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tuary, and pervade all her members as one life --all-seeing, all mighty, and all-glorious. Show her her vocation, and gird her for its accomplishment. Give the mighty heart and perfect faith, to which conflict

is easy, and victory certain. And when the last victory is won, and the last enemy conquered, and the world presented to the Saviour, let no hand be seen, no mercy adored - but THE.-N. Y. Evangelist.



" MY DEAR SIR,- In answering of the victims of Inquisitorial execuyour questions concerning the palace tions. Another object of horror I of the Inquisition at Rome, I should found between the great hall of judgsay that I can only give a few ment and the luxurious apartment of superficial and imperfect notes. So the Chief Jailer (Primo Custode), the short was the time that it re- Dominican friar who presides over mained open to the public, so great this diabolical establishment. This the crowd of persons that pressed to was a deep trap, a shaft opening catch a sight of it, and so intense the into the vaults under the Inquisition. horror inspired by that accursed As soon as the so-called criminal had place, that I could not obtain a more confessed his offence, the second exact and particular impression. keeper, who is always a Dominican

“I found no instruments of tor friar, sent him to the Father Comture ;* for they were destroyed at the missary to receive a relaxation* of his time of the first French invasion, punishment. With hope of pardon, and because such instruments were the confessed culprit would go tonot used afterwards by the modern wards the apartment of the Holy InInquisition. I did, however, find, in quisitor; but in the act of setting one of the prisons of the second court, foot at its entrance, the trap opened, a furnace, and the remains of a wo and the world of the living heard no man's dress. I shall never be able more of him. I examined some of to believe that that furnace was used the earth found in the pit below this for the living, it not being in such trap: it was a compost of common a place, or of such a kind, as to be earth, rottenness, ashes, and human of service to them. Everything, on hair-fetid to the smell, and horrible the contrary, combines to persuade me to the sight and to the thought of that it was made use of for horrible the beholder. deaths, and to consume the remains “But where popular fury reached

its highest pitch was in the vaults of * The gag, the thumb-screw, and many

Saint Pius V. I am anxious that other instruments of severe torture could

you should note well that this Pope easily be destroyed, and others as easily procured. There is reason to believe that was canonized by the Roman Church the most important records were burnt as especially for his zeal against hereties. soon as the Dominicans apprehended that I will now describe to you the manthe Roman people would once more make ner how, and the place where, those a forcible entrance into the palace. The

vicars of Jesus Christ handled the non-appearance of instruments is not enough to sustain the current belief that

living members of Jesus Christ, and the use of them is discontinued. So long show you how they proceeded for as there is a secret prison, and while all the their healing. You descend into the existing standards of Inquisitorial practice vanlts by very narrow stairs. A nar. make torture an ordinary expedient for extorting information, not even a Bull prohibiting torture would be sufficient to * In Spain, relaxation is delivery to convince the world that it has been discon. death. In the established style of the In. tinued. The practice of falsehood is en qui-ition, it has the same meaning. But joined on inquisitors. How, then, could we in the common language of Rome it means believe a Bull, or a Decree, if it were put release. In the lips of the Inquisitor, forth to-morrow, to release them from sus. therefore, if he used the word, it has one picion, or to screen them from obloquy? It meaning, and another to the ear of the would not be entitled to belief.


