ning for some of its dearest
relatives. The death-bell tolled hourly in every village, while the
survivors almost apathetically awaited the time when they themselves
might be called to suffer in the same way.

Columns and stakes were to be seen in every street. The door-posts of
private houses, even the fences in the fields, and the trees in
orchards, were laden with human carcases, strangled, burnt, or beheaded.
New scaffolds, gallows, and stakes were erected everywhere, ready for
those devoted to destruction. All those who could escape had fled; and
had it not been for the strict way in which the gates were guarded,
nearly every town in the Netherlands would have been depopulated. In
Antwerp, as well as in other great manufacturing and mercantile towns,
once so full of industrial life, silence and despair now reigned. Poor
Antwerp! it was my native city. I had known it for the greater part of
my life. I had seen it once at the height of prosperity. Its commerce
and industry were now well-nigh destroyed.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

PROTESTANTS IN ANTWERP.

Master Overton continued in Antwerp; and as he gained a greater
knowledge of the language, he became a very popular preacher among all
classes. The arrival of Alva and his myrmidons had, however, put a stop
to all public preaching; all meetings for prayer, whether public or
private, were prohibited on pain of death. But this did not prevent
people from meeting regularly, in secret, to read the Scriptures, to
exhort each other, and to offer up prayer and praise together. There
were many such congregations in different parts of the city. The one we
attended was in a large upper room in a house not far from the Mere,
where Master Overton ministered. Two flights of stairs led up to the
storey on which the room was situated, besides which there was a narrow
winding stair inside the wall, with a concealed door on the top, which
led down to a small postern gate. The house belonged to a noble of the
privileged order, and no magistrates dare enter it without authority
from the Regent.

We knew one Sunday evening that a service had been arranged, and that
Herman Modet was to preach. The weather was bad, the rain pouring down
in torrents, the wind blowing, and the lightning occasionally flashing
forth from the surcharged clouds. Still Aveline was very anxious to
attend the meeting, as was Mistress Margery. Madam Clough had wished to
go, but she dreaded th