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Perrone, quoting the scriptures; and if there be an impious man in the world it surely is the heretic, the apostate, the renegade. These men, he goes on to say, live in a state of constant perturbation of conscience, and of bitter remorse; they carry hell about with them in their hearts; they are continually the prey of the furies; they pass moments of such melancholy and despair as no language can depict, and though they seek to soften the anguish they endure by plunging into dissipation, it is all in vain. The pupil hereupon exclaims, and it is a comfort to hear him, 'That cannot be, for on the contrary I have seen them leading the most cheerful lives possible;' on which Dr. Perrone informs him that all this is but mere appearance, that if he trust to what such people say, they will make him believe none are so happy as they, but the truth is that they lie both in their words and deeds. They pretend to be happy, they fly from solitude, they try to get out of themselves, they rush from one species of dissipation to another, in order to suffocate the remorse which torments them, but it is all in vain, -whatever they do, the worm is always there, always ready to prey upon them. Still the incredulous pupil is not convinced, and has even the presumption to tell his teacher he fears that he founds all this on mere conjecture, and that the fact is not really such as he has represented. But Dr. Perrone, nothing daunted by the unbelief exhibited on the part of his catechumen, solemnly assures him his assertions are founded on facts, and on the public confessions which certain of these renegades have made to the world, after having repented of their sins, and returned to the bosom of holy mother Church. He acknowledges indeed that very few ever do return, but then he says that this is because the heroism necessary for such a step is the portion of but few, while weakness is a very common quality. In addition to this he reminds his pupil that so many and so great are the obstacles in the way of those who long to return to the Church, that many feel themselves powerless to overcome them, and therefore go on groaning under the heavy chains by

VOL. LIV. NO. CCCXXII.

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which they are bound hand and foot. The principal obstacle to apostate priests and monks, continues Dr. Perrone, arises from their mistresses,-I say mistresses, because they never can have real wives, and their children. Since, as has already been said, the motives of their apostasy may be reduced to the desire to indulge their unbridled passions, their sole thought after having become protestants, is that of uniting themselves to some woman or other, and even should they happen not to wish to take such a step, the protestants force them to it, and that as quickly as possible, in order to make sure of their prey. Truly, Dr. Perrone, this is a piece of information of which we were not possessed before, and we feel inclined, on hearing it, to echo the words your pupil has just used, and to say that we fear you base your assertions rather on conjecture than facts. Having explained the nature of the first obstacle to an apostate's return, the Doctor goes on to the second, which it appears arises from self-interest; for, being befriended and pensioned as they are by the Protestants, they would lose all this by recanting their errors; then there is the difficulty of making a public recantation; and to

all this must be added the fear of a

sharp persecution directed against them by the Protestants. These obstacles, concludes Dr. Perrone, are such that, morally speaking, they render the return of many, so to say, impossible; after having once taken the false step, although they may weep and lament over it all their lives long, they have no power to break loose from the nets which the devil has cast over them.

As a fitting pendant to this melancholy picture of the miserable life led by converts to Protestantism, Dr. Perrone in the next Lesson gives his pupil a still more fearful description of their death. In fact, he says that it is the most terrible thing that can be imagined—a death which may justly be called hell by anticipation, and to which Talleyrand's famous mot, Quoi deja?" would certainly, if Dr. Perrone's description is a true one, be exactly applicable.

if (says Dr. Perrone) there is an

D D

exception to this, it is still more horrible, for in that case the death, which to all outward appearance is tranquil and happy, is in reality the most deplorable that the imagination can conceive, for it shows that the subjects of it have lost all faith, that they are nothing but practical atheists, no better than the beasts that perish.

