t that may be understood if we
remember that the road which leads from Dresden to Freiberg is up hill
almost all the way. The Saxon Erzgebirge must not be pictured as a
chain of separate mountains, with peaks rising one behind the other and
closing in the horizon. Hills and valleys lie mingled, assuming such
long, wave-like forms that in some parts of the district it is
difficult to fancy oneself in a mountain-land at all. Immediately
around Freiberg the landscape takes the form of a wide table-land,
which has an upward slope only on the south-west of the city, so that
from a short distance but little is seen of the town save the tops of
its towers and a confused glimpse of house-roofs. In former days it
was the residence of the Duke of Saxony, and before the Thirty Years'
War contained 32,000 inhabitants, a number which has now dwindled to
19,000. Its ancient fortifications, which of late years have been
rapidly giving place to modern improvements, consisted of a double line
of walls, guarded by towers, pierced by strongly-fortified gates, and
surrounded by a deep and wide moat. The ramparts were built of
quarried stone, which, though much harder than sandstone, was far more
difficult to bind together with mortar. In view of this fact, we may
well be surprised that a place so weakly fortified was able for two
long months to withstand the vehement siege operations of the whole
Swedish army--an army so brave and so highly trained in the art of war,
that it had subdued many far stronger fortresses. Yet so it was: how
the thing came about, and what an important part young Conrad, the
carpenter's apprentice, played in these great events, will be found
narrated in the following pages.

* * * * * *

On the 1st of November in the year 1642, a carpenter's apprentice,
Conrad Schmidt by name, passed out at the Erbis Gate of Freiberg,
pushing before him a covered hand-truck. This contained a piece of
carpenter's work that always tells its own sad story--a little child's
coffin. As the truck with its sorrowful burden jolted along over the
rough pavement, the sentry stepped forward from the gate, and asked
inquisitively, 'What have you there, youngster, and where are you off
to?'

'Only a child's coffin for the mill at Erbisdorf.'

'What! has the plague been gleaning among the little brood down there?'

'The plague!' repeated Conrad, bringing his truck to a stand. 'Well,
yes, something