and there, built right against the wall of stone, stands the church. It is built partly of rough stone, partly of boards painted red. It has a little pointed tower, and even a bell hangs in it. On one side, wedged in a stony cleft, is a hut constructed of logs rudely piled together and strips of bark, and roofed with thatch. Below it falls away an abyss, God knows how deep, its sides overgrown and covered with hazelbushes and alders. Over against it are the riven walls, from which the eternal roar of the rushing water is eternally re-echoed. The gorge from which the water comes contracts itself above so as to nearly form a cave overhung by the rocks. Behind, they say, there is ice. This is the aspect of the place, which may well please Hoisel more than his own home.

Out in the open and resting against the rock are three or four confessionals, the last so near the foaming cataract that it is all damp. Yes, indeed, think I to myself, here a man may confess his most secret sins as loud as he likes-they would reach God's ear alone. Well were it if some other priests had their confessionals thus near the waterfall.

I stand a while looking about me at this gloomy place, and have laid eyes on no living being. Evening is drawing on. Behind the gray mountains soar aloft three towering crags; they are still tipped with sunshine. The church door seemed to me at first to be closed, but it is half open. I enter; the chapel is like that of all other places of pilgrimage; above the primitive altar in the recess stands an image, so rudely carved that I am unable to guess what saint it is intended to represent. I now observe, close behind the door, a second altar of small size, with an old image of the Mother of God. Two candles burn before it, and in front of it kneels a man whose back is turned towards me, and who does not notice me. Because his head is

bowed forward and his hands folded together, I fancy, at first, that he is praying-soon I see that he is counting some copper money that he holds in his hand. And it is my Hoisel from the hazelwood. Pretty ragged, indeed, bristly and brown, but still easily recognizable. On getting sight of me he quickly conceals his money in a bag, acts as if he had finished praying, and makes the sign of the cross, and gets up. I call him by his name; he sees who I am and is overcome with fear. I manifest no surprise, simply say that it has been a hard climb up, and ask him if he can take care of me over night. He does not say yes, and he does not say no. He looks at me as if trying to make me out. My face is so like that of the priest at Torwald. Then he tells me he will gladly let me have his bed if it is good enough for me. Besides, he has to go down to the valley this very night to get some things for next Sunday. For he does a small business in brandy, and his store is nearly out; he has hardly enough left to offer me a small glass.

He seemed to be in such a hurry that we should part company again, that I felt I had better begin at once.

"Matthias," say I, "we are old acquaintances, and ought to have a little talk together."

And when I have got him so far as to sit down by me on the door step, where there is a fine view out over the wild mountains, and where we hear the roar of the waters somewhat more faintly, I tell him that I have come this weary way entirely on his account. Perhaps he can tell why, but he is not to be frightened.

"I cannot guess why," is his answer. "Man! Why do you seek to deny what you once admitted to me? That my lips are sealed, you know full well; were it not for this, perhaps some one else would have climbed up here after you."

Thus did I seek to get around him, but the sly fox was perfectly aware that it makes a great difference whether one speaks of a thing in the confessional or out of it.

"Do you not know, Matthias, that another man has been put in prison for the murder?"

He shrugs his shoulders.

"And do you know, too, that that other has been condemned to death, and is to be executed in a very short time?" That hits him.

"Jesus! Jesus!" he screams, and springs up. "I know it all. I have not a minute's peace-I pray and do penance-but nothing is of any use. Must I go distracted?"

He rushes towards the abyss; I hurry after him.

"Oh, my God!' he groans, and draws his sleeve across his forehead. "The horror of death! And then hell! Hellish hell!

judge."

Rather would I face the

Now that he has shown himself in his true colors, my regard for him returns. I take him by the hand; it is icy cold.

"Matthias," I say, "the man is a fine fellow and is young. I have been to see him. His heart is sick unto death at the idea that he is to end in shame. But of one thing I am sure: you are having a harder time than he. His pain is purgatory, and yours hell, which has begun for you in this world and will never end, never for all eternity. But courage! You can change the whole thing! It will be as if you had leaped out of the flames into cooling oil, if you only free your conscience-if you go of your own accord, give yourself up, and set the innocent free. And that, my dear Matthias, will be a work of deliverance for which God will reward you, while the people will say: Only see, Hoisel has a good heart after all! But there is no time to be lost; I say to you that tomorrow it will be too

late! Not for Steger, for he will be in heaven, but for you, for you! On the judgment day the murdered man will stand at your side!" And inasmuch as at this moment the rocky peaks shone in the twilight like molten iron, I add: "See, man, creation itself shows forth what you have done and what you bear in secret; there it uplifts its fiery fingers and swears that God will be your judge!"

