J. B. ALL who now colour for show will hereafter be shown in their true colours. WHAT A PRIEST THOUGHT OF ROMAN CATHOLIC MIRACLES. "_After the working of Satan with all power, and signs, and lying wonders._"--2 THESSALONIANS ii. 9. In the autumn of 1836, the Marine hospital of Quebec, in Canada, was filled with patients suffering from ship typhoid fever, and so deadly was the disease that, by the following spring, a number of the officials and servants of the institution had also been smitten, and died. Chiniquy had hitherto been spared, although in constant attendance on the patients, but in May, 1837, he was attacked with the fearful disease. His life was despaired of, and the last Sacraments were administered to him. He could not speak. His tongue became like a piece of wood, and all that could be given him was a little cold water, dropped with much difficulty through his teeth. On the thirteenth night of his illness, he heard the doctors whisper, "He is dead, or nearly so," and they left the room. A deep horror seized him. An icy wave seemed to creep over his whole frame, and a terrible vision rose before his mind. A pair of scales stood before him. His sins were in one scale; his good works and penances in the other; and all his righteousness seemed but a grain of sand compared with a mountain load of guilt, and to God he dared not cry for mercy. But he thought of two saints--St. Anne, who was believed to have cured hundreds of cripples, and St. Philomene, who was just then the favourite saint of Rome. To these he cried, with all the earnestness of his failing soul, and soon a bright vision came before him of an aged, grave lady, and a young and beautiful one, the latter distinctly saying to him, "You will be cured." The vision then disappeared, but the fever had gone also. The crisis was over. He was hungry, and asked for food, which was at once given him, and he ravenously ate the dainties prepared, while the friendly priests gathered round him joyfully, and sang a hymn of praise. Of course they believed that the saints had cured him, and the Roman Catholic doctors shared their idea; but a Protestant physician denied it altogether, and in a kind manner he tried to prove that no miracle had been wrought, but that returning health came from natural causes, by the will and blessing of God. Chiniquy was unwilling, however, to change his mind on the subject, and, true to the vow he made in the hour of fear, he got a splendid picture painted, at a cost of £50, representing his vision as he lay seemingly on the bed of death.