While Dr. Buchanan employed himself in writing, Friar Joseph devoured page after page; but as the narrative proceeded, betrayed evident symptoms of uneasiness.  He then turned to the middle, looked at the end, skimmed over the table of contents, fixed on its principal passages, and at one place exclaimed, in his broad Italian accent, “Mendacium! mendacium.’” The doctor requested him to mark the passages that were untrue, proposed to discuss them afterwards, and said he had other books on the subject.  The mention of other books startled him; he looked up anxiously at some books on the table, and then gave himself up to the perusal of Dellon’s “Relation,” until bedtime.  Even then, he asked permission to take it to his chamber.

The doctor had fallen asleep under the roof of the inquisitor’s convent, confident, under God, in the protection at that time guaranteed to a British subject, his servants sleeping in the gallery outside the chamber-door.  About midnight, he was waked by loud shrieks and expressions of terror from some one in the gallery.  In the first moment of surprise, he concluded it must be the alguazils of the holy office seizing his servants to carry them to the Inquisition.  But, on going out, he saw the servants standing at the door, and the person who had caused the alarm, a boy of about fourteen, at a little distance, surrounded by some of the priests, who had come out of their cells on hearing the noise.  The boy said he had seen a spectre; and it was a considerable time before the agitations of his body and voice subsided.  Next morning at breakfast, the inquisitor apologized for the disturbance, and said the boy’s alarm proceeded from a phantasma animi,—­phantom of the imagination.

It might have been so.  Phantoms might well haunt such a place.  As to Dellon’s book, the inquisitor acknowledged that the descriptions were just; but complained that he had misjudged the motives of the inquisitors, and written uncharitably of Holy Church.  Their conversation grew earnest, and the inquisitor was anxious to impress his visitor with the idea that the Inquisition had undergone a change in some respects, and that its terrors were mitigated.  At length Dr. Buchanan plainly requested to see the Inquisition, that he might judge for himself as to the humanity shown to the inmates,—­according to the inquisitor,—­and gave, as a reason why he should be satisfied, his interest in the affairs of India, on which he had written, and his purpose to write on them again, in which case he could scarcely be silent concerning the Inquisition.  The countenance of his host fell; but, after some further observations, he reluctantly promised to comply.  Next morning, after breakfast, Joseph a Doloribus went to dress for the holy office, and soon returned in his black robes.  He said he would go half an hour before the usual time, for the purpose of showing him the Inquisition.  The doctor fancied he looked more severe than usual, and that his attendants were not