trength the rough man knew
nothing of. As soon as they were again alone, they knelt down and
prayed for protection, nor failed to obtain the comfort prayer will
always bring. They then returned to the table and partook of their yet
untasted supper. Before it was finished, a knock was heard at the door.

"Shall I open it?" asked Karl. "Perhaps it is Herr Herder come back
again."

"Oh, no!" said Meta, "he would not knock. We should not be afraid to
open the door."

Karl withdrew the bolt, and who should he see but the book-hawker,
Gottlieb Spena! They recognised him at once. He entered, and saluting
them, kindly inquired for their grandfather. "I trust he has not been
taken from you," he said, with an expression of anxiety.

"Indeed he has, sir," said Meta, "but not by death;" and in a few words
she explained what had happened.

"That is very sad, but God will protect you, my children," he observed,
placing his pack, as he had before done, in a corner of the room. "We
must try and obtain his liberation. The people of Germany will no
longer submit to persecution. However, I trust that, by some means,
your grandfather's liberation may be obtained."

Meta and Karl warmly thanked their friend, and begged him to partake of
their humble fare. This he did, seeing that there was abundance.
Suddenly he exclaimed, "I have thought of a plan. I will endeavour to
gain admittance to your grandfather, and if so, I trust the means may be
given him to escape from the prison." As it was somewhat late, the
book-hawker gladly availed himself of the shelter of the hut for the
night, while he amply repaid his young hosts by reading and expounding
the Scriptures to them, greatly to their satisfaction.

CHAPTER SIX.

The old woodcutter sat in his cell, his spirits yet unbroken, and
resolved, as at first, to adhere to the faith. Still, accustomed as he
had been to a life in the open air, his spirits occasionally flagged and
his health somewhat suffered. Often and often he thought to himself, as
he examined the walls of his prison, "If I had an iron tool of some
sort, I doubt if these walls would long contain me." But everything he
had possessed had been taken from him when he was first brought to
prison, and not even a nail could he find with which to work as he
proposed. He was seated on his heap of straw, and the gaoler entered
with his usual fare of brown bread and water.

"I have a message for you, old man," s