the Earls of Lennox and Argyle, both perished on the field.

The English left then joined in the attack on the Scottish centre, and King James had to meet the attack on three sides, and the battle was virtually lost. Now was the time that the nobles and the meanest subjects of the doomed prince showed their valour and their attachment to his person. Nor did they cease fighting when James fell with an English arrow sticking in his body, and with a mortal wound from an English bill on his head, they closed round the body, which fell within a spear's length of Surrey, defending it dead as obstinately as they had defended it when living. Night closed upon the carnage and separated the combatants.

Surrey was for a while uncertain of the victory; but during the night his scouts brought him intelligence that the Scots were in full retreat towards their own country, and that none remained on the field; "upon which the earl thanked God with humble heart."

It is quite certain that Surrey had suffered dreadfully in this stern conflict, and that he had no inclination whatever to try the fords of the Tweed, and the moors and morasses beyond it. The loss of the Scots, according to the most moderate calculation, amounted to 8000 or 9000 men; but in this number were included the very prime of their nobility, gentry, and even clergy. Besides the king and his natural son, Alexander Stuart, Archbishop of St. Andrews, who had studied abroad and received instruction from Erasmus, there were slain twelve earls -Crawford, Montrose, Lennox, Argyle, Errol, Athole, Morton, Cassilis, Bothwell, Rothes, Caithness, and Glencairn: to these must be added fifteen lords and chiefs of clans.

Some families of the gentle blood of Scotland lost all

their male members that were of an age capable of bearing arms. The body of the king was found by Lord Dacre among a heap of dead. Dacre, who had known him well, recognized it, though it was disfigured by many wounds, and it was afterwards identified by James' chancellor, Sir William Scott, by Sir John Forman, and some other prisoners. The body was conveyed to Berwick, where it was embalmed and wrapped in sheets of lead,

Sword, Dagger, and Ring of James IV.

and it was then sent secretly, among other packages, to Newcastle. From Newcastle the Earl of Surrey took it with him to London, and then placed it in the monastery of Shene, near Richmond. Meanwhile, in Scotland, the people were loath to believe that their king was dead; and some of the Scots continued to believe that he had gone on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land to pray for the souls of his slaughtered nobles, and to pass the rest of his life in devotion and penitence. By these romantic believers it was particularly objected to the English, that they could never show the token of the iron belt which James constantly wore round his body in penance for his youthful rebellion and the death of his father: but the English produced the unfortunate monarch's sword and

dagger, and a turquoise ring (supposed to have been sent him by the Queen of France), which are still preserved in the Heralds' College, London; and no rational doubt can be entertained that James perished at Flodden Field.

LUTHER.-PART I.

Martin Luther, whose wonderful teaching changed the face of Europe, belonged to the humblest ranks of society. He tells us himself: "I am the son of a peasant; my father, my grandfather, my great-grandfather were all mere peasants. How I astonished everybody when I turned monk! After that I got pulling the pope about by the hair of his head, and I married a runaway nun. Who could have told any one beforehand these things were about to happen?"

He was born in 1483 in the village of Eisleben, in Saxony. His father was a miner, and was so poor that he found it hard to support his family. But he loved his children, and sent them to school, and at six years of age little Martin could read and write with ease. His parents, though kind, were strict, and he mentions that one day, for merely stealing a hazel-nut, his mother beat him till the blood flowed. At the age of seventeen he was entered at the University of Erfurt, and in the convent library he passed his happiest hours. The art of printing had lately been discovered, and the monastery of Erfurt had purchased at heavy cost several Latin Bibles. When first Luther opened one of these his eye fell with inexpressible delight upon the history of Hannah and her son Samuel. "Oh, God!" he murmured, "could I have one of these books I would ask no other worldly

treasure." A great revolution took place in his soul. He conceived a distaste for the study of the law, to which his father had wished him to devote himself. He was now twenty, and deep study had worn him. He fell ill. An old priest came to confess him. "Come, my son," said the good priest to him, "courage, courage; you will not die of this sickness. God has a great destiny in store for you. He will make a man of you, and you will live to console others in your turn; for God loves those whom he chastens."

Luther, however, loved other things besides theology. He was very fond of music. "Music," he said, "is the art of the prophets; it is the only other art which, like theology, can calm the agitations of the soul and put the devil to flight." He played both the guitar and the flute. He had, moreover, a taste for mechanics, and could turn a lathe skilfully.

In 1505 one of Luther's young friends was killed at his side by a stroke of lightning. He sent forth a cry at the terrible spectacle; that cry was a vow to St. Anne that he would become a monk if he were himself spared. A fortnight after he entered the Augustine monastery at Erfurt. His monastic life was that of a thorough hermit. "If," says he, "Augustine went straight to heaven from the walls of an abbey, I, too, ought to do so. I fasted, I watched, I mortified, till I absolutely made myself ill." At times he would leave the monastery at daybreak, proceed into the country, and at the foot of some tree preach the word of God to the shepherds. Then he would go to sleep, lulled by their simple minstrelsy.

In 1510 Luther was sent by the monastery to Rome to adjust some affairs of the convent. In Italy he saw much which excited his wonder. On reaching Rome he pro

ceeded to the convent of his order.

"On arriving I fell upon my knees, raised my hands to heaven, and exclaimed, Hail, holy Rome! made holy by the blood of the martyrs which has been spilt here." He hastened to view the sacred places, saw all, believed all. He soon perceived, however, that he was the only person who did believe; Christianity seemed totally forgotten in this capital of the Christian world.

The pope was no longer the scandalous Alexander VI but the warlike Julius II. The father of the faithful breathed nothing but blood and ruin, and nothing was thought of at Rome but the war against the French. If our poor German took refuge in the churches he had not even the consolation of a good mass. The Roman priest despatched the divine service with such celerity, that before Luther had got through the gospel, the minister said to him, "Begone, it is finished." He saw and heard other things much worse, and he quitted Rome at the end of a fortnight. "I would not," he afterwards said, "I would not for a hundred thousand florins have missed seeing Rome. I should have always felt an uneasy doubt whether I was not, after all, doing injustice to the pope. As it is, I am quite satisfied on the point."

Soon after his return from Italy Luther was appointed professor of philosophy in the new university of Wittemberg. A little later he was named town preacher, and he feared he should not be equal to the task. His fears were mistaken. He preached by turns in his monastery, in the royal chapel, and in the collegiate church, and his success was of the most marked description.

A new pope was now reigning in Rome. Julius II. had been succeeded by Leo X. This youthful pope was a thorough man of the world, a man of pleasure, a man of letters, a man of business. His aim was to make the