At another time, a blind priest had been adoring the bit of bread he had just consecrated, but when he went to eat it, it was gone. In alarm, he sent for Chiniquy, who was hearing confessions not far away, and as it could nowhere be found, he knew that a rat had taken it, for the rats were both numerous and bold in that place. The old priest was inconsolable, though he blessed another piece and then concluded his devotions. But his lamentations were so deep and long that Chiniquy at last lost patience, and said a word or two which greatly shocked the superstitious priest, who severely rebuked him, and ordered him for a penance to kneel every day before the fourteen images representing "the way of the cross," and say a penitential psalm before each for nine days, and on no account to tell the story of the rat to any one. He complied with these requests, and received a very gracious absolution. But on the sixth day he pierced the skin of his knees while kneeling, and the blood flowed freely, causing him great pain whenever he knelt or walked, and all because he for a moment had doubted the right of Rome to call that a god which a priest could professedly create and a rat destroy! Alas! for those who follow such pernicious teachings! Let us pity and pray for them, and more than ever cleave to that Gospel which tells us that "there is only one name given under heaven by which we must be saved"--"one Mediator between God and men, the Man Christ Jesus," who lives in glory, no more to suffer or die, but who is "Jesus of Nazareth" (Acts xxii. 8), still tender and loving as when He dwelt below, while He is eternally mighty to "save to the uttermost all that come unto God by Him." Oh, that all our hope and confidence may rest on Him--entirely on Him alone! THE DIRGE OF AN ENGLISHWOMAN. And ought the Queen of England's land A gift to send by Norfolk's hand To the old Pope of Rome, His Jubilee to celebrate, With Popish pomp, in grandest state, In his Italian home? Chalice and basin, richly made Of shining gold; to him conveyed By one of his trained band. He used them both at his High Mass, And proud of such a gift he was From our dear native land. Our own Victoria should be free, True to "the rights" she swore when she Sat in the abbey old; And crown was placed upon her head, And coronation oath she said Over God's Word, we're told. Up, English men and women all! To the red beast[2] ne'er bow at all, But leave him to his fate; For Babylon will surely fall,[3] And with her, nations great and small, Who follow in her wake. In days of yore she sat a queen,[4] On seven hills,[5] so vile, unclean, And shed the blood of saints. "Come out of her, My people"[6] all, Nor of her plagues receive at all, Or listen to her plaints.