to sit down again upon the throne of God, from which He had gone forth. And even there His love and pity never rest; from thence He is constantly sending out His apostles and prophets; and has sent me to you. Not to punish, not to condemn; no, but to pray you, Be ye reconciled to God; to show you His arms of grace spread to receive you; and to tell you, Come, for all things are ready; the courts of heaven where Jesus reigns stand open to you. His blood has redeemed also you; He will forgive your sins, and has prepared mansions for you to dwell in. Repent and be baptized, that your sins may be forgiven, and that you may be the children of God.
"'After giving such testimony, Landolf kneeled down, as it was always his wont to do after preaching to the heathen, and prayed to the Lord Jesus that He would enlighten the minds of the heathen by His Holy Spirit to receive the word of divine teaching, and that He would open their hearts as once He opened Lydia's; he even had the boldness to ask the Lord to witness for Himself, as the living God, among the people there assembled.'"
"What did he mean? a miracle?" Flora asked.
"I suppose, something like the signs that used to be asked for among the Jews in old time. Not a miracle exactly; and yet they were miracles too."
"What, Ditto? I don't remember," said Maggie.
"Don't you remember how Samuel asked for a sign from heaven once, and the Lord sent thunder, though it was a time of year when storms never come. Then Elijah asked for a sign of fire, and the fire fell and burnt up his sacrifice with the wet pile of wood on which it lay, and licked up the water in the trench. Don't you recollect? It was that sort of sign the Jews used to ask Jesus to give them, and He never would."
"I wonder why," said Flora.
"We must ask Mr. Murray. I do not know. Any more remarks? or shall I go on?"
"Oh, go on, dear Ditto."
"'Landolf rose up, quiet and joyous. It seemed as if every man were pondering in his heart the preaching and the prayer; all were yet hanging upon his words, when up rose Heinrich's three sons, priests of Thor like himself, along with his only daughter, a priestess of Freija, whoso sanctuary was situated about three hours further up the Oerze. They cried in an open outburst of rage,—"Our general assembly at the stone-houses has led the people astray, in suffering the Christian preacher to proclaim his Christian faith. Come over to us here, whoever is true to the gods of his fathers! Death to apostates, and the vengeance of the gods!"
"'The people went over to the side of Heinrich's children. Landolf stood alone.
"'Landolf folded his hands in prayer, and looked up to heaven with sparkling eyes; his heart accepted joyfully the martyr's crown, with which he thought God would adorn him. Once more he fell upon his knees to pray, and cried out in a clear voice, "O Lord, my God, I see heaven opened. Lord, I come gladly, but bless this people. Bless these my countrymen; do not charge their sins upon them; bring them to the true, saving faith of the Christians; make themchildren of thy Church." Then he stepped up to the people and said, "Put me to death. I go gladly to my Jesus in heaven."
"'Upon this, old Heinrich stepped out in front of this faithful witness of the Lord, and with emotion he had hard work to keep down, he spoke: "Thou hast a brave heart. Thou shalt not die a coward's death. I love thee; thou art a hero, and thy Christ is a hero too. He died for sinners, thou sayest, and has vanquished death and the grave and hell. I will see if I can love Him. I cannot yet."
"'Scarcely had he finished speaking, when Hermann hastily came up. He had followed after his beloved Landolf, that he might see what turn things would take; for he knew that he was gone to the island. He stretched out his hand to Heinrich, and Heinrich did not turn away, but grasped it. And then the old man brought them both into his house. In the meanwhile the sky became overcast with dark clouds; before anybody was aware, the heavens had grown black, the thunder rolled and the lightnings darted. "Thor is driving in the clouds!" cried the young priests; "he is angry at the Christians!" "The God of glory thundereth; the Lord is upon many waters; the voice of the Lord divideth the flames of fire," cried Landolf; and with Heinrich and Hermann he went over to the island. The crowd stood there hushed; every eye was fixed intently upon the black clouds and the flashing lightning. Then there came a crash through the air, a blinding blaze darted out of the clouds, passed through the crowd, and shattered to pieces the sacrifice stone. Not a man was hurt. Then Landolf called out aloud: "'O Lord God, gracious and merciful, long-suffering and abundant in goodness and truth, that forgiveth iniquity and will by no means clear the guilty!' Brothers, the Lord has spoken from heaven. It is not Thor that is God; surely else he would not have destroyed his own altar and borne witness against himself. The Lord, He is the God; He has shattered the altar and left you alive; give the glory to God."
