ality, and prove that their reverend author is one whose dealings with unrighteous sceptics, is no less admirable than John Sterling's (of Parony Church, Glasgow), way of handling the unrighteous papist, Louis the Fourteenth. That eccentric Clergyman fer vently prayed that God would shake the haughty tyrant over the mouth ef hell, but, added he, dinna God! O dinna let him fa in. In like manner, we opine, Mr. Gilfillan would be very glad to see obstinate doubters shaken over the mouth of hell, but very sorry to see them fa in. Though no friend of doubters he is far from wishing them serious harm, and declares their feeling are not respected, their questions are not fairly answered, their motives and characters are misrepresented, their doubts are flung back, unresolved, contemptuously in their face; and hence many of them are carrying iheir questions to other oracles, and getting their Gordian knots cut by other swords than that of the spirit. man. Occasionally, however, Mr. Gilfillan changes his style-like many other Reverend writers, he waxes intolerant as he warms with his subject. The onset of the German Philosopher upon Christianity, he believes "from above," from the height of transcendental thought; but that of Paine and Volney, he tells us came from the hell of mean passions and low conceptions of Now this we must say is "too bad." Though not Disciples of either Paine or Volney, we should hesitate in ascribing to them the worst motives, and cannot understand the liberality of those who do. We can see nothing in the Ruins of Empires or the Age of Reason that should excite indignation, or set us upon calumniating their Authors Both works, though sometimes faulty in reasoning, abound in beautiful reflections and suggestions, that even Mr. Gilfillan might profit by. We think, moreover, that their way of opposing revealed religion, being plainer and more honest, will advantageously bear a comparison with that of rationalizing Germans, who, if honest, are certainly not plain. So mystical is some of their jargon, that not only is it unintelligible to others, but occasionally a mystery to them. selves. When the famous Richter was asked to explain a passage in one of his books, he said-Young man, when I wrote that God and I knew what it meant, now, God may know but assuredly I don't. Many other German writers, of the Transcendental School, could afford to make a like admission. We doubt not their exceeding depth, but then they are so deep that no one can get to the bottom of them, and we do not see how the people are to be benefitted by their profundity. But though liberally inclined towards transcendental "infldelity," Mr. Gilfillan is not only shocked at Paine and Volney, but works himself into a high state of nervous irritability against Emerson, the American, whose lectures and essays are the shame of bigots, the glory of literature, and admiration of two worlds. After heaping praise upon hm, our Reverend writer in Tait's mournfully says-But when we think of such a mind, owning a faith seemingly so cold, and vague, and shadowy; and when in his lectures we find moral and spiritual truths robbed of their awful sanctions, separated like rays cut off from the sun, from their parent system and source, swerving from off their moorings upon the Rock of Ages the infinite and the eternal, and supported upon his own authority alone, when, in short the moon of genius comes between us and the sun of God, we feel a dreariness and desolation of spirit inexpressible; and, much as we admire the Author, and love the man, we are tempted to regret the hour when he first landed upon our shores. The plain English of al! which is, that the religion of Mr. Emerson is not the same as the religion of Mr. Gilfillan, and therefore the latter so little fancies the former as to wish our shores well rid of him. Thus it is with bigotry, which never can be satisfled, save by reducing to one dead level every mind. Of what consequence to any of us is the Creed of Mr. Emerson? It may be cold, and vague, and shadowy. Well, what then? Are we on that account to pay one whit less respect to his moral or literary excellence? Suppose he does rest conviction, with regard to the infinite and eternal, upon the sole authority of his own reason, are we to consider him a nuisance, and hail his departure from our shores as a riddance to rejoice over? Fye, Mr. Gilfillan, you ought to know better than to drivel in this manner. What would the inan have? Can there be any other than individual authority? If such authority there is, let it be produced. We have searched far and wide without finding a shred of authority for religion save what is derived from, and rests upon, individual authority. Will even Mr. Gilfillan make the humiliating confession that he believes Christianity true merely because authorised to do so? We think not. We shrink from supposing him capable of taking the most serious of all opinions upon trust. No one, says an admirable writer, takes anything upon trust at market, nor would they do so at church if there were one thousandth part the regard for truth that there is for money. Perhaps Mr. Gilfillan regards truth more than money; but when he charges sincerity upon Emerson as something like crime, and whines about dreariness and desolation of spirit inexpressible because that cold thinker relies more upon the authority of enlightened consciousness to the, at best, traditional authority of