A pallid woman, with her dying child in her arms, threw herself before him, held out the expiring infant, and cried in hollow tones: "Let this be enough, let this be enough--see here, see this; it is the third.

Let this be enough!" "Enough, enough! Bread, bread! Give us bread!" was shrieked and shouted around him, and threatening weapons and stones were raised; but a carpenter, whom he knew, and who had hitherto faithfully upheld the good cause, advanced saying in measured accents, in his deep voice: "This can go on no longer.

We have patiently borne hunger and distress in fighting against the Spaniards and for our Bible, but to struggle against certain death is madness." Peter, pale and agitated, gazed at the mother, the child, the sturdy workman and the threatening, shrieking mob.

The common distress, which afflicted them and so many starving people, oppressed his soul with a thousand-fold greater power.

He would fain have drawn them all to his heart, as brothers in misfortune, companions of a future, worthier existence.