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3.      *     3. 

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^oung   ITHM^Si*  TibrratriT, 

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I 


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AVE   MARIA. 


1/ 


gl  Catholic  ^Jouvnul,  ilcvotnl  to  tile  Siouav  of  the  §lc$i$c(l  Cirght 


Vol.  y. 


NOTRE  DAME,  INDIANA,  JANUABY  2,  1869. 


No.  1. 


Tke  Feast  of  the  Epiphany. 


The  manifestation  of  truth  to  the  Gen- 
tiles, who  had  sought  for  it  so  long,  is  not 
an  affair  to  be  passed  lightly  over,  with  a 
legend  on  the  three  kings'  feast  and  no 
more  about  it.  It  is  a  matter  which  con- 
cerns ourselves  particularly;  for  all  not 
claiming  a  descent  from  Abraham  are 
Gentiles,  and  all  are  interested  in  this 
special  feast. 

We  have  already  seen  that  all  the 
world,  about  the  time  of  the  birth  of 
Christ,  were  waiting  for  the  advent  of 
Him  who  was  "  the  Expectation  of  Na- 
tions." The  prophet  Daniel  had  fixed 
the  term  at  sixty-nine  weeks  of  years,  or 
four  hundred  and  eighty-three  years  from 
the  time  of  the  prediction.  And  the  Jews, 
scattered  among  every  nation  under  heaven 
gave  out  the  time  of  expectation  for  one 
who  was  expected  by  the  Gentile  tradi- 
tions as  well  as  from  the  Jewish  prophecy. 

Then  came  the  venerable  Patriarch's 
prophecy  to  aid.  Jacob  had  said:  the 
sceptre  shall  not  pass  from  Judah's  line, 
till  lie,  the  Messias,  is  near  at  hand.  Now, 
Judah's  sceptre,  in  spite  of  Judah's  self, 
had  passed  into  the  hand  of  the  Idumean, 
Herod,  to  his  own  great  surprise  ;  for  he, 
Herod,  had  fled  to  Rome  for  safety  against 
his  enemies,  and  was  nominated  king  of 
the  Jews  by  Anthony  and  Octavius  in 
seven  days  after.  This  was  forty  years 
before  the  birth  of  Christ. 

And  he  returned  to  exercise  the  powers 
Conferred. 

We  have  nothing  to  do  with  his  life  of 
tyranny   and  crime  through  those   long 


years.  But  he  held  his  sceptre  only  by 
the  favor  of  Rome;  which  fact  must  have 
tended  to  convince  the  Jews  more  thor- 
oughly that  the  time  prefigured  by  the 
patriarchs,  and  presaged  by  the  seers, 
had  now  at  last  arrived ;  and  holy  Simeon 
was  not  therefore  surprised  when  it  was 
manifested  to  him  that  "  he  should  not 
see  death  before  he  had  beheld  the  Christ 
of  the  Lord." 

"Now  then  that  the  Jews' thronged  every 
year  to  Jerusalem  with  their  ofi'erings,  not 
only  from  all  parts  of  Canaan's  land,  as 
formerly  had  been  the  cas6,  but  from  all 
parts  of  the  world, — from  Italy  and  Greece, 
from  Asia  Minor  and  from  Africa,  from 
Egypt,  Ethiopia,  Arabia,  Babylonia,  Per- 
sia and  the  regions  far  beyond, — with 
what  eagerness  and  in  what  multitude 
must  they  not  have  met  together,  when 
they  hoped  to  behold  Him  whom  they  had 
expected  for  so  many  ages  I  With  what 
holy  joy,  with  what  ardent  curiosity,  must 
they  not  have  conversed  concerning  this 
common  and  approaching  hope,  both  in 
their  families  and  on  their  road,  and  in 
the  holy  city,  as  well  as  on  their  return  1 
This  extraordinary  movement,  this  con- 
versation echoed  on  all  sides,  by  a  people 
scattered  all  over  the  earth,  who  had 
made  proselytes  everywhere,  must  have 
imparted  renewed  life  to  the  ancient  tra- 
ditions found  among  all  people,  and  re- 
vived the  half-effaced  remembrance  of  a 
Redeemer  promised  from  the  beginning 
of  the  world — of  this  Son  of  a  woman 
who  was  to  crush  the  serpent — of  this  son 
of  Abraham  in  whom  all  the  nations  of 
the  earth  were  to  be  blessed — of  this  star 
of  Jacob,  of  this  sceptre  or  king  of  Israel, 
which  Balaam,  a  prophet  of  the  Gentiles, 


4:                                           AVEMARIA. 

Heavy  the  load  we  bore 

Ilew  Year. 

Ere  the  last  year  was  o'er ; 

What  may  l>e  still  in  store  ? 

Ave  Maria  ! 

I. 

Friendlessly  lying. 

V. 

Ah,  'tis  past  guessing, — 

Faded  and  sere, 

With  God  let  it  rest ; 

Helplessly  dying 

Armed  with  His  blessing 

Lies  the  Old  Year. 

Wfi  wait  His  behest ; 

IXo  one  is  sighing, 

Accepting  whatever 

Never  a  tear, 

His  wisdom  may  send. 

AUof  us  crA'ing 

With  e^imest  endeavor 

Hail  to  his  heir. 

Erect  to  the  end. 

Ate  Maria  ! 

Saneta  Maria! 

So  Just  a  year  ago 

Hark  how  His  Word  sublime 

Hailed  we  the  virgin-snow,—' 

Down  the  dim  aisles  of  Time, 

How  many  'neath  it  now? 

Peals  in  eternal  chime, 

Ave  Maria! 

Saneta  Maria! 

■a. 

TL 

iBrave  bells  are  singing 

Faith  ever  measures 

Old  year  adieu, 

The  months  as  they  roll, 

Glasses  are  ringing 

Not  by  Earth's  pleasures, 

Welcome  the  New. 

But  those  of  the  Soul. 

Bell,  bowl  and  laughter 

Her  New  Year  has  borrowed 

And  jubilant  gun. 

Nativity's  sheen. 

As  if  a  hereafter 

And  wears  on  her  forehead 

Ofhlias  had  begun. 

Yule's  mantle  of  green. 

Ave  Maria  ! 

Saneta  Maria/ 

Where  are  the  joys  we've  known, 

With  the  Church,  hand  in  hand. 

Where  are  the  hopes  tbat  shone 

Let  us  in  every  land 

Till  Eden  seemed  our  own  ? 

Move  to  her  high  command. 

Ave  Mivrial 

Saneta  Maria! 

ra. 

vn. 

In  the  dark  trial 

Mother,  the  Comfortress, 
Star  of  the  Morn, 

,     That  comes  at  the  close, 
When  Time's  crumbling  dial 

i.     Its  last  shadow  throws  : 
When  bell,  bowl  and  garland 

Shield  with  thy  broad  caress 

This  Babe  newly  bom. 
Ark  of  the  Covenant 

Shelter  the  years. 
Bride  of  the  Dove,  0  grant 
Wings  to  our  prayers, 
Saneta  Maria! 
That  when  the  bells  are  tolled. 
Safe  in  the  Father's  fold, 
We  enter  thy  House  of  Gold, 
Saneta  Maria  ! 

Lie  dead  with  the  years,^ 
A,nd  one  glimpse  of  the  far  land 
Steals  vaguely  through  tears ; 
Ave  Maria! 
Shall  we  then  turn  from  earth. 
Trustfully,  half  in  mirth. 
Greeting  the  New  Life's  birth  t — 
Ave  Maria! 

17. 

Ah  li6w  we  love  it, 

St.  Francis  of  Sales  temarked  that  we 

This  poor  world  of  Ours, 

could  not  repeat  our  good  resolutions  and 

Though  blooming  aljove  it 

aspirations  often  enough ;  we  should  im- 

Heaven's beckoning  flowers : 

itate  painters  and  sculptors,  who  complete 

Through  sorrow  on  sorrow 

their   works   by  repeated   strokes    of  the 

Sti}l  groping  our  way, 

chisel  and  the  hrush ;    thus,  to  make  an 

Still  asking  to-morrow 
Amends  for  to-day. 

impression  on  our'h6arts,'we  tfitist  repeat 

Ave  Maria! 

the  same  thing  over  and  over. 

AVE      MARIA. 


Letter  of  the  Bishop  of  Orleans  on  the 
Coming  Cleneral  Council. 


The  General  Council  to  be  held  this 
year  is  a  subject  with  which  all  minds  arc 
preoccupied;  friends  and  enemies,  the 
faithful  and  the  dissenters,  look  forward 
with  respect  or  astonishment  to  the  mag- 
nificent assembly  of  catholicity,  convoked 
by  the  august  Pontiff  to  whom  the  revo- 
lution has  left  only  the  remnants  of  his 
States,  and  who  from  the  heights  of  the 
Rock,  menaced  but  immovable,  extends 
to  the  universe  his  benediction  and  laws. 

It  is  the  most  opportune  work  that  can 
be  offered  to  the  zeal  of  the  episcopate  to 
teach  the  faithful  what  will  be  the  power, 
the  splendor  and  the  virtue  of  this  as- 
sembly, the  like  of  which  has  been  held 
only  eighteen  times,  and  has  not  been 
seen  for  three  hundred  years. 

The  Bishop  of  Orleans,  wishing  to  be 
among  the  first  to  accomplish  this  pastoral 
duty,  has  published  the  Letter  which  he 
has  addressed  to  his  diocesans,  and — I 
dare  to  say  on  account  of  the  privilege 
his  eloquent  voice  has  of  echoing  far  over 
the  earth — to  all  those  who  believe  as 
well  as  to  those  who  believe  not,  to  our 
separated  brethren  of  the  West  and  to 
the  schismatics  of  the  East. 

He  proclaims  the  importance  of  this 
"rare  and  solemn  act,"  which  will  be 
"  the  grandest  event  of  the  century,"  and 
he  salutes  in  advance  the  venerable  place 
in  which  this  universal  reunion  of  bishops 
will  take  place,  that  city  of  Rome  "the 
centre  of  spiritual  power;"  Rome,  which 
will  always  be,  in  the  words  of  its  great 
poet,  the  most  beautiful  of  all  things 
under  the  sun,  Rerum pulcherrima  Roma! 

To  this  end  the  illustrious  Bishop  pro- 
poses to  explain  what  (rcneral  Councils  arc, 
what  motives  "inspired  from  on  high" 
have  induced  the  Holy  Father  to  this  act, 
the  most  extraordinary,  the  most  important 
of  his  pontificate;  he  then  examines  if 
there  be  any  foundation  to  the  fears  which 
the  announcement  of  such  an  act  has  ex- 


cited in  the  minds  of  some  badly  disposed 
or  ignorant  people;  and,  finally,  he  shows 
what  results  bishops,  priests  and  faithful 
have  a  right  to  expect  from  it. 

We  give  some  of  the  most  important 
passages  of  this  remarkable  letter. 

I.  After  having  defined  and  established 
what  the  Church  is,  the  Bishop  says: 

"  It  was  necessary  that  this  teaching 
Church,  spread  throughout  the  universe, 
should  have  a  centre,  a  head,  a  chief,  in 
order  that  it  might  rally  in  one  unique 
body.  Jesus  Christ  did  not  disregard 
this  necessity,  and  chose  from  among  His 
apostles  one  whom  He  invested  with 
special  privileges:  to  whom  He  confided, 
according  to  His  own  divine  expression, 
the  keys  of  the  kingdom  of  Heaven;  whom 
He  established  the  foundation,  the  corner 
-  stone  of  the  edifice ;  to  whom  lie  gave  the 
charge  of  confirming  his  brethren  in  the 
faith/  whom  He  named  the  pastor  of  the 
sheep  as  well  as  of  the  lambs — that  is,  the 
Chief  Pastor  of  the  whole  fold." 

He  then  briefly  defines  what  a  council  is: 

"  A  general  council  by  the  very  fact  of 
its  representing  the  whole  Church,  has  the 
privilege  of  doctrinal  infallibility  and 
supreme  authority  given  by  Jesus  Christ 
to  the  Church  itself,  to  the  body  of  pas- 
tors united  with  their  chief.  No  other 
council  has  this  privilege. 

"  The  supreme  Head  of  the  Church,  the 
Pope,  alone,  has  the  right  to  convoke 
general  councils. 

"  For  the  same  reason,  to  the  Pope  alone 
belongs  the  right  of  presiding  over  them. 

"  And  as  it  belongs  to  the  Sovereign 
Pontiff  to  convoke  and  preside  over  a 
general  council,  so  also  to  him  belongs 
the  right  of  closing  it,  of  dissolving  it  if 
necessary,  and  of  confirming  it.  The  ac- 
cord of  the  Bishops  with  the  Pope  is 
manifestly  necessary  to  tli£fficumenical 
result  of  a  council."   /^jSHiT^^ 

Bishop  Dyxpanlowi^j/ext  sU^'X  how 
Pius  IX  resolved  t(|«smnvol*fl^a  Yrdncral 
Council.  vVn^        y'V 

"We  all  remember  !K^S*li4«(uU!lifficul- 


6 


AVE      MARIA 


Lies  which  so  sadly  impeded  the  Council 
of  Trent,  and  these  later  times  appeared 
still  more  unfavorable ;  it  was  thought 
that  modern  powers  were  more  distrustful 
and  more  hostile,  and  the  liberty  of  the 
Church  more  impeded,  her  action  more 
weakened  than  ever.  But  it  was  wrong 
thus  to  calumniate  our  times,  and  instead 
of  having  diffidence  in  Providence  we 
will  do  better  to  admire  its  powerful 
hand,  which,  says  an  old  proverb,  '  writes 
straight  on  crooked  lines,'  and  forces 
events  to  ply,  in  spite  of  men,  to  its 
eternal  designs.  A  missionary  and  a 
traveller,  the  Church  needs  to  see  the 
roads  shortened.  A  preacher  and  a  liber- 
ator, she  profits  by  and  rejoices  at  the 
fall  of  obstacles.  Now,  our  age  has  ac- 
complished these  two  works,  the  suppres- 
sion of  distances,  the  removal  of  barriers. 
I  use  the  words  distances  and  barriers  in 
a  political  and  social  sense,  as  well  as 
from  a  material  point  of  view.  It  was 
thought  that  material  interests  would 
gain  thereby,  and  belief  has  gained;  and 
all  that  movement  which  seems  opposed 
to  the  Church,  and  against  her,  turns  to 
her  profit.  The  spirit  of  the  times  obliges 
the  governments  to  use,  willingly  or  un- 
willingly, more  equity  towards  the  Church, 
and  pulls  down  the  old  prejudices  which 
whilom  impeded  her  actions ;  and  lo,  the 
holding  of  a  General  Council  is,  polit- 
ically, far  easier  to-day  than  it  would 
have  been  in  the  time  of  Philip  II,  of 
Louis  XIV,  or  of  Joseph  II. 

"  *  To  convoke  only  all  the  bishops,'  said 
J.  Demaistre,  in  his  time,  '  and  to  have  it 
legally  acknowledged,  five  or  six  years 
would  not  suflice.'  And,  to-day,  it  suffices 
that  Pius  IX  places  his  Bull  upon  the 
walls  of  the  Lateran :  modern  publicity, 
in  spite  of  contrary  wishes,  carries  it  to 
the  extremities  of  the  world ;  soon,  thanks 
to  the  marvelous  progress  of  science  and 
industry,  on  the  wings  which  steam  lends 
to  our  vessels,  in  those  ohariots  of  fire 
which  devour  space,  from  continents  the 
most  distant,  from  islands  the  most  re- 
mote, the  Bishops  will  come  at  the  call  of 
the  Pontift'.       - 


"They  will  come  from  the  free  coun- 
tries, and,  we  hope,  even  from  those  which 
are  not  free ;  and  thus — I  love  to  repeat 
it — this  double  current  of  the  ideas  and 
industry  of  our  age  will  serve  not  only 
the  material  life  but  also  the  government 
of  souls,  the  high  manifestation  of  the 
spiritual  life  in  humanity,  and  the  grand 
work  of  the  Spirit  of  God  upon  the  earth. 

"  As  it  is  just,  as  Providence  has  wished 
it,  by  this  secret  harmony  hidden  in  the 
bottom  of  things  and  in  the  unity  of  the 
divine  work,  matter  shall  have  been 
pressed  once  again  into  the  service  of  the 
spirit,  and  the  thoughts  of  men  made  sub- 
servient to  the  orders  of  God. 

*'  Three  times  already,  you  know,  gen- 
tlemen, within  a  few  years,  the  catholic 
bishops  have  been  able  to  assemble  around 
the  Vicar  of  Jesus  Christ,  but  none  of 
those  grand  reunions  had  the  character- 
istics of  a  Council.  The  glory  of  connect- 
ing, by  the  holding  of  a  truly  CEcumeni- 
cal  Council,  the  ancient  traditions  of  the 
Church,  go  long  interrupted,  was  still 
reserved  for  that  magnanimous  PontiflT, 
so  strong  in  his  meekness,  so  full  of 
serenity  in  his  trials,  so  confident  in  God 
who  sustains  him,  and,  as  regards  this 
Council,  has  manifestly  inspired  him. 

II.  As  to  the  "programme  of  the  Coun- 
cil,'* the  Bishop  finds  it  in  the  apostolical 
letter  of  convocation,  and  he  thus  ends 
his  commentary : 

"  It  is  then  against  us,  or  rather  for  us, 
before  all,  that  the  Council  assembles. 
There  will  not  be  one  amongst  us  who, 
about  to  take  his  place  in  that  august  as- 
sembly, will  not  have  bent  the  knee,  that 
very  morning,  upon  the  last  step  of  the 
altar,  and,  bowing  low  his  head  and 
striking  his  breast,  will  not  have  said: 
*  If  God  is  not  better  known,  if  He  is  not 
served  about  me,  if  truth  suffers  violence, 
if  the  poor  are  not  assisted,  if  justice  is 
in  peril,  O  God,  it  is  my  fault,  my  very 
great  fault!'  Kings  of  earth,  who  dis- 
pose, sometimes  with  such  fearful  liberty, 
of  the  fate  of  nations  !  ah  how  uiuch  good 
such  an  examcn  would  do  you  also,  if  you 
could  bear  it !     O  human  assemblies,  par- 


AVE      MARIA. 


liaments,  tribunals,  popular  conventions, 
think  you  that  this  self-scrutiny,  these 
avowals,  these  scruples  and  these  coura- 
ageous  habits  of  discipline  and  of  reform 
would  be  useless  to  appease  blind  agita- 
tions, arrogant  passions,  or  to  shake  oflf 
somnolent  routine? 

"  Each  of  us  having  thus  examined, 
questioned  and  severely  accused  himself, 
we  shall  ask  ourselves  what  are  the  ob- 
stacles to  the  propagation  of  the  faith 
among  the  nations  which  have  not  yet  re- 
ceived it,  to  its  re-establishment  among 
those  which  have  lost  it;  we  shall  revise 
regulations,  reform  abuses,  re-establish 
forgotten  laws,  and  modify  what  needs  to 
be  modified.  Under  the  supreme  author- 
ity of  the  common  Father,  the  bishop  of 
bishops,  the  experience  of  old  age  and  the 
ardor  of  youth,  the  inspirations  of  the 
most  saintly,  the  wisdom  of  the  wisest,  all 
will  concur  to  the  generous  and  sincere 
verification  of  our  own  state,  of  our  mis- 
sion upon  earth,  and  of  our  duties ;  and 
this  examen  will  be  made  in  the  freest 
and  most  fraternal  discussion,  and  soon 
will  be  followed  by  solid  resolutions, 
which  from  that  time  and  for  ages  to  come 
will  be  the  rule  of  our  life. 

"  Such  will  be  the  first  object  of  this  as- 
sembly of  bishops;  an  object  sublime  and 
humble,  which  the  children  of  the  Church 
admire,  and  which  strikes  the  enemies  of 
the  Church  with  an  astonishment  they  en- 
deavor in  vain  to  disguise."     *     ♦     »     ♦ 

III.  "  The  cause  of  the  council"  is  the 
state  of  souls,  the  condition  of  society. 
After  doing  justice  to  the  present  time,  in 
so  far  as  it  merits  praise,  the  eloquent 
prelate  deplores  the  "profound  evils" 
which  afflict  it. 

"And  do  not  think,  gentlemen,  that 
mean  to  speak  of  political   strife  and  of 
wars. 

"I  well  know  that  Europe  has  more 
than  once  in  the  years  just  elapsed  re- 
sounded with  the  din  of  battle,  and  at 
the  present  moment  a  secret  uneasiness 
still  agitaies  the  minds  of  men  ;  nations 
arm  and  prepare  themselves  for  a  war  of 


giants.  Is  it  of  these  important  political 
interests,  these  questions  of  nationalities, 
the  balance  of  power,  and  frontiers  of 
countries,  th  at  the  Pontiff  intends  to  speak  ? 
Without  doubt  the  Church  is  not  indiffer- 
ent to  the  peace  or  war  of  nations,  and 
her  prayers  ascend  every  day  to  Heaven 
for  peace  and  concord  between  princes, 
and  among  christian  nations. 

"  But,  I  have  already  had  to  state  it,  it  is 
not  to  settle  such  questions  that  she  calls 
a  Council,  and  the  peaceful  assembly  con- 
voked to  meet  in  Rome  will  meditate 
neither  revolutions  nor  conquests,  nor 
leagues  of  nations  or  of  sovereigns,  nor 
the  elevation  or  downfall  of  dynasties. 
While  all  Europe,  and,  if  we  cast  our 
gaze  still  farther,  while  the  new  world  as 
well  as  the  old  trembles  at  the  rumors  of 
war  and  revolutions,  there,  in  Rome,  in 
that  august  centre,  in  that  reserved  place, 
reunited  around  the  successor  of  Saint 
Peter,  around  the  source  of  truth,  the  pas- 
tors of  the  people,  their  feet  upon  the 
earth  and  upon  the  immovable  rock,  but 
their  eyes  fixed  on  Heaven,  will  be  occu- 
pied with  the  care  of  souls,  with  their 
needs,  with  the  eternal  salvation  of  souls, 
in  a  word  with  the  superior  and  perma- 
nent interests  of  humanity. 

"  And  certainly  they  will  do  well;  for 
who  can  dissimulate  the  state  of  affairs? 
Are  not  souls  in  peril ;  is  not  the  faith  of 
nations  menaced? 

"What  new  heresy  has  then  arisen? — 
you  may  ask.  What  heresy,  gentlemen  ? 
from  the  bosom  of  the  Church,  none; 
never  were  the  clergy  more  united  in 
faith  from  one  end  of  the  world  to  the 
other.  Outside  the  Church,  on  the  con- 
trary, not  only  the  same  attacks,  a  hundred 
times  repulsed,  and  a  hundred  times  re- 
niewed,  are  reproduced  under  new  forms 
and  with  greater  venom,  against  all 
points  of  Christian  doctrine ;  there  is 
still  more:  with  an  impiety  that  far  ex- 
ceeds that  of  the  eighteenth  century,  the 
natural  truths  themselves,  the  primordial 
truths  upon  which  all  here  below  reposes, 
are  denied  and  audaciously  discussed ; 
science  also  has  her  heresies;    thsre  is 


^ 


AVE     MAitlA 


schism  amon^  philosophers ;  and  reason 
now  has  to  undergo  the  assaults  hitherto 
reserved  for  faith. 

"  Strange,  indeed  !  It  is  faith  which 
now  guards  the  treasures  of  reason,  and  is 
her  rampart !  It  is  you,  O  savants,  and 
thinkers,  who  have  need  of  us  !  You  con- 
tinually accuse  us  of  having  neither 
science  nor  intelligence;  but  you,  my 
poor  brethren,  so  wise  and  so  intelligent, 
you  have  scarcely  known  how  to  keep 
one  8tab,le  truth  !  And  you,  O  protestants, 
who  have  pretended  to  reform  the  Church, 
have  need  of  reform  yourselves,  and  feel 
how  much  you  lack  the  great  blessing  of 
authority. 

"  Consider,  in  effect,  the  state  of  minds. 
Whither  are  these  separated  philosophers 
tending?  For  three  centuries  in  Ger- 
many, which  to-day  is  so  profoundly 
shaken,  violent  spirits  have  risen  up, 
who,  rejecting  the  rein  of  faith  and  giv- 
ing themselves  up  to  all  the  rash  vagaries 
of  thought,  have  shown  to  an  astonished 
world  all  the  audacity,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  all  the  weaknesses  of  reason — soon 
followed,  as  is  always  the  case,  by  au- 
dacity and  weakness  of  conduct.  From 
those  prodigious  efforts  of  mind  and  of 
erudition,  what  has  come  forth?  The 
resurrection  of  all  the  old  errors,  panthe- 
ism, atheism,  and  in  religion  itself  the 
most  contradictory  fancies  of  an  exegesis 
in  which,  if  followed,  all  Christianity 
would  perish.  See  in  what  have  ended, 
under  our  eyes,  eighteen  centuries  after 
Jesus  Christ,  the  greatest  intellectual 
labors  perhaps  that  the  world  has  ever 
witnessed. 

"  And  to-day,  here  at  home,  what  do  we 
sec?  All  religious  belief  violently  at- 
tacked ;  the  dissolution  of  all  faith,  even 
philosophic;  the  crumbling  away  of  all 
rational  truths;  the  invasion  of  a  pre- 
tended science  intoxicated  with  itself, 
which  denies  reason,  and  wants  in  the 
name  of  materialism  and  of  atheism  to 
ravish  'from  men  all  faith  in  the  immortal 
soul  and  faith  in  God.  By  all  manner  of 
ways — by  the  press,  journals,  pamphlets, 
romances — the  most  hurtful  doctrines  con- 


cerning God,  the  soul,  morality,  future  life, 
the  family,  society,  are  ardently  dissemina- 
ted. Many  of  our  contemporaries  are  either 
overwhelmed  by  these  errors,  or  float 
without  cothpass  and  without  guide  before 
all  the  winds  of  error.  On  all  sides  tem- 
pestuous darkness  envelops  souls  and  pen- 
etrates to  the  inmost  heart  of  the  popular 
masses. 

"  At  the  same  time  great  misunderstand- 
ing has  arisen  on  all  the  questions  which 
concern  the  Church,  and,  consequently,  a 
mortal  combat  has  been  declared  against 
her.  When,  in  France,  there  burst  forth 
the  revolution  which  is  now  making  its 
way  over  Europe,  over  the  whole  world, — 
the  Church,  attached  by  ties,  which  time 
had  made,  to  the  old  political  order,  was 
carried  away  with  it  by  the  tempest,  and 
in  that  strife  against  her,  that  which  de- 
pended on  legitimate  state  of  things,  with- 
out being  necessary,  could  not  be  dis- 
tinguished from  essential  principles  and 
the  unchangeable  spirit  of  Christianity. 

"  A  blind  and  implacable  hatred  has  sur- 
vived among  certain  men ;  forgetting 
eighteen  centuries  of  benefits,  they  have 
continued  an  ungrateful  war  against  her; 
and  as  this  torrent  of  revolution  rolls  pell- 
mell  in  its  course  truth  and  falsehood, 
virtues  and  crimes,  benefits  and  disasters; 
and  as  the  Church,  which  never  compro- 
mises with  error  and  with  evil,  persists  in 
pointing  out  to  men  of  these  times  the 
illusions  of  deceiving  words,  and  the 
danger  of  false  doctrines; — let  us  say  all — 
as  they  are  obstinately  bent  upon  placing 
to  the  charge  of  the  Church  thoughts 
and  pretensions  that  are  not  hers,  an  im- 
pious or  erring  press  blasphemes  against 
the  Church,  seeks  to  excite  the  people 
against  her;  and  we  hear  in  their  pre- 
tended congresses  without  authority,  in 
the  midst  of  the  cries  of  social  war,  blas- 
phemies at  once  both  stupid  and  sanguin- 
ary, against  the  Church  ;  and  we  see  this 
antagonism  carried  into  the  bosom  of  our 
legislative  assemblies,  in  the  name  of 
M'hich  is  demanded  a  violent  separation 
of  the  Church  and  society. 

"  And  not  long  since,  when  the  voice  of 


itVE     MAS,!  A. 


9 


the  Sovereign  Pontiff  was  raised  to  point 
out  the  overflow  of  this  torrent  of  impious 
or  immoral  theories,  what  a  clamor,  what 
unmerited  accusations  resounded  from  all 
sides!  Without  understanding  his  lan- 
guage, they  calumniated  him;  and  we  saw 
with  sorrow  political  men,  under  the  effect 
of  violent  emotion,  and  without  asking  or 
awaiting  an  explanation,  hasten  to  pro- 
claim an  antagonism  which,  thanks  to  God, 
does  not  exist. 

This  hostility  to  the  Church,  by  driving 
the  deceived  people  away  from  her,  renders 
the  peril  into  which  these  contemporary 
errors  drag  us,  still  more  redoubtable; 
for  doctrines  are  not  inoffensive,  and 
it  is  a  law  of  histoiy,  confirmed  by 
constant  experience,  which  M.  de  Bonald 
promulgated  when  he  wrote  these  vigorous 
words:  'There  are  always  great  disorders 
where  there  are  great  errors,  and  great 
errors  where  there  are  great, disorders.' 
Ideas  give  birth  to  facts;  storms  come 
from  above. 

"And  I  ask  of  men  of  good  faith:  You 
wanted  to  found  the  governments  of  na- 
tions and  our  conduct  in  life  upon  reason 
alone.  For  three-fourths  of  a  century  that 
experiment  has  been  carried  on :  What  is 
the  result?  Have  morals  become  any  bet- 
ter? Is  authority  stable  ?  Has  liberty  been 
founded?  Has  war  disappeared? — and 
misery? — and  ignorance?  How  have  you 
resolved  those  questions  which  r>?a8on  pro- 
pounds with  such  a  rare  fertility  of  inven- 
tion, but  which  she  cannot  answer, — those 
questions  which  concern  the  very  organi- 
zation of  society — labor,  wages,  workmen  ? 
I  exaggerate  nothing  when  I  affirm  that 
since  reason  has  pretended  to  reign  alone, 
she  reigns  like  the  star  of  night,  over 
darkness  she  cannot  vanquish  ;  and  that 
the  earth  has  become,  even  in  the  most 
civilized  societies,  the  sojourn  of  disquiet, 
of  unrest,  of  divisions  and  affright.  The 
nineteenth  century  will  end  agitated, 
weary,  sterile,  incontestably  sick.  Rash 
in  the  extreme  would  he  be  who  would 
dare  to  affirm  that  it  will  end  in  glory  and 
not  in  the  abyss." 

IV.  "  A  view  of  the  past "  shows  what 


remedies  a  General  Council  can  bring  for 
such  perils  and  evils. 

