The general state of that valley, especially at Arvieux, is far less promising than that of Freyssinières.

To labour in vain is certainly a most painful trial for a minister. How often have I sighed in bitterness of spirit over Arvieux. However, God, who will not suffer his word to return unto him void, has given one sign of his presence in this otherwise hardened place. I have, I think, already mentioned a young woman named Maria Philipps. She is now, like the sister of Lazarus, sitting at the feet of Jesus; but she suffered so much in the mean time, that I feared her life would be lost. Brought up in the Romish Church, she quitted it on her marriage with a Protestant. Not having been admitted to the Lord's Supper, according to our forms, I gave her the same instructions as to my other catechumens, and it is surprising with what facility she received them; and by her answers I discovered that she was most deeply sensible of her misery. During the winter I often saw her, and found her more and more cast down. Her countenance was sad, and she seemed very ill. Her mother said to me, 'Pray come as often as you can; my poor Maria has no comfort but when you are here.' I wished to see her in private, but never could succeed in doing so. At last her husband said, 'My poor Maria will die; I know not what ails her; but she takes no food, and seems melting away like the snow.' I told him this sickness was not unto death, but for the glory of God, and the edification of himself and others.

'The same evening Maria appeared more sad than usual; she retired complaining of violent pains in her chest. Her mother took me aside and said; 'Maria is anxious to speak to you; she complains that she cannot pray, it is that which oppresses her so painfully.' This was just what I had long wished.

"Well Maria,' said I, 'you are very sorrowful; tell me what ails you?' 'I am lost.' 'No doubt you

are; so are we all by nature; but did not Jesus Christ come to seek and to save that which was lost?' 'I know it, but it is three years since God graciously opened my eyes to a sense of my sinfulness; I have been all the winter as ill as I am now; I have trifled with the means of grace; I have suffered my hour to go by; now my heart is hardened; God has rejected me, and I deserve it.'

These words, spoken with the calmness of despair, made me fear that the dreadful idea was absolutely fixed in her mind. I asked her, if at the time of which she first spoke, there had been any one near, to point out to her the way of salvation? 'No.' 'Then do not despair; to-day is your hour; hitherto you seem scarcely to have known the Good Shepherd.'

'She was but little comforted by all I could say, and it was in vain I spread before her the rich treasures of God's mercy in Christ. She assured me it was of no use to her; that she could neither repent, believe, nor pray. I used every argument I could, to comfort her; and appeared to consider her state of mind as both common and natural. I offered to pray with her, but still she was not comforted; I entreated her to go herself to Jesus, but she could not promise. The next day I spent part of the morning with her; I visited her frequently, but still without effect. She was bowed down beneath the burden of her sins; she watered her couch with her tears; and yet complained of her hardness of heart, and want of repentance.

'She continued some months in this sad state; and though now enabled to cast her anchor within the vail, she is often melancholy; her tender conscience is alarmed at the least appearance of evil. One day some young girls who were sporting near her, said, Maria, why do not you laugh as we do?' she replied, with much gentleness; 'My sadness is dearer to me than your mirth,'

'She has with difficulty recovered her bodily strength, and her health is still delicate. Her mind is too powerful for her body, I never met with a heart so deeply affected, so enlightened, and yet so simple.'

This is a painful history; and it is cheering to know that after affliction, this tried soul has found peace. We shall frequently meet with this interesting Christian in the course of this work; for the present we must return to the order of the letters. We have seen under what discouragements Neff hitherto pursued his labours; but the letter which opens the next chapter, is written in a more cheerful strain. Its style and contents make it one of the most beautiful missionary records which exist,

CHAPTER VIII.

From the awakening in Freyssinières in April 1825, to the end of the year-Visit to Piedmont, &c.

'THE wild and gloomy valley of which I have so often spoken lately,' says Neff, 'seems about to realize an accomplishment of the prophecy, that "the wilderness and solitary place shall be glad, and the desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose ;" and promises a repetition, among the High Alps, of the mission to Sierra Leone, and Otaheite. We have seen how zealously these poor mountaineers assisted in the erection of a school; how eagerly they received the sermons of Nardin; and how well they attended the public services, and private re-unions. For some time all profane and idle diversions had been given up by the inhabitants, and a striking improvement was observable in their manners. But all this was not life; the bones were come together, and were covered with skin and flesh; but there was no breath in them. Now however, thanks be to God, the "breath" from "the four winds" has breathed "upon these slain ;" and we may hope that the faith of the ancient Vaudois may be revived among their posterity.

'Till the end of February, I had seen but little improvement, except among a few persons; at that period, however, much occurred to encourage me; and

particularly at Minsals. It seems as though God, by beginning the good work in this most wretched and miserable hamlet, would illustrate his own words: "the last shall be first."

'At Dormilleuse, affairs wear a far less promising aspect; the catechumens, as well as the rest of the people, appear luke-warm and indifferent, in proportion to their superior knowledge. Deeply grieved by the state of these young people, I endeavoured one evening to make them sensible how unfit they were to receive their first communion at Easter. I spoke to them without restraint, and gave free vent to the bitterness of my feelings, excited by their hard-heartedness and indifference; expressing my fears that all the pains I bestowed upon them, would only increase their condemnation.

'I returned to Queyras, where I passed three Sundays; and held several meetings in the different hamlets. On the 20th of March, preaching at St. Vèran, I prevailed on the inhabitants of Mollines, for the first time, to remain during afternoon service. It was at this time that Maria Phillips, of Arvieux, was in such a distressed state of mind. Her younger sister Margaret, hitherto a rigid Papist, and extremely frivolous, was also just then beginning to open her eyes to her errors. I one day asked her if she thought, because she was a Papist, that either the Pope or a priest could as easily grant a dispensation to relieve her from the necessity of conversion, as from the mere outward act of fasting? She made no reply, but was thoughtful and melancholy the rest of the day.

'At La Chalp, I found a few young girls among the catechumens, who appeared rather more seriously disposed than heretofore; but it is difficult to obtain any decisive information respecting their spiritual state. It is impossible to imagine the patience it requires to deal with these half-savage young people.