"I think I understand this question," said Meredith. "I do, too," said Maggie. "I am sorry Mr. Murray thinks so ill of money," remarked Flora. "Of the love of it, say." "But how can one have it--or not have it, for that matter--and help loving it?" "So the danger comes in. And the difficulty of giving it all to Christ." "O Uncle Eden! you are getting upon another of our questions now." "And we have had enough serious talk for one time. Leave it till to-morrow, Maggie." "Shall I read some more?" said Meredith. "Or have you heard enough?" "By all means, read. This is luxury." And Mr. Murray stretched himself comfortably on the pine needles and clasped his hands under his head, repeating, "This is luxury!" while Meredith opened his book again. "Another Saxon story, Ditto?" Flora asked. "Out of the Saxon chronicles. Yes. 'The story that I am going to tell you now, happened in ancient times and at a place called Dageförde. "'Our forefathers, the old Saxons, were then divided into ediling or nobles, freiling or free peasants, and serfs. A freiling, by name Henning, lived on this farm, in the days when Hermann Billing was Duke of Saxony. At that time--it is 900 years ago--our country was already a Christian country, but still had hard fights to go through with the heathenish Wends, who made inroads almost yearly into our Eastphalian land, plundering and killing, and showing a special rage against the churches and the priests. The strong arm of the two excellent emperors, Heinrich and Otto, it is true, kept back these heathen and held them in awe; but, notwithstanding, they availed themselves of every opportunity to renew their murderous onslaughts. "'Now when once Kaiser Otto was gone to Italy, and staying a long while away, they were minded to profit by his absence; for they supposed that now they could burn and lay waste to their heart's desire, and with no hindrance. So they came with a great host, burned down the churches, killed the priests, dragged off men, women, and children, and treasures of booty, and came as far as to this part of the country. It is told of their frightful rage against Christianity, that on one occasion they took more than twenty Christian priests, stripped off their clothes, cut bloody crosses on their faces, breasts, bodies, and backs, and then tied them by their feet to the tails of their horses, which they drove round and round till their victims were dragged to death.'" "It cost something in those days to be a Christian," said Meredith with something of a shudder. "There have been many such days in the history of the Church," said Mr. Murray. "And yet, it pays to be a Christian. It did then." "I do not see, for my part, how people stood it, there and in other places," said Flora. "I should think they would not have dared to confess they were Christians." "They could not be Christians and not confess--neither in those days nor in these days." "Why, Uncle Eden?" said Esther, who seldom said anything.