his might. While in Italy he was also thoroughly disgusted with the condition of the church, and resolved to pray and labor for its restoration. In those days earnest Catholics believed that the service of the mass had been given to mankind by Divine revelation, so that not a word of it could be altered without blasphemy. In Milan Zwingli found a religious service, called the Liturgy of St. Ambrose, which differed very greatly from the Roman missal. Not long afterwards he saw in the house of a friend an ancient liturgy in which it was directed that both bread and wine should be given to communicants, and not wine alone, as had since become usual in the church. The conclusion was irresistible, that the Roman mass was a human composition which had been frequently changed and might be changed again. One of the ablest men in Switzerland, in those days, was Cardinal Matthias Schinner. He had been a poor shepherd boy who with no aid but genius, had risen to be a prince of the church and had hopes of becoming pope. This man observed the youthful priest of Glarus and determined to gain his support by securing for him a pension from the pope, so that he might "purchase books to pursue his studies." The cardinal was however mistaken in his man if he supposed that he could in this way purchase his silence. It was at this time that Zwingli wrote: "I will be true and honest toward God and man in all the relations of life. Hypocrisy and lying are worse than stealing money It is only through Truth that man can come to resemble his Maker." In 1516 Zwingli became parish-priest of the convent at Einsiedeln, which was then, as it is now, the real centre of the Roman Catholic church of Switzerland. He seems to have been chosen because he was known to be favorable to a reformation of the church. The abbot, Conrad von Rechberg, was a nobleman of high rank who had been put into the convent by his relatives against his will and he consequently entertained no affection for the monastic system. Even before Zwingli's arrival the necessity of a reformation had been the subject of constant discussion, and his eloquent discourses now seemed to many of the monks to be but the public expression of their own previous convictions. In the convent there was an image which was believed to be miraculous, and this, with sundry special indulgences granted by the pope, induced great multitudes of pilgrims, on certain occasions to visit the sacred shrine. To these pilgrims Zwingli preached, in 1516, and in subsequent years, on the true nature of worship, declaring with extraordinary eloquence that "Christ alone is the source of our salvation." The effect of his preaching was wonderful. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, accepted the truth, and themselves declared it wherever they went. Soon afterwards the monks began to leave their cloister, and for some time it was entirely deserted. In 1518 Zwingli was called to the pastorate of the cathedral church of Zurich, and entered upon his duties on the first day of the succeeding year. It was his thirty-fifth birthday, and he was then in the fullness of his manly strength. Our portrait represents him as he appeared a few years later, when the lines of care upon his face were deeply worn; but there is another likeness which was probably taken when he was about thirty years of age. Bullinger says, he had a magnificent physique, and was in the bloom of his manly beauty. Lavater," the father of Physiognomy," musing on his picture, says: "Zwingli's features indicate seriousness, thoughtfulness, manly determination, extraordinary power of mental concentration, and remarkable logical acuteness." Zwingli's call to Zurich was in itself a great triumph for the cause of the Reformation. It indicated that the majority of the leading men of the city were on his side, and it must be acknowledged that they remained faithful to him to the end. During the term of his pastoral service his labors were unremitting. He preached almost every day, wrote many volumes, and was forced by his position to take a profound interest in affairs of state. It was hardly to be expected that, under such circumstances, he should be able to elaborate a theological system. If he had lived to be an old man, he might have accomplished this; and like other Reformers might possibly have recalled some utterances which were made in the heat of debate. Concerning his relations with Luther we have recently spoken, and it is hardly necessary to refer to them again. It is certain, however, that in this controversy Zwingli appeared at no disadvantage. He at least maintained his temper, which is more than can be said of his great antagonist. According to Zwingli's own statement, his fiercest conflict was with the Anabaptists. It is impossible for us to form a just