Night was drawing on when the decree was posted on the walls of Rome. It was observed, however, amidst the growing darkness; and no sooner was the word _amnesty_ read than a cry of enthusiasm was heard. People hastened from their houses in all directions, the passers-by stopped in crowds to read, by torchlight, the cabalistic words. Among the fast-assembling masses there was but one feeling. They embraced and even wept for joy. In the depth of their emotion, and whilst yet, as may be said, intoxicated with delight, they sought how to express their gratitude. The cry was raised, “To the Quirinal!” Arrived there, they hailed, with loud and united voice, the beneficent Pontiff—“Vivat Pius Nonus!” “Long live our Holy Father!” Crowd after crowd thus approached the person of the Pope. It was now late, and Pius IX., much fatigued, overwhelmed by his emotions, had withdrawn to the silence of his Oratory. Meanwhile, fresh crowds of overjoyed citizens were pressing forward. Ten thousand men, at least, were now waiting, with respectful anxiety, under the walls of the Quirinal Palace. The French Ambassador to Rome, Count Rossi, was a witness of these events. He became also their historian. He wrote thus to M. Guizot: “Suddenly the acclamations are redoubled. I had not yet understood on what account, when some one called my attention to the light which was shining through the window-blinds at the farthest end of the Pontifical Palace. The people had observed that the Holy Father was traversing the apartment in order to reach the balcony. It was speedily thrown open, and the Sovereign Pontiff, in a white robe and scarlet mantle, made his appearance, surrounded by torches. If your Excellency (M. Guizot, at that time Minister of the French King, Louis Philippe) will only figure to yourself a magnificent place, a summer night, the sky of Rome, an immense people moved with gratitude, weeping for joy and receiving with love and reverence the benediction of their Pastor and their Prince, you will not be astonished, if I add that we have shared the general emotion, and have placed this spectacle above every thing that Rome had as yet offered to our contemplation. Just as I had foreseen, as soon as the window was closed the crowd withdrew peacefully and in perfect silence. You would have called them a people of mutes; they were satisfied.” It is not so difficult to grant an amnesty. It is delightful, even, to men of the character of Pius IX. to dispense forgiveness. This is particularly the office and the privilege of the Church. Sterner duties devolve upon the statesman. And, however reconcileable the two courses of conduct in public affairs may really be, it is difficult often to reconcile them.