and murder the poor unoffending Waldenses. Such was the treatment, varied by a few brief seasons of respite, which they experienced, for five long centuries, from the House of Savoy. We search the history of the world in vain for another series of tragedies equally terrible and as long continued. Not so bloody were the oppressions of the Jews by the Seleucidæ, not so barbarous were the persecutions of the early Christians by the Roman emperors. What claim, then, had the Dukes of Savoy upon the allegiance of the Waldenses? Did not obedience seem a crime, rebellion a duty? And yet although the Waldenses, when attacked, stood to their rights, and repelled force by force, ever, when the conflict closed, did they promptly return to their ancient allegiance.

We know of nothing to equal this save the attachment of the Scottish Covenanters to the House of Stuart. How far either or both would have been justified in declaring that, seeing their sovereigns had ceased to fulfil to them any one end of their office, they had ipso facto fallen from that office, we do not pretend to determine. Neither proceeded this length. The special offence charged against both was disloyalty. History, so far from

countenancing the charge, shews that both carried their loyalty to a chivalrous, we do not say faulty, length. But it is not unimportant to notice that this coincides with the character and position predicted of them. Prophecy, as we read it, had assigned to them a character strictly ecclesiastical. They were the remnant of the woman's seed, the two candlesticks standing before the God of the earth, the two witnesses. And, dissociated thus, the gospel's power was the better seen. It was to them instead of all other helps-instead of political organisation, instead of military training, instead of renown, of wealth, of glory. While the nations on the plains of Italy, with all these advantages, sank down into serfdom, the Waldenses remained free. The gospel made them, of simple peasants and herdsmen, heroes and patriots, and endued them with a life which five centuries of wars, and massacres, and woes could not extinguish.

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CHAPTER XI.

Valley of Bora-Janavel and his Exploits.

Janavel-His Character-First Assault of the Marquis di PianezzaJanavel and his Little Band-Their Heroic Defence of their Valley Falsehood of Pianezza - No Faith with Heretics Pianezza's Second Attack and Repulse-A Third AttackBravely Repulsed by Janavel-Death of a Persecutor-Greater Preparations for War-Massacre and Pillage of Rora-Pianezza's Letter-Janavel's Heroic Reply-A Chosen Instrument.

BUT from time to time among the Waldenses, as among the Jews of old, God raised up "mighty men of valour" to save His people. One of the most remarkable of these men was Janavel, commonly known as Captain Joshua Janavel, a native of this same Valley of Rora. From the accounts that have come down to us, he appears to have possessed all the qualities of a great military leader. He was a man of daring courage, of resolute purpose, and of venturous enterprise. He possessed the faculty, so essential in a commander, of mas

terly arrangement and skilful combination. He was fertile in resource, self-possessed in emergencies, quick to resolve, and prompt to execute. His devotion and energy, under God, were the means of mitigating somewhat the horrors of the massacre of 1655, and his heroism ultimately rolled back the tide of that great calamity, and made it recoil upon its authors. His name, while he lived, was a tower of strength to the Waldenses and a sound of terror to their foes.

The feats of valour performed by this man would fill a volume. It is only a passing notice that we can bestow upon his achievements. It was the morning of the 24th of April 1655, and this day was to commence a massacre which was destined to fill the Valleys with lamentation and woe, and to darken history with one of the blackest tragedies which its pages record. Five hundred ruffians were despatched by the Marquis di Pianezza to the Valley of Rora, to massacre in cold blood its peaceful, unoffending, and unsuspecting inhabitants. Ascending from the Valley of the Pelice, by much the same path as that by which we have now conducted the reader, they had gained the summit of the hill, and were already descending on the village

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of Rora, stealthily and swiftly, as a band of wolves might descend upon a sheepfold. Janavel, who had known weeks before that a storm was gathering, though he knew not when or where it would burst, was on the watch. He espied the troop, and truly guessed their errand. There was no time to be lost; a few minutes longer and not a man would be alive in Rora to carry tidings to the next commune of what had befallen it. What was to be done? Could Janavel, single-handed and alone, attack an army of five hundred men ? Would not that be madness? The hero-peasant of Rora did dare attack them. Janavel ascended the hill under shelter of its rocks and foliage; and on his way he induced six other peasants, as brave as himself, to join him. This heroic little band marched on till they were near the troop, then, hiding amid the bushes, they lay in ambush by the side of the path. The assailants came on, little suspecting the trap into which they were marching. Janavel and his men fired, and with so unerring an aim, that the foremost six soldiers fell dead. Reloading their pieces, and dexterously changing their position, they fired again, and with like effect: another little heap of slain blocked up