Wool-comber of Meaux, of whom we shall give a short history.

The city of Meaux, at that time, was almost wholly inhabited by artizans and dealers in wool; and when first the Bible was brought within their reach, it pleased God to excite in the breasts of many of these humble men an earnest desire to know its contents. An old writer tells us that they "took no other recreation, as they worked with their hands, than to talk with each other of the Word of God, and to comfort themselves with the same. Sundays and holidays, especially, were devoted to the reading of Scripture, and inquiring into the good pleasure of the Lord."

The father of John Leclerc was a blind and devoted follower of the monks; but his mother was one of those who loved God's holy Word. Her two sons received the Gospel, and John soon distinguished himself among the new Christians. Many were his zealous efforts to make known that truth which had brought peace to his own soul. He expounded the Scriptures, to such of his townsmen as were disposed to hear them, with much ability; visiting from house to house to confirm the disciples in the faith of the new doctrine. Being filled with courage by the Spirit of God, he became the bold leader of the little party in Meaux who dared to take the Bible for their guide. Fain would he have seen the whole system of Popery at once overthrown, and France, from the midst of its ruins, turning with a cry of joy toward the Gospel. Had he but been as prudent as he was zealous, his pious efforts might have proved much more useful to the cause which he loved. In his unguarded zeal he wrote a proclamation against the Antichrist of Rome, announcing that the Lord was about to destroy it by the breath of His mouth. He then boldly posted his placards on the gates of the cathedral. Presently, all was in confusion around that ancient edifice. The faithful were amazed; the priests greatly enraged. What! a fellow whose employment is wool-combing dares attack his holiness the Pope. The monks were outrageous, and demanded that this once, at least, a terrible example should be made. Leclerc was thrown into prison.

His trial was finished in a few days. The carder was condemned to be whipped three days successively through the city, and on the third to be branded on the forehead. This sad spectacle soon began. Leclerc was led through the streets with his hands bound and his back bare, and the executioners inflicted the blows he had drawn upon himself by rising up against the Bishop of Rome. An immense crowd followed in the track marked by the martyr's blood. Some yelled with rage against the heretic; others, by their silence, afforded satisfactory marks of their tender compassion. One woman encouraged the unhappy man by her looks and words: she was his mother.

At last, on the third day, when the blood-stained procession was ended, they halted with Leclerc at the usual place of execution. The hangman prepared the fire, heated the iron that was to stamp its burning mark on the evangelist, and approaching him, branded him on the forehead as a heretic. A shriek was heard; but it did not proceed from the martyr. His mother, a spectator of the dreadful scene, wrung with anguish, experienced in her loving heart a bitter struggle; but faith prevailed at last, and she exclaimed with a voice that made the adversaries tremble, "Glory to Jesus Christ and to his witnesses!" Thus did that Frenchwoman of the sixteenth century fulfil the commandment of the Son of God, He that . . . loveth son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. Such boldness, and at such a moment, merited signal punishment; but this Christian mother had appalled the hearts of both priests and soldiers. All their fury was controlled by a stronger arm than theirs. The crowd, respectfully making way, allowed the martyr's mother slowly to regain her humble dwelling. The monks, and magistrates, gazed on her without moving. "Not one of her enemies dared lay hands upon her," says the historian.

After this, Leclerc, being set at liberty, retired to a small town about six leagues from Meaux, and afterwards to Metz, in Lorraine, about the end of the year 1523.

In Metz, the historian tells us, John Leclerc followed the example of St. Paul at Corinth, who, while working at

his trade as a tent-maker, persuaded the Jews and the Greeks. Still pursuing his occupation as a wool-carder, Leclerc instructed the people of his own condition; and many of them were really converted. Thus did this humble artizan lay the foundation of a Church which afterwards I became celebrated.

