1 Jin's Gospel, and, again, in the first verse of his first epistle, there seems to be an inferential warrant in regarding the two "Words" as substantially equivalent. | In the two latter places "the Word" obviously names the Son of God; and in the former, if not critically dentical, it will be conceded to mean, substantially, the Truth, the life, the grace, of God in man-which is, in effect, what the Scriptures elsewhere assert, "Christ in so, the hope of glory." Himself has said, "I am the Treth." A very little reflection will show that a message from heaven-a set of doctrines, a code of truths, if construed to be the meaning of "the ingrafted Word" | -must be, as such and alone, both physiologically and scripturally inadequate to so marvellous a result as the change proposed, and must necessarily be inert, wanting the essential quality, not only of potency, but of adaptetion. Operating by and through the medium, it surely means the second Adam, the quickening Spirit "whose name is called THE WORD OF GOD”— the incorruptible Seed. This view of "the Word," as employed by St. James in the text quoted, is corroborated by reference to the exet counterpart of grafting to which he alludesmely, a kind of generation by an abnormal method, ari in Scripture called re-generation; the result of each being a new-begotten or renovated one, whether vegetable or human. If, then, as the Scriptures affirm, a sinner becomes a child of God by regeneration, he does als, as the Scripture affirms, by receiving the ingrafted Word; for "of his own will begat he us by the Word of truth," the result in each case being "one born again," “a new creature in Christ Jesus." Being born again, ret of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, by the Word of God, who liveth and abideth for ever." Do sot the terms "the Truth" "the Word," as ordinarily cnderstood, express simply the vehicle or instrument onveying the sum and substance, the very essence, of he gospel-Christ? There In the propagation of the human species there is no xample of anything answering to grafting, but of ordisary generation only; nor, in the propagation of the Aldren of God, as such, have we any example of ordiry generation, but only of regeneration, or, as we may ay, of grafting, with the single and peculiar exception the human birth of "Jesus, the Son of God." re, by fair induction, it may be affirmed that the riptural terms-" regeneration," "born again," "born God"-convey strictly, and only, the idea of renovation by a spiritual operation answering to the same Ling in horticulture, called grafting; as it is written: A new heart will I put within you," which undeniably dicates the free gift of the spiritual graft, germ, or incorruptible seed." The heart, the mainspring of Letion, is made new by its reception of the incorruptible red; faith being the receptive faculty of the soul-the and that accepts, the heart that embraces, "the uncakable gift." It is a confirmatory circumstance on the point under | consideration that in both of the two following oftquoted vital texts-vital alike theologically and to this analogy-the receiving stands as the correlate of the gift, which, though different in name in each text, must be identically the same, since in both cases, though differently expressed, the result of the reception is identically the same- "Receive with meekness the ingrafted Word which is able to save your souls." "As many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God." In ordinary generation, usually, the offspring partakes, by inheritance, of the constitutional peculiarities of both parents, and exhibits them in a greater or less degree. But, from the operation of tree-grafting, and of human regeneration, the results are characterized, alone, by the peculiarities of the scion and of "the ingrafted Word." "That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit." Man is regenerated and made a new man: the tree is regenerated and made a new tree. Both are radically renewed: both are ultimately conformed to the given standard of the renovating germ. In both cases human instrumentality is concerned in the outward and visible sign, the divine agency alone in the inward and spiritual grace-the vital power of true human conversion in one case, and the successful grafting of a tree in the other. III. APPARENT FAILURES, AND A CURIOUS COINCIDENCE. I. APPARENT FAILURES. A CORRESPONDENCE of disappointed hopes, in each of these parallel cases, is occasionally the common experience of both florist and divine. The usual painstaking methods are employed, and corresponding expectations are in both cases excited, and even encouraged for a time, by symptoms of apparent progress. But, alas! in some instances, after awhile altered symptoms set in, and too truly tell the tale that the root of the matter was lacking-no vital union had taken place; and as to the expected, and apparently new creatures, they wither away. Happily, the disappointment affects only the florist and the divine-not the divine Spirit, by whose will and power alone it is and must be that all vegetable, animal, and spiritual existences can have the opportunity to subsist, grow, or change. In either case we, the instruments, cannot tell "which shall prosper, this or that, or whether both shall be alike good," be it man or tree that is the object of solicitude. In both cases it may be said, It is not by human skill-" Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord of hosts." And as truly as it is written, "He is not a Jew who is one outwardly: neither is that circumcision