row corridor leads you to the several cells, which, for smallness and stench, are a hundred times more horrible than the dens of lions and tigers in the Colosseum. Wandering in this labyrinth of most fearful prisons, that may be called 'graves for the living,' I came to a cell full of skele. tons without skulls, buried in lime; and the skulls, detached from the bodies, bad been collected in a hamper by the first visitors. Whose were those skeletons? And why were they buried in that place and in that manner? I have heard some Popish ecclesiastics, trying to defend the Inquisition from the charge of having condemned its victims to a secret death, say that the palace of the Inquisition was built on a burial. ground belonging, anciently, to a hospital for pilgrims, and that the skeletons found were none other than those of pilgrims who had died in that hospital. But everything contradicts this papistical defence. Sup pose that there had been a cemetery there, it could not have had subter ranean galleries and cells, laid out with so great regularity; and even if there had been such-against all probability--the remains of bodies would have been removed on laying the foundations of the palace, to leave the space free for the subterranean part of the Inquisition. Besides, it is contrary to the use of common tombs to bury the dead by carrying them through a door at the side; for the mouth of the sepulchre is always at the top. And, again, it has never been the custom in Italy to bury the dead, singly, in quicklime; but, in time of plagues, the dead bodies have been usually laid in a grave until it was sufficiently full, and then quick-lime has been laid over them to prevent pestilential exhalations by hastening the decompo. sition of the infected corpses. This custom was continued, some years ago, in the cemeteries of Naples, and especially in the daily burial of the poor. Therefore, the skeletons found in the Inquisition of Rome could not belong tospersons who had died a natural death in a hospital; nor could any one, under such a supposition, explain the mystery of all the body being buried in lime, with the excep.

tion of the head. It remains, then, beyond doubt, that that subterranean vault contained the victims of one of the many secret martyrdoms of the butcherly Tribunal. The following is the most probable opinion, if it be not rather the history of a fact.

“The condemned were immersed in a bath of slaked lime, gradually filled up to their necks. The lime, by little and little, inclosed the sufferers, or walled them up all alive. The torment was extreme, but slow. As the lime rose higher and higher, the respiration of the victims became more and more painful, because inore difficult. So that, what with tbe suffocation of the smoke, and the anguish of a compressed breathing, they died in a manner most horrible and desperate. Some time after their death, the heads would naturally separate from the bodies, and roll away into the hollows left by the shrinking of the lime. Any other explanation of the fact that may be attempted will be found improbable and unnatural.

“You may make any use of these notes of mine, in your publication, that you please, since I can warrant their truth. I wish that writers, speaking of this infamous tribunal of the Inquisition, would derive their information from pure history, unmingled with romance; for so many and so great are the historical atroci. ties of the Inquisition, that they would more than suffice to arouse the detestation of a thousand worlds. I know that the Popish impostorpriests go about saying that the Inquisition was never an ecclesiastical tribunal, but a laic. But you will have shown the contrary in your work, and may also add, in order quite to unmask thoselying preachers, that the palace of the Inquisition at Rome is under the shadow of the palace of the Vatican; that the keepers of the Inquisition at Rome are, to this day, Dominican friars ; and that the Prefect of the Inquisition at Rome is the Pope in person.

“I have the honour to be,
“Your affectionate Servant,

“ ALESSANDRO Gavazzi." [This letter is taken from W. Rule's “ Brand of Dominic." Page 271.]

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LOOK AFTER THE CHILDREN. We must pay special attention to the love of angels; it is spontaneous the children and young people con- as the out-breaking of the mountain nected with our schools, and the rill, when the icy grasp of winter is families composing our congrega. loosened by the warm breath of tions. They are the chief hope of spring; it is abiding, and changeour Churches, and from them each less. Time and distance may sepayear should yield large accessions to rate the ("ristian pastor and the the number of converted and useful lambs of his flock; but ever will members. A few years exhaust the be found, in manhood's prime, or entire energy of a Church of old woman's loreliness, the pure love of people, which has not been invi- the little child, now grown to dignigorated by continual infusion of the fied and firm attachment, for the youth of both sexes. Shall we, then, minister of Christ. as a people, see our Churches becom. At the present period there are ing infirm and powerless, in a few thousands of men and women, who years; or shall we have an erer. were children a few years ago. In blooming, vigorous, and healthy com- many instances, where the little ones munity, with its ranks recruited were taught by the preacher to conyearls from the youthful portion of sider themselves the special objects society? There is, there can be, no of his care, they are found within hesitancy on this point. All agree the circle of our Churches and congrethat the latter is essential and must gations, firmly rooted and grounded be secured. But how?

