A STORY TOLD BY A DETECTIVE.

by the author of "the leavenwouth mukdkr," "a strange disappearance," "the sword op damocles," etc.

CHAPTER ll.— {Continued.)

TUB BLACK DOMINO.

I started, recognising in this mode of speech a friend, and therefore one from whom I could not oscapo without running tho risk of awakening suspicion.

"That is true," I returned, hoping'by my abrupt replies to cut short this fresh colloquy and win a speedy release. But something in my answer roused tho interest of the person at my side, and caused a display of emotion that lod to quite an opposite rosult from what 1 desired. " You awaken a thousand conjectures in my mind by that reply," exclaimed my friend, edging mo a little father back from the crowd. " 1 have always had my doubts about—about—" ho paused, limiting for tho proper phrase—"about your having dono what thoy said," ho somewhat lamely con cluded. "It was so unlike you. But now I begin to see tho presence of a possibility that misfit perhaps explain much wo never understood. Joe, my boy, you never said you wore innocent, but " "Who are you;" I asked boldly, peering into the twinkling eyes that shone upon mo from his sedate mask. "In the discussion of such matters as those, it would be dread ful to make a mistake."

"And don't you recognise your Uncle Toe?" lie asked, with a certain plaintive re proach somewhat out of keeping witli his cosUimo of " potent, grave, and reverend siguior." " I came over from Hollo well on purpose, because Carrie intimated that you wore going to make one final effort, to see your father. Edith is hero too," ho mur mured, thrusting his face alarmingly near mine. " She would not slay away, though wo wore all afraid she might betray herself ; her emotion., aro so quick. Poor child ! ./Fnover doubted you ; and if my suspicions aro correct "

" Edith ?" I interrupted,—" Edith?" An Edith was the last person I desired to meet under these circumstances. " Where is she ?" I tremulously inquired, starting aside in some dismay at tho prospect of encounter ing this unknown quantity of love and devotion.

But my companion, seizing me by tho arm, drew 1110 back. "She is not far away ; of that you may bo sure. But it will nev .»• do for you to try and hunt hor up. You would not know her in her mask. Besides, if you remain si ill she will como to you." That was just what 1 feared, but upon looking round and seeing no suspicious looking dam-ad anywhere near me, I con cluded to waive my apprehensions on her account and proceed to the development of an idea that had been awakened by the old gentleman's words. " Yon are right," I acquiesced, edging, in my (urn, toward tho curtained recess of a window near by. " Let us wait here, and meantime you shall tell mo what your suspicions are, for I feel tho timo has come tor tho truth to bo mado known, and who could hotter aid me in proclaiming it than you who have always stood my friend '.'" " That is true," he murmured, all eager lies., at one*. Then in a lower tono and with a significantgesturo : "There is some thing, Hun, which has never been made kn,own ■'. Edith was right when she said you did not steal Uic bonds out of your father's desk?" I

As he paused and looked me in the face, I was obliged to make somo reply. I chose one of the non-committal sort.

" Don't ask me F I murmured, turning away with every appearance of profound agitation. He did not suspect thc ruse. " But, my boy, 1 shall have to nsk you ; if I am to help you out of this scrape, I must know the truth. Yet if it is as I sus pect, I can see why you should hesitate even now. You aro a generous fellow, Joe, but even generosity can bo carried past its proper limits."

" Uncle," I exclaimed, leaning over him and whispering tremulously in his car, " what ate your suspicions? If I hear you give utterance to them, perhaps it will not be so hard for mo to speak." Ho hesitated, looked all about us with a questioning glance, put his mouth to my car, and whispered : " If 1 should uso tho nnmo of Hartloy in connection with what I have to say, would you Vio so very much surprised--" With a quick scmblnnco of emotion, I drew back.

