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awful slaughter continued, until night put an end to the work of blood! The next day it was carried on again. The soldiers were now joined by all the ruffians in the city, who, for the sake of plunder, entered every place where any Huguenot might have hidden himself; and if any one was found, he was slain, his body stript, and then cast into the river. In this way for five days the slaughter went on, until thousands had fallen in Paris by the sword, the

spear, and the bullet. Messengers were quickly sent by the Romanists to the various provinces and towns, commanding them to follow the example of Paris, in slaying all of the reformed religion.

At the town of Angiers, lived a man beloved for his virtue and learning, named Masson de Rivers, the pastor of the Protestant church. As soon as the king's messenger arrived in the town, he hastened towards the pastor's house, and found him in the garden. “I am

come to kill thee, by the king's command,” said he, showing his letter of authority. De Rivers declared his innocence of any offence; but, while he was offering a short prayer, and commending his spirit to God, he was shot through the body.

At Lyons, when the letters from the court were brought to Mandelot, the governor, he ordered, by sound of trumpet, that all Protestants should appear before him. They, without suspecting his design, obeyed the summons, when they were thrust into the city prisons. He th desired the soldiers to destroy them ; but they refused to direct their arms against men bound and suppliant at their feet. The governor then hired a number of the vilest men he could find, who, with chopping-knives and butchers' axes fell on the defenceless Huguenots, and, after first mangling their limbs for sport, then put an end to their lives. It is recorded, that so great was the slaughter, that the warm blood ran from under the gates of the prisons down the streets, until it mingled with the waters of the neighbouring river. Among those slain in this place were an aged man, named Francis Collut, and his two sons. When holding their holy lives, and the peace with which they met the most cruel deaths, were led to renounce former errors, and to inquire after the way of salvation through the Lord Jesus Christ.

Child's Companion.-J. H. C.

INGRATITUDE OF THE PROUD. THERE neither is nor ever was, any person remarkably ungrateful, who was not also insufferably proud ; nor any one proud, who was not equally ungrateful. Ingratitude overlooks all kindness ; and this is because pride makes it carry its head so high. Ingratitude is too base to return a kindness, and too proud to regard it. They feed nothing, they feed nobody, they clothe nobody, yet are high and stately, and look down upon all the world about them. Friendship consists properly in mutual offices, and a generous strife in alternate acts of kindness. But he who does a kindness to an ungrateful person, sets his seal to a flint, and sows his seed upon sand; upon the former he makes no impression, and from the latter finds no production.

DYING HINDU, THERE was a native convert employed by the Missionaries to read the Bible to the Hindus, whose name was Yanketsswammy. At his baptism he was called Thomas Kilpin. He married a young woman from a Christian orphan school, whose name was Lucy. They lived very happily together ; they had one little boy, whom they loved very much ; and never did father and mother seem more delighted with their child than were Thomas and Lucy with theirs.

Thomas used to go long journeys with the Missionary, under whose charge he was placed, and assist him in reading to the people, and very highly the Missionary regarded

but out in one of these journies, Thomas caught a violent cold. He hoped, and we all hoped, he would get better; but he became worse and worse, and in a few


months he was brought to his dying couch. He felt very deeply, when he saw his end approaching, that he must leave Lucy and his little boy.

1 shall never forget seeing him the day he died. Lucy sat weeping by him, with her beautiful child at her side. He looked at his wife with much tenderness, and said, “Do not cry, Lucy ; I am going to heaven. Oh! I am so happy ; but God, our God, will take care of you and our little boy; only keep close to him. Our Missionary and his wife will be father and mother to you ; but oh, Lucy, take care of your boy! Oh, bring him up for Jesus. Jesus makes me happy! Now, if I never had heard of him and loved him, I could not die so happy. Oh, Lucy, Lucy! never let our child worship idols ; bring him up for Jesus.” And thus, after saying some other delightful things, he fell asleep in Jesus. Dear young friends, will you not do all you can to send the Gospel to these heathen? You see it made a poor heathen man die happily, and it made him so earnest about the best interest of his little boy.


“Not to myself alone,”
The little opening flower transported cries-
"Not to myself alone I bud and bloom:
With fragrant breath the breezes I perfume,
And gladden all things with my rainbow dyes ;
The bee comes sipping every eventide,

His dainty fill;
The butterfly within my cup doth hide

From threatening ill."

"Not to myself alone,”
The circling star with honest pride doth boast-

“Not to myself alone I rise and set;
I write upon night's coronal of jet
His power and skill who formed our myriad host;
A friendly beacon at heaven's open gate,

I gem the sky,
That man might ne'er forget, in every fate,

His home on high.”

“Not to myself alone," The heavy-laden bee doth murmuring hum

“Not to myself alone from flower to flower,

I rove the wood, the garden, and the bower,
And to the hive at evening weary come ;
For man, for man the luscious food I pile

With busy care,
Content if this repay my toil-

A scanty share.

“Not to myself alone,” The soaring bird, with lofty pinion, sings

“Not to myself alone I raise my song ;

I cheer the drooping with my warbling tongue,
And bid the mourner lift faith's mighty wings;
I bid the hymnless churl my anthem learn,

And God adore ;
I call the worldling from his dross to turn,

And sing and soar.”

“Not to myself alone,” The streamlet whispers on its pebbly way“

“Not to myself alone I sparkling glide ;

I scatter health and life on every side,
And strew the field with herb and floweret gay.
I sing unto the common, bleak and bare,

My gladsome tune;
I sweeten and refresh the languid air

In droughty June."

“Not to myself alone,” O man, forget not thou, earth's honoured priest !

Its tongue, its soul, its life, its pulse, its heartIn earth's great chorus to sustain thy part; Chief of the guests at Love's ungrudging feast, Play not the niggard, spurn thy native clod,

And self disown;
Live to thy neighbour, live unto thy God,

“Not to thyself alone.”

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As the Sacred Scriptures were written under divine inspiration, by holy men who lived in what, to this part of the world, is the far-distant east-in the land of Judea and adjacent thereto-so many of the phrases which are used in the Scriptures allude to the peculiar customs which existed there, and some parts of the Word of God, which to some persons appear difficult, are easily explained by those who are acquainted with eastern usages.

The royal psalmist David, in the seventy-second psalmwhen referring, as it is believed, in the first place to his son Solomon, and then prophetically to our Lord Jesus Christ-says, “He shall have dominion also from sea to sea, and from the river to the ends of the earth. They that dwell in the wilderness shall bow before him, and his enemies shall lick the dust.” The meaning of the words, "and his enemies shall lick the dust,” may be clearly understood, by noticing the eastern modes of doing homage or giving honour to persons of distinction. On this subject Mr. Harmer has given several illustrations.

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