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-André, 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 noticed 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 They proposed to insult the mini

because of Berne.

ster, 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.

Williamette de Vergy and Bellegarde, trembling behind their battlements, repented, too late, of their monstrous expedient. They saw the last offensive house sacked: they knew not what might come next. But how awful! The outraged people turn toward the castle, they ascend the hill, they draw near. Is the castle to be rifled or even demolished? Not at all, proud lady! 'We come to demand justice for the outrage committed against religion and its minister,' respectfully say the delegated burghers standing at the gate. They are permitted to enter; and the affrighted countess hears their case, and orders the poor wretches, who had done her bidding, to be severely punished. Still she takes the first chance to send a messenger to Berne, declaring that 'great insults had been offered her!' Berne hears only one side of the case, orders the reformed party to pay the damages, but insists that they shall have the free exercise of their

religion. The countess must submit. James Veluzat, from France, became the first reformed pastor of Valangin. In 1531 the entire principality of Neufchatel came under the power of Francis, son of the Princess Joan. He proclaimed liberty of conscience and faith in the whole canton. The sermon on the rock at Serrière had been one means of securing these great results.

And now comes another reaper into the harvest. A young Dauphinese, named Christopher Libertet Fabri, had been studying medicine at Montpelier, where he first learned the disease of his own soul and found its remedy. He still intended to go to Paris and complete his studies. Being at Lyons, he met certain friends of the truth, who told him of the wonderful events in Neufchatel and the neighbouring villages. He was so interested in these reports that he changed his mind and his route; and now we find him at Morat, inquiring for the house where Farel is lodging.

Sore from the beating at St. Blaise, shivering with cold, spitting blood,' and scarcely able to speak, Farel is lying at Morat. Tenderly has he been welcomed there, and carefully is he watched by the friends who tread softly about his room. A young man wishes to see him. As he is a Dauphinese, he may come. Modestly approaching the bed, he introduces himself as Christopher Fabri, and says-

'I have forsaken everything-family, prospects, and country to fight at your side, Master William. Here I Do with me as seems good to you.'

am.

'I see that we have the same faith and the same Saviour,' replies Farel, after being touched with the young man's lively affection and intense devotion. He looks upon Fabri as 'a son whom God has sent him,'

and day after day talks with him. On his bed he is training a student for the ministry. He would like to keep him always at his side; but he must bid his 'tenderest son' preach the more beloved Saviour.

'Go, now, my dear son in the faith,' says Farel one day, 'and preach the gospel at Neufchatel.' Has Farel ordained him in that sick-room, as he himself had been at Basle?

'O my master,' answers Fabri in tears, my sorrow is greater to-day than when I left father and mother, so delightful have been my conversations with you.' He learns his duty, obeys, goes to Neufchatel and urges forward the good work.

On the Roman highway that led from Italy to Gaul, was the ancient city of Urba, built, it was said, in the same century with Rome. The story runs that the kings of the first French race once rested near this old city, and, charmed with the valley that sloped from the foot of the Jura to Lake Neufchatel, they exclaimed, 'It is enough; we will stop here.' In place of Urba grew up the town of Orbe,1 which was now to talk of mightier personages than the old French kings, of whose wise choice they boasted, or 'good Queen Bertha,' who dwelt at this old town when this part of Switzerland belonged to Little Burgundy. The country is full of legends about her spinning on horseback with a distaff fastened to a saddle, which is still shown at Payerne. She was a friend to all the poor, and 'the nursing mother of the nation, which she guided and fed.' She had a zeal for building convents and castles; and some of the towers of Bertha' still remain. She was anxious to impart to her people a love of industry, by setting them a good example. One 1 The birthplace of Prof. Louis Agassiz, of modern scientific renown.

day she was spinning on her palfrey, as she rode through some pastures near Orbe, when she saw a young girl spinning, like herself, while watching her flock of sheep. She rode up and gave her a beautiful present, along with much praise. The next day several noble but idle ladies came before her with their distaffs, in hopes of a reward. But she knew their vain pretensions, and told them, The peasant girl came first, and, like Jacob, carried my blessing, leaving nothing for Esau.' People still talk of the good days when Queen Bertha spun, and when she told the peasants good stories from the Bible.'

In that town was a burgess, 'cloth-dresser and tailor,' who, one day in 1511, wrote down the name of another son-Peter Viret. The father went on fulling the cloths, and associating with the best informed burgesses, and even with some of the nobles. Peter grew up, taking no delight in his father's pursuits, nor aspiring after his official dignities. He wished for God, and took the path which the priests pointed out as the way to heaven. If alone or with his brothers, Anthony and John, he walked along the banks of the Orbe, or looked with emotion on the Jura, and caught glimpses of the Alps; then he lifted. his eyes toward the Most High for help. He was ignorant, and must remain so as long as the blind were leading the blind. He resolved to be a priest. His father did not oppose, for it was counted an honour among the towns-people to have a priest among their children. He gained all that the schools of Orbe could offer him, and, when about twelve, he was sent to the University of Paris. It was the same year (1523) that John Calvin entered one of the same colleges. Did these two boys, who were yet to be most intimate at Geneva, meet there and begin their genial friendship? We know not. But they were