tives," if they were in the way. "No loss, trial, or affliction should be shunned on this account, and the Christian ought to go wherever the Lord calls him, though the whole world should rise up against him." Farel might properly give this advice; he was following it himself. Then, perhaps, referring to some late conduct of Natalis, he wrote,—“Knock, cry out with all your might, redouble your attacks upon our Lord." But still Natalis kept silence. He would not come out of his entrench

ments.

The third time Farel returned to the charge. He urged that "the manifestation of the love of God to men through Christ ought to excite every one to gratitude." He dwelt still longer upon the doctrines which he believed, and called upon Natalis to explain his own views with the same frankness, to agree with what he considered true, and point out what was erroneous. The chaplain ordered his secretary to break the silence.

The reply showed no signs of a friendly disposition, but was full of abuse. The writer asserted his own belief in all the Romish observances, and reproached Farel for undervaluing them. To this the reformer made a calm reply. The correspondence came to an end. If it did not secure its object, it proved the union of gentleness and energy in a man too often supposed to have been made of only explosive materials. The depth of his piety was evinced by the sufferings he endured; and, if his requirements from others were strict, they were no stricter than his own example enforced. For a time Lausanne was shut against him.

After this skirmish with a priest, came a face to face conflict with a monk. A mendicant friar, who did not dare to oppose the reformer at Aigle, crept slyly into the village of Noville, built where the Rhone pours its waters into the Lake of Geneva.

The friar went into the pulpit and made his attack upon Farel. He exclaimed,-"It is the devil himself, who preaches by the mouth of this minister, and all those who listen to him will be damned." Having thus vented his feelings he felt courageous enough to go back to Aigle. He did not, however, propose to appear there against Farel, whose powerful eloquence terrified him. There was a greater attraction than a combat with the weapons of truth. With a meek and humble look he went to beg, in behalf of his convent, a few barrels of the most delicious wine in all Switzerland!

He had not walked very far into the town before he met the minister whom Berne was resolved to keep in the field. At this sight he trembled in every limb. There was no mob of priests now in the streets to drive away the man of fiery eyes and fearful voice. Farel advanced and in a friendly tone asked,—

"Did you preach against me at Noville, saying that the devil spoke through me?"

"I did," whispered the monk in Farel's ear, not wishing to attract public attention.

"Would the devil preach the gospel, and will those who listen to it be damned?”

"Certainly not."

"Then, why have you publicly spoken against me in such terms? I request that you will point out and prove the errors which I am charged with preaching; for I would rather die than teach false doctrine to the poor people, whom Christ has redeemed by his blood. May the Lord never permit me to preach any doctrine that he does not approve."

"I have heard say that you are a heretic, and that you mislead the people by your doctrine," answered the priest, who would have been glad to turn away and look after the wine.

"That is not enough," replied Farel; "you must make good what you said in your sermon, for I am ready to stake my life in defence of my doctrine."*

"What

The monk now began to bluster, and said, angrily,have I preached against you? Who has heard it? I am not come hither to dispute with you, but to collect alms. You ought to know best whether you have preached sound or erroneous doctrine.”

Farel then represented to him that the truth was of the utmost importance, and that he was in a place where he would be certain of meeting with justice. "If you have spoken the truth," said he, "I cannot injure you. If you are right you should defend your sermon. If you have misled the people you should lead them back to the true path."

You are the false teacher; you mislead the people," said the friar, growing very uneasy and starting down street as if he would shake off his undesirable companion, and "turning now this way, now that, like a troubled conscience." A few citizens

gathered to the spot, and Farel knew them.

"You see this fine father," said the reformer, pointing to the monk. "He has said from the pulpit that I preach nothing but lies, and that you will perish if you listen to me."

“Prove what I said," cried the friar in a passion, and still trying to move away. "Where are your witnesses?"

"The Omniscient One is my witness. Come, now prove your assertions.'

*This was no empty boast; it was a matter of conscience and true fortitude. In a later letter Farel wrote,-"I must be prepared to suffer death if I should teach anything contrary to the doctrine of piety. I should be most worthy of any punishment whatever, if I should seduce any one from the faith and doctrine of Christ."

Then the monk, blushing and stammering, began to speak of the offerings of the faithful (the precious wine of Yvorne, for instance, that he came to beg!) and he said that Farel had opposed them. The crowd increased. The reformer, who only sought for an opportunity to proclaim the true worship of God, exclaimed with his loud voice, "It is no man's business ` to ordain any other way of serving God than that which he has commanded. Let us worship God alone in spirit and in truth; the true offerings are a broken and a contrite heart.'

The people looked intently upon the two actors in this scene, the monk with his wallet, and the reformer with his glistening eye. When the friar heard Farel say that there was a better worship than the holy Roman church prescribed, he turned pale and flush by turns, trembled and seemed quite out of his senses. At last, raising his hood and taking off his cap, he flung it on the ground and trampled it under foot, and cried out, "I wonder that the earth does not open and swallow us up!"

“Listen to him as he has listened to you," said one of the by-standers, as he took the monk by the sleeve.

The monk now ceased to stamp on his cap, and to "bawl like one out of his wits," and he seemed to himself already half dead with fright. Venting his wrath against him who held his sleeve, he said, "Thou art excommunicated, and dost thou lay hands on me." 'What!" replied the villager, "are all excommunicated who touch thy cowl? Hast thou a different God? or art thou baptized into a different name? Art thou not to be spoken to?"

The friar was silent, although furious; and the little town was in an uproar. Farel gave the poor wine-beggar some good advice, while he also took advantage of the crowd to declare

some of the most solemn truths of the gospel. It was, probably, his first chance since the cry, "down with Farel," had been raised in those streets and perhaps by those very people who now looked on amazed and confused. At length a magistrate appeared, ordered the monk and Farel to follow him, and he shut them up in prison, "one in one tower, and one in another."

On the Saturday morning, Farel was brought to the castle, where the court was assembled, with the monk already before them. He reminded his judges that they were sitting in God's stead, and that they should not have respect to persons or rank. He was willing to be punished if he had preached anything contrary to the word of God. He wished to obey the lawful authorities, but as for this friar, "let him make good his charges, or if he cannot, let the people hear the gospel." The violence of the monk was over. He was now ready to make matters up as best he could. He fell on his knees in alarm.

"My lords," said he, "I entreat forgiveness of you and of God. And Magister Farel, (turning to him) what I preached against you was grounded on false reports. I have found you to be a good man, and your doctrine good, and I am prepared to take back my words."

"My friend and brother," said Farel with deep emotion, "do not ask forgiveness of me, for I am a poor sinner like other men; I put my trust in Jesus. Before I saw you I had forgiven you as well as others who have spoken against me and the gospel. I have prayed to God both for them and for you."

One of the lords of Berne came up at this time, and the friar, imagining that he was on the brink of martyrdom, began to wring his hands, and to turn now to the Bernese councillor, and now to the court, and then to Farel, crying, "Pardon, pardon."