in the principles there advocated. But Let preachers and people look far otherwise is it with many hun. after the small children, with special dreds, and it may be thousands, of solicitude. Too little attention is them. And why? Because they paid to children by the ministers of were scarce noticed. They saw no every denomination. The importance exhibition of love for children. Love of it is not felt and understood as it is reciprocal, and they only love who should be by us. Only a few short are conscious of being beloved. years elapse, and the little ones who But our love for children must bashfully cling to their mother's prompt to the use of means for their gown when a stranger speaks to religious instruction as they advance them become transformed to men in life. Ministers cannot indeed do and women, who walk the earth as all themselves, but they may origijoint sovereigns of nature, and in nate plans for doing much, by emtheir turn uphold the tottering steps ploying the time and energies of of age and wield the destinies of others. Our intelligent lay friends, earth.

both male and female, can and must The confidence and esteem of little help in this great work. They must children cannot be too highly valued be willing to spare a few hours in by the Christian pastor. He cannot the week for conducting Bible classes be too careful to secure and cultivate and meetings preparatory to Church it. It has nothing of the cold, cal fellowship, for the special spiritual culating cautiousness, that often dis welfare of our children and young tinguishes the friendship of maturer people. Ministers will visit them years.

from time to time in their juvenile But what is it that distinguishes circles, and encourage them by their their love that is so peculiar? I presence, their counsels, and prayers. answer, it is pure and guileless as

Advice is like snow, the softer it falls, the longer it dwells upon, and the deeper it sinks into the mind.

Family worship serves as an edge or border to preserve the web of life from unravelling.

Truth is not only & man's ornament, but his instrument; it is the great man's glory, and the poor man's stock; a man's truth is his livelihood, his recommendation, his letters of credit,

AN IDEA OF A CHRISTIAN. He loveth truth, therefore he liveth That high efforts are burnt-offerings,

it; and because he liveth it, he good works no despicable means understandeth it:

of grace, For him it hath the fewer difficulties And holiness and service-are they

-a seeker for truth rather than a not the truest worship? searcher for error.

Therefore he grafteth on devotion He hath stedfastly set the face of devotedness, and laboureth to do his heart Godward,

good ; And hath not slammed the door of He remembereth he is not only God's

conscience against his convictions; son but his servant; Vice hath not made unbelief a neces. And shineth as well as burneth in

sity, nor the love of evil rendered his orbit, though its cycle be no truth incomprehensible :

large one. Therefore love is light within him, right feeling hath ripened into

Grave and earnest is he, for when true thought,

was trifler useful or great And from his Bible and his intellect

Therefore is he intent on being, he striketh out cheering sparks of

rather than on knowing, getting, light continually.

or doing.

To him every meal is a sacrament, He hath the habit of worship : his

any day a solemn Sabbath ; heart still kneeleth to the good and Yet ñis is no cloistered piety, he is the true.

neither sour nor ascetic; Therefore he prayeth always, every. He is no austere auchorite, and fastwhere; with his lips much, in his eth from little except sin : life more :

For his seriousness is without gloom, Patiently, for his father is wisdom,

and his religiousness graceful and and delays are not always denials:

happy. Subinissively also, for how often are If his virtue is awful as an angel's, requests unwise, and desires ruin

it is unpretending as a child's ; ous !

Any season is his gladsome Easter He worshippeth in his family, and

-he weareth always the surplice also in the social assembly;

of song. But his temple is everywhere, and his oratory anywhere.

