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Golden Words for Busy People.
JOHN BACON, THE ARTIST.

development of extravagance in the use JOHN BACON was an eminent English

of dress. There is probably at this Sculptor. Hundreds of thousands who present time an amount of money spent have visited Westminster Abbey have upon unnecessary clothing, such as would gazed with admiration upon the fruits of have appeared utterly preposterous in the his artistic skill, in the famous monument eyes of people who lived thirty or forty of Lord Chatham; and his name and years ago.—T. M. Morris. honour have been celebrated by the poet Cowper, who says of him that he

GOD OUR REFUGE. Gives more than female beauty to a stone,

A heathen could say, when a bird And Chatham's eloquence to marble lips." (scared by a hawk) flew into his bosom John Bacon lived and died in the faith for refuge, “I will not kill thee, nor of the Christian religion; and wishing to betray thee to thine enemy, seeing thou speak his testimony for Christ even in fliest to me for sanctuary.” Much less death, he ordered that the following in.

will God either slay or give up the soul scription should be written on his tablet : that takes sanctuary in His name.“What I was as an artist seemed to be Gurnall. of some importance while I lived; but what I really was as

believer in Christ THE DIVINE PROVIDENCE IN SLEEP. Jesus is the only thing of real importance I think it is referable only to a superto me now.”—John Bate:

intending and watchful Providence, that CHRIST AT THE DOOR OF THE HEART.

we are not hurried into the most pernicious We should deem it a strange thing

actions, when our imagination is heated

and our reason stupified by dreams. if some mighty and richly-apparelled

Will the candid reader excuse me if I monarch were seen standing, and, with

add a short story, or rather a matter of gentle patience, knocking at the door of

fact, suitable to this remark? Two some peasant's cottage, waiting uncom.

persons, who had been hunting together plainingly till he should be admitted. But how much stranger is it to see Christ,

in the day, slept together the following the angel's Lord and the sinner's friend,

night. One of them was renewing the

pursuit in his dream ; and having run standing and waiting, and knocking with

the whole circle of the chase, came at gentle patient grace at the closed and

last to the fall of the stag. Upon this he barred door of man's heart. Yet it is so

cried out with a determined ardour, “I'll beyond all contradiction, for these are

kill him," and immediately feels for the the very words of Christ himself, “Behold

knife which he carried in his pocket. His I stand at the door and knock."-Sermons

companion, happening to awake and for all classes, by T. M. Morris.

observing what passed, leaped from the MODERN FASHIONS.

bed. Being secure from danger, and the I feel that there is need for very plain moon shining in the room, he stood to speaking on this point, and it is very view the event; when to his inexpressible desirable that the voice of Christianity surprise, the infatuated sportsman gave should be heard from the pulpits of this several deadly stabs in the very place land; for it is to be feared that the where, a moment before, the throat and personal influence of professing Christians life of his friend lay! This I mention as does not, in this matter, very materially a proof that nothing hinders us, even check or rebuke the exorbitancy of the from being assassins of others, or murderers world's fashion. During the last few of ourselves, amidst the mad sallies of years there has been, not in one class sleep, only the prevailing care of our only, but in all classes, a very large heavenly Father.-Hervey.

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Christ, and thou shalt be saved." You may be rich as Croesus, or poor as Lazarus; you may be vile aş Manasseh, bitter and prejudiced as Saul of Tarsus, or like Nathanael, an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no guile; but, if saved at all, you must be saved in the same way. You must knock at the same door ; you must cross the same threshold; you must approach as a suppliant the same throne of grace; you must touch in faith the same extended sceptre; you must confide your soul, sin burdened and sin stained, to the care and cleansing of the same Saviour.-T. M. Morris.

THE NIGHTINGALE's Song Are we charmed with the nightingale's song? Do we wish to have it nearer and hear it oftener ? Let us seek a renewed heart, and a resigned will; a conscience that whispers peace, and passions that are tuned by grace. Then shall we never want a melody in our own breasts, far more musically pleasing than sweet Philomela's sweetest strains.--Hervey.

