"Scarcely had I quitted my lodgings before some of the servants of the Duke of Guise entered them, demanded of my landlord where I was, and searched for me everywhere. At last, not being able to find me, they sent to my mother's house, to offer her that if I would bring them a hundred crowns they would preserve both my life and my furniture. My mother sent to apprise me of this, at the house of M. de Pereuze; but, after having considered it for a moment, I did not think it prudent to let them know where I was, nor yet to go to meet them. I therefore earnestly besought my mother to give them to understand that she could not tell what was become of me,1 and at the same time to offer them the sum that they demanded. As no tidings of me could be obtained, my lodgings were pillaged.

"M. de Pereuze did not act his part so well as not to be suspected, and it was ordered that his house should be searched that day after dinner. The greater number of those that had taken refuge there now withdrew to some other retreat, and none remained except Mademoiselle de Chanfreau and myself. Being obliged to conceal us, he placed her and her maid in a woodhouse outside, and me with one of my female attendants in an empty loft; at the same time he disguised and concealed the rest of our people as well as he could. Being in this loft, which was just over his granary, I heard such strange cries of the men, women, and children whom they were murdering in the streets, and likewise having left my daughter below, I was thrown into such a state of agitation, then despair, that, had it not been for my fear of offending God, I should have thrown myself down headlong rather than fall alive into the hands of the populace or see my child massacred, whom I loved more than my own life. One of my servants took her, and carried her through the midst of all these dangers, and went in search of the house of my maternal grandmother, who was then living, and left her there, where she remained till my grandmother's death.

...

"It now became a question how we should best disguise ourselves in order to seek another asylum. I could not venture to my mother's house, for a guard had been stationed around it. I went to the house of a blacksmith who had married one of my mother's maid-servants, a seditious person, who was also captain of the watch in the quarter where he lived. I promised myself that if the wife showed me compassion he would not do me any injury.

My mother came to meet me at night in that abode; she was more dead than alive, and more stupefied with terror than myself. I passed that night at the home of this captain blacksmith, and it

1 We cannot, of course, approve of the falsehood, but the circumstances were terribly trying.

was my lot to hear him continually uttering maledictions against the Huguenots, and to see the booty brought in which had been pillaged from the houses of persons of the Reformed religion. He declared to me in very positive terms that I must go to the Mass.

"On the Wednesday morning my mother sent to the house of M. the President Tambonneau . to ask him to make some provision for my safety. About mid-day I went there quite alone, and, not knowing my way, followed a little boy who showed me to the house. They were living in the cloister of Nôtre Dame. . I entered the house unobserved, and they lodged me in the study of M. de Tambonneau, where I remained all the Wednesday, and till Thursday night. But on Thursday evening they received information that a search was to be made there for some of their relations, and fearing that in looking for them they might discover me, they advised me to change my quarters, which I accordingly did about midnight between Thursday and Friday."

They sent to conduct her to the house of a corn-merchant who served them, and was a man of respectable character. She remained there five days, during which she received much attention from the President and his wife and family; indeed, she partook of so great kindness and assistance from them that, apart from the relationship which exist between that lady and herself, she says there never was a day of her life in which she did not feel deeply indebted to them.

On the Tuesday following, her mother having contrived to induce her brothers to go to Mass, in order to preserve them from destruction, thought to save her daughter by the same means, and communicated with her on the subject through one of their cousins, who, after many conversations which they had together, found her, by the grace of God, most determined in her refusal. The diary continues:

"On the Wednesday morning, my mother, after having employed such means of persuading me to yield, and not receiving an answer in accordance with her wishes, but only a supplication to get me out of Paris, sent to assure me that she should be under the necessity of sending my daughter back to me. I had no other answer to make than that in such a case I would take her in my arms, and we would surrender ourselves to be assassinated both together. But in the same hour I resolved to leave Paris at all hazards, and besought the bearer of the message to go and secure a place for me on the passageboat, or in any other which might be going up the River Seine. The time that I was in the corn-merchant's lodging was not without its share of anxiety. I occupied a chamber which was immediately above an apartment inhabited by Madame de Foissy (a Roman Catholic lady), which circumstance prevented me from walking in

iny room, through fear of being discovered; and one could not even venture to light a candle, both on account of her and of the neighbours. When they brought in anything to eat, it was a little morsel concealed under an apron, when they pretended to come for linen for the lady. In fine, I left the lodging on Wednesday, the eleventh day of the massacre, at about eleven o'clock of the morning, and got into a boat which was going to Sens, for my messenger did not like to take my place by the passage-boat because it was too public, and he feared that some one might recognise me.

