and hope cheered her on.

Long seemed the intervening hours, and many were the predictions
made concerning the success of her mission; yet she determined to
go, in the spirit of Martin Luther, though every stone in the prison
should arise to persecute her.

The appointed hour came, and, letter in hand, she left her room, and
repaired to the spot. There she found a carriage; and the driver,
who, it appeared, was acquainted with her, inquired whether she
desired to go to--street jail. Replying in the affirmative, she
entered, and the carriage drove off. When she had reached the
street, and came in full view of the prison, her timidity almost
overcame her; but, recollecting the object she had in view, she
resisted a desire that involuntarily arose to return.

"Is the warden in?" inquired the driver of the gate-keeper.

"He is;--another feast for the lion, eh?" and the keeper, who had
more self-assurance than manners, having laughed at his own
nonsense, pulled a bell-cord, and the warden appeared.

"The gentleman who came this morning to see Mr. Lang wished me to
bring this young lady here, and introduce her to you as Mr. Lang's
daughter." Having said this, the hack-man let down the steps, and
aided her out. The gate-keeper retired into a sort of sentry-box,
and amused himself by peeping over the window-curtain, laughing very
immoderately when anything serious was said, and sustaining a very
grave appearance when anything having a shade of comicality
occurred.