We need scarcely say that Dr. Perrone speaks most confidently of the certain damnation of Protestants-that is to say, he explains, of all who are aware that they are out of the pale of the Church, who calumniate her, and endeavour to rob her of her children; all these will most certainly be damned. It is nothing but invincible ignorance which can save any; and it is a comfort to hear Dr. Perrone say that he believes many Protestants of this description are to be found among the lower classes. But he warns his pupil that this does not apply to apostate Catholics, who are mediably damned throughout all eternity.

irre

chism might produce than we entertain at present. In addition to this we are certain Dr. Perrone has overstepped the mark, and we therefore cannot but hope that his manual, instead of having the effect which he intended, will be the means of leading some at least among the more thoughtful of our Italian Roman Catholic brethren to search for themselves, and 'see whether these things indeed are so.' Let them but find Dr. Perrone, as they will be sure to do at the very outset, garbling facts, and throwing a false colouring over statements, showing us as he wishes us to be seen, rather than as we really are, and a reaction will be likely to ensue, which will end in making converts to Protestantism of some at any rate who, but for this ill-advised

book, might have remained Catholics all their lives long. On the other hand, we fear there cannot be much doubt but that the fact of the book

having already reached a second edition, shows that it is extensively circulated the among very many who never take the trouble of thinking for themselves, and who would consider it a mortal sin not to place implicit faith in whatever their spiritual pastors and masters may choose to palm upon them.

In conclusion may we be allowed to hint that Protestants may learn a lesson from this book, which will not be unproductive of good if it lead them to compare the feelings of indignation and disgust with which its false and garbled statements cannot but have inspired them, with the sentiments experienced by Catholics when they find some among themselves misstating and exaggerating the doctrines and practices of their religion to an extent equal to anything we have met with even in Dr. Giovanni Perrone's precious production. A. R. B.

that our gallant allies are not overcareful about either the medical or military officering of their invalidships. I recollect once being a passenger in one of the Messageries Impériales steamers, which had between 400 and 450 sick and wounded soldiers on board, besides wounded officers, and as far as I could make out there was only one medical officer placed in charge of all these poor men-who certainly seemed most cheerful under their sufferings-and he was treated as a second-class passenger, and not allowed to dine at the same table with us. In our service this could not have happened; but we have improved, in many respects, the medical department of our army since the war broke out.

Passing the coast between Cape Matapan and Cape St. Angelo, we met an English steamer from Constantinople, which telegraphed

'Peace. This announcement was received with anything but cheerful countenances on the part of some who looked forward to the capture of the Crimea or to a campaign in Asia in the course of a few short weeks; and it seemed to me that when, on our arrival at Scutari, we were informed that most of the troops on board were to be detained there, the faces of some young military aspirants became longer than when suffering from the pangs and horrors of sea-sickness. A trip in a drenching afternoon between the lovely banks of the Bosphorus, dotted with mosques and minarets, palaces and gardens, strange-looking old forts and wicked-looking batteries, was not at all enlivened by being informed that we were remain a couple of days at Kosloo before proceeding to the Crimea. We innocently asked where was Kosloo?-what was Kosloo? and I dare say that some of my readers may do the same who are as ignorant of the shores of the Black Sea as some of us were; but on further inquiry, it turned out that Kosloo, in the district of Heraclea, was the valley in which the Sultan's coalmines abound. Having always heard them spoken of as the coalmines of Heraclea, I was ignorant of a small bay, on the shores of which stand some dozen or two

to

ricketty houses, but where most of our men-of-war and transports, as well as those of our allies, are wont to take in coal; and when I did learn the real state of the case, I felt quite pleased at our intended visit, as it gave me an opportunity of seeing an establishment which has been of considerable benefit to us in carrying on this war.