[From an I dea of a Christian," He forgetteth not that a godly life is by S. W. Partridge.]

itself no mean prayer,

GENIUS CANNOT GIVE HAPPINESS. Amidst other intellectual pursuits Savage, the friend of Johnson, will in which happiness has been sought, be familiar to the student of English the career of the poet may be ad- literature. The course of Chatterton verted to. His delights lie in the is not less mournful. Full of youthcultivation of an elegant imagination, ful promise, he repaired to London, and in the enjoyment of those plea- to commence, as he expected, a sucsures which can only be tasted by a cessful literary career. “ What a mind of a refined order and delicate glorious prospect awaits me!" he structure. When the poet's talent wrote on his arrival : yet within a has been directed to the glory of God, few months he was buried as a comit has proved to be one eminently mon puuper from Shoe-laue workprofitable and delightful. When house. Equally sad associations are cultivated in a worldly spirit, how- connected with the poet Burns. ever, experience has shown by more "Save me from the horrors of a jail,”. than one painful instance that a were almost his last words. “It will highly-gifted bard may be a mise be some time," he wrote in his final rable man. The wretched life of illness, " before I tune my lyre again. I inte eflaie ouls known existence the order of his Lind. He not only

; IELTS te of the heary hand of was, bit looked. tejet. The pen siccess, and have counted time by cil of the artist and the chisel of the the reversions of pain. I close sculptor were alike emplored to deIsayeve in nisery and open them lineate his countenance as a model witholt hope. Pale, emaciated, and of classic grace. The talents in

eeble, you would not know me ifrou trusted to his stewardship were saw me; and inv spirits fled-fled!" great; how melanchols, in survering In the biography of the poet Camp). his short career, to observe their misheil. who had in tarly youth sung application! And how different the " Pleasures of Hope," and whose would have been the result had they muse was never disgraced by the been guided by the wisdom that is hlemishes which attach to the com- from abore, instead of that which position of the other poets whom we “is earthly, sensual, and derilish." have nained, a touching instance oc His poetical genius was of a high mirs of the emptiness of poetie fame. class, capable of describing external In the evening of life, the poet thus nature, and the play of human passpoke to a circle of friends:-" I am sions, in a manner which awoke the alone in the world. My wife and the deepest emotions of the heart Brchild of my hopes are dead. My only ron early felt within himself aspiraburviving child is consigued to a tions after literary eminence. When living tomli” (he was the inmate ofa a mere youth he wrote lunatic asylum). Jy okl friends,

The desire in my bosom for fame brothers, and sisters are dead; all

Bids me live but to hope for posterity's but one, and she, too, is dying. My praise; last hopes are blighted. As for fame, Could I soar with the phenis, on ashes of it is a bubble that must soon burst.

flame, Earned for others, shared with others,

With it I would wish to expire in the

blaze. it was sweet ; but at my age, to my own solitary experience, it is bitter. These desires were speedily gratiLeft in my chamber alone with my fied. After a passing disappointment, self, is it wonderful my philosophy at connected with the failure of some times takes frigot, that I rush into minor poetical effusions, he published company, resort to that which blunts his first great poem. - The effect of but heals no pang-and then, sick of it," says a writer, “ was electric. His the world and dissatisfied with my fame had not to wait for any of the self, shrink back into solitude ?"

ordinary gradations, but seemed to As a far more striking instance, spring up, like the palace of a fairy however, of the vanity of the highest tale, in a single night." His work poetical genius and the emptiness of became the theme of erery tongue. mere worldly fame, we select, as our At his door most of the leading type, LORD BYROX, or The Poet. names of the day presented them

Upon this remarkable individual selves. From morning till night the were heaped many of those gifts of most flattering testimonies of sucnature and of fortune which are by cess crowded his table. “He found the world so highly prized. He was bimself," says Mr. Macaulay, "on by birth noble, tracing his descent the highest pinnacle of literary fame. from a line of ancestors which There is scarcely an instance in his. stretched back to a remote period of tory of so sudden a rise to so dizzy English history. Although not an eminence. Everything that could abounding in wealth, he was left in stimulate, everything that could possession of an income which, to a gratify the strongest propensities of well-regulated mind, would have se onr nature, were at once offered to cured independence. His manners, him: the gaze of a hundred draw. when he wished to please, are stated ing-rooms, the acclamations of the to have been singularly winning and whole nation, and the applause of attractive. His smile disarmed op. applauded men." "In place of the position and invited friendship. His desert," continues his biographer, external appearance harmonized with "which London had been to him a

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