" You think—" 1 tremulously com menced, and as suddenly broko off. " Tliat it was ho who did it, and that you, knowing how your father loved him and built his hopes upon him, bore tho blame of it yourself.' " Ha !'"! exclaimed, with a deep breath as of relief. The suspicions of Undo .100 were worth hearing. He seemed to bo satisfied with tho ejacula tion, and with an incrcaso of eagerness in his tone, wont quickly on : "Am I not right, my boy ? Is not this the secret of your whole conduct from that dreadful day to this ?" " Don't ask mo," I again pleaded, taking care, however, to draw a stop nearer and exclaim in almost tho same breath : " Why should you think it must necessarily have been ono of us ? What did you know that you should be so positivo it was either he or I who committed this dishonest action ?" "What did I know? Why, what Q-.-crybody olse did. That your father, hear in!; a noise in his study ono night, rose up quietly and slipped to tho door of communi cation in timo to hear a stealthy foot leave the room and proceed down the hall toward the apartment usually occupied by you and your brother; that, alarmed and filled with vaguo distrust, he at once lit the lamp, Only to discover his desk had beon forcibly broken into and a number of coupon bonds taken out; that, struck to the heart, he went immediately to tho room whore you and your brother lay, found him lying quiet, and to all appearance asleep, while you looked flushed and with difficulty met his eye; that without hesitation he thereupon accused you of theft, and be^an to search flhe apartment; that he found the bonds as we both know, in a cupboard at tho head of your bed, and when you were asked if you had put them there you remained silent, and neither then nor afterward mado any denial of being the one who stole thom." A mournful "Yes" was all the reply I ventured upon. "Now it never seemed to occur to your father to doubt your guilt, the open win

dow and the burglar's jimmy found lying on the floor of the study being only so many proofs, to his mind, of your deep calculation and deep duplicity. But I could not help thinking, even on that hor rible morning, that your face did not wear a look of guilt so much as it did that of firm and quiet resolution. But I was far from suspecting the Jtruth, my boy, or I should never have allowed you to fall a victim to your fathor's curse, and be sent forth like a criminal from home and kindred. If only for Edith's sake I would have spoken—dear, trusting, faithful girl that sho is !" "But —but—" I brokenly ejaculated, anxious to gain as much of the truth as was possible in the few minutes allotted me ; " what has awakened your suspicions at this late day ? Why should you doubt Hartley now, if you did not then ." " Well, I cannot really say. Perhaps Edith's persistent aversion to your brother has had something to do with it. Then he has grown cold and hard, while you havo preserved yoor boyish freshness and affec tion. I—l don't like him, that is the truth ; and with my dislike arose doubts, and—and well, I cannot toll how it is, but I will believe you if you say ho was the one to blame in this matter ; and what is moro, your father will believe you too; for ho doe. not feel the samo satisfaction in Hartley's irre proachable character that lie used to, and— and —"

A suddon movement in the crowd stopped him. A tall, graceful-looking woman clad entirely in white had just entered the room and seemed to be making her way towards us.

"There is Edith I" he declared. "She ishuuting for the yellow domino ornamented with black that she has been told conceals her lover. Shall I go and fetch hor hero, or will you wait until she spies you of hoi own accord ?"

" I will wait," I uneasily replied, edging nearer to the window with tho determination of using it as a means of escape if my com panion only gave mo the chance. "Seo! she is in thehands of an old .lew, who seems to be greatly taken with tho silver trimmings on her sleeves. Suppose you improve the opportunity to slip away," I laughing,y suggested. "Lovers' meetings aro not usually of an order to interest third par tics."

" Aren't they, you rogue I" retorted tho old gentleman, giving me a jocose poke in the ribs. "Well—well, I suppose you are right. But you have not told me —" " I will tell you everything in an hour," I hastily assured him. "1 am going to meet my father in tho library, and after ho has hoard the truth, you shall bo admitted and all will be explained."

"That is only fair," he replied. "Your father has the first rights, of course. But doe, my boy, remember lam not over and abovo patient of disposition, and don't kcop me waiting too long." And with mi affec tionate squeeze of my hand, he stopped out from tho recess when: we stood and mado his way onco more into tho throng. Nojjooner had ho loftn.y side than I throw up thowindow, "Nowistho timo forthe real Joe to appear on tho scene," was my mental decision. "I havo done for him what ho as a gentloman would probably novor do for himself—pumped this old party and got everything in trim for Hartley's discom fiture But the courting business isanothor matter; also tho interview with the out raged father in the library. That cannot be done by proxy; so here goes for a change of actors.

And with reckless disregard of con sequences, I prepared to jump from the window, when a sudden light flashed over the lawn beneath, and I saw I was at loa'.t twelve foot from the ground. " Well," I exclaimed, drawing hastily back ; "such a leap an that is too much to expect of any man !" And with the humiliating consciousness of being caught in a trap, liTroceedcdtoclo.se the window. " Joe !" 'Twas a low whisper, but how thrilling ! Turning, I greeted, with the show of fervour I considered necessary to the occasion, the white-veiled lady who had glided into my retreat.

