the functions which devolve on you, or in your institution itself, his own Utopias, or the commencement of anything incompatible with the Pontifical Sovereignty.” In concluding, he spoke in a still more determined tone, and reproached his people with the ingratitude which they had already begun to manifest. “There are some persons who, having nothing to lose, wish for disorder and insurrection, and go so far as to make a bad use even of our concessions.” There was in this Council a commencement of representative government. Deputies from the Provinces assembled—deliberated. They heard a Speech from the Throne. They presented an address in reply. In due time this germ of constitutional monarchy would be developed. But the Sovereign would not proceed rashly. The full measure of reform, he was well aware, must, like all great works, be the fruit of time, of much labor and patient consideration. Count Rossi, the French Ambassador, considered that it was already time to introduce a lay element into the political administration of the Papal States. The Holy Father, accordingly, after due consideration, appointed some distinguished laymen to the Ministry. In so doing, no doubt, he sacrificed time-honored usage; but not so much to the wishes of his friends and allies, as to the spirit of the age, which, whether right or wrong, will have men of the world to deal with the world. Italy, although divided into several States, looked to Rome as its centre and its capital. Whatever occurred in the city of the Popes was at once known throughout the whole peninsula. Such important and unlooked-for measures of reform as were now carried into effect could not fail, as they were communicated, to affect deeply the Italian mind. Public opinion was aroused. The most profound sympathy was everywhere felt and expressed. Liberty had revived under the auspices of Religion. It had emanated as a new blessing from the Cross. The Chief of Religion, the Father of the Faithful, had become its High Priest. His name was held in benediction. His praises were proclaimed not only by the Italian people, but also by every civilized nation. It was no longer violence—no longer insurrection—that contended for liberty. The greatest of all sovereigns had announced its reign. It was not indebted to any secret society. It relied upon society at large. It rested secure, so men believed, on the firm foundation of enlightened public opinion. Philosophy, as represented by M. Cousin, hailed its advent. The statesmanship of France, headed by M. Thiers, extolled its champion. Protestantism, forgetting its illiberal prejudices, re-echoed with enthusiasm the warm _vivats_ of reformed Italy. Pius IX., meanwhile, enjoyed his reward,—not in the flattering echo of the thousand voices which sounded his praise, but in the one still voice of approving conscience. He was consoled, moreover, by a profound conviction that the cause which he had taken in hand would, one day, prove triumphant.