For some miles we ran along a picturesque coast, abounding in shallow bays and jutting headlands, into the former of which mountain-streams, swollen with the melting snow, emptied themselves. The hills were thickly wooded down to the water's edge with beech, oak, and low underwood; while further inland rose high and rugged peaks, partially covered with forest, midst the masses of which some patches of snow peeped forth, now fast disappearing under the influence of a powerful sun and cloudless sky. As we approached the valleys of Kosloo and Zungledek-which differed from scores of others along the coast only by having at their mouth a small cluster of red-roofed cottages-seams of coal appeared among the brushwood, and here and there heaps of black shale marked the entrance to some abandoned pit. On coming to an anchor off Kosloo, we hailed a coal-barge which had just finished discharging its cargo into a French transport, and, pulled by four lusty Croats, we soon found ourselves ashore, about eighty yards from a large and apparently substantial house belonging to the engineer who superintends the working of the mines, and the commissariat officer in charge of the chest, who makes the payments and keeps the accounts of the establishment. In addition to these officers, there are a dozen Englishmen, navvies and tradesmen, some of whom, though but a short time in the country, seemed to get on very fluently in Turkish with the native labourers. These men are dispersed between the Kosloo mines and those in the adjoining valley of Zungledek, and receive as ordinary labourers as high wages as £10 a month-foremen and overseers proportionably more. They seemed well contented with their lot; and having but few opportunities of

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spending their money in so wild and lonely a district, will probably return home with considerable sums in their pockets. One man I met with said that during the winter they found it difficult to procure meat, and the smaller luxuries of tea and sugar; and he informed me that they were once six weeks without animal food. He admitted, however, that when they got any, the prices were low; but that, after all, England was a more satisfactory country to spend money in than the wild shores of the Black Sea.

At Kosloo, the coal lies near the sea-shore, and is worked about a mile and a half up the valley, being conveyed to the beach by a tramway, in trucks drawn by native ponies. At Zungledek, it is principally worked four miles up the valley, and is carried on the backs of mules and ponies to the shore, where, as well as at Kosloo, it is shunted off a wooden platform into lighters below. At both places it is found close to the surface, and is raised by driving galleries into the hill-side. I do not believe that the district is worked at present with much system, it being an object to get as great a return for our outlay as possible, considering that our occupation is only a temporary one during the war time. The strata are uneven and much tossed about, and there is much difficulty in working out any particular bed. All the district around is part of the Sultan's personal property; and I heard that much difficulty was experienced in procuring the Imperial consent to the working of the mines for the use of the fleets and armies which have fought and conquered for the independence of the Padishah and his dominions.

At last permission was extorted only on the promise of the payment of the enormous royalty of ten shillings per ton! Will the sick man,' on the cessation of his present very lucra tive arrangement, have the energy to turn to account the wealth which nature has placed at his disposal, either by working these mines himself, or placing them in the hands of some of the great capitalists or companies of Western

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Europe? Or will he, hugging his treasure to his bosom, turn a deaf ear to all proposals for improvement, and jealous of his rights, and apathetic about the development of the natural resources of the land, allow them to remain untouched, an everlasting testimony of the ignorant barbarism of Turkey and her rulers?

I could not, even if I would, prevent such thoughts from crowding upon me, as, mounted on a small but powerful, sure-footed, and spirited horse, I wandered over the ridge which separates the two valleys, and pushed my way some miles up the glen of Zungledek, now galloping over soft turf, browsed on by a few mountain sheep, watered by the mountain torrent gliding swiftly but silently along through the deep rich deposit of thousands of winters, and now, whilst entering a deep and thickly-wooded ravine, I crept with cautious steps, at one moment in the bed of the stream, amidst rocks, and stones, and trunks and branches of trees washed down by the spring torrents. At another moment I had to scramble up the side of the ravine by a path washed away by the melting snow, or choked by some huge mass of rock, clay, or underwood, which the spring thaws had detached from some precipice many feet above, but over which my little animal carried me in the most perfect security, showing an amount of strength, activity, and sure-footedness which I could not have expected to find in so small a creature carrying twelvestone upon his back. Thirty-two times in the course of four miles did we cross this little stream, our horses plunging their noses into the cool water, and drinking as they waded through. Beech, oak, wild cherries, hollies, laurel, and box, clothed the sides of the ravine, the underwood of which consisted for the most part of masses of rhododendron just bursting into blossom, while the ground beneath was carpeted with primroses and wood-anemones, and from the clefts of the rocks bunches of violets sent forth their delicious fragrance. Vines hung in graceful festoons from some of the larger trees; and ferns, kissed