V,  Concerning  the  "  Help  offered  by  the 
Council,"  ends  with  these  eloquent  words : 

"  In  vain  do  you  say  in  your  unjust  and 
ignorant  prejudices  that  the  Church  is  old 
and  the  times  are  new.  The  laws  of  the 
world,  too,  are  old,  and  all  the  new  inven- 
tions of  which  you  are  so  justly  proud 
exist  and  succeed  only  by  the  application 
of  these  laws.  Ah,  you  know  not  of  what 
elements,  at  the  same  time  so  simple  and 
so  resisting,  her  Divine  Founder  formed 
the  Church,  and  what  organization  both 
so  stable  and  progressive  He  has  given  to 
her.  Such  is  the  depth  and  fecundity  of 
her  dogmas,  and  such  too  the  expansive 
character  of  her  constitution,  that  she 
will  never  be  surpassed  by  any  progress 
of  human  society,  she  is  able  to  exist  un- 
der any  political  regime.  "Without  chang- 
ging  anything  in  her  symbol,  she  draws 
from  her  treasure,  according  to  the  words 
of  our  Lord,  from  age  to  age  according  to 
the  needs  of  the  time,  old  things  and  new, 
de  thesauro  suoprofert  nova  et  Vetera/  and 
you  will  find  her  always  ready  to  adapt 
herself  to  all  grand  social  transformations, 
and  to  follow  humanity  in  all  the  phases 
of  its  existence.  The  gospel  is  the  light 
of  the  world,  and  always  will  be ;  and 
therefore,  believe  me,  the  coming  Council 
will  be  the  dawn  and  not  the  sunset. 


Receipts  for  Defence  of  the  Pope. 


Amount  on  hand — from  No.  52 $  336  21 

A  reader  of  the  Ave  Maria,  San- 
dusky, Ohio 5  00 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lowe,  Guilford, Mo.  1  00 

Maggie  and  Mary  Lowe,  "           '*  1  00 

Joseph  and  James  Lowe,  "           "  1  00 
Ellie,  Thomas  and  Frances  Lowe, 

Guilford,  Missouri 1  00 


Total  amount  on  hand |    345  21 

Am't  remitted  up  to  Oct.  5,  1868.  1,343  00 


Total $1,688  21 


10 


AVE     MARIA. 


Christmas. 


ImlUt«d  from  the  Ovrman. 


MARIAPHIIiOS. 


Oh !  the  sweetest ! 

Oh !  the  dearest ! 
Oh !  the  lovely  Christmas  time  I 

Jesus  weeping 

In  His  sleeping 
Speaks  to  every  heart  and  clime. 

n. 

Oh!  the  fairest 

And  the  purest, 
Oh !  the  Virgin  Mother  dear, 

Love  is  malcing 

In  the  breaking 
Of  Redemption's  morning  clear. 

III. 

Oh,  the  splendor 

And  the  wonder 
Of  the  mystery  so  deep  I 

Infant  Jesus 

Come  to  free  us 
From  the  bonds  that  make  ua  weep. 


Oh,  the  pleasure 
Without  measure, 

Contemplating  Mary's  Son, 
In  His  meekness : 
And  His  weakness 

Adam's  reign  of  woe  undone. 


Oh,  the  crying 

And  the  sighing 
Of  the  liearts  that  Jesus  love, — 

Loving  Jesus 

Hearts'  woe  eases, 
And  gives  light  caught  from  above, 

VI. 

Oh !  dear  Mother, 

Oh !  no  other 
After  Jesus  holds  my  heart. 

Sin  and  sorrow 

Dark  to-morrow 
With  thy  name  in  fear  depart ; 

VII. 

Oil,  my  fairest, 
Oh,  my  dearest, 
Oh,  my  brightest  Mother  dear, 


Hear  my  sighing 
In  this  trying 
War  of  dark  temptation  here  I 

vm. 

Oh,  thou  highest, 

Oh,  thou  loveliest 
Flower  of  Heaven's  unchanging  sky. 

Oh,  my  Mt)ther 

No,  no  other 
Wish  I  with  me  when  I  die  1 


Oh,  Thou  humblest, 

Oh,  Thou  meekest. 
Oh,  thou  Virgin  Mother  mild ; 

Mary !  Mother ! 

When  storms  gather. 
Speak  for  me  to  thy  dear  Child ! 


Tbe  JesHlts  in  China. 


In  a  let^pr  sent  from  Canton,  mention 
is  made  of  the  cathedral  going  up  there, 
which  is  to  cost  three  million  dollars. 
We  learn  that  another,  quite  as  magnifi- 
cent and  costly,  is  being  erected  at  Pe- 
kin ;  also  that,  in  nearly  every  important 
city  of  the  empire,  churches  are  being 
erected.  The  Jesuits  are  in  China  in 
great  force.  Here  comes  one  of  their 
priests,  a  Frenchman,  wearing  Chinese 
clothing,  with  a  pig-tail  hanging  down 
his  back.  He  has  become  a  Chinaman, 
following  to  the  letter  the  apostolic  ex- 
ample and  precept — becoming  all  things 
to  all  men,  to  accomplish  the  end  in  view. 
The  Jesuits  throughout  the  empire  have 
adopted  the  dress,  the  habits  and  customs 
of  the  Chinese — eating  as  they  eat,  sleep- 
ing as  they  sleep,  shaving  the  forehead 
and  not  the  crown,  just  as  the  Chinese 
shave  theirs. 

Your  readers  will  remember  that  two 
hundred  years  ago  the  Jesuits  were  nu- 
merous throughout  the  empire,  but  upon 
the  accession  of  a  new  dynasty  they  were 
driven  from  the  kingdom  and  their  prop- 
erty confiscated.  But  through  all  these 
long  years  Rome  has  had  her  eyes  open. 
When  the  French  brought  forward  the 
treaty  lately  signed  between  France  and 


AVE      MARIA. 


11 


China,  one  article  stipulated  that  all  the 
property  confiscated  two  hundred  years 
ago  should  be  restored  to  the  Jesuits. 

"  It  is  impossible,"  said  the  Emperor's 
ministers. 

"  It  must  be  done,"  was  the  reply  of 
the  French  commission. 

"Who  can  tell  where  it  was  situated? 
How  can  it  be  identified?  There  have 
been  great  commotions — a  great  many 
changes  since  then.  We  cannot  find  it," 
said  the  ministers. 

"  Of  course  there  may  be  some  difficulty, 
but  if  the  Fathers  of  the  Church  can  iden- 
tify the  property,  your  highness  will  re- 
store it,"  said  the  bland  commissioners. 

"  O,  yes :  if  they  can  show  that  it  was 
once  owned  by  the  Church,"  and  the  ar- 
ticle went  into  the  treaty. 

A  few  months  later  the  Fathers  appeared 
at  Pekin  with  a  great  bundle  of  title- 
deeds  and  documents,  yellowed  by  time 
and  mouldy  from  their  long  repose  in  the 
archives  of  the  Propaganda  at  Rome. 

The  Emperor's  ministers  were  con- 
founded, but  there  was  no  help  for  it,  and 
so  the  Church  to-day  is  in  possession  of 
immense  estates  in  nearly  every  city  in 
the  empire. 

The  other  day,  while  walking  through 
the  streets  of  the  old  city  of  Shanghae, 
Rev.  Mr.  Yates  pointed  out  long  ranges  of 
buildings  which  had  been  restored  to  the 
Jesuits  under  that  article  of  the  treaty. 
The  income  from  these  estates  is  enor- 
mous. No  estimate  can  be  made  of  the 
amount,  which  is  known  only  to  the  Fa- 
thers, who  keep  their  own  counsel. 

The  Jesuits  are  having  great  success  in 
this  empire.  The  forms  and  ceremonies 
of  the  Buddhist  religion  are  so  much  like 
the  Roman  Catholic  that  one  can  hardly 
tell  the  difference.  A  Chinaman  entering 
a  Protestant  church  sees  no  gods,  images 
or  pictures,  and  he  comes  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  the  Protestants  are  altogether 
godless ;  but  he  enters  a  Jesuit  church  and 
sees  a  better  class  of  images  than  he  is  ac- 
customed to  worship,  pictures  more  pleas- 
ing than  those  upon  the  walls  of  his  own 
temples.     He  sees  the  priests  of  the  altar 


in  gorgeous  robes,  inhales  sweeter  incens 
than  that  ascending  from  the  joss  sticks. 
The  music  of  the  choir,  the  deep-toned  or- 
gan is  more  than  the  rub-a-dub  of  the 
drums.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  the  church- 
es are  thronged  at  morning  Mass  or  at  the 
hour  of  vespers. 

Rome  takes  long  looks  ahead.  She  is 
educating  for  the  future.  Foundlings  are 
picked  up  by  the  hundred  and  thousand; 
poor  parents  sell  their  children  for  a  trifle, 
parting  with  them  that  they  may  be  edu- 
cated by  the  priest.  A  few  years  hence 
these  foundlings  will  be  travelling  the  hills 
and  valleys,  stopping  at  all  the  villages, 
setting  up  schools  and  carrying  on  the 
work  of  the  Church. 

A  gentleman  at  Shanghae,  one  who  has 
been  long  in  the  country,  who  can  speak 
the  language,  who  has  traveled  through 
several  of  the  provinces  dressed  as  a  Chi- 
naman, in  search  of  coal,  and  iron,  and 
other  minerals,  has  had  excellent  oppor- 
tunities for  observation,  and  his  opinion 
is  worthy  of  consideration.     He  says: 

"Of  the  missionary  effort  put  forth  in 
China,  at  least  ninety  per  cent,  is  by  the 
Catholics." 

The  restoration  of  the  confiscated  prop- 
erty has  given  the  Church  of  Rome  great 
vantage  ground.  The  priests  have  been 
pressing  the  Imperial  Government  in  an- 
other direction.  The  French  Minister  has 
obtained  an  imperial  decree  permitting 
the  priests  to  decide  all  questions  of  law 
between  Chinese  Catholics  and  those  who 
still  adhere  to  Chinese  religion.  Secretly 
and  persistently,  constantly  they  are  la- 
boring to  obtain  possession  of  China.  So 
high  a  |>ersonage  as  Sir  John  Browning, 
who  was  here  for  a  long  while,  and  whom 
I  had  pleasure  of  meeting  last  August  at 
the  meeting  of  the  British  Association, 
expresses  the  opinion  that  Romanism 
stands  a  fair  chance  of  obtaining  posses- 
sion of  this  vast  empire.  Certainly  Rome 
is  working  with  zeal,  energy,  singleness 
of  purpose,  and  far-sightedness,  which  may 
challenge  admiration. — Boston  Journal. 


Thk  will  of  God  must  be  our  centre. 


1^ 


AVIS     MARIA 


The  Tamouua^  Pampulet  of  Ouk  Lady 
OF  THB  Sacked  IIeakt  ;  translated  by 
Kev.  Father  Bonjean,  Oblate  of  Mary 
Immaculate,  now  Bishop  of  Medea. 

In  April,  1868,  we  spoke  of  a  pamphlet 
printed  in  the  East  Indies,  in  the  Tamou- 
lian  language,  about  Our  Lady  of  the  Sa 
cred  Heart.  We  had  received  several 
copies,  which  we  preserve  with  great  care 
as  an  authentic  witness  of  the  sympathy 
the  East  Indians  have  for  our  cherished 
devotion  ;  but  the  pamphlet,  unintelligible 
to  us,  excited  our  legitimate  curiosity, 
and  we  ardently  desired  to  know,  word  for 
word,  what  there  was  in  its  pages. 

Providence  came  to  our  aid.  Rev.  Fa- 
ther Bonjean,  Oblate  of  Mary  Immaculate, 
and  Missionary  Apostolic  of  Ceylon,  was 
so  kind  as  to  set  to  work,  and  send  us, 
with  a  cliarity  we  cannot  praise  too  highly, 
the  literal  French  translation  of  the  prec- 
ious little  volume. 

We  have,  then,  been  able  to  convince 
ourself  that  under  these  strange  characters, 
in  that  language  so  different  from  ours, 
were  hidden  the  same  ''^  Remember^  O 
Lady  of  the  Sacred  Heart,''''  the  same  Lit- 
anies, the  same  prayers,  with  only  the 
changes  of  expression  which  the  genius  of 
the  language  and  the  ardent  faith  of  those 
new  christians  i-equired.  They  delight  to 
call  Mary,  praying  for  us,  a  poxcer  without 
shore,  an  immense  lake  of  graces,  the  great 
Sovereign  of  the  Holy  Heart  of  the  Lord 
Jesus,  the  puissant  and  invincible  Lady  of 
the  Divine  Heart.  To  extend  the  Asso- 
ciation of  Our  Lady  of  the  Sacred  Heart 
an  appeal  has  been  made  to  the  East-Indi- 
ans of  every  caste,  without  distinction  of 
title,  age  or  wealth.  They  are  recom- 
mended especially  to  receive  the  good  (the 
holy  communion)  on  the  festival  of  the 
Association.  They  always  call  Mary  by 
the  sweet  title  of  "il/b^Aer,"  or  the  '•''di- 
vine Mother,'^''  Mada,  or  deva  Muda ;  and 
they  willingly  add,  of  the  Sacred  Hearts, 
Tirou  Iroudeyiam,  etc. 

Death  of  Rev.  F.  James  Dili.ox. — But 
a  short  month  ago  we  chronicled  the 
death  of  Rev.  P.  Dillon,  and  to-day  it  is 


our  sad  duty  to  announce  the  death  of  his 
brother.  Rev.  James  Dillon,  who  died  a 
few  minutes  before  3  p.  m.,  Thursday,  the 
17  th  of  December. 

The  mortal  remains  of  Father  James 
and  of  his  brother  were  brought  to  Notre 
Dame  to  be  interred,  and  on  Saturday, 
Dec.  19th,  a  solemn  Mass  of  Requiem  was 
chanted,  Very  Rev.  Father  Provincial 
being  celebrant.  Rev.  F.  Lemonnier  dea- 
con, Rev.  F.  Ruthmann  subdeacon,  and 
Rev.  F.  Spillard  master  of  ceremonies. 
After  the  3Iass,  the  bodies,  accompanied 
by  the  students  and  professors  of  the 
University,  and  numerous  friends  of  the 
clergy  and  laity  who  had  come  with  the 
corpses  from  Chicago,  and  by  the  be- 
reaved family  of  the  deceased,  were  car- 
ried to  the  grave-yard  of  the  community. 
May  they  rest  in  peace.     Amen. 

Relioious  Professions. — Sisters  Rose 
Ackerman  and  Mauro  Feyle  made  their 
solemn  profession,  as  nuns  of  the  Order  of 
St.  Benedict,  on  the  Feast  of  the  Immacu- 
late Conception,  at  St.  Mary's  church, 
Elk  Co.,  Pa.,  and  Misses  Carrie  Graeber, 
Katie  English,  Lizzie  Lotz,  Lizzie  Acker- 
man  and  Emma  Vogel  received  the  names 
of  Sisters  3Iary  Matilda,  Flavia,  Wal- 
burga,  Agnes  and  Edith.  The  Rt.  Rev. 
Bishop  of  Erie  presided  at  the  ceremony. 

At  the  convent  of  the  Sisters  of  Mercy, 
Manchester,  N.  H.,  on  Thursday,  the  3d  of 
December,  Miss  Lucy  Wheeler  (Sister  Mary 
Josephine  Xavier),  Miss  Mary  Whelan 
(Sister  Mary  Pauline  Xavier),  and  Miss 
Julia  Delany  (Sister  Monica),  prpnounced 
their  religious  vows,  and  received  the 
black  veil  from  the  Rt.  Rev.  Dr.  Bacon. 


Spain. — The  religious  people  of  Valen- 
cia have  been,  and  are  at  the  present  time, 
suffering  in  a  manner  that  it  is  impossible 
to  describe ;  for  they  are  being  ruled  by  a 
Provisional  Government  who  arc  by  name 
only  "Liberal,"  and  under  such  colors 
perpetrating  all  classes  of  barbarities,  do- 
ing acts  of  injustice  by  persecuting  tlie  in- 
nocent, the  good,  and  the  most  intelligent 


AVE     MARIA 


13 


and  useful  of  the  Valencian  society.  It  is 
heart-breaking  to  sec  the  wanton  and  cru- 
el destruction  that  the  present  governor 
with  a  handful  of  godless  and  wicked  men 
are  engaged  upon.  They  have  brought  no 
end  of  infamotis  and  false  charges  against 
the  clergymen  of  the  Company  of  Jesus, 
so  that  the  few  who  reside  here  (about 
eight)  have  been  obliged  to  leave  their 
abode  by  order  of  the  "Junta  Revolution- 
aria,"  although  until  now  not  a  word  has 
been  raised  against  their  unspotted  char- 
acters ;  on  the  contrary,  they  have  always 
been  looked  upon  as  the  most  pious,  hard- 
working, and  eloquent  preachers  of  the 
place.  The  church  they  used  was  always 
crowded  to  excess  both  by  poor  and  rich, 
and  every  morning,  long  before  daybreak, 
the  church  was  visited  by  hundreds  of 
market  people,  who  heard  Mass  before  the 
commencement  of  their  labors. 

Whenever  an  extraordinary  feast  was 
given  in  the  parish  churches  of  Valencia 
a  Jesuit  priest  was  always  sought  for  to 
preach  the  sermon,  and  yet  their  church 
is  now  being  levelled  to  the  ground.  It 
was  a  large  and  handsome  building,  pos- 
sessing many  architectural  merits,  besides 
some  fine  sculpture  and  valuable  paint- 
ings. A  painting  in  particular  of  the 
Puriaaima,  by  Juan  de  Juanes,  was  con- 
sidered worth  between  £5,000  and  £6,000. 
This  same  abominable  governor,  with 
his  unholy  followers,  is  also  destroying  two 
fine  and  ancient  convents  situated  in  the 
Calle  del  Mar.  They  gave  the  poor  nuns 
a  few  hours'  notice  only  of  their  diaboli- 
cal intentions,  so  that  they  were  obliged  to 
take  refuge  in  two  neighboring  convents, 
where  they  are  at  present  located,  until 
some  suitable  place  can  be  found  for  them. 
The  convents  were  named  San  Christobel 
and  Santa  Tecla;  the  latter  a  large  and 
interesting  building,  on  account  of  its  an- 
tiquity and  historical  incidents ;  accord- 
ing to  some  writers  it  was  the  Palace  or 
Pretorio  of  Daciano,  and  others,  that  it 
was  a  tribunal  of  justice  where  San  Vin- 
cente  suffered  all  his  torments. 

Until  th«  seventeenth  century  the  stair- 
case which  San  Velero  and  San  Vincentc 


mounted  when  they  were  brought  from 
Saragossa,  prisoners,  in  the  year  303  or 
307,  was  perfect  in  conser\'ation,  also  the 
room  in  which  the  sentence  was  pro- 
nounced against  them ;  and  until  yester- 
day, the  cell  existed  in  which  San  Vin- 
cente  was  imprisoned  ;  it  was  in  the  cen- 
tre of  an  ancient  tower.  The  Moors, 
when  in  possession  of  Valencia,  respected 
and  preserved  these  ancient  relics,  which 
this  revolutionary  rabble  have  destroyed 
without  remorse  or  feeling.  That  most 
useful  and  holy  society,  San  Vincente  de 
Paul,  has  also  been  dissolved  by  orders 
from  the  Provincial  Government,  thereby 
leaving  two  or  three  thousand  of  poor 
and  necessitous  people  without  the  means 
of  providing  for  themselves  food  and 
clothing,  and  they  have  taken  from  the 
young  and  ignorant  the  schools  where  they 
used  to  obtain  both  useful  and  religious 
instrue.tion. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  sorrow  and 
trouble  I  am  delighted  at  being  able  to  re- 
late to  you  a  little  incident,  which  hap- 
pened in  a  small  town,  near  here,  of  the 
name  of  Torrente.  At  the  commencement 
of  the  revolution,  and  after  the  Junta  had 
been  formed,  the  Governor  of  Valencia 
sent  them  orders  to  destroy  without  delay 
a  large  and  ancient  convent,  but  when  the 
poor  but  good  people  heard  of  what  was 
to  take  place,  they  were  dreadfully  indig- 
nant, so  they  formed  themselves  instantly 
in  procession — men,  women,  and  children 
— and  marched  to  the  spot,  crying  lustily, 
'■'^ Libertad  de  Religion^''  and  they  com- 
pelled the  Junta  and  their  mob  to  disperse, 
thereby  saving  the  sacred  structure  from 
destruction.  Would  to  God  that  Valencia 
and  other  cities  of  Spain  had  followed  the 
example  of  these  good  and  honest  people 
of  Torrente,  and  then  not  only  many 
thousands  of  duros,  but  many  heartaches 
might  have  been  saved,  and  also  the  good 
name  of  Spain  might  have  been  preserved 
from  the  stains  which  now  affect  her 
character. 


Every  moment  is  worth  an  eternity. 


14 


AVE     MARIA 


The  Giornale  di  Boma  of  the  lOth  ult., 
says:  Yesterday,  at  a  quarter  to  eleven, 
the  Holy  Father  paid  a  visit  to  the  Tre 
Fontane.  In  this  place  the  Apostle  of  the 
Gentiles  suftered  martyrdom,  and  many 
churches  have  been  erected,  as  also  an 
abbey,  which  is  one  of  the  finest  buildings 
of  the  kind  in  or  about  Rome.  Many 
illustrious  cardinals  of  the  Holy  Roman 
Church  have  been  honored  with  the  titles 
of  this  abbey.  Monsignor  Giuseppe  Milesi- 
Pironi-Ferretti  is  the  present  acting  abbot. 
Here  the  Holy  Father  established  the 
monks  of  the  reformed  Order  of  La  Trappe, 
which  has  also  been  enriched  by  the  mu- 
nificence of  M.  de  Maumigny,  a  French- 
man, and  of  other  generous  benefactors. 
The  Pope  was  received  on  his  arrival  by 
Cardinal  Milesi,  the'abbot,  by  Cardinals 
Antonelli,  Pitra,  and  Barilli ;  and  by  the 
abbot  of  the  Grande-Trappe,  the  Abbe 
D'Aiguebelle,  in  France,  and  the  Abbe 
Regis,  the  purveyor-general  to  the  whole 
community.  In  the  chapel  of  the  choir 
the  Pope  venerated  the  relics  of  St.  Zenon 
and  others.  After  partaking  of  a  collation, 
which  had  been  provided  by  the  Cardinal 
Abbot,  the  Pope  took  to  his  carriage  and 
returned  to  the  Vatican. 

Thb  Paris  correspondent  of  the  Xon- 
don  Register  writes : 

Catholics  cannot  be  too  vigilant  in 
watching  for  false  ideas  set  afloat  concern- 
ing the  future  Council.  For  this  reason  I 
cannot  refrain  from  refuting  at  once  the 
gross  errors  contained  in  the  Greek  Patri- 
arch's refusal  to  attend  next  year's  Council. 
The  Patriarch  pretends  that  he  could  not 
agree  with  the  Pope,  because  the  princi- 
ples of  Rome  are  opposed  to  the  Gospel, 
to  the  Apostles,  and  to  tradition.  One  of 
these  principles,  that  of  Rome's  supremacy, 
is,  he  says,  a  doctrine  that  was  unknown 
in  the  East  ten  centuries  ago.  If  the 
Greek  Patriarch  is  sincere  in  making  this 
assertion,  his  knowledge  of  the  Greek 
Fathers  and  Byzantine  historians  is  such 
as  would  shame  ihe  most  ignorant  layman, 
and  tempts  us  to  ask  to  what  vile  use  he 
has  put  the   treasures  contained   in   the 


patriarchal  library?  I  won't  quote  Scrip- 
ture, "  Tu  e^  Petriiiy''''  etc.,  nor  yet  ask  why, 
in  the  very  first  century,  the  Corinthians 
consulted  Pope  Clement  rather  than  any 
other  bishop  of  the  East  or  West?  I  will 
content  myself  with  the  testimony  of  the 
Fathers  and  Councils  before  the  time  of 
Photius,  as  I  find  it  in  a  French  writer. 
St.  Justin  came  from  the  East  to  Rome,  as 
to  the  centre  of  christian  faith.  The 
Eastern  saint,  Irenseus,  a  disciple  of  one 
of  St.  John's  disciples,  says,  in  his  work 
on  "Heresies,"  that  "all  the  faithful 
should  remain  united  to  the  Roman  Church 
on  account  of  its  supremacy."  Origen, 
St.  Athanasius,  St.  John  Chrysostom, 
have  all  written  that  the  Bishop  of  Rome 
is  "the  corner-stone"  and  "foundation" 
of  the  Church.  The  Nicene  Council, 
those  of  Constantinople,  Ephesus,  and 
Chalcedon,  all  anterior  to  Photius,  af- 
firmed solemnly  Rome's  supremacy.  At 
Chalcedon  the  Fathers  cried  out  with  one 
voice,  "It  is  the  faith  of  the  Church  and 
the  Apostles;  Peter  has  spoken  by  the 
mouth  of  Leo."  It  was  the  reading  of  a 
letter  from  Pope  Leo  to  Flavius  which 
called  forth  this  spontaneous  testimony  to 
Rome's  supremacy. 


HILBREN'S 


EPARTMENT. 


ANGELA. 

A  Legend  of  the  Blessed  Tirgin. 

Many  years  ago,  in  an  old  Italian  town, 
there  lived  an  artist  named  Leonardo,  and 
his  daughter,  a  fair  young  girl  of  about 
fifteen.  Angela  was  her  name,  and  it 
seemed  to  suit  her  well,  for  her  sweet  face 
in  its  pale  purity  and  the  bright  waves  of 
her  golden  hair  were  just  what  we  might 
picture  to  ourselves  as  belonging  to  the 
angels. 

Still  more,  however,  in  the  innocence  of 
her  heart,  than  in  the  beauty  of  her  coun- 


AVE     MARIA 


15 


tonancc,  did  Angela  resemble  God's  guar- 
dian f«pirit8,  after  whom  she  was  named. 
The  blessings  of  the  poor  followed  her, 
for  it  was  her  delight  to  minister  to  their 
wants.  And  many  a  wretched  death-bed 
was  cheered  by  her  presence  and  the  words 
of  hope  and  consolation  which  fell  from 
her  lips. 

Leonardo,  her  father,  was  a  proud,  stern 
man,  whose  whole  soul  was  given  up  to 
ambition  and  the  love  of  fame.  Although 
he  delighted  in  painting  pictures  of  our 
Lady  and  the  saints,  it  was  merely  that 
they  should  be  admired  by  men,  and  add 
to  his  earthly  renown.  The  sweet  coun- 
tenance of  the  Infant  Jesus,  when  it 
smiled  upon  him  from  the  canvas,  awak- 
ened no  thrill  of  love  in  the  heart  of  the 
proud  artist ;  he  only  felt  a  glow  of  pride 
that  his  was  the  hand  that  had  painted  so 
exquisite  a  picture. 

Next  to  his  own  genius,  Leonardo  glo- 
ried in  that  Albrecht,  his  pupil,  whom  he 
regarded  as  his  successor,  and  the  person 
to  whom  he  should  entrust  the  completion 
of  any  works  which  might  remain  unfin- 
ished at  his  death.  Albrecht  was  :i  Ger- 
man, a  handsome  youth,  with  a  broad  fair 
brow  that  bore  the  impress  of  genius,  and 
an  eye  kindling  with  inspiration.  He  was 
an  orphan,  and  his  home  was  with  Leon- 
ardo. Angela  and  he  had  now  lived  be- 
neath the  same  roof  for  years ;  she  was 
quite  a  little  child  when  first  he  knew  her, 
yet  even  then  she  had  made  for  herself  a 
place  in  his  heart.  Every  day  she  had 
grown  dearer  to  him ;  until  now,  in  the 
dawn  of  her  womanhood,  her  presence 
seemed  the  very  sunshine  of  his  existence. 

The  young  girl  loved  him  also  with  true 
affection,  but  as  yet  it  was  only  with  the 
calm  love  of  a  sister,  and  it  was  with  a 
clear  unconscious  glance  that  she  looked 
into  the  eyes  which,  when  they  turned 
upon  her,  were  unfathomable  in  their 
depths  of  tenderness. 

Leonardo  mixed  but  little  in  society;  his 
cold  proud  bearing  seemed  to  chill  all 
those  who  approached  him,  and  if  men 
accorded  him  their  praise  he  cared  but 
little    for    themselves.     He    lived    in    a 


strange,  old-fashioned  villa,  which  stood 
alone  and  remote  from  other  dwellings ; 
and  here,  almost  shut  out  from  the  world, 
with  no  companions  save  her  father  and 
Albrecht,  Angela  had  lived  a  peaceful, 
happy  life,  with,  however,  one  sorrow 
weighing  heavily  upon  her  heart.  Grave 
and  pious  beyond  her  years,  it  was  with 
pain  akin  to  anguish  that  the  girl  observed 
how  the  thirst  for  fame  was  corrupting 
her  father's  heart ;  and  frequently  did  she 
pray  that  he  might  find  the  emptiness  of 
human  applause,  and  learn  to  work  for  a 
higher  and  holier  motive. 

Every  evening,  at  the  Benediction  hour, 
when  she  knelt  before  our  Lady's  altar  in 
the  church,  which  was  close  by  her  home, 
she  implored,  with  never-tiring  faith,  the 
grace  of  conversion  for  her  father. 

Time  went  past,  however,  and  her 
prayers  were  not  answered ;  it  seemed  as 
though  they  never  would  be,  for  the  shadow 
which  had  fallen  upon  Leonardo's  soul 
grew  darker  and  darker,  till  it  seemed  to 
stand  between  him  and  every  glimpse  of 
what  was  good  and  holy;  religion  was 
neglected  and  every  thought  of  his  soul's 
welfare  forgotten.  Angela  wept,  and  was 
patient,  and  prayed  on ;  evening  after 
evening,  when  the  twilight  crept  into  the 
quiet  church,  and  the  air  was  full  of  fra- 
grant incense  and  sweet  music,  the  same 
earnest  prayer  rose  up  to  heaven  before 
our  Lady's  altar, 

"  Oh  !  Mother,  change  his  heart." 

The  church  where  Angela  prayed  was  a 
very  beautiful  one,  rich  in  all  the  pictur- 
esque beauty  of  arch,  and  pillar,  and 
stained  glass,  through  which  the  sun 
shone  in  with  soft  and  mellowed  beams. 
The  altar  was  of  the  purest  white  marble; 
upon  its  broad  slab  knelt  sculptured  an- 
gels, supporting  a  canopy  of  wrought 
gold,  beneath  which  reposed  the  Holy  of 
Holies.  Above  the  altar  was  a  large  va- 
cant space,  which  seemed  intended  for  a 
picture  of  the  Immaculate  Conception. 
Leonardo  had  been  chosen  as  the  artist, 
and  requested  to  exert  his  utmost  skill  to 
make  the  picture  worthy  of  so  prominent 
a  place  in  so  splendid  a  temple. 


16 


AVE     MARIA. 


The  proud  soul  of  the  artist  swelled 
within  him,  and  he  determined  to  paint  so 
map^nificent  a))ieture  that  the  whole  world 
should  be  amazed  at  its  beauty,  and  de- 
clare him  to  be  the  first  of  living  artists. 

Foolish  Leonardo !  was  this  the  spirit 
in  which  to  approach  the  delineation  of 
her  who  for  her  humility  was  exalted? 

