"In the meantime," he writes, "I intend to translate the New Testament into our mother tongue, as our people wish. O that every city had its own translator, so that this book might be in the hands and hearts of every one! . . . . I have taken upon myself a burden which surpasses my strength. Now only I perceive what a translation means, and why hitherto no one has ventured to put his name to one. It is to be hoped that we may give to our Germany a better trauslation than the Latins possess. It is a great work, well worthy that we should all labor thereat."

Luther dates his letters, From the region of the clouds; From the region of the birds; or else, From amidst the birds singing sweetly on the branches, and lauding God day and night, with all their strength; or again, From the mountain; From the Island of Patmos. It is from this, his wilderness, (ex eremo meâ,) that he pours forth in his sad and eloquent letters the thoughts which crowd upon him in his solitude. "What art thou doing at this moment, my Philip?" he says to Melancthon; "art thou not praying for me? For my part, seated in contemplation the live-long day, I figure to myself the image of the Church, while the words of the eighty-ninth Psalm are ever present to me, Nunquid vane constituisti omnes filios hominum? Wherefore hast thou made all men in vain?' God! what a horrible spectre of God's wrath is this abominable reign of the antichrist of Rome! I hate the hardness of my heart which does not dissolve in torrents of tears, mourning over the sons of my murdered people. Not one is found to rise up, take his stand on God's side, or make himself a rampart unto the house of Israel, in this last day of wrath? O, papal reign, worthy of the lees of ages! God have mercy upon us!" (May 12th.)

BELOW, LUTHER'S DEPARTURE ON HORSEBACK FROM

THE WARTBURG.

To the left above, Luther and the Swiss students in

the inn called the Black Bear, at Jena. To the right, Luther in the circle of his Wittemberg friends recognized on their entrance by the Swiss students. THE spiritual knight left his Patmos armed with his best weapon,-his Bible. The news of the disturbances and confusion at Wittemberg bereft him of all peace in his solicitude.

"I come," he wrote to his prince, "to

Wittemberg under a much higher protection than that of the elector. In this business the sword neither can nor ought to assist. God alone must here work without human care or interference: therefore he who hath most faith will in this matter protect most."

In this confidence he had begun his journey; and thoughts like these occupied his mind most likely when, at Jena, in the inn called the Black Bear, he opened his heart so cheerfully and affectionately to the two Swiss students, Johannes Kessler and Rütiner, from St. Gall.

One of them, Kessler, has described this meeting: "In the sitting-room we found a man sitting alone at a table, a little book lying before him: he greeted us kindly, and called us forward to sit beside him at the table; he offered us drink, which we could not refuse; but we did not imagine he was other than a horseman, who sat there dressed according to the custom of the country in a red cap, simple breeches and jacket, a sword at his side, holding with his right hand the pommel of the sword, with the other his book. And we asked him, 'Master, can you tell us whether Martin Luther be at this time at Wittemberg, or at which place he may be found?' He replied, 'I am well informed that Luther is not at this time at Wittemberg; but he is soon to be there. Philip Melancthon is there, however; he teaches Greek, and Hebrew also, both which languages I would truly recommend you to study, for they are necessary for understanding the Scriptures.'

A few days later these Swiss men meet the same horseman at Wittemberg, at the house of their countryman, Dr. H. Schurf, by the side of Melancthon. "When we

were called into the rom," relates Kessler, "behold, we find Martin, as we had seen him at Jena, with Melancthon, Justus Jonas, Nicolaus Arnsdorf, and Dr. Schurf, all telling him what has happened at Wittemberg during his absence. He greets us smilingly, points with his finger, and says, 'This is the Philip Melancthon of whom I spoke unto you."

LUTHER CHECKS THE DESTRUCTION OF THF MAGES OF SAINTS, 1522.

A NEW epoch, a yet more severe struggle, was now to begin for Luther. He had to prove to the world whether he could main

tain the idea which animated him, even against the false deductions which others had drawn from it; whether he could meet and check the divisions among those who had hitherto been his adherents. From the seed of his doctrine "of the liberty of the Christian," there threatened to shoot up a harvest of the wildest fanaticism, if he should not root it out at the right moment. Already had Karlstadt and the enthusiasts of Zwickau begun to distract, by their iconoclastic mischief, the young community at Wittemberg.

