he said, had fallen by their awful sin.  Froebel stood as if benumbed, without moving a muscle, or changing a feature, exactly in face of the Capuchin, in amongst the people; and we others also looked straight before us, immovable.  The parents of our pupils, as well as the pupils themselves, and many others, had already fled midway in the monk’s Jeremiad.  Every one expected the affair to end badly for us; and our friends, outside the church, were taking precautions for our safety, and concerting measures for seizing the monk who was thus inciting the mob to riot.  We stood quite still all the time in our places listening patiently to the close of the Capuchin’s tirade:  “Win, then, for yourselves an everlasting treasure in heaven.” shouted he, “bring this misery to an end, and suffer the wretched men to remain no longer amongst you.  Hunt the wolves from the land, to the glory of God and the rage of the devil.  Then will peace and blessing return, and great joy in heaven with God, and on earth with those who heartily serve Him and His saints.  Amen.”  Hardly had he uttered the last word than he disappeared through a side door and was no more seen.  As for us, we passed quietly through the staring and threatening mob.  No hand was raised against us at that moment, but danger lay about us on every side, and it was no pleasure to recognise the fact that the sword of Damokles always hung by a hair over our head.  Feeling very uneasy at our insecure condition, I was sent, on the part of the rest, to the authorities of the canton, especially to Abbe Girard,[137] and the mayor, Eduard Pfyffer, to beg that they would provide for our safety with all the means in their power.  On my way I was recognised by a priest for one of the newly-introduced “heretics” as I rested a moment in an inn.  The people there began to talk freely about me, and to cast looks of hatred and contempt at me.  At last, the priest waxing bolder and bolder, accused me aloud of abominable heresy.  I arose slowly, crossed with a firm step over to the black-frocked one, and asked him, “Do you know, sir, who Jesus Christ was, and do you hold Him in any particular esteem?” Quite nonplussed by my firm and quiet address he stammered out, “Certainly, He is God the Son, and we must all honour Him and believe on Him, if we are to escape everlasting damnation.”  I continued, “Then perhaps you can tell me whether Christ was a Catholic or a Protestant?”

The black-frock was silenced, the crowd stared, and presently began to applaud.  The priest made off, and I was left in peace.  My question had answered better than a long speech.