seize him; he blenched beneath her still, fixed gaze, closed his knife, and went out. At a single spring she reached the door, shot the bolt with a convulsive rapidity, and fell senseless on the floor. When she recovered, she recognised her husband's wellknown step at the door, and heard him calling out in surprise at finding it fastened. Rising, she admitted him, and, in tones tremulous with agitation and gratitude, told him of her danger and deliverance.

have hurried the individual away; or some other power of nature may have hastened to shelter or defend him-and all by a special arrangement intended by God from the very beginning." It is, then, either ignorance or perverse misrepresentation on the part of the deniers of Providence to charge those who believe it with expecting continued miracles. The distinction between the two is broad and clear. The age of miracles is past-the age of Providence continues. "This is, in fact," says Isaac Taylor," the great miracle of Providencethat no miracles are needed to accomplish its purposes."

AN EPISODE IN THE REIGN OF
LOUIS XV.

WHEN Louis XV, king of France, exclaimed, "After
me, the flood," he only prophesied too truly. He
was quick-sighted enough to perceive that the
dissolution of French society could not long be ar-
rested; and he was sufficiently selfish to remain
satisfied, provided matters lasted as long as himself

The above incidents, illustrative of the power of prayer to sustain the mind in the most critical emergencies, are extracted from a little work, just published, entitled "REMARKABLE ESCAPES FROM PERIL;" in which is gathered together, and presented under appropriate headings, an array of examples of divine interposition, in answer to the prayer of faith, that cannot fail to convince any candid mind of the existence of an ever-watching and ever-working Providence. If any of our readers are troubled with sceptical misgivings upon a subject of such vital importance to all who are obliged to engage in the great battle of life, we earnestly press them to give this work a thought-in the state in which he had found them. The ful perusal. And as a proof that it advocates no fanatical views upon the doctrine of divine Providence, irreconcileable with the deductions of science and the teachings of enlightened philosophy, we subjoin the following judicious remarks on the principle and mode in which providential interpositions on our behalf are effected.

It is not, says the writer, by miraculous intervention, not by a subversion of the laws of nature, not by a dissolution of the connexion between cause and effect; but by the control and superintendence of natural agencies and general laws, adapting them to special emergencies and individual cases. The opponents of the doctrine of Providence have generally misconceived or misrepresented this fact. Thus Pope writes:

we,

"Think like some weak prince, the Eternal Cause
Prone for his favourites to reverse his laws?
Shall burning Etna, if a sage requires,
Forget to thunder, or recall his fires ?
When the loose mountain trembles from on high,
Shall gravitation cease if you go by ?"

We do not think the Eternal to be "altogether
such an one as ourselves," and do not expect him
to reverse his laws for our sakes. If the saint or
the sage recklessly violates the laws of nature, or,
rather, the laws of God in nature, the insulted
laws will avenge themselves in his destruction.
Even the Eternal Son would not tempt the Lord
by casting himself down from the pinnacle of the
temple. Nevertheless, the ancient promise stands
good-"1
-"He shall give his angels charge over thee,
to keep thee in all thy ways." That is to say, we
may expect protection in the path of duty. If, in
obedience to the will of God, we have to encounter
imminent perils, we may hope for signal and pro-
vidential deliverances; and that not through the
powers of nature disobeying their own laws, but
through other powers in nature opportunely inter-
posing to stop, to turn aside, or otherwise to modify
their operation. The volcano may burst, the
tempest may rage, and the cliff may fall, an instant
before or an instant after the time when these
events might have been followed by fatal conse-
quences; or some passing impulse of feeling may

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natural order of things seemed to be reversed; evil was called good, and good evil; absolutism and corruption were the two great principles of government; statesmen and priests ridiculed almost openly the ideas for which they enforced outward obedience by the rack, the prison, and the hulks. We might illustrate these remarks in a variety of anecdotes taken from the annals of the eighteenth century; but the following sketch will be amply sufficient, we believe, to give to our readers a faithful idea of the disastrous epoch which preceded and prepared the cataclysm of 1789.

The abbé de Pontivy was, in 1773, a humble parish priest at Versailles. Unlike most persons belonging to his order, he had refused to purchase benefices at the expense of his own conscience; and whilst he saw some of his college friends riding post rather unscrupulously in the way to worldly fortune, he never would curry favour with the regent, the king, or Madame de Pompadour, the king's mistress. As a natural consequence, the abbé de Pontivy lived in obscurity; and we add, that he considered as a privilege what his more ambitious companions esteemed a mark of disgrace. Imagine, then, the surprise he felt, when, upon returning one evening to his home in the rue de Satory, he found a ministerial despatch, inclosing his appointment to a seat in the council of state. It was impossible to account for such an event, either by intrigue or otherwise; and yet the fact was plain enough, in black and white, indorsed by his majesty, and countersigned by the prime minister. Our abbé, after reflecting for some time, came to the conclusion that an uncle of his, who was captain in the guards, had lent him a helping hand after many years' forgetfulness; he therefore resolved upon paying him a visit the very next day, on his way to the audience of the minister.