certain religions, we have grave misgivings upon the subject. Abont Mr. Emerson's creed we hear little and care less. We have to do with what he knows-not his day dreams and midnight speculations about the unknown. Mere creeds are mere may-bes, and as such should be treated. All creeds should be respected so long as they are not made, by artful professors, the means of debauching our minds and picking our pockets. If we examine them it should be in a spirit of fairness State creeds and national churches are an abomination in the sight of the Lord, but creeds and churches standing in their own strength on the eternal Rock of Truth are glorious to behold. Mr. Gilfillan is, nevertheless, the declared enemy of superstition, though wary of telling us in what superstition consists or the certaiu marks by which it may be known. His speculations, when untainted by bigotry, are decidedly progressive. Theology, as he treats it, cannot fail to startle the orthodox; and no writer with whom we are acquainted denounces less circumspectly the tactics of Christian defenders. Such books, says he, as Paley, Watson, Hall on Modern Infidelity, or Olinthus Gregory, the leviathan of German scepticism, takes up but as straw or rotten wood. They split upon his adamantine scales. Considering that Tait's Magazine is published in Scotland, where the people are superabundantly fanatical, this is pretty well; and it may be doubted, whether among such a people, a Magazine less unscrupulous in the telling of truth, and altogether untainted with the virus of bigotry, would find remunerative circulation. Certainly neither Mr. Gilfillan nor his fellow labourers in the and ingenious, as they always are, we look in vain for any fixed same vineyard touch the root of the matter. Eloquent, amusing, principle by which belief should be regulated and the dark empire of superstition destroyed. THE FALLEN STAR; OR THE HISTORY OF A FALSE RELIGION. And the sun wert down in the west, and the first stars of the twilight began to glimmer, when Morven started from his seat, aud a trembling appeared to seize his limbs. His lips foamed; an agony and a fear possessed him; he writhed as a man whom the spear of a foeman has pierced with a mortal wound, and suddenly fell upon his face on the stoney earth. The elders approached him; wondering, they lifted him up. He slowly recovered as from a swoon; his eyes rolled wildly. "Heard ye not the voice of the Star?" he said. And the chief of the elders answered, "Nay, we heard no sound. "To me only the word was given. Summon instantly, O councillors of the king, summon the armed men, and all the youth of the tribe, and let them take the sword and the spear, and follow thy servant. For lo! the Star bath announced to him that the foe shall fall into our hands as the wild beasts of the forests." The son of Osslah spoke with the voice of command, and the Then the elders communed together; and they went forth and summoned the men of arms, and all the young of the tribe; and each man took the sword and the spear, and Morven also. And the son of Osslah walked first, still looking up at the Star; and he motioned them to be silent and move with a stealthy step. So they went through the thickest of the forest, till they came to the mouth of a great cave, overgrown with aged and matted trees, and it was called the cave of Ordelin, and he bade the leaders place the armed men on either side the cave, to the right and to the left, among the bushes. So they watched silently till the night deepened, when they heard a noise in the cave and the sound of feet, and forth came an armed man; and the spear of Morven pierced him, and he fell dead at the mouth of the cave, Another and another, and both fell! Then loud and long was heard the war-cry of Alrich, and forth poured, as a stream over a narrow bed, the river of armed men. And the sons of Oestrich fell upon them, and the foe was sorely perplexed and terrified by the suddenness of the battle and the darkness of the night; and there was a great slaughter. And when the morning came, the children of Oestrich counted the slain, and found the leader of Alrich and the chief men of the tribe amongst them, and great was the joy thereof. So they went back in triumph to the city, and they carried the brave son of Osslah on their shoulders, and shouted forth "Glory to the servant of the Star." And Morven dwelt in the council of the wise men. Now the king of the tribe had one daughter, and she was stately amongst the women of the tribe, and fair to look upon. and Morven gazed on her with eyes of love, but did not dare to speak. Now the son of Osslah laughed secretly at the foolishness of men; he loved them not, for they had mocked him, he honored them not, for he had blinded the wisest of their elders. He shunned their feasts and merriment, and lived apart and solitary. The austerity of his life increased the mysterious homage which his commune with the Stars had won him, and the boldest of the wariors bowed his head to the favorite of the gods. One day he was wandering by the side of the river, and he saw a large bird of prey rise from the waters, and give chace to a hawk that had not yet gained the full strength of its wings, From his youth the solitary Morven had loved to watch, in the great forests and by the banks of the mighty stream, the habits of the things which nature has submitted to man; and looking now on the birds, he said to himself, "Thus