the whole body of Spaniards that had lately arrived united to serve under his banner.

His presence was sorely needed at Mexico. Before his departure to meet Narvaez, his religious zeal had galled the proud Aztecs to the quick, for he had seized their principal temple for the celebration of Christian worship. All the prejudices of the people had been outraged by this proceeding, but they maintained a sullen attitude of submission. Now, however, news reached him that the Mexicans were in arms against him. They had burned the vessels he had built upon the lake, had besieged the Spanish quarters, and killed many of its defenders. In short, Cortez was implored to return if he would preserve the survivors.

This was a heavy blow to Cortez after his recent success. He hurried back to find the city almost deserted, and every sign of disaffection amongst the few that still lingered within its walls. The violence of Alvarado was the cause of this hostility. On the occasion of the festival of their war god, he had rushed in upon the unarmed worshippers and had committed a fearful massacre among them. This insane cruelty stung to the quick the pride of the Mexicans; they rose en masse with one long cry for vengeance on so perfidious an act. On they came by thousands, pressing forward heedless of the numbers that fell before the fire of their foes, and when the fury of the first assault was spent, they hemmed in the Spanish quarters on all sides, withdrew all supplies of provisions, and waited until they should be starved into submission.

Such was the posture of affairs when Cortez reached Mexico. Bitterly repenting his selection of Alvarado to govern in his absence, he had the littleness to vent his spleen upon the captive monarch who sent to him

to request an interview. In all haste he despatched a messenger to summon aid from Vera Cruz, but it was too late. The man soon returned, sorely wounded, and announcing that the whole people were in arms. On they came in a surging tide, wave rising above wave, their banners flying, and their ranks marshalled under the most noted of their chieftains. As they approached in dense masses, the fire of the Spanish artillery made terrible havoc in their ranks, but they pressed forward undaunted, and tried to storm or batter down the wall behind which the Europeans were protected. Their flaming arrows soon set fire to the wooden buildings, whilst a cloud of missiles, hurled from powerful arms, inflicted much damage upon the foe.

Night brought some respite from the fatigue of the conflict, but next day it was resumed with unabated vigour. All the slaughter inflicted by the Spaniards failed to daunt the spirit of the enemy. It was in vain that they opened a murderous fire upon the thronging crowd, the places of the slain were instantly filled up by new comers. In vain did Cortez, and the most famous of his comrades, sally forth to charge them sword in hand: worn out with the labours of cutting down the enemy, they were fain to retreat after performing useless prodigies of valour. With bitter taunts the Aztecs pressed upon them as they withdrew behind their ramparts. "The fires of the sacrifice are waiting for you. No matter though a thousand of us should fall to one of your number, not one of you shall escape alive." Such words fell ominously on the superstitious ears of men wearied with fighting and sorely depressed in heart.

The battle was renewed next day; and now Cortez strove to bring the enemy to terms. He induced

Montezuma to address the people, and persuade them to desist, but the magic spell of his despotism was dissolved. The Aztecs reviled him as a traitor, and a shower of missiles fell around him. He was borne away by the Spaniards badly wounded, and their stern hearts must have been touched by the miseries of the unhappy monarch. This last indignity thoroughly crushed his wounded spirit. He refused all the kindness with which the Spaniards strove to comfort him; tore off the bandages with which they stanched his wounds; and nursed his proud sorrow in unbroken silence, until he felt his end approaching: then, summoning Cortez to his bedside, he solemnly intrusted his children to his care, as the most precious jewels he could leave him, and expired in the arms of some of his own nobles, who still remained faithful in their attendance on his person." It was the 30th of June, 1520.

So died the mightiest monarch of the new world. The Spaniards found amongst the millions of the western hemisphere none like in power and wealth unto Montezuma For more than seventeen years he had ruled over his wide dominions, successful in war, and wise in counsel, until, by his own people, he was regarded as more than a mortal man. The re

sources of the country, far and wide, were drained to minister to his wants. All that the earth produced of food or riches was assigned to him, but he fell in the fulness of his pride and luxury; he died dishonoured by his subjects, a captive in the hands of strangers. No wonder that he remained a heathen, and rejected all the entreaties of Father Olmedo; he had suffered too much cruelty and deceit from the Spaniards to have any confidence in the faith which they professed.

Yet there was that within him which, under the Holy Spirit's influence, would have gladly welcomed the message of a dying Saviour's love. We learn that in his last moments he declared that he bore the Spaniards no ill-will for the evils they had brought upon him. Surely such a mind, Divinely taught, would have prized highly the forgiveness which the gospel proclaims. His mournful end enforces and may serve to point the Scripture truth, "that none of us liveth unto himself." The selfishness of Montezuma's rule alienated the affections of his subjects, and so aided the march of the Spaniards to the capital. So true is it, even in worldly matters, that love is politic as well as right, and that if one member of a state suffer, all the members, however exalted, suffer with it.

The position of Cortez was now desperate. His cvertures for peace were rejected, the fury of the enemy was unabated, and he learned that the bridges in the line of his retreat were broken down. It was determined to steal out on the night of the 1st of July, and by the aid of a portable bridge, which had been secretly constructed, to effect if possible their retreat to Tlascala. Arrangements were made for the conveyance of a certain portion of the treasure, and the rest was abandoned to the soldiers, many of whom fell victims in the night to the cupidity which led them to overload themselves with gold. With anxious hearts, we may well believe, they waited for the evening.

The night seemed to favour their retreat; it was dark, and drizzling. The foe had retired to their quarters, and the Spaniards gained the causeway (which connected the island on which Mexico stood with the

mainland) almost unobserved. This causeway was crossed by three openings in the line of the Spaniards'

march, and the bridges over these had been broken down by the Aztecs. Just as the causeway was reached they were discovered. No sooner was an alarm sounded than the priests took up the cry, and from the summits, of their temples roused the whole city to arms. Cortez pushed on with all speed, but it was no easy thing to march the whole army over the bridge. Ere the last of their number had crossed the first opening, an ominous sound arose, and the waters on either side flashed beneath the strokes of a thousand oars, as the boats of the Mexicans bore them to the attack. The first opening, however, was passed in safety; Magarino, at the head of his engineers, advanced to raise the portable bridge and bear it forward to the second opening, but it stuck fast. The heavy weight that had been borne over it had fixed it firmly in the earth, and all efforts to move it were ineffectual. As this terrible news spread, a cry of despair arose from the Spanish force. Assailed in front, cut off in the rear, and attacked on both sides by numbers which increased every moment, their destruction seemed inevitable. Their wily foes rained thick clouds of darts on them, and rushing suddenly up the sides of the causeway grappled with them, hand to hand, and both fell together into the lake; the Mexican was quickly picked up by his friends, whilst the European was as quickly despatched. On they struggled, however, and presently the second opening was almost choked up with baggage, treasure, and dead bodies, mingled in dire confusion. Over this at length they scrambled, the enemy still hanging on their rear as they pressed forward until they reached the third and last opening in the causeway.

Here a fearful scene of confusion ensued. The