One  bright  summer  morning,  Angela, 
her  fjither,  and  Albrecht,  sat  together  in 
the  studio  painting.  Angela  soon  laid 
down  her  brush,  and  sat  with  her  fore- 
head resting  upon  her  hand,  watching 
her  father.  Albrecht,  too,  had  ceased  to 
work,  and  his  eyes  were  fixed  upon  An- 
gela, and  far  away  in  the  future  a  vision 
rose  before  him  of  a  home  upon  the  bor- 
ders of  his  own  blue  Rhine — a  home  that 
seemed  a  very  heaven  upon  earth,  sancti- 
fied by  the  presence  of  Angela,  his  wife. 
Leonardo  alone  seemed  absorbed  in  his 
painting.  He  was  working  at  his  great 
picture,  which  was  now  pretty  far  ad- 
vanced; in  fact,  it  was  almost  completed, 
with  the  exception  of  the  Virgin's  face, 
which  was  merely  sketched  in,  and  seemed 
as  though  it  had  been  frequently  erased. 
It  represented  the  woman  clothed  with 
the  sun,  the  moon  beneath  her  feet, 
and  "upon  her  head  a  crown  of  twelve 
■stars." 

Leonardo'^'ork«d  on  in  silence  for  a 
long  time ;  he  touched  and  retouched  the 
azure  drapery,  the  golden-tinted  clouds, 
the  silvery  crescent  of  the  moon.  Then 
he  drew  a  long  breath,  and  murmured  to 
himself  "  This  picture  shall  earn  for  me 
a  fame  that  will  endure  as  long  as  time 
shall  last;  my  name  shall  go  down  to  pos- 
terity encircled  by  a  halo."  He  started 
as  Angela  made  some  slight  movement, 
(for  he  had  quite  forgotten  her  presence 
and  that  of  Albrecht).  "Leave  me,  my 
children,"  he  said  hurriedly,  "I  wish  to  be 
alone;  I  am  going  to  paint  the  face  of  my 
picture.  Is  it  not  your  hour,  Angela,  for 
going  to  the  church?" 

Albrecht  left  the  studio  immediately, 
and  Angela  too  rose,  and  was  about  to 
follow  him,  when  a  sudden  impulse  made 
her  turn   back.     "My  own  dear  father," 


she  said,  "  will  you  not  kneel  and  pray, 
before  you  attempt  to  paint  tliis  heavenly 
face?  Make  an  oftering  of  your  picture  to 
our  Lord,  and  ask  Him  for  inspiration  to 
paint  the  face  of  His  Mother."  ^ 

Leonardo  frowned;  he  was  in  no  humor 
to  be  interrupted,  and  he  impatiently 
waved  his  daughter  away. 

Albrecht  was  waiting  in  the  garden  for 
Angela;  this  was  to  him  the  happiest  hour 
of  the  day,  when,  his  studies  over,  he  was 
at  liberty  to  walk  with  her  to  the  church 
and  kneel  by  her  side  during  the  Benedic- 
tion. She  came  walking  along  with  a 
slow  and  listless  step,  and  Albrecht  started 
when  he  saw  her  face  pale  and  streaming 
with  tears ;  that  face  upon  which  he  had 
never  before  seen  a  cloud.  His  heart 
ached  to  witness  her  distress,  of  which  he 
kuew  too  well  the  cause,  and  he  tried  to 
comfort  her  as  they  walked  along,  but 
she  only  shook  her  head  in  mournful 
silence. 

"Alas!  no,"  she  said  at  last,  "he  will 
not  change;  he  has  no  thought  but  for  his 
art;  no  hope,  no  desire  but  for  earthly 
fame." 

"Still  you  must  not  despair,  dear  An- 
gela," replied  her  companion;  "God,  in 
His  own  time,  will  change  your  father's 
heart;  trust  all  to  His  providence" 

"Ah,  if  I  could  but  think  so,"  said  the 
weeping  girl.  "What  would  I  not  give  for 
this  blessed  hope  !" 

"Fear  not,  Angela,"  said  Albrecht; 
"  God  will  accept  the  prayers  of  the  child 
for  her  father." 

"Prayers!"  she  exclaimed;  "alas, what 
are  my  poor  prayers ;  I  would  give  every- 
thing, even  life  itself,  for  my  dear  father's 
good." 

She  paused;  a  sudden  thought  seemed 
to  strike  her;  a  light  as  if  from  above 
seemed  to  brighten  her  countenance.  She 
stood  for  a  moment  as  if  inspired. 

"Yes,  Albrecht,"  she  said  at  last,  "I 
shall  ask  our  Lord  to  take  my  life,  as  the 
price  of  my  father's  soul ;  it  is  the  most 
precious  thing  I  have  to  offer,  and  I  think 
it  would  be  accepted." 

[to  be  continued.] 


AVE   MARIA. 

3V  itatholic  iJJottvnul  rtrrtitccl  to  i\\t  fionar  of  the  '^U^^mI  Txx^xw 


Vol.  V. 


NOTEE  DAME,  INDIANA,  JANUARY  9,  1869. 


No.  2. 


Frederic  Ozanam. 


Among  the  contributions  to  the  Ave 
Maria  is  one  ou  the  life  of  Frederic 
Qzanam,  which  will  appear  soon;  in  the 
mean  time  we  give  an  extract  from  one  of 
his  works,  lately  translated  by  a  member 
of  the  bar  in  England,  an<l  given  to  the 
public  l)y  an  enterprising  protestant  pub- 
lisher of  this  country. 

The  History  of  the  5th  Century,  from 
which  we  cull  the  following  paragraphs, 
forms  a  part  of  a  great  work  the  author 
undertook,  to'bring  out  in  full  relief  the 
influence  of  the  Church  in  civilizing  the 
nations  of  Europe.  Though  forming,  thus, 
a  part  of  a  more  extensive  work,  the  vol- 
umes before  us  are  complete  in  themselves, 
and  should  be  in  the  libraries  of  all  cath- 
olic institutions,  in  some  of  which  Gib- 
bon's Rome  frequently  holds  the  most 
prominent  place. 

To  give  an  idea  of  the  spirit  of  this 
book,  we  take  an  eloquent  passage  from 
the  preface  of  the  author  : 

"  We  know  how  Gibbon,  the  historian, 
visited  Rome  in  his  youth,  and  how  one 
day,  as,  full  of  its  associations,  he  Avas 
wandering  over  the  Cajjitol,  he  beheld  a 
long  procession  of  Franciscans  issuing 
from  the  doors  of  the  Ara  CodH  Rasilica, 
and  brushing  with  their  sandals  the  pave- 
ment which  had  been  traversed  by  so  many 
triumphs.  It  was  then  that,  indignation 
giving  him  inspiration,  he  formed  the 
plan  ot  avenging  the  antiquity  which  had 
been  outraged  by  christian  barbarism,  and 
conceived  the  idea  of  a  history  of  the  de- 
cline of  the  Roman  Empirei     And  I  have 


also  seen  the  monks  of  the  Ara  Cceli 
crowding  the  old  pavement  of  the  capito- 
lian  Jove.  I  rejoiced  therein  as  in  a  vic- 
tory of  love  over  force,  and  resolved  to 
describe  the  history  of  progress  in  that 
epoch  where  the  English  philosopher  only 
saw  decay,  the  history  of  civilization  in 
the  period  of  barbarism,  the  history  of 
thought  as  it  escaped  from  the  shipwreck 
of  the  Empire  of  htters  and  traversed  at 
length  those  stormy  waves  of  invasion,  as 
the  Hebrews  passed  the  Red  Sea,  and 
under  a  similar  guidance,  yor//  tegente 
hrachio.  I  know  of  no  fact  which  is  more 
supernatural,  or  more  plainly  proves  the 
divinity  of  Christianity,  than  that  of  its 
having  saved  the  liuman  intellect.'" 

Deferring  for  the  present  an  analysis  of 
the  whole  work,  we  deem  it  better  to  take 
an  extract  from  the  chapter  on  the  influ- 
ence of  woman  upon  music,  literature,  etc. 

After  showing  the  degraded  condition 
of  woman  under  pagan  influence,  despite 
legislative  enactments:  how  the  pagan 
Roman  theory  of  marriage  was  beJied  by 
practice;  the  inequality  of  the  respective 
obligations  of  man  and  wife;  the  facility 
of  divorec,  and  consequent  frivolity  and 
immorality  of  pagan  women  ;  he  then 
shows  how  christian  theology  presupposes 
the  dignity  of  the  female  sex,  and  portrays 
the  christian  woman's  share  in  the  work 
of  civilization — Clotilda,  Bertha  and  Theo- 
dolinda  being  placed  as  the  forerunners  of 
Blanche  of  Castile  and  Joan  of  Arc. 

"  But  it  was  not  suflicient  for  christian 
womanhood  to  take  up  with  a  reforming 
hand  painting  and  the  plastic  arts  ;  it  was 
also  to  enter  the  domain  of  poetry,  then 
overflowing  with  the  ardors  of  Sappho, 
Alcffius,  burning  with   the  passion  which 


^ 


19 


AVE     MARIA. 


Z3i 


had  been  kindled  by  the  women  of  old 
times — poetry,  which  was  to  be  purified 
by  being  sprinkled  with  the  blood  of  those 
virgin  martyrs,  who  were  to  be  for  the  fu- 
ture the  heroines  and  inspirers  of  the 
christian  bards.  And  it  is  a  touching 
fact,  that  the  first  woman  who  moved  and 
drew  forth  new  accents  from  poetry  for 
the  Church  was  a  young  girl,  St.  Agnes, 
who  was  martyred  at  Rome  at  the  close 
of  the  persecution  under  Diocletian,  A.  D. 
310.  A  sort  of  prominence  was  attached 
to  her,  as  the  youngest  born  of  the  nu- 
merous family  of  martyrs.  All  the  efforts 
of  the  imagination  of  the  time,  added  to 
love,  respect,  enthusiasm,  were  united,  as 
it  were,  to  compose  her  crown. 

A  short  time  after  her  death  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  of  christian  legends  was 
related  of  her.  It  told  how,  as  her  par- 
ents, some  little  time  after  her  martyrdom, 
were  spending  a  night  in  prayer  at  her 
tomb,  the  virgin  Agnes  appeared  in  the 
brightest  light,  amidst  a  multitude  of  vir- 
gins clothed  like  herself  in  long  robes  of 
gold,  and  having  a  snow-white  lamb  at 
her  side.  She  addressed  her  weeping  par- 
ents, and  said:  "Weep  not,  for  you  see 
that  I  have  been  admitted  into  this  com- 
pany, in  the  abodes  of  light,  and  that  I 
am  united  now  with  those  whom  I  have 
ever  loved."  Her  life  seemed  to  have  at- 
tracted the  notice,  and  charmed  the  re- 
spect of  all  the  men  of  her  age,  and  no 
sacred  topic  has  been  more  frequently  cel- 
ebrated in  the  discourses  of  the  eloquent 
or  the  verses  of  the  poets.  Three  times 
did  St.  Ambrose  return  to  it,  and  at  the 
beginning  of  his  work  "  De  Virginitate," 
took  pleasure  in  honoring  the  action  of 
the  maiden  who  had  braved  her  execu- 
tioners, and  had  advanced  to  the  place  of 
slaughter  with  a  more  triumphant  step 
than  .if  she  had  been  about  to  bestow  her- 
self on  the  most  illustrious  scion  of  the 
consular  houses. 

But  the  poets  especially  claime<^  it  as 
their  own,  and  Pope  St.  Damas.us,  in  the 
first  place,  who  lived  at  the  end  of  the 
fourth  century,  sang,  in  a  3hort  but  forci- 
ble poem,  of  the  martyrdom  and  glory  of 


St.  Agnes :  "  how  at  the  mournful  signal 
given  by  the  trumpet,  she  rushed  from  the 
arms  of  her  nurse,  trampled  under  foot 
the  tyrant's  menace ;  and  how,  when  her 
noble  body  was  given  over  to  the  flames, 
her  young  soul  conquered  their  great  ter- 
ror, and  how  she  covered  herself  with  her 
long  hair,  for  fear  lest  her  eyes,  then 
about  to  perish,  should  not  behold  the 
temple  of  God." 

Viribus  immcnsum  parvis  superasse  timorem 
Nudam  profusum  crinem  per  membra  dedisse 
Ne  domini  templum  facies  peritura  videret. 

And  those  beautiful  verses  are  equalled 
by  the  hymn  composed  by  Prudentius,  a 
poet  of  the  fifth  century,  in  honor  of  St. 
Agnes,  in  which  he  narrated  at  length  the 
history  of  the  martyr,  and  crowns  her  by 
the  following  invocation  :  "  O  ha^py  vir- 
gin, O  new  born  glory,  noble  dweller  in 
the  heavenly  palace  !  lower  towards  our 
mire  your  brow,  now  girt  with  a  double 
diadem.  The  light  of  your  favoring  coun- 
tenance, if  it  penetrate  therein,  will  pu- 
rify my  heart.  For  every  place  becomes 
pure,  on  which  you  deign  to  cast  your  eyes, 
and  every  place  on  which  your  foot  so 
brilliant  in  its  whiteness  has  alighted." 
Surely  this  poetry  has  recovered  the  an- 
cient fire,  but  the  path  along  which  it 
journeyed  is  one  which  leads  to  heaven. 

And  yet  another  breath  was  to  proceed 
from  the  lips  of  woman  to  penetrate  the 
depths  of  christian  poesy,  and  reveal  there- 
in a  fertility  of  which  succeeding  ages 
would  reap  the  fruit,  in  the  shape  of  Pla- 
tonic love. 

This  sentiment  only  just  began  with 
Plato  to  free  itself  from  the  obscurity  and 
depravity  of  the  Greek  idea  of  love ;  but 
when  a  christian,  who  had  been  touched 
by  its  inspiring  influence,  wrote  for  the 
first  time  in  prose,  a  prose  instinct  with 
poetry,  when  Herraas  composed  his  won- 
derful "  Shepherd,"  Platonic  love  found 
place  in  its  pages,  but  sufi'ered  no  sur- 
roundings whicli  were  not  chaste.  He  re- 
lated that  in  his  youth  he  had  loved,  for 
her  beauty  and  her  virtue,  a  young  chris- 
tian slave,  the  property  of  his  tutor,  and 
often  had.  eaid,  "Happy  should  I  be  hud 


Z' 


AVE     MARIA 


19 


I  such  a  wife."    But  some  time  after,  he 
wandered  into  the  country  along  with  his 
thoughts,  honoring  the  creatures  of  God 
which  seemed  so  fair ;  and  at  last  falling 
asleep,  dreamed  that  he  was  on  his  knees 
at  prayer  in  a  wild  spot ;  and  as  he  prayed 
the  sky  opened,  showing  to  him  the  maid- 
en he  had  loved,  who  said  to  him: 
"  Hail,  Hermais !" 
"My  lady,  what  do  you  there?" 
"I  have  been   called  hither  to  accuse 
you  before  God." 

"My  lady,  if  I  have  sinned  against  you, 
when  was  it,  and  where?  Have  I  not  al- 
ways regarded  you  as  my  mistress,  and  re- 
spected you  as  my  sister?" 
-  "  An  evil  desire  has  found  its  way  into 
your  heart ;  pray  to  God,  and  He  will  par- 
don you  your  sins." 

And  the  heavens  closed  again.  This 
commenced  the  love  which  (questions  even 
the  legitimate  object  of  marriage,  which 
desires  nothing  in  its  own  interest,  but  is 
consistent  in  sacrifice  and  devotion,  and 
becomes  faulty  the  moment  that  it  ceases 
to  forget  itself. 

With  regret  we  end  the  extracts  from 
these  excellent  volumes,  and  again  recom- 
mend them  to  our  readers,  as  the  very 
best  reading  matter  they  can  have  for  the 
time,  and  to  put  away  on  the  shelves  of 
their  library  to  refer  to  whenever  they 
wish  anything  to  read  both  interesting 
and  useful. 

Receipts  for  Defeoce  of  tlie  Pope. 

Amount  on  hand — from  No.  1 $  345  21 

A  friend,  Philadelphia 1  00 

Mrs.  M.  M.  Phelan,  Lancaster,  O.,       25  00 


Total  amount  on  hand $    371  21 

Am't  remitted  up  to  Oct.  5, 1868.  1,343  GO 


Total $1,7U  21 


Dogs  never  bark  at  the  house  folks,  but 
at  strangers.  Thus  the  devil  never  tempts 
those  who  love  the  temptation,  and  belong 
to  him. 


Hymn  to  oar  Qneen  and  lHother  at  the 
OpeniDg  of  tbe  Year. 


Queen  of  that  sacred  bond  of  lore 

The  Saviour  died  to  form  and  bleM, 
The  love  that  binds  the  saints  above 

In  their  exalted  happiness, 
With  pilgrims  in  earth's  wilderness ! 
The  love  that  thrills  the  seraph  bright 
In  the  ethereal  Jialls  of  light, 
The  love  that  at  the  martyr-hour 
Strengthens  above  tormentor's  power, — 
Absorbs  the  sense,— to  feel  but  God, 
When  clanks  the  chain,  when  strikes  the  rod ! 
0  Mary !  how  we  cling  to  thee 

When  sorrows  dark  beset  our  path, 
We  know  thy  mother-heart  will  feel 
The  stings  we  only  half  reveal 
To  eyes  less  kind  than  thine  must  bo, 
The  Motlier — Jesus  hath  I 

O  Queen  of  heavenly  purity ! 

Power  of  God,  with  mortal  blended  : 

The  Holy  Spirit  hath  descended 
To  reveal  thy  dignity ! 

Full  of  grace !  the  angel  hailed  thee 

And  thy  "  Futt"  bath  availed  thee 

Over  angels  bright  to  tower. 

Once  the  Bride  of  God;  that  hour 
When,  (not  as  since  intongues  of  fire, 

But)  sweet,  the  Holy  Spirit  came 
To  recompense  thy  high  desire. 

To  fill  entranced  thy  virgin  frame 
With  God !— tliy  Son !    Thy  Maker ;  King ; 

The  angels  awed  to  ecstasy 
All  reverent  bow,  with  folded  wing; 

Their  homage  pay, — all  silently. 

O  Mary !  mystic,  favored  flower. 

We  bow  before  thy  holy  shrine ; 
We  pondqr  fondly  on  thy  dower, 

Thy  grace,  thy  purity  divine ! 
Nor  wonder  Angels  watch  should  keep 
Areund  thy  portals,  plunged  in  deep 
And  deeper  reverence  as  they  see 

Thy  Maker  to  t!iy  bosom  caught, 
Above,  the  stars  mysteriously 

Proclaim  to  earth  the  wonders  wrought, 
God's  Son,  thy  child !    His  essence — God  I 

O  Mary,  who  is  like  to  thee  ? 
In  heaven's  bright  halls,  or  earth's  dull  sod. 

What  tongue  can  name  thee,  worthily  f 

God's  Mother,  through  HuMiLrrv! 
Heaven  and  Earth  ouce  more  united, 
Joy  restoretl  which  sin  had  blighted 
Now  is  eternal  justice  righted — 

And,  Mary,  Mother,  all  through  thee  I 


20 


AVE     MARIA. 


Thou  bright  one,  singled  out  for  grace 

Mother  of  God,  God's  holy  Bride  I 
Angtls  with  awe  thy  footsteps  trace 

Thy  Maker's  self  is  by  thy  side ; 
Kone  can  see  God  and  live,  of  mortal  race, 

For  sin,  foul  sin  hath  stamped  each  mortal 
frame, 
Save  only  thine !    In  thee,  of  sin  no  trace, 

Therefore  to  thee  the  Lord  of  glory  camel 
Thou  art  the  Mother  of  His  only  Son, 

Mother  of  God  I  O  bright,  O  glorious  one  I 

O  purity !  Thy  soul  could  touch 

God's  all-tremendous  majesty, 
And  live !  still  live  :  thy  love  was  such. 

And  such  thy  deep  humility ; 
Lit  was  thy  beauty  with  unearthly  grace, 
Lovelier  than  Seraph's  beamed  thy  holy  face, 
AVhen  holiness  entranced  thy  raptured  frame 
And  thou  the  willing  Bride  of  God  became. 
Mother  of  God,  thy  suppliants  hear, 
We  bow  before  thee  and  I'evere ; 
O  plead  with  Ilim,  thy  wondrous  Son, 
To  cancel  sin  ;  Ihy  loved  One 
Will  hear  tlicc,  if  thou  pleadest,  for  He  trod 
The  earth  with  thee.  His  Mother;  He,  our  God. 
O  plead  with  Him  to  send  His  Spirit  down, 
That  wc  may  also  that  bright  influence  own 
And  be  thy  children,  too!  from  sin  set  free; 
The  Holy  Ghost  directing  us  through  thee  ; 
Then,  Mother,  will  we  echo  Gabriel's  voice, 
And  bid  triumphant  earth:  rejoice!  rejoice!! 

M.  A.  S. 


The  Christmas  Tree  of  "Ave  Maria," 


Christmas  should  not  be  forgotten  the 
weet  in  which  tlie  great  festival  falls. 
The  whole  month  of  January  is  not  too 
much  to  dedicate  to  the  mystteries  of  that 
glorious  festival,  and  now,  when  the 
Christmas  Trees  in  private  houses,  and 
our  colleges,  academies  and  schools,  are 
stripped  and  the  fruit  distributed,  we  pre- 
sent the  Christmas  Tree  of  Ave  Maeia, 
and  we  hope  that  many  will  find  some 
fruit  thereon  that  will  last  them  during 
the  whole  year.. 

"The  Christmas  tree  for  the  children — 
that  must  not  be  forgotten,"  says  good, 
provident  mamma,  trying  to  enumerate  the 
innumerable  preparations  that  remain  to 
be  made  for  the  festival  of  the  year. 


Oh  !  blessings  on  Christmas,  blessings 
on  the  children.  How  well  the  little  mo- 
nopolists know  that  it  is  their  feast  par 
excellence !  With  what  a  charming  naive- 
te they  appropriate  the  "pretties"  and 
"  goodies,"  and  innocently  putting  aside 
the  rights  of  "  grown-up  people,"  lay  claim 
to  brown,  overgrown  packages,  plethoric 
stockings  and  dazzling  Christmas  trees. 
Blessings  on  the  rapacious  little  tyrants! 
But — was  there  ever  a  monopoly  that  did 
not  suggest  encroachment  and  opposition? 

In  Germany,  we  are  told,  that  genial 
clime  where  the  wonderful  "Tree"  flour- 
ishes most  luxuriantly,  it  is  not  all  given 
up  to  the  children.  Its  sturdy  branches 
contrive  to  hold  a  gift  for  all  that  come. 
Every  member  of  the  household,  from 
"the  old  folks"  with  staff  and  spectacles, 
down  to  Hans  the  groom, — friends,  visit- 
ors and  chance  callers, — each  and  all  have 
a  property  iif  the  "tree."  It  is  a  pretty 
custom,  a  graceful  reminder  of  the  uni- 
versality of  the  gifts  and  the  blessings 
brought  to  earth  by  the  "  Christ-child." 
Thinking  of  it,  a  fancy  comes  to  us  that 
the  Ave  Mabia  should  have  its  Christmas 
Tree,  for  the  large  household  over  which 
it  extends  its  gracious  sway,  and  bring- 
ing from  various  climes  the  treasures  to 
adorn  the  mystic  boughs,  shed  over  all  the 
pure  lustre  and  kindly  glow  of  its  approv- 
ing smile.  So,  begging  for  this  fancy  that 
ecclesiastic  sanction  at  once  so  sacred  and 
dear  to  the  catholic  heart,  and  which,  like 
the  sunshine,  purifies  and  warms  into  life 
and  beauty  whatever  it  touches, — we  be- 
speak the  kind  indulgence  of  visitor  and 
friend  for  a  Christmas  Tree  which,  in  com- 
mon with  most  others,  is  arranged  in  haste 
and  at  the  latest  hour. 

For  the  tree  itself  let  us  take  an  elo- 
quent French  author's 

History  or  Chbistmas. 

Augustus  Caesar,  at  the  summit  of  his 
power,  wished  to  know  how  many  millions 
of  men  crouched  beneath  his  sceptre,  and 
for  this  purpose  ordered  a  general  census 
to  be  taken  of  each  nation  composing  his 
vast    eni])iro.     To   elVect    this,  he    named 


AVE     MARIA. 


81 


twenty-f<Mir  Comniissioncnr,  whom  lie  ftent 
to  every  part  of  the  worhi.  Publius  Sul- 
pitius  Qnirinus,  or,  according  to  the  Gre- 
cian hintorians,  Cyrinus,  was  entrusted 
with  the  government  of  Syria,  of  which 
Judea  then  formed  a  part.  We  arc  in- 
formed by  St.  Luke  that  this  was  the  first 
census  made  in  that  country  for  tlie  Ro- 
mans. The  same  Quirinus,  still  governor 
of  Syria,  was  ordered,  eleven  years  later, 
to  take  a  second  census,  when  the  Empe- 
ror Augustus  made  Judea  a  Roman  j)rov- 
ince,  after  having  expelled  and  banished 
into  Gaul,  King  Archilaus,  the  son  of 
Herod. 

The  decree  published  for  this  general 
census  commanded  every  one,  whether 
rich  or  poor,  potentate  or  peasant,  to  be- 
take himself  to  his  native  town,  in  order 
to  be  registered  in  the  Roman  rolls. 

Now  Joseph  and  Mary,  who  were  both 
of  the  royal  line  of  David,  went  into  the 
city  of  David,  which  was  called  Bethle- 
hem. There  the  Blessed  Virgin  Mary, 
who  had  been  saluted  full  of  grace  by  the 
Archangel  Gabriel,  and  who  passed  among 
men  for  the  spouse  of  Joseph,  after  hav- 
ing in  vain  sought  for  a  lodging  in  an  inn, 
was  obliged  to  take  shelter  in  one  part  of 
a  stone  hut,  formed  out  of  rock,  in  which 
had  been  dug  houses  and  stables.  And  it 
was  in  this  miserable  and  forlorn  place 
that  the  King  of  heaven,  He  to  whom  be- 
long all  honor  and  glory,  was  pleased  to 
be  received  at  His  entrance  into  the  world. 

Whilst  this  prodigy  was  taking  place, 
whilst  a  virgin  was  bringing  forth  a  Sa- 
viour, some  shepherds  who  kept  their 
flocks  in  the  neighborhood  of  Bethlehem, 
in  a  place  called  the  Tower  of  Ader,  sud- 
denly perceived  a  brilliant  splendor  in  the 
midst  of  the  darkness  of  midnight,  and  in 
the  brightness  an  angel  appeared  to  them 
and  said — 

"  Fear  not,  for  behold,  I  bring  you  good 
tidings  of  great  joy,  that  shall  be  to  all 
the  people;  for  this  day  is  born  to  you  in 
the  city  of  David,  a  Saviour  who  is  Christ 
the  Lord;  and  this  shall  be  a  sign  unto 
you:  you  shr.ll  find  the  child  wrapped  in 
swaddling  clothes  and  laid  in  a  manger." 


And  suddenly  there  was  a  multitude  of 
the  heavenly  army  )>raising  God,  and  say- 
ing— 

"Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  and  on 
earth  peace  to  men  of  good  will." 

When  the  miraculous  apparition  was 
over,  and  the  night  had  resumed  its  dark- 
ness, the  shepherds  said  among  them- 
selves, "Let  us  go  down  to  Bethlehem 
and  see  the  word  which  has  been  shown 
to  us:"  and  without  losing  a  moment, 
they  hastened  to  the  stable  to  find  the 
new-born  Infant:  there  they  found  Him 
wrapped  in  swaddling  clothes  and  laid  in 
a  manger,  and  Mary  and  Joseph  were  at 
His  side.  The  shepherds  seeing  that  all 
was  fulfilled  which  had  been  spoken  to 
them  by  the  angol,  recognized  in  this  child 
the  Saviour  promised  to  Israel,  and  they 
began  to  praise  and  glorify  God.  Mary, 
the  virgin  Mother,  heard  all  that  the  shep- 
herds said,  and  hoarded  all  their  words  in 
her  heart. 

Such  is,  in  a  few  words,  the  whole  his- 
tory of  the  feast  of  Christmas.  St.  Luke 
has  been  the  historian  of  the  nativity. 

What  a  series  of  important  events  is 
contained  in  this  short  history  !  *  * 
Augustus  must  know  every  one  who  is 
born,  every  one  who  lives  under  his  sceptre. 
Well,  here  is  a  Child  who  comes  to  in- 
crease the  number  of  his  subjects;  for  this 
Child,  when  He  becomes  a  man,  will  say  : 
"Render  to  Cffisar  the  things  which  are 
Caesar's."  But  this  Child  who  comes  into 
the  world  so  poor  and  so  humble,  who  is 
born  in  a  stable,  who  sleeps  in  a  manger, 
will  overthrow  all  the  false  gods  of  Rome. 
This  Child  is  the  Lord  of  lords,  Emmanuel, 
Son  of  the  Most  High,  King  of  kings  and 
of  emperors.  Master  of  worlds.  And  if 
a  new  Rome  lives  after  ancient  Rome,  it 
is  because  she  has  adored  and  will  adore 
the  Child  announced  to  the  shepherds,  the 
Child  born  in  Bethlehem  at  this  hour. — 
Viscount  Walsh. 

What  a  bewilderment  profusion  of  or- 
naments and  offerings  have  been  hung  on 
this  mystic  tree  by  the  faith  and  love  of 
succeeding  ages.     Here  is  one  of  the  la- 


AVE      MARIA 


test — an  English  "Christmas  Carol,"  so 
full  of  devotional  feeling  and  poetic 
beauty,  that  every  taste  can  find  gratifica- 
tion in  in  its  fervent  stanzas: 

The  Babe  of  Bethlehem's  weloomet 
For  the  poor  and  lowly  come, 
Babe  of  Bethlehem,  welcome  home  ! 

From  Thy  Father's  throne  of  light, 
Girt  with  angels  fair  and  bright, 
Through  the  soft  and  silent  night, 
Downwards  towards  our  darkness  bending. 
Love  and  joy  with  Thee  descending, 
Babe  of  Bethlehem,  welcome  home  I 

Vigils  glad  beside  Thee  keeping, 
Mary  guards  her  treasure  sleeping, 
All  her  soul  in  sweetness  steeping; 
With  a  holy  rapt  amaze, 
Joseph  kneels  bj'  Thee  and  prays, — 
Babe  of  Bethlehem,  welcome  home  I 

Angels  bade  us  come  and  see ; 
Angels  bade  us  worship  Thee ; 
Angela  glad  and  bright  and  free, 
Singing  through  the  starlit  sky, 
"  Glory  be  to  Gotl  on  high !" — 
Babe  of  Bethlehem,  welcome  home ! 

O  the  tiny  hands  and  feet. 
Wrapt  in  swaddling  bands,  unmeet 
For  a  Babe  so  fair  and  sweet ! 
O  the  look  of  love  that  lies 
In  those  grave  and  earnest  eyes ! — 
Babe  of  Bethlehem,  welcome  home ! 

