years before from the Monastery of Nimptsch. There the word of God had reached them. They studied it diligently, and came to the conclusion that the salvation of their souls would not permit them to remain any longer in a cloister.” On reaching Wittenberg, they were received into the families of Christian friends; and most of them were now married. Catherine, however, still remained. One or two husbands had been proposed for her with Luther's approval; but in the one case it would appear the gentleman did not want Catherine, in the other Catherine did not want the gentleman. When Luther first learned to love her, we are not told; but certain it is that it was not in compliance with any cold arrangement of convenience that he made her his wife. He loved her with all the tenderness of his large, warm heart— loved her truly, but did not forget who bestowed the gift upon him. "Dear friend," he said to one who was to be married, "do thou as I did when I would take my Ketha. I prayed to our Lord God with all my heart. A good wife is a companion of life, and her husband's solace and joy; and when a pious man and wife love each other truly, the devil has little power to hurt them."

And Catherine was worthy of a good man's love, and very fit to be the wife of a man whose life was surrounded with perils. She was brave and courageous, yet withal gentle and good, unselfish and loving. She was not specially distinguished by learning or intellectual gifts of any kind; but she was endowed with a large amount of common sense-she knew how to manage her household well, and conduct her affairs with discretion.

Luther's friends rejoiced to think of the home he should now have. "God grant that all may proceed happily," he writes to Spalatin, "and that I may celebrate my conjugal union, and publicly commence my entrance on the marriage state; and I do not only expect your presence, but also your advice; and especially hope that, by your attention, we may be in no want of venison." To Dr. Link he wrote, "At a time when my thoughts were quite otherwise engaged, God has brought me into a matrimonial union with the amiable and virtuous Catherine de Bora, who was previously a professed nun; and on the Tuesday after Midsummer day, I intend to give an entertainment. But I will not have you, good Doctor Link, load yourself with any expenses; but if you still desire to come to the wedding, I will not have you bring a goblet, or anything of that kind, as a present; but I entreat you to wish me joy, with the blessing of God, and to pray for me.”

There was no lack of presents, however. The Senate of Wittemberg sent fourteen measures of different sorts of wine as a gift on this occasion, and the Elector John Frederic made a wedding present of" twelve brewings of beer yearly."

Amsdorff and Pomeranus, and the famous painter Lucas Cranach, were amongst the guests. Old John Luther, too, and his pious wife Margaret, had come from Mansfield to be present-the good old father now rejoicing as heartily over his son as he had grieved bitterly when he gave himself up to what he regarded as the useless life of a monk.

And now the wedding is over. The voices of congratulation have died

away. The storm of reproach, too, has somewhat spent its force; and Luther and his Ketha are left alone to order their new lives, and to enter on the practice of their new duties. How happy they are, Luther's letters testify. To Stiefel he writes:Catherine, my dear rib, salutes you. She is quite well, thank God; gentle, obedient, and kind in all things, far beyond my hopes. I would not exchange my poverty with her for all the riches of Croesus without her."

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And truly the Augustinian convent, (which, on the dispersion of the monks, had been given to Luther as a residence) is now a pleasant place to look in upon. The old ascetic gloom has vanished under Ketha's brightening ways, and the house has the cheerful air of what it really is, a happy, Christian home. There sits the doctor, thin and worn-looking, but with a peaceful gladness in the firm glance of his keen, bright eye. He is busy amongst his papers, endless letters seeking help and advice have to be answered. Or he is rapidly throwing off sheet after sheet of those trumpet-tongued works which ring through the land, stirring hearts everywhere, from the palace to the cottage. And Ketha sits quietly beside with her work-producing his own portrait, it may be in embroidery -ready to make a remark when it is needed, or ready to sit simply by and watch with loving eyes the husband who is so dear to her. But now the papers are thrown aside, and they go out to the garden to the fresh air and the shadow of the pear-tree, and while Ketha still plies her needle, Luther waters his melons, or constructs his fountain and his fish-pond; now and again returning to the seat

under the pear-tree to talk of the wisdom and love of God, as seen in the birds aud the flowers, and the bright sky over their heads. With a beautiful freshness of heart, he has intense enjoyment in all simple pleasures; and with habitual devoutness of spirit he traces a Father's hand in all. "Glory to God," he cries, "who from the dead creation thus raises up life again in the springtime. Behold these branches, how strong, how beautiful they are! Already they teem, and are big with the fruit which they will bring forth. They offer a beautiful image of the resurrection of all men. The winter season represents death; the summertide, the resurrection. Then all things live again, all is verdant." It was a great solace to him—this garden. "When Satan and his servants storm and rage," he wrote to a friend, "I laugh at him, and contemplate the garden, where I can enjoy the blessings of my Creator and sing His praise."

