"But how is that to be done?" asked Carlos. Nevertheless, do all thou canst, and God prosper thee. Only," he added with great earnestness, "remember the necessities of our present position; and for the sake of our friends, as well as of our own lives, use prudence and caution."

"Fear not, my too prudent brother.—The best and dearest brother in the world," he added kindly, "if he had but a little more courage."

Thus conversing they hastily retraced their steps to the city, the hour being already late.

Quiet weeks passed on after this unmarked by any event of importance. Winter had now given place to spring, and the time of the singing of birds was come. In spite of numerous and heavy anxieties, and of one sorrow that pressed more or less upon all, it was still spring-time in many a brave and hopeful heart amongst the adherents of the new faith in Seville. Certainly it was spring-time with Don Juan Alvarez.

One Sunday a letter arrived by special messenger from Nuera, containing the unwelcome tidings that the old and faithful servant of the house, Diego Montes, was dying. It was his last wish to resign his stewardship into the hands of his young master, Señor Don Juan. Juan could not hesitate. "I will go to-morrow morning," he said to Carlos; "but rest assured I will return hither as soon as possible; the days are too precious to be lost."

Together they repaired once more to Donna Isabella's house. Don Juan told the friends they met there of his intended departure, and ere they separated many a hand warmly grasped his, and many a voice spoke kindly the "Vaya con Dios" for his journey.

"It needs not formal leave-takings, señores and my brethren," said Juan; "my absence will be very short; not next Sunday indeed, but possibly in a fortnight, and certainly this day month I shall meet you all here again."

“God willing," said Losada gravely. And so they parted.

"

CHAPTER XXII.

THE FLOOD-GATES OPENED.

And they feared as they entered into the cloud." FOR the first stage of Don Juan's journey Carlos accompanied him. They spent the time in animated talk, chiefly about Nuera, Carlos sending kind messages to the dying man, to Dolores, and indeed to all the household. "Remember, brother," he said, "to give Dolores the little books I put into the alforjas, specially the 'Confession of a Sinner.'"

"I shall remember everything, even to bringing thee back tidings of all the sick folk in the village. Now, Carlos, here we agreed to part;-no, not one step further."

They clasped each other's hands. long parting," said Juan.

"It is not like a

"No. Vaya con Dios, my Ruy." "Quede con Dios,* brother ;" and he rode off, followed by his servant.

Carlos watched him wistfully; would he turn for a last look? He did turn. Taking off his velvet montero, he gaily bowed farewell; thus allowing Carlos to gaze once more upon his dark, handsome, resolute features, keen, sparkling eyes, and curling black hair.

Whilst Juan saw a scholar's face, thoughtful, refined, sensitive; a broad pale forehead, from which the breeze had blown the waving fair hair (fair to a southern eye, though really a bright soft brown), and lips that kept the old sweetness of expression, though, whether from the fringe that graced them or from some actual change, the weakness which marred them once had ceased to be apparent now.

Another moment, and both had turned their horses' heads. Carlos, when he reached the city, made a circuit to avoid one of the very frequent processions of the Host, since as time passed on he felt ever more and more disinclined to the absolutely necessary prostration. Afterwards he called upon Losada, to inquire the exact address of a person whom he had asked him to visit. He found him engaged in his character of physician, and sat down in the patio to await his leisure.

Ere long he passed through, politely accompanying to the gate a canon of the cathedral, for whose ailments he had just been prescribing. The churchman, who was evidently on the best terms with his physician, was showing his good-nature and affability by giving him the current news of the city; to which Losada listened courteously, with a grave, quiet smile, and, when necessary, an appropriate question or comment. Only one item made any impression upon Carlos: it related to a pleasant estate by the sea-side which Munebraga had just purchased, disappointing thereby a relative of the eanon's who desired to possess it, but could not command the very large price readily offered by the Inquisitor.

Remain with God.

At last the visitor was gone. In a moment the smile had faded from the physician's care-worn face. Turning to Carlos with a strangely altered look, he said, "The monks of San Isodro have fled."

