ONE Sunday, or saint's day, some years ago, the priest in the village of M., in the South of France, preached a sermon which made a lively impression upon his hearers. He had been hearing alarming reports of the evil work done by certain Protestants in the towns and villages of Southern France. They had sent about colporteurs, who sold Bibles and Testaments; they had hired halls in some of the large towns, in which they preached, not only to their Protestant neighbors, but also to misguided Roman Catholics, who strayed from their churches to hear these heretic preachers. Therefore, the priest thought it was time to sound a note of warning, though his own parishioners, in their mountain village, had never yet been invaded by any species of heretic.
“The Protestants," said the priest, in an awe-stricken voice, “are people raised up by the devil to mislead the faithful; and to drag them into eternal destruction. They are people who, even to look at, fill one with horror. Instead of having two eyes, like all good Christians, they have but one glaring eye, and that in the middle of their foreheads."
It was this last sentence which made a profound impression upon the village people. How terrible would it be to meet on some lonely road a monster such as the priest described! But yet it was unwise in the priest thus to describe the Protestants, for there were some, especially amongst the boys and young men of his congregation, who were thenceforward eagerly anxious to see such remarkable people. They had paid their halfpence sometimes at fairs to see two-headed lambs, or people who were fatter, or taller, or shorter than their neighbors, but to see a Protestant would be a sight far more wonderful and interesting.
Not long after, one of these lads went to live in the large town of Nice, and he immediately enquired if any Protestants were to be found there. Yes, there were a good many, and they had a church of their own, a “temple," they called it, to which they went in large numbers every Sunday. The young man was delighted to hear this.
The next Sunday he enquired the way to the Protestant church, and stationed himself outside the door. Alas, only good Catholics appeared to be going in, all—all had two eyes, and very common-place faces. He ventured at last to stop one of these harmless people, and enquired where he could see any Protestants, and whether this was really the Protestant church?
“Yes, certainly," said the man to whom he spoke; "and if you want to see Protestants you have only to go in, there are plenty of them inside."
Our friend went in, sat down, and began to scrutinize the many faces around. Meanwhile a man with two eyes went up into the pulpit, and read out of a book a few words, but they were wonderful words. For a moment the young man forgot the Protestants and began to listen. The preacher explained the words, and out of the fullness of his heart, and in the power of the Spirit of God, he preached Jesus Christ, and Him crucified. The young man went again and again to hear, and at last remained, when the sermon was over, to ask if there was salvation for him? for he saw and believed that Jesus had died for sinners. By this time he had learnt that the priest had been teaching him fables, and all the more did he wish to learn from those, who spoke to him of Jesus, the Way, the Truth, and the Life. He became a true disciple of the Lord Jesus, and could rejoice in knowing that He had saved him with an everlasting salvation. About this time he married, and during some years he faithfully served the Lord in the town of Nice. The climate being hot in summer, he sent his baby to be nursed in a mountain village, some twenty or thirty miles from Turin. The little girl was suddenly taken ill, and before any tidings could reach her parents, she died. According to the laws, the funeral could not be delayed till the parents arrived. The foster parents of the baby were Roman Catholics, as were all the people in the village, but they thought it would not be right to have the child buried by the priest, as her parents were Protestants. They sent, therefore, to Turin, to enquire for a Protestant pastor, who came at once. When the little coffin was lowered into the grave, the pastor prayed in a loud voice, giving thanks to the Lord Jesus that He had died for the lambs of His flock. And then, standing up, he preached the good tidings of salvation to the village people, who had crowded into the, cemetery. Such blessed words of love and grace were new to them, and when the pastor took his leave they implored him to come again and tell them more. The pastor did so, and now the village is counted amongst the Protestant villages of Italy, the church is a Protestant church, the priest is gone away, for none remained to listen to his masses.
But more than this, it is a village where not only Protestants are found, but living, rejoicing children of God. The father of the little girl whom the Lord had taken could and did rejoice, that, by means of her death, life had come to so many souls. He has lived since then in the service of his Lord, and now, in his old age, he is living in this town, where he helps forward the Lord's work by his prayers and sympathy, thanking and praising his God for leading him, in a way so strange and unlikely, to the streams of living water.
F. B.