The Spaniard not treating this declaration with implicit faith, but, with his suspicions awakened, watched during the night, with his pistols loaded, beside the body of his brother. Between twelve and one o’clock, a knock was heard at the door, and a voice exclaimed, “I command you to open the door, in the name of the living God! Open! if not, your instant ruin is at hand.” The Spaniard refused; and shortly after he saw enter, by the window, three figures, covered with the skins of wild beasts, provided with horns, claws, and tails; and, as they were about carrying off the coffin containing the body, the Spaniard fired, and shot one of them dead; the others took to flight; he fired after them, and wounded both. One of them died in a few minutes, the other escaped. In the morning, a discovery was made: the people went to church, but there was no curate to officiate: it was found shortly after, on examining those who had been shot, that one was the curate, the other the vicar; the person wounded was the sacristan, who confessed the whole plot. The case was brought before the tribune of Barcelona.[M] And yet, despite of the frequent exposure of its wicked pretences, the Romish church contends at this hour as earnestly for the possession of miraculous endowments as it ever did. As it claims to be unchangeable, this is manifestly its only course. Accordingly, it has been affirmed of the last persons added to the Romish calendar, only a few years ago, that they wrought miracles. The time of canonization is sagaciously deferred till two centuries after the decease of the parties; but there is no difficulty in seeing that all the avowed deviations from the laws of nature attributed to the canonized, are impious pretences. Dr. Harsnett, afterwards archbishop of York, said, long since, “None but the pope and his scholars can cogge a miracle kindlie, and he and his priests can despatch a miracle as easily as a squirrel can cracke a nutte. A miracle in the bread, a miracle in the wine, a miracle in the holy water, a miracle in holy oyle, a miracle in lamps, candles, beades, bones, stones; nothing done in religion without a miracle and a vice.” And even Petrarch thus wrote:-- “Fountain of grief, abode of anger, School of errors, and temple of heresy; Formerly Rome, now Babylon false and guilty; Through whom there are so many tears and sighs; O mistress of deceit; O prison of anger, Where the good perish, and the bad are cherished and engendered, Hell of the living! It will be a great miracle If Christ is not angry with thee at last.”