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One little lamp, hanging from the top of the room, but high above their reach (for the rooms in those old castles are in general very lofty), was all the light they had by this light they could just distinguish a large grated window, a fire-place, a table, some chairs, and two beds placed in different corners of the room. However, the unhappy family offered not to go near the beds; but the marquis and marchioness, throwing themselves on the ground, began to rail at each other, and at the king, and even at God. Poor Henri endeavoured to sooth and comfort them, begging them to forgive each other, and not to make God more angry; but they pushed him from them, like people in a phrensy, saying, 'Go, go! would to God you were in your grave with your brother Theodore !'--Henry withdrew to a distance, and, kneeling down in a dark part of the room, he continued to pray for his poor father and mother; till, being quite weary, he fell fast asleep on the floor.

"When Henri awoke he was surprised to find it was daylight: he sat up and looked round him on the prisonroom; it was a large and airy room, receiving light from a window strongly grated with iron. In two corners of the room were two old-fashioned, but clean and comfortable looking beds; opposite the beds were a chimney-piece, and hearth for burning wood; and several old-fashioned chairs and a table stood against the wall; there were also in the room two doors, which led into small closets.

"Henri's poor father and mother had fallen asleep on the floor, after having wearied themselves with their violent grief; the marquis had made a pillow of his cloak, and the marchioness of a small bundle which she had brought in her hand out of the carriage. Henri looked at them till his eyes were full of tears; they looked pale and sorrowful even in their sleep. He got up gently, for fear of disturbing his poor parents, and went to the window; the air from the opposite hill blew sweet and fresh in at the casement; it reminded Henri of the air which he used to breathe in Claude's cottage. The window was exceedingly high from the court of the castle; so that the little village below, and the opposite green hill, with its cottages, and flocks, and herds, were all to be seen from thence above the walls of the court. 'What reason have we to be thankful to God!' said Henri: 'I was afraid my poor father might

be shut down in a dismal vault, without light and fresh air. If the governor of the castle will but allow us to stay here, and give us only bread and water, we may be happy and I have my little Bible, and my Book of Martyrs. O that my dear parents would study this little precious Bible! how happy might we still be! happier far than we were at Paris! Blessed affliction, I should then say, which brought my poor father and mother to God!'

"While Henri stood at the window, he heard some one unbar the door; and an old man came in with a basket, in which was a comfortable breakfast. 'I have orders,' said he, from my lord the governor, to give you every thing which is convenient. 'God bless your lord!' said Henri: and he begged the old man to return his thanks to him. I shall come again presently,' said the old man, and bring you the things which you brought with you in the carriage.' Your lord the governor is a good man,' said Henri: Heaven bless him!' 'My lord fears God,' said the old man; your noble father will but make himself contented, and not try to get away, he will have nothing to complain of here and you would do well to tell him so. My young gentleman, excuse an old man for giving his advice. Henri went up to the old man, and taking his hand, thanked him for his kindness.

and if

"When the old man was gone, Henri, full of joy and thankfulness to God, began to take the things out of the basket, and to set them in order upon the table; and now Henri found the use of having been brought up to wait upon himself, and upon others: he soon set out the little table in the neatest way, and set a chair for each of his parents; and all this so quietly, that the poor marquis and marchioness did not awake till he had done. The marchioness first opened her eyes, and looked round her. Henri ran to her, and, kissing her, said, 'Dear mother, get up, and join with me in praising God; see what comforts God has prepared for us! We have fallen into good hands: look round on this room; how light, how airy, and how pleasant it is!' Henri then told her all the kindness of the governor, and showed her the breakfast prepared for them; but she still looked sullen and unthankful, and began to blame the marquis, as he lay asleep, as the cause of all her afflictions. 6 Oh, mother! dear mother!' said Henri,

vexed, this is wrong, very wrong: now is not a time to find fault with each other: we are all sinners; we have all done wrong. Look at my poor father; how pale he looks, and how he sighs in his sleep! You once loved him, dear mother; oh! now love him again, and comfort him in his trouble.'

"In this manner Henri talked to his mother till she broke out into tears, and putting her arms round Henri's neck, 'My child, my Henri,' she said, 'you are too good for me!' Yet still Henri could not persuade her to take any breakfast: she placed herself in a chair in a corner of the room, and, leaning her head upon her hands, continued crying without ceasing.

