White Cloud Kansas chief. [volume] (White Cloud, Kan.) 1857-1872, 1859-08-18
CHAPTER XIX.
WHAT SHALL BE THE ENDe

mnr OF thanks, and a mingllng OF lov
and affection, when Philip d. ATtoy an
u Adele st. Aulnay met. They knelt to
. gether, and together they offered up thei
. thanks to that Being in whom they pla
!; eed their everlasting trust. Oh. it wa
in truth a joyous occasion, and for tn
! while the fearful scenes of earth were for
a gotten. Upon the ears of the youthful
lovers the clang and roar Of the Papa
murder fell not, for their souls had room
only for the love and gratitude which haC
sprung to renewed life within their bo
: SONS. Those were two pure souls, ant
the God of Love most surely smiled upor
them.
"Where is the kind Butcher of Notrc
Dame?" asked Philip, as he gazed about
him, but speaking to the old Benedictine
els he not coming ?"
"Be not troubled about him." replied
Aymar. "He has his hands full, and
you may rest assured that he is doing his
duty. But come, we will move from
here, and at no great distance we shall
find place of more comfortable arrange
ment."
So the party moved on. There were
Philip and Adele, who went behind. and
Michael and Aymar. In the course Of
half an hour they came to a wide vault,
which had the appearance of having once
been used for a sort of magazine, and here
were found wine, water and provisions.
Simon Wendell provided these, for he
feared we might have to remain here some
time" explained the Benedictine, as they
turned into the vault. $50 here we will
rest. for the present, at least"
And Philip and Adele sat down once
more, and the maiden rested upon her
noble lovers bosom. 1t was a sweet
place of rest to her, and she whispered
forth her love and gratitude anew. But
they did not forget to pray. All! they
heard the dreadful conflict warning above
them, and they had need of prayer.
=
The night was passed, and in the streets
Of the great city it was broad daylight.
But what scenel The very sun seemed
to tremble in his track, and the whole
heavens looked red and angry.
The slaughter had now become gene
raj. Bands of mad Catholics were rang
ing every part of the city, and the cry Of
the victims was long, loud, and continu-
Gus. The frightened Protestants had
many of them locked themselves up in
their houses, but they were broken in
upon and cruelty butchered. There were
mothers fleeing through the streets with
their infants clasped to their bosoms, but
the murderers caught them and put than
to death. Old men, who could not move
from their houses, were caught by the
Papal killers and dragged from their beds
and couches, and with demoniac shouts
were they murdered. There were laugh
ings, too-wild, horrible laughings-as
the murderer5 did their bloody work.
They laughed at the very torture they
made, and they called others to enjoy the
scenes of death they executed.
And Paris was one great slaughter
house Man cannot conceive Of the ter
rible realities of that day! Pen cannot
write them, nor can tongue describe them.
Even in the worst form of cannibalism,
the likes of that season were never dream
ed of. Earth never bore upon her bosom
the race ofsavages, either human or brute,
that could DO such deeds as these. And
yet that butchery-that massacre Of st.
artholomew-was the work Of men who
professed religion Aye-more than that
it was the work of those who laid claim
to Christianity. And, oh, God more
terrible still-it was the work of one who
claimed to be Christ's Vicar on earth J!
and who is even now held in the calendar
of the great Roman Catholic Church as
Saint, and holy apostolic successor of
St. Peterl Let the world of humanity
think of this.
One Catholic, who could not find
enough of blood to CLINT his hellish appe-
tite, bought thirty Professionals Of those iOho
had seized and secured them, that he might
torture and murder them at his leisure ~
Should not the Church have made him
saint
About the palace of the Louvre. the
scene was horrible in the extreme. When
the wild murder first broke ont, thousands
of Protestants fed to the palace believing
that the King would protect them. And
why should they not? They had been
faithful subjects to him, and they did not
dream that their monarch would counter
ance their destruction. So to the Louvre
they fed, but they only fastened to their
death. The Royal Guards set upon them,
and they were butchered like SO many
dogs
At one Of the windows Of the palace
stood Charles Of France himself; and he
was shooting down those who had come
to ask for safety at his hands. The King
had provided himself with a number of
heavy match-loeks, and his courtiers and
servants kept them loaded while he anus
ed himself by firing at the Protestants
who fed past his window. Alas poor
Charles was drunk with the sight Of
blood. But God knows that those mar
tyrs who fell beneath his deadly sport,
were better off than he, for the peace and
Joy of his young life had departed for
ever. He was frantic and forgetful then,
but terrible memory was in store for
him
And so he passed the time away. The
night came, and the Catholics slept not,
sGOOdrich's Universal History. Vol. ii, p.
s73.