I Slipped Aside A Panel In The Curious Old Windows, And Looked Down
Into The Court Surrounded By The University Buildings.
I fancied the
old times when students, with their scholastic caps and books, were
momently passing and repassing.
I thought of the stir there was here
when the pope's bull against Luther came out, and of the pattering of
feet and commotion there were in this court, when Luther sallied out
to burn the pope's bull under the oak, just beyond the city wall near
by. The students thought it good fun; students are always progressive;
they admired the old boy for his spirit; they threw up caps and
shouted, and went out to see the ceremony with a will. Philip
Melanchthon wondered if brother Martin was not going a little too
fast, but hoped it would be overruled, and that all would be for the
best! So, coming out, I looked longingly beyond the city gate, and
wanted to go to the place of the oak tree, where the ceremony was
performed, but the party had gone on.
[Illustration: _of Melanchthon's house._]
Coming back, I made a pause opposite the house on which is seen the
inscription, "Here Melanchthon lived, labored, and died." A very good
house it was, too, in its day; in architecture it was not unlike this.
I went across the street to take a good look at it; then I came over,
and as the great arched door stood open, I took the liberty of walking
in.
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