the miraculous image impressed upon it. Here is a list of some of the relics which are adored at Rome: At S. Maria Maggiore, five boards of the manger in which the Holy Child was laid, also some of the stones from the stable, and some of the straw on which the Divine Infant reposed. At Santa Croce, a piece of the true cross, the title which Pilate wrote, St. Thomas's finger, and some of the hair of the infant Jesus. At the church of the Twelve Apostles, parts of the arms of Bartholomew and James the Less, Paul's fingers, and parts of the manger, of the cradle, of the cross, and of the tomb of Christ. At the Lateran, the table on which the Last Supper was laid, the stairs and two columns of Pilate's house, and the slab on which the soldiers cast lots. At S. Silvestro in Capite, the head of John the Baptist. At the Church of St. Augustine, on a rich velvet cushion enclosed in a glass case, the cord with which Judas hung himself—not a very holy relic, I presume also the wing of the archangel Gabriel, the comb of the cock that crowed when Peter denied his Master, the staff with which Moses divided the Red Sea, and the beard of Noah. These are only a sample. How people can be brought to believe in such absurdities it is difficult to imagine.

Another feature of Romanism in full development at Rome is the system of indulgences. Over many church doors you may read, "Indulgence plenary and perpetual for the living and the dead." And this indulgence, as far as one can gather, means liberation either entire or for some specified time from the pains of purgatory. By visiting in Advent the church of Santa Croce, 11,000 years of indulgence and remission of all one's sins are obtained; by a single visit to other churches, as Saints Cosmas and Damian, 1000 years, and on the day of the station 10,000 years; by kissing the foot of

the idol of St. Agostino, 100 days' indulgence. So that a devout Roman in his daily walk may obtain every year of his life indulgence for 401,500 years. Over some of the altars is inscribed, "Each mass said at this altar liberates a soul from purgatory." No wonder fervent, pious Luther should say when in Rome, "How much do I regret that my father and mother are still alive! How delighted I should be to deliver them from the fires of purgatory by my masses and my prayers." Now on the hypothesis that the pains of purgatory really exist, and that indulgences are not a delusion, it is an inexcusable fault of the Roman Cathoile world if any man, woman, or child ever goes into purgatory, or if anyone is now left there of all that have hitherto died. The marvel is, that by this there should be any purgatory at all; or if in existence, it is not put altogether aside as a useless and obsolete affair. The influence of this system on the minds and conduct of the baser sort may be easily imagined. It has no converting or restraining power. It matters not how bad a man may be, he has only to confess his misdoings, and he obtains indulgence-the remission of the penalty of his sins. Cleansed from the past, there is no reason why he should not plunge again in crime, for he has the certainty of acquittal on easy terms. What robber, for instance, need fear the face of man, when he is a true and devout son of the Church? What spoiler of life, or virtue, need dread the future when the Church teaches him to sin with impunity, and rewards his perpetual offences with her perpetual indulgence?

It has been well said, "The social condition of a people is always a fair corollary of its religious character. The quality of a religion can be determined by its effects upon the lower classes of a nation." One of the distinguishing characteristics of Christianity is, that to the poor the

gospel is preached. And wherever a true and pure Christianity is found, poverty is relieved and removed, because the sin is destroyed out of which so much poverty springs. On the other hand, where in place of Christianity you find its counterfeit, a false religion and superstition, you find also its consequences crime, vice, and poverty. Apply this test to the religion in Rome. What do we find in Rome? Not charity, justice, and good-will between man and man, as Dr. Manning boldly asserts, but on the contrary, poverty, misery, insecurity, injustice, robbery, and murder. The people live and die like dogs; the houses where the "humbler classes" swarm are fetid pigsties; the streets are full of cringing, clamorous beggars; robbery and assassination are of daily occurrence; men prey on each other; the officials of the law connive at offences; it is more dangerous to be a quiet citizen than a criminal; and the words of Luther are true to-day, "It is incredible what sins and atrocities are committed in Rome."

But a new era has dawned at length. The horizon is changing.

