endeavoured, as much as possible, to screen him against all evil. Fearing lest his morals might be endangered by associating with other children, they forbore sending him to school; but his father himself gave him the necessary instruction. He likewise, with especial care, made him acquainted with Jesus Christ, and the design of his sufferings and death. Many a time did the little boy observe, when his father was secretly reading in a book, how the tears would drop on the table. During his last illness, perceiving his end approaching, he had this book brought to him, and fixing his eyes upon a representation of the crucified Saviour in it, he gave up the ghost. All these circumstances, in particular the last, made a deep impression on the boy, at that time eleven years of age.

John was now put out to a relation of his, where he neither saw nor heard any thing good. The other servants made him the butt of their ridicule, and would not so much as suffer him to sleep among them; hence he was compelled to take up his lodg ings in the stable, where he was one time in danger of being trodden to death by a horse. At last, being nearly nineteen, he was tired of this way of living, and wished to learn a trade. His grandfather, a tailor, took him to be his apprentice; but six months after, he departed this life. The new master, to whom he was now put, was a light minded character, and a scoffer at religion. He led his apprentice the same way, because, as he said, this was the way to ingratiate himself with others, and to draw custom. Indeed Gilek actually ingratiated himself into favour with others, but much to his disadvantage. He fell into bad company, was ensnared by sin, and was now, according to his own expression, "forced to trudge along like a beast of burden, although he often felt great sorrow on account of himself, and formed the best resolutions." One evening, while labouring under a particular concern about his state, he laid hold of an old book which treated of the sufferings and the death of Jesus, and was adorned with cuts, representing the same. While reading in this book, and looking at the pictures, his heart was mollified to such a degree, that he could not refrain from shedding tears, and a something within him said: "Do but see, what heavy sufferings, and what a bitter death the Lord Jesus had to endure for thee! And thou hast hitherto done nothing but grieve him with thy sins; thou hast not loved him-not even thought of him!"

Such feelings as these he had never had before, and from that time he had no rest night nor day. He could not hide his concern from others, but sought advice with such as he esteemed better than himself. An uncle of his, who was a leader of great pilgrimages, would undertake to deliver him from these temptations of Satan, as he called them, encouraged him, and had him persuaded by others, to set out with him on a pilgrimage to Moravia. This accordingly happened in the year 1730. But al

though Gilek observed every prescription given him, and even suffered himself to be received into the fraternity; yet he returned home very much dejected, and the burden that oppressed his heart appeared rather to have been augmented. Now it so happened, that he came to work for a week at his trade, with a man who was possessed of true evangelical knowledge, and probably had experienced something of the power of the gospel. This man observed him closely, and inferred from his behaviour, that something was going on in his heart; but only on the last day of his stay, did he enter into a conversation with him upon this topic. His master's aged mother likewise joined them, and related with tears, how, after the dispersion of the brethren, they used secretly to meet in her house for purposes of edification, and how, when they were no longer safe there, they assembled in her fields; and even there met with opposition, and had their Bibles and other religious books taken from them. This put Gilek in mind of the value his late father had set upon his books, and how he had often been affected while perusing them. These books he was now desirous of having, and guessing that his mother's brother had taken them into his custody, he dropt him a few lines, requesting him to give them up. His own mother was the bearer of this letter. Both were afraid to trust him, and said one to another: "He has lately been on a pilgrimage; who knows how the priest charged him concerning these books; if we retain them, he might inform against us." They therefore thought it most advisable to grant his request. He now began to read, and could not be tired of it. He was soon enabled to see that his exertions so far, which were imposed upon him during the pilgrimage, were all in vain. He therefore renounced them with uplifted hands, tore down the pictures and altars he had erected in his room, and burnt them together, with the ticket of the fraternity, and the pilgrim's songs. Those pictures only he reserved, which referred to the sufferings of Jesus.

Several other Protestants with whom he formed an acquaintance, lent him a Bible and a hymn book for a short time. He jumped for joy at sight of them, immediately transcribed nearly 30 hymns from the latter, and with great respect took the Bible, which now he saw for the first time, into his hands. The sayings of our Saviour, and the epistles of the apostles, particularly drew his attention. But all that he read, condemned him, and set his poverty and his unhappy condition in the clearest light before him. At the same time a desire arose in his heart, to know whether in any place in the world such people lived together, that walked according to the doctrines of Jesus; gladly would he forsake his all, if even he should be compelled to live upon bread and water among them. He inquired of his intimate friends concerning the matter, and was informed by them, that there were such people in Saxony; that quite lately a family out of the vil

lage had eloped thither, and that a person from those parts was shortly expected here on a visit. He then requested them to give him notice when this should happen. In the mean time, others began to cast suspicions on him, because he no longer harboured such a number of pictures; they reported it as likely, that he had committed them to the flames, and that himself would soon share the same fate. This frightened him, and he longed the more for the hour of emigration.

Soon as ever he understood that the person expected, had arrived, he disclosed his intention to him; and, September the 8th, 1731, he left the place of his nativity at dusk, with a small bundle of linen under his arm, and set out upon his journey with the man, on the route towards Saxony, or more properly Upper Lusatia. His conductor told him on the way, that he had felt a particular impulse in his heart to go to Bohemia; although he had not been apprised that any person desired to emigrate from thence, that now it plainly appeared why he had come. On the fourth day they arrived at Gerlachsheim, which was the object of their journey. A number of Bohemian emigrants had already found a shelter here, and their minister, Augustin Schulz, had them under his faithful charge. He preached with power, but altogether in the spirit of the gospel, and frequently told his hearers, that, unless they were most closely united to the Lord Jesus, he would not give them a fig (or fir-nut) for all their religion.

