She translated the Psalms and several other devotional books into German verse for the benefit of her subjects. She was often seen, with packages of garments and baskets of food, entering the cottages of the poor peasantry around her country palace, ministering like an angel of mercy to all their wants. At length her husband, the emperor, was taken sick. Eleonora watched at his pillow with all the assiduity of a Sister of Charity: she hardly abandoned her post for a moment, by day or by night, until, with her own hands, she closed his eyes as he slept in death. Eleonora survived her husband fifteen years, devoting herself through all this period to the instruction of the ignorant, to nursing the sick, to feeding and clothing the poor. All possible luxury she discarded, and endeavored as closely as possible to imitate her Saviour, who had not where to lay his head. Her death was like the slumber of a child who falls asleep upon its mother’s bosom. At her express request, her funeral was unattended with any display. She directed that there should be inscribed upon her tombstone simply the words,―― “ELEONORA,――a POOR SINNER.” This brief narrative shows very truly what is the true nature of religion,――the religion of Jesus. It shows its spirit independently of all external customs and manners. No one can doubt that Eleonora was a Christian; and yet we can all see, that, in that dark age, she was not well instructed. She practised austerities which Jesus does not require; and yet who can doubt the cordiality of her welcome at the celestial gates? She took up a far heavier cross than any which the disciples of Jesus are ordinarily required to lift. She simply did what she thought it her duty to do as a disciple of Jesus. And now, for a century and a half, she has been an angel in heaven; and she finds that all these light afflictions of her earthly life have indeed worked out for her a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. Mothers and daughters, Jesus loves you; he loves you with inconceivable love. He has died to redeem you. He now lives to intercede for you. With tearful eyes he says, “How can I give thee up? My daughter, give me thy heart: come unto me, and be saved.” He is ready to meet you at the celestial gates, and to give you a cordial welcome. He is ready to lead you to the heavenly mansion, and to say, “This is your home forever.” He is ready to introduce you to angel-companionship, that you may, through endless ages, share their songs and their everlasting joy. CHAPTER XXIII. THE MASSACRE OF ST. BARTHOLOMEW.