conception of the extravagant conduct of these fanatics; and it is not surprising that several of them went so far in their opposition to the state as to make themselves amenable to the laws against treason. It is, however, unjust to say that Zwingli assisted in their condemnation, as there is plenty of evidence to show that he disapproved of extreme measures, and was unwilling to meet the fanatics with any weapon but the word of God. "Whether upon the scaffold high, The noblest place for man to die In formally announcing the death of Zwingli, his successor, Antistes Bullinger, said: "The victory of Truth depends upon the will and power of God alone and is not bound to times or persons. Christ was killed and His enemies imagined they had conquered, but forty years afterward His victory became evident in the destruction of Jerusalem. Therefore Truth does not conquer by escaping oppression, but in oppression she finds her confirmation. To this end we need faith, patience, and undaunted courage. The faith of Christians is perfected in weakness. Therefore, beloved brethren in Germany, do not become offended at our humiliation, but continue in the faith of the word of God, which has always triumphed, though the holy prophets, apostles, and martyrs on its behalf were mocked and slain. Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord! Victory will come in due time, for with the Lord a thousand years are as one day. Victories may differ in degree; and he too is a victor who, for the sake of truth, suffers and dies." In 1531 a civil war broke out in Switzerland. Though mainly occasioned by religious differences important civil questions were also involved. In October an army of about eight thousand Roman Catholics unexpectedly invaded Zurich. Not more than nineteen hundred volunteers could be gathered in Zurich, but these went forward to meet the foe. Zwingli accompanied them as TWO CHRISTMAS EVES OF TWENTY their chaplain, as the law required. On the 10th of October, 1531 he was severely wounded on the battle-field of Cappel, and was afterwards killed by one of the enemy. His last words are well known, but they deserve to be often repeated: "What does it matter? They may kill the body but they cannot kill the soul." Strange as it may appear, Zwingli seems to have had a presentiment of the nature of his death. Once he said: "I often think that as Christ died for the church at its foundation so there must be martyrs at its reformation. I expect to be one of these martyrs." Looking up to a great comet that was shining in the heavens, he said, shortly before his death: "This brilliant star is a torch to light me to the grave." Just before the battle he exclaimed: "I will go and die with my people!" Well! What does it matter? YEARS AGO. BY REV. H. M. KIEFFER. I. "Haud me up some more greens, Michael." Michael was the old sexton of the village church, and he and the pastor, Mr. Burnett, were busy decorating the chancel of the church for the coming festivities, one stormy day before Christmas, now nearly twenty years ago. With coat off and perched high up on the ladder, while old Michael bustled about amongst the coils of greens on the floor, there the worthy pastor sat, intent on his work, and yet busy thinking betimes of one who was far away. As he cast a glance out of the window, he wondered whether it was so cold and stormy down there, or whether they had built their winter quarters, or were she climbed up on his knee and nestled back in his arm, while Rob and Gertie mounted on either side of his chair. "Yes, children, to-morrow is Christmas. And you are all glad and happy, and that is right. But papa is a little heavy-hearted when he thinks of Geordie so far away from home, without any good warm house and out in the cold, with little enough to eat, I fear, God help him, poor boy." "But Geordie is a soldier," said Rob, Absorbed thus in sad reflection on the singular spectacle, as the angels must look upon it, of half a continent staining its hands red with fraternal blood at this glad season of peace, he "an' he doesn't mind it; 'cause when had not observed old Michael, who, soldiers get cold an' hungry, they says, with outstretched arms, was holding'I don't care!'" the greens up towards him, and had been obliged to call him twice before succeeding in arousing him from his reverie "Here are the greens, Mr. Burnett." "O, Michael, excuse me. I forgot all about the greens." Papa, will we have a Christmas tree this year?" asked Gertie. "Well, children, you'll have to get to bed early, so Santa Claus may have a chance to bring it in and put it up." It was sad work for the pastor and his wife, that putting up of the Christ"What were you thinking about, Mr. mas tree. Neither spoke much while Burnett? About George? He was the ornaments were being