RAIMENT OF NEEDLEWORK. Holiness is the raiment of needlework, in which, Christian, thou art to be brought unto thy King and Husband. Wherefore is the wedding day put off so long, but because this garment is so long making ? When this is once wrought, and thou ready dressed, then the joyful day comes. “The marriage of the Lamb is come, and His wife hath made herself ready." Rev. xix. 7.-Gurnall.

THE LORD IS MY GOD. A certain noble person would have an inscription put upon his tomb, without any further enlargement, to this effect : "That he had been a servant to Queen Elizabeth, counsellor to King James, and friend to Sir Philip Sidney." By this it appears that he would have all ages know whose servant, counsellor, and friend he had been. In like manner should every good and pious soul declare to the present, and to all future ages, that the Lord is his God.Howe.

BUT ONE WAY. If men are to be saved at all, whether rich or poor, they can only be saved in one way-by the exercise of faithsimple childlike faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, who is the one Saviour “able to save to the uttermost all that come unto God by him." If a king from his throne says, “What must I do to be saved ?" --if a prisoner from his dungeon cries, “What must I do to be saved?”—the same answer in each case must be returned: “ Believe on the Lord Jesus

THE HERMITS' QUARREL. Two old men lived in the same cell, and had never disagreed. Said one to the other, “ Let us have just one quarrel, like other men.” Quoth the other, “I do not know what a quarrel is like." Quoth the first, “Here I put a brick between us, and say that it is mine, and you say it is not mine; and over that let us have a contention and squabble.” But when they put the brick between them, and one said, “It is mine," the other said, “I hope it is mine.” And when the first said, “It is mine, it is not yours," he answered, “ If it is yours, take it.” So they could not find out how to have a quarrel.-The Sunday Library, part ii.

REVENGE. A brother being injured by another, came to Abbot Sidonius, told his story, and said, “I wish to avenge myself, father.” The abbot begged him to leave vengeance to God: but when he refused, said, “ Then let us pray." Whereon the old man rose, and said, “God, thou art not necessary to us any longer, that thou shouldest be careful of us : for we, as this brother says, both will and can avenge ourselves.” At which that brother fell at his feet, and begged pardon, promising never to strive with his enemy.-The. Sunday Library, part ii.

Pages for our young friends.

THE MASSACRE OF ST. BARTHOLOMEW.

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MR. STANTON was sitting one stormy encourage in you a love of the horrible, evening in December by the library fire, which is a vulgar and unhealthy taste. with his two daughters, Caroline and Alice. But you must needs become acquainted The gas was not lighted, for Mr. Stanton with many terrible events, if you are not had been busy all day, and felt the half- to remain wholly ignorant of the history darkness of the room, as he lay back in of this sin-blighted world.” his easy chair, pleasant and restful. Papa,” said Alice, who had been lookCaroline's fingers were busy knitting, for ing very thoughtful, "I do not exactly which work fire-light was sufficient, while like hearing horrible things, and yet I Alice sat on a low seat near her father, have some kind of pleasure in it. I won. looking dreamily into the fire.

der is it wrong ?” “Papa, do you remember,” said Carrie, Yes, my dear, we do undeniably find after silence had lasted some time, “ you a certain pleasure in tales of terror and promised some day to tell us a true story. sorrow. This pleasure has been variously You promised as long ago as last summer,

accounted for. We will not discuss the when we were by the sea side. Please, subject now; but of this be assured, if papa, could you tell it now ?”

the feeling be not born of evil, it will lead “Really, dear,” said Mr. Stanton, “I to evil when unwisely indulged.” do not recollect what story it was, or, in- No, papa, we won't discuss the feeling deed, anything about the promise.” now, but wisely indulge it. And now I

“I remember,” said Alice; “I remem. know what the story is you have to tell,” ber quite well. We were sitting in a little said Carrie, who was bending over the bay all through the quietest of quiet even- fire, consulting by its light a pocket almaings, till long after sundown; there was not The massacre of St. Bartholomew. a cloud in the sky, or one breath of wind, I just know it was a massacre of Protest. and nothing moving but the little waves ants by Roman Catholics, that it happened that just rippled up softly, as if afraid to in France, and in the reign of our Queen make a noise. And when Carrie asked Elizabeth. That is all I know; I should for a story, you inquired what day of the like to know more." month it was, and she told you, I think, “In Elizabeth's reign, then, it hapthe twenty-fourth of August; and then pened,” Alice said, pondering. “Oh, dear! you said you could tell a true tale of what I wish I could recollect dates. I can't happened once, long ago, on that very day, remember when her reign began, nor only it was a terrible story, not suiting when it ended.” the still, sweet evening."

