m Friedrich'

rt,

o that I do not despair of earning something: and if my studies are retarded a little, it does not so much matter. It is not for me to aspire to great things, unless, indeed, they can be reached by small and patient steps. I have a work to do for the family. My youth must be given to supporting them by the first means I can find. If I succeed, perhaps Christopher or Pollux will have leisure to aim higher than I can; or, perhaps, in middle and later life I myself shall have leisure to pursue the studies of these great old classics, which seem to make the horizon of our thoughts so wide, and the world so glorious and large, and life so deep. It would certainly be a great delight to devote one's self, as Martin Luther is now able to do, to literature and philosophy. His career is opening nobly. This spring he has taken his degree as Master of Arts, and he has been lecturing on Aristotle's physics and logic. He has great power of making dim things clear,

too hot and his heart too warm for that negati

e,

ly, I think, because of the loss of one he loved, but because it brings death so terribly near, and awakens again those questionings which I know are in the

the Evangelia read in the churches, or in the Collections of Homilies. He was called away to lecture, or, he said, he could have read on for hours. Especially one history seems to have impressed him deeply. It was in the Old Testament. It was the story o

and then to learn, without possibility of mistake, what God really requires of each of us. I suppose, however, the monks do feel as sure of their vocation as the holy child of old, when they leave home and the world for the service of the Church. It would be a great help if other people had vocations to their various works in life, like the prophet Samuel and (I suppose) the monks, that we might all go on fearlessly, with a firm step, each in his appointed path, and feel sure that we are doing the

12,

he pestilence excites, to remind people of the more awful terrors of that dreadful day of judgment and wrath which no one will be able to flee. Women, and sometimes men, are borne fainting from the churches, and often fall at once under the infection, and never are seen again. Martin Luther seems much troubled in mind. This epidemic, following so close on the assassination of his friend, seems to overwhelm him. But he does not talk of l

ly

the day after to-morrow, to pass a social evening in singing and feasting. The plague has abated; yet I rathe

ly

think it is a sudden impulse, which may yet pass away. I do not. I believe it is the result of the conflict of years, and that he h

to look forward with hope. Many of us had completed our academical course, and were already entering the larger world beyond-the university of life. Some of us had appointments already promised, and most of us had hopes of great things in the future; the less definite the

t chorus had died away, he bid us all farewell; for on the morrow, he said, he purposed to enter the Augustinian monastery as a novice! At first, some treated this as a jest; but his look and bearing soon banished that idea. Then all earnestly endeavoured to dissuade him from his purpose. Some spoke of the expectations the university had formed of him-others, of t

u see me; after this y

le we pressed on him the thousand unanswerable arguments which had occurred to us since we parted from him, his rooms were empty, and he was nowhere

e heavy convent gates. After some minutes they we

Luther here

; not, we thought, without

k with him," dem

k with him," was t

when?"

ide, and then came the decisive a

us, we heard the massive bolts rattle as they were drawn, and all our assaults with fists

urmured one at length; "the gr

ours with him in social converse; where I and many of us had spent so many an hour in intimate, affectionate intercourse,-his presence wou

ical-were piled up carefully in one corner, and directed to the booksellers. In looking over the well-known volumes, I only missed two, Virgil and Plautus; I suppose he took these with him. Whilst we were looking at a parcel

th his own hands building up a barrier between him and all who love him best. With the dead, if they are happy, we may hold communion-at least the Creed speaks of the communion of saints; we may pray to them; or, at the worst, we may pray for them. But between the so

ly to be won in this way,-it is of little moment indeed what the suffering may be to us or any belonging t

erial?-we may say, the very audience-chamber of the King of kings. Besides, if he had a vocation, what curse might not follow despising it

ly

fervent impulse, and drawn him into their net. Some, however, especially those of the school of Mutianus-the Humanists-laugh, and say there are ways through the cloister to the court,-an

d been meditating this st

feet, and nearly stunned him. He was alone, and far from shelter; he felt his soul equally alone and unsheltered. The thunder seemed to him the angry voice of an irresistible, offended God. The next flash might wither his body to ashes, and smite his soul into the flames it so terribly recalled; and the next thunder-peal which followed might echo like the trumpet of doom over him lying unconscious, deaf, and mute in death. Unconscious and mute

