holic; reminding her of the holiness of her future
career. The poor girl conscientiously promised to obey. When I came the
next morning and spoke to her as usual, she turned away from me, and burst
into tears. Surprised and anxious, I asked what was the matter; when, in a
voice broken with sobs, she told me the whole story, and begged me to
become a Catholic as soon as I was fourteen years old. Never in my whole
life shall I forget that morning. For a moment, I gazed on her with the
deepest emotion, pitying her almost more than myself; then suddenly turned
coldly and calmly away, without answering a single word. My mind had
awakened to the despotism of Roman Catholicism, and the church had lost
its expected convert. I never went near her again, and never exchanged
another word with her. This was the only friend I had during eight and a
half years of uninterrupted attendance at school.

A visit that I paid to my maternal grandfather, when seven or eight years
old, made a strong impression on my mind. My grandfather, on his return
from the war of 1813-15, in which he had served, had received from the
authorities of Prenzlau (the city in which he lived) a grant of a
half-ruined cloister, with about a hundred acres of uncultivated land
attached, by way of acknowledgment for his services. He removed thither
with his family; and shortly after invited the widows of some soldiers,
who lived in the city, to occupy the apartments which he did not need. The
habitable rooms were soon filled to overflowing with widows and orphans,
who went to work with him to cultivate the ground. It was not long before
crippled and invalid soldiers arrived, begging to be allowed to repair the
cloister, and to find a shelter also within its walls. They were set to
work at making brick, the material for which my grandfather had discovered
on his land: and, in about five years, an institution was built, the more
valuable from the fact that none lived there on charity, but all earned
what they needed by cultivating the ground; having first built their own
dwelling, which, at this time, looked like a palace, surrounded by trees,
grass, and flowers. Here, in the evening, the old soldiers sung martial
songs, or told stories of the wars to the orphans gathered about them,
while resting from the labors of the day.

I tell you of this institution so minutely, to prove to you how wrong it
is to provide charitable homes for the poor as we provide them,--homes i