"Did you think I was never coming, Joe? Everybody who could get in my way cer tainly managed to do so. Then Hartley is so suspicious, and followed mo with his eyes so persistently, I did not dare show my designs too plainly. It is only this minute he left ray side. Ifj you had beon any where pise I do not know as I should have succeeded even now in getting a word with you—oh I" This exclamation was called forth by a sudden movement that took place near us. Tho curtain was drawn back and a tall man dressed in a black domino glanced in, gave us a scrutinising look, bowed, and dropped tho curtain again. " Hartley,"she whisperingly explained. I took her by the hand ; there was no help for it; gesture and a lovor-like demeanour must, in this case, supply tlie placo of speech. " Hush !" sho intrcated. (Not that I had spoken.) " I dare not stay. Whon you havo seen your father, perhaps I will have courage to join you; but now it would bo better for me to go." And her eyes roamed toward tho curtain, while the Httlo hand I held in mine grew cold and slightly trembled. 1 pressed that little hand, hut, as you may well believe, did not urgo hor to remain. Yet sho did not seem in a hurry to depart, and I do not know what complications might havo onsued if another movomont in the curtain had not roawakened her fears and caused her, notwithstanding her evi dent roluctanco, to start quickly away. I did not linger long bohind her. Scarcely had tho curtain fallen from her hand than I stepped hastily forth. But, alas for my hopes of escapo ! No sooner had I joined tho group of merry-makers circling about tlie ojien door than I felt a touch on my arm, and looking up, saw beforo mo tho Black Domino. The hour of ten had struck, and my guide to the library was at hand. There was no alternative left mo but to follow him.

CHAPTER 111.

AX UNEXPECTED CALAMITY

Five minutes passed, during which I threaded moro laughing groups and saun tered down moro mysterious passage-ways than I would caro to count. Still the mysterious Black Domino glided on before me, leading mo from door to door till my patience was exhausted, and I had wellnigh determined to give him tho slip and mako my way at onco to the garden, and tho no doubt (by this time) highly-impatient Joe.

But beforo I had tho opportunity to carry out this scheme, the ominous Black Domino paused, and carelessly pointing to a door at the termination of a narrow corridor, bowed, and hastily withdrew. " Now," said I, as soon as I found myself alone, " shall I proceed with this farce, or shall I end it ? To go on means to interview Mr Benson, acquaint him with what has come to my knowledge during the last half hour in which I have so successfully personi fied hisson.and byth esemeansperhapsawake him to the truth concerning this serious matter of Joseph's innocence or Hartley's guilt; while to stop now implies nothing more or less than.a full explanation with his son, a man of whose character, manners, and disposition I know little or nothing." Either alternative presented infinite difficulties, but of the two the former

seemed tome more feasible and less em barrassing. At all events, in talking with Mr Benson, I should not have the sensibi lities of a lover to contend with, and, how ever unfortunate in its results our inter view might be, would be at the mercy of old blood instead of young, a point always to be considered in a case where one's pre sumption has boon carried beyond the bounds of docorum. "

Unlocking the door, I stepped, as I had been told I should, into a small room adjoin ing the library. All around me were books. Even the door by which I had en tered was laden with them, so that whon it was closed all vestige of the door itself dis appeared. Across the opening into the library stood a screen, and it was not until I had pushed this somewhat aside that I was able to look into that room.

My first glance assured me it was empty. Stark and bare of any occupant, the high backed chairs loomed in the funereal gloom, while on tho table toward which I inad vertently glanced, stood a decanter with a solitary wineglass at its side. Instantly I remembered what had been told mo about that glass, and stepping forward, I took it up and looked at it. Immediately I heard, or thought I heard, an exclamation uttered somewhere near me. But upon glancing up and down the room and perceiving no one, I concluded I was mistaken, and deliberately proceeded to oxamine tho wine-glass and assure myself that no wine had as yet been poured upon tho powder I found in it. Satisfied at last that Mr Benson had not yet taken his usual evening potion, I put the glass back and withdrew again to my retreat. I do not think another minute could have elapsed beforo I heard a step in tho room behind mo. A door lea_ling into an adjoin ing apartment had opened and Mr Benson had como in. He passed immediately to the table, poured out tho wine upon the powder, and drank it off without a moment's hesita tion. I hoard him sigli as he put the glass down.

