which had been fixed upon for perpetrating the basest breach of hospitality, and the most extensive cold-blooded massacre which the world had ever known. The signal for commencing this slaughter was the ringing of the bells of St. Germain l'Auxerrois for matins. The hour appointed by the church for the first daily services of God, was thus chosen by its members for breaking the most stringent of the divine commands. Midnight had scarcely turned-the poor Huguenot slept through the accustomed sound of that early bell-silence and darkness seemed to guard his rest-but only for a few seconds; hurried steps ascended the staircaselights flashed through the panels of the door, and it was violently opened. The work of death proceeded at the same moment in a thousand different chambers; alarm bells rung in all parts of the city; and the tocsin of the palace sounded strong and full to animate each assassin at his work. The corpse of Coligni was cast from the window, and the bravest and best of his party were similarly slaughtered and dishonoured. On the eve of St. Bartholomew, orders had been sent to the governors of provinces to exterminate the Protestants; and, during the two or three days to which the mas sacre was prolonged, it is variously computed that 30,000, 70,000, and 100,000 perished. Remember, reader, that under whatever guise or name such deeds as these are committed, Christianity never sanctions them; and when politically viewed, as the work of priestcraft or of regal ambition, they are found universally to fail in the object for which they were intended. Cruelty never stifled opinion, and is apt to create a reaction of fearful atrocity: if, therefore, you cannot convince by reason and kindness, you had better let your neighbour remain the ignorant fool which you think him, lest you drive him by persecution to become a savage, who will turn and rend you at the first opportunity. * Notwithstanding the nursery couplets— 66 Gay go up and gay go down, To ring the bells of London town," &c.* * We do not see these couplets in the modern library of "Young England;" and therefore insert them in full, so far as we know them, lest an old favourite should be altogether lost to the rising generation : Gay go up and gay go down, To ring the bells of London town. Halfpence and farthings, Say the bells of St. Martin's. Oranges and lemons, Say the bells of St. Clement's. which might lead one to expect that London and its environs had peals more eloquent and musical than all the world beside, we are not surprised that poets have preferred to sing~ "How soft the music of those village bells," and that the bells of the metropolis have seldom found a champion to proclaim their euphony and excellence. That many of them are excellent, there can be no doubt; we only complain that they are rarely heard at all-and much more rarely to advantage. We have known London well in our day, and the peals of Stepney, Bow, Shoreditch, and many other old and celebrated Pancakes and fritters, Say the bells of St. Peter's. Two sticks and an apple, Say the bells of Whitechapel. Kettles and pans, Say the bells of St. Anne's. You owe me ten shillings, Say the bells of St. Helen's. When will you pay me? Say the bells of Old Bailey. When I grow rich, Say the bells of Shoreditch. Pray when will that be? I am sure I don't know, churches of that locality, have been as familiar to us as household words; but, to speak generally, we think that their best effect is lost in the tumult and distraction of the busy streets. The two grimy figures* in the black recess of old St. Dunstan's tower-the wonder of our childish senses-are, alas! altogether gone. How often have we lingered shame-faced in their neighbourhood for five minutes and more, until, with arms and hammers mysteriously upraised, they struck their quarter or half-hour chimes. *The clock and figures were purchased by the late Marquis of Hertford, and removed to his villa in the Regent's Park, where they probably still remain. Occasionally, also, we have heard in our boat on the broad Thames, on fine summer evenings, while sundry craft moved silently at a distance by, and nothing else was audible save that "On the ear dropp'd the light drip of the suspended oar," as we paused in our rowing, a clanging peal from the Chelsea side of the river; and again, as we passed old Lambeth, it became evident that the ringers were practising on the Surrey shore : "A tuneful challenge rings from either side Of Thames' fair banks,'" and the tones came to us sweetly mellowed by the element on which we floated in fascinated reverie. These are real and pleasing reminiscences; and on Sunday the sweet effect of bells is naturally much heightened "The cheerful Sabbath bells, wherever heard, Strike pleasant on the sense, most like the voice But it is in the country where everything harmonizes, rather than in London, that we most delight to hear them. All the surrounding features are there in perfect unison. The cowslip-painted fields, streaked with narrow paths converging to the church-those old ways by which from time |