LAST DAYS OF CHARLES IX.

my conscience.” When on his way to Notre Dame to render thanks to God, he saw men in the crowd exhibiting their rough arms and boasting of the numbers they had killed. Just then one Huguenot was ferreted out and slain before the royal eyes, and he fiercely exclaimed, "Would to God it were the last."

The avenging hand of justice seemed to lay the king aside from active government. More than ever he was the tool of political managers. He simply lived as if he were the embodiment of remorse, for having assumed the terrible responsibility of the most awful crime against humanity. We may therefore overstep the limit of the period which we have sought to portray and follow him to his death. His case merits notice, were it only to set forth one of the saints in his household. Charles could not remember the first day when he was the fond charge of Philippe Richards, a Huguenot worthy of the trust. None else had been to him so much a true mother as this honest woman, whom he almost revered." Nurse, what do you think?" he would say, when he wished to spurn Catherine's advice. He never interfered with her religion, but sometimes said, "I hope you will some time see your errors and go to mass." When he was ill she faithfully told him of the true cross of the Redeemer.

The months rolled on, Charles growing more haggard, more ghastly. His mental sufferings were extreme. War was then raging. He was unmoved when he heard of the capture of Montgomery, or when Catherine wreaked her deadly vengeance. Masses, tapers, relics, vows, alms, and the prayers of his wife, brought no relief to Charles. He ate nothing unless the good nurse knew all about it. At night he had frightful dreams; he rose, read the primer, knelt and prayed; but again on his couch, he saw the air full of demons, and the heavens on fire. He was taken to Vincennes, and there he shivered and tossed; his hands withered, water would not soothe his thirst, and he weltered in a sweat of blood. One night, that attendant whom he loved to the last, and watched at his side when all others but his wife left him, heard him sobbing and whispering. She drew the curtain. nurse," he said "good nurse, what bloodshed and murder! wicked counsels I followed. Pardon me, O God,-what shall I do! I know not where I am. I am lost, I feel it,-lost, lost."

66

Oh, What

The nurse had gospel remedies.- "Trust in the Lord. The blood is upon those who caused you to shed it. If you repent of the murders, God will not impute them to you. He will cover

THE ORIGIN OF "HURRAH!"

them with the mantle of His Son's righteousness, in which alone you must seek refuge. But for God's sake cease weeping." He was comforted and slept.

Another day he sent for Henry of Navarre, who had formerly abjured Protestantism with Conde, and had been kept for more than a year and a half in a sort of imprisonment. Henry was led through the vaults of the castle, much to his surprise. He saw a double row of guards ready to despatch him. He started back, put his hand on his sword, and refused to advance until assured of safety. Charles gave him welcome, and said, “I know that you had no part in the late troubles, but if I had paid attention to what was said, you would not be alive. I have always loved you, and to your care I confide my wife and daughter. May God preserve you. Do not trust

by others in the room.

The name was not heard

"You should not say that," said Catherine, perhaps thinking she was meant or Anjou, so eager for the crown.

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Why not? Is it not true?"

Charles had no answer to his question. Henry remained with him through his last days. It was the 4th of May, 1574, when the rites of his church were administered to him. He was sinking. Farewells were given. Some assert that he called the name of Coligny. And then that pious nurse must have felt some delight as he thrice uttered the words, "If Jesus my Saviour, should remember me among the redeemed." With these words on his lips died Charles IX., at the age of twenty-four.

THE ORIGIN OF "HURRAH!'

THE discussion in some of the German papers in regard to the origin of the cry "Hurrah!" still continues. The cry" Hurrah!” was proved by a German writer to have been received by the Germans from the peoples coming from the East at the time of the "Volkerwanderung." It was then "Harra!"; subsequently changed in the wars with the Slaves, Huns and Avars to "Wara!" A writer in the Vossian Zeitung, who has lived several years in India, gives still further explanation on the origin of these cries. He says:

"The word Harra! really Aarri! was got by the old Germans in the first place from the people who wandered into Europe from Central Asia. The word Harra (Harri) is used to this day among

POETRY.

the Hindoos of Eastern India as a designation for God, being one of the names for the god Vishnu. When the Hindoos have anything difficult to accomplish they cry Harri! Harri! This cry is very frequently used by the Hindoo boatmen, when their boat happens to stick on a sandbank in the Ganges; putting all their strength together, they call out Harri! Harri! and exert their utmost powers until they bring it afloat. When the boatmen are towing the boat up the stream, and come to a strong current, when they wish to go quickly and securely over difficult and dangerous parts, the same cry is used. It is probable that the Hindoo soldiers use the cry Hirri! in war. In short, the word Harri! is used by the Hindoo whenever he is conscious of his own weakness, and feels the necessity of divine help. The word Harri, therefore, which our forefathers got from the peoples emigrating to Europe from Asia, and from which the cryhurrah' is derived, signifies 'God help us!' and in the mouth of a Christian soldier has the beautiful signification: God help us, and stand by us, since we have a difficult mission to accomplish, to conquer the enemy, and are in great danger of losing our lives.'