it is ever; by cunning or by strength each thing wishes to master its kind." While thus moralising, the large bird had stricken down the hawk, and it fell terrified and panting at his feet. Morven took the hawk in his hands, and the vulture shrieked above him wheeling nearer and nearer to its protected prey; but Morven scared away the vulture, and placing the hawk in his bosom he carried it home, and tended it carefully, and fed it from his hand until it had regained its strength; and the hawk knew him, and followed him as a dog. And Morven said, smiling to himself," Behold, the credulous fools around me put faith in the flight and motion of birds. I will teach this poor hawk to minister to my ends." So he tained the bird, and tutored it according to its nature; but he concealed it carefully from others, and cherished it in secret. The king of the country was old and like to die. and the eyes of the tribe turned to his two sons, nor knew they which was the worthier to reign. And Morven passing through the forest one evening, saw the younger of the two, who was a great bunter, sitting mournfully under an oak, and looking with musing eyes upon the ground. Wherefore musest thou, O swift-footed Siror?" said the son of Osslah, "and wherefore art thou sad? "Thou canst not assist me," answered the Prince, sternly; "take thy way." "Nay," answered Morven, "thou knowest not what thou sayest; am I not the favorite of the Stars?" "Away, I am no greybeard whom the approach of death makes doting; talk not to me of the Stars; I know only the things that my eye sees, aud my ear drinks in." "Hush," said Morven, solemnly, and covering his face; "Hush! lest the heavens avenge thy rashness. But behold, the stars have given unto me to pierce the secret hearts of others, And I can tell thee the thoughts of thine." The next day, at noon, they met again. "I have consulted the gods of night, and they have given me the power I prayed for, but on one condition." "Name it." "That thou sacrifice thy sister on their altars; thou must build up a heap of stones, and take thy sister into the wood, and lay her on the pile, and plunge thy sword into her heart; so only shalt thou reign." The Prince shuddered, and started to his feet, and shook his spear at the pale front of Morven, "Tremble" said the son of Osslah, with a loud voice; "hark to the gods that threaten thee with death, that thou hast dared to lift thine arm against their servant." As he spoke, the thunder rolled above; for one of the frequent storms of the early summer was about to break. The spear dropped from the Prince's hand; he sate down and cast his eyes on the ground. "Wilt thou do the bidding of the Stars, and reign?" said Morven. "I will!" cried Siror, with a desperate voice. "This evening, then, when the sun sets, thou wilt lead her hither, alone; I may not attend thee. Now, let us pile the stones." Silently the huntsman bent his vast strength to the fragmen's of rock that Morven pointed to him, and they built the altar, and went their way. (To be continued.) THE PRODIGAL'S RETURN. But we WE hear with delight that-railway and other mundane business being at an end for the session-the Bishop of Manchester straightway returned to the diocese where he now is healing wounded souis, comforting the afflicted giving to those who ask, and shedding his benign influence all around. So great is our joy, that if we had a fatted calf it assuredly should yield up its breath in order to making ourselves and neighbours merry at the return of this prodigal son of the church. grieve to think that his presence amongst us will not be for long; and that, when Parliament re-opens and railway committees again set to work, our overseer of spiritual paupers will say "I'm off," and again leave them to get the bread of life where or how they can This it is which grieves us; we cannot bear to see spiritual destitution, and this feeling it was which moved us to take upon ourselves the cure of souls in the absence of him who, though like the prodigal has returned, not like the prodigal has repented. He still believes it possible to serve God and Mammon-to sit on railway committees without neglecting the cure of souls; and next session will (if he can) once more waste in the House of Lords, those precious moments which ought to be used in the service of "Christ and him crucified." We are shocked at such impious inconsistency; that, more than all the writings of all the infidels, tends to bring Christianity into contempt, and we solemnly adjure church as well as dissenting congregations, to "pronounce" against that part of our glorious constitu ion which permits Bishops to sit i. the House of Lords, or murder souls by murdering time on railway committees. We trust that congregations of every denomination will see the importance of this matter. Formerly appeals to their good sense were idle, as they had none, which fact may have given birth to the old story that two doctors-one of physic and the other of divinity-after dining together, antiteetotally began drinking, when the physician of bodies said My dear friend, here's a health to all the fools in your congregation." "Thank you," replied the physician of souls, "leave me all the fools and I will make you a present of the rest." But, since then, the schoolmaster has been abroad, and we do not think folly enters so largely into the composition of Christian congregations as in "good old times." We are deceived if those congregations much longer tolerate absentee bishops, or allow state-paid priests, while busying themselves with state politics, to neglect the immortal interests committed to their hands. NECESSITY. Look round the world-observe its order-its regularity-its design. Something must have created itthe design speaks a designer-in that certainty we first touch land. But what is that something?