With a turn of my hand I slipped off both domino and mask, and prepared to an nounce my presence by tapping on the lintel of tho door beside which I stood. But a suddon change in Mr Benson's lofty figure startled me. Ho was swaying, and the amis which had fallen to his side were moving with a convulsive action that greatly alarmed me. But almost instantly ho recovered himself, and paced with a steady step toward the hall door, which at that moment resounded with a short, loud knock.

"Who is there?" he asked, with every appearance of his usual sternness. " Hartloy," was tho reply. "Are you alone?" tho old gentleman again queried, making a move as if to un lock the door.

"Carrie is with mo ; no one else," came in smothered accents from without.

Mr Benson at onco turned the key, but no sooner had ho done so than ho staggered back. For an instant or two of horror he stood oscillating from side to side, then his frame succumbed, and the terrified eyes of his children beheld his white head lying low, all movement and appearance of life gono from tho form that but a moment be foro towered so proudly beforo them. With a shriek, tho daughter flung her self down at his side, and even the cheek of Hartloy Benson grow white as he leaned over his father's already inanimate body. " He is dead !" came in a wild cry from horlips. " See !ho does not breathe. Oh, Hartloy, what could havo happened ? Do you think that Joe—" " Hush !" ho exclaimed, with a furtive glance around him. "Ho may bo here ; let mo look. If Joe has done this—" Ho did not continue, but rose, and with a rapid tread began to cross tho floor in my direction.

In a flash I realised my situation. To be found by him now, without a domino, and in the position of listener, would be any thing but desirable. But I knew of no way of escape, or so for tho moment it seemed. But groat emergencies call forth sudden resources. In tho quick look I inadvertently threw around me I observed that the portiere hanging between me and tho library was gathered at ono side in very heavy folds. If I could hide behind them perhaps I might elude tho casual glance he would probably cast into my place of concealment. At all events it was worth trying, and at the thought I glided behind tho curtain. I was not disap pointed in my calculations. Arrived at tho door, he looked in, porceived tho domino lying in a heap on tho floor, and im mediately drew back with an exclamation of undoubted satisfaction.

" Ho is gone," said he, crossing back to his sister's side. Then in a tone of mingled irony and bitterness, bard to describe, cried aloud with a. glance toward tho open door : "Ho has first killed his father and thon fled. Fool that I was to think he could be trusted I"

A horrified " Hartloy!" burst from liis sister's lips and a suppressed but equally vehement " Villain I" from mine; but neither of us had timo for more for almost at tho same instant tho room filled with ( frightened guests, among which I discerned tho fneo and form of the old servant Jonas, and the flowing robes and tho white garments of Uncle Joe and tho graceful Edith.

To describo tho confusion that followed would bo beyond my powers, especially as my attention was at tho timo not so much directed to tho effect produoed by this catastrophe as to tho man whom, from the moment Mr Benson fell to tlie floor, I regarded as my lawful proy. Ho did not quako and loao his presence of mind in this terrible crisis. Ho was gifted with too much self-control to betray any unseemly agitation even over such a matter as his father's suddon death. Onco only did I detect his lip tremble, and that was when an olderly gentloman (presumably a doctor) exclaimed lifter a careful examination of the fallon man:

"This is no caso of apoplexy, gentle men !"

Thon indeed Mr Hartloy Benson shivered and betrayed an emotion for which I con sidered myself as receiving a due explana tion when, a few minutes later, I observed the samo gentleman lay his hand upon tlie decanter and glass that stood on tho tablo, and after raising them one after the other to his nose, slowly shake his head, and with a furtive look around him, lock them both in a small cupboard that opened over the mantel-piece.

(To be Continued.)

A girl was recently arrested for being disguised as an old woman. If all tlie old women who appear in the disguise of girls were arrested, the gaols would have tho ap pearance of sardine boxes.

At Brisbane, Zulu Thompson's panorama has been unrolled at the Theatre Royal, and at the Albert Hall therea Company known as the London Opera Bouffe Company, of which Miss Josephine Deakin is the star, is playing "Patience."