Blest  the  cave  in  which  He  weeps ; 
Blest  the  straw  on  which  He  sleeps  ; 
Blest  the  watch  that  Joseph  keeps ; 
Blest,  thrice  blest,  the  Virgin  breast 
Whence  He  draws  His  food  and  rest  I — 
Babe  of  Bethlehem,  welcome  home  I 

Rose  of  Jesse,  blooming  fair 
In  the  cold  and  wintry  air. 
In  the  stable  bleak  and  bare,— 
Star  of  Jacob,  crowning  grace, 
Gift  of  God  to  Judah's  race. 
Babe  of  Bethlehem,  welcome  home  ! 

Watching  o'er  the  Infant  bright, 
We  would  linger  day  and  night, 
Ever  with  a  new  delight ; 
Tears  of  love  and  sorrow  sweet 
Weeping  at  Thy  sacred  feet, — 
Babe  of  Bethlehem,  welcome  homel 

•        Jesu,  Mary,  let  ua  stay ; 
Joseph,  send  us  not  away ; 
Let  us  linger  here  to-day. 
While  we  with  the  angels  sing : 
Glor>'  to  our  new-born  King ! 
Babe  of  Bethlehem,  welcome  home ! 

C.  M.  C. 


The  midnight  Mass  and  the  thrilling 
beauty  of  the  solemnities  with  which  the 
whole  Church  gives  that  "  welcome"  to 
the  divine  Babe,  was  never,  perhaps,  more 
graphically  described  than  in  "  College 
Christmas"  of  the  gifted  T.  F.  Meagher : 

CUEISTMAS   WITH   THE   JeSUITS. 

There  was  the  midnight  Mass.  In  the 
lofty  sanctuar}', —  the  silver  thuribles 
swinging  up  their  clouds  of  frankincense 
— the  tall  wax-lights  upon  the  altar — the 
massive  lamp  above  the  Communion  rails 
giving  forth  its  sweet  chaste  radiance — 
its  painted  window,  broad  and  towering, 
revealing,  tier  above  tier  the  Apostles  in 
their  purple  robes  of  martyrdom,  and  the 
white  vestments  of  innocence,  and  the  cir- 
cling glories  above  the  meek,  the  stern  or 
majestic  heads — the  great  organ,  far  back 
in  the  dim  aisle,  in  solemn  darkness,  roll- 
ing out  its  noble  notes  of  joy — bright- 
cheeked  children,  in  snowy  surplices,  with 
torches  in  their  hands — gray  heads  bend- 
ing low,  clear  bells  striking,  the  sacred 
Host  uplifted — in  this  calm,  stately  spot, 
in  the  midst  of  these  performances,  sounds, 
and  subdued  splendors,  the  Christmas 
opened. 

With  thrilling  trumpet-tones  the  Adeste 
Fideles — that  magnificent  hymn  with  which 
the  soul  and  genius  of  the  Christian  world 
commemorate  the  birth  in  Bethlehem — 
turned  to  clamorous  joy  the  dumb  solitude 
of  the  night.  With  piety,  with  reverence, 
with  glad  and  loud  thanksgivings  the  day 
was  ushered  in.  With  exultant  music,  in 
the  midst  of  smoking  myrrh,  and  the 
bright  flickering  of  torch  and  lamp,  and 
the  rustling  of  golden-fibred  vestments, 
and  the  soft  undulation  of  snow-white 
robes,  and  the  tinkling  of  bells,  clear  as 
the  mountain  stream  among  the  rocks,  the 
star  of  the  Wise  Men  softened  into  the 
dawn  ing  sunlight. — Personal  HecollectionSy 
at  Stonyhurst. 

In  touching  contrast  with  the  gorgeous 
and  joyful  ceremonials  so  appropriate  to 
the  holy  festival,  comes  the  thought  of 
many  a  scene  during   the   evil  days  the 


AVE      MARIA. 


23 


Church  has  had  to  endure  fn  almost  every 
clime.  An  author,  already  quoted,  thus 
pictures 

TuE  Christmas  of  Confessoks. 

I  remember  a  midnight  Mass  said  in  se- 
cret during  the  persecution  of  '93.  At 
that  time  there  was  no  longer  any  church 
in  which  to  celebrate  the  holy  mysteries; 
a  barn  was  chosen  by  the  villagers  for 
that  purpose.  The  women  decorated  it 
the  night  before.  Coarse  but  very  white 
cloths  were  hung  around ;  a  rustic  table, 
covered  with  snow-white  cloths,  served  for 
the  altar;  branches  of  holly,  with  small 
red  berries,  were  placed  like  nosegays  on 
each  side  of  the  ebony  crucifix,  with  two 
links  in  iron  torches.  This  was  all  the 
pomp  of  those  times  of  persecution. 

The  hour  which  brings  to  mind  the  mi- 
raculous birth  was  come :  each  family  had 
been  waiting  for  it,  assembled  together 
before  the  fire,  relating  ancient  stories, 
and  singing  in  a  low  voice  old  Christmas 
carols.  Alone  and  noiselessly  each  of  the 
faithful  hastened  to  the  barn  which  had 
been  adorned  for  the  feast.  With  what 
piety  did  they  fall  upon  their  knees  before 
this  mean  altar!  The  faith  of  the  shep- 
herds who  heard  the  angels  themselves 
announce  the  birth  of  our  Saviour,  was 
not  more  lively  than  that  of  the  peasants, 
of  these  poor  men  of  good  will,  who  also 
adored  the  son  of  Mary  in  a  stable. 

To  assemble  together  for  prayer  was  at 
that  era  one  of  the  greatest  crimes ;  death 
was  the  punishment,  and  this  thought  gave 
new  vigor  to  their  piety;  it  was  like  the 
primitive  Christians  praying  in  the  cata- 
combs. When  the  priest  appeared  at  the 
altar,  tears  flowed  from  the  eyes  of  all:  the 
priest  was  so  affected  that  he  also  shed 
tears,  which  were  far  from  being  bitter. 
Confessor  of  the  faith,  he  had  been  struck 
and  persecuted  for  his  Saviour;  only  a  few 
days  before  he  had  been  in  the  hands  of 
the  executioners,  and  was  within  a  hair's 
breadth  of  being  put  to  death;  and  now 
behold  him,  leaning  over  the  altar  of  God, 
tlie  God  who  rejoiced  his  youth.  —  Vis- 
count Walsh. 


Of  the  various  local  customs  which  add 
to  the  beauty  and  solemnity  of  Christmas 
celebrations,  one  of  peculiar  interest  has 
been  described  by  a  Protestant  traveller : 

The  Christmas  of  the  IlArPY. 

What  a  pretty  picture  is  this  of  the 
kindly  acts,  the  sweet,  hallowed  emotions 
which  characterize  the  beautiful  festival: 

I  must  have  another  dish  to-day  for 
S.  R.,  who  is  come  to  see  us;  *  *  it  is 
to  the  desolate  that,  it  seems  to  me,  we 
should  pay  attentions.  No  reading  to- 
day. I  have  made  a  cap  for  a  littlo  child, 
which  has  taken  up  all  ray  time.  But, 
provided  one  works,  be  it  with  the  head 
or  fingers,  it  is  all  the  same  in  the  eyes  of 
God,  who  takes  account  of  every  work 
done  in  His  name.  ♦  ♦  ♦  Christmas 
is  come — that  beautiful  fete  which  I  love 
the  most,  which  brings  me  as  much  joy  as 
the  shepherds  of  Bethlehem.  Truly  our 
whole  soul  sings  at  the  coming  of  the 
Lord.  *  *  We  all  went  to  the  mid- 
night Mass,  papa  at  our  head,  on  a  most 
charming  night.  There  is  no  sky  more 
beautiful  than  that  of  midnight;  it  was 
such  that  papa  kept  putting  his  head  out 
of  his  cloak  to  look  at  it.  The  earth  was 
white  with  frost,  but  we  were  not  cold, 
and,  besides,  the  air  around  us  was  wanned 
by  the  lighted  faggots  that  our  servants 
carried  to  light  us.  It  was  charming,  I 
assure  you,  and  I  wish  I  could  have  seen 
you  sliding  along  with  us  to  the  church 
on  the  road,  bordered  with  little  white 
shrubs  as  if  they  were  flowering.  The 
frost  makes  such  pretty  flowers  !  We  saw 
one  wreath  so  pretty  that  we  wanted  to 
make  it  a  bouquet  for  the  Blessed  Sacra- 
ment, but  it  melted  in  our  hands;  all 
flowers  last  so  short  a  time. — Ettgenie  de 
GuerirCs  Journal. 

"  I  wish  I  could  have  seen  you  with  us — 
all  flowers  last  so  short  a  time."  Alas  ! 
to  many  a  heart  such  words  have  a  sad, 
painful  significance.  The  absent  and 
the  dear — the  perished  flowers  of  joy,  of 
hope,  of  love — how  vividly  they  rise  be- 
fore the  mind  of  the  anxious  and  bereaved, 


24r 


AVE      MARJA. 


amid  the  holy  joys  of  the  festive  season  ! 
Even  from  its  loving  watch  beside  the 
Crib,  the  anguished  heart  Mill  turn  away 
to  watch  and  weep  over  its  sorrows.  May 
that  little  Heart,  which  with  its  first  life- 
throb  began  to  love  and  to  suffer,  comfort 
them,  and  enable  them  to  feel  the  sweet 
consolation  with  which  the  angelic  Aloy- 
sius  thus  brightens 

The  Chkistmas  of  the  Sorrowful. 

*  *  *  "May  God  Himself,  through 
the  universal  joy  of  Holy  Church,  and  the 
complacency  with  which  He  regards  the 
temporal  birth  of  His  only  begotten  Son, 
console  you,  illustrious  Signora,  and  fill 
you  with  all  grace,  and  this  through  the 
intercession  of  His  Blessed  Mother,  who, 
as  you,  Signora,  will  Avell  imagine,  expe- 
rienced at  this  time  so  much  suffering  and 
joy  united;  from  the  temporal  poverty 
which  she  endured  in  a  stable,  where  she 
had, no  means  of  protecting  her  new-born 
Son,  Christ  Jesus,  from  the  cold,  or  withal 
to  provide  for  His  most  urgent  needs;  and 
this  we  may  believe  to  have  been  in  lieu 
of  the  pains  of  child-birth,  from  which 
she  was  by  privilege  exempt;  while,  on 
the  other  hand,  she  experienced  a  great 
joy  from  the  visit  and  presence  of  God, 
her  little  Son,  whom  she  beheld  before 
her.  Hence,  as  the  wise  mah  says,  speak- 
ing of  other  women,  that  when  they  bring 
forth  they  are  in  sadness,  but  after  the 
birth  of  their  child  are  so  full  of  joy  that 
they  forget  all  their  past  trouble,  because 
a  man  is  born  into  the  world,  so  it  seems 
to  me  that  the  most  glorious  Virgin,  con- 
sidering the  temporal  needs  of  her  Son, 
had  sorrow  and  trouble  like  one  in  labor 
because  she  could  not  provide  for  Him  ac- 
cording to  her  desire,  nevertheless,  gazing 
at  the  same  Son  of  hers,  she  was  so  filled 
with  consolation  as  toforget  every  trouble, 
not  merely  because  a  man  had  been  born 
to  her,  but  because  a  God-Man  had  been 
born  into  the  world.  And  so  I  venture, 
iu  consideration  of  my  state,  to  give  you 
this  advice,  illustrious  Signora,  to  view 
yourself  in  the  light  of  Mary's  example, 
*     *     and  let  her  example  be  your  sol- 


ace. She  is  our  true  Queen,  from  whose 
example  we  ought  to  derive  far  greater 
comfort  than  were  we  to  behold  any  earthly 
sovereign  thus  situated.  *  *  If,  more- 
over, it  is  a  consolation  to  the  afflicted  to 
have  companions  in  their  sorrow,  what 
greater  solace  can  you  have,  Signora,  than 
the  society  of  the  Virgin  Mother?'' — Letter 
from  St.  Aloysius  Gonzaga  to  /us  Mother^ 
1590. 

Our  "Tree"  would  be  imperfect  with- 
out a  branch  from  the  Eternal  City.  Here 
are  some  extracts  from  a  letter  of  a  young 
American  student,  describing 

A.Christmas  at  Rome. 

We  breakfasted  at  seven,  and  set  off  for 
St.  Peter's.  Streets  all  bustle  and  ac- 
tivity, crowds  of  people  in  holiday  attire, 
every  face  smiling;  the  merry  pealing  of 
bells,  and  the  booming  of  the  cannon  from 
the  castle  of  St,  Angelo,  gave  notice  of 
the  arrival  of  the  sublime  and  joyous  fes- 
tival. Crossing  the  St.  Angelo  bridge, 
even  old  Tiber  seemed  to  have  caught  the 
spirit,  and  dashed  her  yellow  ^aves  play- 
fully. The  piazza  in  front  of  the  church  pre- 
sented a  picturesque  appearance.  Large 
detachments  of  French  and  Italian  sol- 
diery in  brilliant  uniforms — the  Swiss 
Guard  in  their  armor  and  ancient  looking 
collars — the  Noble  Guard  in  their  princely 
uniforms,  dashing  past  on  prancing  charg- 
ers— the  Cardinals  in  their  carriages,  with 
servants  behind  in  livery,  the  retinues  of 
the  princes,  nobles,  ambassadors,  etc.,  all 
tended  to  heighten  the  effect, — besides  an 
occasional  member  of  the  Irish  Brigade 
in  his  green  and  yellow  dress.  All  of  the 
Brigade  have  returned  home  but  twenty- 
five,  so  they  cannot  attend  the  ceremonies 
as  a  body.  *  *  The  interior  of  the 
church  presented  a  picture  indescribable, 
peculiar  to  itself.  *  *  A  wide  passage 
was  kept  open  in  the  nave  for  the  proces- 
sion, a  space  was  kept  near  the  altar  for 
the  ecclesiastic^  and  a  stand  directly  op- 
posite was  occupied  by  Gen.  Guyon  and 
his  suite, princes  and  ambassadors.  *  * 
After  ten  o'clock  the  military  bands  in  the 


A  V  E      MARIA. 


85 


piaz/.a  bo^an  to  |>l:>y,  «lrtim8  rolled,  can- 
non Uooinod,  the  procc-ssion  moved  up  the 
nave,  throuijfh  the  opciiiiv^  nia<le  by  the 
Palatine  Guard  and  the  Franco-Belgian 
Zouaves.  First,  a  line  f>t' the  Swiss  Guards, 
followed  by  the  Mon si  tumors  of  the  papal 
palace  and  other  dignitaries  of  its  house- 
hold; next  the  Canons  of  the  Church,  then 
Bishops  and  Archbishops  in  copes  and 
mitres;  then  princes  and  senators  of  Rome, 
accompanied  by  their  retinues.  After 
these  the  chaplains  of  the  Pope,  bearing 
his  cross  and  tiara;  then  the  Cardinals, 
attired  in  their  scarlet  robes,  followed  by 
their  servants;  then,  last  of  all.  the  Pope, 
borne  aloft  on  a  magniticent  throne,  ar- 
rayed in  his  pontifical  robes,  and  wearing 
a  costly  tiara,  the  g#<it,  it  is  said,  of  the 
Queen  of  Spain.  He  was  surrounded  by 
the  Noble  Guard,  and  gave  his  blessing  to 
the  kneeling  multitude  as  he  passed  slowly 
up  the  aisle.  He  made  a  few  minutes' 
visit  at  the  chapel  of  the  Blessed  Sacra- 
ment, then  went  to  his  throne  to  vest; 
while  the  choir  sang  the  divine  office,  com- 
menced Mass,  and  after  the  Confiteor  re- 
tired to  the  other  throne  to  receive  the 
homage  of  the  Cardinals,  each  in  turn, 
according  to  his  rank.  During  31ass  he 
was  assisted  by  a  Cardinal-deacon,  and  a 
Bishop  as  subdeacon.  ♦  *  ♦  The  low 
and  plaintive  notes  of  the  music  from  the 
dome  died  away  gradually  in  the  deep  re- 
cesses of  the  church,  while  the  Saving 
Host  was  elevated  to  the  four  quarters  of 
the  world.  Save  this  and  the  rattling 
sound  of  the  muskets  as  the  soldiers  low- 
ered them  to  the  floor,  a  death-like  silence 
reigned  throughout  the  vast  and  crowded 
temple.  After  Mass  the  Po])e  gave  his 
benediction  to  all  present. — Rome^  1860. 


TUE    CUKISTMAS    OF    THE    SaINTS. 

Full  of  marvellous,  soul-thrilling  beauty 
are  the  records  of  the  raptures  and  ecsta- 
cies  with  which  perfect  souls  have  been  so 
often  specially  favored  at  Christmas-tide. 
Thus  we  are  told  of  St.  Clare,  that  once 
when  the  great  festival  approached  she 
was  80  dangerously  ill  that  she  could  not 


go  to  the  choir  with  the  other  nuns;  and 
on  Christmas  Eve  they  were  obliged  to 
leave  her  in  her  bed  when  they  went  to 
sing  Matins.  She  was  sorely  troubled  at 
finding  herself  \njable  to  take  her  part  in 
the  holy  office ;  but  her  divine  Spouse,  de- 
siring to  console  her,  caused  her  to  be  mi- 
raculously transported  into  the  church  of 
the  Friars  Minor,  where  the  Saint  heard 
the  whole  office  of  Matins,  and  also  the 
midnight  Mass,  at  which  she  received 
Holy  Communion  ;  after  which  she  was 
taken  back  to  her  bed  in  the  same  manner. 
Her  religious,  having  finished  singing 
their  office  in  the  church  of  St.  Damian, 
returned  to  her  cell,  and  sai<l  to  her,  "O 
dear  mother,  we  have  had  such  a  beautiful 
Feast  to-niglit;  would  to  God  that  you 
had  been  with  us!"  Then  St.  Clare  re- 
plied, "My  dear  daughters,  give  thanks 
to  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  with  me,  for  I 
have  had  even  a  more  beautiful  feast  than 
you;  for  I  have  been  present  in  the  church 
of  my  dear  Father  Francis,  and  there  I 
have  seen  and  heard  the  whole  midnight 
office  and  the  glorious  sound  of  the  organ, 
and  there  I  have  received  Holy  Commu- 
nion. Rejoice  with  me,  therefore;  for  in- 
deed our  Lord  has  given  me  a  great  conso- 
lation."—Z^/e  of  St.  Clare. 

From  the  wonderful  Christmas  visions 
of  St.  Gertrude,  let  us  take  one  or  two  in- 
cidents, particularly  appropriate  to  the 
Ave  Maria: 

At  Matin  *  *  the  Blessed  Virgin  ap- 
peared to  her,  seated  honorably  near  her 
Divine  Son,  and  while  the  Dsscetulit  de 
coelis*  was  chanted,  our  Lord  appeared  to 


*  The  Ilcspousorj',  IV  Lesson,  t  Nocturn,  Matins 
for  Christmas :  "  Desccndit  de  ca?li3  Dcus  verus,  &c. 
The  true  God,  born  of  the  Father,  descended  from 
heaven;  and  enterwl  into  the  Virgin's  womb,  that 
lie  might  appear  visibly  to  us,  clothed  with  the 
flesh  given  to  our  first  parents,  and  come  forth 
through  the  closed  gate  Go<l  and  Man,  Light  and 
Life,  the  Maker  of  the  world."  This  chtnmm  por- 
tnm  (closed  gate)  of  Ezechiel  is  constantly  referred 
by  the  Fathers  to  the  Blessed  Virgin.  «  *  "  The 
closed  gjite  is  the  emblem  of  the  integrity  of  her 
immaculate  flesh,"  says  St.  Augustine  in  his  ser- 
mon on  the  Nativity. — {Life  of  St.  Gertrude). 


3S 


26 


AVE     MARIA 


recall  the  extreme  goodness  which  had 
made  Him  descend  from  the  bosom  of  His 
Father  into  that  of  the  Virgin,  and  He 
looked  so  lovingly  upon  His  Mother  as  to 
move  her  very  heart;  and  by  His  embrace 
He  renewed  all  the  joys  which  she  had 
when  in  the  world  in  His  holy  Humanity. 
At  the  midnight  Mass  *  *  from  the 
Gloria  in  excelsis  to  the  words  Primogeni- 
tus  MaricB  virginis  matris,  she  began  to 
think  that  the  title  of  only  Son  was  more 
suitable  than  that  of  first-born,  because  the 
Immaculate  had  only  brought  forth  this 
Son,  whom  she  merited  to  conceive  by 
the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost;  but  the 
Blessed  Virgin  said  to  her  sweetly :  "  Call 
my  beloved  Jesus  my  first-born,  rather 
than  my  only  begotten,  for  I  brought  Plim 
forth  first;  but  after  Him,  or  rather  by 
Him,  I  have  made  you  His  brethren  and 
my  children,  when  I  adopted  you  as  such 
by  the  maternal  affection  I  have  for  you. 

M.  L.  M. 


Saint  Paula.* 

A  twofold  delusion  prevails  among  per- 
sons outside  the  Church — a  delusion  which 
is  fostered  by  many  ill-instructed  catholics 
within.  1.  That  the  Church  discourages 
the  study  of  Holy  ScripturcNin  those  duly 
qualified  and  disposed.  2.  That  tJie  relig- 
ion of  the  Bible  is  the  religion  of  protest- 
ants.  The  life  of  St.  Paula  lately  pub- 
lished by  the  Abbe  Lagrange,  which  faith- 
fully reproduces  St.  Jerome's  original  life 
of  the  saint,  gives  us  the  real  historical 
truth  with  regard  to  both  these  points,  so 
far  at  least  as  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries 
are  concerned.  We  find  here  what  was 
the  spiritual  reading  recommended  by  so 
enlightened  a  director  of  souls  as  St.  Jer- 
ome, both  to  the  solitaries  of  Bethlehem 
and  the  high-born  ladies  of  Rome,  and  we 
find  also  to  what  result  Scripture-reading 
Jed  in  those  days,— even  to  the  embracing 
of  the  Evangelical  counsels  in  their  very 
literal   and   sublime  simplicity,  in   other 

*  Dublin  Revibw,  Oct.  1868. 


words,  to  that  which  protectants  account 
one  of  the  worst  corruptions  of  popery, — 
the  monastic  life.  We  will  tiy,  by  the 
help  of  M.  Lagrange's  very  interesting 
narrative,  to  follow  the  steps  of  the  most 
attractive  of  all  the  holy  and  heroic 
women  whose  names  are  grouped  round 
that  of  St.  Jerome,  from  the  splendor  of 
her  "Roman  palace  to  her  bare  cell  beside 
the  crib  at  Bethlehem.  St.  Jerome  traces 
that  glorious  pilgrimage  in  a  few  brief 
energetic  words : — "  Noble  by  her  birth, 
far  nobler  by  her  sanctity ;  once  power- 
ful by  her  wealth,  more  glorious  now  by 
the  poverty  of  Christ;  of  the  race  of  the 
Gracchi  and  the  Scipios;  the  heiress  of 
Paulus  Emilius,  whose  name  she  bore; 
the  direct  descendaht  of  Martia  Papyria 
(the  wife  of  the  conqueror  of  Perseus  and 
the  mother  of  Scipio  Africanus) ;  she  pre- 
ferred a  hut  at  JBethlehem  to  the  gilded 
palaces  of  Rome."  Belonging  thus  on 
her  mother's  side  to  the  two  noblest  fam- 
ilies of  Rome,  Paula  traced  her  descent 
through  her  father,  who  was  a  Greek, 
from  the  ancient  kings  of  Mycense.  With 
her  Grecian  blood  she  probably  inherited 
a  tenderness  and  sensibility  which  soft- 
ened the  stern  strength  of  the  Roman 
matron. 

Paula  was  born  at  Rome,  in  the  year 
347,  in  the  reign  of  Constans  and  Con- 
stantius,  the  sons  of  Constantine,  and 
under  the  pontificate  of  Pope  Julius.  Her 
parents  were  christians,  her  mother's  be- 
ing one  of  the  old  senatorial  houses  which 
had  received  the  faith  of  Christ,  yet  she 
numbered  many  pagans  among  her  kin- 
dred, for  the  old  idolatry  still  stood  its 
ground  side  by  side  with  the  worship  of 
the  true  God ;  and  the  inveterate  obsti- 
nacy of  a  large  portion  of  the  patrician 
order  in  upholding  it  is  said  to  have  been 
one  among  the  motives  which  induced 
the  Emperor  Constantine  to  remove  the 
seat  of  empire  to  Byzantium.  The  sword 
of  Alaric  was  soon  to  chastise  the  guilty 
city,  and  the  storm  of  barbarian  invasion 
to  clear  the  air,  now  heavy  with  the  un- 
utterable pollutions  of  paganism,  and  to 
free  her  christian  children  from  the  peril 


AVE     MARIA. 


27 


and  the  contamination  of  its  presence. 
When  Paula  first  opened  her  eyes  upon 
her  native  city,  two  Roines  were  before 
her — pagan  Rome  and  christian  Rome; 
and  pagan  Rome,  yet  untouched  by  the 
hand  of  the  barbarian,  still  had  an  im- 
posing presence.  Her  capitol  was  still 
crowned  with  the  statues  and  temples  of 
the  gods.  On  the  Palatine,  right  oppo- 
site, was  the  dwelling  of  the  Cajsars,  sur- 
rounded by  its  marble  porticos;  at  the 
foot  of  the  two  hills  was  the  old  Forum, 
hedged  in  with  pagan  temples ;  beyond 
was  the  amphitheatre  of  Flavian — the  im- 
mense Coliseum ;  at  the  other  extremity 
the  great  circus  and  the  aqueducts  of 
Nero;  on  the  banks  of  the  Tiber  the 
mausoleum  of  Augustus;  on  all  sides 
temples,  theatres,  baths,  and  porticos. 
All  these  monuments  of  luxury  and  super- 
stition bore  witness  that  paganism  was 
still  rooted  in  the  capital  of  the  empire. 
Yet  its  hour  was  at  hand.  For  three 
hundred  years  the  streets  of  that  proud 
city  had  been  watered  by  the  blood  of  the 
martyrs,  and  the  catacombs  beneath  them 
peopled  with  their  bones,  and  as  day  by 
day  the  sacrifice  of  Redemption  was  of- 
fered over  their  relics,  a  christian  people 
was  formed  in  those  hidden  recesses,  which 
had  now  come  forth  into  the  light  of  day. 
Paganism  still  lingered  like  a  gigantic 
spectre  in  the  morning  dawn  ;  but  it  was 
a  thing  of  the  past.  Its  doom  was  sealed; 
the  Church  had  laid  her  hand  on  the  fu- 
ture, and  was  gaining  ground  daily  on 
the  old  superstition.  The  idol  temples 
•were  empty,  their  sacrifices  despised,  si- 
lence and  solitude  were  in  their  courts, 
while  the  new  worship  was  covering  Rome 
with  splendid  basilicas.  The  imperial  pow- 
er (knowing  not  wherefore)  had  departed 
to  the  East,  leaving  the  palace  of  the 
Caesars  to  the  Successoi's  of  the  Fish- 
erman. 

Step  by  step  with  the  development  of 
the  Church's  exterior  life,  a  still  more 
glorious  work  was  going  on  within.  A 
vigorous  growth  of  sanctity  was  spring- 
ing up  in  the  heart  of  Rome  side  by  side 
with  the  deepening  corruption  which  was 


accelerating  the  fall  of  the  doomed  em- 
pire. The  blood  of  the  martyrs,  which 
had  been  the  seed  of  Christianity,  was 
now  to  be  the  seed  of  saints,  like  that 
blessed  child  who  was  born  at  this  event- 
ful time  to  be  by  her  sanctity  one  of  the 
wonders  of  her  age. 

We  have  but  scanty  details  of  the  child- 
hood of  St.  Paula.  A  few  touches  from 
the  hand  of  St.  Jerome  gives  us  to  under- 
stand that  she  was  trained  under  the  two- 
fold influence  of  the  old  Roman  spirit,  as 
it  still  survived  in  a  few  of  the  ancient 
patrician  families,  and  of  the  vigorous 
christian  life  then  fresh  in  the  faithful 
households  of  the  primitive  Church. 
With  this  high  moral  and  religious  train- 
ing was  combined  a  mental  cultivation 
which  was  also  traditional  in  the  noble 
families  of  Rome.  To  the  study  of  Holy 
Scripture  she  added  that  of  the  great 
classical  writers  of  Greece  and  Rome. 
With  the  language  of  both  countries  she 
was,  from  the  circumstances  of  her  birth, 
equally  familiar. 

At  about  the  age  of  fifteen  Paula  was 
married  to  a  young  Greek,  named  Toxo- 
tius,  descended  on  the  mother's  side  from 
the  ancient  Julian  family,  which  traced 
its  pedigree  to  ^neas.  At  the  time  of 
his  marriage  it  would  seem  that  Toxotius 
was  not  yet  a  christian;  but  from  the 
harmony  and  happiness  of  their  ynion  we 
may  believe  that  the  unbelieving  htisband 
was  sanctified  by  the  wife^  and  brought  by 
her  example  and  her  prayers  into  the  fold 
of  Christ.  From  the  position  of  her  hus- 
band's family  and  her  own,  Paula  natu- 
rally took  her  place  upon  her  marriage  in 
the  very  first  rank  of  Roman  society,  and 
must  thus  have  been  necessarily  thrown 
into  the  company  of  many  of  those  proud, 
luxurious  heathen  women  whose  degen- 
eracy was  rapidly  hastening  the  fall  of 
Rome.  It  w^ould  be  difiicult  for  the  imag- 
ination even  of  the  most  worldly  woman 
in  a  christian  land  to  realize  what  was 
then  the  daily  life  of  the  lady  of  the  pagan 
consular  and  senatorial  families,  with  her 
five  hundred  miserable  slaves,  all  devoted 
to  her  personal  service  and  to  the  care  of 


28 


AVE     MARIA. 


her  ape,  her  pnrrot,  or  her  lapdoj;;.  her 
earrintjs  worth  some  £100,000;  lier  dwarfs, 
prcss'jd  out  of  human  shape  for  the  grati- 
fication of  her  morbid  caprice;  lier  pet 
philosopher,  degraded  in  mind  as  the  poor 
stunt'ed  dwarf  in  body ;  her  fierce  unwom- 
anly delight. in  the  circus  and  the  gladi- 
torial  shows. 

