With the pope, as pope, our friends, we presume, have not much interest. But all men are curious about those who occupy important positions; and the pope’s is one of the most important in the world. The pope is, moreover, personally one of the best of men, kindly and courteous, seeking to make his visitors happy, and once seemed of liberal and charitable views. Doubtless if he had not taken it into his head that he was infallible, he would have been a benefactor, and possibly a peacemaker, instead of the mischief-maker that he is. To gratify those who may wish to know what kind of a life it is that he leads, we take the following account from the Catholic Review, translated from an article by Mr. Bernadille:— “Winter and summer, the pope, notwithstanding his eighty-three years, rises at half-past five o’clock, and dresses himself without assistance. He nearly always awakens himself. After a short prayer, he enters one of the private chapels, where the blessed sacrament is always preserved, and which contains some precious relics, among which are a fragment of the crib of Bethlehem, and another of the true cross; a piece of the skull of St. John the Baptist, and some of the teeth of St. Peter. Then he prepares to say mass. At seven o’clock he descends to a smaller and less adorned chapel, where he says mass, and where those who have permission to do so, receive communion from his hands. He celebrates mass with great devotion, and with such piety that he is often moved to tears. The holy father next hears another mass, said by one of his chaplains, and then, after giving his benediction to the priest and his assistants, he retires. “It is now three-quarters past eight o’clock, and his Holiness takes his breakfast, which consists of a basin of broth and a cup of black coffee. Cardinal Antonelli now comes to confer with him, except on Tuesdays and Fridays, when he is replaced by his substitute, Mgr. Marino Narini. At ten o’clock the pope reads his letters, which, as will be easily imagined, are usually very numerous. He then looks over the Osservatore Romano and Voce della Verità. Then again the special audiences. The men come in evening dress, with cravats. They genuflect thrice on entering, and then kneel before the pope, who raises them up. The pope is seated; his visitors stand or kneel. Cardinals and princes alone have the right to sit in the pope’s presence. This is one of the most fatiguing parts of the pope’s duty. The secretary’s department is literally inundated with demands entreating audiences; and during the winter season, the number is incredible. At eleven o’clock, the pope takes a basin of soup and a glass of Bordeaux wine, which is sent to him by the Nuns of St. Joseph, and is made from a vine especially devoted to his use. “Men only are permitted to enter the pope’s apartments. When an audience is over, the sovereign pontiff rings a bell placed on a table, and another person is admitted by the prelate who is on duty that day. At about twelve or half-past, when the pope leaves his chamber to walk in the garden of the Vatican, or in the library, or perhaps, in Raphaël’s stanze and loggie, on his passage he sometimes meets a number of families, deputations, and persons, who are received in public audiences. He blesses their medals, rosaries, and the crosses which they bring in abundance. He exchanges a few words with them, and listens to their questions, and often pronounces a short allocution. At half-past one the pope returns from his walk. He dismisses his court, and re-enters one of his chapels, where he remains until two o’clock in adoration before the blessed sacrament. At three he dines.”—Sel.