The Woodcutter of Gutech | Page 7

earth to draw man out of that fallen state, if he would accept the means freely offered to him. Still, unhappily, man continued to "love darkness rather than light, because his deeds are evil;" and thus do the cardinals and bishops and priests, who are the ruling powers of the Church of Rome, endeavour to keep the minds of people in ignorance, that they may draw money from the pockets of their dupes, and continue to live on in indolence and vice.
CHAPTER FOUR.
While he was speaking a large body of people, led on by a man on horseback, and accompanied by several priests, were seen advancing at the farther end of the square. Many of the people fled, but the preacher boldly kept his ground, as did Moretz and Karl, who, indeed, scarcely heeded the movement of the people surrounding him. In another minute Moretz found himself dragged from his pack-saddle by a couple of men, and looking up, he saw Johann Herder frowning down upon him. He struggled to free himself, for his muscles were well-knit, and he had lost but little of his vigour. He succeeded in getting near enough to Karl to whisper, "Fly away home and look after Meta. God will take care of me. Do not be afraid. Keep up your spirits, Karl. Off!--off! quick! quick!"
He had scarcely uttered these words before he was again seized by two additional men, who set on him, and he saw that to struggle further was useless.
"Bring him along," said Herder, "with the other prisoners. The magistrates will quickly adjudge the case. I knew that I should some day have my revenge," he whispered into the old man's ear, "and I intend to make you feel it bitterly."
Moretz was thankful to see that Karl had made his escape, and without opposition followed his captors to the hall where the magistrates were sitting. They had resolved to prevent any public preaching in their town.
While the magistrates' officers were making prisoners, several men rallied round the preacher, and before he could be seized, got him down from the platform in their midst, and then retired down the street, no one venturing to attack them.
Moretz, with six or seven more prisoners, was placed before the magistrates, several priests being present, eager to obtain their condemnation. Moretz was asked how he dared stop and listen to an heretical preacher, and whether he thought the preacher was speaking the truth, or falsehood?
"Had I thought he had been speaking falsehood, I would not have stopped to listen to him," answered the old man, boldly. "He spoke things, too, which I know are to be found in the word of God, and I am sure that all in that book is true."
"Evidently a fearful heretic!" exclaimed the magistrates. "We must make an example of him, and put a stop to this sort of thing. In the meantime, to prison with him!"
"Stay," said one. "Though guilty of listening, perchance he will recant, and acknowledge himself in error."
"Indeed I will not," answered the old man. "I believe God rather than man, and will not deny the truths He has taught me."
"Off with him!--off with him! You see there is no use discussing matters with a heretic," exclaimed some of the other magistrates.
The other prisoners were now tried. Two or three only of them, were, however, committed to prison, the others acknowledging themselves in error. Of these, however, several as they went away muttered words complimentary neither to their judges nor to the Pope and his cardinals.
Moretz, with several other prisoners, was marched off under a strong guard to the prison. It was a dark, old, gloomy building, which had been a castle, but having been partly dismantled, had been fitted up again for its present purpose. It contained several long passages, both above ground and under ground, leading to arched cells with strong oak doors plated with iron.
Into one of these dungeons Moretz was now thrust. There he was left in solitude. There was but little light, but he discovered a heap of straw in one corner, on which he sat himself down. "Well," he thought, "other people have been shut up in prison cells worse than this, and Christians too." And then he thought of Paul and Silas in the prison at Philippi, and how they had spent their time in praying and singing praises to God. "That is just what I ought to do," he said to himself; but he did not pray so much for himself as for his dear little Meta and Karl, that God would take care of them, and deliver him in His own good time, if it was His will to do so. Then he began to sing, for Spena had left a book of hymns, the words of several of