dered to Sigismund all his domains in Alsace and the Tyrol, that held them as the sovereign prince, and took an oath of fidelity to him. The emperor then addressed those who witnessed the scene. "Gentlemen of Italy, you know the name and the authority of the dukes of Austria; see how I look on them, and learn what a king of the Romans can do."

Frederic being thus humbled, John XXIII. must soon fall. The unhappy pope fled from city to city before the deputies commissioned to inform him of the form of resignation drawn up by the council. He at last returned to Friberg, where he received them, and again tried to temporize by negotiating.

The council perceived that he could only be subdued by force, and the ninth session was held on the day fixed for his appearance. On that day, the prelates nominated for this purpose, loudly called John XXIII. at the doors of the church; and as no one answered to this call, twenty-three commissioners, among whom were the cardinal des Ursins and of St. Mark, were appointed to hear the witnesses summoned to appear against the pope.

In the tenth session, John xxIII. was declared contumacious, and suspended from all the functions of a pope. The council enacted, that henceforth it was impossible to elect as pope, either Balthasar Cosa, called John xxIII., or Peter de Lune, known as Benedict XIII., or Angelo Corario, surnamed Gregory XII.,-and every imperial, royal, cardinal, or pontifical person who might disobey this decree, was threatened with the penalty of eternal damnation.

The commissioners then heard thirtyseven witnesses-twelve of whom were bishops, and the remainder were men of influence and rank. The list of accusations on which these witnesses were heard, contained seventy allegations; of which only fifty were discussed in the public council. The remainder were suppressed, to save the credit of the holy see, and of the cardinals; but the nature of those kept secret, may be judged from those which were produced. These were read and examined in the eleventh session, which was one of the most solemn. The list of the secret crimes of pope John XXIII. may be found in the different manuscripts, from which are taken the extracts of Von der Hardt (t. iv. p. 196, 228 and 248). We will not state them to the readers; suffice it to say, that

among the crimes which the witnesses deposed, and over which the council thought it right to cast a veil, was that of administering poison to pope Alexander v.

The emperor, princes, cardinals, and ambassadors were present; the cardinal de Viviers was president. Mass having been celebrated, the bishop of Posuania read aloud the articles proved before the commissioners, except those which it had been resolved to suppress. John XXIII. was hereby publicly convicted of simony, and other criminal practices in acquiring and exercising his office, of frightful tyranny, accompanied by robberies and murders in his Bolognese mission; of usurping the pontificate by his intrigues, and of squandering the wealth of the church of Rome, and of other Christian churches. It was proved, that in 1412 he sent into Brabant a lay agent, with authority to levy the tenth part of the ecclesiastical revenues in several of the dioceses, and to pronounce excommunications or interdicts, by his sub-delegates, against such persons or provinces as refused to obey. That he permitted this agent to choose, as he pleased, for persons of both sexes, confessors who would give them a general absolution for a certain payment; and that in this way he had acquired enormous sums. Also, in the same articles, it was alleged, that John XXIII. was regarded by the whole world as the oppressor of the poor, the persecutor of the righteous, the supporter of simony, devoted to the lusts of the flesh, opposed to every virtue, an example of all that is shameful, and only spoken of as a devil incarnate by those who were acquainted with him. From thence it was concluded that John xxIII. was a stiff-necked obstinate man, a hardened incorrigible sinner, the supporter of the schism; and as such, he was absolutely unworthy of the popedom.

The bishop of Posuania read all these articles in succession, with the depositions, and proofs that supported them. They received, in their order, the assent of the council. The cardinals themselves affixed their signatures, and five of them were selected to notify the result of the proceedings to the pope, as well as the sentence of suspension pronounced against him in the preceding session.

Frederic of Austria, who from being his protector was now become his keeper, had brought him from Friberg to the strong fortress of Ratolfoel, two leagues from Constance. There, three bishops,

commissioned by the council, watched him. John XXIII. being left to himself, no longer resisted, or showed signs of any feeling but of extreme cowardice.

Overcome by terror and alarm at the sight of the deputies from the council, he affected contrition and remorse, and refused to read the act of accusation. He repented from his inmost soul, he said, of having disgracefully left Constance. He wished he had died before he had occasioned this scandal; he cared not to resist the resolutions of the council, which he owned were just and infallible. His sentence might be sent he should receive it submissively, and bare-headed; he was ready to resign his dignity, and only implored that his honour and his person might have the pity of the council and the emperor.

By the demand of the commissioners, John XXIII. returned to them the seal of the pontificate, the fisherman's ring, and the book of petitions. He then wrote to Sigismund a letter, as mean as it was false. He reminded the emperor that he had assisted in his elevation. He said, "I made him my beloved son, by a special disinterested preference towards you, and for which the highest recompence could be a return of tenderness from you. All my desires are directed towards you, as being, under God, the only refuge of my hopes. We therefore address to you our most fervent prayers, calling for love for love. We intreat you, by the bowels of Divine mercy, to remember your word, in which we have placed all our hope. This is our comfort in our abasement.'