The promise of better days, of better government, is shining through the darkness. The loud, long cry that has gone up for wearying ages, "Watchman, what of the night ?” receives at last a hopeful answer. The morning cometh. The morning has dawned-the morning of civil and religious liberty. For after years of long and anxious waiting, after years of severe and bitter struggle, after many a sigh, and prayer, and sacrifice, the old watchword has become a reality, and Rome is the capital of Italy; and I doubt not that speedily under the guidance of Victor Emmanuel she will be cleansed from her terrible corruptions, and take an honourable place among the cities of the world. But a higher freedom awaits her-the true gospel liberty. The barriers are broken down, and the soldiers of the cross have gone forth; and everywhere men are ready to go and publish the glad tidings of peace and joy. Brothers, let us share in the privilege and glory, and from our little band send one to preahc the gospel to them "who are in Rome also." Hitchin, Herts.

SUCH was the sound advice of the venerable Polonius to his son Laertes, when "the wind sat in the shoulder of the sail and he was staid for." However desirous the honest traveller may be to follow it, he will sometimes find himself in danger of being "true" only to his prejudices. A dread of this has greatly restrained me from giving "voice to my observations during my brief travel in America. No furlough was ever more enjoyable. The friend with whom I had the honour of

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travelling was well known and highly esteemed for his work's sake. Once or twice the penalty to be paid for his popularity proved a little irksome, but this was more than counterbalanced by the cordial hospitality which on many occasions it secured.

Our route extended from New York to Richmond, Virginia, in the South; the Mammoth Caves of Kentucky and Chicago in the West; thence, after a week at Niagara, down the St. Lawrence to Montreal and Quebec, in the

North; returning to New York by way of Saratoga and the Hudson River. This circuit occupied the larger portion of our time. The smaller portion was devoted to Boston and other places of interest in the New England States, the Green Mountains, St. John's, New Brunswick, and Halifax, Nova Scotia, whence we embarked for the homeward voyage. Considering the distance travelled, and the great variety of character met with, our disagreeables were most trivial; more frequently than not simply humorous. They have long since been forgotten, whilst the agreeables derived from the intelligent society, the new scenes of natural magnificence, the commercial prosperity, the philanthropic institutions, the educational systems, the freedom and earnestness of religious opinion, the advancing political greatness of the American people, produced impressions which will always be remembered with deepest interest. Now and then we encountered some strong blasts of dissatisfaction with England, on account of the course she had taken during the war just ended; but they were soon over, and served rather to agitate opinion than to ruffle temper.

Had the Pacific Railway been open, we might have followed the example of more recent visitors to America, and taken a peep at San Francisco and the Salt Lake. This was impossible in the time. We saw enough, however, and more than enough to supply us with a rich fund of most pleasurable recollections, some of which will be narrated in this and one or two succeeding papers.

We left Liverpool on the 20th of April, 1866. A bright spring morning did its best to disperse the home clouds that naturally gathered about the heart at leave-taking. Our ferry boat" for the Atlantic voyage was the finest of the Cunard fleetthe "Scotia," Captain Judkins. As she lay in mid-stream in the Mersey she looked gallant enough to quell the fears of the most timid voyager. A steam tender took us alongside. Our first concern was to discover the berth, or "State Room," as it is facetiously called, which had been secured for myself and companion some six weeks previously. We found that "distance" had lent considerable "" chantment to the view," as regards the square feet of accommodation. Of

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course being still in British waters, we were not debarred the Englishman's privilege of grumbling. Our goodnatured steward, however, who cheerily introduced himself to us by the immortal name of "John Smith," at once did his best to divert attention from the limited area of our sleeping quarters to the glories of the steamship generally, viewed not so much in its fragmentary parts as in its massive completeness.

Calm weather in St. George's Channel and the Irish Sea, allowed everybody to enjoy at least one opportunity of taking his, or her, appointed place at the saloon table. With 240 passengers on board, close packing was foreboded. But it was not long before elbow room became abundant.