Such  was  the  deep  degradation  to  which 
the  heathen  virtues  of  the  mother  of  the 
Gracchi  had  sunk  in  the  persons  of  her 
daughters,  and  such  the  atmosphere  which 
surrounded  the  christian  maidens  and 
matrons  who  by  mixed  marriages  or  other 
causes  were  exposed  to  its  baneful  influ- 
ence. The  young  wife  of  Toxotius  passed 
through  it  unscathed.  The  name  of  Paula 
was  proverbial  in  Rome  as  an  example  of 
the  Roman  virtues  of  a  better  age,  and  of 
the  christian  graces  which  raised  them 
to  the  supernatural  order.  She  was  dis- 
tinguished, not  only  by  her  spotless  puri- 
ty in  the  midst  of  the  prevalent  corrup- 
tion, but  by  a  tender  charity  and  deep 
humility  unknown  and  unimagined  by 
the  most  virtuous  matrons  of  old  Rome. 
Yet  from  the  circumstances  of  her  posi- 
tion she  was  compelled  in  some  measure 
to  conform  herself  to  the  way  of  life  com- 
mon to  women  of  her  rank.  We  learn 
from  St.  Jerome  that,  like  other  patrician 
ladies,  she  was  carried  by  her  slaves  in  a 
gilded  litter  through  the  streets  of  Rome; 
that  she  would  have  feared  to  set  her  foot 
to  the  giound  lest  it  should  be  defiled  by 
dust;  that  her  silken  robes  were  a  weight 
almost  too  heavy  for  her  delicate  form; 
and  that  she  shrank  from  the  sunbeams 
which  struggled  through  the  thick  cur- 
tains of  her  litter.  In  after-days  she 
often  reproached  herself  with  the  use  of 
rouge,  so  common  among  women  of  her 
rank,  and  with  the  hours  wasted  in  the 
indulgence  of  the  bath,  so  indispensable 
a  luxury  of  Ronuin  life. 

The  married  life  of  Toxotius  and  Paula 
seems  to  have  flowed  on  Avithout  a  sor- 
row. Four  fair  children — Blesilla,  Paul- 
ina, Eustochium,  and  Rufina — gladdened 
their  home,  and,  last  of  all,  the  birth  of  a 
son,    named    after   his    father,    Toxotius, 


filled  up  the  measure  of  their  content. 
It  was  Paula's  last  earthly  joy.  Just  as 
the  cup  of  domestic  happiness  had  been 
filled  to  the  brim,  it  was  dashed  from  her 
hand,  and  the  joyful  wife  and  mother  was 
a  widow  and  desolate.  Paula's  grief  for 
her  husband's  loss  was  so  overwhelmina 
as  to  endanger  her  life.  When  she  arose 
from  what  seemed  to  be  her  death-bed,  it 
it  was  to  seek  and  to  find  the  healing  of 
her  broken  heart  in  a  life  devoted  to  God 
alone. 

The  brightness  and  glare  of  the  world 
had  become  intolerable  to  her,  and  she 
sought  shelter  with  one  who  had  long  ago 
M'ith<lrawn  from  its  heat  and  its  burden, 
and  in  her  early  youth  and  the  first  days 
of  childless  widowhood  had  converted  her 
palace  on  the  Aventine  into  a  place  of 
penance,  where  she  lived  alone  with  her 
pious  mother  in  the  practice  of  prayer, 
austerities,  and  good  works  of  every  kind, 
leaving  it  only  to  visit  the  churches  and 
the  poor.  Marcella — such  was  the  name 
of  this  noble  lady — had  sat  at  the  feet  of 
St.  Athanasius  when,  in  his  exile  from 
Alexandria,  he  sought  refuge  in  Rome, 
and  found  a  home  under  the  roof  of  her 
mother  Albina.  The  child  listened  to 
the  marvels  which  the  holy  confessor  re- 
lated to  his  pious  hostess  and  her  friends, 
of  the  saints  among  whom  he  had  so- 
journed for  seven  years  in  the  Thebaid. 
She  heard  of  St.  Anthony,  St.  Ililarion, 
St.  Pacomius,  and  of  the  holy  women  who 
rivalled  them  in  their  austerities  and  their 
gift  of  contemplation. 

The  seed  thus  casually  scattered  on  the 
heart  of  a  child  was  to  bring  forth  an 
abundant  harvest,  for  Marcella  was  the 
instrument  chosen  by  God  to  introduce 
the  monastic  life  into  the  West.  From  the 
earliest  days  of  Christianity  virgins  con- 
secrated to  God  had  devoted  themselves 
to  a  life  of  prayer  and  almsdeeds  under 
their  parents'  roof;  but  the  palace  on  the 
Aventine,  whither  Paula  turned  for  coun- 
sel and  consolation  under  the  heavy  bur- 
den of  her  sorrow,  was  the  first  place  of 
retreat  in  which  a  number  of  these  holy 
women  were  associated   together  to  labor 


AVE     MARIA 


20 


in  comnmnity  after  the  attaiumfnt  of  per-  I 
fection.     Murt'clla  was  tho  first  to  adopt  ; 
the  monastic  habit  as  well  as  the  moiiah-  | 
tic  life,  laying  aside  all  the  splendor  of  j 
her  worldly  apparel  for  the  coarse  serge  I 
worn  by   the  solitaries  in  the  desert,  and  j 
relinquishing   the  use  even  of  the  signet- 
ring,  which  was  held  to  be  the  indispensa- 
ble  appendage,  of  a   noble  Roman   lady. 
A  storm   of  indignation   from  jtugaji  and 
half-hearted  christians  greeted  the  novel- 
ties and  indiscretions  of  this  noble-hearted 
wom^in.      But  she  went  on  he^  way  un- 
heeding, steadily  carrying  the  banner  of 
the  Cross  in   the  front  rank  of  the  great 
revival   of  christian    love    and    christian 
mortification  which  received  direction  aiul 
encouragement   from    the  holy  Pope  Da- 
masus.     She  had  many  illustrious  compan- 
ions both  within   and    without   her   own 
community,  none  more  distinguished  than 
Melania,  a  daughter,  like  herself,  of  the 
old  house  of  Mureellus.     Melania,  at  the 
age  of  twenty-two,  had  seen  her  husband 
and  her  two  children  carried  on  the  same 
day  to  the  grave.     She  accepted  the  stroke 
as   an   invitation   to   give   her   lonely  life 
wholly   to   God,  and  resolving  to  follow 
the  example  of  Marcella,  she   left  her  only 
remaining   boy   in    safe   guardianship   at 
Rome,  and  went  on  a  pilgrimage  to  the 
East,   where   St.    Athanasius   was    living 
still.     At  Alexandria  she   caught  a  last 
glimpse   of    that    expiring    light   of    the 
Church,    and    then    went   on   her  way   to 
Jerusalem,  where   she  built  herself  a  con- 
vent on  Mount  Olivet,   in  which,   at  the 
time  of  Paula^s  widowhood,  she  was  liv- 
ing a  saintly  and  devoted  life. 

[to   be    CONTINimD.] 


OrdinatloBS. 


At  the  Provixcial  Seminary,  Troy, 
N.  Y. — On  Saturday,  the  19th  ult.,  the 
usual  semi-annual  ordinations  were  held 
at  tho  Provincial  Seminary  of  Troy.  The 
otHcialing  prelate   was   the  Rt.  Rev.  J.  J. 


Williams,  Bishop  of  Boston.    The  follow- 
ing gentlemen  received  orders: — 

The  dignity  of  the  most  Holy  Priest- 
hood was  conferred  on  Revs.  Thomas  J. 
Dueey,  Edward  A.  Dunphy,  Bartholomew 
(ialligan,  Francis  Martin,  for  the  Archdi- 
ocese of  Xew  York;  Michael  T.  Glen, 
Florence  McCarthy,  John  Mc  Par  land,  Pat- 
rick O'Sullivan,  for  the  Diocese  of  Albany ; 
John  M.  Kremmen,  John  Ryan,  for  the 
Diocese  of  Boston;  John  J.  Furlong,  for 
the  Diocese  of  Hartford.  Were  ordained 
Deacons:  Revs.  Henry  P.  Baxter,  Martin 
J.  Brophy,  Michael  Callaghan,  John  C. 
Henry,  John  P.  3IcClancy,  John  McNamee, 
Thomas  F.  Walsh,  for  the  Archdiocese  of 
New  Y^'ork ;  David  J,  Brown,  John  Ken- 
nedy, Patrick  J.  !Muldoon,  Michael  C. 
Mullany,  John  Scully,  Martin  C.  Stanton, 
for  the  Diocese  of  Albany ;  Joseph  H. 
Gallagher,  Daniel  S.  Healy,  Michael  F. 
Higgins,  Lawrence  J.  Morris,  James  E. 
O'Brien,  Michael  Walsh,  for  the  Diocese 
of  Boston;  John  C.  McLaughlin,  for  the 
Diocese  of  Bui'lington  ;  Patrick  F.  Good- 
win, Joseph  B.  Reid,  Stephen  P.  ShellVey, 
for  the  Diocese  of  Hartford;  Owen  M. 
Conlan,  John  J.  Duddy,  Eugene  ^L  O'Cal- 
laghan.  Diocese  of  Portland.  Were  or- 
dained Subdeacons:  Revs.  William  F. 
Brady,  Laurence  H.  Kennedy,  James  Mul- 
len, Archdiocese  of  N.  York;  Damase  Ar- 
chambeault,  John  Craven,  Moise  Fournier, 
James  J.  Kelly,  James  Luddcn,  Charles 
C.  McCarthy,  William  B.  Nyhan,  James 
Scanlon,  John  W^alsh,  Diocese  of  Albany, 
Recapitulation:  Priests,  U  ;  Deacons, 
26  ;  Subdeacons,  12.     Total,  49. 

At  Mount  St.  Mary's  of  the  West. — 
Most  Rev.  Archbishop  Purcell  conferred 
the  holy  order  of  priesthood  on  Revs, 
Henry  Keffnieyer  and  Thomas  Byrne. 

In  St.  Joseph's  CATUEnRAi.,  Buffalo. — 
On  the  18th  ult.,  Rt.  Rev.  Stephen  V. 
Ryan,  D.  D.,  ordained  deacons  Revs.  John 
ODonohue,  Diocese  of  Buffalo;  James  C. 
Muri»hy,  Diocese  of  Boston;  Michael  E. 
Barry,  do. ;  Peter  L.Connelly,  Diocese  of 
Newark;  Patrick  F.  Cantwell,  do. ;  Peter 
I.  Sheridan,  Diocese  of  Erie. 


30 


AVE     MARIA 


On  Saturday  the  19th  ult.,  in  the  Semi- 
nary of  Our  Lady  of  Angels,  Revs.  I. 
Bloomer,  Philip  R.  Kinsella  and  John 
O'Donohue,  all  of  Buffalo  Diocese,  were 
promoted  to  the  priesthood. 

Saturday  18th,  at  New  York,  Most  Rev. 
Archbishop  McOlosky  conferred  the  order 
of  Deacon  upon  Messrs.  Spencer  and 
Lake,  of  the  Congregation  of  St.  Paul 
the  Apostle. 

Pittsburgh. — On  the  19th  ult..  Right 
Rev.  Bishop  Domenec  conferred  the  holy 
order  of  Priesthood  on  Revs.  Albert  Wa- 
ters, S.  Bowen,  Pius  Preiser,  O.  S.  B., 
Aloysius  Germaine,  O.  S.  B.,  and  Denis 
Stolz,  O.  S.  B. 

ScRANTON. — The  Right  Rev.  Bishop 
conferred  the  order  of  Subdeaconship  on 
Messrs.  N.  J.  McManus,  M.  J.  O'Brien, 
T.  C.  O'Hara  and  G.  B.  McMurray,  in 
Ember-week. 


<2phildren's  Department 


Religious  Reception  and  Profession. — 
At  St.  Joseph's  convent,  St.  Paul,  Min., 
on  the  8th  ult.,  the  following  young  la- 
dies received  the  religious  habit.  Very 
Rev.  Father  Ravoux  officiating  : 

Miss  Rebecca  Egan  (Sister  M.  of  the 
Sacred  Heart) ;  Miss  Anna  Dorsay,  (Sis- 
ter M.  of  the  Immaculate) ;  Miss  Mary 
Cuddy,  (Sister  Mary  Thomas  of  Jesus) ; 

[iss  Eliza  Ireland,  (Sister   Saint  John). 

The  following  novices  made  their  vows  : 
Sister  Mary  Angela  (Alice  Hippies),  Sis- 
ter Mary  Celestia  (Mary  Prendergast),  Sis- 
ter Mary  Helena  (Honoi-a  Higgins),  Sis- 
ter Saint.  Teresa  (Mary  Meagher). 


Deaths. — Died,  on  Thursday,  5th  ult., 
at  the  convent  of  the  Sisters  of  Alercy, 
Washington,  D.  C,  Sister  M.  Francis  de 
Sales  (Hoover),  of  heart  disease  and  con- 
sumption, in  the  26th  year  of  her  age  and 
the  sixth  of  her  religious  profession. 

Died,  December  last,  at  his  residence 
in  Montreal,  Mr.  Patrick  Lynch.  The 
prayers  and  Masses  said  for  deceased  Life 
Subscribers  have  been  said  for  the  repose 
of  his  soul.     Jiequiescant  itij^ace. 


ANGELA. 


A  Legend  of  the  Blessed  Tlrgin. 


[concluded.] 

"Your  life,  Angela!"  he  cried  in  hor- 
ror; "your  life!  Ah,  dear  Angela,  you 
dare  not  fling  away  your  life,  even  for  such 
an  end," 

"  I  should  not  fling  it  away,  dear  Al- 
brecht,"  she  said,  half  smiling;  "I  should 
merely  offer  it  at  the  altar  foot  in  ex- 
change for  that  which  is  infinitely  more 
precious;  it  is  a  poor  sacrifice  for  so  great 
a  boon." 

"  But,  Angela,"  he  answered,  and  his 
voice  trembled  and  grew  husky  with  emo- 
tion ;  "  my  love,  my  darling,  your  life  is 
my  life;  how  could  I  live  if  you  were 
gone?" 

The  girl  looked  up  wondering  in  his 
face.  He  paused  a  moment,  and  then  un- 
able to  restrain  himself  he  poured  out  with 
passionate  earnestness  the  story  of  his 
love. 

She  seemed  puzzled  and  almost  fright- 
ened by  his  vehemence;  the  words  he  had 
spoken  met  with  no  responsive  echo  in  her 
heart;  childlike  as  she  was  she  knew  noth- 
ing of  a  deep  and  burning  love  like  this. 

"Dear  Albrecht,"  she  said  at  last,  "you 
are  very  good  to  love  me  so  much  and  feel 
so  grieved  that  I  should  die;  but  we  shall 
meet  I  hope  in  heaven ;  you  and  I,  and 
my  father.  Albrecht,  dear  brother,  do 
not  look  so  sad — I  am  not  going  to  die 
this  moment."  They  had  reached  the 
church  by  this  time;  the  bells  were  al- 
ready ringing,  and  Angela  as  she  entered 
offered  him  the  holy  water  with  a  bright 
smile.  He  never  forgot  that  smile;  long 
years  after,  when  he  was  an  old  man  and 
his  hair  was  gray,  its  memory  lingered 
like  a  sunbeam  in  his  heart. 

He  turned  away;  he  was  too  strongly 
acritated  to  oro  and  kneel  down  among  the 


AVE      MARIA. 


31 


quiet  crowd  within  the  church.  Walking 
quickly  through  the  streets  till  he  found 
himself  outside  the  town,  he  hurried  to  the 
sea  shore,  where  he  sought  out  a  lonely 
nook  among  the  rocks.  It  was  an  old  fa- 
vorite h:iunt;  he  had  often  come  here  to 
listen  to  the  waves  of  the  Mediterranean 
as  they  broke  at  his  feet,  and  build  up 
pleasant  day-dreams  of  love  and  future 
fame;  now,  a  mysterious  voice  was  call- 
ing at  his  heart  that  all  these  visions 
were,  gone  forever;  that  a  darkness  had 
fallen  on  his  life  even  as  the  clouds  of 
night  were  creeping  over  the  Sicilian  hills, 
swallowing  up  the  golden  sunset  in  their 
blackness. 

The  Benediction  was  soon  over,  but  An- 
gela remained  praying  in  the  silent 
church;  the  daylight  faded  away,  and  long 
after  the  the  twilight  had  deepened  into 
night,  the  glimmer  of  the  sanctuary  lamp 
shone  down  upon  her  white  dress  as  she 
remained  prostrate  before  the  altar  ofier- 
ing  up  the  sacrifice  of  her  young  life. 

Meanwhile,  how  fares  it  with  Leonardo? 
Has  he  painted  the  face  which  is  to  im- 
mortalize him? — a  face  worthy  to  repre- 
sent ller  whose  seed  shall  crnsh  the  ser- 
pent's head.  Let  us  look  into  his  studio 
and  see. 

Nay  ►surely  this  looks  not  like  it;  his 
brows  are  knit,  his  hands  clenched,  his 
cheek  burns  with  a  dark  red  flush,  and  he 
paces  the  room  with  strides.  Once  more 
he  seizes  the  pencil  and  begins  to  draw — 
his  hand  shakes — he  tries  to  steady  it — 
his  eye  blazes  and  again  he  tries — it  is 
of  no  use — away !  he  dashes  the  crayon 
against  the  tiled  floor  and  flings  himself 
upon  the  cushion  of  his  sofa.  "My  God !" 
he  groans;  "I  am  ruined,  baflled,  lost. 
Oh  !  cursed  be  the  weak  fingers  that  will 
not  second  the  busy,  bursting  brain !  I 
am  ruined,  ruined.  I  cannot  paint  the 
face  that  haunts  me  !" 

The  Italian  summer  night  went  quickly 
over.  Angela  when  she  rose  from  her 
knees  could  see  the  first  streaks  of  dawn 
stealing  along  the  sky.  By  the  time  she 
reached  her  father's  house  it  was  almost 
daylight.     As  she  crept  softly  up  stairs, 


eo  as  not  to  awaken  any  one,  a  sound 
which  seemed  to  come  from  the  studio 
made  her  start  and  pause.  Another!  She 
pushed  open  the  door  which  stood  ajar, 
and  there,  stretched  upon  the  sofa,  lay 
her  father,  his  hands  clasped  above  his 
head,  and  his  cheeks  burning  with  a  fever- 
ish glow,  moaning  and  musing  to  himself, 
"  Lost, — ruined  ;  I  cannot  do  it !" 

Angela  raised  bis  head,  and  laid  it 
gently  down  upon  a  cool,  soft  pillow;  she 
bathed  his  temples  with  fresh  iced  water, 
and  gradually  the  moaning  ceased,  and  he 
seemed  to  fall  into  a  gentle  and  refresh- 
ing sleep.  She  guessed  what  was  the  mat- 
ter; the  blotted  face  of  the  picture  and  the 
broken  pencil  told  their  own  tale.  An- 
gela was  tired,  with  her  long  watching  in 
the  church ;  she  brought  a  low  seat  and 
placed  it  beside  her  father's  couch,  so  that 
she  could  rest  her  head  against  his  pil- 
lows and  hold  his  hand  iii  hers.  Sweet 
fancies  floated  tjirough  her  brain  as  she 
sat  and  watched  the  early  sunshine  flood- 
ing its  glory  through  the  eastern  sky. 
Down  through  the  morning  clouds  there 
seemed  to  beam  upon  her  the  vision  of  a 
face  so  perfectly  lovely,  so  beaming  with 
heavenly  sweetness,  that  she  drooped  her 
dazzled  eyes  beneath  the  radiance  of  its 
beauty.  "  Stella  Matutinay"  she  whis- 
pered, "ora  pro  nobis.'''' 

"Angela,  Angela!"  said  a  sweet  voice 
at  her  side;  she  trembled.  "Fear  not" 
said  the  voice,  "but  look  upon  me."  She 
looked  and  saw  a  tall  figure  with  droop- 
ing wings  and  a  flowing  robe,  white  and 
dazzling,  like  the  snowy  clouds  which 
sometimes  hover  along  the  edge  of  the 
blue  midday  sky. 

"I  am  thy  guardian  spirit,  Angela,"  he 
said,  in  soft  clear  tones;  "from  the  hour 
when  God  first  gave  thee  to  my  care, 
a  little,  feeble,  motherless  infant,  each 
day  I  have  guided  thy  footsteps,  every 
night  thou  hast  slept  beneath  the  shadow 
of  my  folded  wings;  therefore,  fear  not, 
but  answer  me.  Couldst  thou,  my  child, 
picture  to  thyself  the  face  of  Her  who 
was  conceived  without  sin;  whose  beauty 
clothed  with  the  sun  thy  proud  father  in 


3Q 


AVE      MARIA 


the  conceit  of  bis  heart  thought  to  give 
to  the  world  upon  yonder  canvas?" 

"Oh  yes!"  wliispered  Angehi,  "I  have 
seen  in  my  dreams  a  face  so  gloriously 
lovely,  that  it  could  only  belong  to  the 
Mother  of  my  God;  would  I  had  the  skill 
to  paint  it !" 

"  Take  up  the  pencil,"  said  the  angel, 
pointing  to  her  father's  broken  brush, 
"  and  try ;  I  myself  will  guide  thy  hand. 
It  is  only  the  pure  of  heart,  such  as  thou, 
my  child,  who  are  worthy  to  paint  the 
beauty  of  the  Queen  of  Heaven.  He," 
pointing  to  her  father,  "cannot  picture 
it  even  to  his  own  soul;  for  Lucifer,  the 
spirit  of  pride  himself,  is  ever  by  his  side, 
and  his  dusky  shadow  hides  from  thy 
father's  sight  the  vision  that  thy  pure 
eyes  saw  painted  in  the  morning  sky." 
'  Angela  did  as  the  angel  told  her;  she 
lifted  the  crayon,  and,  taking  her  place 
before  the  picture,  she  began  to  trace  with 
timid  hand  the  outline jof  that  wondrous 
face  which  was  engraven  upon  her  heart. 

Then  the  angel-  approached  her  father, 
and  laid  his  hand  gently  upon  his  eyelids. 

Leonartlo  gradually  awoke  from  a  calm 
refreshing  sleep;  the  pain  was  gone  from 
his  temples,  and  his  hot  head  was  cool  as 
ever  again.  It  seoiied  to  him  that  the 
room  was  full  of  l>right  light,  and  the  air 
was  like  the  breath  of  flowers. 

His  first  glance  was  towards  his  picture; 
Angela  stood  before  it,  painting, — the  an- 
gel by  her  side,  his  hand  guiding  hers, 
and  the  shining  light  of  his  countenance 
illumining  her  figure  and  playing  like  a 
halo  round  her  golden  head. 

Leonardo  gazed  in  wonderment;  a  veil 
seemed  torn  from  his  eyes;  he  looked 
into  his  own  heart  and  saw  its  blackness, 
and  he  knew  why  it  was  his  pure  Angela 
was  chosen  in  his  place.  He  bent  his 
head,  and  wept  long  and  bitterly ;  but  he 
owned  the  justice  of  the  sentence,  and 
prayed  to  be  forgiven.  Again  the  angel 
approached  and  touched  his  eyelids,  and 
Leonardo  fell  back  upon  his  pillows  once 
more  asleep. 

When  he  again  awoke,. it  was  evening. 
Angela  was  on  her  low  seat  beside   the 


couch,  her  face  laid  close  to  his,  and  his 
hand  pressed  between  her  own.  She  lay 
so  still,  and  looked  so  pale,  that  Leonardo 
was  frightened.  "Angela,  my  daughter, 
awake,"  he  said. 

"  Oh  I  I  have  dreamed,"  she  answered, 
"  so  sweet  a  dream,  dear  father.  I  thought 
I  was  painting  the  face  of  your  great  pic- 
ture, and  that  my  guardian  angel  guided 
my  hand.  The  face  I  painted  was  so  lovely, 
that  its  beauty  sunk  deep  into  my  heart; 
and  when  I  had  finished,  it  seemed  to 
smile  upon  me,  and  beckon  me  away.  Oh ! 
let  me  sleep  again,  that  I  may  see  it  once 
more."  She  fell  back  fainting,  and  Leon- 
ardo bent  over  her  in  an  agony  of  fear. 

Gently  he  lifted  up  his  darling,  and  bore 
her  to  her  own  little  room,  where  he  laid 
her  on  the  white  curtained  bed,  calling 
her  by  every  endearing  name,  and  tenderly 
chafing  her  hands  and  feet,  which  were 
fast  becoming  cold.  But  in  vain — never 
again  were  the  blue  eyes  to  open  upon  the 
light  of  this  lower  world.  Angela's  sacri- 
fice had  been  accepted — the  angel  had 
surrendered  his  charge  at  the  foot  of  the 
throne.     She  was  dead. 

Leonardo  called  wildly  upon  Albrecht, 
who  came  silently  to  the  bedside,  his  heart 
too  truly  warning  him  what  he  was  to  see 
there.  All  through  the  night,  in  hie  lonely 
watch  among  the  rocks,  that  lifeless  form 
with  its  closed  eyelids  and  drooping  limbs 
had  been  before  him. 

The  picture  was  placed  in  the  church 
upon  the  day  of  her  funeral,  and  while 
they  chauntet^  the  requiem  for  her  soul, 
Leonardo  made  a  solemn  vow  that  he 
wouhl  torever  give  up  all  thoughts  of  that 
earthly  fame  for  the  love  of  which  he  had 
well  nigh  lost  his  immortal  soul. 

Albrecht  lived  to  earn  a  world-wide 
renown  as  a  painter,  but  no  woman  ever 
called  him  husband.  Angela  had  been  to 
him  the  type  of  all  that  was  good  and 
beautiful,  and  ho  never  sought  another. 
She  lived  again  in  the  pictures  he  has  left 
behind  him.  He  excelled  in  painting 
lovely  faces,  young,  saintly  hea^s,  encir- 
cled by  golden  light — all  of  which  bear 
more  or  less   likeness  to  his   lost  An<zela. 


AVE   MARIA. 

^  (tixXMk  journal  (Ifvatcd  ta  the  jftonor  of  the  ^U$^tA  K\x%x% 


Vol.  V. 


KOTRE  DAME,  INDIANA,  JANUARY  16,  1869. 


Ho.  3. 


The  Feast  of  the  Holy  Name. 


Beautiful  name !  "  and  he  shall  be 
called  Jesus,  for  he  shall  save  his  people 
from  their  sins:"  it  was  an  angel  spoke 
the  blessed  words.  Beautiful  name ! 
Hearts  trembling  with  guilt  utter  it  and 
imbibe  hope  !  Beautiful  n.ime  !  Mothers 
sorrowing  for  their  wayward  oft'spring 
utter  it,  and  confide  their  sorrows  to  the 
keeping  of  the  Saviour.  Beautiful  name  ! 
Hearts  overladen  with  grief  at  the  sins  of 
the  world  of  which  they  are  unwilling 
witnesses,  utter  it,  and  lay  down  their 
griefs,  consoled,  at  the  feet  of  Jesus  I 
Beautiful  name — yet  terrible  !  for  it  puts 
the  devil  to  flight:  anguished  and  pierced 
with  pain  unutterable,  the  name  of  Jesus 
makes  him  writhe  with  thrice  intensity ! 
O  name  that  pierces  hearts  and  penetrates 
all  things, — bringing  bliss  to  the  good, 
and  evil  intensified  to  those  who  are  not 
thine  !  O  name,  of  Jesus,  every  knee  must 
bow  before  that  utterance !  O  sacred 
name,  what  tongue  is  pure  enough  to 
dare  to  utter  it?  and  yet  what  heart  shall 
dare  refrain  from  utterance!  O  happy 
year,  that  thus  begins  with  Thee  ! 

And  yet,  shall  we  not  remember  that 
when  the  name  was  given  to  the  Infant 
Saviour,  He  began  to  shed   His  blood? 

Shall  we  forget  that  to  mark  Thee  as  a 
Son  of  Abraham  Thou  didst  submit  to  a 
painful  operation,  didst  shed  Thy  blood 
to  indicate  that  the  child  of  God  must 
obtain  victory  over  the  evil  passions  of 
his  fallen  nature,  and  submit  to  pain  to 
reduce  the  empire  of  animalism?  O  Thou 
that  earnest  to  fuljil  all  Justice,  "  to  be 


for  us  an  example,"  "  to  restore  to  us  the 
freedom  of  the  sons  of  God,"  what  offer- 
ing shall  we  bring  Thee  on  this  day?  In- 
carnate God  !  Thou  earnest  to  suffer  where 
all  men  are  seeking  to  enjoy !  Thou  earnest 
to  fulfil  all  justice,  where  justice  can 
scarce  be  found !  Thou  earnest  to  glad 
Thy  Mother's  eyes,  to  make  the  saints 
sing  for  joy,  and  Thy  first  work  is  sub- 
mission, submission  in  full  consciousness; 
not  like  infants,  involuntary,  but  full, 
free,  conscious  submission  to  a  law  or- 
dained for  sinners,  to  bring  them  near  to 
God !  Thou  hadst  adopted  humanity  I  and 
all  humanity  didst  Thou  then  present  be- 
fore the  Eternal  Father  !  All,  all  in  Thee  ! 
Not  the  Jew  only,  but  the  Gentile  race, 
numerous  in  color,  form  and  fashioning  ! 
Thy  blood  offered  itself  for  all  I  to  blot 
out  sin ! 

Coming  upon  this  subject,  I  was  re- 
minded of  a  pretty  legend  by  Nectan, 
chronicled  in  the  Lamp,  for  the  Epiphany, 
1859.  It  so  completely  illustrates  the 
idea  of  all  nations  coming  to  adore  the 
new-born  God  th.at  I  transcribe  it  ver- 
batim, hoping  it  will  impart  to  others  the 
pleasure  it  afforded  myself. 

A  Cabol  of  the  Thsks  Kings. 

It  is  chronicled  in  an  old  Armenian 
myth,  that  the  wise  men  of  the  East  were 
none  other  than  the  three  sons  of  Noe, 
and  that  they  were  rained  from  the  dead 
to  represent,  and  to  do  homage  for  all 
mankind,  in  the  cave  at  Bethlehem ! 
Other  legends  are  also  told:  one,  that 
these  patriarch  princes  of  the  Flood  did 
not  even  die,  but  were  rapt  away  in 
Enoch's  paradise,  and  were  thence  recalled 
to  begin  the  solemn  gesture  of  the  world- 


34r 


AVE      MARIA 


wide  worship  to  the  King-born  Child  1 
Another  saying  holds,  that  when  their 
days  were  full,  these  arkite  fathers  fell 
asleep,  and  were  laid  at  rest  in  a  cavern 
of  Ararat,  until  Messias  was  born,  and 
that  then  an  angel  aroused  them  from 
the  slumber  of  ages,  to  bow  down  and  to 
hail  as  the  heralds  of  many  nations,  the 
awful  Child.  Be  this  as  it  may, — whether 
the  mystic  magi  were  Sem,  Cham,  and 
Japhet,  in  their  first  or  second  existence, 
under  their  own  names,  or  those  of  other 
men ;  or,  whether  they  were  three  long- 
descended  and  royal  sages  from  the  loins 
or  the  land  of  Balaam, — one  thing  has 
been  delivered  to  me  for  very  record. 
The  supernatural  shape  of  clustering 
orbs,  which  was  embodied  suddenly  from 
surrounding  light,  and  framed  to  be  the 
beacon  of  that  westward  way,  was  and  is 
the  Southern  Cross  !  It  was  not  a  solitary 
signal  fire,  but  a  miraculous  constella- 
tion ;  a  pentacle  of  stars  whereof  two 
shone  for  the  transome  and  three  for  the 
stock,  and  which  went  above  and  before 
the  travellers,  day  and  night,  radiantly, 
until  it  came  and  stood  over  where  the 
young  Child  lay !  And  then  ?  What 
then  ?  Must  those  faithful  orbs  dissolve 
and  die?  Shall  the  gleaming  trophy  fall? 
Nay,  not  so.  When  it  had  fulfilled  the 
piety  of  its  first-born  office,  it  arose,  and 
amid  the  vassalage  of  every  stellar  and 
material  law,  it  moved,  onward  and  on, 
obedient  to  the  impulse  of  God  the  Trin- 
ity, journeying  evermore  towards  the 
the  south,  until  that  starry  image  arrived 
in  the  predestined  sphere  of  future  and 
perpetual  abode,  to  bend,  as  to  this  day 
it  bends,  above  the  peaceful  sea,  in  ever- 
lasting memorial  of  the  Child  Jesus: — 
the  Southern  cross ! 