Mr Bland Holt, the Australian repro ducer of Drury Lane sensations, was lately the recipient of a compliment at the hands of his company and other theatrical people in Sydney. He was entertained at a picnic and presented with an illuminated address and cigar-case.

LUTHER.

BY JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE. t

To-day (November 10th) being tho 400th anniversary of Luther's birth, wo reprint the following brilliant paragraph from the " Contemporary Review" : — PART I. At last wo have a Life of Luther which deservos the name. Lives there have been in various languages, and collections of letters, and the table talk, and details more or less accurate in histories of the Reforma tion ; but a biography which would show us Luther in all aspects—as a child, as a man, as the antagonist of popes and princes, and as a father and a householder in his own home, as he appeared to tho world, and as he appeared to his wife and children and his personal friends—for such a biography Europe has waited till the eve of tho four hundredth anniversary of his birth. Tho greatest men, strange to say, are those of whom the world has been contented to know tho least. Tho "lives" of tho greatest saints of the Church are little more than legonds. A few pages will contain all that can bo authentically learnt of Raphael or Shakspearo. Of Luther, at all events, this can no longer bo said. Tho Horr Kdstlin in a single well composed volume has produced a picture which leaves little to be desired. A student who has read these GOO pages attentively will havo no questions left to ask. Ho will have hoard Luther speak in his own racy provincial German. He will have seen him in the pulpit. He will have seen him in Kings' Courts and Imperial Diets. He will have seen him at his own table, or working in his garden, or by his children's bedside. Ho will have seen, moreover—and it is a further merit of this most excellent book—a series of carefully engraved portraits from the jbost pictures of Luther himself, of his wife and family, and of all the most eminent men with whom his work forced him into friendship or col lision.

Such a volume is singularly valuable to us, now especially, when the forces of the great spiritual deep are again broken up; when tho intellect, dissatisfied with tho answers which Luther furnished to the great problems of life, is claiming on one side to revise those answers, and this great Italian enemy, whom he and the Protestant world after him called Antichrist, is pretending on the other that he was right after all, and that we must believe in him or in nothing. The Evangelicals are faint-hearted. The men of science are indifferent. The Roman ists see their opportunity of revenging themselves on the memory of one who in life wrought them so much woe and shame; and had no such effort been made, Luther's history would have been overgrown, like a neglected grave, with the briers and nettles of scandal. The philosophy of history undervalues the work of individual persons. It attributes political and spiritual changes to invisible forces operating in the heart of society, regarding the human actors as no more than ciphers. It is true that some treat spiritual convulsion would certainly ave shaken Europe in the sixteenth century, for the Papal domination was in tellectually and morally undermined; but the movement, inevitable as it was, might have lasted a hundred years, and the results might have been utterly different. If it had been left to Erasmus and the human ists, tho shell of Romanism. might have survived for centuries, while a cultivated Epicureanism took the place of real belief and dissolved the morality of mankind. If the revolt had been led by fanatics like Carlstadt, or Zwingle, or Mllnzer, the princes of the Empire would have com bined to drown an insurrection in blood which threatened the very existence of society. That the Reformation was able to establish itsolf in the shape which it assumed was due to the one fact that there existed at the crisis a single pcr_on of commanding mind as the incarna tion of the purest wisdom which then existed in Germany, in whose words tho bravest, truest, and most honest men saw their own thoughts represented; and because they recognised this man as the wisest among them, he was allowed to impress on the Reformation his own individuality. The tirades of that one mind are to be seen to-day in tho mind of the modern world. Had there been no Luther, the English, Ameri can, and German peoples would be thinking differently, would be acting differently, would be altogether different men "and women from what they are at this moment. Tho Luders, Luthers—the name is the same as Lothair—were a family of peasants at Mohra or More, a village on tho skirts of the Thuringian forest in the Electorate of Saxony. "I am a peasant's son," Luther wrote; "father, grandfather, great grandfather, were nil peasants." The fathor, Hans or John, was 0 miner. He learnt his trade in a copper mine at Miihrn, but removed in early manhood to ;Eislebe_i, whore business was more active; and there, being a tough, thrifty, indus trious man, he did well for himself. The Miihra people were a hard race—what the Scotch call "dour"—and Hans Luther was one of them. He married a peasant woman like himself, and from this marriage, now just 400 yoarsago, on tho 10th of Novcmbor, 1483, camo into the world at Eisleben his first-born son Martin.