which is outward in the flesh," so he alone is a Christ-born Christian who is one inwardly; and regeneration is that of the heart, in the spirit, and not in the letter: whose praise is not of men, but of God. "Every plant that my heavenly Father hath not planted shall be rooted up." II. A CURIOUS COINCIDENCE. Without magnifying into importance the following curious fact, we venture to give it as a singular coincidence of this analogy. In describing the process of budding it was stated that a twig is taken from an approved tree, and that a small portion of the bark, containing the germ or bud, is cut longitudinally from it, to be inserted within, and covered up by, the bark of the "stock" prepared to receive it; which preparation consists, in part, of two incisions in the bark, one longi enable the operator to loosen and open the bark just enough to allow him to slip the renovating bud within the loosened bark, which, then, with other aid, securely embraces the bud so inserted, thus forming literally, as well as ecclesiastically, a Crucifix." Each of these popular symbols-the cross and the crucifix-notwithstanding their absurd abuse by a venal superstition, possesses, as every true Christian heart must feel, a deeply | devout and soul-affecting aspect; and, in relation to "Nature's System of Divinity," very suggestive. France and its Reformation. XIX. THE SECOND AND THIRD HUGUENOT WARS-CATHERINE DE MEDICI AND THE DUKE OF ALVA AT BAYONNE. BY THE REV. J. A. WYLIE, LL.D. The pacification of Amboise satisfactory to neither Protestants nor Catholics-Disregarded by both-Catherine de Med comes to the front-The dance of Death in the Louvre-Catherine's qualities- What shall her policy be ?—The sword #i the olive branch? — The deadly nightshade held out-Charles IX.—His training and character—A royal progress-b object-Iconoclast outrages-Charles IX. deeply moved― Catherine gives audience to the envoys of the Duke of Sava and the Pope-The royal party arrive at Bayonne-Interviews between Catherine and the Duke of Alva-A foreshad ing of St. Bartholomew—The second Huguenot war—Its one battle—A peace which is not peace—Outbreak of the third Huguenot war-An incident-The Protestant chiefs assemble at Rochelle-They are joined by the Queen of Navarrt and the Prince of Bearn-Battle of Jarnac-Defeat and despondency of the Protestants-Heroism of Jeanne D'NU The disaster of Montcontour-A dark night closes in over Protestantism—Misfortunes of Coligny—His suliwag of soul. ment HE pacification of Amboise closed the That arrangefirst Huguenot war. was satisfactory to neither party. The Protestants it did not content; nor ought it, seeing, so far as the important matter of their rights was concerned, it was not an advance, but a retrogression. To fight and gain successes in the field, and yet lose ground in diplomacy, was no agreeable thought. Yet so stood the matter; for the pacification of Amboise actually took away some of the privileges which the Edict of January had accorded. The latter edict permitted to the Protestants the celebration of their worship in all parts of France; but the arrangement come to at Amboise limited the freedom of Protestant worship to a certain class of the nobles and a few of the privileged cities. The body of the Huguenots felt it hard to understand the principle of this arrangement; and we cannot help sympathizing with them. If the principle was a wrong one, as the large re strictions placed upon it seemed to imply, wig concede it at all? But if it was right-why clearly, it ought to have been given, not to class only, but to the whole body of the nation and Protestant worship ought to have been mad lawful, not in a few cities only, but in all th towns of France. Further, the Amboise arrange ment was obviously impracticable: it was vair to think that it could or would be observed Were the vast majority of the Protestants in France to abstain from social worship? They must do so under the present law, or encounte the immense inconvenience and toil of travelli some fifty or a hundred miles to a privileged city True, the law accorded them the privilege-whic it could not well take from them-of cherishin their sentiments in their own hearts, and of ope ing their lips at their own firesides; but t moment they crossed the threshold of their dwel. ings, and entered the street or the market-pla they dared not, by word or sign, let it be know that they were Protestants. itself ridiculous courts contempt and stimulates to disobedience. Nor was the pacification of Amboise more to the taste of the Romanists. The concessions it made to the Huguenots, miserable though they were, and accompanied by limitations which made them a mockery, were yet, in the opinion of zealous Papists, too large to be made to men to whom it was sinful to make any concessions at all. The measure was simply unworkable. Perhaps it never was intended to be anything else. In those parts where they were numerous, the Protestants disregarded it, holding their worshipping assemblies in public; and the Catholics did what they could-sometimes by underhand means, and sometimes by open violence—to render its provisions nugatory. Neither party accepted the arrangement as a final one. Both felt that they must yet look each ther in the face on the battle-field; but the Romanists were not ready to unsheathe the sword, and so for a brief space there was quiet. If not peace, there was a suspension of hostilities. A law that makes | annihilate. DEATH had ever been the steady and faithful ally of this extraordinary woman. Often had he