ciency in the British contingent, and one million more to Russia. In hard

cash, £8,500,000 was paid down by England in that year, and £5,000,000 more (her share of the ransom of France) was generously given up to build the barrier fortresses of the Netherlands; and then we find Prince Hardenberg begging for another million" à étre partagé entre les Souverains et les Princes d'Allemagne."

"I beg (at last Lord Castlereagh wrote to Lord Bathurst) you will not give any money at present to any of the continental powers. The poorer they are kept the better, to prevent them from quarrelling.' ."* Thus, what should have been merely a war of defence for Eugland, was converted, by her habit of foreign enlistment, and her facility in parting with money, into a war of ambition, and a highly successful war for Russia; and thus, when the contest was over, armies brought into the field, in the pay of England, seized and distributed the spoil in the interest of the most formidable enemy of the power of England that has ever appeared. The application of the lesson, at this stage of the present war, will probably not be admitted :-the profit of every lesson is for warning, not for censure. And such, also, is the bearing of the instruction conveyed in the results of the departure of the successors of Lord Castlereagh from the practice of the doctrine he preached. The climax of power and presumption to which Russia has attained, has been gained by a systematic violation of the treaties of Vienna, and of the principle, that to preserve the balance of power the strength of second-rate states should be maintained and increased. In the absorption of the kingdom of Poland; in the overthrow of the republic of Cracow, by Austria; in the Danish succession treaties; in the pacification of Hungary and Transylvania, barrier states were weakened or destroyed, and Russia alone was aggrandised. There was not one of those acts that would not have justified a declaration of war; yet their criminality was approved by England, or condoned in a feeble and formal protest.

But again we say, it is for instruc

tion, not for reproof, we refer to these lessons of history, and recommend them to the study of those in whose power it may be to influence the crisis. That their gist has not been clearly perceived by many of them, is proved to our mind by several signs of greater or lesser significance. The Foreign Enlistment Bill seems to us to be but the beginning of a system of subsidisation. The extreme anxiety shown to secure the alliance of Austria and Prussia, was a proclamation of weakness to the enemy; and, to reflecting observers, an indication that the true position and relations of those states were not apprehended by our diplomatists. Now, as in the last war, it is events alone that can shape the course of those powers; and by events they have been and will be shaped and re-shaped in perfect independence of the letter of treaties, or even of the inclinations of their governments. To talk of England being influenced by no desire to dismember Russia, or to separate from her any portion of her territory, is, in truth, to forget what Russia has been, is, and desires to be. It amounts to a confession in words, that we have gone to war upon a mere point of honour, and are willing to make peace without acquiring any security for our future safety; and yet such has been the talk of British ministers.

One other point, and one of extreme delicacy, we shall merely allude to, and then have done. "It is not," (writes an independent observer,†) "without something like humiliation that an Englishman finds how small a part his country fills, in comparison with its ally, and how universally this struggle is spoken of by the people of the country as a war between France and Russia. When the first bayonets of the allies came into the Bosphorus, it was England that caused the mouth of wonder to open in Stamboul and Scutari. But now all is changed. The superiority of the French military system, the evident earnestness of the Emperor's policy, and his great resources, the skill of his officers, and the general effectiveness of the forces he has sent out, afford sufficient points of evident contrast to strike even such isolated and ignorant races as inhabit

this land. If anything was wanting to lessen the consideration in which we are held, it has been supplied by the Foreign Enlistment Bill-a measure which was received here with surprise, and is the common subject of conversation."

Fully concurring with this able and candid writer, in the desire he expresses to avoid any word that could tend to corrupt into ill-will the generous rivalry that now exists between France and England, we cannot conclude this somewhat too long article in words that more fitly convey our opinion, than those which we borrow from him:-"If Great Britain will

make the exertions which the time demands, she has now an opportunity to regulate for ever the position of the East [and the boundaries of Europe], in concert with allies who will respect her because they know her power, and that she is ready at all times to put it forth. But should she continue so small a policy, as depends on the troops of allies which she may clothe or transport, she may depend that her influence, which has done so much, will shortly wane; that the struggle with Russia will not be the last in which she will have to engage, and that the end for which she has made many sacrifices will not be attained."