"'The people dispersed. But Heinrich repaired to Hermannsburgwith Hermann and Landolf, to the dwelling of the former, and remained there eight days; during which time he was instructed by Landolf in the Christian faith. This teaching took deep hold of him; yet more did the utter revolution in Hermann's domestic life. After the eight days, he went back with the two to the little island, and was baptized in the Oerze. And on the spot where the round stone had been, there was a little chapel built, with an altar, and on the altar stood the image of the crucified Christ. This was the second great victory that Landolf fought for and gained. From that time forward Heinrich was his faithful helper. All the great influence which until then he had enjoyed as the much reverenced priest of Thor, he used now only for the glory of Christ. It seemed as if the old, grey-haired man had become young again. With all the zeal of a first love, with all a young convert's ardour, he witnessed for the Lord Jesus Christ, the mighty Hero, the Conqueror of Satan and of Thor, who had offered Himself a sacrifice for men and died a hero's death; and in crowds the Saxons came over to him, and by crowds they received baptism from Landolf. His own sons alone remained hard, and his daughter was unmoved. This last, Ikia the chronicle calls her, never entered her father's house again; and the three sons, Tyr, Freyr, and Schwerting, who had so tenderly loved their father and so deeply revered him, declared to him now that they were no longer sons of his, since he was no longer priest of Thor. So then the venerable old man, sometimes alone, sometimes with Landolf or Hermann for a companion, every week set out to pay a visit to his sons and his daughter and preach the Lord Jesus to them. In the winter he was not to be daunted by the snow, nor in summer by the burning sands; leaning on his staff he pressed on through it all. The love of Christ fired him, and love to his children urged him forward; he would so fain take them with him to heaven. He had brought them up in the idolatrous worship of Thor; if they were lost, it seemed to him it would be by his own fault. Therefore he made his weekly pilgrimages to them,since they avoided his house as though it were spotted with the plague. And then, when he had preached Christ to them, he went back to pray for them. Yes, he even made it a persistent petition that the Lord Christ would not let him die until he had seen his children walk in the Lord's way.
"'A year and a half went by in this manner, and still the hearts of his children seemed unimpressible and hard as stone. But Heinrich walked, preached, and prayed indefatigably, until at last he gave way before the strain and the burden of years. Eight days he lay on his bed, and yet wrestled with God that he would not let him die before he had seen the conversion of his children. He sent messages to them, telling them that he was sick; they never came near him. He sent to entreat them to come and receive his fatherly blessing; they answered, they did not want it. And so all hope seemed to melt away. But the Scripture says with truth, that Love is stronger than Death. And if human love upon earth is so strong, how great and strong must not the love of Jesus be!