After taking the mails on board at Queenstown, where the greater part of our first Sunday was spent, we came in for what the Captain called "the tail end of a storm." As a landsman, I should have thought it the "head and front of the offending." The sublime and the ridiculous were soon brought into close proximity to each other. Those able to do so, expatiated eloquently on the grandeur of the ocean billows; but most of the prostrate forms on deck or in their berths, would greatly have preferred the grandeur of being able to stand upright. I believe there is an old joke about Britannia, to the effect, that if she really "rules the waves," it would be exceedingly considerate of her to rule them straight. I endorse the sentiment.

The storm, however, only lasted a couple of days. Then came calmer weather, occasionally bright sunshine, affording opportunity for many pleasant hours of friendly chat. "Who's who?" was a frequent enquiry. The most notable, though the least obtrusive of our fellow voyagers, was the late Mr. George Peabody, who was on his way to his last visit to his native land. He seldom came on deck. Whist appeared his favourite amusement. True to his ruling passion, he gave his winnings, at the end of the voyage, to an excellent lady, who had brought under his attention her valuable mission agencies for benefiting the London poor. The sum amounted, I believe, to about £9. I do not know that the losers in the hazard were consulted about this rather odd donation. The intimacies of ship-board life are often as genial as

they are transient. To-day we seem to know all about the fellow voyager with whom the deck is paced, or whose seat is at the same table. To-morrow farewell is said, and nothing more of each other is ever heard.

The American passengers celebrated the termination of the voyage by supping together on its last evening. The ladies responded for themselves to the toasts drank in their honour.

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Early on May morning we arrived off Sandy Hook. The sun shone on a pleasant undulating landscape. Our long-continued "good sea view gladly exchanged for the sight of pleasant homes in the midst of fresh green meadows and spring foliage.

"Which is New York?" "Which is Brooklyn ?" "Which is New Jersey?" "Is that Long Island ?" "Are we in the Hudson River ?" "Have we passed Staten Island ?" Such were

the questions asked and answered as one passenger after another came on deck, some of whom had put in no appearance since we left Queenstown. Then came the enquiry-" How are we to get ashore ?" Shall we go into dock ?" "No; we cannot, for the "Persia is in the way," ready to carry the good news of our safe arrival to anxious friends at home. We must anchor in the stream, and away go the heavy chains. A couple of tenders, one for the mails, the other for the passengers-but "mails first, if you will excuse it, ladies"'—are soon alongside. The landing effected, customhouse officers begin their usual assault upon every conceivable description of "band-box and bundle."

This was

accomplished under the cover of a spacious shed on the New Jersey side of the river. No unnecessary delay or annoyance was experienced; and as we were burdened with nothing more suspicious than some old manuscript sermons, we easily passed the ordeal.

The first thought of every Englishman on reaching either sea-port or railway terminus, may be expressed in the monosyllable "cab." But let him beware of thus giving vent to his pentup feelings on arriving at New York. He will pay dearly for it if he does. For one thing, he will find neither the smart "Hansom," nor one-horse "fourwheeler" on the stand waiting his command; nor yet any porter in uniform on the alert to look after his luggage.

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This he must do for himself, unless he has previously given it in charge of some express baggage master," with proper directions for its destination. He will then be free to walk, or take a street tramway car, or possibly an omnibus. But unless he is bent upon parting speedily with all his dollars, he had better set his face like a flint against the temptation to take a "hack." Such is the term applied to sombre looking two horse coaches, waiting here and there for hire. The "hackman," or driver, is, or was, his own chancellor in levying the tax he charges for his services. These services, however, are rarely needed, in consequence of the excellent organization of the street railways. A few cents, for example, will cover the cost of riding from one end of New York to the other. The conveniences of the

'express man" are also very great. On taking a railway ticket, a numbered brass label is attached by a leather thong to your portmanteau. A counter brass ticket is given to the owner. During the journey an "express man' passes through the carriages, who, if required, will take this ticket, giving a receipt for it, and thus authorized convey aforesaid portmanteau to whatever resting place its possessor may wish. I often found my luggage waiting for me at my hotel, and seldom had to wait for it.

