ct upon it. This poor Frau Luther, she had gone
with her husband to make her small merchandisings; perhaps to sell the
lock of yarn she had been spinning, to buy the small winter-necessaries
for her narrow hut or household; in the whole world, that day, there was
not a more entirely unimportant-looking pair of people than this Miner
and his Wife. And yet what were all Emperors, Popes and Potentates, in
comparison? There was born here, once more, a Mighty Man; whose light
was to flame as the beacon over long centuries and epochs of the world;
the whole world and its history was waiting for this man. It is strange,
it is great. It leads us back to another Birth-hour, in a still meaner
environment, Eighteen Hundred years ago,--of which it is fit that we
_say_ nothing, that we think only in silence; for what words are there!
The Age of Miracles past? The Age of Miracles is forever here--!

I find it altogether suitable to Luther's function in this Earth, and
doubtless wisely ordered to that end by the Providence presiding over
him and us and all things, that he was born poor, and brought up poor,
one of the poorest of men. He had to beg, as the school-children
in those times did; singing for alms and bread, from door to door.
Hardship, rigorous Necessity was the poor boy's companion; no man nor no
thing would put on a false face to flatter Martin Luther. Among things,
not among the shows of things, had he to grow. A boy of rude figure, yet
with weak health, with his large greedy soul, full of all faculty and
sensibility, he suffered greatly. But it was his task to get acquainted
with _realities_, and keep acquainted with them, at whatever cost: his
task was to bring the whole world back to reality, for it had dwelt too
long with semblance! A youth nursed up in wintry whirlwinds, in desolate
darkness and difficulty, that he may step forth at last from his stormy
Scandinavia, strong as a true man, as a god: a Christian Odin,--a right
Thor once more, with his thunder-hammer, to smite asunder ugly enough
_Jotuns_ and Giant-monsters!

Perhaps the turning incident of his life, we may fancy, was that death
of his friend Alexis, by lightning, at the gate of Erfurt. Luther had
struggled up through boyhood, better and worse; displaying, in spite
of all hindrances, the largest intellect, eager to learn: his father
judging doubtless that he might promote himself in the world, set him
upon the study of Law. This was the path to rise; Lu