"'One morning, Landolf was sitting beside his friend's couch, trying to comfort him, and, as he thought, to prepare him for death, when in came Schwerting, the youngest of Heinrich's sons, and spoke: "Father, Ikia wants you. She is sick unto death, and wishes to ask you to forgive her; she sent me to you. But you cannot come," he went on; "you are sick unto death yourself, and it may be will die now before Ikia, your child; and oh, she is so troubled, for she has never seen you again since that day on the island, and that is her fault!" At this, something like the glow of the sunlight swept over Heinrich's pale face, and leaning over to Landolf's ear, he whispered to him: "Pray to Christ with me, that I may go to Ikia, my daughter, and you will go along, that I may see her baptized." And Landolf kneels down by his friend's couch and prays, and Heinrich on his bed joins in the prayer, and they hold up to the Lord the word that He had given—"If two of you shall agree on earth as touching anything that ye shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father which is in heaven;" and they doubtnot that He is the Almighty and living God; therefore they ask that He will give strength and grace, that Heinrich may come to his daughter Ikia and see her baptism. And when they had finished praying, Heinrich rose up from his couch, bade them bring his horse, begged his friend and his son to help him to mount, and when he was seated on the beast's back he went forward, up the Oerze, towards the sanctuary of Freija, where Ikia was priestess. Landolf on one side, Schwerting on the other side, led the horse, and supported the tottering old man. Whoever met the procession joined it, for God's hand was plainly there, and after three hours of travelling Heinrich reached Ikia. He found her dying, but still in full possession of her senses. A happy smile flowed over her death-white features. "Father," said she, "the Christian's God is the true God. His hand has been too strong for me. I have been a godless child towards you; will you forgive me?" "My child," said her father, "I have forgiven you, and I have prayed to my God that He would not let me die till I have seen your conversion and that of your brothers—till I have seen you turn from false gods to the living God who has made heaven and earth, who has died for sinners and made intercession for the transgressors. I forgive thee, my daughter, and Christ also forgives thee, if thou wilt be baptized for the remission of sins. See here," pointing to Landolf, "here is the priest of the Lord. Let Landolf baptize my child before she dies. Ikia, wilt thou be baptized?" She said, "Father, will Christ take me?" "My child, I have received you and not been angry with you, and I am a sinful man. And Christ, my Lord, is the Son of God; He died for sinners, and now He lives, and has the keys of hell and of death. He will receive thee, only believe." She turned her eyes inquiringly upon Landolf, and he spoke; "Ikia, it is written in the Word of my God, 'This is a faithful saying and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief.' So says the holy apostle Paul. And Jesus spoke to the thief on the cross, who had just been reviling him, but now had bethoughthimself, turned, and said, 'Lord, remember me when Thou comest into Thy kingdom'—He said to him, 'Verily, I say unto thee, this day shalt thou be with me in paradise!'" "Then baptize me, father, before I die. I believe that Christ is the Son of God." And Schwerting went out and fetched water in a bowl, and handed the bowl to Landolf. But when Landolf had spoken the prayer over the water, and was about to baptize Ikia in the name of the Triune God, then down kneeled Schwerting at the side of his sister's couch, and from the crowd of people collected before the open door hurriedly broke forth two tall men and kneeled down by Schwerting's side; and all three cried out, "Father, baptize us with our sister!" The baptism was performed. And when it was done, and over the four newly baptized had been spoken the Word—"The God of all grace, by whom you have been born again in the washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy Ghost, strengthen you and uphold you firm in the faith unto the end. Peace be with you,"—then the voice of old Heinrich, who had sunk on his knees, came out in a shout of joy. "Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace, for my eyes have seen the salvation which I prayed the Lord for, that He would not suffer me to die before I had seen the conversion of my children." And when he had said that, he bowed his head and departed, and Landolf caught the dying man in his faithful arms. Ikia however did not die; the Lord, who had quickened her spiritually, gave her also her bodily life again. She recovered, and her recovery was a new salvation. For soon after, Freija's altar was broken to pieces, and an altar was dedicated to Christ on the same spot by the staunch Landolf, who founded a cloister there,monasterium, as it was called, from which the place took the name of Munster. Heinrich's body was laid to rest in the churchyard at Hermannsburg. So were the hearts of the children turned to their fathers; and it was not long before heathenism had disappeared from the valley of the Oerze, and the Lord Jesus was become the King to whom every knee in the country was bowed.'"
"Uncle Eden," said Maggie, "do you like Meredith's story?"
"Yes."
"Do you feel like talking now, Uncle Eden?"