, and the peals of thunder, as they rumbled more and more faintly in th

f his purpose except to those who would, he thought, sustain him in it. This was no doubt

them he must first acquaint his father of his purpose, as an act of confidence only due to a parent who had denied himself so much and toiled so hard to maintain his son liberally at the university. But the rector and the monks rejoined that he must not consult wit

ed Martin's intentions, confirmed him in them wi

remonstrance between him and the cloister. She is a very religious woman. To offer her son, her pride, to God, would have been offering the de

as content to go through any self-denial and toil that Martin, the pride of the whole family, might have scope to develop his abilities. But to have the fruit of all his counsel, and care, and work buried in a convent, will be very bitter to him. It was terrible advice for the rector to give his son. And yet, no doubt, God has the first claim; and to expos

ber,

covered with snow, his feet were bare; but it was no unfrequent sight, and I was idly and half-unconsciously watching him pause at door after door, and humbly receiving any contributions that were off

ave embraced him as of old; but he bowed low as he received the bread, until his fore

aid, "do you

ent," he said. "It is against th

let him go with

s help thee, Broth

n his toilsome quest for alms with stooping form and downcast eyes. But how changed his face was! The flush of youth and health quite faded from the thin, hollow cheeks;

a greeting! Is there no pleasure to the obscure and ignorant monks in thus humbling one who was so lately so far above them? The hands which wield such rods need to be guided by hearts that are very noble or very tender. Ne

ification or himself for having spoken

n, and if he is thereby earning merits to bestow

y,

vows in the Augustinian Church. Once more we heard the clear, pleasant voice which most of us had heard, in song and animated conversation, on that farewell evening. It sounded weak and thin, n

ther, prior of this cloister, in the name and in the stead of the general prior of the order of the Eremites of St. Augustine

was placed in his hand. The prior murmured a prayer over him, and insta

e monks led him up the steps into the choir,

ho minister before the altar! And we, his old friends, left outside in th

enetrable barrier, between us and him at the judgment-day? And we

ary,

dear, self-denying, loving Elsè a new dress for holidays, although she protested her old crimson petticoat and black jacket were as good as ever. The child Eva has still that deep, calm, earnest look in her eyes, as if she saw into the world of things unseen and et

ore sacred than when sung by the fullest choir. Her great favourite is St. Bernard's "Jesu Dulcis Memoria," and his "Salve Caput Cruentatum;" but some verses of the "Dies Ir?

me sedist

cissime, Do

ipotens, Rex

s sufficit mi

compulit sa

caritas tra

latium desere

ediens vallu

scipis, et it

ice. Latin seems from her lips no more a dead language. It is as if she had learned it naturally in infancy from listening to

her father left her before he died, but which she was never allowed to see afterwards. Sh

innocent heart from the snares of those pernicious heretics, against whom our Saxon nation made such a noble struggle. There are not very many of the Hussites left now in Bohemia. As a national party they are indeed destroyed, since the Calixtines separated from them. There are, however, still a few dragging out a miserable existence among the forests a

, May

ury, and Martin's father, John Luther, came from Mansfeld to be present at the ceremony. He is reconciled at last to his son (whom for a long time he refused to see); although not, I believe, to his monastic profession. It is certainly no willing sacrifice on the father's part. And no wonder. After toilin

ather, and came in pomp with precious gifts to do him honour. He rode to the convent

nd approval. It was of the deepest interest to me to hear his familiar eloquent voice again, pleading for his father's approval. But he failed. In vain he sta

choice to become a monk? Why wert thou then so displeased, and perhaps

e much for the peacefulness of his life; but Master John Luthe

en, did you never read the Scriptures, 'Thou shalt honour thy father and thy mother?'

harp pain came over his face, as if an arrow had

mmitted even to the holy angels-to transubstantiate br

the inner circle of

idst a drowning world. And what is more, he himself may, from his safe and sacred vessel, stoop down and rescue

he bear that the arrow

e thine, O mournful m

Is God leading me, or the devil? Am I resisting His higher calling in only obeying the h

e has chosen them. At least he has not to listen to such tales as I have heard lately from a young knight, Ulrich von Hutton, who is studying here at present,