sons from such far different lands and people, as he and I, should yet be able to recognize each other on our first meeting as brother and sister, and rejoice in the same truth and the same hope. This man's heart seemed to me to overflow with gratitude to God, and from the necessity to praise him. Barbe Odin was also a clear-headed thinker. On my inquiry “whether they, as Waldenses, would rather call themselves Evangelical-Catholics, than Protestants?” he replied, “Yes, Evangelical-Catholic! Protestant, what does it matter? Not much—one ought to be Evangelical!”
Barbe David mentioned that, some years before, an Italian youth of the Catholic faith came to the valleys, and excited attention, not merely on account of his unusually handsome person, but still more for the fervor and eloquence with which he poured forth himself in prayer and blessings over the people. Not a word of contention, or of a polemical character, came from the lips of the young preacher; words only of prayer to God and of love to man. Thus he appeared at some of the Waldenses congregations, and thus he vanished, nobody knowing whence he came or whither he went; neither was his name known to any one. His person and his voice were like those of an angel. “And yet he was a Catholic!” added Barbe David, thoughtfully, and as if wondering within himself, when he had with emotion related to us the account of the young man's appearance amongst them.
How entirely I could agree with Louise Appia, when she said, “We talk about converting Italy to the gospel, but do we indeed yet know what power