-a God you cry. Stay-no confused and confusing names. Of that which created the world, we know, we can know, nothing, save these attributes-Power and unvarying Regularity-stern-crushing-relentless Regularity-heeding no individual cases-rolling-sweeping -burning on-no matter what scattered hearts, severed from the general mass, fall ground and scorched beneath its wheels. The mixture of evil with good-the existence of suffering and of crime-in all times have perplexed the wise. They created a God-they supposed him benevolent. How then came this evil-why did he permit, nay, why invent-why perpetuate it? To account for this, the Persian creates a second spirit, whose nature is evil, and supposes a continual war between that and the God of good. In our own shadowy and tremendous Typhon, the Egyptians image a similar demon. Perplexing blunder that yet more bewilders us!-folly that arose from the vain delusion that makes a palpable-a corporeal—a human being— of this unknown power-that clothes the Invisible with attributes and a nature similar to the Seen. No-to this Designer let us give a name that does not command our bewildering associations-and the mystery becomes more clear that name is NECESSITY.BULWER'S Last days of Pompeii. NOTICE. THERE is (says Shakspeare) a tide in the affairs of men which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; and Byron thought there is also a tide in the affairs of women which, taken at the flood, leads God knows where. Although not women, there is, just now, a tide in OUR affiairs which, if taken at the flood, promises to land us God knows where. With Hall of Science for fulcrum, and Beacon for lever, who knows but we may realise the dream of Archimedes, and raise the world. To a certainty, prejudice is getting "small by degrees and beautifully less." Our contemporaries of the newspaper press pay us most respect ful attention, and the Cicero of Salford, Mr. William Morris, announced last Sunday to his pupils the flattering design "to keep an eye upon us." On Sunday morning and evening, lectures are attended by the very salt of this Manchester earth; and in the amusement department our success has been so decided, that Quadrille parties, &c., will not, as heretofore, be held on Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday merely, but also every Tuesday evening, till further notice. In the face of facts like these, who shall deny that we actually are "gaining hold of the people," or question the probability of our becoming Mayor of Manchester, or even reaching that height, than which what can be higher, the editorial throne of the Guardian. 'TWILL BE BRIGHTER IN THE SPRING. BY M. C. COOKE. When life puts on a cloudy mask, The weak are ready to despair, Then, in the hope of joy at last, To prop a broken reed- Then, in the hope of joy at last, Then, in the hope of joy at last, And thousands, week by week, Then, in the hope of joy at last, Then, in the midst of joy at last, The winter clouds have swiftly past- Published every Saturday, at the Hall of Science, Camp Field and sold by J. R. COOPER, Bridge Street, Manchester, and GEORGE SMITH, Greengate, and 10, Regent-Road, Salford. Printed by GEORGE SMITH, Bookseller and Stationer, Greengate, and 10, Regent Road, Salford. Single numbers forwarded to any part of the country, on receipt of two postage stamps. THE LANCASHIRE BEACON. No. 4.] Responsible Editor,-CHARLES SOUTHWELL, HALL OF SCIENCE, MANCHESTER. PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. HOW TO REFORM. CHAPTER I. The projectors of this periodical have two great objects in view-one is, to show the causes which lie at the root of bad government; the other, how they may be removed.-See Preliminary Address, No. 1. MANY polititions confound innovation with reform; but Burke justly said- We may innovate without reforming. It is possible to change institutions for the worse, and every such change is an evil; for, although not to advance be to retrograde, false steps in advance necessitate disheartening retreat far beyond the original point of departure. Hence the wisdom of political action which commands success because, in harmony with popular wants, and not too far u-head of popular opinion. "Reason," observed Frederick the Great, 66 prescribes a rule on this subject, from which no statesman ought to depart; which is, to seize occasion, and when that is favourable, to be enterprizing, but neither to force occasion, nor leave everything to chance." Let a people will reform, and reform is inevitable. This is the lesson taught by the golden aphorism of Lafayette-for a people to be free, it is sufficient that they will it. Obviously then, if our rulers do nothing, or worse than nothing, the fault is as much in us as them. Faithful to ourselves-and, at the same time, wise unto political salvation-they can do nothing against, nothing without, us. The people are the power after all. Whig, Tory, and all other factions would die the death political unless supplied and supported by them. We are apt to forget that "it is