aid the gaoler, who, though rough
in appearance, spoke sometimes in a kind tone. "A holy monk wishes to
see you, and bade me tell you so."

"I have no desire to see a monk," answered Moretz. "He cannot make me
change my faith, and it would be time lost were he to come to me."

"But he brings you a message from your grandchildren," said the gaoler.
"He bade me say that if you refused to see him--"

Moretz thought an instant. "Let him come then," he answered.

The gaoler nodded and took his departure. In a short time he returned,
ushering in a sturdy, strong-looking man in a monk's dress. The gaoler
retired, closing the door.

"You do not know me, friend Moretz," said his visitor, in a low voice.
"I have been admitted, that I might give you spiritual comfort and
advice," he said, in a louder tone, "and I gladly accepted the office."
His visitor talked for some time with Moretz, producing from under his
dress a book from which he read, though not without difficulty, by the
gleam of light which came in through the small opening which has been
spoken of. From another pocket he produced two iron instruments
carefully wrapped up, so as not to strike against each other. "Here is
a strong chisel," he said, "and here is a stout file. I have heard of
people working their way through prison walls with worse instruments
than these. Now farewell, friend Moretz. The time I am allowed to
remain with you is ended, and the gaoler will be here anon to let me out
of the prison."

"I fear you run a great risk," said Moretz, warmly thanking his visitor.

"For the Lord's people I am ready to run any risk," was the answer, and
just then the gaoler was heard drawing back the bolts. The friar took
his departure.

The old woodcutter was once more left alone. He had piled up his straw
on the side of the wall on which the opening was placed. He now
carefully drew it back, and began working away at a stone which had
before been hidden by it. His success surpassed his expectations.
There had been a drain or a hole left for some purpose, carelessly
filled up. Thus hour after hour he scraped away, carefully replacing
the straw directly he heard the gaoler's step near his door. What a
sweet thing is liberty! The woodcutter's chief difficulty was to hide
the rubbish he dug out, the straw being scarcely sufficient for that
purpose. As he was working, however, he let his chisel drop. He
thought the stone on which it dropped emit