one else was the secret of enamelling baked clay then known. No sooner, therefore, did he hear of Palissy's arrest, than he asked and obtained his pardon from Catherine de Medici. Further, to secure his safety for the future, and release him from provincial jurisdiction, he was appointed Inventor of Rustic Figures to the King and the Constable of France. He was, therefore, allowed to return quietly to his ruined workshop, and resume his labours at his furnace.

But he was not destined to end his days in the little town that had witnessed his early struggles and privations. In 1565, he was summoned to Paris by Queen Catherine, who required his services for the new palace of the Tuileries, which she proposed to build.

Here, generally known as Master Bernard, the poor potter,' and universally acknowledged to be a man of acute wit and vigorous understanding,' many peaceful years of Palissy's life were passed. Although openly avowing himself a Huguenot,' and ever zealous in following the new form of worship, he escaped the massacre of St. Bartholomew, which occurred when he was about sixty-five years of age. Ever anxious, as he himself tells us, to take heed not to abuse the gifts of God, and hide his talent in the earth,' because it is also written, that, better is the fool who hides his folly, than the wise man who conceals his wisdom,' Palissy employed nearly ten years of his life in Paris, from 1575 to 1584, in giving a course of Lectures on Natural History. These he illustrated, as it were, from a cabinet of natural objects, chiefly collected by himself; and men of learning and science flocked to listen to the simple

potter, the self-educated professor, the true architect of his own fortunes.

It seems strange, indeed, that even the cruelty of fanaticism-a cruelty invariably more remorseless than all others-could not leave the old man to end his few remaining years in peace! But it was insatiable. And Master Bernard,' having refused to renounce his form of worship, in accordance with the king's decree, was, in 1585, seized and sent to the Bastille.

Palissy was seventy-nine years of age at this time. Denied the consolations of his religion, shut out from the sight of that nature-which, from his earliest days, had been so great a source of enjoyment to him -he passed four long weary years in prison. His captivity was shared by two young companions, whose names should be written in letters of gold— the daughters of Jacques Foucaud.

Encouraging each other to suffer death with fortitude rather than sacrifice the truth, they awaited their doom with cheerful resignation. Their martyrdom did not tarry long in coming.

In 1588, Henry III., then King of France, finding he could no longer withstand the clamour for Palissy's execution, and reluctant to sacrifice the old potter, whom he had known and respected from his boyhood, visited him in prison.

'My poor Master Bernard,' said the King, 'I am so pressed by the Guise party and my people, that I have been compelled, in spite of myself, to imprison these two poor women and you. They must be burnt to-morrow; and you too, if you will not be converted.' Sire,' replied the fearless old man, 'you have often

said that you feel pity for me; but it is I who pity you; who have said, "I am compelled." That is not speaking like a king! These girls and I, who have part in the kingdom of heaven, we will teach you to talk royally. The Guisarts, all your people, and yourself, cannot compel a potter to bow down to images of clay!'

Not many months afterwards, the two fair girls were led to the stake, singing praises to God, as they received their crowns of martyrdom. A year later, in 1559, in his eighty-first year, Bernard Palissy, the Potter, died in the Bastille.

F

66

MACAULAY,

THE GREAT HISTORIAN.

THERE

HERE are many ways of doing our best, as the reader of this volume will know. One man struggles against the adverse circumstances of his birth-poverty and early neglect; another cultivates his mind, in spite of a meagre education, a want of books, or the necessity of devoting most of his time to earning his daily bread; a cobbler has worked mathematical problems on strips of leather, while employed on his last; a ploughman, treading the heavy furrow and pressing the share into the bosom of the earth, has meditated on the heavenly bodies, and prepared himself to become a great astronomer; other men have combated the temptations of their natural characters, or broken boldly away from evil associations, to prove in time the upright and zealous servants of God their maker. But there are some, who, with every apparent advantage of birth and endowment of nature, have resisted the voice of mere ambition, and confined themselves to the work in which they could be most useful to mankind. Doubtless, there are many men who deserve higher praise

than Lord Macaulay; who have had more difficulties to overcome, and in the end were of greater usefulness; but in that sphere which he finally resolved to fill, Macaulay did his best, and rose to the highest place. He had longed to be a poet; he had aspired to be a great orator and distinguished statesman. He could not know, without trial, that those natural qualities, which should fit him for either of these characters, were not in him of the highest order. Quenching his ambition, he devoted himself to that work for which he was best constituted, and in that succeeded.

Thomas Babington Macaulay was born on October 25, 1800, at Rothley Temple, in Leicestershire. He belonged to a Scotch family, of which more than one member had already been distinguished for his services in the cause of Christianity and humanity. His great uncle was the Rev. Kenneth Macaulay, a zealous missionary to the Hebrides. His father, Zachary Macaulay, was even better known as one of those earnest men who did their utmost to procure the abolition of slavery, and set the enslaved negro on a footing with his white master. He was the friend of Wilberforce; and, as editor of the Christian Observer,' assisted that good man with his pen in the noble cause they had both espoused. His religious tendencies were Calvinist; and the great historian was brought up to consider all books, save those whose object was to teach religion, as improper reading. It is related, however, that the boy managed to procure such guilty works-so the Macaulays thought them as Scott's novels, and 'The Arabian Nights;' and as an instance of his wonderful memory at this