It was too late. This humble and submissive tone did not impose on the emperor. The mind of Sigismund was embittered by the repeated offences and disgraceful acts of which John XXIII. had been guilty. Then, to use the words of a contemporary, was seen the fulfilment of the declaration of a Roman historian, That there is little security in a powerless monarchy;" and the emperor dealt with the pope in a manner that was suitable to his dignity as Cæsar.

Sigismund pushed on the proceedings vigorously; and the twelfth session, which irrevocably fixed the fate of the pope, was opened in his presence.

All the princes, the cardinals, and the ambassadors were present at this memorable assembly, which was held on May the 29th, 1415. During mass, the reading of the gospel began with these remarkable words: "Now is the judgment

of this world: now shall the prince of this world be cast out," John xii. 31. The bishop of Lavaur afterwards rose, and read aloud the replies of John XXIII. to the deputies of the council; then Martin Porée, the bishop of Arras, read the act of the deposition of the pope. The principal charges were first enumerated, and the sentence was contained in this form of words: "The council declares that John xx. is deposed, and deprived of the pontificate; it releases all Christians from their oaths of fidelity towards him. He is condemned to remain in some suitable place, under the guard of the most serene Sigismund, king of the Romans, and advocate of the church, reserved for the farther punishment of his crimes, according to the canons and the requisitions of justice.”

The president repeated this sentence in the name of the college of cardinals, four bishops pronounced it after him, in the name of the four nations, and all the council signified their approval by the word, "Placet." The arms of John xxIII. were effaced; his seal was broken; and finally five cardinals were appointed to inform him of his deposition, and to exhort him to submit, under pain of severer punishment.

Two days after, they repaired to Ratolfoel, to meet him who had been John XXIII., and was now only Balthazar Cosa. They gave him his sentence in writing, and inquired if he acquiesced in it. Balthazar received it, read it in silence, and required time to reply. After two hours, he sent for the cardinals to return; and told them that, after having attentively read and examined the sentence of the council, he approved and ratified it—adding, that he acquiesced in their deposition. He then laid his hand on his bosom, and swore, freely, and of his own accord, that he would never offer the least hindrance to the decisions of the council, and that he absolutely, and entirely, of his own will, renounced the pontificate: "Would to God," he said, "that I had never ascended to that place. Since then, I have not known a single happy day."

The council, suspecting him of intrigues, recalled him to Constance; and three days after his deposition, the fallen pontiff was transferred to the same castle of Gottleben, in which the unfortunate John Huss, arrested by his order, had languished for six months in the prospect of his judgment, and of certain death. There, separated from his friends, de

have erred, when they adored John xxIII. -bending the knee before him, to kiss his feet, and call him most holy, when they knew him to be guilty of homicide, impurity, simony, and heresy, as their decree declares. May God forgive them! for, knowing this, they named him pope. And now there is no pope in Christendom; Jesus Christ alone is the Chief that guides it, the heart which gives it life, the fountain from whence proceed the sevenfold gifts of the Holy Spirit-the ever-sufficient Refuge to which I have recourse in my distress, and in firm trust that I shall there always find direction, assistance, sufficiency of life, and endless joy, which God will crown me with when he delivers me from my sins, and from this miserable life! Happy then are they who, in keeping his law, perceive and abhor the vain pomp, covetousness, and hypocrisy of the enemies of the Saviour, and await with patience the coming of our sovereign Judge with his holy angels!

THE INSTINCTIVE CUNNING OF CERTAIN

ANIMALS.

THE instincts of animals-from the bee which moulds its philosophic congeries of cells, exciting the admiration of the mathematician; from the bird, which builds its elegant and tasteful nest, to the beaver, which throws a dam across the river, and constructs its domed house-have ever claimed the attention of mankind. Nor, indeed, is it without good reason that man, be he savage or civilized, has delighted in the contemplation of works, which forcibly impress upon our minds the great fact, that God, the Maker of all things, has not left even these lower beings of creation without instinctive laws, operating in them by an irresistible impulse, to their own benefit and preservation. We would speak with reverence; but may we not say that God appeals to us through the animal and vegetable kingdoms; and, as it were, enforces upon us proofs of his universal care, his protection, his majesty, and power? He has made nothing in vain-we cannot always see the "why and the wherefore" this and that animal has been created? but if it bring to our minds one thought of God—if in considering its nature we are led to its great Creator will the Christian say it has been created in vain? Who that has viewed the won

ders disclosed by the powers of the modern microscope, has not shrunk within himself, overwhelmed by a sense of the unutterable vastness of God's power and wisdom?

But it is not alone on works of instinctive skill, as we should call them, that our admiration is demanded; for not less to be wondered at is that cunning, or that instinctive caution and surmise of treachery, which many animals exhibit, especially when brought into collision with man-the great destroyer.

There is a species of beetle, of the genus elater, common in our gardens (its larva is the destructive wire-worm), which on being seized invariably feigns death. It knows nothing of death (for man only anticipates such an event), nevertheless it stretches itself out, it draws its limbs close to its body, and it lies perfectly resistless; but its instinctive sense of danger and its knowledge of the means of escape are in full activity. Suddenly it is gone; a curious spring in its back enables it to dart from the hand, it falls without injury, and is lost amidst the herbage.