My first impressions of New York were, I suppose, about as favourable as first impressions of London would be on landing at Wapping; certainly not so favourable as Liverpool or Birkenhead would create. We crossed the Hudson from New Jersey by steam ferry, a breadth of about two miles, and found crows' nest accommodation in the "Fifth Avenue Hotel." Hotel life is an American Institution, and in this hotel it thrives vigorously. The spacious entrance hall serves the purpose of a social "exchange." It is the centre of a circumference of shops. This swing door leads into a barber's shop, that into a tailor's, another into a hatter's or perfumer's. Near the entrance is the news room. Do not be surprised if at some hotels you see gentlemen cooling their feet at the open window, whilst warming their commercial sympathies with the latest intelligence. Close at hand is also a railway ticket office, where you can both purchase

your ticket and get your luggage labelled for your next destination. Those "darkies," sitting in a row by the side of the clerks' counter, are the waiters, ready at an instant's call, from the official who has entered your name and fixed the number of your room, to attend to you. Some of them have numbered many summers, but they are all called "boys."

The billiard room, and also the bar room, where the most astounding concoctions of drink are supplied, оссиру a prominent position. No meals can be obtained out of regular meal hours. This is sometimes rather disappointing to hungry arrivals.

The dining and drawing rooms are on a magnificent scale. A "vertical railway, or "lift," is in constant work, by which the up and down journeys from ground floor to attic can be made. My impression of the Hotel Institution was not in its favour. It appeared detrimental to family and home life. The difficulty of obtaining servants, or "helps," doubtless renders it a necessity. Its influence upon the little children seemed especially opposed to the restraints of good discipline. "What will you give me?" said a little fashionably dressed girl, about eight or ten years old, of whom we had taken some passing notice in an hotel drawing room, "gentlemen always give me something who talk to me."

Our stay in New York on our first arrival was very short, as we were anxious to forestall the hot weather, which we knew to be preparing for us in the South. Before leaving we accepted the invitation of a friend at Manhattanville, on the banks of the Hudson, to inspect a large Reformatory for boys and girls. The order and cleanliness were perfect. The school departments were also excellent. In the sick ward a little child was dying, evidently in much pain. I expressed surprise that so many other children should be in the same room, some of whom were well enough to be chattering or playing together; but the answer I received from the matron was-"Oh! well, I guess it will do them good to see her die." Perhaps so, but it had a harsh sound-more official than motherly.

Having armed ourselves with American paper, we proceeded to Philadelphia.

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Our railway car was provided with a stove, and also with a negro for stoker, whose business it seemed to be to test our capacities for enduring a burning heat before going further South. We were well nigh suffocated. Fortunately the cars are so constructed, that the passenger can turn outside on the entrance platform at either end, where he will obtain plenty of fresh air, though sometimes also plenty of dust. I found the cars comfortable for a short journey, but very fatiguing for a long one, as they afford no resting place for the head. The great American physical difficulty, however, appeared to be not the head but the feet-a difficulty that I once saw adroitly met by the head being rested on the seat, with the feet thrust out of the window.

Perhaps a word or two descriptive of the differences between the American railways and our own, which most caught my notice, may be best given here, while we are supposed to be en route from New York to Philadelphia. There is very seldom any distinction in class, though on certain lines, I was informed, separate cars are provided for immigrants and negroes. Every railway engine has a cow catcher" in front a sort of strong wooden tray, the name of which indicates the use. The drivers are well protected from the weather. They have the reputation of being reckless, but no evidence of the charge came under my observation.

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The unprotected state of the lines often astounds the stranger. They are frequently laid by the side of the high road, through the heart of villages, and often run into the centre of the principal street of a town, without any embankment or fencing. The signal of an approaching train is a bell attached to the engine. "Look out for the locomotive when the bell rings," is a common public notice.

The first car is appropriated for smokers, the last usually for ladies. The following outspoken placard in a carriage might be useful at home:"No smoking allowed in this car; all persons using this car to be tidy, and not to put their feet on the seats.

The conductor in charge of the train, both collects and sells tickets whilst the train is in motion. This is done between the stations. Passengers