thstanding his unaccommodating helmet, they sought and found
each other's lips, and united them with the double glow of fanaticism
and sensuality, which both in their blindness mistook for the fire of
pure love.

At that moment out stepped from the parlor door a little, withered,
yellow man, whose tattered garments were covered by a ragged black
mantle. With friendly simpers he squinted out of his little, gray,
malicious eyes upon the pair, and then, stretching his meager,
death-like hand towards Alf, cried with a hoarse howl, 'Thee have I
this day seen in my dreams, brother, contending and conquering in God's
cause, and lo! my eyes have verified it, and the Lord has achieved
great things through thee, his servant. Wherefore be glad, because God
has chosen thee for yet greater things, and through thee shall his name
become glorified in Zion!'

The little hobgoblin with ridiculous pomposity then strode out of the
house. Alf looked after him with his hand over his forehead, and said,
'sometimes, though in my native city, it appears to me as if I were in
a residence of madmen, where all the fools go at large. Who was that
strange man?'

'John Tuiskoshirer,' answered Eliza, reprovingly, 'an impoverished
goldsmith; but a great man since the spirit has come upon him. Often,
already, has he edified the public by his elevated discourses and
divine prophecies; and, next to our great Matthias and Johannes, he is
now the first prophet in Munster.'

'Good God! what a multitude of prophets,' sighed Alf; and by this time
Eliza had led him into the room.

Behind a table illuminated with wax tapers and decorated as for a
festival, sat the fair Clara. Her loose golden locks flowed down over
her white gala dress. Her right arm supported her pale, sad face, and
bright tears were falling from her eyes upon her white bosom.

'Do you not bid me welcome, lovely little Clara?' Alf kindly asked of
the sorrowing girl. 'Do you celebrate our victory with such bitter
tears?'

Clara lifted up her eyes toward the youth with gentle sorrow. 'Be not
angry with me for it, dear Alf,' she begged in a soft, subdued tone;
'every drop of blood shed in this unhappy war of opinion, falls
envenomed upon my heart. Never shall I lose the remembrance of my poor
uncle. He also was butchered for the new faith, of which I do not yet
rightly understand whether it is the genuine worship of God, or a
hellish sacrifice.'

'Leave the foolish girl!' cried Eliza,