66 SURE MERCIES."

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blasphemer of Tarsus and the converted voluptuaries of Corinth. But as long as man's Mediator keeps His station at the right hand of the Father,- as long as the blood of our Divine Brother retains its voice, and speaks better things than the blood of Abel,-as long as the echoes of the upper sanctuary repeat that dying cry, "Father, forgive them;"-so long will it be just in God to pass by transgression, and so long will it be a joy to all His generosity to bestow the pardon which penitence craves, and which justice no longer withholds.

In order to receive that pardon, we have only to come to God through Jesus Christ. There are no courtly punctilios prescribed, but there is a great principle laid down. That principle is, that whoso shall so far agree with God Himself as to give glory to the work of Immanuel, shall benefit by that work; or, otherwise expressed, that whosoever shall subscribe his name to that petition for pardon which has already received the signature of the Atoning Surety, shall never come into condemnation, but in the very fact is already passed from death to life. In such an event-in the case of such believing in Christ-in the case of such an adhesion to the scheme of mercy, there need be no more doubt as to the forthcoming pardon than there need be distrust in the laws of Nature. To those who come for it to the Throne of Grace, God Himself has taught us that His mercies are as sure, as it is sure that the thick cloud will be blotted out and melted away in the blazing beam ;—as it is sure that the sun will soon salute his expectant gaze whose eyes are turned to the serene and brightening orient ;-as it is sure that the rich round drops will not spin upward through the firmament and disperse through empty space, but will descend on the outspread eager soil. If we return to the Lord, thus surely will He raise us up and cause us to live in His sight; for His going forth is prepared as the

morning, and He shall come unto us as the latter and former rain comes down on the earth.

Reader! let each of us, then, take words and say, God, I am thy creature. Every moment I depend on Thee; and if I am to lead a blessed life here and hereafter, it must be a heaven of thine own giving, and it must be given to one whose desert is hell. But I hope in thy mercy. Though it has taught me that Thou wilt not connive at sin, the cross of Christ has taught me thy clemency. And encouraged by thine own invitations, I come to Thee. I come in the name of Him who, occupying the nearest relation to Thyself, was so generous as to become the near relation and the all-sufficing representative of our fallen family. O Father of our Lord Jesus, for His sake have mercy on a miserable sinner. His sufferings do Thou accept in lieu of my merited punishment, and let His spotless obedience earn my admission to a forfeited heaven. I believe thine own declaration that Thou art a God ready to pardon, and I now draw nigh rejoicing to think that it is on a Throne of Grace that Thou givest me this audience. From that Throne I beseech Thee send down the Holy Spirit the Comforter. May He increase and perpetuate those grateful feelings and devout affections which I trust He Himself has enkindled, and conduct me to the end of my course a lowly but true-hearted follower of the blessed Redeemer. And whatever else I forget, may I ever remember that I have a great High-Priest who is passed into the heavens; and whatever darkness sin may hereafter bring on my soul, may I never forget the revelation of this hour; but always be able to come boldly to the Throne of Grace, that I may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need: for Jesus' sake. Amen."

THE VAUDOIS AND THE VAL LOUISE.

THE highest mountain in France forms the apex of a triangle of which the two extremities of the Cottian Alps, the Mont Genévre to the north and the Mont Viso to the south, form the base. The district of the Hautes Alpes, contained between the Mont Pelvoux and the ridge of the Cottian Alps, may be considered as the aboriginal settlement of the French Vaudois. In the basin of the Durance and in the valleys of its tributaries, some of them the scenes of Neff's successful labours, the unquestionable traces of the primitive Church may still be found. But there is one valley in which there is no living testimony. They are the dead who speak from the Val Louise. One great cavern under the precipices of Mont Pelvoux, and the pulpit in the church of Val Louise, are the silent but outspoken records of the massacre which, in obedience to a Papal Bull issued in 1487, exterminated a population of three thousand souls.

Who has contemplated without a shudder the tragic picture of Cataneo's infatuated troops driving the peaceful inhabitants into the narrow gorge of their valley,—the Vaudois singing their cantiques as they fly to their hidingplace, the Papists breathing out slaughter against the Christians? The women and children-and, as some accounts say, the flocks and herds-with provisions enough for two years, are safely transported across the almost inaccessible crags, and the cavern of Pelvoux receives them into its secure asylum; and here they might have tired out the patience of a hardier general than Cataneo. But the renegade Palud suggests the scheme of surmounting the huge barrier of precipice overhanging the cavern, and by ropes and combustibles succeeds in striking the refugees with

panic, and the work of slaughter is accomplished. Those who attempted to escape were either destroyed by the flames or by the sword of the enemy; while those who remained in the cave were stifled by the smoke. Four hundred infants were found suffocated at the breasts of corpses, and three thousand Vaudois perished, including the whole population of Val Louise. Cataneo distributed the property of the martyrs among his followers, and from that day to this there has never been a Vaudois or Protestant family resident in the valley.

Few travellers have visited this spot; very few, if any, have penetrated the cavern. The horror of such a tragedy

seems to have checked the interest of the Protestant as he passed along the highroad from Gap to Briançon, and told him it would be in vain to seek for the living among the dead. Such, at least, was my own impression the first time I passed that way; but having last year the two inducements to a mountain ramble-fine weather and leisure -I determined to make an attempt to visit the Cave.

It was one of those days which at midsummer are peculiar to the Hautes Alpes,- the scenery as wild and bleak as in the highest passes of the Oberland, the temperature and colouring that of Como and Milan. The snowy tops of Argentiere and Pelvoux seemed to be asleep on the blue bosom of the cloudless sky, and the only thing that moved was the sickle and the troops of muleteers carrying their harvest home. Our party consisted of Mons. B., superintendent of colporteurs for the district; Mons. B., the Vaudois pasteur of Fressinière; Mons. F., a colporteur from Geneva; and myself. We were provided with mules, two attendants on foot, and a scanty supply of provisions from La Roche. From La Bessèe, where we left the main road, we were about two hours en route to the town of Val Louise, having crossed the Durance at a narrow gorge in the

rocks where it receives its tributary from the Val Louise, and where a heavy stone wall, or breastwork, has been thrown up across the valley to protect it from invasion. It does not, however, bear the marks of very great antiquity, and does not seem to have been connected with the crusade against the Vaudois, who made no resistance to Cataneo. In a military point of view, however, it is a position which in those days might have been occupied with much effect.

The town of Val Louise stands in the fork of two valleys, commanding two sides or ridges of the Mont Pelvoux, and it is difficult to conceive anything in mountain scenery more beautiful than its situation. There are the usual details of the Alpine metropolis,-the roaring torrent, the bridge, the church with its lofty spire, the balconied houses, and the busy little auberge reeking with the smoke of omelettes and tobacco. Here we found fodder for our mules, but very little for ourselves. The salon was preoccupied with a noisy party of the aristocracy of the valley, at which the Catholic priest did the honours, and a band of government officers who are employed by the "Woods and Forests" of France to mark the trees which are to be cut down for fuel during the year. Leaving the confusion of the inn kitchen-for it is here that all the business of man and beast is done-I sought a refuge in the church which had attracted my notice on entering the town by a gigantic fresco on the tower representing St. Christopher with a firtree for a walking-stick, carrying a diminutive figure of the Saviour, who holds a globe in His arms. The church has no marks of great antiquity, but in searching about in the masonry of the porch, I found a stone with the date 1418 upon it, showing that there had probably been a church there seventy years before the massacre. The church-door was ajar, and we entered without any interruption. Here we found a curious and interesting contrast. Against one of