not so much the tyrant who makes the slave as the slave who makes the tyrant." Soulless, bloated churches, corrupt law courts, yea, corrupt Parliaments themselves (whence all corruption flows,) might easily be swept away were popular intelligence equal to popular power. The abstract unit called people, is a Hercules fully capable of cleansing our Augean stable. Force in alliance with error and ignorance is brute force which, quick to change, is slow to improve; whereas, force in alliance with knowledge and understanding, is slow to change but quick to improve. Men of knowledge and understanding want not change for change sake; they desire reform, not mere innovation, nor allow blind love of impracticable chimeras to warp their judgment or turn them from the only path by which progress may be made. Politically-wise they appreciate and act upon that beautiful truth nunciated by a modern poet :-Shallow streams maintain their currents, whilst swelling rivers oft beat down their banks and leave their channels empty. [PRICE, 1d. The people are like this giant. Their one eye, to be sure, has not been put out or mortally injured (if it were, nought but a miracle would restore it) but much damaged by state tormentors, who fancy it is not safe to let the people see too well the workings of that patent machinery they call constitutional government. Hence their anxiety that the governed should see through a glass darkly what is going on. Whigs and Tories equally profess to love the people-Whigs and Tories equally profess to legislate solely with a view to their best interests; but, though so wonderfully fond, neither faction wish the people perfectly cured of their blindness, nor at all relish popular meddling with politics. Both factions agree in arrogating to themselves the privilege of thinking and legislating for the "sovereign people." There is, however, a more than nominal difference between Whigs and Tories; for Whiggery may be likened to the sharper (thimble-rigger is the term used by my Lord Stanley) who, by sleight-of-hand tricks, swindles you out of your cash; whilst dashing, bold, high-bred Toryism suggests to one's imagination the bold footpad who, with pistol at breast, demands your money or your life. Between these worthies the governing power is pretty nearly divided, so that Sir Francis Burdett did not much slander when he declared that the people were crucified between two thieves-Redtapists, placemen, courtiers "Those gilded flies who, Basking in the sunshine of a court, Fatten on its corruption" vote through thick and thin for their "party" and like desperate fidelity, to the maxim boldly enunciated by all other hangers-on of bad governments cling, with Lord Carteret, that it is impossible to govern England but by corruption. Whilst agreeing with John Wesley that men cannot aim at too high a mark, we profess not faith in absolute perfectibility, but we believe in progress. Not progress to the devil, as Mr. D'Israeli denominates recent reforms, for our notion of progress points quite another way. Doubtless, much of our boasted reformi is progress to the devil, seeing that great advancement has lately been made by large numbers of our "dangerous classes," on the broad and beaten path to poverty; which, in this purse-proud world, we take to be hell enough to satisfy even clerical consciences. The progress towards God or Good, for which we hope and in which we believe, cannot be staved off or delayed one instant after a clear majority of the nation know how to reform. Then political time-serving Bishops, insolent Aristocrats, blood-sucking Usurers, fat Pluralists and half-starved Curates will be-no where. Then fools will be plucked from wisdom's seat, and honest men, judging righteous judgment, will try Law, Religion, Morals, and Politics by the test of inexorable utility. Then mere antiquity or custom will be pleaded in vain on behalf of errors and abuses profitable only to some privileged few. Then will appear, with awful distinctness, the handwriting on the wall in which oppressors and robbers will read their doom, and the axe being laid at the root of iniquitous legislation, those who legislate, those who preach, churchmen and statesmen all who have left duties unperformed, claims neglected, labour unrewarded and Poverty at the mercy of Wealth, unable to render a good account of their stewardship, will, as unprofitable servants, be cast into outer darkness there shall be weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. That day of judgment and reckoning for the wicked will be one of rejoicing for the good-for all who can rejoice in the triumph of justice upon earth. And in that good day coming we have faith, for the signs of these times unmistakeably indicate the decay of false creeds and the active growth of a new order of ideas. The Lazarus of politics is at present patiently, if not thankfully, picking up crumbs that fall from rich men's tables; but though corrupted by poverty and full of sores that dogs do lick, he has, nevertheless, a sound constitution, and must, in the natural order of events, be sooner or later transported to Abraham's bosom. Good surgery will bind up his wounds, good living heal them, and good teaching make the work of redemption easy. THE MICE OF ST. PETER'S. ONCE on a time, a colony of mice inhabited the vanlts which stretched along under the pavements of a mighty cathedral, a building unsurpassed in the grandeur of its