"What about?"
"But I mean—do you feel liketalking—about anything?"
"Depends on the subject, Maggie. Hark to that woodpecker!"
"Mr. Murray doesnotfeel like talking, I know," remarked Flora. "He feels—if he ever feels!—lazy."
"No, Miss Flora, not exactly. And yet, how delicious this quiet is!"
"And the smell of the pines!"
"And the warm, luxurious air!"
"And the light through the pine branches, and upon the coloured leaves yonder."
"Yes, and the blue of the sky," said Mr. Murray, who lying upon his back had a good view. "Blue, through the pine needles. Such an ethereal, clear blue; not like summer's intensity."
"I like summer best," said Flora.
"I like this. But what did you want to talk about, children?"
"O Uncle Eden! a great many things. You see, we do not all think alike."
"Naturally."
"And we want you to tell us how we ought to think."
"Youdo," said Mr. Murray laughing. "That willanswer for ten years old. I am sure the others are more independent."
"But we want to know whatyouthink, Uncle Eden—about ever so many things. We have been saving them up till you came. Ditto wants to know what Christians ought to do—about some things."
"And I hope you will tell him, Mr. Murray," said Flora, "what Christians oughtnotto do—about some things."
Mr. Murray raised himself up on his elbows and looked at the young people around him. It was a very pretty picture. Fair young faces, that life had not clouded, intelligent and honest; bright young figures in all the freshness of neat attire and excellent personal care; the setting of the green wood, the brown carpet of pine needles, the hazy October air, here and there the crimson of a Virginia creeper, here and there the tawny hues of a cat-briar or a wild grape-vine; stillness and softness over all, the chirrup of a cricket, the cawing of two crows flying over, the interrupted tap of the woodpecker, just making you notice how still and soft it was; and then the bright, living young faces raised or turned, and waiting upon him. Mr. Murray looked and smiled, and did not at once speak; then he asked what subject came first. So many answers were begun at once that all had to stop; then Maggie, getting the field, said—
"We want to know how much a Christian ought really to give, Uncle Eden."
"Say, rather—how much he ought to do," put in Meredith.
"Yes," added Flora; "we do want instruction on that point. Some of us are rather wild."
"Too big a subject for the present time and place," responded the referee of the little company. "To-morrow is Sunday; let us keep it for to-morrow, and come out here, or to some other place, and discuss it."
"That is delightful!" cried Maggie clapping her hands. "Now, what were some of the other things, Ditto?"
"About the Saxons. But Mr. Murray did not hear our first story."
"Oh, I know. I guess he knows. You do know about the old Saxons, don't you, Uncle Eden?"
"I know there was such a people."
"And you know they were very good and very bad—both at once; and we wanted to knowhowthey could be so much worse, and yet so much better, than people nowadays."
"How 'so much better'?"
"They told the truth, Uncle Eden."
"There were no cowards and no marriage-breakers among them," Meredith added.
"And then how 'so much worse'?"
"Oh, they were cruel! they offered human sacrifices; they were frightfully cruel."
"Yes," said Mr. Murray thoughtfully; "the contrast seems strange. They were a noble people in many ways."
"But Pastor Harms says they are not half so good now that they are Christians," Maggie went on.
"If that is true, there must be a reason for it."
"Yes, Uncle Eden, of course."
"And that reason cannot be found, in their Christianity."
"But how is it, Uncle Eden?"
"Human nature is very much alike at all times, my child."
"But the old Saxons were not like the old Romans, Uncle Eden. The word of a Saxon was better than a Roman's oath."
"And the modern Saxons are not like their forefathers," said Meredith; "at least, according to Pastor Harms."
"I have no doubt he is right."
"And Frenchmen are very different from Englishmen," added Flora.
"And both from Americans. And the Dutch from all three. We might go on indefinitely."
"Yet they are all descended from Noah's sons," Meredith remarked.