We ought to have said that the abbé de Pontivy, although considered a man of sincere piety amongst those even of his own communion, was very far from being led astray by that spirit of bigotry which disgraced the great majority of the Gallican church during the seventeenth and

eighteenth centuries. He really sought, according to the imperfect light which he possessed, to glorify his heavenly Master; and he had long been of opinion that saints were not to be looked for in that assembly of nondescript ecclesiastics whose sole business was in the brilliant galleries of Versailles. M. de Pontivy, of course, was put down by his colleagues as a puritan; some said that he leaned towards Jansenism, others that he had secretly embraced Protestantism. The latter accusation might have arisen from the abbé's acquaintance with one of the most distinguished officers of the French army, M. de la Guette, who belonged to the persecuted Huguenots. The penal measures enforced against heretics since the revocation of the edict of Nantes still existed, indeed, in all their vigour; but the king had found it, nevertheless, expedient not to deprive himself of the services of a great many eminent men, who, if out of the pale of the Roman catholic church, were amongst his most faithful and devoted subjects. He allowed them to retain their religious opinions, and even created for them a special military decoration. M. de la Guette, on his return to Versailles after the seven years' war, hired a house near the abbé de Pontivy, and the usual intercourse which takes place between neighbours gradually ripened into friendship. The officer was attracted by the priest's evident candour, and by the liberality of his disposition; the priest, in his turn, could not help comparing the consistency so evident in M. de la Guette's character with the hypocrisy of the time-servers about him. They often talked together on religious subjects, and as M. de Pontivy was quite earnest in his search after truth, he soon came to view Protestantism more favourably than would have been agreeable to his diocesan. Still attached, however, by very slender ties to the Romish church, he felt disposed to encourage a complete system of reforms within its communion, and he rejoiced in his promotion to the council of state chiefly because it would enable him to raise his voice in favour both of the Jansenists and the Huguenots.

When the news was spread abroad that the abbé de Pontivy had attracted the notice of the minister, a great many people came to congratulate him, but principally from interested motives. M. de la Guette and a few others, however, were quite sincere in their good wishes for the new councillor.

"I am delighted at your appointment," said the officer to his friend," because I know that you will have a larger sphere of usefulness. May you be preserved from the corruption which is destroying society!"

The next day our abbé made his début on the political stage; at an early hour he went to the palace, where the chancellor had appointed to meet him, and was almost immediately introduced in the Council chamber. He found there all the ministers busily engaged, and secretaries transcribing despatches, or making extracts from a mass of papers which covered the table. As soon as the usher had announced "Monsieur l'abbé de Pontivy," the minister rose with a very courteous smile, and declared in most flattering terms the pleasure he had felt in calling to a seat in the council a person so truly devoted to the church and the king.

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Really, my lord," answered the abbé, "I am quite at a loss how best to express both my astonishment and my gratitude-that an individual so utterly inefficient as I know I am▬▬”

"Pshaw! monsieur," said the minister, "no apologies, if you please; to cut the matter short, I am glad to see you here; you will help us a little, and I have no doubt that you will find your new position a pleasant one. My friend the comptroller-general," added he, turning to an ignoblelooking man in clerical costume, who was signing some state papers, "has on his list a benefice for you; three thousand livres a year are not too much when one has a position to keep up." M. de Pontivy clearly felt that something was expected from him. He had not sufficient faith in the disinterestedness of government to believe that the simple desire of rewarding merit was at the root of all these liberalities. He even entertained for a moment the idea of declining altogether the brilliant situation offered to him; but then he thought that he would wait: he might render efficient services to the persecuted minority in his new post, and if any thing disagreeable occurred, it would always be time enough to withdraw.

The gentleman whom the ininister had addressed as the comptroller-general rose from the table where he was sitting, and coming in his turn to M. de Pontivy, complimented him in a few words. "There is one thing, monsieur," said he," which I hope you will see the propriety of discontinuing. I hear that you are the author of the paper against M. de Voltaire, which was published in the French Mercury' for last week

"And I have been told," continued the premier, "that you write pamphlets in favour of the Jansenists."

"Gentlemen," replied the abbé, "do not the very terms of my appointment bind me to devote myself to the interests of the church and the king?"

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Certainly," said the comptroller-general; " but you know what official communications mean, and how they ought to be interpreted. You are surely shrewd enough to be aware, that when we recommend due attention to the good of the church, we allude neither to points of dogma nor to questions of discipline. We simply perceive the necessity, especially in these present times, of keeping unimpaired the influence of the ecclesiastical body. Now the progress of philosophical doctrines being such as it is, and considering how strongly the public is prejudiced in favour of Voltaire, Rousseau, and the other writers belonging to that coterie, I must say that it would be rather foolish in us to make them our enemies."

"It is only a few days ago," observed M. de Pontivy, "that a volume of the Encyclopédie' was burnt by the common hangman."