Six months later, still following his mining work, Hans moved hia family to Mansfold, a few miles distant, in a valley on tho slopes of the Harta mountains. He continued to prosper. He worked himself with his pick in tho mine shafts. The wife cut and carried the wood for the cottage. Hans, steadily rising, becamothe proprietor of a couple of smelting furnaces; in 1491 he became one of tho fourJChuroh elders— what wo should call churchwardens. He drew tho attention of Count Mansfeld him self, whose castle overhung the -village, and was held in high esteem by him. Melanc thon, who knew both Hans and his -wife; admired and honoured both of them. Their portraits were takon afterward by Cranach —the features of both expressing honesty, piety, and clear intelligence. Martin was tho eldest of seven children ; he was brought up kindly, of 'course, but without special tenderness. He honoured and loved his parents, as he was bound to do, but he thought in his own later life that they had been overharsh with him. He remembered that he had been beaten more than once for trifles worse than his fault deserved.

Of the village school to which ho was early sent his recollections were only pain ful. He was taught to read and write, and there was -what pretended to be an elemen tary Latin class. But the schoolmasters of his childhood, he said, wero gaolers and tyrants; and the schools were little hells. A sense of continued wretchedness and in justice weighed on him as long as he re mained there, and made his childhood miserable. But he must have shown talents which encouraged his father to spare no cost on his son's education that his own scanty means would allow. When he was fourteen he was sent to a more expensive school at Madeburg, and thence, after a year, to a still better school at Eisenach, where he was taught thoroughly well, and his mind began to open. Religion, as with

t In review of Luther- Lob on. Von Jptira K-aTWN. Leipzig, 1883.