His breast begins to heave convulsively. He covers his face with both his hands.

"How could God have so forsaken me!" he groans. "I never meant to do it. The brook-house woman! To sue me! And the devil thrust a stick into my hand. What I have been through since, my good pastor! Twice, thrice have I started to give myself up. I cannot, I cannot! The dreadful gallows!"

I only give a laugh, as though it were the easiest thing in the world, and say:

"They surely will not kill you if you give yourself up; I know that for certain. It may be you will only be convicted of manslaughter, who knows? You will be put in prison, have to work, expiate your crime; your conscience will be at peace, and God will be good to you. No, poor Matthias! Go not down from a hell in this world to one that never ends!"

Thus did I speak with him; then on a sudden he rises up straight like some strange creature and says:

"What are we gabbling about, sir? There is nothing in the thing. Nothing in it."

And then I fall on my knees before him and adjure him to think on his parents, on all his dear ones who have died. This moves him once more and he shakes his head. His eyes rove around, and I can see that he is thinking of escaping. And so I play my last card, which I had hoped not to have been obliged to use.

"So it is all of no use, Matthias; and yet I have tried to stand your friend. Now listen to what I know. The whole thing has come to light; they are approaching this place from several directions in order to secure you. They must very soon be here. You cannot escape them, and then your life will have been thrown away. Man, you have your life and your salvation in your hands! At the cost of sore fatigue I have got here ahead of them; give yourself up voluntarily, and you are as good as saved."

This falsehood has a great effect. He begins to tremble, and begs of me that I will not forsake him. He will go with me; I will bear him witness that he goes of his own accord.

Thereupon he has extinguished the tapers before the Blessed Virgin, and has called out to the picture: "Pray for me, Our Lady! You know how much I have done in your honor! Good night, Mother! If things go well with me I shall not be stingy!"

Then we set out to clamber down in the night-there was a moon-and on we went and ever on. Neither of us tires, and Hoisel now and then seems to be in quite good spirits and is very careful to guide my steps where the way is bad. God's grace has touched him, I think within myself. Ever and anon he says: "If only they do not catch us before we get there. How much farther have we to go?"

At early dawn we are in Liesgau. There we rested for half an hour at an inn. If the railway were only completed, I thought; on foot we cannot reach town before tomorrow noon.

"They will be sure to catch up with us," says Hoisel, again and again.

Then a whole day's tramp along the hot road. I have a constant terror lest the man repent and run away. But the fear of capture and of the gallows, which in such a case is sure to be his doom, has bound him firmly to me. If

there had to be a falsehood told in order to save Steger, one can only say in this instance: God's decrees are inscrutable.

The evening of the same day we reach an inn of large size, on the highway, with a mill attached and with tall mountains rising up on either side. At supper I espy a weekly newspaper that lies on the table. And in it I read:

"On September 30th, at six in the morning, the execution of the murderer, Tobias Steger, takes place in the courtyard of the county jail."

On September 30th! That is tomorrow! Tomorrow morning at six o'clock!

I hasten to the landlord. "Can a conveyance to town be had here?" Yes, one might be had.

"At once? This very instant?"

The horses had been ploughing all day and would have to rest a little. "No matter. Harness up at once! How far is it to the town?" Well, says the landlord, it is a good way, the road bad, up hill, down dale. No one ever did it in less than nine hours.

"Sir, we have got to be there in eight hours, in seven hours! No matter what it costs. A man's life is at stake." And I whisper in his ear as much of the story as I dare.

At first the landlord stared me irresolutely in the face. The landlady is from Alpenzell, and recognizes me as the pastor of St. Mary's; thereupon they harness hastily. Half past eleven at night.

O, this night! This ride! I kept my legs pressed hard against the front of the carriage, as though this made us go faster. Never in my life such an agonizing night. At six o'clock. They are exact. The devil rides in front of the clock hand!

At two we are at the iun on the top of the pass. The driver wants to rest; we are eight minutes ahead of time. Forward! I begin to gather courage,

and arouse myself. My Hoisel is silent and sits with hands folded. Praying? Asleep? He leans against the back. The most stylish ride he ever had in his life. I have hung my coat over the window, I cannot bear to see the dawn. It lasts forever and forever. How my temples throb! My head feels as if it would burst. I am sick unto death. Can Tobias Steger be undergoing greater suffering? God help us! It begins to grow light. The carriage rolls over a long bridge. The river! We are nearing the end. I tear the window open. In the red of dawn the great building, the jail. Through a sideway there- Hoisel springs out and scuds across the fields. I, after him, catch up with him by the river; he shrieks "I cannot!" falls fainting to earth. His life buried in this stone

grave, he cannot! I fling him over my shoulder-forward! The outer gate is open, people hurry out and in-soldiers, officers, men in dress suits. I, with my burden, burst into the courtyard. There on the tower the clock faceQuarter past six

These are the notes of my predecessor, Johann Steinberger. There were several more leaves, mixed and confused. He talks about the night journey. The wagon goes to pieces. They mount, Hoisel on a white, the pastor on a black, horse. Up to the gallows, round and round, like circus riders. And then come such exclamations as: "Murderer in ermine! Knew he was innocent and had him strangled!"