The discussion has at least thrown some interesting light upon the origin of this cry, which is now used among us with a totally different significance.

Poetry.

THE BEAUTIFUL LAND.

THERE are brighter skies than these, I know;
Lands where no shadows lie,

Fields where immortal flowers bloom,

And founts that are never dry;

There are domes where the stars are never dim,
Where the moon for ever gleams,

And the music-breath of the radiant hills
Sweeps o'er the crystal streams;

For often I've caught, in the time of sleep,
A gorgeous glimpse of this hidden deep,
Away in the land of dreams.

When night lets down her pall of mist
On slender cords of air,

And the purple shadows of dying day
Are teeming everywhere;

ANECDOTES AND SELECTIONS.

While unseen fairies chant a lay

In the lily's crimson cells,

And the solemn voice of the harmless winds
Breaks up the dreary fells;

I know, by the cry of my soul within,

There's a place where they shut the gates of sin,
And the God of glory dwells.

The wail of the wind, the river's voice,

The arch of western hill,

The beauty spread o'er the living earth
In slumberous twilight still,

The yearnings of each human heart
For a holier, better clime,-

A higher life than this mortal course,
Bearing the seal divine!

Ah! sure there must be a beautiful land,

Where the white-robed millions ransomed stand,
Chanting their songs sublime.

Anecdotes and Selections.

THE ATHEIST AND THE FLOWER.

WHEN Napoleon Bonaparte was Emperor of France, he put a man by the name of Charney into prison. He thought Charney was an enemy of his government, and for that reason deprived him of his liberty. Charney was a learned and profound man, and as he walked to and fro in the small yard into which his prison opened, he looked up to the heavens, the work of God's finger, and to the moon and stars which He ordained, and exclaimed, "All things come by chance."

One day, while pacing his yard, he saw a tiny plant, just breaking the ground near the wall. The sight of it caused a pleasant diversion of his thoughts. No other green thing was within his enclosure. He watched its growth every day. "How came it here?" was his natural inquiry. As it grew, other queries were suggested: "How came these delicate little veins in its leaves? What made its proportions so perfect in every part, each new branch taking its exact place on the parent stock, neither too near another, nor too much on one side?"

In his loneliness the plant became the prisoner's teacher, and his valued friend. When the flower began to unfold he was filled with delight. It was white, purple, and rose-colour, with a fine, silvery fringe. Charney made a frame to support it, and did what his circumstances allowed, to shelter it from the pelting rains and violent winds. "All things come by chance," had heen written by him upon the wall, just above where the flower grew. Its gentle reproof, as it whispered: "There is One who made me, so wonderfully beautiful, and He

ANECDOTES AND SELECTIONS.

it is who keeps me alive," shamed the proud man's unbelief. He brushed the lying words from the wall, while his heart felt that "He who made all things is God."

But God had a further blessing for the erring man through the humble flower. There was an Italian prisoner in the same yard whose little daughter was permitted to visit him. The girl was much pleased with Charney's love for his flower. She related what she saw to the wife of the jailor. The story of the prisoner and his flower passed from one to another, until it reached the ears of the amiable Empress Josephine, who said "The man who so devotedly loves and tends a flower, cannot be a bad man." So she persuaded the Emperor to set him at liberty.

Charney carried his flower home, and carefully tended it in his own green-house. It had taught him to believe in a God, and had delivered him from prison.

SPEND WISELY.-Look most to your spending. No matter what comes in, if more goes out you will always be poor. The art is not in making money, but in keeping it; little expenses, like mice in a barn, when they are many, make great waste. Hair by hair gets bald. Straw by straw the thatch goes off the cottage, and drop by drop the rain comes into the chamber. A barrel is soon empty if the tap leaks but a drop a minute. When you mean to save, begin with your mouth; there are many thieves down the red lane. The ale jug is a great waste. In all other things keep within compass. In clothes choose suitable and lasting stuff, and not tawdry fineries. To be warm is the main thing; never mind the looks. Never stretch your legs further than the blankets will reach, or you will soon be cold. A fool may make money, but it needs a wise man to spend it. Remember it is easier to build two chimneys than to keep them going. If you give all to back and board, there is nothing left for the savings bank. Fare hard and work hard while you are young, and you have a chance of rest when you are old.-John Plowman's Talk.

THREE IMPORTANT THINGS.-Let the following be kept in mind all the year:-Three things to love-courage, gentleness, and affection. Three things to admire-intellectual power, dignity, and gracefulness. Three things to hate cruelty, arrogance, and ingratitude. Three things to delight in-beauty, frankness, and freedom. Three things to wish for-health, friends, and a cheerful spirit. Three things to pray for-faith, peace, and purity of heart. Three things to likecordiality, good humour, and mirthfulness. Three things to avoididleness, loquacity, and flippant jesting. Three things to cultivategood books, good friends, and good humour. Three things to contend for-honour, country, and friends. Three things to govern-temper, tongue, and conduct. Three things to think about-life, death, and eternity.