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I felt a compassionate tenderness for this unfortunate man, who was crippled for life, and my hatred for war increased still more. He suddenly said to me, in rather bad French, "I think I can give you news of one of your friends." "What is his name?" I asked. "Emmanuel Bocher." "Oh yes, he is certainly a great friend of mine. How is he?" "He is still a prisoner, but he is very well."

Here is the source, whence for ages have flowed the bitter waters of religious intolerance. If Calvin had not worshipped a cruel God, he never could have hoped to please Him by the murder of Servetius. If Cranmer had wanted lively faith in a God who people's Hell 'with millions of immortal souls, he never would have brought Joan Bocher to the stake.

It is pleasanter to know that not a single Roman Catholic was burnt in this reign for holding that religion; though two wretched victims suffered for heresy. One, a woman named JOAN BOCHER, for professing some opinions that even she could only explain in unintelligible jargon. The other, a Dutchman, named VON PARIS, who practised as a surgeon in London.

This was always the case on the appearance of Mesdames de St. Aulaire and de Castellane, of some charming members of the corps diplomatique, the Princess de Ligne, Mesdames Firmin Rogier and de Stockhausen, or again of three sisters, daughters of M. de Laborde, Mesdames Delessert, Bocher, and Odier. Three magnificent Englishwomen, the Sheridan sisters, had formerly caused a great sensation.

Meeting at Lord Carnarvon's about the bust of Sir C. Newton. 25th. Breakfast at Sheen House with Comte and Comtesse de Paris, to meet Lefevre-Pontalis and Bocher. 28th. Lunched with Major Dawson at Woolwich and went over the Arsenal. Very interesting. April 12th. Meeting for Matthew Arnold's Memorial. 7,000 l. raised. May 4th. Dined at the Royal Academy dinner. Sat by Horsley, Tyndall, and Chitty.

A French girl, told that her English accent is bad, corrects it carefully; an American, gently reminded that a French "u" is not pronounced like "you," changes it to "oo," and stares defiance at Bocher and all his works.

No one thought of protesting against the burning of one Joan Bocher, in 1550, for affirming a peculiarly unintelligible heresy concerning the mode of the Incarnation.