The new-comer was cordially welcomed by his countrymen, and soon inducted into those blessed paths in which they walked. There, likewise, he soon experienced how richly the heart of a sinner is comforted who sets his hope exclusively on the grace of Jesus, and will be justified and saved only through faith in him. Being now so very happy, he was desirous of seeing his mother and her family share the same happiness with him. He therefore returned to Bohemia, in order to pay them a visit, and if they had a mind for it, to bring them out with him. His mother directly agreed to forsake all; and besides her, twenty persons more were found to be of the same mind, who were conducted away in two divisions. They travelled only by night; during the day they rested in the woods, or with friends, if they met with

any.

This company being safely arrived at Gerlachsheim, after having escaped many dangers, Gilek once more felt himself at home, and was intent only upon enjoying himself in his religious liberty, for which opportunities were not wanting. He made several visits to Herrnhuth; but not understanding the German language, he liked it better at Gerlachsheim. Meanwhile some person sent him word in the year 1733, that he should come and fetch his step-brother away, who, together with his wife, wished to emigrate. He therefore resolved once more to go to Bohemia. He had with him, besides two acquaintances from Gerlachsheim, a

Bohemian from Hennersdorf, whose name is no longer known. To gratify him, he was obliged to deviate somewhat from his own route; which, from the very first, went against his inclination. Once they laid themselves down together in a hay loft to sleep. There Gilek dreamed that the Jesuit from Leutomischel, and the grave digger, rode up towards them, and had them dragged thither into prison. At the same time he felt as though somebody gave him a push into his side. Thereat he awoke, and something within him said: "Leave this place! Delay not!" He immediately arose to go off, roused his companion, and related the dream to him. But he was highly provoked for having his rest interrupted, and replied: "what did the dream concern him! how idle it was to take the advice of a dream." By these arguments, Gilek was induced to drop his design, and once more to lay down; but he trembled over his whole body. Just when he was at the point of falling asleep again, the Jesuit, together with the grave digger, came galloping to the spot. Immediately they mounted the hay loft; for the matter had been betrayed. The other Bohemian then attempted to escape; but it was too late. Unspeakable anguish seized upon poor Gilek. On the one hand he reproached himself for not having acted up to the warning given him by the dream; on the other hand he represented to himself the danger which his soul and body would now incur. "What will you do, under these circumstances," said he to himself; "will you remain faithful to the Saviour, and to the truth you have hitherto owned and practised, or will you suffer fear, or the many torments they will inflict upon you to move you and cause you again to embrace those doctrines which you esteem to be erroneous ?" At this juncture he felt his faith invigorated to such a degree, and was so firmly convinced of the unspeakable value of the gospel, that he could resolve rather to endure every thing, than to deny it.

The Jesuit then took Gilek's New Testament out of his pocket, and called several people together, who, with the aid of the grave digger, had to lead G. and his comrade into the penitentiary at Leutomischel. This happened on the 30th day of May, at ten o'clock in the morning. Gilek was pent up in the dark torture chamber, laid in irons, with four locks to them, and had his feet tied to the stocks. It was now first, that he could duly reflect upon his situation, and he fell into such a violent perturbation of mind, that for two days together he could neither eat nor sleep; but the fact was, that during all this time, they had not brought him any nourishment. Another half of a day being elapsed, he felt a raging appetite, and got such violent pains in his bowels, that he almost fainted away. Dreadful to him was the idea that perhaps they intended to starve him to death. In this extremity he turned by prayer to Jesus, craved the forgiveness of all his sins, in particular that of his not heeding the warning received

and thus expected to breath his last. Here he felt the presence of the Saviour, and his consolations in an inexpressible manner; rest and perfect resignation to the will of his Lord, re-occupied his mind. Soon after the jailor entered, asking him deridingly, whether he felt an appetite by this time, and handed him some bread, which was smoking hot, but no drink. He had scarcely swallowed the bread, when he was attacked by a violent fit of the cholic, which made him turn like a worm. Next day they gave him water; but this did not serve to refresh him, for he got quite weak after drinking it. In this condition he was brought to trial before the ecclesiastics. After some preliminary questions, they ran over the Apostles' creed with him, and he testified, that he heartily assented to it. At the article treating of the holy Catholic Christian Church, they laboured hard to prove to him, that the Roman Catholic church was the only one in which a man could be saved, and when he would not admit this proposition, they were highly incensed against him. To several other questions, for instance, concerning the invocation of saints, he likewise replied according to his conviction. They returned for answer to this, that he was an arch heretic-and remanded him back to prison. In the afternoon he was again brought to the castle before a gentleman to whom the whole trial was committed; and who now once more put the same questions to him. At this trial there were also two witnesses present from Gilek's native town, who testified how many people he had already conducted out of the country. But they also brought many false accusations against him; and when he contradicted them in reference to the latter, the judge was wroth, and said to him: "You wicked chap, will you not speak the truth?" The defendant here swooned away; they had to drag him out, and give him something which restored him again. Being once more introduced, the judge again, and with still greater rage, insisted upon the confession of the truth; and as this did not turn out according to his notion, he ordered the prisoner to receive fifty lashes. The guard immediately took up the whip, tore the defendant's coat from off his back, and promptly executed the order. Next day he was led into the court-house before the council, to be tried there too. He presently took notice that three of the twelve counsellors assembled, had a knowledge of the truth; for they regarded him with compassion. Among the rest they asked him "whether he had any complaints to lodge against his master, and whether on that account he had emigrated?" He replied, that" neither the count, his master, nor the emperor, were obnoxious to him, and that he would cheerfully abide their subject, provided he might believe, and live according to his conscience." They were at great pains to prove to him that he was mistaken, with respect to the faith; but they succeeded not in making any impression upon him. He was further interrogated about a letter