"It is a very curious subject, and rather deep for some of the present company. Many things go to make the differencesbetween one nation and another. In the first place, the several families of Shem, Ham and Japheth are all strongly marked."
"Are they, sir?"
"Then, among the tribes of any one family, differences grow up from many causes. From the sort of country they inhabit, the climate that prevails, the scenery their eyes rest on, the ease or difficulty of obtaining food, and the means necessary to that end; from the religion they believe in, their situation with respect to commerce and intercourse with other nations; their habits of life superinduced upon all these."
"But the modern Saxons live where the old Saxons did, sir?"
"Barely. The country was at that time all one wild tract of forest and moor, where life had need be of the simplest; and where it was sustained in great measure by the chase and by a rude husbandry. No cities, no churches, no libraries, no merchants, no lawyers, no fine furniture, no delicate living. Nobody therefore wanted money, and nobody tried to get it. That makes all the difference in the world, children."
"Money, Uncle Eden?"
"Look at the map of Germany now; run your eye over the cities. Remember the treasures of art in this and that gallery; the beautiful old buildings almost everywhere; the great trading houses; the life of complicated interests, political, literary, scientific, social, critical, artistic, mercantile; think of the books, the pictures, the statuary, the jewellery, the carvings and engravings, the luxurious and magnificent living. Everybody wants money now, and nearly everybody either has it, or is working hard for it."
"Does money make so much odds in national character?" Meredith asked.
"It is the root of all evil," Mr. Murray said smiling.
"But, Mr. Murray, you do not seriously mean that?" said Flora.
"The Bible says it, Miss Flora; not I."
"But what can you have, or do, that is worth anything, without money?"
"Exactly! That is the general opinion. So everybody is striving to get money."
"Well, people would stagnate if they did not strive for something."
"Quite true. Nevertheless, the Bible award proves itself. If you examine facts, you will find that the love of money is at the bottom of nearly all the crimes that are committed; and at the root of all the meannesses, speaking generally."
"Then you would make out money to be a bad thing, Mr. Murray!"
"Not money necessarily. But 'if any manwill be rich, he shall fall into temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and perdition.'"
"Then was that the reason, Uncle Eden, why those old Saxons were so noble, because they had no money?"
"One reason, I fancy. Along with trade and riches, don't you see, comes the temptation to underhand and false dealings, that money may be got faster; and so comes cringing for the sake of advantage, and flattery for the same. And then, with luxury comes dislike of hardships, and neglect of manly living, and people's moral sense gets weak along with their bodily powers. Self-indulgence drives out the noble uprightness that was maintained when people feared nothing."
"But religion—Christianity?" said Meredith. "That ought to have made more difference the other way."
"So it would if it prevailed. But a name is not Christianity; and the real thing is only here and there. The wheat in the midst of tares, as the Lord said it would be."
Maggie drew a long sigh.
"The wheat must show itself for what it is," said her uncle smiling at her, "and bear a fine head of fruit, to rebuke the tares. Your old Saxons, however, were a fine stock to begin with."
"I think I understand this question," said Meredith.
"I do, too," said Maggie.
"I am sorry Mr. Murray thinks so ill of money," remarked Flora.
"Of the love of it, say."
"But how can one have it—or not have it, for that matter—and help loving it?"
"So the danger comes in. And the difficulty of giving it all to Christ."
"O Uncle Eden! you are getting upon another of our questions now."
"And we have had enough serious talk for one time. Leave it till to-morrow, Maggie."
"Shall I read some more?" said Meredith. "Or have you heard enough?"
"By all means, read. This is luxury."
And Mr. Murray stretched himself comfortably on the pine needles and clasped his hands under his head, repeating, "This is luxury!" while Meredith opened his book again.
"Another Saxon story, Ditto?" Flora asked.
"Out of the Saxon chronicles. Yes. 'The story that I am going to tell you now, happened in ancient times and at a place called Dageförde.