The comptroller - general burst into a fit of laughter. "Ah! my dear sir," exclaimed he, the persons whom we burn are not long in rising from their ashes. For convenience' sake, we are obliged to make an auto-da-fe to the squeamishness of a few good folks; but, so far as I am concerned, M. de Voltaire is quite at liberty to circulate all his works throughout the kingdom, when he has given us the three or four copies reserved for puri.

when I stated to you the objections he entertained to cast in her lot with the Lord's people. Pray to mademoiselle's appearing at the palace. Is any for your friend written reply necessary ?'

"Monsieur de la Guette," returned the official, apparently highly mortified, "you take very useless trouble in misinterpreting the gentleman's sentiments. Am I to understand, sir," continued he, addressing M. de Pontivy, "that your sister refuses ?"

“Yes, sir,” was the reply.

"Then," muttered the court messenger, as he left the house," some people, I must say, are outrageously puritanical in their notions."

When the three friends were left together, their first feeling was one of heartfelt joy. They had done their duty; and the satisfaction they derived from this conviction did not allow them to realize the fact, that they had in all probability, by one act of courage, given mortal offence to persons who were powerful enough to ruin them for ever.

M. de la Guette made the remark to the abbé; the king might resent the slighting manner in which a mark of royal favour had been received; where would M. de Pontivy find support against the absolute power of a monarch accustomed to see everything bend before him ?

'My dear friend," answered the abbé, "in the first place, the king, if what I have heard be correct, will soon have to relinquish his power and to give the Almighty an account of his stewardship. Then," continued he, pointing to a bible which was lying open upon the table, "must I tell you where to look for support in every season of trial? You have seen strange things to-day; you may see stranger still before the dawn of to-morrow's sun."

It was late when M. de la Guette left the Pontivys; he had not been home more than an hour, and was preparing to retire for the night; suddenly a rap was heard at the door, and a few minutes after the servant came in bringing a message from the abbé. The letter ran thus:

"My dear Friend,

"Whilst you are reading this a messenger is on his way to the palace with three despatches. The first is directed to the chancellor: it contains my resignation as councillor of state; the short time during which I have held this commissiona few hours-has convinced me that, under the present form of government, a statesman must be prepared to sacrifice his principles if he would remain in favour.

"I have likewise declined the post offered to my sister Amélie. The court of Louis xv is not a school for virtue, and we have yet to learn that fashion can divest shame of its proper character. "Lastly; I write to the archbishop of Paris, my diocesan, acquainting him of my determination to embrace the Protestant faith. I had long, as you know, entertained doubts respecting many points to which in former days I blindly gave my assent; the Lord has been pleased to open my eyes, and I plainly perceive now that his people are bound to separate themselves at once from a system the basis of which is falsehood. My abjuration is no rash thing; it is what I have often thought of doing: but the scenes which I witnessed during the course of this day prevent me from delaying any longer. Amélie is likewise fully determined

"HENRY DE PONTIVY." The important step taken by M. de Pontivy rendered some measures of precaution absolutely necessary, and the early part of the next day was spent by M. de la Guette and himself in considering the course which it would be most advisable to pursue. They were still doubting whether they had better leave Versailles merely for the south of France, or at once endeavour to proceed directly either to Germany or to England, when a detachment of soldiers, headed by a lieutenant, entered the house. The officer forthwith took out of his pocket two papers, gave one to M. de Pontivy, the other to M. de la Guette, and requested them both to consider themselves under arrest, as well as mademoiselle; his orders were that the prisoners should be conveyed immediately to the Bastille.

There was something kind and respectful in the officer's deportment. He expressed how sorry he felt that he had so disagreeable a duty to perform. He understood that M. de Pontivy did not sympathise with the Jesuits; but what occasion was there for manifesting his dislike by joining the Huguenots? Was he aware of the severe laws enacted against them?

"Yes, sir."

"The deprivation of civil and natural rights, confiscation of property, fines, degradation, prison and the hulks, perhaps."

"We are quite prepared," answered M. de Pontivy, "to comply with all the requirements of the law."

"Well then, gentlemen," said the officer, "I must trouble you to follow me directly. My men have brought a sedan chair for mademoiselle; let us be off at once, if you please."

The party started immediately. As they went along the streets, they had almost to elbow their way through a compact crowd of persons, who, as on the day before, were eagerly awaiting fresh intelligence respecting the king's health. Although some more favourable symptoms had manifested themselves during the night, yet the king was still in a very dangerous state. The anxiety of the people could not be said to proceed from affection or sympathy. Louis xv had unceasingly helped to destroy every tie which connected him with his subjects, and in his last moments he was abandoned even by the favourites upon whom he had lavished the riches of France. A mere feeling of curiosity had brought the multitude together. "What shall we have next ?" was the question readable on every feature.

As the prisoners approached the palace walls, an unaccountable rumour spread from one end of the crowd to the other; one of the windows was suddenly opened, and a herald appeared on the balcony. The king is dead!" cried he; then, taking his hat off and waving it in the air, "Long live the king!"

The outburst of applause which followed this announcement was deafening, and amidst the most enthusiastic cheering Louis XVI was proclaimed. The new sovereign could not do better than stamp with an act of mercy the first exercise of his anthority; and a royal decree restored to liberty our three friends before they had left Versailles.

Varieties.