design and elegance of execution-it was the great cathedral of St. Peter's at Rome. The stoney archetype of the religion whose votaries assemble daily beneath its massive dome. Here, undisturbed for years, had resided a colony of those beings who are the terror of cheese parings and candle-ends; and merrily they gamboled over the marble floor of that holy fane, when no intruding footstep of monk or sacristan terrified them by their approach and sent them whistling to their coverts below. Strange as it may seem, these animals, though apparently so happy and with so little to annoy them, could not dwell together within the walls, even of a sanctuary, in peace; and, ever and anon, their quarrels were carried to deadly feuds. One party of them, and that by no means a small one, declared that the architect of that building in which they dwelt, had designed the splendid dome above them, and the columns which supported it, the tasselated pavement, and the vaults below, especially for their use. In this only were they agreed:-Some of these declared that the great architect designed and executed it unaided, others that he only designed whilst a host of animals, superior to themselves, completed the design. Some believed that the building was commenced from below and grew up gradually beneath the the maker's hands; others, that it was commenced at the extreme height of the dome, and gradually expanded itself into the great building which they beheld around them; whilst a few declared that it was vomited forth, complete, from the capacious maw of its creator. And it is recorded, by those who watched their progress, that the most absurd notions prevailed amongst them; and that they actually believed that the great builder was always peeping at them through the windows, and was most delighted with those who bit and maimed all those bodies of mice who were the smallest in number and least powerful. But, there was also another party in this community, who contended, as furiously, that the whole building, though adapted for their residence, was never designed to have been a world expressly for such despicable animals as themselves. And thus were they engaged in continual dispute; and all the other factions forgot their quarrels, and united to rid themselves of these pestiferous opponents. On one occasion, a learned mouse-who was distinguished from the rest by the length of his nose and the sleekness of his fur-collected a number of his followers around him, and gave a discourse, most eloquent, on the intentions of the architect in erecting that cathedral for their sole use; and he remarked that they were also daily provided with the ends of wax candles, which made for them most delicate repasts; and occasionally pointed with his paw towards the carved roof and the sculptured I walls, and in tones--such as a mouse only could utter-implored them to be thankful to the great architect for his benefits to the children of mice. And the mice squeaked assent. "Extirpate then," said he, "those dangerous vermin who are seeking amongst you to destroy your love for this great mouse which has created you such a beautiful world. They are bring ing destruction into your very nests, and will cause the good creator to send the whiskered demon, with his great paws, and have died through eating those red tapes which have been sent bristly tail, to devour you; already many of your companions And the sleek-haired here as a punishment for your crimes !" speaker rolled his eyes—and the congregated mice rubbed their noses with their paws in token of submission. The concourse was broken up, and the enthusiastic believers scampered to their holes to wreak vengeance on the blasphemers. Soon there arose a cry, as of despair, from the vaults below--the deluders and deluded had seized all those who would not place their nose between their paws on the approach of the long-nosed mouse, and this being a denial of the great mouse, the sleekhaired demigod gave them over to their tormenters; and the mice who said the cathedral was not a beautiful place and created solely for the children of mice, were dragged into the darkest vault, their skins were torn off from their quivering flesh, and their claws were broken, and the good mice squeaked and gnashed their teeth. Suddenly the vaults were opened-a flash of light poured in -and the community was plunged into confusiou; before they had time to resist, even had they possessed the power, they were seized by an army of avenging cats, who had been let in, and the whole race was destroyed within the precints of the cathedral. In the height of their quarrels all precautions for their own safety had been forgotten, and the long face of the sleek-haired mouse was the first to disappear down the capacious throat of the destroyer. Still the cathedral stood as in days of old, and still the unburnt tapers remained at the altar unmolested-the inhabitants of the vaults were gone-but the rays of the moon fell as before through the painted windows of St. Peter's, upon the carved roof and the sculptured tombs. Voltaire says in a letter to Frederic the Great, when speaking of the theologians-" Every thinking being who is not of their opinion, is an atheist; and every king who does not favour them is to suffer damnation. Their words, when unnoticed, evaporate in wind; but, should the influence of authority interfere, the wind becomes a tempest which sometimes overturns the throne." |