THE MASSACRE OF PROTESTANTS IN PARIS. THREE hundred years ago the Protestants and Papists of France were contending for the mastery. Many men in high stations took part with the Protestants, who were called Huguenots. Among these was Admiral, we should say General, Coligny. But the Papists were the most powerful; and after defeating the Protestants in a battle, they laid a plan for exterminating them. Professing a desire for reconciliation and peace, they invited the Protestants to Paris to witness a royal wedding; and it was within two or three days of this event, that the horrid plot, as described below, was carried out in all its bloody details. On Friday, the 22nd of August, 1572, the Admiral de Coligny, returning from the Louvre, was attacked and wounded, but not mortally. No time was now to be lost, as the alarmed Protestants were beginning to quit Paris. Accordingly, while pretending the utmost horror at the crime which had been committed, and their resolution to punish it, the king and the queen-mother were consulting what ought to be done. The following was the plan resolved upon on Saturday evening: To-morrow, Sunday, the 24th of August, was the feast of St. Bartholomew, and with the earliest dawn of that day was to be commenced a general massacre of the Protestants, with the exception of the King of Navarre, the Prince of Condé, and one or two others; the first victim to be Admiral de Coligny. The signal was to be the ringing of the great bell of St. Germain l'Auxerrois. No sooner was the massacre resolved upon, than all the necessary arrangements were made for carrying it out. On Sunday morning, as early as two o'clock, the appointed signal was made, and the massacre commenced. As had been agreed on, Admiral de Coligny, already wounded, was the first person attacked. The Duke of Guise, with a number of attendants, rushed to his house; the doors were broken open, and two men entering the chamber of the admiral, who had been awakened by the noise, despatched him with many wounds. His body was thrown out at the window, that Guise and his companions might be convinced that the work was done. The Duke wiped the blood from the dead man's face, the better to recognise him, and then ordered his head to be cut off. Meanwhile, in all parts of the city the work of blood was proceeding. The bells of all the churches were ringing in answer to that of St. Germain l'Auxerrois, and the whole population was aroused. Musket and pistol-shots were heard in every direction; sometimes in continuous discharges, as if companies of soldiers were firing upon a crowd. Lights were placed in the windows of the houses in which Catholics resided; and these so illumined the streets, that the fugitive Huguenots had no chance of escaping. Bands of murderers paraded the streets, with their right sleeves tucked up, and white crosses in their hats butchering such Huguenots as they met, and breaking into every house in which a Huguenot was known or suspected to lodge. Priests carrying crucifixes were seen among the assassins, urging them on with fanatical exclamations, while Guise and other leaders rode along the streets, superintending the massacre, and ordering the mob not to spare their blows. The city resounded with howlings and cries, heard through the rattle of the firearms and the yellings of the populace, now drunk with blood. When daylight came, awful sights presented themselves-streets strewed with corpses, which men were busy dragging away to the river, walls and doors all besprent with blood, headless bodies hanging out at windows, and crowds of wretches swaggering along the streets on the hunt for Huguenots. For a whole week the massacre was continued, slackening, however, after the first three days-partly because most of the Huguenots had by that time been killed, partly because an order was then issued to desist. By the most moderate computation, upwards of sixty thousand persons were butchered, including those who were put to death in the provinces to which the massacre extended; and among those sixty thousand were upwards of seven hundred of rank and distinction among the Huguenots. Some remarkable escapes were made during the massacre; and one of these we must relate. A son of a Protestant nobleman, eleven years of age, thus describes what happened to him on the night of St. Bartholomew:-"I was in bed, and awakened from sleep three hours after midnight by the sound of all the bells, and the confused cries of the populace. My tutor, St. Julian, with my valetde-chambre, went hastily out to know the cause; and I never afterwards heard of these two men, who without doubt were amongst the first that were sacrificed to the public fury. I con. tinued alone in my chamber, dressing myself, when in a few moments I saw my landlord enter pale, and in the utmost agitation; he was of the reformed religion, and having learned what the matter was, had consented to go to mass to save his life, and preserve his house from being pillaged. He came to persuade me to do the same, and to take me with him. I did not think proper to follow him, but resolved to try if I could gain the college of Burgundy, where I had studied, though the great distance between the house where I then was and the college made the attempt very dangerous. Having disguised myself in a scholar's gown, I put a large prayer-book under my arm, and went into the street. I was seized with horror inexpressible at the sight of the furious murderers, who, running from all parts, forced open the houses, and cried aloud, Kill, kill; massacre the Huguenots!' The blood which I saw shed before my eyes doubled my terror. I fell into the midst of a body of guards; they stopped me, interrogated me, and were beginning to use me ill, when, happily for me, the book which I carried was perceived, and served me for a passport. Twice after this I fell into the same danger, from which I extricated myself with the same good fortune. At length I arrived at the college of Burgundy, where a still greater danger awaited me. The porter twice refused me admission, and I continued standing in the middle of the street, at the mercy of the furious murderers, whose numbers increased every moment, when it came into my head to ask for La Faye, the principal of the college, a good man, by whom I was tenderly beloved. The porter, prevailed upon by some small pieces of money which I put into his hand, admitted me; and my friend carried me to his apartment, where two inhuman priests wanted to force me from him, that they might cut me in pieces, saying the order was not to spare even infants at the breast. All the good man could do was to conduct me privately to a distant chamber, where he locked me up. Here I was confined three days, uncertain of my destiny, and saw no one but a servant of my friend's, who came from time to time and brought me food." At the end of three days the poor boy, known afterwards as the famous Duke of Sully, minister and bosom friend of Henry IV., was released. THE MARTYR'S DEATH-SONG. SING with me sing with me! Sing with me! sing with me! Sing with me! sing with me! WHEN the dreadful mutiny broke out in India, the rebel native soldiers entered Delhi, and murdered all the Europeans they could find. Among these was Mr. Mackay, a baptist missionary from England. Since the suppression of the rebellion and the restoration of order, Mr. Smith has occupied this important station, where he is meeting with, we might say, unexpected success, and another missionary, Mr. Broadway, has now joined him. Mr. Smith says: "I am thankful to say that in Delhi we are making steady progress. Crowds listen daily to the gospel, and though not so many as formerly, yet numbers visit me for conversation. My four in |