"As

If what is related concerning a small deer of Sumatra, called the kanchil, be true, we do not wonder at the common phrase in the mouth of the natives, applied to an artful designing rogue : cunning as a kanchil." When caught in a noose, and unable to extricate itself, this animal on hearing the footsteps of the approaching hunter lies down, stretches itself out quite motionless, and feigns to be dead; should the man proceed to disengage it incautiously from the snare, deceived by its appearance, it suddenly starts up, and making a few of those extraordinary bounds for which it is celebrated, disappears in the jungle. Still more extraordinary is the expedient to which it is said to resort, not unfrequently, when pressed by the dogs of the hunter; namely, that it will bound upwards, and contrive to hook itself on the branch of a tree, by means of its long tusks, and there remain suspended, till the dogs have passed far away.

The fox is proverbial for cunning and wariness; few animals are trapped with more difficulty, and it is seldom that the most tempting bait will lure it into a snare. It will go round and round the bait, examining it with the most cautious scrutiny, and the slightest appearance of anything suspicious is sufficient to deter it from seizing the prize. In its mode

of surprising and capturing its prey, the fox displays great address, and resorts to various wiles and stratagems, in order to come upon it: nor when captured him self, or hard pressed by the hounds, does bis cunning desert him. He has been known, when taken prisoner, to counterfeit death, and suffer himself to be carried for a considerable distance, till an opportunity of making a sudden escape has presented itself. When pressed by the hounds, he will put into practice every plan possible for confounding the scent, and thus baffling his pursuers. He will cross sheep-folds, brooks, and farm-yards, ascend the roofs of barns, stables, and out-buildings, or boldly go where he expects to find a secure hiding-place. Mr. Egan, in his sporting anecdotes, relates an almost incredible instance of the boldness and cunning of this animal. fox in question was hard pressed, and in his emergency darted into the midst of a flock of sheep, one of which he killed instantaneously, and ripping it open, crept into the inside of the carcass, and there lay concealed. The dogs came up, and were all at fault; for a quarter of an hour they explored the ground in every direction, till at length an old hound recovered the scent, and presently drew reynard forth from his extraordinary hiding-place.

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The

The extreme cunning of the Virginian opossum (Didelphis Virginiana), and its habit of counterfeiting death, are not only notorious, but the more remarkable as this animal is by no means elevated in the scale of animal intelligence, rather, indeed, the contrary; an observation applicable to the marsupials generally. Nevertheless, to play 'possum has passed into a phrase common in America, as expressive of any kind of low knavish trickery. Audubon, in his usually lively style, thus details its mode of proceeding: Suppose the farmer has surprised an opossum in the act of killing one of his best fowls. His angry feelings urge him to kill the poor beast, which, conscious of its inability to resist, rolls off like a ball. The more the farmer rages, the more reluctant is the animal to manifest resistance; at last there it lies, not dead but exhausted, its jaws open, its tongue extended, its eyes dimmed; and there it would lie until the bottle-fly should come to deposit its eggs, did not its tormenter at last walk off. Surely, says he to himself, the beast must be dead. But no, reader, it is only "'possuming,' and no sooner has its enemy withdrawn, than it

gradually gets on its legs, and once more makes for the woods."

There is a British bird well known in several of our counties, termed the corncrake (Crex Pratensis), which under certain circumstances has been observed to feign death. The following anecdote is taken from the "Field Naturalist's Magazine," vol. 1.: "When the interesting bird, named from its cry the corn-crake, is alarmed, it has the instinct in common with some other animals, and especially insects, to feign death. A gentleman had one brought to him by his dog, that was dead to all appearance. As it lay on the ground, he turned it over with his foot, and was convinced it was dead. Standing by,however, some time in silence, he suddenly saw it open one eye. He then took it up; its head fell, its legs hung down; it appeared again totally dead. He put it into his pocket; and before very long he felt it all alive, and struggling to escape. He took it out; it was lifeless as before. He then laid it on the ground, and retired to some distance; in about five minutes it warily raised its head, looked round, and decamped at full speed." The chaffinch and sparrow have been occasionally known to practise the same artifice.

Among animals notorious for craft, wariness, and cunning, few are more celebrated than the prairie wolf of the plains of the Missouri`and Saskatchewan, North America.

Mr. Say thus describes the habits of this animal, which are well worthy of notice: "The prairie wolves (Canis latrans) roam over the plains in considerable numbers, and during the night, the principal season of their haunts, they venture very near to the encampment of the traveller. They are by far the most numerous of our wolves, and often unite in packs for the purpose of chasing deer, which they very frequently succeed in running down and killing. This, however, is an achievement attended with much difficulty to them, and in which the exertion of their utmost swiftness and cunning are so often unavailing, that they are sometimes reduced to the necessity of eating wild plums and other fruits, to them almost indigestible, in order to distend the stomach, and appease in a degree the cravings of hunger. Their bark is much more distinctly like that of the domestic dog than of any other animal; in fact, the first two or three notes could not be distinguished from the bark of a