“It commenced A.D. 1558, ended 1603," I recollect now," said her father.

said Carrie. “And therefore extended “Well, papa, I am sure this evening is nearly over the latter half of the sixteenth not too still,” said Carrie, as a gust of century,” rejoined Mr. Stanton, during wind rushed and moaned round the house, which period Europe was agitated by the followed by a dash of rain against the contest going on between the Roman window.

Catholic and the Protestant faiths.: Eng. Suppose I say this evening is too land and great part of Germany had stormy. You will lay awake all night embraced the principles of the Reforma. listening to the wind, and haunted by the tion. In France the Roman Catholic faith tale of terror.”

continued the religion of the state, and of “Oh, no,” said Carrie, “I'm not ner. the great majority of the people; yet the vous ; I always go to sleep, and I like number of Protestants continually in. horrible stories."

creased, and many persons of rank and “My dear, I should be very sorry to influence declared in their favour. A very

war.

imperfect toleration would have been gladly accepted by the French Protest. ants, or Huguenots as they were called but, instead of this being accorded them, they were harassed by bitter unrelenting persecution, even to imprisonment and death. At length, on the death of Francis II., in 1560, and the accession of Charles IX., the Protestants took up arms in their own defence, and France groaned under all the unspeakable miseries of civil

Charles was only twelve years old when he became king, and the government devolved on his mother, Catherine de Médicis, than whom the whole page of history tells of no more utterly debased and hateful woman. The (uguenot army, strengthened by troops from Eng. land and other Protestant countries, was led by the Prince of Condé, Admiral Coligni, and the heroic Jeanne d'Albret, Queen of Navarre, mother of Henry of Navarre, afterwards Henry IV. of France. In a desperate battle, fought at Jarnac, the Prince de Condé was killed and the Protestants defeated.

Not two years later, in 1569, another terrible battle was fought at Moncontour, and again the Pro. testants were defeated. Then the tide of fortune turned, and the Protestants gained some advantage.' It seems likely that now the idea of ridding herself of the Protestants, by another method than that of open war, presented itself to the hellish mind of Catherine. It was not easy to subdue them in fair fight, might they not be exterminated by a general massacre ? But before this could be done, their reig allies must leave the country, and the French Protestants themselves be induced to disband their forces, and mingle trustfully with their Catholio fellow-countrymen. Terms of peace were accordingly offered, more favourable than any hitherto proposed. They were gladly accepted by the Huguenots. Sooner than fall back into these disturbances,' said Coligni, ‘I would choose to die à thousand deaths, and be dragged through the streets of Paris.' This treaty was signed at St. Germaine-en-Laye, August 8th, 1570. The allies left, the army separated, and peace seemed restored. Still suspicion dwelt in the minds of some, and the Pro

testant nobility very generally absented themselves from court. If her plot was to be fully successful, Catherine must devise some plan to increase the confidence of the Protestants, and, if possible, to con. centrate their leaders at Paris. With unut. terable heartlessness and perfidy, Catherine determined to allure her Protestant subjects to destruction, by giving in marriage her own young daughter, Marguerite, to Henry of Navarre. This union, when proposed, was eagerly advocated by the Protestants, who believed it would increase their influence, and ensure the continuance of peace. Henry himself desired it, as a splendid alliance, and as increasing his prospect of attaining the crown of France, to which he aspired. His noble-minded mother, Jeanne d'Albret, alone was reluctant, but at length her consent was gained."

“Did Henry love Marguerite, papa ?" asked Alice.