tied on, and here last year helping us at this work, the gifts for the children set forth in I remember; and I just wonder where order beneath the tree, for both were he is to-day? Such a lively lad as he busy thinking of their blue-eyed firstwas, to be sure! Why, do you know, born, whose name they scarce could sir, it don't seem to me at all like Christ-mention now but with tears. And mas without that boy. Ever since he was a baby he's followed me about the church, the graveyard, the parsonage and everywhere; watched me digging the graves, ringing the bell and lighting the church, until I do believe I loved him as much as if he'd been my own child instead of yours. Do you think it's as cold down there as it is here?" when all was done, and together they knelt down beneath the Christmas tree and prayed earnestly and fervently to Him who had once been a child Himself, that as the blessed Christ-Child He would come and abide in the hearts of the children asleep in the chamber overhead, they mingled their tears as with broken utterance they prayed that God's especial grace and mercy might be with him who was afar from home. And where was George Burnett, or Geordie, as he was known in the family, this Christmas eve, now nearly twenty years ago? The scene of our story must shift now from the quiet Northern village to the pine forests of Virginia. But the pastor made no answer, for Michael's words had only served the purpose of plunging him into deeper thought about his boy; a tall, fairhaired, blue-eyed stripling of a lad, whom he loved with all the unutterable affection of a father for his first-born son, and whom he had nevertheless, A company of cavalry, or what was strange to say, laid as a sacrifice on the altar of his country, even as Abraham of old had stretched forth his hand to slay Isaac at the call of the Lord. left of the company after the Gettysburg campaign, being on scout duty, had for several days been reconnoitering away to the right wing of the army of the Potomac, now safely lodged in its winter cantonments, and halted for the night in a little ravine surrounded by a dense undergrowth of scrub-pine and cedar. It was snowing fast. The pines bending beneath their white covering, "Kithmath," lisped little Madge, as afforded a tolerable shelter for the men At last the greens were all hung, and the pastor walked over to his parsonage. "Papa! papa!" shouted the children, as he was heard at the door stamping the snow from his shoes, "Papa, to-morrow is Christmas!" and horses, while in the open space blazed a great camp fire, whose flickering light added its charm to the wild and weird scene. 'Say, boys, don't you think you are making a little too big a fire, there? Snow is a good reflector, you know, and we may have some of Mosby's men down on us before morning." "Well, Cap, that's so. But we've got to keep warm some way, haven't we?" "Besides, it's Christmas Eve, you know," said Burnett, "and it makes a fellow feel like having a little fire to think of the jolly times they are having at home to-night.' Bang! "Hello! What's that, boys?" " Boots and saddles, boys-the Johnnies are on us for sure!" Kicking the snow over the smouldering fire, the captain ordered his men, in short sharp tones, like the suppressed blast of a bugle, to stand by their horses' heads, make ready their carbines, loosen their sabres and mount. Screened from observation by a clump of pines along the edge of the ravine through which the enemy would likely dash down on them, they awaited the charge as their pickets came galloping in with a body of Mosby's troopers at their heels. "Now, my lads," shouted the captain, look to your carbines and sabres, and let them have it! "Pile on another log, Geordie," said Joe Winters," and let 'em see us if they want to; Mosby or no Mosby, we've" got to have a fire to toast our shins by and remind us that Christmas comes but once in the year "O, Christmas comes but once in the year, With no heart for restraining his men Burnett, the favorite of the company, was singing a song, the rest joining in on the chorus, so sweet and melodious that the very horses pricked up their ears at the sound, Then followed stories and anecdotes, grave and gay, with songs and glees, till the fire flickered low, and all hands wrapping themselves up in their great coats and blanket, lay down before the fire, Indian fashion, and were soon sound asleep. were Not anticipating so sudden a check to their headlong course, and with no suspicion of the neat little ambuscade awaiting them, Mosby's men thrown somewhat into confusion by the sudden shock, as with ringing carbines and swift sabre strokes the Union boys dashed out on them with a cheer. It was short, sharp work, man to man and horse to horse, the whole affray occupying scarcely more time than