"'Our forefathers, the old Saxons, were then divided into ediling or nobles, freiling or free peasants, and serfs. A freiling, by name Henning, lived on this farm, in the days when Hermann Billing was Duke of Saxony. At that time—it is 900 years ago—our country was already a Christian country, but still had hard fights to go through with the heathenish Wends, who made inroads almost yearly into our Eastphalian land, plundering and killing, and showing a special rage against the churches and the priests. The strong arm of the two excellent emperors, Heinrich and Otto, it is true, kept back these heathen and held them in awe; but, notwithstanding, they availed themselves of every opportunity to renew their murderous onslaughts.
"'Now when once Kaiser Otto was gone to Italy, andstaying a long while away, they were minded to profit by his absence; for they supposed that now they could burn and lay waste to their heart's desire, and with no hindrance. So they came with a great host, burned down the churches, killed the priests, dragged off men, women, and children, and treasures of booty, and came as far as to this part of the country. It is told of their frightful rage against Christianity, that on one occasion they took more than twenty Christian priests, stripped off their clothes, cut bloody crosses on their faces, breasts, bodies, and backs, and then tied them by their feet to the tails of their horses, which they drove round and round till their victims were dragged to death.'"
"It cost something in those days to be a Christian," said Meredith with something of a shudder.
"There have been many such days in the history of the Church," said Mr. Murray. "And yet, it pays to be a Christian. It did then."
"I do not see, for my part, how people stood it, there and in other places," said Flora. "I should think they would not have dared to confess they were Christians."
"They could not be Christians and not confess—neither in those days nor in these days."
"Why, Uncle Eden?" said Esther, who seldom said anything.
"You know the Lord's declaration—He will own those publicly who own Him publicly,and nobody else."
"But why couldn't they own Him privately?"
"Will you tell me how that is to be done, my dear?"
"Why, by beautiful Christian living and acting," said Flora.
"Don't you see, if such living could be found among those who are in name and profession not the Lord's, it would fight allagainstHis cause and Him? What sort of confessing ofHimis that?"
Nobody answered, and Meredith went on.
"'In the meanwhile the valiant Duke Hermann had gathered his faithful followers and moved forward to meetthe enemy. All the ediling and freiling were called upon for such expeditions of war, none other having the right to bear arms. The ediling served on horseback and the freiling on foot, and each one brought his own weapons with him. And Henning, the freiling of Dageförde, was among the Christian warriors who accompanied the Duke. Not far from here is the Hünenburg, an extent of heath on which there are a number of burial mounds. There it came to a battle between the Christians and the heathen. The fight was long and bloody; Christ led the one host, Satan the other. The Christians fought for their faith, the heathen fought for their prey. Before the battle, Hermann with his warriors had cast himself upon his knees and besought the Lord Christ that He would be their leader. Therewith came the storm of the heathen upon them, already certain of victory, for they were many and the Christian number was small; Hermann, in his noble eagerness to protect his poor people, not having had patience to wait for further reinforcements. But the Christians stood immovable, like a wall, and the heathen fell in heaps under their swords and spears. In the Christian army there were twelve priests wearing white garments, who bore a white banner with a red cross; and wherever the fight raged most madly, thither they carried their banner, singing, "Kyrie Eleison, Christe Eleison, Kyrie Eleison;" the Christian warriors dashing after them, joining in the holy song, wielding their hacked swords, and with irresistible force driving the heathen back. In vain the heathen sought to slay the priests and to seize their white banner; every Christian presented his breast as its bulwark against the foe. Whichever way the banner turned, victory went with it. Louder and louder sounded the "Kyrie Eleison," with more and more valour and joy of victory the Christians pressed forward. Then one of the Wendish leaders, Zwentibold by name, gathered once more the bravest of his people to make a stormy effort for the banner of the cross. His rage of onset broke through some ranks of the Christians; already he had penetrated to the near neighbourhood of the priests;when a foot-soldier from among the Christians manfully planted himself in his way and thrust his sharp spear against the heathen's broad breast, so that the coat of chain armour he had on was broken, and the spear pierced through his heart. Now there was no stand made any longer; the heathen fled, and in terror they cried out, "Christ has conquered! Christ has conquered!"
