He led us to the Prussian ambassador’s, where the chaplain preaches in the French language. No Protestant preaching was then allowed in Madrid,—none, indeed, in Spain,—except under the flag of another government. The ambassador, or the consul, had the right, of course, to regulate his own household as he pleases; and, under this necessary _privilege_, he has, if he is so disposed, a chaplain, and divine service on Sunday, when his doors are opened to all who choose to attend. The practical working of it is that a regular congregation comes to be established under each flag, if there are so many persons of that country and of a religious tendency as to make it important. In most of the great capitals of Europe there are people of other countries resident for business, health, or pleasure, and they find a place of worship in their own tongue. The Germans resident in Madrid speak the French language, as well as their own, and the present chaplain preaches in French. He is an earnest, excellent man, and his pulpit abilities would make him greatly useful in a wider sphere than this. In an upper chamber, that would seat fifty persons, a little congregation, not more than twelve or fifteen, had come together to hear the Word. The desk, or pulpit, was habited after the fashion in Germany, with black hangings, embroidered neatly by the hands of the wife of the Prussian ambassador, and with the words in French, “Go ye into all the world and preach the gospel.” I was told that on Christmas and Easter festivals of the church some two or three hundreds of German _Christians_ come to church and to the communion; but the rest of the year their spiritual wants do not require the weekly ordinances, and the congregation rarely exceeds thirty people. We went after church to the old Palace of the Inquisition. It is now converted into dwellings. Over the main entrance was the inscription, common all over these foreign countries, as in some parts of our own, “_Insured against Fire_.” The poor victims who in former years were dragged under that portal would have been glad to read such words, if they could be interpreted into an assurance that they were to be safe from the fire of an _auto da fe_. The Spanish Inquisition affords the saddest story in the annals of the human race. Whatever the name or creed of the persecutor,—Jew or Gentile, Roman, Greek, Protestant, or Mahometan,—the saddest of all possible facts is this, that man has put to torture and to death his fellow-man on account of his religious opinions. Let God be praised that in all the earth men now may worship him in their own way, with none to molest or make them afraid.