him, and delivereth them." They reached the chateau, and found there many others yet more unfortunate than themselves. One gentleman having placed his wife and infant in the boat, had been precipitated into the water by the pressure of the crowd, and the boat went off without him. Another, M. Chabram, yet more unhappily had fallen into the hands of his persecutors in the following manner:— he was about to embark with his son and daughter, but he requested the former to take care of his sister, in order that he might take charge of the only child of a widow, whose helpless situation excited his sympathy. On the approach of the boat the rush towards it separated the mother and child; whilst he was engaged in the benevolent effort to assist them, the boat, with his children in it, left the shore: half an hour afterwards he was in the hands of the Dragoons.

At the chateau, Mademoiselle de Choisy met her mother: this lady had wandered through the country the whole night, and at break of day found shelter in a poor old woman's cottage, not three hundred yards from the place of embarkation, though she thought she had wandered many miles from it.

The father and his children finally escaped, first to Holland and thence to England, where as lately as sixteen years ago, a lineal descendant of the family was living in poverty and want.

The number of Protestants who succeeded in evading the edicts against emigration could not have done so had there not been found amongst their enemies some either whose kindness of heart overpowered the unmercifulness of their creed, or, which is more probable, who could not believe that in assisting in such

rigours against their fellow-creatures, that they were 'doing God service.'

The sufferings endured by the Protestants from the quartering of the Dragoons amongst them during the days of the Dragonâdes, are mostly buried in oblivion: a general and terrific picture of horror, suffering and death, is all that remains to us.

Whether at Port Royal, Rochelle, or Val Louise, the great object of the 'grand monarque' seems to have been, the utter extirpation from his dominions of every thing which bore the faintest semblance to Protestantism; and, except in the most inaccessible valleys of the Alps, he seems to have greatly suc-ceeded; with it however fell the national character of France, which became in the succeeding age the slave of vice and infidelity.

AND let us not suppose that our petitions, though not granted, are not of any service to us. Prayer has chiefly for its object the benefit of him who engages in it, and it is the exercise of prayer, and not the answer only, that confers benefit upon the soul. There is a principle of reaction in spiritual as well as in natural things, and this remark is applicable in a special manner to the subject of prayer. Our supplications are uttered, they ascend to heaven,—they strike the mercy-seat and return again, bringing with them, if not an answer, at least an influence which displays itself in the more submissive resignation of the believer to his trials, and in a more settled conviction that in Christ is all his strength.-Rev. D. Bagot.

AFFLICTION.

"My son, despise not thou the chastening of the Lord, nor faint when thou art rebuked of him; for whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth." HEB. xii. 5, 6.

SUFFERERS under affliction may be divided into three classes:—those who despise the chastening of the Lord; those who faint under it; and those who receive it as the correction of a wise and beloved Father.

To be insensible to the punishments which God often sends to win us to himself, is to imitate the conduct of Pharaoh, who hardened his heart when the Lord visited him with his plagues, and only grew more rebellious under the rod. How many are there to try to bury salutary grief in the cares of daily life, and to choke its good seed among thorns; and how many others turn to variety of scene and occupation, to gaiety and amusement, that they may soon forget the voice of chastisement, and feel its rod as slightly as may be! Is this wise? is it not defeating the ob

ject of

Him who struck the blow,

And bade it do its errand in our hearts,

And banish peace till nobler guests arrive.

YOUNG.

If the heart be not opened when the Lord first knocks at its door, may he not reiterate the blow

again and again, until it be forced to find its happiness in him?

In the furnace of affliction we are either melted down to receive the seal of God's Spirit, or we are hardened towards condemnation. In every sorrow the Lord means to promote our eternal welfare; and it is good to look from the rod to the hand that holds it, and say, "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do? I will stand upon my tower, and watch to see what he will say to me, and what I shall answer when I am reproved." Hab. ii. 1.

The second class is composed of very different characters. These, far from despising the chastening of the Lord, sink under its weight, and looking only to a darkened world, forget the hand that has drawn the curtain of sorrow over their worldly prospects. They resemble Jonah, who, when he beheld his gourd withered, and its green beauty changed in death, "fainted and wished in himself to die, and said, It is better for me to die than to live." Jonah iv. 8. Such behold with agony the desire of their eyes taken from them, and, in the first anguish of bereavement, believe that with the beloved, every thing that made earth dear or life desirable hath departed; and they determine to tread a rayless path of mourning to a much desired grave, yet they seek not to illumine the dark waves of their misery with the star-light of heavenly hope. They err, sadly err. We should remember that he at whose command our pleasant gourd hath withered, is the same who first bade it spring. Perhaps its shade intercepted the beams of the Sun of Righteousness; perhaps the Creator was forgotten in the love of the creature, and God in his mercy might have bade one ascend to himself, that

both might rejoice together throughout eternity. O mourner, pray and strive to be enabled to say, It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth him good, and you shall hereafter rejoice that the cold north wind blew over the garden, and made it bring forth spices. It is a consoling truth, that whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth; and that in all our affliction he is afflicted. There is indeed a needs be for every dart of grief.

Our hearts are fastened to this world,
With strong and endless ties;
But every sorrow cuts a string,

And urges us to rise.

YOUNG.

The Lord beholds his chosen wrapped in worldlymindedness; he sees clearly that the dross of earth has mingled too much with the gold of the sanctuary, and immediately he puts his beloved into the furnace of affliction, while he sits by, watching that its heat be not a degree stronger than is necessary for the purification of his precious metal. Is the child of God becoming a follower of mammon? He who accepts not a divided heart, shows him the vanity of riches, and the stroke re-echoes with the voice," Set your affections on things above, not on things on the earth." Is his soul wrapt in care, while the world steals into his heart, under the mask of "necessary provision for a family? The Lord breaks successive schemes formed without his sanction, and makes his child turn from the engrossing of a passing world, to feed his best desires on the realities of eternity.

But how slight are these afflictions, compared with the agony which is experienced when the angel of