AVOEMS.

41

the various scenes of their early lives flash one aftcr anotherthrough their brain, so the mind fancies that Martin Luther,believing himself to be on his way to the stake, must, inbis short rest under the tree that now bears his name atPfiffligheim, have lived over again the several events of hischildhood.

Now he dreams that he is the poor woodcutter's child,once more following his mother through the Mansfeldt forests,and gathering up his little fagot as she binds the brokenboughs together.

Then he is with his father, tending the rüde smeltingfurnaces recently set up in the mines, and watching, whileall around is crimson with the fires and grimy with thesmoke, the dazzling streatn of liquid glowing metal shootfrom the loosened tap of clay—white as though it were arope of snow.

Next he is the poor scholar at the Franciscan school atMagdeburg. It is the festival of Christ's nativity, and he,in Company with children poorer than himself, is wanderingfrom house to house through the neighbouring villages, sing-ing " in four parts" the usual carols on the infant Jesus, bornat Bethlehem, in the hopes of obtaining a little food to satisfyhis wants.

A moment afterwards he is at Eisenbach, and againchanting with his schoolfellows from door to door, to obtaina morsel of bread. Suddenly a woman appears on the thresh-old of one of the houses: it is Ursula, the wife of ConradCotta, and daughter of the burgomaster of Ilefeld. Shehas been touched by the sweetness of Martin's voice, andrecognises his figure as one she has often noted among theassemblies of the faithful. She has just seen him, too, drivenwith frowns and harsh words from the doors of her neighbours,and now that she beholds him standing so sadly before her own