In the square before the grave old cathedral stood the familiar pillory and gallows, and here, it being a prince-bishop’s residence, the public hangman, a villainously visaged fellow, attended by a few approving priests, was casting upon a small fire sundry pamphlets, which one of the clerics explained in a loud voice “were of that most pestilent son of the devil, the beloved of the whole host of hell, Martin Luther, etc.” A small crowd was gazing in sullen silence. The scene was not to my liking, but I had no intention of making a useless martyr of myself by interfering then, and I was watching cynically from a safe distance when I beheld a lady abbess, all in white wool and ermine, with a sweep and clatter ride up upon her tall bay palfrey, two nuns on less elegant steeds followed, with two lay serving-maids, and a few male servitors. They drew rein, and their mistress sat, evidently watching the sight with great content, as the hangman added pamphlet after pamphlet and the priest bawled out the titles. Suddenly the game, however, was rudely interrupted. Out of a side street came rushing a young man in peasant dress, a goodly cudgel waving above his head. “O Holy God! O Holy God!” he fell to shouting. “See how these scoundrels crucify Thy word afresh! They are worse than the Jews, for they take Thy name in vain! At them, Christians--avenge the pious books the black crows try to burn!” And thereat with all the valor of fanaticism and youth, he leaped straight up on the pillory, and I saw his staff dash down on the shaven crown of a protesting priest with a thwack that sent the cleric spinning. In a twinkling the gaping crowd of lazy apprentices, hucksters, and guild journeymen was changed into a bawling, infuriate mob, casting itself upon clerks and hangman, stamping out the fire, calling for “ropes for the crows’ necks,” and howling all manner of curses. So much can one spark explode, if only the train is ready! A handful of halberdiers came running from the neighboring Rathaus to avenge outraged authority, but in the melée their weapons were mostly wrested from them, while forth from every tall timber house near the square swarmed men with pikes and boys with cudgels, to swell the mob. I was beholding all, with inward blessings for the rioters, when my eye lit upon the lady abbess. In the tumult her horse had became restive. She was separated from her followers, and sorely tested to retain the control of her palfrey, when I saw a rascally looking apprentice pounce at her bridle. “A prize, comrades! Not a black crow, but a white one--ei!”