“Nay, my little daughter; the high places of the earth are somewhat cold. Among kings and princes marriage is very generally rather a matter of state policy than of affection. And, indeed, affection had been thrown away on Marguerite, who, though young and beautiful, was utterly wicked. As Catherine intended, the Protestant nobles crowded to Paris, that they might grace by their presence the nuptials of their chief. The Queen of Navarre arrived before her son ; immediately on her entrance she was taken ill, and in nine days died. Probably she was poisoned, and this was the first act in the tragedy. Great grief was professed by Catherine and Charles on the death of Jeanne, and the wedding of her son, now king of Navarre, was deferred for a time. At length August the 17th was fixed for the marriage, and August the 24th for the massacre. The ceremony was performed in front of the cathedral of Notre Dame, with all imaginable pomp and splendour, in the dazzled eyes of thousands. Banquets, balls, and martial pageants, filled up the succeeding days. During these days of festivity, as the Admiral Coligni was walking through the streets, he was fired on from a window, and carried wounded to his lodgings. Some Protestants, alarmed, left the city; the majority remained, and continued to join in the brilliant entertainments. On the evening of the 23rd, Romanist and Protestant nobles mingled in the gaities of a royal banquet. As the doomed guests retired, a restlessness and concealed excitement in the city raised vague forebodings in the mind of some, others that night lay calmly down to sleep. Two o'clock was the hour appointed for the alarm bell to strike, and the work of death begin. Ca. therine was exultant, Charles paced the chamber pale and trembling, in feverish agitation. It had been determined to spare Henry. His Protestantism was judged, and rightly judged, not a matter of principle; he was to be spared, and to become a Catholic. Many of his friends were lodged in the palace; all of these were to die. Midnight had passed, one o'clock had passed. Catherine, dreading her son's resolution might fail, despatched a messenger to hasten the ringing of the bell. It was scarcely two when suddenly the bell sounded, and then, as in a moment, the subdued mysterious sounds which had troubled the night were changed into a hideous din ; the report of fire-arms, the clash of steel, the trampling of feet, shrieks, groans, yells of hate and of agony, and over all the ceaseless clang of the bells. In the palace the sumptuous apart. ments and marble halls were drenched with the blood of murdered guests. A number of Protestants rushed into the court-yard, to cast themselves upon the protection of the king. Charles, his compunction quite overcome, ordered his own guards to fall upon and slay them, while he himself stood at a window overlooking the street, and fired upon the wounded, terrified fugitives flying past.

Into the homes where but now families were sleeping in peace, burst rude soldiers, murdering young and old in their beds, casting them from the windows, or chasing them naked and bleeding through the streets.

“The Duke of Guise, to whose fit hands the arrangements of the night had been entrusted, hastened with a band of soldiers to the apartments where the Admiral Coligni was helplessly lying. A servant rushed into the sick mom, exclaiming that

the outer door had been forced and the sentinels murdered. 'Save yourselves, if you can,' said Coligni, to a few friends who were with him, 'I have long since prepared myself to die.' His friends dispersed, and the Admiral was left alone. A ruffian entered the room_"Art thou the Admiral ?' 'I am,' he replied, “and thou, young man, should'st respect my grey hairs.' A fatal wound in the breast was given. Even in that solemn moment the feelings of a soldier and a gentleman strangely prevailed; 'If I could but die, he exclaimed, by the hand of a gentleman instead of such a knave as this. Have you done it?' shouted the Duke of Guise from below. 'Yes, he is dead!' Then throw him from the window;' and the mangled remains of the noble man were cast down into the court yard, and there kicked by the inhuman Guise.

"Upon what scenes the morning sun looked after such a night is too horrible to imagine. The streets were slippery with blood ; mangled corpses lay in heaps, or hung half out of the house windows; dissevered heads were kicked in brutal merriment along the pavements."

“Oh, papa,” said Alice, “I think we have heard enough.”

“I think so too, my dear, or I might multiply the horrors of the tale. To that first peal of the bells of Paris, the bells of town after town answered; not in Paris only, death reigned that awful night. Nor with that night did the massacre cease, during a whole week it went on with more or less violence."

“How many were killed, papa, alto. gether ?” asked Caroline.

“It is impossible to say. By one writer the number is estimated at 70,000; by another, at 100,000. He who maketh in. quisition for blood alone knows. But great as were the number of victims, the work was far from being so complete as had been desired and expected. In some places the Protestants were too numerous to be safely attacked; from others many escaped on the first alarm, and safely reached Protestant countries; some owed their safety to the relentings of private friendship ; in some places obedience was refused to the king's commands. "Sire,

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