all superior lads, became the first thon»t with him. He asked himself what (_\S'l was, what he was, and what God require him to do ; and hore the impressions of h? home experiences began to weave &_____ selves into what he learnt from books. Tho old Hans was a God-fearing'^.... who prayed habitually at his children bedsiao ; but ho was one of those straight forward people who had arguments about such things, who believed what he had bee told by his priost, but considered that essentially, religion meant the leodine good lifo. The Hart?, mountains were tF home of gnomes and demons, or at least n( popular belief in such things. Such stori«_ Father Luthor regarded as lies or trickgF? the devil ; but tho devil himself traa grave reality to him; while tho iiiotlw believed in witches, and was terribly afrair. of thom. Hans himself could see str.,s3'' into a good many things. He was T «j _ onco. Tho parish priest came to prerL» him for death, and suggested thatheshoSS leave a legacy to the Church. Jfoa answered, "I have many children. liJSr give what I have to them, they need it mof«.; Ho had something of his son's imagination Looking one day over a harvest fW Martin heard him say, "How strange.! think of the millions of men and women eating and drinking all over the earth-JJj all to be gathered into bundles like tW cornstalks." Many such speeches jts___Z Martin must have remembered and rnJff tated on. Ho had a happy life on thewff at his school at Eisenach. He is descriS as having been a merry, quick young felW fond of German pro. orbs and popular eon* and stories. Ho had a passion for n_,J? and helped out tho cost of his education b. singing carols at night from door to d<*» with three or four companions. A JW I von Cotta, the wifo of a rich EisenS I burgher, took notico of him on these com. I siens, made acquaintance with him a__ | invited him to her house. His promise was still great. His f ß ty who had no leanings for priestcra{t~S[ signed him rather for the law thaalE Church, and when he was eighteen «2 him to Erfurt, which was then theS university'in Germany. It was the periS. of the revival of learning; soholaS; pedantry was deposed from tha throM where it reigned so long, and young jut were beginning to breathe freely, __«„ fresh atmosphere of Ovid and Virgilijij Cicero. Luther rose rapidly by (£ ordinary stops, became Baccalaureua ____ Magistor, and covered himself on the »fr with distinction. He attended law lecta and waded into the Corpus Juris; ___ desires were growing in him which'ti» etudies failed to satisfy. In the Untoa. sity library he found, by accident, a Ujjji Bible, which opened other views of ~Jl___ God required of him. He demraJt, be good, and he know that bo it* not good, Ho was conscious of■ ang tion, pride, vanity, and other young '____&■ passions, of which the Bible toldijfc to cure himself. He was not a xnjur _k whom impressions could be lightly fojjjj and lightly lost; what he felt he felt _. tensely. His lifo had been innocent ,&L; grave faults, but bo was conscious «jj moment of many little ones. "AlfjHC '__ said one day when he was washing1 _% __ hands, "the morel wash them too JoifcH they grow." Tho loss of an intimate l___ _____ brought vividly before him the meanfeifl .death and judgment. ThepopularstoiytjHt the young Alexius, said to have beo_i_m__l at his side bv lightning, is, in iiffi'l legend; but the essence of it _Btru?.j^H turning to Erfurt in the summer of ligH from a visit to his family at ->-______,!(■ was overtaken by a storm. The HgbtpfoH struck the ground before his feet; he is In from his horse. " Holy Anne," heciiisittH| the mother af the Virgin, "help me;.I : »iHI become a -nonk." Next day atErfiiit^H repented of his vow, for he knew hot eH would grieve his father ; but his life __B| been spared; he believed tiat 4.H5 vow had been heard and regl&ijH in heaven; and without wait_-_;_|B his resolution to be shaken, he sosaH and found admittance in the AugMaM Monastery in the town. His career -J_-Bk to had been so brilliant that the blS^^B had formed the brightest hopes f_tj__Jß He was bitterly disappointed, '^-jBBP perhaps, more of monks and monkdo_wHj his son. He consented with a soij^uH porhaps hoping that a year's eijißßl and the discipline of the novitiale«H| cure a momentary folly. Thc Aueu_aM|K owned no property ; thoy lived c£j__f__\y, l and the young Martin, to break.-hJraHH was sot to the lowest drudgery in ___-fiffl and was sent about the town to beg. L__Rm however, flung himself with enthu_iam.fß to the severest penances. He f^wfl prayed, ho lay on thc stones, he diitasHj his spiritual adviser with tho ref___mW_BH|| his confessions. The common au_t__HH failing, he took to hair B_umfl^| whips, and the brethren supposed) _____ thoy had a growing saint a_a9 them. To himself these resources an»M Hothing. The temper which ho hoptfflH drive out of himself clung to him in .pi-flj all prescribed remedies. But still.bj^H sevorcd ; tho novitiate ended, and beilH tho vows and becamo full monk aridl_-Hyi His father attended the ceremony, _olH| in no pleasant humour. "Yon IfolHf men," he said at the convent dtaner,. JljMg! you never read that a man should obtj )■ father and mother?" TheyVtoMHß his son had received a call frota_M[^ " Fray God," the old man answered, "BH not a trick of the devil. Im^ jIl^E drink with you, but I would glaftl Two years passed away. cupied himself with eagerly s^fflßßlK Bible, but his reading would n^P*s|HJ|il restless conscientiousness. 6|gl^H General of the Order, Father S(a«m wise, open-minded man, saw him, wl confessions, and understood ;__,-§§■ perceived that his mind wai preyingMßp itself, and that he required to be tdjMßft of himself by active employment J Bra The Elector Frederick, _Wj_j|B| Wise, as distinguished from his nephew, had lately founded a -&h»B||| at Wittenberg, a considerable MmBB Elbe. The Augustinians had an t 'Sjßgl house in Wittenberg and Stauj»j|||«|S f erred Luther thither to teach __e_.og«p Luther was now twenty-five, &-}Bl|iH|} a gap of two years in his history. ' ..jjHl havo observed and thought mu?^SSjP§ years, or the tinder would bcmbmjMbj been kindled by the sparks whichMlßl it at the end of them. •The air of fIjJBP was growing thick with symptoms of_pj After long sleep men were bsg-Wjfl thinkforthemselves, and._lectrieflMi^^ playing , about—sheet light_44^!^^^H| strange and menacing. professed to be, and 1-uijrion aslfc *ffj|p| bodied in the lives of church ._W»I and priests and friars, wereinS-SBliSffig trast, and the silence with, ,msb___B-__. difference had been long ohserveajMfflKf broken by malicious nio_-.rMM|fK!;| " Epistola. Obscurorum Vivoni__i^H|K

In 1511, business of theaAl Order requiring that two of the.Oiw the Electorate should be t___\ Luther was chosen, with another! the commission. There were aw in those days, or at least none foi monks. He walked, and wwig upon the journey, being fed anM religious houses upon the way. El of hope that in Rome at least, in|

STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT, NOVEMBER 10, 1883

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