Tirol seems to have been a man upon whose nerves such appeals had but little effect. He was a blunt soldier, who received the orders of his superiors and performed them to the letter. He had been ordered to arrest the archbishop wherever he found him, and he left the ecclesiastical scandal to be settled by those who sent him. Beckoning to a recreant priest who had been tampered with and brought along for the purpose, he commanded him in the king's name, to wrest the sacrament from the prelate's hand. The clergyman, immediately mounting the steps of the altar, obeyed the orders, and the desecrated bishop at once threw off his pontifical robes and yielded to civil power. The cowardly Mexicans made no attempt to protect their intrepid friend, who, as he left the sanctuary, paused for a moment and stretched his hands in benediction over the recreants. Then bidding an affectionate farewell to his clergy, whom he called to witness how zealously he had striven to preserve the church from outrage, as well as the poor from plunder, he departed as a prisoner for Vera Cruz, whence he was despatched for Spain in a vessel expressly equipped for his conveyance. * * * * * For a while the people were panic struck at this high-handed movement against the archbishop, but when the momentary effect had passed away and they began to reflect on the disgrace of the church as well as the loss of their protector, they vented their displeasure openly against Mexia and the viceroy. The temper of the masses was at once noticed by the clergy, who were still faithful to their persecuted bishop, nor did they hesitate to fan the flame of discontent among the suffering Indians, Mestizos and Creoles, who omitted no occasion to express their hatred of the Spaniards, and especially of Tirol, who had been the viceroy's tool in De la Serna's arrest. A fortnight elapsed after the occurrences we have just detailed, and that daring officer had already delivered his prisoner at Vera Cruz, and returned to Mexico. Popular clamor at once became loud against him; whenever he appeared in public he was assailed with curses and stones; until, at last, an enraged mob attacked him in his carriage with such violence that it was alone owing to the swiftness of the mules, lashed by the affrighted postillion, that he escaped into the viceroyal palace, whose gates were immediately barred against his pursuers. Meantime the news had spread over town that this "Judas,"--"this excommunicated dog,"--had taken refuge with Gelves, and the neighboring market place became suddenly filled with an infuriated mob, numbering near seven thousand Indians, negroes and mulattoes, who rushed towards the palace with the evident intention of attacking it. Seeing this outbreak from a window, the viceroy sent a message to the assailants desiring them to retire, and declaring that Tirol had escaped by a postern. But the blood of the people was up, and not to be calmed by excuses. At this