visited the Louvre since the daughter of the house of Medici came to live under its roof; and each visit had advanced the Florentine a stage on her way to power. First, the death of the Dauphin-who left no child-opened her way to the throne. Then the death of her father-inlaw, Francis I., placed her on that throne by the side of Henry II. She had the crown, but not yet the kingdom; for the mistress-Diana of Poitiers-more than divided the influence which ought to have been Catherine's as the wife. The death of her husband took that humiliating impediment out of her way; but Mary Stuart, the niece of the Guises, and the wife of the now reigning monarch, profited by the imbecility through which Catherine had hoped to govern. The death of Francis II., only seventeen short months after he had ascended the throne, removed this obstacle, as it had done every previous one; but once more there stood up another, and Catherine had still to wait. Now it was that the Triumvirate rose and grasped with powerful hand the direction of France. Was the patience of the Italian woman to be always baulked? No : Death came again to her help. The fortune of battle and the pistol of the assassin rid her of the Triumvirate. The Duke of Guise was dead: rival to her power there no longer existed. The way so long barred was open now, and Catherine boldly placed herself at the head of affairs; and this position she continued to hold, with increasing calamity to France and deepening infamy to herself, till almost her last hour. It was now that the star of Catherine de Medici fairly rose into the ascendant. The clouds which had hitherto obscured its lustre were now all dispelled, and it blazed balefully forth in the firmament of France. That woman had waited thirty years; for so long was it since, borne over the waters of the Mediterranean in the gaily-decked galleys of Pisa, she had entered the port of Marseilles, amid the roar of cannon and the shouts of assembled thousands, to give her hand in marriage to the second son of the King of France. She was then a girl of sixteen, radiant as the country from which she came her eyes all fire, her face all smiles, a strange witchery in her every look and movement; but in contrast with these fascinations of person was her soul, which was encompassed with a gloomy superstition, which might more fittingly be styled a necromancy than a faith. She came with a determined purpose of making the proud realm on which she had just stepped bow to her will and minister to her pleasures, although it should be by sinking it into the depth of pollution or drowning it in an ocean of blood. For thirty years had she waited, foreseeing the goal afar off, and patiently bending to obstacles she had not the power summarily to This long delay, although it appeared to be adverse, was in reality in favour of the queen-mother. If it gave her power late, it gave it her very securely. When her hour at last came, it found her in the full maturity of her powers. She had had time to study, not only individual men, but all the parties into which France was divided. She had a perfect comprehension of the genius and temper of the nation. Consummate mistress of an art not difficult of attainment to any Italian-the art of dissembling-with an admirable intellect for intrigue, with sense enough not to scheme too finely, and with a patience long trained in the school of waiting, and so not likely to hurry on measures till they were fully ripe, it was hardly | convenient moment, which future years might possible but that the daughter of the Medici | bring, she would be able to fall upon them and would show herself equal to any emergency, and would leave behind her a monument which should tell the France of after-times that she had once governed it. Standing as she now did on the summit, it was natural that Catherine should look around her, and warily choose the part she was to play. She had outlived all her rivals at court, and the Huguenots were now the only party she had to fear. What policy should she adopt towards them? Should she, after the example of the Guises, continue to pursue them with the sword, or should she hold out to them the olive-branch of peace? This was a question at that hour not easily answered. Catherine felt that she never could be one with the Huguenots. That would imply a breach with all the traditions of her house and a change in the whole habits of her life which was not to be thought of. Nor could she permit France to embrace the Protestant creed; for the country would thus descend in the scale of nations, and would embroil itself in a war with Italy and Spain. But, indeed, France showed no great desire to complicate the path of Catherine by becoming Protestant. But, on the other side, there were several serious considerations which had to be looked at. The Huguenots were a powerful party: their faith was spreading in France; their counsels were guided and their armies were led by the men of the greatest character and intellect in the nation. Moreover, they had friends in Germany and England who were not likely to look quietly on and see them driven to the wall. To continue the war seemed very inadvisable. Catherine had now no general able to cope with Coligny since the duke's death, and it was uncertain on which side victory might ultimately declare itself. The Huguenot army was inferior in numbers to that of the Catholics, but it surpassed it in bravery, in devotion, and discipline; and the longer the conflict lasted, the greater were the numbers that flocked to the Huguenot standard. It was