On May 31st, we left Milan for Turin; and after Mr. Müller had conducted three services in that city, on Tuesday, June 3rd, set off for an excursion through the Waldensian Valleys, which contain a Protestant population of about 26,000, whereas Turin has only between 800 and 900 _Protestant_ inhabitants. The journey from Turin to Pignerola was performed by rail; but at the latter place we took an open carriage, and drove to Villa Sèche, a village inhabited principally by Protestants. During the drive, we passed several mountain torrents, saw the distant Alps, and drove for miles close to the river Chison, which was rushing over its rocky bed with a loud noise, down a steep incline into the Valley. The whole of this district is extremely interesting, because for hundreds of years it has been inhabited by the Waldenses, who, in the 16th and 17th centuries, on account of their faithfulness to Christ, were cruelly persecuted by the Papists; and, as their attachment to the reformed faith brought many sufferings upon them, they were compelled to flee from their beloved homes to any hiding place that afforded them a refuge. The two principal Waldensian Valleys are St. Martin and Luzerne, which contain 15 parishes; but the houses in them are scattered, and being at a great distance from each other, the members of the little Churches are obliged to walk many miles in order to attend the meetings. These Waldensian Christians are generally very poor, and many of them live in houses roofed with rough, flat stones loosely put together, instead of slates or tiles. In the windows, too, of a few of their abodes, paper occupied the place of glass. At Pomaret some of the people were standing at their doors to gaze at us, because our visit was expected; and as we drove along "Monsieur le pasteur Georges Müller" had many respectful bows and salutations. At five o'clock we reached the house of the pastor at Villa Sèche, and in the evening accompanied him to his Church, a very ancient Vaudois place of worship, situated at a great height upon a mountain, many hundreds of feet above his residence. A steep, rugged, winding pathway, covered in places with loose stones, led up this mountain towards the Church; and as some rivulets streamed over the ascent, it was difficult to avoid getting ankle-deep in water. The silence and solitude of the whole region, too, were striking. At length, warm, tired, and almost breathless, we reached the Church, a large, old-fashioned building, which was crowded with a rustic congregation, who (the meeting having been announced for 5 o'clock, though circumstances did not allow of our getting there till 7) had been sitting there two hours, patiently waiting our arrival. The service, which was in French, was opened with singing and prayer, after which Mr. Müller addressed the audience for an hour, throwing himself heart and soul into their circumstances. At the close of the meeting we