Poor, faithful Johannes, sleep in peace!

The angle between the Gulfs of Bothnia and Finland is a flat region of lake and forest-covered land, stretching back to the vast plains of northeastern Europe and Siberia, and fringed by innumerable rocky islands. This is Finland, containing 144,211 square miles, or about one-fifth more than Great Britain and Ireland, with a population in 1897 of 2,527,801, a figure which seems moderate for the area, but is really large when we consider the barren soil and severe climate. The mass of the people are Finnish, and speak that language, of which the affinities lie outside the Aryan or IndoEuropean system; the rest are racially Swedes, an overflow from Sweden,

• Finland and the Tsars, 1809-1899. By Joseph R. Fisher, Barrister-at-Law. London: Edward Arnold. 1899.

The Reply of the Finnish Estates, adopted at the Extraordinary Diet of 1899, to the Proposals

which, in past ages, brought with it Christianity and a higher degree of culture. But a long enjoyment of liberty has raised the one people to the level of the other; they are bound together by a common sentiment of nationality, and their two languages are on an equal footing in state, church and school. There is thus no distinction between them in the bitterness with which they feel the attacks made on the Finnish constitution by Russia, or in their determination to defend that constitution by all the means in their power. In Esthonia and Livonia, on the other side of the Gulf of Finland, attempts at Russification may have been aided by agrarian dissension between

of His Imperial Majesty, Nicholas II, Grand Duke of Finland, for a New Military Service Law In Finland. London: Eyre and Spottiswoode.

1900.

the higher landed classes, descended from the knights of the Teutonic Order, and the peasantry, of an extraction more or less akin to that of the Finns. But in Finland no such handle existed, and perfect unity has been displayed in the trying circumstances of the last two years.

The cause of Finland has excited deep interest in England for two reasons. First, nothing can be more opposed to English habits of action in our Empire than the Russian policy of forcing all the populations subject to the Tsar into one type of language, religion and institutions. Whether the language to be discouraged is Polish, German, Lettish, Swedish, or Finnish; whether the religion to be strangled is the Roman Catholic or the Lutheran, and whether the institutions to be wiped out more or less nearly resemble our own, the nation which has allowed free scope to the French element in Canada, and to the Dutch element in the Cape Colony and Natal, must always sympathize with the type which asks nothing more than the chance of maintaining itself in a fair field without favor. Nor does it count for nothing in our sympathy that the type which struggles for existence is Western, while that which seeks to extirpate it belongs to Eastern Christendom. I hope that I am far from underrating the latter. Russians have been among my valued friends, and even without personal knowledge of them, only a narrow mind could doubt that Eastern Christendom must have its contribution to make to the more perfect Europe of the future. But in building up that Europe our part is that of Western men, and when other Western men, from Poles to German Colonists on the Volga, find themselves met by superior force, instead of by healthy rivalry, that blood is thicker than water will be found true of moral as well as of physical affinities.

The other reason for English sympathy with Finland is, that there a constitutional liberty is at stake. It will be interesting to many if, instead of reading mere denunciations, they are accurately informed how that liberty agrees with and how it differs from ours, how it is attacked, and how it is defended. The sources named in the note at the beginning of this article, as well as others which have been placed at my disposal, enable me to present the following condensed account.

Finland was not separate from Sweden, as Scotland and Ireland not only formerly were from England, but have continued to be in important matters ever since the respective legislative unions with them. Finland, indeed, bore the title of a Grand Duchy, and there was occasionally a governor of it; but the Swedish kingdom on both shores of the Gulf of Bothnia had one Diet and common laws both in church and state, a circumstance which must have greatly helped towards that cohesion between the different races in Finland which has been mentioned. The Finns were not subject to the Swedes, they were included in the Swedish nation. Therefore when Russia took Finland from Sweden she took a country with old and recognized boundaries and title, and a people who carried with them their attachment to that entity, and at the same time carried in their hearts the principle of national government embodied in the Diet and the other central institutions in which they had been partakers. Alexander I drew from that root a Diet and central institutions as like those of Sweden as circumstances permitted. He encouraged the Finlanders to continue their national life as though Sweden had been torn from them instead of they from Sweden. He made Finland a state separate from the Russian Empire, though indissolubly attached to its Crown and