constitutional feeling and
action has since grown up around the Vaudois, cutting off the prospect
of these disabilities ever being re-imposed, unless, indeed, Austria and
France should combine to put down the Piedmontese constitution. But
hitherto that nation which gave religious liberty to the people of God
has had its own political liberties wonderfully protected.

The year 1848, then, was the "exodus" of the Vaudois. And why were they
brought out of their house of bondage? Surely they have yet a work to
do. Their great mission, which was to bear witness for the truth during
the domination of Antichrist, they nobly fulfilled; but are they to have
no part in diffusing over the plains of Italy that light which they so
long and so carefully preserved? This undoubtedly is their mission. All
the leadings of Providence declare it to be so. They were visited with
revival, brought from their Alpine asylum, had full liberty of action
given them, all at the moment that Italy had begun to be open to the
gospel. They are the native evangelists of their own country: let them
remember their own and their fathers' sufferings, and avenge themselves
on Rome, not with the sword, but the Bible. And let British Christians
aid them in this great work, assured that the door to Rome and Italy
lies through the valleys of the Vaudois.

The last day of my sojourn in the Waldensian territory was Sabbath the
19th of October, and I worshipped with that people,--rare enjoyment!--in
their sanctuary. The day broke amid high winds and torrents of rain. The
clouds now veiled, now revealed, the hill-side, with its variously
tinted foliage, and its white torrents dashing headlong to the vale. The
mighty form of the Castelluzzo was seen struggling through mists; and
high above the winds rose the roar of the swollen waters. At a quarter
before ten, the church-bell, heard through the pauses of the storm, came
pealing from the heights. The old church of La Tour,--the new and more
elegant fabric which stands in the village was not then opened,--is
sweetly placed at the base of the Castelluzzo, embowered amid vines and
fragrant foliage, and commanding a noble view of the plains of Piedmont.
Even amidst the driving mists and showers its beauty could not fail to
be felt. The scenery was--

"A blending of all beauties, streams and dells,
Fruits, foliage, crag, wood, corn-field, mountain, vine."

General Beckwith did me the honour to call at my hotel, and I