"When I got into the boat I found there two monks, a priest, and two merchants with their wives. On reaching Tournelles, where a guard was stationed, the boat was stopped and our passports were demanded; each showed them one except myself, who had none. They then began to declare that I was a Huguenot and must be drowned, and they required me to come out of the boat. I besought them to conduct me to the house of M. de Voysenon, Auditor of Accounts, who was one of my friends, and transacted the business of my grandmother, who was a zealous Roman Catholic, assuring them that he would answer for me. Two soldiers of the party took me and conducted me to the house I had named."

It pleased God that they should remain at the gate and allow her to go upstairs by herself. M. de Voysenon immediately went downstairs and assured the soldiers that he had often seen me in the house of Madame d'Eprunes, whose son was Bishop of Senlis, that they were good Catholics, and well known by the public to be so.

"The soldiers sensibly replied that they were not making any enquiries about that family, but about me. He told them that he had formerly seen me a good Catholic, but that it was not in his power to pronounce whether I was so now. At this instant a respectable woman came up and asked them what they wanted to do with me. They said to her, 'By heavens, this is a Huguenot, and must be drowned, for we see how terrified she is!' And truly enough I thought that they were going to throw me into the river. She answered them, 'You know me; I am no Huguenot: I go every day to Mass; but I am so frightened, that for these eight days I have been in a fever.' One of the soldiers answered, with an oath, And I. and all of us, have been pretty well agitated.' Thus they took me back to the boat, assuring me that if I had been a man I should not have escaped so easily.

"Just at the time when I was arrested on the boat, the lodging which I had quitted was ransacked, and if I had been found there I must have incurred great danger."

Successful in escaping this time, the dangers to which Madame de

Feuquères was exposed were by no means over.

On board the boat the monks and merchants boasted of the glorious deeds of the last few days, and twitted her with talking like a Huguenot, so that she

had to pretend to be asleep, to escape their questions. The next day the lady presented herself at the country seat of the Chancellor L'Hôpital, who, though kind and willing to help her, made it a condition of his assistance that she should attend Mass. This she

declined to do, and so sought refuge with a poor vine-dresser, who gave her shelter for a few days, and (although he was unaware that the humble "servant" whom he was entertaining was a lady of title) he subsequently helped her forward to Esprimes, where the Feuquères had some property. To ensure greater safety, the fugitive travelled on for four leagues to the house of her elder brother. He had embraced the Protestant faith, but not possessing the strong principles of his sister, had recanted, and, like the Chancellor L'Hôpital, he too required her attendance at Mass. Thus driven about, and tempted even by her own kith and kin to forsake the truths of the Gospel, she yet had grace and courage given her to refuse. Collecting together a small sum of money due to her in the neighbourhood, she pressed forward to Sedan, where she arrived on November 1. Here she fell in with friends, and received from them much kindness and attention.

√.

MARRIAGE TO M. DE MORNAY.

WHILE Madame de Feuquères had been passing through the hairbreadth escapes of that terrible time of massacre another Huguenot had been encountering perils equally marvellous.

Philip de Mornay was born at Buhi on November 5, 1549. His father was a Roman Catholic, but his mother had by the Holy Spirit's teaching found her way to a purer faith. She often talked with her husband upon this subject which was so full of interest to herself, and she had the happiness of seeing him refuse to participate in the superstition of his Church, and declare that his hopes of salvation rested upon Christ Jesus alone.

Philip was intended for the priesthood, as his uncle had good opportunities of furthering his interests in the Roman Catholic Church.

After the death of his father, Philip, who was ten years old, was urged by his mother and elder brother to read their Protestant catechisms; he declined to do so, as he had no intention of leaving the Romish Church. He asked, however, for a New Testament in Latin and French. He declined a Geneva version which was offered to him, but the edition of Rouville, printed at Lyons, he accepted and read eagerly, praying God to illuminate him to the salvation of his soul. He found that several of the doctrines and practices of his Church, such as purgatory, the invocation of saints, the sacrifice of the Mass, and the worshipping of images, had no warrant from the Holy Scriptures, and after further study of various controversial works he determined to quit the Church of Rome. This took place