eated all mouths.

'Whoever sins against one of these commands, roared the prophet, with
wild flashing eyes, 'shall die the death!'

'Amen!' said the trembling chorus, and the prophet stalked haughtily
out of the door.

'Who was that!' Alf timidly asked his kinsman. 'Johannes Bockhold, our
second prophet,' answered he, dejectedly, 'the right hand of the great
Matthias.'

'All the books!' sighed the orator Rothman.

'All the gold and silver!' sighed the worthy Kippenbrock, after him,
involuntarily raising his hand to his head, as if for the purpose of
scratching it, but recollecting in season that this movement was rather
unseemly for a new burgomaster, he quickly let it fall again.

'The Lord wills it, and his servants must be obedient,' said
Knipperdolling to Kippenbrock. 'Let the commands of the prophet be
proclaimed, my brother. I have yet much to do with recording the
estates of the exiles, which have become forfeit to the community!'

He departed, and Rothman followed him. 'All the gold and silver!'
repeated the elder Kippenbrock sorrowfully, yet once more, and he went
after them.

'God forgive me if this feeling be a sin,' cried Alf, when he saw
himself alone; 'but these prophets appear horrible to me, and I shall
never be able to reconcile my heart to them.'

CHAPTER III.

Some days passed away; daring which Alf, without troubling himself much
about the disturbances of the city, labored unweariedly in the workshop
of the deceased Trutlinger, which in these times gave him an immense
deal to do. He was animated by the idea of working and accumulating for
the beauteous dark-haired Eliza; and although he could not gain any
decided token of favor from the haughty girl, the friendly glances,
which she now and then bestowed upon him, were sufficient to keep the
flame of love always brightly burning at his heart; and the poor Clara,
whose eyes ventured towards him when she thought herself unobserved,
became wholly overlooked, as usually happens to the modest violet in
the neighborhood of the queenly rose.

One day the wild rattling of the drums called all who could bear arms
to the market place. Obedient to the call, Alf equipped himself and his
journeymen from the military stock of his workshop, and they were all
standing in polished casques and coats of mail, well armed with swords
and halberds, when Trutlinger's two nieces entered the shop.

'You are going forth to