the congregation, and the tones floated over the street, into the
house, where the Jewish girl attended to her work, diligent and faithful
in her calling. "Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy," this was her
law; but her Sabbath was a day of labor to the Christians, and only in
her heart could she keep it holy; and that was not enough for her. But
when the thought arose in her soul, "What matters it before God about
days and hours?" and on the Sunday of the Christians her hour of
devotion remained undisturbed. If, then, the organ's peal and the
psalm-tunes reached over to her, where she stood in the kitchen, even
this became a quiet and consecrated spot. She would read then the
treasure and peculiar property of her people, the Old Testament, and
this alone; for she kept deep in her heart what her father had told the
teacher and herself when she was taken from the school--the vow made to
her dying mother, "that Sarah should not be baptized, not forsake the
faith of her fathers." The New Testament was, and should remain forever,
a sealed book to her; and yet she knew much of it; it shone to her
through the recollections of childhood.

One evening she sat in a corner of the parlor, and heard her master
reading aloud. She might listen, she thought, for this was not the
gospel; nay! 'twas out of an old story-book he read: she might stay. And
he read of a Hungarian knight, taken captive by a Turkish pasha, who had
him yoked with oxen to the plow; and he was driven with lashes, and had
to suffer pain and ignominy beyond endurance.

But at home the knight's wife sold all her jewels, and mortgaged castle
and lands, and his friends contributed large sums, for enormous was the
ransom demanded; still it was raised, and he was delivered out of
thraldom and disgrace. Sick and suffering, he came to his home. But
soon resounded far and near the summons to war against the foe of
Christianity. The sick man heard the call, and had neither peace nor
rest any longer; he was placed on his charger; the blood came again to
his cheeks, his strength seemed to return, and he rode forth to victory.
The very pasha who had him yoked to the plow, and made him suffer pain
and scorn, became his captive. He was carried home to the castle
dungeon, but before his first hour there had elapsed the knight came,
and asked the prisoner, "What dost thou think awaiteth thee?"

"I know," said the Turk; "retribution."

"Yes, the Christian's retribution," s