of an immediate change, and strengthened the hands of the pope; but the "glorious time is rolling on," and the day cannot be far distant when the predictions of Scripture, with reference to the false church, must be realized. Her recent usurpations have weakened her cause in England, and opened the eyes of the people to her intolerant and aggressive spirit. Her triumphs in France will only give new power to the preaching of Protestants. While Adolph and Frederick Monod are allowed to preach in Paris, the night will not be very dark. In America, her converts are almost entirely from the ranks of the ignorant paupers who are being emptied upon our shores from the almshouses of Europe. I found, while in England and in France, that an idea existed that conversions were being made in intelligent families, and among men of office and honor, who are native-born Americans; but this is not a fact, as the statistics of Popery will show. Our country is, indeed, filling up with Catholics from foreign countries; but if I do not mistake, the American branch of the church will yet prove a most troublesome child for his ghostly eminence at Rome to manage. The Christian need not despair; God's hand is seen, and God's name is heard, in the changes and convulsions which are abroad among the nations; and if any great gain is made by his sovereign holiness, it will not correspond with the movements of the church of Rome for the last half century, which have been almost entirely backward. I cannot close these observations more appropriately than in the words of Hon. and Rev. Baptist W. Noel, addressed to a Papal missionary now in England:

"One thing I will predict, from the signs which are multiplying around us: You may endeavor to warp the minds of your partisans from infancy; you may

exercise the influence of the confessional to prevent the study of the Bible; you may impoverish the education of those within your power; you may compress and chain down the minds of thousands and of myriads; but you will yet see such an insurrection of the Catholic masses of Europe against your priestly sway, that while you are arguing about the rock,' you will find your sandy foundations giving way; and while you are proving your possession of the keys,' your prisoners, despite of keys and bolts, will burst from your thrall. dom forever."

XXXII.

FLORENCE.

THE hour came for me to leave mighty Rome, and alı its scenes of glory and shame. I did not regret it; for that renowned city contains so many objects of disgrace and wo, so much over which a philanthropist can but weep, that I turned from its museums and galleries of art, with no prospect of ever beholding them again, without any feeling of sorrow. There is little in Rome congenial with my feelings; and I was glad to be gone. The palaces of the Cæsars and the tombs of the Scipios are there, indeed; but what of that? Like Egypt, when the ten plagues were visiting the city of the Nile, Rome swarms with filth, fleas, fevers, and pestilence; and where once captive princes walked in chains of gold, and emperors rode along in victorious state, hungry cardinals and a besotted priesthood roam; and on the throne once filled by proud Cæsar sits a weak, imbecile old man, with a paper cap upon his head, receiving the adoration of a superstitious and ignorant people. I could look upon the pomp and aristocracy of the English nobility with some pleasure, for there seems a stately elegance in it; I could gaze upon the gay and voluptuous pleasures of Paris with some allowance, for nature has her will in Paris, and, like a goddess, sweeps along, receiving the homage of a blinded multitude; but with the hollow rites and foolish mockery of Rome my soul could have no fellowship It was neither natural,

grand, dignified, manly, or pleasing. The pomp of Rome is an insult to God and a disgrace to man, and utterly unworthy of rational beings. The mass of the people are blinded and in ignorance; but the higher ecclesiastics must be aware of the infamous fraud which they are practicing upon the multitude. Their religion is a cheat, and no man in his sober senses can deny it; and the priests must be aware that they are arrant impostors. Joe Smith, with his Book of Mormon, never perpetrated a greater deception than this same religion of Rome shows itself to be; and one feels relieved to be away from the dominion of the pope, out of sight of the cardinal's red hat, the chapeau of the lazy priests, and the dirty rig of the shaven-headed friars.

From Rome to Civita Vecchia by diligence, from thence to Leghorn by steamer, and from thence to Florence by railway, we hurried, arriving at the latter place on the 25th of June. Florence, or Firenze, as the Italians call it, is a city of about one hundred thousand inhabitants, lying on both sides of the "smiling Arno," and is one of the most gay and delightful places in Italy. It is the capital of Tuscany; and though, with the decline of Italy, it has lost much of its former glory, is yet full of life and gladness. Almost every day some frolick is carried on, or some saint celebrated, to the great amusement of strangers. We arrived on what we were told was San Victoria's day, and the whole people seemed to be out in masses. The day was observed with many civil and religious demonstrations, and ended in a horse race. Three horses were painted and lettered, and let loose in the public streets. The people crowded the sides of the thoroughfares and windows all along the race course by thousands, military men were parading up and down, and for some two hours we gazed from

the window of the hotel upon an array of beauty, fashion, pride, pomp, and vanity, such as I had never seen before. The houses all along were waving with drapery, which was suspended from the windows, and every thing gave evidence that some gay event was about to transpire. Well, when we had waited, stretched our necks, wondered at the pomp of the grand duke, and been amused at the hundred little pleasantries, a cry announced the approach of the horses, and soon they came leaping by, the little creatures all spotted with paint, like the cheeks of some of our fair ladies, and in a moment were out of sight. This was all the show was over, and the people began to disperse. We could see nothing pretty, funny, or interesting in the race of these three horses, which, from our window, looked very much like large wharf rats leaping by, and sending their heels into the faces of the crowds of people who lined the streets on both sides. The whole show reminded us of the exhibition of "three blind mice."

This race is the result of the folly of a man who died, leaving a sum of money, the income of which would be about three hundred dollars annually, which was to be appropriated to this purpose. Thus the people have a show day, the horses are run to death, several persons are kicked down and injured, to carry out the last will and testament of the Florentine Dives.

Florence, according to its name, is a city of flowers, and the flower girls meet you in every street; especially on the morning of the Sabbath are they out by hundreds, with their white arms and necks shaded by the wide hat, which gives a grace and beauty to the person which cannot be derived from the little, awkward, uncomely bonnet, resting so far back on the head that a paper of pins seems almost necessary to keep it on.