tolerably clear that Catherine must conciliate the Protestants; yet all the while she must labour to diminish their numbers, weaken their influence, curtail their privileges, in the hope that at some cut them off, either by sudden war or by sudden Her first care was to mould her son, Charles IX.. into her own likeness, and fit him for being an instrument, pliant and expert, for her purposes. Intellectually he was superior to his brother, Francis II., who during his short reigu had been treated by both wife and mother as an imbecile, and when dead was buried like a pauper. Charles IX is said to have discovered something of that lite rary taste and æsthetic appreciation which were the redeeming features in the character of his grandfather, Francis I. In happier circumstances, he might have become a patron of the arts, and have found scope for his fitful energy in the harmless pursuits of the hunting-field; but what manly grace or noble quality could flourish in an air so fetid as that of the Louvre? The atmosphere in which he grew up was foul with cor ruption, impiety, and blood. To fawn on those he mortally disliked, to cover bitter thoughts with sweet smiles, and to caress till ready to strike, were the unmanly and unkingly virtues in which Charles was trained. His mother sent all the way to her own native city of Florence for a man to superintend the education of the princeAlbert Gondi, afterwards created Duke of Retz. Of this man, the historian Brantome has drawn the following character: "Cunning, corrupt, a liar, a great dissembler, swearing and denying God like a sergeant." Under such a teacher, it is not difficult to conceive what the pupil would become: by no chance could he contract the slightest taint of virtue or honour. What a spectacle is this which we are contemplating! At the head of a great nation is a woman without moral principle, without human pity, without shame a very tigress, and she is rearing her son as the tigress rears her cub. Unhappy France!-what a dark future begins to project across thee its shadow! In the summer of 1565 Catherine and her son made a royal progress through France. A brilliant retinue, composed of the princes of the blood, the great officers of state, the lords and ladies of the court-the dimness of their virtues concealed beneath the splendour of their robes followed in the train of the queen-mother and the royal scion. The wondering provinces sent cut their inhabitants in thousands to gaze on the splendid cavalcade, as it swept, comet-like, past them. This progress enabled Catherine to judge for herself of the relative strength of the two parties in her dominions, and to shape her measures accordingly. Onward she went from province to province, and from city to city, scattering around her, prodigally, yet judiciously, smiles, promises, and frowns; and who knew so well as she when to be gracious, and when to affect a just and stern displeasure? In those places where the Protestants had avenged upon the stone images the outrages which the Catholics had committed upon living men, Catherine took care to intimate emphatically her disapproval. Her piety was hurt at the sight of the demolition of objects devoted to sacred uses. She took especial care that her son's attention should be drawn to these affecting mementoes of Huguenot iconoclast zeal. In some parts monasteries demolished, crosses overturned, images mutilated, offered a spectacle exceedingly depressing to pious souls, and over which the devout and tender-hearted daughter of the Medici could scarcely refrain from shedding tears. How detestable the nature of that religion -so was the king taught to view the matter— which could prompt to acts so atrocious and impious! He was filled with horror as he gazed on the rueful spectacle. He felt that his kingdom had been polluted, and he trembled—not with a well-feigned terror like his mother, but a real dread-lest God, who had been affronted by these daring acts of sacrilege, should smite France with judgment; for in that age stone statues and crosses were religion, and not divine precepts or | moral virtues. moral virtues. The impression made upon the mind of the young king, especially in the southern provinces, where it seemed as if this impiety had reached its climax in a general sack of holy buildings and furniture, was never, it is said, forgotten by him. It is believed to have inspired his policy in after-years. The queen-mother had another object in view in the progress she was now making. It enabled her, without attracting observation, to gather the sentiments of the neighbouring sovereigns on the great question of the age, even Protestantism, and to come to a common understanding with them respecting the measures to be adopted for its suppression. The kings of the earth were "plotting against the Lord and his anointed;" and although willingly submitting to the cords with which the King of the Seven Hills had bound them, they were seeking how they might break the bands of that King whom God hath set upon the holy hill of Zion. The great ones of the earth did not understand the Reformation, and trembled before it. A power which the sword could slay would have caused them little uneasiness; but a power which had been smitten with the sword, which had been trodden down by armies, which had been burned at the stake, but which refused to die,-a power which, the oftener it was defeated the mightier it became, which started up anew to the confusion of its enemies from what appeared to be its grave, was a new thing in the earth. There was a mystery |