At the close of his sermon, or tirade against the Protestant religion, he sat down. I rose up in the window, much excited, to see if the Rev. Mr. Q---- would not call him to an account, when I was much gratified to see the meek and gentle form of Mr. Q---- slowly rising about the middle of the house. Said he: “Bishop, you said in your sermon last night that there were now two hundred millions of faithful Catholic children in the world, against which the gates of hell could not prevail. Will you be kind enough to tell us where they are?” The bishop rose with a half-courteous and half-disdainful smile, and said, “You need not ask me such a question as that; the regions they occupy are all marked on your own Protestant geographies; your little boys in the streets can point you to them, where they have been marked in black lines,” and took his seat. “Well,” said Mr. Q----, “I would prefer you would name the countries to which they belong.” He rose again with a most indignant frown. Said he, “I suppose it would be rather humbling to one who calls himself a preacher to go to the little boys for information, so I will name some, at least, of the countries that are Catholic: France, Austria, most of Germany, Hungary, and Poland; and we shall soon have England, as part of the church there is only separated from us now by name; and Spain and Mexico are ours entirely;” and he took his seat again. “Well,” said Mr. Q----, “do you think we should gain any thing as a nation by changing our Protestant religion for that of Mexico and Spain?” and he took his seat. The bishop arose still more indignant in manner, and said, “I really cannot understand what you mean, sir, unless you refer to your boasted liberties in this country; but if that is what you mean, sir, I can tell you I would rather go to heaven from Mexico or Spain, than to hell from the midst of all your boasted liberties.” By this time the audience had become intensely interested. Said I, “Mr. Bishop, I want to ask you a few questions by way of gaining information. If I understood you right last night, you said your church was infallible; that it never had erred, and never could err.” He replied very indignantly, “I said, sir, that the Catholic church never had erred, and never could err.” “Well, sir,” said I, “it was once right to put Protestants to death for their religion, and of course it is still right.” He replied, “That is a Protestant falsehood, sir; the church never put any one to death.” Said I, “Sir, I can prove what I say by the faithful records of history.” “Protestant authority--we could not admit such testimony, sir.” “Well,” said I, “whether you admit it or not, the blood of martyred millions is crying for vengeance, and the day of divine recompense will erelong come.”