Two or three days had elapsed, and Katharine was sitting, surrounded by her children, in the twilight, striving to decipher, by the evening's latest ray, a few lines of comfort from her imprisoned husband, which he had thrown from a window to little Ulrica, when the door was gently opened, and a soldier, in the Lichtenstein uniform, came slipping in.

Hush! don't be alarmed!" whispered he to the panic-stricken group. "I am Dorn, and have defiled myself with this garb to glide unsuspected into the house, to see how it goes with you all, and be the bearer of words of consolation. Your mother and sister are safe in their concealment, in good health, and send you the tenderest greetings. About your husband, also, you may keep your mind at ease, for I had rather have him in prison than at liberty in times when the outrages which every day witnesses might provoke him to act rashly, and thus make matters worse instead of better. Should danger impend over him, however, depend on my being at hand to avert it."

"But in heaven's name, Herr Dorn," asked Katharine, anxiously, "how or where is all this to end?"

"In a town full of Catholics, and that soon," answered Dorn, smiling bitterly. "Count von Dohna has arrived to-day, and that is enough to

From an

forbode the very worst. apostate, who hopes by tyrannic rage to win for himself the Principality of Breslau, there is little to be hoped for in the way of mercy."

"God be our defender!" sighed Katharine, folding her hands in earnest supplication.

"And by our own right hand, if other means are denied us," added Dorn firmly. "I have hitherto studiously avoided a rencontre with your worthy guest, well knowing that one of us would not leave the spot alive, and that in either event much good could not arise from it to you. But if the monster comes to extremities, I have resolved to give him his quietus, and rid you of him."

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Nay, nay!" cried Katharine imploringly-"no murder upon our ac

count.

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Oh, that is a man's affair, dear lady," answered Dorn, "and one in which women can have nought to say. Besides, one's own conscience must be the guide in fearful times like these. "Twill be well for him and me, if he allows it to be otherwise."

Here a light knock, more loudly repeated a second time, was heard at the door, and a voice asking, "Are you alone, Frau Fissel?" and the not only pale, but bleeding visage of the Deacon Bear appeared on the threshold.

"Good God! what has befallen you,

that you look thus, reverend sir?" inquired the appalled Katharine.

"My countenance bears the marks of the converting zeal of the Emperor's apostles," said the minister, with suppressed wrath. "Cruelly have these soldiers wreaked their rage on the servants of the Lord. Myself have they misused, and savagely beaten with the butt-end of their muskets, while preaching the truth, as the spirit irresistibly moved me to do. Of this I recked little-nay, exulted in the blows, any one of which, more vitally directed, would have exalted me into a martyr. But my worthy brother Bartch has endured at their hands such unheard of indignities as make my blood boil when I even think on them. To vex, and torture, and plunder the man of God was the least of their wickedness; but in their hellish sport they compelled him, at the bayonet's point, to dance before them, with his wife and children, like the deluded Israelites before the golden calf, a deed which they will doubtless expiate in the fire prepared for their master the devil and his angels."

"How goes it with the hapless burghers?" asked Dorn, to give another turn to the indignant pastor's thoughts.

"Right badly, as you may suppose," replied Beer. "It is only since the arrival of the terrible Dohna that the counter-reformation may have been said fairly to begin. The soldiers who are quartered on the Protestants have orders to tell them, The very moment you go and confess to the Dominicans or Franciscans, and produce us their certificate to that effect, you shall be rid of us, and we will go elsewhere.' And when the unfortunate creatures, whom they have driven to distraction by their long extortions and outrages, comply in their madness, and bring the certificate, they adjourn to the already overloaded neighbours, who remain steadfast in the faith; and when these can endure the double burden no longer, they, too, are induced, like Peter, to deny their Lord and Master. By this accumulation, we ministers have no less than sixty soldiers billeted on us, and the councillors a like number. The head of the Council, Junge, has above an hundred men to provide for, and if the Apostasy holds on its way as at present, the last Protestant Christian in Schweidnitz bids fair to have the whole seven companies of

Lichtensteins assembled under his roof."

"Wherefore, then, do the unhappy citizens not fly?" asked Dorn sharply, "and leave house and home, and goods and chattels, behind them?"