"Fled!" Carlos repeated, in blank dismay.

"Yes; no fewer than twelve of them have abandoned the monastery."

"How did you hear it?"

"One of the lay brethren came in this morning to inform me. They held another solemn Chapter, in which it was determined that each one should follow the guidance of his own conscience; those, therefore, to whom it seemed best to go have gone, the rest remain."

For some moments they looked at each other in silence. So fearful was the peril in which this rash act involved them all, that it almost seemed as if they had heard a sentence of death.

The voice of Carlos faltered as he asked at last, "Have Fray Cristobal or Fray Fernando gone?"

"No; they are both amongst those more generous if not more wise, who have chosen to remain and take what God will send them here. Stay, here is a letter from Fray Cristobal which the lay brother brought me; it will tell you as much as I know myself.” ·

Carlos read it carefully. "It seems," he said, when he had finished, "that the consciences of those who fled would not allow them any longer to conform, even outwardly, to the rules of their order. Moreover, from the signs of the times, they believe that a storm is about to burst upon the company of the faithful."

"God grant it may prove that they have saved themselves from its violence," Losada answered, with a slight emphasis on "themselves."

"And for us?-God help us!" Carlos almost moaned, the paper falling from his trembling hand. "What shall we do?"

"Be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might," returned Losada bravely; "no other strength remains for us. But God grant none of us in the city may be so unadvised as to follow the example of the brethren. The flight of one might be the ruin of all." "And those noble, devoted men who remain at San Isodro?"

"Are in God's hands, as we are."

"I will ride out and visit them, especially Fray Fernando."

"Excuse me, Señor Don Carlos, but you will do nothing of the kind; that were to court suspicion. I will bear any message you choose to send."

"And you?"

Losada smiled, though sadly. "The physician has occasion to go," he said; "he is a very useful personage, who often covers with his ample cloak the dogmatizing heretic."

Carlos recognized the official phraseology of the Holy Office. He repressed a shudder, but could not hide the look of terror that dilated his large blue eyes.

The older man, the more experienced Christian, could

compassionate the youth. Losada, himself standing "face to face with death,” spoke kind words of counsel and comfort to Carlos. He cautioned him strongly against losing his self-possession, and thereby running needlessly into danger. "Especially would I urge upon you, Señor Don Carlos," he said, “the duty of avoiding unnecessary risk, for already you are useful to us; and should God spare your life, you will be still more so. If I fall-"

"Do not speak of it, my beloved friend."

"It will be as God pleases," said the pastor calmly. "But I need not remind you, others stand in like peril with me. Especially Fray Cassiodoro, and Don Juan Ponce de Leon."

"The noblest heads, the likeliest to fall," Carlos murmured.

"Then must younger soldiers step forth from the ranks, and take up the standards dropped from their hands. Don Carlos Alvarez, we have high hopes of you. Your quiet words reach the heart; for you speak that which you know, and testify that which you have seen. And the good gifts of mind that God has given you enable you to speak with the greater acceptance. He may have much work for you in his harvest-field. But whether he should call you to work or to suffer, shrink not, but 'be strong and of good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed; for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.

"I will try to trust him; and may he make his strength perfect in my weakness," said Carlos. "But for the present," he added, "give me any lowly work to do, whereby I may aid you or lighten your cares, my loved friend and teacher."

Losada gladly gave him, as indeed he had done several times before, instructions to visit certain secret inquirers, and persons in distress and perplexity of mind.

He passed the next two or three days in these ministrations, and in constant prayer, especially for the remaining monks of San Isodro, whose sore peril pressed heavily on his heart. He sought, as much as possible, to shut out other thoughts; or, when they would force an entrance, to cast their burden, which otherwise would have been intolerable, upon Him who would surely care for his own Church, his few sheep in the wilderness.

One morning he remained late in his chamber, writing a letter to his brother; and then went forth, intending to visit Losada. As it was a fast day, and he kept the Church fasts rigorously, it happened that he had not previously met any of his uncle's family.