"'Duke Hermann looked about him to see the brave freiling who had done such a deed of heroism; it was Henning, the freiling of Dageförde. For his reward, Hermann dubbed the brave man knight upon the field of battle, and Henning returned to his house as an ediling. Though but for a little while. For Hermann was minded to profit by his victory and compel his stubborn enemies to keep the peace in future. So he pushed on with his army, now greatly reinforced, into the country of the Wends, and Henning went with his Duke.
"'Not far from the Elbe there was a temple of the heathenish idol Radegast; this temple stood within a strong fortress, called the fortress of Radegast, where now the village of Radegast lies. The heathen had collected and carried to this place all the treasures of the prey they had seized in their plundering incursions. Hermann resolved to storm this fortress, and therewith to destroy the bulwark of heathenism on this side the Elbe. The heathen defended themselves with the bravery of despair; many assaults were beaten back, and many a Christian fell in death before the ramparts of the fortress. The tenth day of the siege, the Christians held divine service and on their knees prayed the Lord of hosts to give them victory. Then they rushed upon the place to take it by storm; and among the foremost of those who clambered up the ramparts of the fortress was Henning of Dageförde, who in order to inspirit the Christians and terrify the heathen set up the field-song of the Hünenburg—"Kyrie Eleison, Christe Eleison, Kyrie Eleison!" Just as he had sung it through, an arrow from one of the enemy pierced his bold heart; he fell to the ground in death, but as a dying conqueror, who has gainedthe battle for Christ and with Christ. The fortress was won; those of the heathen who would not yield were put to death. Hermann dashed away a tear from his manly eye as he buried the brave Henning, and he said to Hilmer, Henning's oldest son, a boy of sixteen, who had come along to the war, "My son, you are early fledged. Your father was a true Christian and a true Saxon; follow in his steps, and so long as I live, I will be your father." Of all the enormous booty which Hermann found in the Wendenburg Radegast, this noble man kept nothing for himself. One half of the treasures he set apart, to rebuild with them all the churches which the Wends had burned down; the other half he distributed among his knights and warriors. Hilmer of Dageförde got his share too, and indeed a double portion, one for himself and one for his father. When he returned home, he took counsel with his mother what they should do with it; and they agreed together that it should be used for the glory of God. They erected a chapel in their own house, with an altar and all the fittings of a church. Part of the money was applied to this use, and with the remainder a chaplaincy was founded in the church at Hermannsburg, which at that time was the only church in the whole Oerze valley, with the stipulation that the chaplain should come every Sunday to Dageförde and hold divine service in the chapel there. A servant, with a led horse, must go to fetch him every time from Hermannsburg, and bring him back thither again. This service at Dageförde lasted till the Reformation. But when the evangelical faith was preached in Hermannsburg by the valiant Pastor Grünhagen, who, as I told you awhile ago in Tiefenthal, was converted to the pure Lutheran doctrine by an artisan fellow who read him the little Lutheran catechism, then this service at Dageförde ceased, because the possessors of Dageförde held stiffly and firmly by the Catholic faith, and obstinately rejected the pure doctrine. But now for a long time there have been lords of Dageförde no more. The race died out; and when one only of the family was left, he entered a Catholic cloister, where, in the year 1616, hedied. Then the reigning Duke gave the manor of Dageförde to the lords of Lüneburg, and they again sold it to some peasants, after they had divided the farm into two. So these farms have again become what they were originally—peasant farms. God grant to the present owners that they may stand firm and true to the pure faith of our beloved church, that they may earnestly strive to be genuine Christians and genuine Saxon peasants; then will it go well with them and with those that come after them.'"