They tried to escape in flocks," answered the pastor, "but the proselyte-makers would not allow it. Not only the Council are prisoners in their city, but every man in his own house. The doors are kept locked, and every family confined within them. In vain did some rich burghers appear in their very shirts, to testify that if permitted to depart they would carry nothing with them; in vain did others court death, and offer their very lives in pure weariness of existence. It availed them nothing; the cry was still, Ye must be ours !'"

"I have heard enough!" exclaimed Dorn, wildly; "if you tell me more, I shall never be able to restrain my wrath, but knock down a parcel of the hounds, to get myself made away with. Farewell, Frau Katharina. I return into my secret corner, but always nigh at hand, and ever ready to count my life as nothing, and set it on a cast, for the welfare and safety of your house."

So saying, he rushed out, and the Deacon stepped to the window, through which the moon was brightly shining; and gazing upward, and pressing his folded hands tightly to his breast, he thus prayed with fearful earnestness

"Thy right hand will find thine enemies, even them which hate thee. Thou wilt make them as an oven; fire shall consume them. Their fruit wilt thou remove from the earth, and their name from among the children of men."

"God preserve us, sir!" cried Katharine, interrupting him, "how can you put up such awful prayers? Should we not rather remember our blessed Saviour's petition, Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.'"

"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do,'" stammered after her the deeply-moved pastor, who, his wrath giving way before the god-like sentiment, cast a reconciled glance upward toward the Fountain of love and forgiveness.

Next morning Katharine sat in her closet, with her nursling in her arms,

on whose rosy, sleeping check fast rolled her tears. While, like chickens taking refuge under their mother's wing, the other children clustered trembling round, as they listened to the varied cry of anguish, as it arose from neighbouring dwellings, where day had awoke the tormentors to their cruel work.

The clank of spurs was heard, the door was burst open, and the Captain rushed in, accompanied by the soldiers.

"Now I have found you out!" exclaimed he. "I have had a strict watch kept over your kitchen, and more food is cooked than the house requires. Full dishes are secretly carried out, and return empty, whence I conclude that your relations are not gone, as you pretended, but are concealed in the city, if not in this very house; and my duty requires of me to order them to be produced immediately, to have their share in the purification of religion we are carrying on in this benighted

town."

"I can give you no further answer about them," said Katharine, with composure.

"None" asked he, gnashing his teeth on her; "and you won't go and get a certificate of confession ?"

"It is not every one who is able to change his creed with the suddenness which the pressure of the times demands," said Katharine, with a bitterness extorted from her gentle lips by the deep infamy of the renegade before her.

"So you can scorn as well as deny," roared the tyrant; "that drop makes the cup overflow. To the cellar with the heretic spawn!" thundered he out to his satellites, who caught up the four helpless children, and carried them off.

"My little ones!" screamed Katharine, and sought to rush after them, but the Captain seized and detained the wretched mother.

"The last sand of the hour of grace has run out," cried he, in her very ear, "and that of vengeance approaches. The question is no longer about the runaway girl. I have wrenched from my heart my sinful love for the heretic, and have henceforth to do only with yourself, and your own religious errors. I give you one hour for reflection, whether you will return to the arms of our holy mother Church.

If you

persist in your contumacy, I have ways and means of reaching your hard heart; and I swear to you by all that is holy that I will get at it."

"God shield me from despair!" murmured Katharine, and sank fainting on the ground.

When she came to herself, she was again seated, her still slumbering infant at her breast, and before her stood, with overflowing eyes, an old monk from the Franciscan convent, gazing wildly on her.

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"Calm your agitation, dear lady, I beseech you," said the old man, tenderly. Doubly hateful as must now seem to you the robe which I wear, it covers a heart which means you nothing but good. I have heard how ill it goes with you, and come to bring you help. Never have I forgotten the friendly succour I received in your house, when, six years ago, I fell, a wandering lay brother from Breslau, fainting at your threshold. There were not wanting hard-hearted Lutherans who blamed you for troubling yourself with the papistical beggar, but your noble answer was, that it was your Christian duty to help Christians. That was indeed a noble word, which I have treasured from that day in my heart, daily praying that God might reward you for it, here and hereafter. It may be that the Lord in his compassion will yet, were it only on her death-bed, bring back so good a lady to the bosom of his only saving Church."

