satisfaction to the countess. She came down the terrace and cried,-"Drown them! drown them! throw them into the Seyon-these Lutheran dogs, who have despised the host." The priests were already dragging them towards the bridge. Never was Farel nearer death.

Just then, from behind the last rock that hides Valangin, "there appeared certain good persons of the Val de Ruz, coming from Neufchatel." They asked of the priests, probably intending to save Farel, "What are you doing?”

"Treating these heretics as they deserve. Putting them into the river."

"Put them, rather, in a place of safety, that they may answer for their proceedings. Would you deprive yourselves of the only means of finding out those who are poisoned by heresy? Make them confess who their friends are.'

The priests caught the idea, and took the bruised missionaries into the chapel of the castle. Passing by an image of the virgin they said to them "kneel down before Our Lady.

"Ye ought to worship the only true God, and not a dumb lifeless image," said Farel.

*

But they beat the blood out of him, and for six years the stains were visible on the walls. They led them to the prison, and "let them down almost lifeless into the dungeon of the castle of Valangin." The prisoners, like Paul and Silas in the jail at Philippi could "sing praises unto God." Bellegarde had now an opportunity to display his zeal, and he was preparing for them a cruel end. But some townsmen of Neufchatel came and demanded them. The countess dared not refuse, for Berne might show a strong hand. The senate requested her to make an inquiry and detect the outlaws; she pretended to do so "to put a good face on the matter." The canons of Valangin were ever

after suspected of laying the plot in the house of the countess, where they were daily guests at her table. One account has it that, "Nevertheless the priest who beat Farel most, never failed to eat daily at the lady's table by way of recompense." This was of little moment; the great thing was that the truth had been sown in the Val de Ruz, and we shall soon see the reapers coming for the harvest.

This severe beating accounts for the gap in the previous chapter between August and October, when we had nothing to record pertaining to Farel. He was recovering from his wounds. It may have been that during this interval his letter, to a young man about to enter the ministry, was penned. "Look for labour, not for leisure. Truly a wide field lies open, but only for those who wish to feed the flock rather than to live upon it. Much reproach is to be endured. You must expect to meet with ingratitude in return for kindness, and evil for good."

Farel had now passed through the great events of October 23 ; he had preached in Neufchatel from a pulpit stripped of every ornament; he had visited the surrounding villages, "working at a reformation night and day." He had seen his friend Emer Beynon, who first set him up on the stone to preach in Serrière, take a decided course. This good man said one day to his parishioners, from his pulpit, "If I have been a good priest, I desire now to be, by God's grace, a better pastor." These words should go everywhere. Farel recommended to him a career of labours, fatigues and struggles in behalf of the gospel. Emer saw his parish imitate Neufchatel in giving a majority for the Reform.

There was much secret work going on among the Romanists at Neufchatel. Some persons were more zealous for popery after its downfall than they had been in the day of its power.. The

clergy glided into houses and said mass to a few friends darkly gathered around a temporary altar. The priest came noiselessly to baptize a child, breathed on it, made the sign of the cross on its forehead, and sprinkled it with water of Romish consecration. They hoped to build up in secret what had been overthrown openly. At length they agreed upon a counterrevolution.

A plot was laid for the vespers of Christmas. While the Christian songs were rising to heaven, the conspirators were to rush into the church, expel the heretics, overthrow the protestant pulpit and tables, restore the images, and celebrate the mass in triumph. But the plot came to light, as such schemes of darkness generally draw into them persons who will betray themselves. Berne was notified of the plan. She sent her deputies, who arrived on the very eve of the festival. "You must see to this," said they to the governor. "If the reformed are attacked we, their co-burghers, will protect them with all our power." The conspirators laid down their concealed weapons, and the Christian hymns were not disturbed. Thus ended the Neufchatel vespers.

Noble Berne! sending forth her missionaries, and not allowing a hair of their heads to be touched, if they could help it, and bringing the priests of many a village and city to the terms of the people. The bear on her shield was a terror to the Romanists. But she appeared to the friends of the gospel as a protecting shepherdess and a nurturing mother.

In the middle of winter Farel crossed the mountain and entered the church of Valangin, went into the pulpit, and began to preach just when the Countess Williamette was coming to hear the mass. She ordered his mouth to be shut, but through his lips passed a torrent of truth, carrying away the prejudices

of his hearers. The aged dowager retired in haste, saying, "I do not think this is according to the old gospels; if there are any new ones that encourage it, I am quite amazed." What the priests did, this time, we do not know, but the people of Valangin were won to the truth. The affrighted lieutenant of the place ran to Berne and made complaint to the senate, but he gained nothing. Their excellencies said coolly, "Why should yon disturb the water of the river? Let it flow freely on.

On the slopes of the Jura mountains Farel wandered, preaching in the hamlets and gaining new triumphs. Curates and abbots resisted him with violence. At one place he was dragged out of the pulpit and driven away by insults and blows; at another he was wounded by a stone or a gun-shot. At St. Blaise the people, hissed on by the priests, fell upon him, and he escaped from their hands "severely beaten, spitting blood, and scarcely to be recognized. He was put into a boat, by some of his friends, and conveyed to Morat, where his wounds detained him, more wearied and restless than if he had been engaged in his apostolic labours.

The report of this violence at St. Blaise reached the reformed people in Neufchatel. They felt their blood boil. They reasoned thus-If the priests and their allies bruise the body of Christ's servant (which is truly the temple of God,) why should we spare their dead idols? They rushed to St. Blaise, entered the church, threw down the images, and broke up a vast amount of popish machinery. They went to the Abbey of Fontaine Andre, and greatly alarmed that blissful nest of quarrelsome monks by destroying their altars and images. Even granting that these were acts of an unchristian revenge, still it should be noted that these image breakers did not seek to return the wounds of Farel upon living men, but upon dead idols. Not

against the priests but against popery, were their blows directed. There was no disposition to take vengeance upon a man, woman, or child, nor upon canon, monk, abbot or priest. Thus the Romanists struck at the preachers of the gospel; they persecuted even unto death. Protestants aimed at great errors and pitied the people, and proved that they were more nearly like God, who hates the sin, but spares the sinner.

One more glance at Valangin. It has generally been stated that Farel was there a third time during this period. But an old chronicler says it was "the minister of Neufchatel," and this title was never given to Farel. The minister in those days, was Anthony Marcourt, a zealous Frenchman. On a great holiday he went to Valangin, and soon had a crowd about him in the streets, listening to his words. The canons were watching from their windows, and the countess and her chamberlain from their towers. They sought how to divert the people from the preacher. They dared not use brute force because of Berne. They proposed to insult the minister, and raise a tremendous laugh in the assembly. A canon and Madame's coachman took two horses from the stables and performed a piece of vile trickery which decency will not allow us to describe. But instead of a laugh there was the most intense disgust and indignation. The schemers knew not with whom they were dealing. They overshot the mark. The infamous spectacle was scarcely over, when the multitude rushed into the church. They broke the ancient windows and the shields of the lords; they scattered the relics, tore the books, threw down the images, and turned over the altars. Then, sweeping forth like a whirlwind, they threatened the canons' houses. The dwellings were destroyed, but the canons and their pack fled wildly into the woods, and found sorrow enough for trying to raise a laugh.