A what the real motive was; that it did not arise from a sincere wish to serve him, but to give B an early opportunity of serving himself.-This kind of motive, which is always in the background, is enclosed by so many different phases, and has at its command such an extensively varied wardrobe from which it can make a selection of such a guise as shall best suit the emergency, that, at pleasure, it can produce a series of circumstantial, moral, and intellectual illusions, in order to the compassing of preconcerted plans. It seizes every opportunity which is in the slightest degree suited as an instrument to the furtherance of its designs :-nay, whether they be favourable or not at the time, it so contrives to conform itself to them, as ultimately to transform, or change them, and so make use of them for the accomplishment of its own real designs. The correspondence between cause and effect in physics is always. the same, and sufficiently clear and convincing: but with respect to morals, so far, at least, as is apparent; there is not always that correspondence between cause and effect. I do not mean, by this remark, that there is no uniformity of correspondence in morals between cause and effect, but that such is not apparent.-It is this fact which makes so many persons complete anomalies, concerning whom it is very often said "They cannot be reckoned up."-But, sometimes, through the unsuspected transparency of the guises, or phases, or both, the hideous form inside is seen. Of course, disclosure is attended with much chagrin ;-but, almost

this

as quick as thought, the form disappears from mental view, and, with its multiplied and renewed assumptions, the illusion is continued. That man, concerning whom we say, that we don't know what he means when he speaks, is a very dangerous member of society; and does not deserve a place in the political or patriotic records of his country. Whatever might have been the conscientious scruples of Henry VIII. at certain times, respecting his having married the widow of his brother; it became very clear, after a time when, he had gazed upon the beauty of Anne Bullen, and was so enamoured of her charms, that his real wish for a devorce from Catherine was,-that he might be put in possession of the object he so longed for.

Our Lord had occasion to say to the multitudes who followed him, that it was not because of the miracles which he had performed that attracted them, but because they "had eaten and were filled." When David sent Uriah down to Joab, it was not that he might give proof of his valour and loyalty, but that he might be put in such a position as should prove certain death to him :—in which case David would have an opportunity of making Bathsheba his wife.-See, 2 Sam. xi. and Ps. li. The Duke of Lancaster, afterwards Henry IV., did not say to Richard II. that he would help him to govern his people better for the future, from any kindly and benevolent feeling. He knew that he had now Richard fully in his power, and could dispose of him as he might think proper; and therefore, as he was bent upon wearing the Crown, he was regardless about the means to

be employed to get rid of Richard. In fact the whole range of the political and domestic history of nations, and the annals of the Church itself abounds with numerous and fatal instances of the operation of ulterior motives. There is not a family where it is not in some form or other to be found. It has entered the sacred precincts of married life, it has joined decrepitude and youth together, for the sake of a comfortable home, or money, or the accomplishment of other remote and equally dishonourable purposes. It is plainness of speech (which by the way is impudent effrontery) and the basest of slander.-It lurks about like a beast of prey, waiting to gorge itself with all that is held dear and sacred.-It is the very grave of its possessor, in which are buried all the better feelings of his nature.And, lastly, it contains all the elements of his future misery. These secret recesses, however, will, by and by, be exhibited by the Deity. It is He who will then connect cause and effect; and there is no chance of deceiving Him;-nothing can be hid from Him: then, in the language of our Church let us say from the heart, "Cleanse the thought of our heart by the inspiration of thy Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love thee and worthily magnify thy Holy Name."

The Naked and Unarmed Contest with a

Lion.

A Scene in the Colosseum at Rome.

The immense concourse of spectators had already assembled, and, in breathless silence were awaiting the signal for the condemned criminal to make his appearance on the arena. Many of both sexes in the densely crowded amphitheatre had been accustomed to gladiatorial exhibitions of physical force and daring, and so were quite nerved for what they had come to witness; while others, it is presumed, quaking with fear, wished they had never entered the Colosseum. It is utterly impossible to picture or describe the diversified expressions, and the mingled feelings of the thousands who were present on that occasion. At length the doomed victim makes his appearance, all the muscles of his frame are violently agitated, and he presents all the marks of one already in convulsive agony with death; a ghastly paleness has come over him, and his eyeballs dart, as it were, from their sockets. He gazes upon the dense cloud of human beings who have assembled to witness the deadly encounter. After a few short invocations to the gods, he nerves himself for the struggle; the bolt is withdrawn, and the infuriated lion, with erect mane, and eyes darting forth fire, and a roar, like that of thunder, bounds forth from his den, and pounces upon his victim. For a short time the man, rendered supernatural by despair,

and the frenzied excitement produced by the beholders, maintains his ground; but the reaction which succeeds renders him an easy prey to his ferocious antagonist: the incision is made, the vein is opened, and the blood flows; his flesh is torn, his bones are broken, and the fragments of his mortality lie scattered up and down on the arena.

Here, too, the Dacian slave, Androcles, who, for running away from his inhuman master, was condemned to be torn in pieces by an enormous lion, but was providentially preserved unhurt. When the animal emerged from the den, and the people in expectation of seeing Androcles torn in pieces, to their great surprise they saw the lion fawning upon him, as though he had met with an old and dear friend. And so it turned out, for the lion recognised in the re-captured and condemned slave, the man who had taken a thorn out of its paw. The culprit was restored to liberty midst the loud and repeated applause of the spectators, and was presented with the lion, which he afterwards exhibited in the streets of Rome.

Here too, many of the early Christians were put to death in the most ignominious and public manner. The time usually fixed upon, being on their great festival days, when the circus was pretty well filled with strangers as well as citizens. But their death, like the dying of the seed, bore an ample harvest for the garner of heaven. Their dying testimony had been listened to, their patience and fortitude witnessed, and these had made an indelible impression on the minds of many of the bystanders; and