it takes to relate it, when in a cloud of snow at their horses' heels Mosby's men dashed up the defile and away. Several men were killed on either side and some wounded, too, whom we need not stop to mourn over, for such are the chances of war-but where was Burnett? Burnett! Burnett!" sang out his messmate, Winters, as he stood leaning against his horse. "Any of you fellows know where Geordie is?" There was no answer. He was not among the wounded, he could not be found among the killed. "By Jove!" said Winters," they've taken Geordie prisoner! Without a word more, and utterly heedless of an ugly wound in the shoulder, Winters mounted his horse and dashed at full gallop in the direction Mosby's men had taken. "Winters! stop!" shouted the captain. He might as well have shouted to a whirlwind. For Joe Winters-a tall, raw-boned man of great physical strength and fiery temper, had from the first taken a strange liking for the slender and rather delicate lad of light hair and blue eyes, and any day would have gone through fire and flood or worse for the love he bore him. And the suspicion that Geordie was a prisoner, and the certainty that he would never return alive, aroused in Winters the heroic determination to overtake Mosby's men and surrender himself instead of Geordie! How he rode hard and fast mile after mile that wintry Christmas morninghow he overtook the Confederate cavalry with their prisoner riding in the midst what scenes there were amongst the boys in gray, as dismounting they listened to the gallant proposal of Winters to ransom their prisoner with his own body-how Geordie expostulated, entreated, begged the wounded Winters to desist, and how in spite of all his remonstrances he was conveyed back again the next morning to his own men I will not stop more particularly to re late. Suffice it to say that at daybreak. as they were preparing to break camp. Geordie rode into the midst of them and threw himself on the ground in a passion of tears. "Why, Burnett," said the captain, "what's the matter? Are you hurt badly?" 66 Oh, no, Cap, but-Winters-" "Aye, my boy, Winters-can you tell me what has become of him?" "Yes, sir. They took me prisoner in the fight last night-and Winters has gone and given himself up a prisoner in my stead!" II. Another year had passed away and a second Christmas Eve was drawing near. George Burnett's father and mother, and old Michael too, as well as they, anxiously and impatiently awaited the holidays; for when the holidays came Geordie would be home on furlough. Old Michael, having made unusual preparation for the decoration of the church, was in high glee. There should be a most bountiful offering of the laurel, box and pine that year in the Lord's house, "for Geordie, my boy, is coming home," said he to himself. Four weeks, three weeks, two weeks aye, it was only two weeks yet till Christmas, when one morning old Michael, scarcely able any longer to defer his preparations for the chancel decorations, walked over to the parsonage and into the pastor's study, saying as he entered "Mr. Burnett, don't you think we'd better be making some arrangements about getting the greens for the church? It is only two weeks yet, and then-" The worthy pastor's face had been averted so that Michael had not seen the look of unspeakable anguish there was upon it, until the pastor replied, wearily raising his head and speaking with bloodless lips, and a countenance on which unutterable woe was written in every feature: "Michael, there won't be any tions in the chancel this year." decora And "No decorations this year! Geordie coming home, too! Why, sir, I've been sexton of this church for well nigh forty year, and I never yet-" "Michael," interrupted the pastor, "that may all well be. But, read that; God knows I cannot tell you; readthat." Taking the letter which the pastor held out toward him with a trembling hand, Michael put on his glasses, went over to the window and read; aye read A letter from the captain commanding Geordie's company which set forth in brief yet terrible words how after several days of almost continual marching and fighting, and while holding a very important post at the extreme left of the army in front of Petersburg, his son Geordie had been found in the grand round asleep on his post, had been at once ordered under arrest, and was to be forthwith tried by court-martial, the judgment of which it was feared would be severe. "No effort," said the captain, "will be spared to save the brave and gallant boy. Nevertheless use all the influence you can command with the authorities at home, and make no delay." Paralyzed as by a mighty grief, old Michael stood looking at the letter as if he did not at all comprehend what it was all about, when a second letter was thrust into his hand, a letter from Geor. |