But Luther interfered, and preserved the liberty of the gospel. "Do not change liberty into compulsion," Machet nur nicht aus dem Frei sein ein Muss sein, he exclaimed, "that ye may not have to render an account of those whom you have led astray by your liberty without love." "As I cannot pour faith into the heart, I neither can nor ought to force or compel

any one to believe; for God only can do this, who alone can communicate life to the hearts of men. We are to preach the word; but the result must be as God pleases. Nothing can come of force and command, but pretence, outward show, and the aping of religion.

"Let us first of all seek to move the heart: wherever the heart and the mind of all are not moved, there leave it to God; ye cannot do any good. But if ye will carry out such base precepts, I will recant all I have written and preached; I will not stand by you. The Word hath created heaven and earth and all things; that Word must do it, and not poor sinners like ourselves."

The artist makes the soothing power of Luther's preaching strikingly evident, by representing him in the midst of the iconoclasts, arresting their wild proceedings.

THE

HE preparations being made for

my departure southward, I wiped my spectacles, mounted a drochski, and ordered a drive once more among the principal public edifices- my final adieu to them. The wide streets, the magnificent palaces, the huge and even fantastic churches, with their colored domes and gilt-tipped arrowy

spires, the varied populace and variegated costumes-all formed a phantasmagoric picture amidst which I was whirled about by my isvoshtschick, until it almost seemed the illusion of a dream. But, alas! there are always downright realities to break in upon our finest reveries. The traveler, courteous reader, has to deal somewhat in money--in cash. I assure you it is a real matter of fact, however dubious it may seem. In Russia, especially, is it a fact. About to depart, I had to bethink myself of my money-belt, and having some preparatory financial transactions to look after, I

myself of my departure, grunted a profound guttural to my driver, (as much like his own as possible,) and ordered him to the Bourse and the Custom House.

I found nothing in my own fiscal matters to entertain you with, but I soon saw that I had passed by, in former observations, one of the most interesting features of this marvelous metropolis, and now it was too late for more than a glance at it. The

the Neva. The Russian word biesha, which answers to our Exchange, is applied to all places of business assemblage, even to the squares where hackney coaches have their position. If you wish to see the Exchange, properly speaking, you must add the word Hollandaise, for it is thus distinguished in St. Petersburgh, probably because the position it occupies was where the first Dutch merchants settled, when

they came into the country, by the invitation of Peter, at the beginning of the eighteenth century. It has one of the finest situations in St. Petersburgh, for it stands quite isolated, upon a vast circle formed by massive granite quays. A colossal group of statuary ornaments the principal front, in which Neptune is the most conspicuous figure. It is surrounded on all sides with immense Doric columns, forty-four in number, supporting the roof. At two points of the elevation, presenting magnificent views, stand two columns of immense height, adorned with marine designs in iron, surmounted with colossal vases, which are filled with inflammable substances, and must present a splendid appearance at the public illuminations.

The interior is divided into a large hall, and eight smaller apartments for different purposes. There is nothing remarkable about the former, save its colossal dimensions, and an altar at its furthest extremity, upon which tapers are constantly burning. The Russian merchants always bow their heads to it upon entering the building, and frequently prostrate themselves before it, to implore the protection of the saints in their business enterprises. What a sight! thought I to myself. Was it really an altar to Mammon? That depends upon the heart! Were these innumerable hearts-beating with the love and calculations of gain-were they more eager for the sanctification than for the success of their schemes? A temple or an altar is what the mind makes it, and

this shrine is one of idolatry, if any on earth is.

The habitual frequenters of the Exchange are not distinguished by their elegance; the Polish Jews, Tartars, and Bokharians who crowd it, certainly have neither the language, manners, nor exterior of our custom-house officers. They are a very interesting study, however, for those who know how to interpret their silent pantomime. Prodigious money operations take place here. What is spoken aloud is of little importance, but the whispered words within these walls will awaken echoes in the most distant parts of the globe.

But our devoirs having been paid-our purse replenished-let us away from this Pandemonium of Mammon-away to the southward! I traveled by the mail-post or diligence from St. Petersburgh to the ancient capital of the empire, preferring it to the railroad, because I wished to see the country more deliberately. I found this mode of conveyance rapid, comfortable, and cheap. The route between the two cities is barren and uninteresting; the low, sandy level is diversified occasionally by green fields, thickets of ferns or firs, a village or a marsh. No scene impresses itself upon your memory: the verdure and fine coloring of the south are utterly wanting; and the expanse before you fails to give the ideas of sublimity which are so frequently remarked in the prairie scenery of America, for the least obstacle, a house or tree, conceals miles