"When the marquis awoke, Henri endeavoured to comfort him as he had done his mother: the marquis embraced him, and called him his beloved child, and only comfort; but he complained that he was ill, and put his hand to his head. Henri brought him a cup of coffee, which he made him drink; and the old man coming in with the linen, and other things, which had been brought from Paris, they put some clean linen on the marquis, and the old man and Henri assisted him to bed. The marquis continued to get worse, and before night he was in a violent fever. This fever continued many days, and brought him very near to his death. While this illness lasted, Henri never left him; and the governor of the castle not only provided him with every thing he wanted, but brought a doctor from the village to see him.

"For many days the poor marquis did not seem to know any thing that passed, or to know where he was, or who was with him, but seemed in great horror of mind, expressing great dread of death; but when his fever left him, though he was very weak, he recovered his recollection, and expressed himself very thankful for the kindness he had received, particularly from the governor and the doctor. As to Henri, he kissed him often, and could not bear him to leave him for a moment. It was lovely to see how Henri watched by his poor father, and how he talked to him; sometimes soothing and comforting, and sometimes giving him descriptions of the happy manner in which he used to live in Claude's cottage: And all this happiness, dear father,' he would say, ' came from our being religious: for all the ways of religion are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths

are peace.' 'Claude and Maria,' said the marquis one day to Henri, 'were very good people; they always led innocent lives: they had no sins to trouble their consciences, therefore they were happy; but I have many evil actions to remember, Henri. If religion is true, and there is a place of punishment in the next world, I must be miserable: I dare not think of it, and should be sorry to believe it.' 'Oh, dear father,' said Henri, how you mistake the nature of religion! Our dear Saviour came to save sinners, not faultless beings: he came to cure the sick, and heal the broken-hearted. If you have been a sinner, dear father, you are such a one as our Saviour came to seek. Do, dear father, let me read the Bible to you. I have got a little Bible; and I will, if you please, read a little to you every day, as you can bear it: and then you will be able yourself to judge from this holy Book, that in the eyes of God all men are miserable sinners; and that it was on this account that God sent his Son, that through faith in him they might be saved.'

"The marquis did not refuse to hear Henri read: accordingly, every day this pious son used to read certain portions of Scripture to his father, choosing those parts first which showed man's utter wickedness, and want of power to save himself; and afterward, those parts which set forth what had been contrived of God for man's salvation. The marquis having nothing else to take his attention-no cards, no wine, no gay companions and being still confined by weakness to his bed, often lay for many hours listening to the holy Word of God.-At first, as he afterward owned, he had no pleasure in it, and would rather have avoided hearing it; but how could he refuse his darling son, when he begged him to hear a little, only a little more?

"In the mean time, the marchioness appeared sullen, proud, and unforgiving: she seldom came near her husband, but sometimes spent the day in crying and lamenting herself, and sometimes in looking over the few things which she had brought with her from Paris. The governor of the castle, seeing her so miserable, told her, that he had no orders from the king to keep her or her son in confinement, and that she had liberty to depart when she pleased, and to take her son with her: but Henri would not hear of leaving his poor

father, and used all his endeavours to persuade his mother to stay.

"When the marquis was first able to leave his bed, and sit in his chair opposite the window, Henri was very happy: he brought him clean linen, and assisted him to dress; and when he had led him to his chair, he set the table before him, and arranged upon it, as neatly as he could, the little dinner which the old man had brought in the basket, with a bottle of weak but pleasant wine, which the governor had sent him. 'Dear father,' said Henri, You begin to look well: you look even better than you did when you were at Paris. Oh! if you could but learn to love and fear God, you might now be happier than ever you were in all your life; and we might all be happy, if my poor mother would but come to you, and love you as she used to do. Oh! come, dear mother,' added Henri, going up to her, and taking her hand; come to my father, come to my poor father: you loved him once; love him again.' In this manner Henri begged and entreated his mother to be reconciled to his father. The marchioness at first seemed obstinate: but at last she was overcome; and running to her husband, put her arms round his neck and kissed him affectionately; while he, embracing her, called her his beloved wife, his own Adelaide. This little family then sat down to their dinner, enjoying the lovely prospect, and the soft and delightful breezes from the opposite hill; and after they had dined, Henri sang to his parents some of the sweet hymns he had learned when living in the valleys of Piedmont.

"Henri had done a great work; he had made peace between his father and his mother: and now he saw, with great delight, his poor father gaining strength daily; and though sometimes full of sorrow, yet, upon the whole, composed, and never breaking out in blasphemous words. Henri used to lay his Bible, and Book of Martyrs, on the table, by his father; the marquis sometimes took up one, and sometimes another, and would read awhile; and then, laying them down, sit in a thoughtful manner for some time. All these things pleased Henri; and he believed that God had already heard his prayer, and begun to change his father's heart. "About this time the governor of the castle invited Henri to dine with him. Henri was much pleased with the governor, who received him kindly, and took him