The wine was passed around, and in the intercourse with his beloved friends, Luther's inborn happy humor burst forth with irresistible charm, as though he had never in his life been sad or heavy-hearted. Towards evening other citizens of Wittenberg came out to enjoy the balmy air. Luther made them all welcome. They talked together of many things,--of the affairs of the city of Wittenberg, and of those of the kingdom of God, until it grew late, and Wolfgang came limping out from town, with warm wraps for Mistress Luther and the children, and well-meant advice to the Doctor, not to linger in the night-air. Luther readily yielded, and all returned to town together. The roses in Luther's garden were blooming gloriously, delighting not only the Doctor, but all those whom he invited into his garden, to view the wonderful works of God, and those into whose houses he sent generous nosegays of the fragrant flowers. But greater was his joy, when he saw the roses slowly appearing in little Elizabeth's cheeks. The physician, Augustin Schurf, smiled sadly when he saw the father's fond delusion,--he knew that under the roses death was at work. Soon the little face grew pale again, and with hearts doubly saddened by disappointed hope, the parents stood beside their dying child, and tasted the bitterness of death. They prayed for its life, but God said: "Give me the child." As the last struggle was drawing near, Luther, with a supreme effort of renunciation, exclaimed: "Lord, Thy will be done!" Katharine cried aloud: "O dear Father, let this cup pass from us. It is so bitter, methinks I cannot drink it." When Luther saw his wife's grief, tears burst from the strong man's eyes and he wept like a child. This roused Katharine from her sorrow, and seeing her husband's pain, she strove to comfort him. And Luther, having received, was again able to give. He walked behind the little coffin, as it was carried to the grave, accompanied by weeping friends, and there spoke words of comfort to all present. Here he again experienced, more fully than ever, how great a treasure is the precious Word of God, which is most powerful and life-giving, when the soul is passing through darkness and sorrow. Wolfgang made a little cross of wood, which he set upon the grave, and Luther wrote upon it: "_Hic dormit Elisabeth, filiola Martini Lutheri, Anno 1528._" "Here sleeps Elizabeth, Martin Luther's little daughter." * * * * * * * * * * It was long, before Katharine's loving heart could cast aside its sorrow. Yet she was made acquainted with one of the blessings of affliction, namely, the hearty sympathy and affection of the members of her household. Her servants, as well as the boarders, were eager to serve her, as though each one, as far as in him lay, desired to comfort the bereaved mother, and Katharine was deeply grateful for their loving service.