The dinner hour has come, and Luther's table is surrounded by his friends. There are Melancthon, Jonas, Aurifaber, and others. A place at this table was a coveted privilege. To Gaspard Müller Luther writes: "I would willingly have received Kegel into my family circle, for various reasons; but as young Porse, of Jena, is on the eve of returning here, my table will be full, and I cannot send away my old and faithful companions to make room for new friends. However, it is possible that, after Easter, we may have room, and in that case I will do as you desire that is if, my lord, Catherine will grant us her permission, of which I have no doubt." The Reformer

was himself extremely simple and temperate in his living; but he loved to have an ample table for the entertainment of his friends. And there, in the society of those he loved and trusted, his genial humour found full vent; his playful wit flashed forth unconstrainedly, and many a burst of hearty, healthful laughter was heard to proceed from the family room that comfortable room, with the large window down to the ground. How rich and animated the conversation which fills up the afternoon hours! Often, indeed, there are anxious discussions regarding the progress of the good cause to which their lives are devoted. But these large-minded and cultured men can interest themselves in other subjects also. Lucas Cranach talks of his loved art; and fine pictures and noble poems, the fruits of genius and learning in all ages, form delightful themes of conversation. While over all, and throughout all, runs such a vein of devout reference to the Creator of all beauty, the Giver of every good gift, that heaven, and all that is good and fair on earth, seem wondrously linked together. And after Luther has thrilled their hearts, with the strains of the lute or the lyre, and led with his full, rich voice their hymn of praise, these brave men, the leaders in the fight for light and liberty, retire from the cheerful atmosphere, the sweet repose of this Christian home, invigorated for their battles and their perils, their hardships and their toils.

All this time Luther is a poor man in worldly goods. The income which he derives from the offices he holds is small, and he permits the printers to swallow up all the profits of his works. And in the course of years the

Augustinian convent rings with merry young voices, and there are little mouths to be filled. Then the Reformer's charities are great. Needy students and needy persons of all descriptions apply to him, and he cannot send them away empty. The story is well-known of his giving a silver cup to a poor student when he had nothing else to bestow, notwithstanding the remonstrating looks of his wife. On another occasion he bestowed in charity the present of the sponsors of his newly-born babe, comforting his Ketha with the hope of a blessing in future." There is extant a very touching letter of his to his wife regarding an old servant who was about to leave them, in which he entreats her to be liberal to him, and if she finds difficulty in procuring the necessary money, he tells her, "We have a silver goblet, which you can pawn. God will not forsake us, I am sure."

Nor was his charity confined to the giving of pecuniary help. Twice he braved the danger of the pestilence, when its ravages were striking terror into all hearts. He visited the sick fearlessly, and received into his own home the children of friends who had been smitten down by it. And when some people told him this was no better than a tempting of Providence, he replied, "Ah! I have had masters who have taught me what tempting God is; the present is nothing of the sort."

And this home, so open to the afflicted, was a singularly happy one. Love and peace reigned there. "My lord Ketha was obliged, indeed, to look well after their means, and sometimes to resist the excessive generosity of the Master. But there ever existed between them the most thorough con

fidence and sympathy. This is apparent even in the playful way in which Luther sometimes calls his wife " My Empress Catherine," and such-like names; and in his remark that, if he were to marry again, he would carve an obedient wife for himself out of a block of stone, for it was impossible to find such a one in reality. But all the while she was his "heartily beloved consort," his "dear and gracious wife," his "pious and amiable Ketha," his "dearest Kate," and "he would not exchange her for the kingdom of France, nor the treasures of the Venetians." How much he relied on her is seen from the remark that he feared he was too apt "to expect more from his Ketha and from Melancthon, than from Christ his Lord."

And so the years passed on with them, in work, and prayer, and praise. It were difficult to say which predominated. We marvel at the amount of work which Luther accomplished. We marvel still more when we read of the many hours devoted to prayer. But no doubt the work was greater that the prayer abounded. "Prayer," said Luther," is the Christian's busi

ness.

." "I have, on several occasions," says Melancthon, "surprised him by himself in the act of prayer, hot tears streaming down his cheeks, whilst earnestly entreating God for the welfare of the Church." He adds that Luther dedicated several hours of each day to the recitation of psalms, and to prayer.

But the time approached that this life, sweet and beautiful at home, as it was brave and energetic in the world, should draw to a close. He was not an aged man; he numbered only sixty-three years. his early fastings, and his excessive

had

But

labours and anxieties, had told on his frame. At intervals, too, he had been afflicted by severe illnesses, sometimes of a very peculiar and painful character-so peculiar that he felt inclined to ascribe them to the agency of Satan. He felt that he was getting feeble, and would fain, he says, have enjoyed "the pleasures of an old man in the garden, contemplating the wonders of God's creation in the trees, the flowers, herbs, and birds." But it was not to be so. Luther's work was to terminate only with his life.

In the January of 1546 he went to Eisleben, his native place, at the earnest entreaty of the Counts of Mansfield, to endeavour to arrange some differences which had arisen between them regarding property. He was very unfit to leave home, but his heart was engaged in this affair— and he seems to have anticipated that his time for work was near an end.

“I feel,” he says, "that I shall lie down on my death-bed with joy, when I have seen my dear lords reconciled, and once more friends." And so on the 23rd of January, he left Wittemberg, accompanied by his three sons and several friends.

The journey was difficult and not without danger, in consequence of the flooding of a river which they had to cross. He writes to his anxious Catherine, "You will give advice to God, as if it were not possible with the Almighty to create ten Dr. Luthers if the old one was drowned in the Saale ? do not trouble either me or yourself with any more anxiety; I have a better protection than you or all the angels; namely, Him who slept with the oxen, and hung on the Virgin's breast, but who now sits at