• 

It  is  not  presumed  for  a  moment  that 
the  legend  here  presented  is  of  historic 
value;  but  as  portraying  the  idea  preva- 
lent in  ancient  times  of  all  nations  bow- 
ing before  the  incarnate  God-babe,  and 


the  reverence  of  those  days  for  every- 
thing, even  for  the  luminous  vapors  that 
formed  the  guiding  star,  we  deem  it  will 
be  acceptable  to  our  readers.  It  is  an 
axiom  of  material  philosophy  that  no  atom 
is  ever  lost,  but  only  changes  its  combina- 
tion. In  the  days  of  faith  there  was  a 
strong  feeling  also  that  whatever  had 
touched  God  and  the  saints  spiritually, 
or  served  them  to  spread  the  "  luminous 
doctrine,"  imbibed  a  holiness,  and  became 
invested  with  a  certain  power  of  recalling 
the  idea  of  God;  and  thence  arose  the 
veneration  of  relics  and  the  beautiful 
legends  which  adorn  those  ages  with 
poetry. 


The  Madonna  and  Child. 


Within  an  ancient  chapel, 

Where  the  green  ivy  clung 
Upon  the  gray  and  crumbling  walls, 

A  painting  once  was  hung. 

'Twas  but  an  old,  old  picture, 
From  which  looked  kindly  down 

A  Mother  fair  and  youthful, 
Wreathed  with  a  starry  crown, 

Who  in  her  arms  so  tender, 

A  smiling  Child  did  bear — 
And  'neath  them,  on  the  pavement, 

Knelt  many  wrapped  in  prayer. 

Beyond  this  dark  old  chapel 
Lay  street  and  garden  grand, 

In  which  were  famous  statues 
From  many  a  far-off  land. 

Some  high  on  noble  column 
Caught  the  first  glimpse  of  day, 

And  some  in  shady  grottoes 
Saw  but  the  bright  noon's  raj. 

And  oft  the  world-admiring 

Those  wondrous  works  had  praised ; 
But  ne'er  one  heart  to  heaven 

Had  all  their  beauties  raised — 

For  only  earthly  heroes, 
Carved  from  the  rarest  stone, 

Slept  in  the  evening  shadows. 
Or  in  the  moonlight  shone ; 

Whilst  to  the  ones  who  gathered 

Around  that  humble  shrine, 
Of  Jesus  and  His  Motiicr 

Spoke  every  tinted  line. 

Gracie  L. 


AVE     MARIA. 


35 


Saint  Paula.* 


At  Marcella's  earnest  desire,  Pa\ila  left 
with  her  for  a  time  her  youngest  daugh- 
ter, Eustochium,  who,  even  at  that  early 
ftgc»  gave  promise  of  the  extraordinary 
Banctity  with  which  she  now  shines  in  the 
narrative  of  St.  Jerome  as  a  twin  star 
with  her  holy  mother,  and  returned  with 
her  other  children  to  her  home,  to  begin 
that  life  of  austere  abnegation  which  led 
her  step  by  step  nearer  and  nearer  to  God. 
Never  was  change  more  complete.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  death  of  the  husband 
whom  she  had  so  intensely  loved  had  been 
the  breaking  of  a  bond  which  had  kept  her 
at  a  distance  from  God.  She  spent  many 
hours  daily,  and  sometimes  whole  nights, 
in  prayer,  and  meditated  continually  on 
Holy  Scripture.  She  never  again  admitted 
a  man,  even  were  he  priest  or  bishop,  to 
her  table.  She  slept  upon  a  hair  cloth 
stretched  on  the  bare  ground,  and  watered 
that  hard  couch  with  tears  shed  over  the 
self-indulgence  of  her  past  days  of  worldly 
happiness.  All  her  vast  revenues  melted 
away  in  alms  to  relieve  the  exceeding 
misery  which  lay  hid  under  the  luxurious 
prodigality  and  wanton  waste  of  the  im- 
perial city. 

Two  years  had  passed  away  since  the 
great  crisis  of  her  life  when  the  dwellers 
in  the  little  cenacle  of  the  Aventine,  and 
the  other  holy  women  whose  hearts  were 
one  with  theirs,  heard  with  joy  that  Poi^e 
Damasus  had  summoned  a  council  to  btj 
held  in  Rome,  for  the  year  382,  to  extin- 
guish the  schism  of  Antioch,  and  to  rem- 
edy other^vils  consequent  on  the  heresy 
of  Arius.  Amongst  the  illustrious  Eastern 
prelates  who  obeyed  the  summons  were 
Paulinus,  whose  election  to  the  see  of 
Antioch  was  the  main  subject  in  question, 
and  St.  Epiphanius,  the  Bishop  of  Sala- 
mis,  the  disciple  of  St.  Ililarion,  perhaps 
the  greatest  name  in  the  East  since  the 
death  of  Athanasius.  St.  Paula  asked 
and  obtained  of  Pope  Damasus  the  privi- 

*  DuBLUi  Review,  Oct  1868. 


lege  of  receiving  St.  Epiphanius  as  her 
guest.  It  may  be  imagined  with  what  in- 
tense emotion  these  pious  women  of  Rome 
M'Clcomed  those  holy  bishops,  who  had 
been  engaged  in  all  the  recent  conflicts  of 
the  Church,  who  came  from  that  mysteri- 
ous East  where  the  Sun  of  Justice  had 
risen,  who  had  seen  Jerusalem  and  the 
holy  places,  who  had  known  those  Fathers 
of  the  Desert  whose  renown  then  filled 
the  world,  and  had  lived  under  their  dis- 
cipline. The  immediate  occasion  of  the 
visit  of  these  illustrious  strangers  was 
not  in  the  designs  of  Divine  Providence 
the  greatest  work  which  they  were  to  ac- 
complish. We  know  little  of  the  acts  of 
that  council,  but  the  Church  on  earth  and 
in  heaven  bears  unfading  tokens  of  the 
impression  which  they  left  upon  souls 
already  prepared  by  the  Holy  Ghost  to 
respond  to  the  fresh  impulse  heavenwards 
imparted  by  these  great  servants  of  Christ. 
What  St.  Athanasius  had  done  for  Marcella 
St.  Epiphanius  did  for  Paula.  Hardly 
could  she  be  restrained  from  leaving  home, 
children,  and  friends,  and  setting  forth, 
like  Melania,  on  a  pilgrimage  to  the  holy 
places  and  the  holy  recluses  whose  life 
had  been  so  vividly  set  before  her.  But 
she  had  duties  to  her  children  which  still 
detained  her  in  Rome.  The  holy  purpose 
lay  deep  in  her  heart,  to  be  hereafter 
brought  to  maturity  under  the  influence 
of  another  illustrious  saint,  who  had  ac- 
companied the  holy  bishops  to  Rome  and 
remained  there  behind  them. 

*'  St.  Jerome,"  says  the  Abbe  Lagrange, 
"is  assuredly,  by  his  genius,  his  elo- 
quence, his  heart,  his  character,  the  vicis- 
situdes of  his  stormy  life,  his  tenderness 
of  soul,  his  moving  accents  full  of  all  the 
tears  and  sorrows  of  his  time,  if  not  the 
greatest,  at  least  the  most  original  and 
attractive  figure  of  the  fourth  century.  I 
had  almost  said  the  most  modern  man  of 
ancient  times.  He  appears  amidst  St. 
Hilary  of  Poitiers,  the  profound  theolo- 
gian ;  St.  Ambrose,  the  sweet  orator ;  St. 
Augustine,  the  great  philosopher  and  wri- 
ter; St.  Paulinus  of  Nola,  the  charming 
letter-writer  and  elegant  christian  poet, 


36 


AVE      MARIA 


with  a  physiognomy  all  his  own,  bearing 
the  tints  of  the  desert  and  the  Eastern 
sky  upon  the  stern,  masculine,  austere, 
and  ardent  countenance  of  a  child  of  the 
West ;  loaded  with  sacred  and  profound 
erudition  ;  the  unwearied  champion  of  the 
Church  in  all  her  struggles ;  the  old  lion 
of  christian  polemics ;  the  man  whose 
mighty  voice  shook  the  old  world,  and 
whose  pathetic  lamentations  over  the  fall 
of  Rome  touch  our  hearts  even  to  this 
day."  He  was  all  this;  "he  was,  more- 
over," continues  M.  Lagrange,  "  a  director 
of  souls,  the  first  of  that  line  of  great 
spiritual  directors  which  passes  on  from 
him  to  St.  Bernard,  from  St.  Bernard  to 
St.  Francis  of  Sales,  from  St.  Francis  of 
Sales  to  Bossuet  and  Fenelon — and  so  on 
to  our  own  day." 

It  is  in  this  latter  character  that  we 
have  to  do  with  him  here.  Jerome  had 
first  visited  Rome  about  the  time  of  the 
death  of  the  apostate  Julian ;  his  young 
and  ardent  imagination,  full  of  enthusiasm 
for  pagan  learning.  There  he  came  un- 
der the  power  of  a  mightier  teaching; 
and,  while  still  in  the  flower  of  his  youth, 
he  received  holy  baptism  and  devoted  his 
genius  and  his  profane  erudition  to  the 
service  of  the  faith.  Then  followed  years 
of  wandering  in  search  of  fresh  stores 
of  learning,  and  long  solitary  days  and 
nights  of  watching  and  prayer  in  the  des- 
ert, spent  in  the  study  of  Holy  Scripture. 
It  was  now  two  years  since  he  had  left 
the  desert.  He  had  received  priest's  or- 
ders from  Paulinus  at  Antioch,  and  was 
stndying  theology  at  Alexandria,  under 
St.  Gregory  Nazianzen,  when  St.  Epipha- 
nius  summoned  him  to  accompany  him  to 
Rome,  which  he  had  never  forgotten,  and 
where  his  memory  was  still  fresh  in  men's 
minds,  though  he  had  left  it  in  his  twenty- 
first,  and  was  now  in  his  fortieth  year. 
On  the  departure  of  the  two  bishops  in 
whose  company  he  came,  Saint  Damasus 
prevailed  with  Jerome  to  remain  at  Rome 
in  order  to  aid  him  in  his  struggle  with  the 
relaxation  of  christian  morals  in  the  heart 
of  the  decaying  pagan  civilization,  and  es- 
pecially to  be  his  assistant  in  the  study  of 


the  sacred  volume.  A  strong  and  tender 
friendship  sprang  up  over  the  pages  of 
Holy  Scripture,  between  the  fonuer  soli- 
tary of  the  desert  and  the  venerable  Pon- 
tiff, who,  though  numbering  well  nigh 
eighty  years,  sat  at  his  feet  in  the  humble 
posture  of  a  learner.  St.  Jerome  was  soon 
to  have  other  pupils.  At  the  earnest  de- 
sire of  Marcella,  backed  by  the  entreaties 
of  the  holy  Pope,  he  so  far  overcame  his 
repugnance  to  converse  with  women  as  to 
consent  to  give  expositions  of  Holy  Scrip- 
ture at  her  house  on  the  Aventine.  These 
instructions  were  eagerly  attended  by  all 
the  devout  society  of  Rome — the  little 
band  of  holy  women  who  were  the  glory 
of  the  Church  and  of  the  patrician  order, 
the  most  learned  and  devout  among  the 
priests,  and  not  a  few  pious  laymen,  who, 
like -Jerome's  fast  friend  and  old  fellow- 
student,  the  Senator  Pammachius,  de- 
sired to  study  their  religion  at  the  foun- 
tain head.  Jerome  read  the  sacred  text 
and  then  commented  upon  it,  bringing  out 
first  the  literal  sense  and  mingling  there- 
with its  allegorical  and  spiritual  interpre- 
tation. He  showed  the  relation  between 
the  Old  and  New  Testaments,  and  un- 
veiled the  Person  of  Jesus  Christ  hidden 
under  the  letter  of  the  old.  His  audi- 
ence listened  with  rapt  attention.  His 
deep  learning,  his  vivid  and  impetuous 
eloquence,  his  very  exterior  aspect,  his 
monkish  habit,  his  austere  countenance, 
emaciated  by  penance  and  embrowned  by 
eastern  suns,  his  glance  of  fire,  his  rapid 
gesticulation,  and  even  the  somewhat 
rough  accents  of  his  voice,  arising  partly, 
as  he  said  himself,  from  his  habit  of  hiss- 
in//  the  Uebreio  syllables,  partly  to  his  Dal- 
matian birth — all  combined  to  give  him 
a  strange  fascination  and  an  extraordi- 
nary influence  over  the  minds  of  his  learned 
and  cultivated  audience.  Nor  was  he  less 
deeply  impressed  by  his  new  disciples,  and 
especially  by  the  rare  intelligence  and 
spiritual  perfection  of  these  Roman  la- 
dies. He  saw  at  once  what  a  field  was 
opened  to  his  labors,  and  it  is  a  beautiful 
and  touching  sight  to  see  the  austere 
monk,  the  lonely  dweller    in  the  desert, 


AVE      MARIA 


37 


devote  all  the  power  of  his  gcniuR,  and 
the  marvellous  stores  of  his  learning,  to 
the  cultivation  of  those  chosen  flowers  of 
grace.  Of  all  that  holy  company,  the  one 
in  whom  he  distinguished  the  most  emi- 
nent intellectual  and  spiritual  gifts,  was 
Paula.  She  found  in  the  Divine  fountain 
of  Holy  Scripture  the  fulness  of  the  con- 
solation, strength,  and  light  of  which  her 
soul  had  need,  and,  under  the  teaching  of 
Jerome,  she  found  therein  depths  of  which 
she  had  not  even  suspected  the  existence. 
Nor  was  she  satisfied  until  she  could  read 
the  Sacred  Books  in  their  own  original 
language. 

"•'  I  am  about  to  say,"  writes  Saint  Je- 
rome, "a  thing  that  will  seem  incredible, 
but  w^hich  is,  nevertheless,  most  true;  the 
Hebrew  language,  which  to  learn  the  little 
I  know  of  it,  cost  me  so  much  labor  in  my 
youth,  and  at  which  I  labor  diligently 
still  every  day,  lest,  were  I  to  forsake  it, 
it  should  forsake  me — that  Hebrew  tongue 
Paula  undertook  to  learn,  and  learnt  it  so 
perfectly  that  she  always  recited  the 
Psalms  in  Hebrew,  and  spoke  that  lan- 
guage fluently,  as  did  Eustoehium  also." 

It  was  this  Psalter,  the  unchanging 
prayer-book  of  the  Church,  which  Jerome 
first  placed  in  the  hands  of  Paula,  Mar- 
cella,  and  his  other  holy  disciples,  making 
them  study  it  deeply,  and  explaining  to 
them,  not  only  its  literal,  but  its  spiritual 
prophetical  sense.  He  introduced  the 
chanting  of  the  Psalms  into  the  monas- 
tery of  the  Aventine,  probably  according 
to  the  antiphonal  method  observed  in  the 
East,  and  which  St.  Ambrose  was  soon  to 
bring  into  the  Church  of  Milan.  Seven 
times  a  day  did  the  virgins  and  widows 
of  the  Aventine  pay  to  God  their  tribute 
of  praise — a  practice  which  afterwards  be- 
came the  rule  of  religious  houses.  St. 
Jerome  also  introduced  into  the  infant 
communities  of  Rome  the  repeated  use  of 
the  Alleluia,  which  the  Roman  Church 
had  hitherto  reserved  for  Easter-tide.  The 
households  of  Paula  and  Marcella  arose 
to  that  joyous  cry  to  begin  the  day  by  the 
chanting  of  Psalms. 

St.  Jerome  did  not   leave  his  pupils  to 


wander  at  will  through  the  vast  field  of 
Holy  Scripture.  In  a  letter  written  some 
years  later,  to  Laeta,  the  daughter-in-law 
of  St.  Paula,  on  the  education  of  her  child, 
he  thus  traces  the  course  she  was  to  fol- 
low:— "Let  her  first,"  he  says,  "learn  the 
Psalter,  and  be  instructed  by  the  Proverbs 
of  Solomon  to  lead  a  holy  life.  From  Ec- 
clesiastes  let  her  learn  to  trample  upon 
worldly  things.  Let  the  book  of  Job  set 
before  her  the  example  of  patience  and 
virtue.  From  thence,  let  her  pass  on  to 
the  Holy  Gospels,  which  should  never  be 
out  of  her  hands.  Let  her  heart  and  will 
be  imbued  with  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles 
and  the  Epistles.  When  her  mind  has  been 
enriched  with  these  sacred  treasures,  she 
may  read  the  Prophets  and  the  historical 
books  of  the  Old  Testament."  And  it 
was  not  until  she  should  be  able  to  under- 
stand it  spiritually  that  she  was  to  read 
the  Canticle  of  Canticles. 

The  study  of  Holy  Scripture  was  in  the 
mind  of  St.  Jerome  but  a  means  to  an  end. 
That  end  was  to  build  up  the  edifice  of 
christian  perfection  amid  the  ruins  of 
pagan  superstition.  He  had  all  the  quali- 
fications of  a  wise  master-builder.  The 
passionate  love  of  souls  which  ever  marks 
the  true  priest,  a  clear  sight  of  the  end 
before  him  and  of  the  capabilities  of  those 
whom  he  was  to  bring  to  its  attainment, 
strong  good  sense,  which  went  right  on- 
ward to  its  aim,  and  a  masterly  strength 
of  character  which  carried  others  on  with 
him.  "  His  was,"  says  M.  L.agrange, 
"  one  of  those  natures  which  God  has 
made  strong  in  order  that  other  souls  may 
be  able  to  lean  upon  them."  None  needed 
such  direction  more  than  St.  Paula,  and 
none  responded  to  it  more  nobly.  The 
more  nearly  ho  observed  her,  the  greater 
became  his  love,  and  even  reverence,  for 
one  whose  soul  was  even  more  beautiful 
than  her  mind.  Of  all  the  souls  whom 
God  had  entrusted  to  his  care,  none  was 
in  such  full  sympathy  and  perfect  harmony 
with  his  own  great  and  heroic  spirit  as  that 
gentle  woman's  nature,  which  was  en- 
dowed with  courage  that  feared  nothing 
in  the  service  of  God. 


IF 


38 


AVE     MARIA 


The  direction  of  which  we  find  the  record 
in  the  numerous  letters  of  the  Saint 
addressed  to  the  band  of  holy  women 
who  were  formed  by  it,  was  doubtless  an 
exceptional  direction;  it  was  to  lead 
christian  virgins  and  christian  widows  to 
the  perfection  of  their  state,  to  the  highest 
degree  of  the  love  of  God  in  the  utmost 
purity  of  soul,  and  to  the  austere  life 
which  is  both  its  condition  and  its  conse- 
quence. He  did  not  overlook  the  sanctity 
of  family  life,  as  is  manifest  from  many 
beautiful  passages  in  his  writings;  but 
he  writes  especially  for  those  to  whom  our 
Lord  had  shown  a  more  excellent  icay. 
For  these  he  would  hear  of  no  half-meas- 
ures. For  the  luxurious  table  and  soft 
couch  of  the  tenderly-nurtured  patrician 
ladies  he  substituted  severe  abstinence 
and  frequent  fasting.  They  lay  upon  sack- 
cloth on  the  bare  ground,  and  spent  the 
hours  once  squandered  in  self-pleasing,  in 
spinning,  and  in  other  works  of  female 
industry,  and  in  humble  and  assiduous  at- 
tendance on  tlie  sick  and  suftering  poor. 

Paula  had  a  still  nearer  and  pressing 
duty  to  perform  in  the  training  of  her 
children;  and  here  also  she  was  aided  and 
guided  by  St.  Jerome,  who  entered  into 
all  her  maternal  sorrows,  cares  and  joys, 
with  a  vivid  sympathy  marvellous  to  see 
in  one  burdened  with  such  a  multiplicity 
of  absorbing  occupations.  He  was  not 
only  her  spiritual  director,  but,  in  the 
deepest  and  fullest  sense  of  the  word,  her 
friend.  His  loving  notices  of  her  chil- 
dren bring  the  family  group  before  us  with 
a  freshness  undimmed  by  the  lapse  of 
ages,  which  have  passed  away  since  he 
laid  aside  his  unfinished  commentaries  on 
Ecclesiastes,  begun  at  the  prayer  of  Bles- 
silla,  which  her  death  left  him  no  heart 
to  finish.  His  letter  to  the  inconsolable 
mother  is  a  moving  example  of  the  charity 
which  weeps  with  those  that  weep — the 
only  consolation  which  makes  its  way  to  a 
broken  heart.  "  ToUis  hie  liber,''''  he  writes, 
'^^fletibiis  acribitur.'''' 

The  short  life  of  Blessilla,  her  ©Idest 
and  perhaps  best-loved  child,  is  one  of  the 
most  touching  episodes  in   the  history  of 


St.  Paula.  When  St.  Jerome  first  began 
his  instructions  on  the  Aventine,  Blessilla 
was  in  the  full  pride  of  her  beauty  and  her 
genius,  richly  endowed  with  every  per- 
sonal, intellectual,  and  worldly  gift,  and 
with  a  buoyancy  of  spirit  which  it  seemed 
even  sorrow  could  not  long  repress ;  for 
at  the  age  of  seventdfen,  after  a  union  of 
only  seven  months,  she  had  lost  a  hus- 
band in  all  respects  worthy  of  her  love. 
The  religious  principles  which  her  saintly 
mother  had  labored  to  infuse  into  the 
heart  of  this  richly-gifted  but  wilful  and 
self-indulgent  young  woman,  were  stifled 
under  the  weight  of  worldly  vanities  by 
which  they  were  overlaid.  She  prayed 
little,  and  passed  hours  before  her  mirror, 
after  the  approved  fashion  of  the  day, 
while  her  slaves  were  busied  in  arrang- 
ing her  hair  and  giving  fresh  color  to 
her  cheeks.  In  short,  beautiful,  gifted 
amiable  and  attractive,  Blessilla  was  a 
thorough  fine  lady,  and  the  only  thing  to 
be  done  for  her  was  to  convert  her.  Saint 
Jerome  did  his  best;  but  a  stronger  than 
he  was  needed  to  drive  the  demon  of 
worldliness  from  his  stronghold.  In  the 
year  384  Blessilla  was  laid  prostrate  by  a 
virulent  attack  of  fever,  in  which  she  lay 
for  a  whole  month  between  life  and  death. 
"  Where,  then,"  says  St.  Jerome,  "  was 
the  help  of  her  worldly  friends?  What 
could  they  do  to  save  her  from  death,  who 
had  hindered  her  from  living  for  Jesus 
Christ?  But  He  came  to  her,  and  sigh- 
ing in  spirit.  He  said  to  her — Bleaailla, 
come  forth!  And  she  arose,  and  knew  to 
whom  she  owed  her  life." 

[to  bk  coxtixukd.] 


It  is  not  every  day  that  an  opportunity 
is  offered  to  make  great  gains,  but  every 
day  one  can  earn  or  save  a  penny  or  a 
farthing;  and  by  managing  the  small 
profits,  in  the  long  run  people  often  be- 
come very  rich.  We  would  lay  up  im- 
mense spiritual  riches,  and  a  large  treas- 
ure in  heaven,  were  we  diligent  in  em- 
ploying in  the  service  of  the  holy  love  of 
God  all  the  minute  opportunities  which 
offer  themselves  at  every  moment. 


— ,'J1'P1 W.ll'J'g.' 


AVE     MARIA 


39 


First  Sermon  of  Pere  IlyAcinthc. 

(OorrwpoDd«noe  of  th«  I^ondon  Wsmr  EioUTii.) 

Pakis,  Wednesday. 

On  the  first  Sunday  of  Advent  Pere 
Plyaciuthe  commenced  at  Notre  Dame  his 
series  of  sermons  on  "The  Church  in  the 
Widest  Sense  of  the  Word."  The  sub- 
ject he  has  chosen  this  year  springs  natu- 
rally from  those  treated  by  him  since 
the  commencement  of  his  conference*  five 
years  ago.  In  this  year's  first  sermon  he 
began  by  affirming  the  existence  of  the  God 
of  the  Bible — a  God  who  lives  and  sees. 
Then,  leaving  metaphysics  out  of  the 
question,  he  showed  that  in  these  days  the 
most  important  point  to  be  proved  is  not 
the  personal  existence  of  God,  but  the 
personal  sovereignty  of  God  over  individ- 
ual and  social  man.  The  great  question 
of  our  time  is  JRegnum  Dei — The  Kingdom 
of  God.  Who  shall  reign,  God  or  man  ? 
Is  it  to  be  man,  emancipated  from  God 
by  sceptical  science,  by  an  independent 
moral  philosophy,  by  a  society  separated 
from  every  kind  of  religious  or  Church  in- 
fluence? Or  is  it  to  be  God,  finding  in 
man,  not  a  slave,  but  a  subject,  or,  rather, 
a  fion — a  partner  of  His  empire  and  a 
sharer  of  His  throne?  This  question, 
which  has  been  discussed  in  every  age 
since  that  of  the  patriarchs,  is  now  more 
discussed  than  ever- 
Above  one's  family  and  country,  there 
is  a  higher  and  wider  society  into  which 
man  enters,  not  to  be  absorbed  in  it,  but 
to  become  greater.  This  society  is  placed 
above  all  others  to  help  them  to  realize 
the  Kingdom  of  God.  It  is  the  direct 
and  sovereign  instrument  of  this  kingdom. 
This  society  is  the  Church. 

After  this  exordium  the  orator  an- 
nounces the  usual  three  points  he  is  about 
to  treat:  the  first  will  discuss  what  the 
theologians  call  the  body  of  the  Church  ; 
the  second  the  soul  of  the  Church.  From 
the  consideration  of  these  two  points  will 
result  a  complete  notion  of  the  Church  in 
the  widest   sense  of  the  word.     We    arc 


not,  as  is  too  often  done,  to  confound  the 
Church  with  the  clergy,  nor  even  with  the 
Episcopacy  and  Papacy.  It  is  always  a 
grave  error  to  absorb  a  society  in  its  gov- 
ernment. The  family  is  not  the  father,  and 
the  State  is  not  the  prince.  But  this  con- 
fusion would  nowhere  be  so  fatal  as  with 
regard  to  the  Church,  where  the  govern- 
ment is  a  ministry,  not  a  domination.  The 
Church  is  a  fraternity  in  its  divinely  con- 
stituted hierarchy :  "  Vos  autem  nolit«  vo- 
cari  Rabbi,  unns  est  enim  magister  ves- 
ter,  omnes  autem  vos  fratres  estis."  The 
Church,  says  Scripture,  in  another  place,  is 
a  body,  the  body  of  Christ.  Life  is  not 
only  in  the  head,  but  also  in  the  members. 
Let  laymen,  then,  not  cease  to  take  an  in- 
terest in  the  Church,  as  in  an  institution 
which  is  foreign  to  them.  They  are  them- 
selves the  Church  with  the  heirarchy.  In 
the  present  age  this  society  of  the  faithful 
with  the  pastors  has  a  determinate  form  and 
a  name  of  its  own — the  Roman  Catholic 
Church.  But  though  of  divine  origin  and 
definitive  institution,  this  form  is  not  the 
only  one  the  Church  has  put  on.  Before 
being  catholic  in  the  sense  in  which  she  is 
now  she  was  patriarchal  and  mosaic.  It 
is  most  important  therefore,  since  we  are 
considering  the  Church  under  its  most 
universal  aspect,  not  to  confound  it  with 
any  of  its  forms,  not  even  with  its  present 
form,  the  most  perfect  and  henceforward 
the  most  immutable  of  all.  The  univer- 
sal Church  does  not  date  from  the  apos- 
tles, but  from  the  patriarchs.  Her  cradle 
was  not  in  the  Coenacuium,  but  in  Eden. 
The  Church,  therefore,  considered  as  a 
visible  society,  may  be  defined:  The  uni- 
versal society  in  which  the  true  God  has 
always  been  known  and  adored,  and  the 
unique  Mediator,  Jesus  Christ,  promised 
or  given,  expected  or  possessed — "  Unus 
Deus  Mediator  Dei  et  hominum  homo 
Christus  Jesus." 

The  preacher  next  considers  the  three 
elements,  a  universal  society,  a  living  God, 
and  an  only  Mediator,  in  a  reversed  order. 
He  opposes  to  the  gross  system  of  Poly- 
theism one  only  God  known  and  adored 
on  earth;  to  the  cold  and  unconscious  ab- 


4:0 


AVEMARIA 


straction  of  the  philosophers,  he  opposes 
a  personal  God,  Deus  vivxis,  and  shatters 
completely  the  system  of  the  Positivists 
who  make  human  religion  begin  with 
Fetishism,  conduct  it  slowly  through  Po- 
lytheism to  Monotheism,  and  land  it  in 
positive  philosophy.  The  orator  termina- 
ted this  part  of  his  sermon  by  a  touching 
lowvcntr  of  his  youth,  which  needs  to  be 
related  by  himself  to  preserve  its  beauty. 
In  the  second  part  he  deals  with  the  fol- 
lowing objection: — "Your  edifice  is  very 
long,  since  it  reaches  to  the  beginning  of 
the  world,  but  is  out  of  all  pi'oportion  by 
its  narrowness."  After  admitting  the  ex- 
tremely small  number  of  catholics,  and 
even  christians  in  the  world  in  compar- 
ison with  the  whole  population  of  the 
globe,  P6re  Hyacinthe  does  not  content 
himself  by  hoping  in  the  future;  but  feel- 
ing that  the  objection  requires  another 
and  a  better  answer,  ho  seeks  this  answer, 
and  finds  it  in  what  thcyologians  call  the 
Boul  of  the  Church.  This  is  the  principal 
point  of  his  teaching,  and  deserves  the 
attention  of  all  christians,  particularly  of 
protestants,  by  whom  it  is  so  little  under- 
stood. 