"God reward you for your charity, worthy father," said Katharine, faintly. "A loving heart remains deserving of honour and praise, even should it be found apart from the way of truth.”

"I came not hither," replied the monk, gently raising his hand in warning, "to hold a controversy with you. I will only remind you, in all kindness, of what necessity urges, and what must needs be complied with, if you would save your mortal body, not to speak of your immortal soul. It is the irrevocable decree of the Emperor that all his subjects everywhere return to the true faith, and for this purpose alone has he sent his troops hither. Far be it from me to approve, as no right Catholic can, the way in which these socalled proselyte-makers have set about their task; and so if any of them stray into my confessional, they shall not fail to learn. But so it is. And what

can I, a poor, weak, powerless monk do in a matter, which the Jesuits, in whose hands the Emperor's conscience lies, have on their shoulders? It was they who first kindled the flame, and who daily feed it with fresh oil, and we can only say as it is written. Without a certificate of confession, the tormentors will neither let you go free, nor dare they if they would. bring you the needful passport to liberty. The pressure of the times gives no leisure for formal confession, so your mere signature to the paper will suffice. You have then only to send it to the Court, and receive in return another, which will relieve you and your household from all billets in future."

So I

"Excuse me," exclaimed Katharine. "In the faith I have lived in will I die. I cannot and will not sign."

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Ay, ay, so gentle and yet so obstinate!" said the father. "Do but read over at least what you are to sign. You will still be at liberty to comply or refuse. Surely, methinks, the force of truth must prove like the rod of Moses, to unlock the clear stream of conviction in the hardest heart."

Katharine ran her eye rapidly over the paper. As she came to its close she murmured audibly

"I swear that, through the intercession of the Holy One, I have been converted to the Catholic faith."

"Lay your hand on your heart, father," exclaimed she, rising indignantly; "answer by your sacred priestly vows, should I not be deeply perjured were I to ascribe what I might do through fear of man to the spiritual working of grace from on high?"

The friar silently folded up his paper.

"You see," continued Katharine, giving way to softer emotions, "that there is no help for me.

Leave me, then, to my fate, but take with you my heartfelt thanks for your goodwill.'

"You are a provoking, naughty woman, with your positiveness," said the monk, gazing long and deeply on her; and the longer he gazed on her pale, meek, suffering countenance, becoming himself more deeply affected, till, bursting at length into irrepressible tears, he said

"I know that I am committing a deadly sin, but, God help me, I cannot

do otherwise. Take the paper, and rid yourself of your martyrdom.'

"What! without either confession or signature?" asked the astonished Katharine.

"I have dedicated to God a long life," said the old man, "full of hard self-denial, and harder struggles. Peradventure, then, he will for once be a merciful Judge to me, and after long, painful penances, forgive me for having been false in my holy calling. But should he even visit me in his everlasting wrath, I cannot do otherwise; I cannot let her who saved my life be tortured into losing her own. Should

I even have to depart from it myself, unabsolved There, take the

paper."

"God forbid !" cried Katharine, tearing the certificate, "that I should rob you of your soul's salvation, or even embitter your dying hour. Any possible use I could make of this paper (even would my conscience allow me to accept it) would be a tacit, and as such even more criminal, apostasy from my faith. Be not deceived, father, God is not mocked."

"Woman, thou art more righteous than we!" cried the monk, with a faltering voice, as he buried his head in his cowl, and fled weeping from the

room.

The baby slumbered once more on Katharine's bosom, when the door burst suddenly open, and the Captain entered, this time unaccompanied, and bolting the door behind him.

"The hour has elapsed," said he, with diabolical coolness, "have you the confession-certificate?"

"No!" was her calm reply; and as the babe, rudely awakened by the intrusion, sought weeping for its natural nourishment and caress, failed to find it, she was withdrawing to afford it, within the alcove where stood the bed—

"Whither bound?" sternly cried the Captain, seizing her arm, as if about to crush it in his savage grasp.

"To pacify my child," said Katharine, meekly. "You would not have me fulfil a mother's duty in the presence of a stranger soldier."

"Neither here nor elsewhere !" shouted the demon, forcibly snatching from her the child. "He shall not imbibe heresy with his mother's milk!"

"What will you do to my child, cruel man?" exclaimed Katharine,