SUNDAY AT FRANCONIA. 289 



meeting, but I think I never attended a religious meeting 

 of any kind which was more impressive. A few men and 

 women, the farmers of the country, were assembled, and 

 they seemed to be deeply impressed with sorrow that their 

 numbers were so few, when there were enough of their 

 neighbors to fill the church. The clergyman sat in a 

 chair in the aisle, and conducted the service by an occa- 

 sional remark and repeated requests that those present 

 would pray. And pray they did, simply, fervently, and I 

 doubt not effectually. You can not imagine the refresh- 

 ing and calming character of such an afternoon service to 

 one who has been for a long time past among less peace- 

 ful scenes. As I sat down, I looked to the window and 

 saw Mount Lafayette standing up still and solemn in the 

 blue sky, like a giant waiting the will of a more gigantic 

 master, and as they sang the old familiar hymn, I began 

 to recall where I was just a year ago on that clay. In the 

 morning I heard mass in an ancient church where kings 

 and kaisers and bishops and stout old knights of many 

 old centuries were at rest, heedless of the music of the 

 organ, heedless of the thunders of war which were to burst 

 on Germany within six hours. For at noon that day came 

 the declaration of war, and in the afternoon I stood in a 

 crowd of ten thousand Germans arming for the contest 

 which was to rebuild the throne of Charlemagne and over- 

 throw the throne of Napoleon. What a wild sweep of 

 the tempest of human wrath did Europe feel in that one 

 short year ! But then and there, in Franconia, what 

 thought had the men and women of thrones or their 

 changes ? To them the events of life are great which af- 

 fect their own families, and the world is of small impor- 

 tance. They should live near to God who live in quiet 

 villages or farms among the mountains. And some of 



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