Just  as  a  great  number  of  those  who 
share  in  the  profession  of  its  faith,  the 
practice  of  its  worship,  the  action  of  its 
government,  belong  only  to  the  body  of 
the  Ch\irch — that  is  to  say,  are  bound  to  it 
only  by  external  bands ;  so  it  may  happen 
that  a  great  number  of  those  who  have 
not  that  form  of  life  may,  nevertheless, 
really  belong  to  the  Church,  because  they 
are  really  of  God  by  the  state  of  their 
Rouls.  The  soul  of  the  Church  is  the  in- 
visible society  of  all  the  just  who  have 
faith,  at  least  implicitly,  in  an  only  God, 
in  the  Redeemer,  and  who,  purified  from 
sin  by  the  virtue  of  the  blood  of  Jesus 
Christ,  are  in  the  grace  of  God.  Thus, 
outside  the  frontiers  of  orthodoxy  vast  re- 
gions aro  held  by  heresy  and  schism.  But 
in  the  very  midst  of  heresy  and  schism, 
how  many  souls  that  aro  sincere  and  of 
good  will  who  are  neither  schismatics 
nor  heretics  !  The  eloquent  Carmelite 
here  paraphrased  the  parable  of  the  good 


Samaritan  to  confirm  his  doctrine.  The 
Samaritan  represents  the  soul  of  the 
Church.  Whoever  has  the  grace  of  Jesus 
Christ,  which  involves,  at  least,  implicit 
faith ;  whoever  has  the  great  spirit  of  the 
gospel,  the  great  charity,  the  love  of  God 
and  his  neighbor,  whatever  his  involun- 
tary errors  may  be,  belongs  to  the  soul 
of  the  Church.  *'I  affii-m,"  he  continues, 
"  with  all  theologians,  that  if  he  knows 
the  Catholic  Church  for  what  she  is,  for  a 
divine  and  obligatory  fact,  he  is  bound  to 
enter  it.  Yes ;  if  he  does  not  look  upon 
it  in  spite  of  himself,  by  the  fault  of  his 
birth  or  education,  through  the  prejudices 
which  render  it  fatally  odious  to  him;  if 
he  sees  it,  I  repeat,  as  a  divine  and  obli- 
gatory fact,  he  is  bound  to  enter  it ;  but 
if  it  depends  not  on  him  to  see  it  thus, 
provided  he  has  Jesus  Christ,  provided  he 
has  charity,  he  is  my  brother.  These  are 
not  theories,  they  are  facts.  Have  we  not 
at  our  door,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Chan- 
nel, a  striking  example?  You  want  facts, 
you  want  positive  science ;  let  us,  then, 
leave  abstractions,  let  us  deal  with  re- 
alities. There  is  in  England  an  elite  of 
prot^stant  ministers,  admirable  for  their 
knowledge  and  virtue,  who,  after  long 
years  of  prayer  and  hesitation,  have  en- 
tered the  Roman  Catholic  Church.  Not 
one  of  them  has  avowed  a  want  of  good 
faith  before  his  conversion;  all,  on  the 
contrary,  have  proclaimed  their  perfect 
sincerity.  I  will  cite  only  one  by  his  glo- 
rious name.  Forced  to  defend  himself 
against  accusations  of  hypocrisy,  or  at 
least,  of  guilty  reticency,  he  wrote  a  book, 
entitled  '  Apology  for  My  Life,'  a  book 
whose  integrity  is  equalled  by  nothing 
but  its  doctrine  and  eloquence — Henry 
John  Newman,  the  first  theologian,  the 
first  writer  of  Catholic  England !  And  • 
in  that  book  he  has  been  able  to  make 
this  admirable  declaration,  '  I  have  never 
sinned  against  the  light.'  If  this  profound 
genius,  if  this  generous  heart,  if  this  man 
who  has  waited,  if  not  for  the  gray  hairs 
of  old  age,  at  least  for  the  maturity  of 
age,  to  enter  visible  unity;  if  this  man 
has  not  sinned  against  the  light,  by  what 


AVE     MARIA. 


41 


ripht,  nnjust,  nnd  violent  men,  wonH  you 
inflict  on  all  those  who  live  in  the  prot- 
estant  reliprion,  the  Ptijjnn.i  of  falsehood 
and  evil?  Ah!  I  will  never  let  you  say 
these  thinpK.  T  am  just  returned  from 
the  protestnnt  conntry  par  €xcene7}ce,  from 
Eniilnnd.  Well,  I  owe  this  testimony  to 
the  truth.  T  found  there  not  only  ereat 
citizens:  T  found  there  preat  christians 
too!  "When  T  shook  their  hand,  when  T 
poured  forth  my  thou<*hts  into  their 
thoughts,  when  I  touched  their  sonl  with 
my  soul — this  is  most  necessary  in  order 
to  know  mankind — there  are  barriers,  they 
said.  I  know  it  well;  there  arc,  if  you 
will,  ahysses;  but  does  not  faith  move 
mountains?  It  is  not  violent  discussion 
which  will  re-establish  unity:  it  is  the 
charity,  the  love,  the  noble  virtues  of  truly 
christian  hearts.  Let  me,  then,  shake 
them  by  the  hand,  let  me  press  them  to 
my  breast,  these  christians,  sincere  in 
their  error,  but  sincere  in  their  love  of 
God,  of  Jesus  Christ,  of  men,  and  in  this 
embrace  let  me  say  once  more:  '  How  crood 
it  is,  how  delicious  it  is,  to  be  brothers 
and  to  dwell  together,  if  not  in  the  same 
body,  at  least  in  the  same  soul,  in  the 
invisible  unity  of  the  Church  of  Jesus 
Christ.'" 

This  is  the  language  of  an  intolerant 
monk,  even  of  a  barefooted  Carmelite? 
"Would  that  all  Protestants  professed  the 
same  intolerance ! 

P.  Hyacinthe's  second  sermon,  preached 
last  Sunday,  has  given  rise  to  a  very  an- 
gry newspaper  discussion,  the  particulars 
of  which  I  reserve  for  my  next,  conclu- 
ding the  present  with  a  biographical 
sketch  of  the  preacher. 

Charles  Loyson  (in  religion,  P6re  Hya- 
cinthe),  was  born  in  1827  at  Orleans.  He 
finished  his  studies  at  Pau,  his  father  be- 
ing rector  of  the  academy  at  that  place. 
He  even  at  that  early  period  distinguished 
himself  as  a  good  versifier.  He  entered 
the  seminary  of  St.  Sulpice  at  the  age  of 
eighteen,  and  at  twenty-two  was  ordained 
priest.  He  was  professor  of  philosophy 
at  the  seminary  of  Avignon,  and  later  pro- 
fessor of  theoloGTV  at  that  of  Xantcs.     He 


was  afterwards  attached  as  curate  to  the 
parish  of  St.  Sulpice,  in  Paris.  After 
a  ten  years'  trial  he  became  convinced 
that  his  real  vocation  lay  in  preaching. 
This  induced  him  to  enter  the  convent  of 
the  Carmelites  in  Lyons.  After  a  two 
years'  noviciate  he  was  recived  into  the 
Order,  and  began  his  pulpit  career  by 
preaching  the  Retreat  at  the  Lyc^e.  In 
1863  he  preached  the  Advent  at  Bordeaux, 
in  1864  Lent  at  P6rignex.  He  came  to 
Paris  the  same  year,  and  first  made  him- 
self known  by  his  sermons  at  the  Made- 
leine. His  sermons  at  Notre  Dame  during 
the  Advent  of  1864  placed  him  at  once  at 
the  head  of  French  preachers. 


Where  shall  we  look  for  the  Cireat  Men 
of  the  Fotore? 


[We  take  this  excellent  article  from  the 
Scholastic  Year,  a  paper  published  every 
week  at  Notre  Dame,  for  and  by  the  stu- 
dents of  the  University,  containing  many 
articles  that  will  be  read  with  pleasure, 
not  only  by  them  and  their  parents  but  by 
the  general  reader.] 

It  is  said  of  the  popular  literature  of 
the  present  day,  and  the  fact  cannot  be 
denied,  that  it  has  the  effect  to  enervate 
and  enfeeble  the  mental  powers,  to  blunt 
and  vitiate  the  moral  perceptions,  in  short, 
to  enslave  the  whole  nature,  by  undermin- 
ing every  noble  and  pure  principle  im- 
planted therein.  Notwithstanding  this 
fact,  how  eagerly  and  indiscriminately 
does  the  so  called  reading  public  devour 
this  literature.  The  sound,  literary  merit 
is  the  last  question  thought  of,  the  result 
of  its  perusal  upon  the  character  of  the 
reader  being  a  matter  not  deemed  worthy 
of  consideration. 

Many  a  parent  who  would  smile  at  the 
advice  to  be  cautious  in  the  choice  of 
books  to  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  his 
child,  would  prefer  to  see  him  in  his  cofl*in 
rather  than  to  expose  him  to  habits  of 
falsehood,  dishonesty,  etc.,  and  yet  there 
are  unmistakable  proofs  that  a  passion  for 


42 


AVE      MARIA 


light  reading  is  scarcely  less  disgraceful 
or  injurious  than  the  vices  cited  above; 
indeed  this  passion  once  in  the  ascend- 
ency is  the  fruitful  source  of  almost  every 
other  vice. 

A  sound  mind  must  be  accustomed  to 
sound,  vigorous  and  healthful  reflection, 
just  as  the  strength  of  the  muscular  system 
must  be  maintained  by  regular  and  health- 
ful exercise:  but  in  light  literature  what 
is  there  to  promote  vigorous  mental  exer- 
tion ?  The  best  that  can  be  said  of  the 
more  respectable  works  of  this  class  is 
that  they  aflford  relaxation  to  the  mind 
when  overtaxed. 

If  the  portrayal  of  selfish  and  evil  pas- 
sions, mingled  with  insignificant  gossip, 
and  specious  immorality,  the  insidious 
poison  of  unchristian  and  false  principles, 
promotes  a  good  result,  then  is  our  poi)u- 
lar  literature  falsely  accused  and  we  may 
look  for  Newtons,  Humboldts,  Ilerschels 
and  Audubon s  to  arise  from  the  swollen 
ranks  of  our  modern  novel-readers;  but  if, 
on  the  contrary,  familiarity  with  evil  im- 
agery destroys  the  moral  vigor,  and  weak- 
ens mental  force,  have  we  not  everything 
to  fear  for  those  young  men  who  expe- 
rience no  pleasure  in  reading  books  of  a 
more  elevated  stamp? 

Light  reading  does  not  exercise  the 
mind.  It  only  entertains  the  imagination, 
and  througli  this  channel  stimulates  the 
passions:  or  if  not  so  bad  as  that,  it  di- 
verts the  attention  from  more  worthy  pur- 
suits. The  effect  is  similar  to  that  of  the 
gossipping  disposition  so  deplorably  uni- 
versal, and  so  destructive  to  the  peace  of 
societies  and  families.  Indeed  a  passion 
for  light  reading  and  a  love  for  slander 
and  detraction  generally  accompany  each 
other. 

Show  me  a  lover  of  scientific  works  and 
those  published  for  the  purpose  of  enno- 
bling the  mind  and  the  heart,  one  who  has 
a  care  for  some  reading  above  the  current 
news  of  the  day  and  the  last  new  story, 
and  I  will  show  you  one  whose  conscience 
will  not  permit  him  to  be  entertained  by 
the  tongue  of  the  slanderer  an<l  the  detrac- 
tor.    Show  me  a  confirmed  novel-reader, 


and  I  will  show  you  one  who  avoids  the 
society  of  the  learned  and  the  thoughtful, 
and  who  seeks  that  of  the  trifling  and  the 
vicious. 

We  have,  it  is  true,  much  pretty  writ- 
ing which  has  ever  won  for  the  authors 
great  celebrity,  but  which,  if  dissected, 
proves  that  if  there  was  a  purpose  on  the 
part  of  the  writer,  that  it  was  not  de- 
signed to  strengthen  the  moral  powers. 

Take  one  stanza  of  "Driftings,"  by  a 
popular  poet.  The  most  confirmed  Turk 
could  not  pen  a  more  sensual  passage : 

"Over  the  rail  my  hand  I  trail, 
Withia  the  shadow  of  the  sail ; 
A  joy  intense,  the  cooling  sense, 
Glides  down  my  drowsy  indolence." 

Indeed,  the  spirit  of  the  whole  pretty 
poem  is  unworthy  of  a  man  born  in  a 
christian  country. 

To  sum  up  the  charge  against  popular 
literature,  it  inculcates  the  indulgence 
of  sensuality,  and  deifies  evil  passions; 
hence  selfishness,  wilfulness,  disobedience 
and  irreverence,  with  all  the  countless 
vices  that  follow  in  their  train,  are  more 
prevalent  than  ever  before. 

It  is  the  happy  prerogative  of  youth  to 
decide  his  own  future,  by  forming  his  own 
habits.  Happy  those  who  have  escaped 
the  passion  for  light  reading,  for  it  is  from 
the  ranks  of  this  class  of  vigorous-minded, 
whole-souled,  whole-hearted  young  men, 
that  we  must  look  for  the  great  men  of  the 
future. 


R«ae, 


The  revolutionary  journals  have  been 
full,  during  the  last  few  days,  of  denun- 
ciations of  the  Papal  Government  for  the 
execution  of  Monti  and  Tognetti.  The 
debates  of  Florence  have  proved  the  full 
responsibility  of  the  Italian  Government 
and  Chamber  in  the  atrocious  crime  for 
which  they  sufl*ered,  and  the  brother  of 
Tognetti  has  been  presented  by  the  Pre- 
fect of  Naples  with  200  gr.  and  two  gr.  a 
day  for  life,  besides  a  permanent  place  on 
the  Ariano  Railway.     He  was  convicted 


AVE      MARIA 


4:3 


not  only  of  the  crime  of  Serristori,  but  of 
the  murder  of  his  landlord  the  same  even- 
ing, an  old  and  unarmed  man,  and  con- 
trived to  evade  justice  and  escape  to  Na- 
ples. If  these  be  thy  martyrs,  O  Italy, 
the  supply  can  always  be  renewed  from 
the  galleys  and  the  rescued  from  the  gib- 
bet ;  and  if  it  should  ever  fail  here,  Port- 
land and  Dartmoor,  Brest  and  Civita 
Vecchia  can  always  be  relied  on  as  willing 
contributors  to  the  National  Valhalla. 
It  is  remarkable  that  the  greatest  indig- 
nation and  resentment  was  expressed  by 
both  the  condemned  men  against  those 
vei*Y  deputies  and  Ministers  of  Florence 
who  are  now  talking  of  placing  their  heads 
on  the  national  banner,  and  the  pious 
priests  who  attended  their  last  moments 
had  the  greatest  difficulty  in  inducing 
them  to  forgive  "  the  infamous  wretches 
who  have  betrayed  us,"  as  they  themselves 
styled  their  posthumous  admirers.  A 
friend,  who  has  just  returned  from  Flor- 
ence, and  who  was  present  at  the  debate, 
states  that  the  most  frantic  applause  fol- 
lowed Bixio's  speech,  in  which  he  spoke 
of  driving  the  French  into  the  Tiber,  and 
that  the  whole  temper  of  the  Chamber 
was  in  favor  of  the  two  assassins.  "  Nev- 
er," said  he,  "  did  I  assist  at  such  a  de- 
gradation of  public  morality  on  the  part  of 
a  public  assembly,  or  one  which  gave  me 
less  hope  for  the  future  of  Italy."  Maz- 
zini  is  still  in  a  most  precarious  state, 
and  his  partisans  are  in  the  greatest  anxi- 
ety about  him. — London  Weekly  Register. 


Burial  of  the  late  Dr.  Dunne. — 
The  funeral  ceremonies  of  the  Very  Rev. 
D.  Dunne,  D.  D.,  who  died  in  Chicago 
on  Wednesday,  December  23d,  took  place 
on  last  Sunday,  December  27th,  in  St. 
Patrick's  Church,  and  was  one  of  the 
most  imposing  demonstrations  ever  wit- 
nessed in  that  city.  The  deceased  was 
one  of  the  most  popular  and  well  known 
clergymen  in  the  western  country,  having 
occupied  the  position  of  vioar-general  of 
the  Diocese  of  Chicago,  and  previous  to 
that  appointment,  having  served  as  one 
of  the   tirst  catholic   mi^<sionarie8  of  Il- 


linois. In  his  official  capacity  he  became 
intimately  connected  with  all  Church  mat- 
ters in  Illinois,  and  was  universally  be- 
loved and  respected  by  all  who  knew  him. 
The  announcement  of  his  death,  therefore, 
created  a  widespread  feeling  of  gloom 
and  sadness  among  those  who  knew  and 
loved  him. 

The  assemblage  at  the  church  was  im- 
mense. Outside  of  the  catholic  societies, 
there  were  thousands  of  eager  men  and 
women,  who  congregated  in  the  streets 
and  sidewalks,  thereby  testifying  to  the 
love  and  respect  with  which  they  regarded 
the  departed.  The  streets  and  the  church 
were  completely  blockaded,  and  it  was 
with  great  difficulty  that  the  societies  were 
enabled  to  force  their  way  through  the 
crowd,  and  form   in  procession. 

The  funeral  procession  proceeded  to  the 
Northwestern  Railroad  depot,  where  as 
many  as  could  find  room  in  three  immense 
trains — sixty-three  cars  in  all — which  had 
been  prepared  for  the  mournful  occasion, 
accompanied  the  cortege  to  Calvary  Cem- 
etery, where  the  earthly  remains  of  Father 
Dunne  were  laid  in  their  final  resting  place. 

Death  of  Very  Rev.  Wm.  O'Reilly 
OF  Newport,  R.  I. — Our  people  were 
somewhat  startled  on  Dec.  20,  at  the  re- 
port that  Father  O'Reilly  of  St.  Mary's 
Church  had  suddenly  deceased.  Though 
not  in  good  health  for  a  long  time  he  was 
apparently  as  well  as  usual  up  to  within  a 
few  hours  of  his  death.  His  disease  was 
hemorrhage  of  the  lungs,  the  first  attack 
having  occurred  at  5  o'clock  a.  m.,  on  Dec. 
19.  It  was  renewed  at  10  and  again  at 
6  p.  m.,  and  he  passed  away  at  three  min- 
utes past  twelve  Sunday  morning. 

Died,  Dec.  27th,  at  his  father's  resi- 
dence, Philadelphia,  Rev.  John  F.  Mellon, 
a  young  priest  of  that  city. 


Ordinations. 


The  following  is  a  complete  list  of  the 
gentlemen  recently  ordained  at  the  Sem- 
inary of  St.  Francis  de  Sales,  Milwaukee. 

PRIESTS   AND  THEIR   DIOCESES  I 

Rev.   Messrs.   J.  Beinekc,  Chicago;  E. 


4r4 


AVE     MARIA. 


Blume,  St.  Louis;  J.  Lagam,  Milwaukee; 
C.  Kcenig,  Alton;  A.  Coke,  La  Crosse;  H. 
O'Brien,  Milwaukee;  S.  Trant,  Milwau- 
kee; S.  Woelfl,  Milwaukee;  E.  Zeohenser, 
St.  Louis;  A.  Zeininger,  Milwaukee;  A. 
Zitterl, Milwaukee;  M.Ruckengruber, Mil- 
waukee; H.  Wellmes,  Milwaukee. 

DEACONS  AND  THEIR  DIOCESES: 

Messrs.  J.  Murphy,  St.  Louis;  M.  Ga;b- 
bels,  Chicago;  A.  Sauter,  Dubuque;  F. 
J.  Murtaugh,  Chicago;  A.  Seubert,  Green 
Bay. 

StTBDEACONS : 

Messrs.  J.  G.  Meiner,  Milwaukee;  J. 
Huber,  Milwaukee;  John  J.  Hennessy,  St. 
Louis ;  J.  Schwebauch,  La  Crosse ;  G. 
Najwer,  La  Crosse;  R.  Ryan,  La  Crosse; 
J.  Savage,  Detroit;  Messrs.  Bromensohen- 
kel,  Dubuque;  J.  Friedl,  Milwaukee;  T. 
Harringer, Milwaukee;  F.  Heller,  Kansas; 
E.  Hoeynk,  St.  Louis ;  C.  HofFman,  Alton; 
H.  Fegers,  Chicago;  C.  Huth,  Chicago; 
J.  Pichler,  Kansas;  C.  Kalvelage,  Chi- 
cago; P.  Gormly,  Chicago;  J.  Weiderhold, 
Chicago;  T.  Lydon,  Chicago;  T.  Murphy, 
and  M.  Luby,  Chicago.  —  Northwestern 
Chronicle. 

On  St.  Thomas'  Day,  21st  ult.,  at  Co- 
lumbus, Ohio,  Mr.  Nicholas  A.  Gallagher 
received  the  Holy  Order  of  Subdeaconship, 
in  St.  Patrick's  Church,  at  the  hands  of 
the  Right  Rev.  Bishop  Rosecrans. 

On  the  22d  the  same  was  ordained  dea- 
con, and  on  Christmas  day  was  raised  to 
the  Holy  Priesthood,  in  the  Church  of  the 
Holy  Cross. 

On  Sunday,  Dec.  20th,  Rev.  Martin  X. 
Fallon  was  ordained  priest  by  Rt.  Rev. 
Bishop  Becker,  at  St.  Mary's  college,  Wil- 
mington, Del. 


St.  Francis  de  Sales  often  said  "  The 
pagans  loved  only  those  by  whom  they 
were  loved ;  but  christians  must  ofier  their 
friendship  to  those  who  love  them  not,  and 
to  those  very  persons  towards  whom  they 
feel  the  greatest  repugnance  and  aver- 
sion." 


AISHSTALS 
OF  OUR  LADY  OF  THE  SACRED  HEART. 


An  Account  of  the  Progress  of  the 

Association  of  Our  Lady  of  tub 

Sacred  Heart, 

Canonically  established  in  the  church  of  the  Sacred 
Heart  of  Jesus,  Issoudun,  France ;  approved  by 
the  Holy  Father  Pius  IX,  to  obtain,  by  her  power- 
ful intercession,  the  success  of  difficult,  extreme, 
and  despaired  of  cases,  in  the  spiritual  as  well  as 
temporal  order. 

its  extension,  graces  asked  and  favors 

OBTAINED  during- THE  THREE  YEARS 
AND  A  HALF  OF  ITS  SXISTENCE. 

The  Confraternity  of  Our  Lady  of  the 
Sacred  Heart,  erected  the  5th  of  April, 
1864,  in  the  chui-ch  of  the  Missionaries  of 
the  Sacred  Heart  of  Jesus,  Issoudun, 
France,  by  Mgr.  the  Prince  de  la  Tour 
d'Auvergne,  Archbishop  of  Bourges;  gra- 
ciously received,  canonically  approved  and 
enriched  with  precious  indulgences  by  His 
Holiness  Pius  IX,  in  a  Brief  dated  June 
7th,  of  the  same  year;  recommended  and 
approved  in  letters  carefully  preserved, 
or  established  in  churches  and  chapels  of 
their  dioceses,  by  more  than  fifty  prelates, 
cardinals,  archbishops  and  bishops  of 
France  and  other  countries;  joined  by 
the  faithful  throughout  the  whole  world; 
numbered,  two  months  after  its  founda- 
tion, 50,000  inscribed  associates.  In  Jan- 
uary, 1866,  or  sixteen  months  later,  the 
number  increased  to  200,000. 

At  the  same  epoch,  that  is  after  about 
90  meetings,  there  were  registered  80,000 
special  recommendations,  and  1,500  acts  of 
thanksgiving  in  acknowledgment  of  favors 
received. 

Between  the  month  of  January  and  the 
5th  of  June  100,000  associates  were  en- 
rolled, 60,000  recommendations,  and  300 
more  acts  of  thanksgiving  with  a  corres- 
ponding number  oiex-voto  offerings  placed 
in  the  sanctuary  of  Our  Lady  of  the  Sacred 
Heart. 

At  the  end  of  December,  1866,  there  had 
been  received,  during  the  year  only,  286,- 


AVE      MARIA 


46 


I 


953  recommendations,  which  being  joined 
to  the  preceding,  nniounted  to  the  prodig- 
ious figure  of  360.000;  and  during  the  same 
time  we  had  received  the  details  of  3,668 
graces  received,  and  of  6,000  in  two  years 
and  a  half. 

This  first  account,  rendered  in  the  first 
part  of  1867,  shows  the  marvellous  spread 
of  the  Confraternity  of  Our  Lady  of  the 
Sacred  Heart. 

The  same  Association  encouraged  and 
enriched  with  new  indulgences  by  the 
august  and  well  beloved  Pius  IX,  the  26th 
of  June,  1867  ;  aggregated  to  the  congre- 
gation called  prima  Primaria,  established 
in  Rome,  in  the  college  of  the  Jesuit 
Fathers,  the  29th  of  June,  1867;  eulogized 
with  enthusiasm  the  6th  of  August  of  the 
game  year,  in  the  church  of  the  Mission- 
aries of  the  Sacred  Heart,  by  Mgr.  the 
Archbishop  of  Bourges ;  praised  and  in- 
troduced into  their  dioceses  by  many  more 
prelates,  cardinals,  archbishops  and  bish- 
ops of  Europe  and  distant  countries;  its 
profound  reasonableness  and  sublimity 
explained  :  spread  with  zeal  by  the  cath- 
olic press,  and  established  over  almost 
the  whole  world,  had  inscribed  on  its  reg- 
isters, the  31  St  of  May,  1867,  one  million  of 
Associates,  that  is  15,000  a  week,  50,000 
a  month,  and  600,000  a  year. 

At  the  same  epoch  there  were  inscribed 
8,000  acts  of  thanksgiving  for  graces  re- 
ceived, which  gives  an  average  of  500  a 
month.  Cures  obtained  formed  the  greater 
part  of  the  graces  received ;  but  there 
were  also  many  conversions,  often  unex- 
pected ones,  different  kinds  of  temporal 
graces,  and  a  still  greater  number  of 
spiritual  blessings. 

With  this  success,  the  recommenda- 
tions to  the  prayers  of  the  associates  for 
particular  graces  have  been  multiplied  to 
an  almost  incredible  number.  From  the 
month  of  June,  1866,  to  the  3l8t  of  May 
1867,  they  amounted  to  780,780. 

By  the  end  of  the  same  year,  1867,  the 
director  of  the  Association  had  inscribed 
1,500,000  associates;  he  had  received  and 
announced  to  the  Sunday  reunions  of  the 
associates  1,263,500  recommendations,  and 


enregistered  and  published  8,000  thanks- 
givings for  graces  received ! 

Figures  in  this  case  are  eloquent. 


The  Actual  State  of  the  CoyyRA- 

TBBIilTY. 

The  number  of  associates,  which  was 
1,000,000  the  31st  of  May  1867,  and  1,600,- 
000  in  December  of  the  same  year,  is  now 
over  2,000,000. 

The  recommendations,  which  at  the 
first  date  mentioned  above,  amounted  to 
786,780,  and  at  the  second  date  to  1,263,- 
500,  now  amounts  to  21,100,000!  Thus, 
during  the  year  1868,  there  were  more 
recommendations  to  the  prayers  of  the 
Association  than  during  the  preceding 
two  years  and  a  half;  which  shows  with 
what  confidence  hearts  turn  from  all  parts 
of  the  world  to  the  Queen  of  the  Sacred 
Heart,  and  through  her  to  the  Sacred 
Heart  of  Jesus. 

And  facts  justify  this  confidence.  For 
in  December  of  1867,  8,000  acts  of  thanks- 
giving had  been  received  since  the  found- 
ation of  the  Confraternity  in  June,  1864, 
and  now  they  amount  to  over  21,000. 
More  than  double.  Consequently  12,000 
acknowledgments  of  graces  received  in 
one  yearT  That  is  1,000  a  month,  250  a 
week,  35  a  day  !  without  speaking  of  num- 
berless favors  which  have  not  been  made 
known  to  us. 

The  pilgrimages  to  the  Sanctuary  of 
Notre  Dame  of  the  Sacred  Heart  become 
more  and  more  numerous.  Ex-voto  ofier- 
ings  cover  the  walls  of  the  Sanctuary. 
From  all  sides  are  sent  precious  stones 
and  objects  of  artistic  merit  to  decorate 
her  statue. 

This  year  (1868)  the  Association  has 
been  introduced  into  Peru  and  other  dis- 
tant countries.  In  Spain  it  has  a  great 
number  of  members.  In  Chili  it  has 
made  rapid  progress.  In  Holland,  where 
it  has  been  established  only  eighteen 
months,  there  are  already  20,000  members. 
The  Swiss  Cantons,  even  Geneva,  have 
adopted  it  with  great  fervor.  Other 
countries  of  Europe,  the  Grand  Duchy  of 


^6 


AVE     MARIA 


Luxemburg,  Italy,  England,  Southern 
Prussia,  Austria  have  given  it  a  hearty 
welcome.  But  in  France,  Belgium,  Can- 
ada and  the  United  States  it  has  an  im- 
mense development.  A  considerable  num- 
ber of  churches  and  chapels  have  been  ded- 
icated to  Our  Lady  of  the  Sacred  Heart, 
and  parishes  have  been  erected  under  that 
title.  These  facts  and  figures  show  how 
agreeable  this  title  is  to  the  hearts  of  the 
faithful  and  to  the  Heart  of  Mary,  and 
how  much  our  Blessed  Mother  wishes  to 
justify  the  confidence  that  is  placed  in 
her  when  praying  to  her  as  Our  Lady 
of  the  Sacred  Heart. 


HILDREN'S 


EPARTMENT. 


Thsian-Kang's  Tales. 

Freddy  read  the  book  given  him  on 
New-year's  day,  and  re-read  it,  but  he 
could  not  make  out  from  it  why  the 
Chinese  were  not  catholics  as  a  nation 
instead  of  being  so  merely  individually, 
here  and  there  one.  He  asked  Thsian- 
Kang  about  it,  and  the  answer  puzzled 
him  still  more;  the  Chinese  gentleman 
said,  "  Talking  is  of  little  use  if  people 
are  not  agreed  on  first  principles ;  they 
speak  a  different  language  while  using 
the  same  words."  But  when  Freddy 
seemed  vexed,  he  appeared  to  relent  a 
little,  for  he  drew  the  boy  towards  him 
and  said :  "  But  we  will  try  to  understand 
each  other.  The  sons  of  the  Celestial 
Empire  are  brothers,  or  at  least  cousins, 
to  the  children  of  young  America,  if  de- 
scent is  traced  back  far  enough ;  let  us 
each  tell  our  histories  and  the  history  of 
our  ideas,  and  then  perhaps  we  may  come 
to  an  understanding." 

"Oh,  I  should  like  to  hear  the  history 
of  China,"  said  Fred. 

"  The  History  of  men,  apart  from  the 
history  of  the  ideas  that  govern  them, 
and  that  have  made  them  what  they  arc, 
is  of  little  import,"  said  his  friend.     "  But 


I  will  do  my  best.  To  begin,  however, 
I  must  begin  with  the  creation,  for  China's 
governors  claim  lor  themselves  the  title  of 
'  sons  of  God,'  and  as  they  rule  by  divine 
right  I  must  tell  you  on  what  their  title 
is  founded.     So  have  patience. 

"  Ere  time  was,  say  the  Chinese  legends, 
God  was.  That  is,  a  Being  existed,  al- 
ways had  existed,  supreme  in  intelligence, 
in  power,  in  wisdom,  in  harmony  and  hap- 
piness. All  idea  centred  in  Him.  He 
wished  to  manifest  Idea,  to  communicate 
the  element  of  happiness  which  resided  in 
Himself  to  other  existences  that  they 
might  be  happy  in  Him. 

