"Fine thing that church of yours," said Mr.
Cobham. "Well, look here, we have pulled
through this, with a squeak, indeed. Take my
advice, don't lose an hour in settling."

"Settle," said Ross, starting; "what d'ye
mean?"

"Settle, settle, settle, just as Sir Robert
said, Register, register, register. It was next
door to a miracle. You had a bull-headed jury,
and the most ignorant judge on the bench.
Why, sir, the verdict won't stand a minute!
We'll be upset on the exceptions."

"But surely you said they were——"

"In court, of course we must do the
best we can. Ryder was perfectly right; he
had no business to admit those letters. Once
the verdict is set aside, and we have only our
convict to go upon! A nice fellow that, by
the way! However, that's my advice, you
know, and you can do as you like."

"Oh, of course," said Ross, coldly. "You
mean it well, and all that sort of thing. Oh, of
course, we shall consider it."

"Just as you like," said the other; and
walked away to tell the "brother" who shared
his lodgings, what a cold-blooded, ill-conditioned
client he had pulled through as "up-hill a case"
as ever he saw, and yet the savage had never
asked him to dinner, or so much as thanked
him.

BOSIO'S  STUPENDOUS  FLOWER.

IN Lockhart's story of Valerius (now too
little read), a Christian maiden is described as
gathering, in the gardens of a stately Roman
villa, a certain flower which symbolised in a
wonderful manner some of the deepest mysteries
of her religion. No doubt the passion-flower is
intended; but, although it would be difficult to
find an error in the classical details of Valerius,
the introduction of this mysterious flower is
altogether an anachronism. The passion-flower
was not known in Europe until the beginning of
the seventeenth century, when its first appearance
created an extreme sensation.

In the year 1610, Jacomo Bosio (historian of
the Knights of Malta, and uncle of the better
known Antonio Bosio, author of Roma
Soterranea) published at Rome his vast folio
entitled La Trionfante e gloriosa Croce, a work
"very pleasant and profitable to all good
Christians." It contemplates and describes the cross
of Our Lord from all possible points of view—
historical, antiquarian, mystical; and has much
to say of various representations of it impressed
on the different divisions of the natural world.
While Bosio was at work on it, there arrived in
Rome an Augustinian friar, named Emmanuel
de Villegas, a native of the city of Mexico. He
brought with him, and showed to Bosio, the
drawing of a flower so marvellously amazing—
si stupendo e maraviglioso—that Bosio was for
some time in doubt whether it would be prudent
to mention it at all in his book—"parendomi
cosa tanto mostruosa, per cosi dire, e tanto
straordinaria." But, in the mean time, many
personages—"di qualità e di gravità"—inhabitants
of New Spain, brought him other drawings
and descriptions. Some Mexican Jesuits, who
happened to be in Rome, confirmed all the
marvels of the flower; and certain Dominicans
at Bologna engraved and published a drawing
of it, accompanied by the poems and
"ingenious compositions" of many learned and
accomplished persons. Bosio, therefore, saw clearly
that it was his duty to give it to the world
as the most marvellous example of the croce
trionfante hitherto discovered in forest or in
field.

The flower represents, he tells us, not so
directly the cross of Our Lord, as the great
mysteries of His Passion. It is a native of the
Indies of Peru and of New Spain, where the
Spaniards call it "the flower of the five wounds"
(flor de las cinco llagas), and it had clearly been
designed by the most merciful and powerful
Creator of the world, in order that it might help,
in due time, toward the conviction and conversion
of the heathen people among whom it
grows. "In due time," writes Bosio: for its
mysteries were carefully shrouded from all
ordinary observers, since the flower kept always
the form of a bell (campanella), only opening
so far as this while the sun was above the
horizon, and shrinking back at night within
its five protecting leaves, in which state it looks
like an unopened rose. Bosio, however, gives
a drawing ot it fully expanded, for the satisfaction
of all pious readers, "who may thus have the
consolation of contemplating in it the profound
marvels of its, and of our own, Creator. And
it may well be that, in His infinite wisdom, it
pleased Him to create it thus shut up and
protected, as though to indicate that the wonderful
mysteries of the cross, and of His Passion, were
to remain hidden from the heathen people of
those countries until the time preordained by
His Highest Majesty."

The perpetual bell-like shape of the flower
is an error. It only takes this form when
expanding or fading. But it is by no means
the greatest of Bosio's pleasing delusions.
The figure he gives us of the passion-flower
shows the crown of thorns twisted and plaited,
the three nails, and the column of the
flagellation, just as they appear on so many
ecclesiastical shields and banners. Either the
Jesuits and Augustinians of Mexico must have
been very indifferent draughtsmen, or they did
not hesitate to assist the marvels of the flower
by a little traveller's licence. Bosio proceeds to
describe it. "The upper petals," he says, "are
tawny (di color leonato) in Peru; in New Spain,
they are white, tinged witli rose." (This, no
doubt, refers to distinct species.) "The
filaments above resemble a blood-coloured fringe,
as though suggesting the scourge with which
Our Blessed Lord was tormented. The column
rises in the middle. The nails are above it.
The crown of thorns encircles the column; and
'close in the centre of the flower, from which
the column rises, is a portion of a yellow colour,