but thou shalt

In Metz, however, his imprudent zeal suddenly arrested the slow but sure progress of the Gospel, and aroused a storm that threatened ruin to the rising Church. The common people, for the most part, continued walking in their old superstitions, and Leclerc's heart was vexed at seeing this great city plunged in idolatry. One of their great festivals was approaching. About a league from the city stood a Chapel, containing images of the Virgin, and of the most celebrated saints of the country, whither all the inhabitants of Metz were in the habit of making a pilgrimage, on a certain day in the year, to worship the images, and to obtain, as they supposed, the pardon of their sins. The eve of the festival had arrived: Leclerc's pious and courageous soul was violently agitated. Has not God said, Thou shalt not bow down to their gods utterly overthrow them, and quite break down their images? Leclerc thought that this command was addressed to him; and without consulting any of those whom he might have suspected would have dissuaded him, he quitted the city in the evening, just as night was coming on, and approached the Chapel. There he pondered awhile, sitting silently before the statues. He still had it in his power to withdraw; but on the next day, thought he, in a few hours, the whole city, that should worship God alone, will be kneeling down before those blocks of wood and stone! A struggle ensued in the wool-comber's bosom, like that which we trace in so many Christians of the first ages of the Church. What matters it to him that what he sees are the images of saints, and not of heathen gods and goddesses? Does not the worship which the people pay to these images belong to God alone? At such idol worship, his heart shudders, his courage revives.

Leclerc arose, approached the images, took them down,

and broke them in pieces, indignantly scattering their fragments before the altar. He doubted not that the Spirit of the Lord had excited him to this action, and others have thought the same. After this, he returned to Metz, which he entered at daybreak, unnoticed, save by a few persons as he was entering the gates.

Meanwhile all were in motion in the ancient city: bells were ringing; the brotherhoods were assembling; and the whole population of Metz, headed by the canons, priests, and monks, went forth in solemn procession. They recited prayers, or sung hymns, to the saints they were going to adore; crosses and banners moved on in due order; and instruments of music, or drums, responded to the voices of the faithful. At length, after nearly an hour's march, the procession reached the place of pilgrimage. But what was the astonishment of the priests, when advancing, censer in hand, they discovered the images which they had come to worship mutilated, and their fragments covering the earth! They recoiled with horror, and announced this sacrilegious act to the crowd. Suddenly the chanting ceased, the instruments were silent, the banners were lowered, and the whole multitude was in a state of indescribable agitation. The canons, priests, and monks endeavoured to inflame their minds, and excited the people to search for the criminal, and demand his death. But one cry burst from every lip-"Death, death to the sacrilegious wretch!" They returned to Metz in haste and in disorder.

Leclerc was known to all: many times he had called the images idols. Besides, had he not been seen at daybreak returning from the direction of the Chapel? He was seized: he immediately confessed his crime, and conjured the people to worship God alone. But this language still further exasperated the fury of the multitude, who would have dragged him to instant death. When led before his judges, he boldly declared that Jesus Christ, God manifest in the flesh, should alone be adored. He was sentenced to be burnt alive, and taken out to the place of execution.

Here a fearful scene awaited him. The cruelty of his

persecutors had been contriving all that could render his punishment more horrible. Near the scaffold, men were heating pincers, that were to serve as the instruments of their rage. Leclerc, firm and calm, heard unmoved the wild yells of the monks and people. They began by cutting off his right hand; then, taking up the burning pincers, they tore off his nose; after this, they lacerated his arms; and when they had thus mangled them in several places, they concluded by burning his breasts. While his enemies were in this manner wreaking their vengeance on his body, Leclerc's mind was at rest. He recited solemnly, and with a loud voice, these words of David: "Their idols are silver and gold, the works of men's hands. They have mouths, but they speak not: eyes have they, but they see not; they have ears, but they hear not: noses have they, but they smell not: they have hands, but they handle not: feet have they, but they walk not: neither speak they through their throat. They that make them are like unto them; so is every one that trusteth in them. O Israel, trust thou in the Lord: He is their help and their shield." The sight of such fortitude daunted the enemies, and strengthened the faithful. The people, who had before shown so much anger, were astonished, and touched with compassion. After these tortures, Leclerc was burnt by a slow fire, in conformity with his sentence. Such was the death of the first martyr of the gospel in France in that age!

THE FOUR LITTLE WORDS.

"FOUR little words did me more good when I was a boy, than almost anything else," said a gentleman the other day. "I cannot reckon up all the good they have done me; they were the first words which my mother taught me."

"Indeed; what were the four little words?" said I. He answered me by relating the following story:

"My father grafted a pear-tree; it was a very choice