-Continued
labors.--Execution of Servetus.--Inhabitants of France.--Antony
of Bourbon.--Jeanne d'Albret.--The separation.--Different
life.--Rage of the Pope.--Growth of Protestantism.--Catharine's
blandishments.--Undecided action.--Seizure of the queen.--Civil
war.--Death of Antony of Bourbon.--Effects of the war.--Liberty of
worship.--Indignation and animosity.--Religious toleration.--Belief of
the Romanists.--Establishment of freedom of conscience.

About four hundred years ago there was a small kingdom, spreading over
the cliffs and ravines of the eastern extremity of the Pyrenees,
called Navarre. Its population, of about five hundred thousand,
consisted of a very simple, frugal, and industrious people. Those who
lived upon the shore washed by the stormy waves of the Bay of Biscay
gratified their love of excitement and of adventure by braving the
perils of the sea. Those who lived in the solitude of the interior, on
the sunny slopes of the mountains, or by the streams which meandered
through the verdant valleys, fed their flocks, and harvested their
grain, and pressed rich wine from the grapes of their vineyards, in
the enjoyment of the most pleasant duties of rural life. Proud of
their independence, they were ever ready to grasp arms to repel
foreign aggression. The throne of this kingdom was, at the time of
which we speak, occupied by Catharine de Foix. She was a widow, and
all her hopes and affections were centred in her son Henry, an ardent
and impetuous boy six or seven years of age, who was to receive the
crown when it should fall from her brow, and transmit to posterity
their ancestral honors.

Ferdinand of Aragon had just married Isabella of Castile, and had thus
united those two populous and wealthy kingdoms; and now, in the
arrogance of power, seized with the pride of annexation, he began to
look with a wistful eye upon the picturesque kingdom of Navarre. Its
comparative feebleness, under the reign of a bereaved woman weary of
the world, invited to the enterprise. Should he grasp at the whole
territory of the little realm, France might interpose her powerful
remonstrance. Should he take but the half which was spread out upon
the southern declivity of the Pyrenees, it would be virtually saying
to the French monarch, "The rest I courteously leave for you." The
armies of Spain were soon sweeping resistlessly through these sunny
valleys, and one half of her empire was ruthlessly torn from the Queen
of Nava