The entrance to the physician's house did not present its usual cheerful appearance. The gate was shut and bolted, and there was no sign of patients passing in or out. Carlos became alarmed. It was long before he obtained an answer to his repeated calls. At last, however, some one inside cried, "Quien es ?”* Carlos gave his name, well known to all the household.

* Who is there?

JOINING the Church is one thing, but joining the Lord Jesus is quite another thing; and only those who have done the second have any clear right to do the first. The main cause of inconsistency and failure in the lives of too many professors of religion, is that they make a formal union with the Church without any heart-union to Christ. Almost their solitary act of loyalty was their standing up to respond to a Church covenant before the pulpit. From that time onward their divine Master had no more of them than their idle name on the roll of his followers. They enlisted, they entered their names on the record, and "straightway are heard of no more." They made no tie to anything but an organized body of professed Christians; they did not knit their souls to the Saviour.

"But am I not to join the Church?" inquires some one who is indulging a hope of pardon and of the new birth. Yes, friend, join the Church, provided that you have already joined Jesus. If you unite yourself to nothing stronger than to a company of frail, fallible fellow-creatures, and expect them to tow you along by the power of their fellowship and prayers, then you have but a poor chance of reaching the "desired haven." But genuine conversion unites your heart in clinging faith to the Friend of sinners. When you take the step of confessing this faith before men, you literally and truly join the Lord. You join your weakness to his strength; you join your ignorance to his wisdom, your unworthiness to his merits, your frailty to his enduring might, and your poverty to his boundless wealth. The fair peasant girl who married an Emperor of Russia became a sharer of his palace and his crown. When you wed your heart and hand to Jesus, you become a sharer in his kingdom and crown, a joint heir with Christ! The joint heir has the promise of the Father's love; of the indwelling of the Spirit; of the peace of God; of pleasures for evermore; and of the society of all the just made perfect throughout eternity! "Where I am, there shall ye be also."

What a glorious thought this is! What a different conception it is from that of merely "joining a church" of fellow-creatures. You really join Christ. Your heart joins his heart. Your life is knit by hidden links to his; because he lives, ye shall live also. Your destiny is bound to his; and ye shall be kept by the power of God, through faith, unto salvation. If you have a real faith, however feeble, confess it. If you have renounced sin and self, and come to Jesus, then "join yourself to the Lord in a perpetual covenant, that shall not be forgotten."

Many who have a secret faith in Christ hold back too long from a public confession. Waiting to become stronger, they only grow weaker. They are like the timid child who should try to learn to walk without ever getting on its feet. For fear of a tumble they lie still. On the whole, I rather like the venture of Simon Peter out of the fishing-boat to walk to Jesus on the waves. For, though he began to sink, he also began to pray. He found that sinking times were praying times, and when we learn that, we know where to reinforce our own weakness by laying hold on the infinite strength. But for a true convert to confess Christ is really not a walking on the water. He has under him the solid rock of God's promises.

"How soon should I join the Church?" The best answer we can give to this question is―Just as soon as your heart has joined the Saviour. Not one moment before that. When God gives conversion, he demands confession. Make the most of your early love. If your heart goes out to Jesus in loving trust, then stand up for him, and with him, and joining your hand to his, take the blessed vows of spiritual wedlock. The whole drift of the Bible is in favour of prompt approach to Christ, prompt trust in Christ, prompt confession of Christ, and prompt obedience to his every call to duty. The teaching of the Word is

"Whatsoever HE saith to you, do it." But the devil's version reads-" Whatsoever He saith to you, delay it.”

Our pastoral observation has convinced us that people sometimes commit two great mistakes.

The saddest mistake is committed by those who join a church without joining Christ. This solemn mockery of professing a faith that is not really possessed, has cost many an one the most indescribable misery and mischief. May God in his mercy keep you from such a false stepit may be a fatal one.

The other mistake is that of delaying the acknowledgment and open confession of that blessed Saviour, who, when he gives us himself, demands that we give ourselves to him. Have you given your heart to Jesus? Then give him your hand in a public and perpetual covenant, that shall never be forgotten.

N the year 1510, a young Augustine monk of Erfurt was sent to the court of Pope Julius II. at Rome, on business entrusted to him by his order. He was an earnest and devout man, full of the enthusiasm of Christian faith, and an excellent student of the Holy Scriptures. To him Rome was the fountain, not only of ecclesiastical authority, but the seat of learning, piety, and holiness. As he approached the city of St. Peter, the metropolis of the Catholic world, he threw himself on the earth and exclaimed, “Holy Rome, I salute thee." He had not been long in the city, however, before his illusions were dispelled. His office as envoy of the Augustines of Germany introduced him to the highest ecclesiastical society. Warm and generous in his religious feelings, he was astonished to find impiety when he looked for sanctity, buffoonery when he expected dignity, profanation when he dreamed only of purity. He was not only surprised at the superficial triviality of all the religious services of Rome, but amazed at its social disorders. And the conclusion of his extended observations on Roman religion and society was, to use his own vigorous sentence, "If there be a hell, Rome is built above it. It is an abyss from whence all sins proceed." Rome made a profound impression on Luther's mind. It converted him from Romanism. He declared " that the nearer he approached Rome, the greater number of bad Christians he found." Macchiavelli, one of the most profound geniuses of Italy, who was living in Florence when Luther passed through that city on his way to Rome, confirmed the great Reformer's testimony; for he said in one of his characteristic dissertations, that "the nearer we approach the capital of Christendom, the less do we find of Christian spirit in the people." "We Italians," he says, 66 are principally indebted to the Church and to the priests for having become impious and profligate." The monk of Erfurt felt, later in life, all the importance of this journey to Rome. one would have given me a hundred thousand florins," said he, "I would not have missed seeing Rome." Nor has Rome changed since the day that Luther trod its old pavements and visited its matchless temples. The same Vatican and Quirinal, the same churches and

From "The Biblical Repertory."

"If any

cathedrals, are still the shrines of the same infallible, unchangeable, corrupt, politico-religious dynasty. It is the Eternal City. The Church of Rome calls itself Christian. The city of Rome announces itself as the mother-city of the Christian world. It is full of Christian names, emblems, and symbols; and yet, even a short sojourn in the imperial city must convince any thoughtful scholar, a devout Christian soul, that ancient paganism has never fallen. The imperial purple has simply given way to the ecclesiastical scarlet. The much-boasted triumph of Constantine was really a victory of paganism. It was with idolatry as with Greece“Grecia capta ferum victorem cepit." This conviction will be inwrought, in spite of former contrary prepossessions and ideas, by a brief residence in that marvellous city, which is at once the Rome of the Pontifex Maximus of the old temples of mythology, and of the Pontifex Maximus of the grander cathedrals of St Peter's.

Romanism can never be perfectly apprehended by a Protestant without a personal investigation. No statement or description of it, however exact, can convey a perfect or just idea of its system and worship. Language is incapable of expressing or communicating its peculiar flavour. The pure reason cannot comprehend a system which addresses itself so largely to the senses. It must

be seen, and touched, and handled, before a Protestant intelligence can accurately conceive it. Nor can it be seen well except at Rome. Other Roman Catholic cities are not wholly given up to ecclesiastical parade and display. The rush and whirl of secular or commercial life in the great cities of Catholic Europe obscure the movements of the Church. But at Rome, Romanism has its perfect work. Nothing mars or confuses the impression. There is the seat of its influence, of its art, of its power-there it sits as God in the temple of God-there it has wrought itself out without hindrance, and shown what it can do in religion, politics, and society. Every department of human life has felt its hand and been fashioned by its genius. Rome is the product of Romanism. In other states there have been more or less drawbacks to her ascendancy. Their rulers or their subjects have proved refractory, and refused to be moulded at her will. But Rome has had no law but her word, and is the flower and the fruitage of her un