"His  idea,  or  His  Wisdom,  which  had 
ever  existed,  came  forth  as  it  were  from 
the  Eternal  Essence ;  to  which  however 
it  remained  united  interiorly,  though  man- 
ifested exteriorly.  This  Wisdom  produced 
Matter  by  an  Utterance,  a  ,Word.  Im- 
mediately on  that  Utterance  being  pro- 
nounced, all  the  immensity  of  space  was 
filled  with  atomic  elements :  that  is,  with 
all  the  different  elements  that  form  matter. 
These  were  in  a  state  of  diffusion,  forming 
an  immense  mass  of  vapors  or  fluids, 
which  penetrated  in  every  direction." 

"  Why,  that  was  chaos,"  said  Freddy, 
proud  of  his  learning. 

"  Yes,  chaos  was  elementary  matter 
diffused  through  space  without  form  or 
order ;  now,  since  you  know  so  much,  tell 
me  how  it  was  reduced  to  order  ?" 

"And  the  spirit  of  God  moved  over 
the  waters,"  said  Mary,  reverently,  seeing 
that  Freddy  was  not  prepared  with  the 
answer. 

"Yes,"  said  Thsian-Kang,  "but  the 
term  which  your  Sacred  Book  translates 
waters,  would  be  equally  well  represented 
by  chaos,  or  the  fluids.  The  spirit  of  God 
moved  upon  the  diffusion  of  atoms,  then 
in  a  fluid  state,  and  produced  order.  The 
next  word  uttered  was,  *Let  there  be 
Light!'  And  tliere  was  light.  Now, 
Freddy;  I  know  that  you  are  studying 
natural  philosophy ;  you  know,  then,  that 
material  light  involves  the  motion  of  at- 
oms; that  if  you  set  fire  to  anything,  and 
burn  it,  the  thing  itself  is  soon  gone,  the 


AVE     MARIA 


47 


light  it  gives  sets  in  motion  the  atoms 
which  compose  it,  and  changes  them  into 
smoke,  ashes,  and  something  else  which 
escapes  into  the  atmosj>here." 

"Yes,"  said  Freddy,  "my  book  says 
'notliing  is  lost,  only  changed.'" 

"Well,"  rejoined  the  Chinese  philoso- 
pher, "the  spirit  of  God  brooding  over 
the  different  atoms,  first  called  them  into 
action  by  means  of  light;  then,  motion 
being  once  originated  by  means  of  this 
light,  order  was  gradually  established  by 
a  continuance  of  the  direct  action  of  God. 
You  must  bear  in  mind  that  all  matter 
being  an  expression  of  the  Divine  Idea,  it 
is  important  to  study  the  order  and  the 
effect  of  the  Divine  Action.  The  first  ef- 
fect was  light,  material  light,  but  as  this 
light  is  only  a  tj'pe  of  a  higher,  of  a  spir- 
itual, or  rather  Divine  light,  the  tradition 
adds,  that  simultaneously  with  material 
light,  intelligences  capable  of  enjoying 
and  of  comprehending  that  light  were  also 
called  into  being:  these  have  been  called 
spirits,  genii,  ethereal  essences,  spiritual 
existences,  angels — by  different  people ; 
they  were  beings  endowed  by  God  with 
wondrous  power,  and  were  now  summoned 
to  witness  the  reduction,  of  the  chaotic  at- 
oms to  order,  harmony  and  beauty. 

"It  must  have  been  a  glorious  sight 
that  first  action  of  material  light,  twink- 
ling and  sparkling  throughout  all  space, 
now  flashing  into  glory  as  it  met  with 
combustible  material,  then  compressing 
itself  into  a  more  solid  state  as  it  fused 
metallic  atoms  together.  No  fire-rockets 
in  the  world  can  compare  with  that  dis- 
play of  luminous  circles,  now  here,  now 
there,  bursting  forth  into  lustrous  beauty; 
'twas  a  fitting  spectacle  for  the  glorious 
intelligences  whom  it  heralded  into  being. 

"And  God  saw  the  light  that  it  was 
good,"  said  Mrs.  Longford's  voice,  chim- 
ing in  from  the  bay  window,  where  she 
sat;  "and  He  divided  the  light  from  the 
darkness  and  He  called  the  light  Day,  and 
the  darkness  He  called  Night;  the  even- 
ing and  the  morning  were  the  first  day." 

Thsian-Kang  smiled  and  continued: 
''Light   having   once   emanated  from  the 


Most  High,  order  and  harmony  followed 
of  course,  and  therefore  God  said,  'Let 
there  be  firmness  made  amid  this  fluid 
mass,  and  let  it  divide  the  fluids  one  from 
the  other:  and  the  action  still  progress- 
ing, the  atomic  particles  were  brought 
into  closer  contact  by  this  last  word:  an 
attraction  seemed  established,  large  por- 
tions of  the  chaotic  mass  drew  closer  to- 
gether, consolidated  somewhat,  and  by 
force  of  mutual  pressure  under  an  attrac- 
tion directed  by  the  same  Holy  Spirit  who 
had  moved  amid  its  fluids  ere  the  first  im- 
partation  of  light  had  infused  the  first  ac- 
tion, globes  of  various  sizes,  of  various 
brilliancy  formed  themselves  in  the  vast 
space  more  or  less  compact  according  to 
the  office  they  are  to  fill.  It  was  a  length- 
ened process  to  resolve  that  brilliant  star- 
dust  into  orbs  of  light:  and  the  European 
star-gazers  who  say  they  can  gaze  through 
their  long  tubes  into  the  recesses  of  space, 
tell  us  that  there  is  still  a  vast  quantity 
of  star-dust  left,  to  be  gathered  into  closer 
quarters  at  some  future  time,  and  thus 
form  future  worlds.  How  that  may  be  I 
know  not ;  a  thousand  years  with  the  great 
God  of  the  universe  is  but  as  a  single  day, 
and  there  is  no  limit  to  His  power  or 
glory.  But  at  this  second  action  of  di- 
vine power  over  matter,  we  only  learn  that 
God  made  the  firmness  He  desired,  that 
the  liquid  forces  separated  from  each  other, 
and  that  some  were  placed  in  a  portion  of 
space  called  heaven,  and  one  orb  formed 
the  portion  we  now  inhabit  as  the  earth." 

Again,  Mrs.  Longford's  voice  was  heard : 
"And  God  said,  'Let  there  be  afirmanent 
in  the  midst  of  the  waters,  and  let  it  di- 
vide the  waters  from  the  waters.  And 
God  made  the  firmament  and  divided  the 
M'aters  which  were  under  the  firmament 
from  the  waters  that  were  above  the  fir- 
mament and  it  was  so.  And  God  called 
the  firmament  Heaven.  And  the  evening 
and  the  morning  were  the  second  day.'" 

"  Why  that  is  in  the  Bible,  mamma," 
said  Hosa. 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Longford,  "that  is  the 
account  left  us  by  Moses,  of  the  ancient 
traditions." 


4:8 


AVE     MARIA 


"  But,  one  day,  the  Bible  says,  and  from 
Mr.  Thsian-Kang^s  account  it  rather  seems 
years  upon  years?" 

"  The  day  in  the  Bible,  my  dear,  does 
not  mean  a  solar  day,  seeing  that  the  sun 
was  not,  as  far  as  we  have  yet  told  the 
world's  history,  formed  into  shape  from 
the  atomic  star-dust.  The  word  day  is 
used  to  denote  the  period  of  action  of  one 
process.  So  far  wo  have  the  action  of 
light,  and  of  attraction  on  matter." 

"The  third  action,"  said  Thsian-Kang, 
"  was  the  production  of  vegetable  life 
also,  before  the  dense  mists  attendant  on 
the  aggregation  of  the  masses  of  chaotic 
atoms  were  cleared  away  sufficiently  to 
allow  the  worlds  beyond  to  be  visible. 
These  mists  subsiding  somewhat,  being 
absorbed  perhaps  in  the  immense  quan- 
tity of  foliage  gradually  accumulated,  the 
sun,  moon  and  stars  became  sufficiently 
dense  to  be  visible,  and  to  keep  up  the 
motion  of  the  fluids  in  the  plants  and 
trees.  Then  followed  the  production  of 
life  in  the  coolest  portion  of  the  earth's 
surface,  the  water  and  the  air,  and  lastly 
the  animal  race  was  created  for  the  soil. 
How  long  elapsed  between  these  periods 
cannot  be  estimated,  but  the  whole  forma- 
tion as  a  preparation  for  the  habitation  of 
the  *  sons  of  God,'  of  the  being  who  was 
to  enjoy,  to  understand  all  this,  who  was 
to  have  the  attributes  of  his  Maker  im- 
printed on  his  soul  so  that  he  might  in  his 
degree  exercise  lordship  over  the  crea- 
tion, and  live  in  an  intelligent  union  with 
the  designs  of  God,  and  form  all  his  ac- 
tions, his  rule  of  government  and  his  ap- 
preciations of  the  true,  the  beautiful,  and 
the  good,  after  that  divine  Model.  The 
whole  history  of  this  is  so  stupendously 
grand,  so  fraught  with  sublimity,  that  it  is 
equalled  only  by  the  Redemption." 

"  But,"  said  Freddy,  "  this  is  not  Chi- 
nese History  ;  it  is  the  world's  history." 

"  It  is  of  course  the  world's  history" 
said  Thsian-Kang,  "but  you  forget  we 
Chinese  are  conservative:  we  keej}  to  the 
old  traditions  practically.  They  work 
upon  us  still.  You,  new-men, — excuse  me, 
Freddy, — invent  theories,  and  your  theo- 


ries destroy  the  morale  of  the  old  world. 
Children  in  young  America  assume  they 
know  as  much  as  their  parents,  because 
they  learn  to  read  and  write,  and  discover 
too  soon  the  wickedness  of  the  world. 
Now,  with  us,  our  traditions  still  make 
man  the  *  son  of  God';  we  still  believe  all 
authority  derived  from  Him  alone,  conse- 
quently  we  reverence  our  ancestors,  per- 
haps even  too  much ;  but  the  result  is, 
children  obey  their  parents,  and  industry 
is  encouraged  among  us  beyond  any  na- 
tion of  the  earth.  We  have  preserved  our 
civilization  in  spite  of  some  wars,  for 
three  thousand  years,  while  the  rest  of  the 
world  has  been  continually  changing  mas- 
ters and  forms  of  government,  and  have 
been  reduced  from  civilization  to  barbar- 
ism from  which  they  are  now  trying  to 
emerge  again.  Our  first  traditions  are 
necessarily  the  same,  for  Moses  could  but 
gather  from  the  same  source  that  we  did. 
Yet  a  Chinese  history  of  the  world  would 
set  things  in  a  very  different  light  from  that 
of  your  historians.  What  you  would  call 
wisdom  they  might  term  folly,  and  all  be- 
cause they  are  accustomed  to  look  on 
things  so  differently.  Yet  all  have  the 
same  traditions  originally,  as  you  say." 

"I  should  like  to  have  a  Chinese  his- 
tory of  the  world,"  said  Freddy. 

"If  so,"  said  his  friend,  "we  will  to- 
morrow night  examine  the  traditions  of 
the  Eastern  world  respecting  our  first 
parents,  and  then  we  shall  obtain  an  idea 
of  how  to  trace  their  descendants  to  the 
present  time." 


^  «  #  «  ^ 


A  person  greatly  in  the  confidence  of 
St.  Francis  told  him  once,  that  she  found 
nothing  so  difficult  in  the  practice  of  Chris- 
tian perfect  ion,  as  the  command  to  love 
one's  enemies.  "  And  I,"  answered  Francis, 
"  I  can't  tell  how  my  heart  is  made,  or  how 
it  has  pleased  God  to  shape  it,  but  in  fact 
I  feel  no  difficulty  whatever  in  obeying  that 
command;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  so  pleasant 
for  me  to  comply  with  it,  and  I  fuel  a  joy 
so  extraordinary  and  peculiar,  that  had 
God  forbid  my  loving  them,  I  would  find 
it  extremely  difficult  to  obey  Ilim." 


•      ".O 


AVE   MARIA. 

^  Catholic  ^ontitat  AtxoUA  to  the  ^onox  of  the  §te$$rd  ^irgitt 


Vol.  Y.  NOTRE  DAME,  INDIANA,  JANUARY  23,  1869.  Ho.  4. 


Mary  is  Eitltled  to  the  Special  Gratitode 

of  those  who  Enjoy  the  Benefits 

of  Redemption. 

The  Rev.  Father  Melia  has  published, 
with  the  imprimatur  of  his  Grace  the 
Archbishop  of  Westminster,  a  volume  in 
honor  of  the  Blessed  Mother  of  God,  en- 
titled "  The  Woman  Blessed  by  All  Gen- 
erations, or  Mary  the  Object  of  Ven- 
eration, Confidence  and  Imitation  to  All 
Christians."  He  divides  the  work  into 
two  parts;  in  the  first  and  theoretical  part 
he  develops,  through  twenty  chapters,  the 
proposition  that  Mary  was  made  by  the 
Holy  Trinity  an  object  of  veneration  and 
confidence  to  all  generations;  in  the  sec- 
ond and  practical  part  he  shows  Mary  was 
made  by  the  Holy  Trinity  an  object  of 
imitation  to  all  christians. 

The  divisions,  chapters,  arguments  from 
Holy  Scriptures,  from  the  Holy  Fathers, 
as  witnesses  of  Biblical  and  Traditional 
Doctrine ;  from  comparing  difterent  ver- 
sions of  the  Bible,  and  from  Protestant 
evidence,  are  put  down  with  all  the  order 
and  preciseness  of  a  scholastic  treatise ; 
and  at  the  same  time  the  style  is  such  as 
to  induce  even  an  indifferent  reader  not 
to  lay  down  the  book  until  he  has  finished 
the  chapter,  and  to  take  it  up  again  as 
soon  as  possible  to  peruse  and  study 
another  chapter.*    We  give  a  chapter  en- 


*  The  work  is  published  by  Longmans,  Green 
&  Co.,  London,  and  sold  by  Messrs  Murphy  &  Co., 
Messrs  Kelly,  Plet  &  Co.,  and  Messrs  Sadlier,  all 
of  which  firms  have  an  excellent  selectiou  of  Eng- 
lish catholic  works. 


titled  "Mary  having  freely  and  effica- 
ciously co-operated  in  the  spiritual  wel- 
fare of  mankind,  is  entitled  to  the  special 
gratitude  of  those  who  enjoy  the  benefits 
of  redemption." 

"  The  disregard,  and  even  contempt,  of 
some  for  the  Blessed  Mother  of  God,  goes 
so  far  as  to  represent  her  only  as  a  mere 
physical  instrument  of  the  coming  of  the 
Eternal  Word  among  men,  and  not  as  an 
active  meritorious  element  towards  the 
spiritual  perfection  of  man.  To  overthrow 
such  a  slander  against  our  Blessed  Lady, 
M'e  proceed  to  show  that  Mary  has  greatly 
contributed  to  the  spiritual  welfare  of 
mankind,  especially  by  the  following  acts 
of  her  free  will;  namely,  First,  by  making 
a  vow  unprecedented  and  unheard  of  be- 
fore— a  vow  of  perpetual  virginity — the 
eftects  and  consequences  of  which,  in  re- 
lation to  christian  society,  have  proved 
of  an  immense  and  infinite  value.  Sec- 
ondly, by  spontaneously  giving  her  con- 
sent to  the  embassy  of  the  Holy  Trinity 
to  become  the  Mother  of  the  Son  of  God, 
for  the  rescue  of  fallen  man.  Thirdly,  by 
becoming  by  her  virtue  the  joy  and  con- 
solation of  motherhood.  Fourthly,  by 
bringing  through  her  humility  God  to 
man.  Fifthly,  by  accepting  willingly  and 
magnanimously  all  the  conditions,  how- 
ever rigorous  and  painful,  inherent  in  her 
Divine  maternity. 

"  I.  Mary,  although  unaware  of  having 
been  chosen  by  Providence  to  be  the  Moth- 
er of  the  future  Redeemer,  acted  in  antici- 
pation of  such  a  marvellous  manifestation, 
in  perfect  conformity  to  all  the  designs  of 
the  Most  Holy  Trinity  directed  to  this  sal- 
utary end.  Like  the  fathers  and  saints  of 
the  Old  Testament,  Mary  was  continually 


50 


AVE     MAR4A 


H 


asking  from  God  with  the  most  ardent 
desire,  the  abbreviation  of  time  for  the 
rescue  of  the  human  race  from  the  slavery 
of  sin  and  Satan.  '  Drop  down  dew,  ye 
heavens,  from  above :  and  let  the  clouds 
rain  the  just  one  ;  let  the  earth  be  opened 
and  bud  forth  a  Saviour'  (Isaiah  xlv,  8). 
According  to  venerable  and  authentic  tra- 
dition, Mary,  being  a  little  child,  dedi- 
cated herself  to  God  in  the  Temple,  and 
for  the  space  of  about  eleven  years  re- 
mained there  in  the  exercise  of  a  saintly 
life.  While  living  and  growing  up  in  the 
shadow  of  the  house  of  God,  Mary  filled  it 
with  the  perfume  of  the  most  odoriferous 
virtues.  What  obedience,  what  humility, 
what  »  spirit  of  prayer,  what  love  of  God 
and  her  neighbor!  In  particular,  what 
faith,  generosity,  and  courage  did  Mary 
show  when  overcoming  all  human  respect, 
and  the  shame  which  sterility  would  have 
caused  her  in  public  opinion,  she  made 
the  solemn  vow  to  God  of  her  perpetual 
virginity  !  Earth  and  Paradise  are  aston- 
ished at  such  an  event  by  which  she  unin- 
tentionally fitted  herself  for  the  high  oflice 
of  Mother  of  the  Son  of  God,  who  accord- 
ing to  the  divine  decree  should  be  con- 
ceived and  born  of  a  virgin-mother.  Mary, 
for  reasons  elsewhere  explained,  was  mar- 
ried to  Joseph,  who  for  his  pure  and  vir- 
tuous life  was  above  all  qualified  to  be 
the  guardian  of  her  virginity.  Hence  St. 
Augustine  (de  Oper.  Monachor.  lib.  vii, 
Oper.  t.  vi,  p.  560,  Migne),  speaking  of 
St.  Joseph,  says :  '  That  man  who  was 
just,  and  had  been  elected  to  be  the  wit- 
ness of  the  perpetual  conjugal  virginity, 
and  to  whom  was  married  the  Virgin 
Mary,  who  brought  forth  Christ,  was  a 
carpenter.'  And  the  same  holy  father 
(Serm.  ccxxvi,  Oper.  t.  v,  p.  1096,  Migne) 
adds :  '  Mary  being  determined  to  keep 
virginity,  her  spouse  was  not  a  robber,  but 
a  guardian  of  her  virginal  chastity;  nay, 
he  was  not  a  guardian  because  it  was  God 
that  took  pare  of  her,  but  ho  was  rather 
the  witness  of  her  virginal  integrity.' 

"  IJer  vow  of  perpetual  virginity,  be- 
sides ^tting  her  for  that  most  high  ^nd 
unparalleled  dignity,   conferred  a  great 


blessing  on  ohristiani-ty.  It  must  be  re- 
membered that  Jesus  Christ  came  into 
this  world  not  only  to  be  our  Redeemer, 
but  also  to  be  our  model  and  example  of 
all  virtues.  Among  the  rest.  He  came  to 
introduce  the  love  of  virginal  chastity, 
and  to  exhibit  to  mankind  a  blessing  of 
which  they  had  no  idea  (Matt,  xix,  12). 
'  There  are  eunuchs  who  have  made  them- 
selves eunuchs  for  gaining  the  kingdom 
of  Heaven.'  His  example,  indeed,  should 
have  been  enough  to  induce  christians  to 
follow  Him  in  this  angelical  and  divine 
virtue.  However,  as  He  was  by  nature 
virgin  and  impeccable,  the  carnal  man 
could  find  a  pretext  for  not  following  it. 
Therefore,  in  order  to  remove  objections  to- 
wards embracing  and  cultivating  this  vir- 
tue, Mary  in  her  capacity  of  a  mere  creature 
was  chosen  by  Providence  to  give  to  all 
christian  generations  a  free,  spontaneous, 
and  meritorious  example  of  perpetual  vir- 
ginal continency.  Hence,  Saint  Ephrem 
(Select  Works,  Morris,  Oxford,  1846,  p. 
53),  turning  to  Jesus  Christ,  exclaims: 
'  In  her  virginity  Eve  put  on  the  leaves  ol 
shame.  Thy  Mother  put  on  the  garment 
of  glory  that  suflSceth  for  all.'  And  the 
same  holy  father  calls  Mary  *  the  crown 
of  the  virgins.'  Saint  Jerome  (Ep.  xxii, 
ad  Eustochium,  Oper.  t.  i,  p.  408,  Migne) 
says:  'When  the  Virgin  conceived  in  her 
womb  and  brought  forth  an  Infant  to  us, 
then  malediction  ceased.  Death  through 
Eve,  life  through  Mary.  Hence  the  gift 
of  virginity  plentifully  shone  in  women, 
because  it  began  in  a  woman.  As  soon 
as  the  Son  of  God  came  into  this  world, 
He  instituted  a  new  family,  so  that  He 
who  is  adored  by  the  angels  in  heaven, 
might  have  angels  also  upon  earth.'  The 
same  (Ep.  xlviii,  ad  Pammac.  Oper.  t.  i,  p. 
510,  Migne)  says:  *  Christ  a  virgin,  Mary 
a  virgin,  consecrated  the  principles  of  vir- 
ginity.' And  again  (adv.  Jovin.  lib.  i, 
Oper.  t.  ii,  p.  254,  Migne),  speaking  of 
Mary,  says :  '  This  perpetual  Virgin  is  the 
mother  of  a  large  family  of  virgins.'  St. 
Epiphanius  (Ilier.  Ixx,  5,  24)  says:  'The 
Blessed  Virgin  is  the  head  of  the  holy 
children  of  virginity.'     St.  Ambrose  (de 


•rr 


AVE      MARIA. 


61 


1 


Instit.  Virg.  o.  v,  p.  314,  edit.  Migne) 
Bays:  *  Mary  brought  to  us  the  impulse  to 
virginity.  She  raised  the  banner  of  holy 
virginity,  and  erected  to  Christ  a  pious 
standard  of  undefiled  integrity.  By  the 
example  of  Holy  Mary  all  are  called  to 
follow  her  virginity.'  And  St.  Augustine 
(Serm.  li,  c.  xvi,  Oper.  tom.  v,  par.  i,  p. 
348,  Migne)  says:  *  Th«  dignity  of  vir- 
ginity began  from  the  Mother  of  God.' 
St.  Cyril  of  Alexandria  (Homil.  contra 
Nest.),  turning  to  the  Blessed  Virgin, 
says:  'Thou  art  the  crown  of  virginity.' 
Mary  therefore  is  the  elected  type,  and 
perfect  model  of  this  most  noble  and  beau- 
tiful virtue  of  the  christian  law.  She  is 
the  first  who  professed  it  by  vow,  and  it 
was  through  her  that  it  is  introduced  into 
the  Church  of  Christ.  From  her  as  from 
a  vase  of  celestial  flowers,  the  rich  odor 
of  this  angelical  virtue  began  to  be  dif- 
fused through  the  atmosphere  of  this  most 
corrupt  world;  and  like  a  heavenly  breeze 
dispersing  the  impure  exhalations  of  the 
earth,  has  restored  by  God's  grace  the 
cleanliness  and  purity  of  the  human  heart. 
It  has  been  placed  at  the  head  of  virtues, 
and  a  holocaust — the  purest  and  most 
perfect  that  earth  could  offer  to  heaven, 
or  man  to  God — has  been  accomplished  in 
the  sacrifice  of  unsullied  virginal  purity, 
which  was  offered  to  the  Son  of  the  Virgin. 
"The  mission  of  Mary  soon  became 
most  fruitful.  First  of  all  St.  Jerome  re- 
marks that  St.  Joseph  was  virgin  on  ac- 
count of  Mary,  saying  (adv.  Elvid.  Oper. 
tom.  ii,  p.  203,  Migne):  'You  say  that 
Mary  did  not  keep  her  virginity;  but  I 
not  only  maintain  it,  but  moreover  say 
that  Joseph  himself  was  virgin  through 
Mary;  so  that  from  a  virginal  marriage 
should  be  born  a  virgin  son.  For,  if  no 
suspicion  of  fornication  may  be  enter- 
tained of  such  a  holy  man,  and  no  record 
be  found  of  his  having  another  wife,  and 
it  being  known  that  he  was  the  guardian 
rather  than  the  husband  of  Mary,  it  follows 
that  he  remained  ever  virgin  with  Mary, 
and  so  he  deserved  to  be  called  the  father 
of  the  Lord.'  After  Joseph  the  Hierarchy 
of  the  Church  was  the  first  to  take  up  and 


follow  the  standard  of  perpetual  celibacy 
created  by  Mary.  Popes,  bishops,  priests 
soon  belonged  to  this  glorious  train  of 
virgins.  Their  example  has  been  followed 
by  the  fervent  laity  of  both  sexes,  and  of 
all  classes  and  states  in  society,  from  the 
plebeian  order  to  the  senatorial  and  im- 
perial dignity.  Thousands  of  thousands 
of  virgins  of  both  sexes,  like  white  hya- 
cinths in  a  garden,  adorned  and  filled  with 
their  odor  the  Church  of  God.  Nay,  it 
was  after  the  model  of  Mary  that  number- 
less christians,  in  order  to  preserve  the 
precious  lily  of  purity,  valiantly  gave  up 
their  lives  to  death  amidst  the  most  fright- 
ful and  excruciating  tortures.  Out  of 
this  countless  army  of  virgin-martyrs,  we 
may  mention  in  Rome,  6S.  Agnes,  Cecilia, 
Doraitilla,  Prisea,  Barbara,  Pretonilla, 
etc.;  in  Sicily,  Agatha;  in  Syracuse, 
Lucy;  in  Alexandria,  Catherine;  in  Nico- 
media,  Euphemia;  in  Antioch,  Margaret; 
in  Licon  ia,  Julia.  These,  and  many  others 
in  all  p.arts  of  the  christian  world,  chose 
to  lose  their  fortunes,  their  estates,  their 
possessions,  their  friends — nay,  life  itself 
— rather  than  lose  their  virginity.  In 
perusing  the  authentic  acts  of  their  mar- 
tj'rdom,  one  is  struck  at  seeing  their 
courage  and  constancy  in  the  midst  of  ex- 
cruciating sufferings.  A  philosophy  per- 
fectly divine  is  admired  in  their  answers 
to  tyrants.  A  beautiful  mixture  of  cheer- 
fulness and  majesty  is  found  in  their  be- 
havior; a  calm  joy  beams  in  their  faces 
and  hearts.  Susannah,  a  Roman  lady  of 
the  highest  nobility,  to  preserve  inviolate 
her  virginity,  refused  marriage  with  Gal- 
erius  Maximian,  son  of  the  Emperor  Dio- 
cletian, and  courageously  met  martyrdom. 
Flavia  Domitilla,  likewise  a  Roman  virgin, 
and  niece  to  the  two  Roman  Emperors 
Titus  and  Domitian,  refused  also  to  marry 
the  son  of  the  Consul  Aurelius,  and  chose 
rather  to  be  consumed  by  fire.  Puden- 
tiana  and  Praxedes,  daughters  of  Puden- 
tius,  a  Roman  senator,  after  the  death  of 
their  father  bestowed  their  patrimony  upon 
the  poor,  and  lived  in  perpetual  virginity 
until  their  death.  Such  are  the  beautiful 
fruits  of  virginal  purity  brought  by  Mary. 


62 


AVE     MARIA 


"  But  this  is  not  all.  Let  the  reader 
look  throughout  the  world,  and  see  the 
numerous  institutions  which  have  arisen 
in  the  various  ages  of  Christianity  for  the 
benefit  of  mankind.  Religious  orders  of 
both  sexes,  hospitals,  orphanages,  and 
many  other  charitable  establishments  for 
the  relief  of  suffering  humanity,  are  all 
the  works  of  christian  celibacy.  What 
is  the  secret  that  gives  to  the  catholic 
priesthood  the  courage  to  spend  their  lives 
in  the  care  of  Souls?  What  is  it  thai 
makes  them  brave  all  dangers,  by  land 
and  sea,  in  order  to  impart  the  light  of 
the  true  faith  to  pagan  and  idolatrous 
nations?  What  is  it  that  causes  them  not 
to  abandon  their  flocks,  even  in  times  of 
the  greatest  danger?  What  is  it  that 
gives  them  courage  to  face  death?  Is  it 
not  their  engagement  of  imitating  Mary 
by  professing  celibacy?  To  give  a  very 
recent  instance  of  this,  we  might  produce 
several  newspapers,  containing  the  re- 
ports of  the  cholera,  which  invaded  the 
Pontifical  States  in  August  1867,  and  the 
works  of  charity  and  self-abnegation  and 
zeal  displayed,  not  only  by  the  lower 
priesthood  but  also  by  the  high  digni- 
taries of  the  Church  on  that  dreadful 
occasion.  For  all  which,  we  quote  some 
extracts  from  the  letter  written  by  the 
Bishop  of  Orleans,  reported  in  the  Italian 
journal,  *  Catholic  Unity,''  of  August  29, 
1867,  and  in  the  '  Weekly  Megister,''  Lon- 
don journal,  August  26,  1867.  In  this 
journal  it  is  related  that  the  Pope,  after 
all  the  fatigues  endured  on  the  occasion 
of  the  centenary  of  St.  Peter,  was  advised 
to  leave  Rome  for  a  little,  and  enjoy  the 
fresh  air  of  the  Castel  Gondolfo.  How- 
ever, on  the  point  of  leaving  Rome,  His 
Holiness  being  informed  that  the  cholera 
had  made  its  appearance  in  town,  he  sus- 
pended his  departure  and  remained  in 
Home,  'because,'  he  said,  '  it  is  not  right 
that  I  should  abandon  my  children  at  a 
time  when  my  presence  may  be  needful.' 
While  the  Pope  was  taking  all  possible 
measures  to  prevent  the  spread  of  the 
malady,  some  tidings  reached  town  that 
the  cholera  was  raging  furiously  in  Al- 


bano,  so  that  a  great  panic  had  seized  the 
population.  Cardinal  Altieri,  of  a  noble 
family  of  Rome,  being  the  Bishop  of 
Albano,  but  jresiding  at  Rome,  did  not 
lose  a  moment  i-n  repairing  to  Albano, 
after  collecting  together  all  the  money  he 
could  find  in  his  palace,  and  taking  with 
him  such  physicians  and  apothecaries  as 
consented  to  go  with  him.  On  his  arrival 
at  the  gates  of  the  town,  he  descended  from 
his  carriage,  and  without  going  to  hib 
palace,  he  went  straight  to  visit  the  sick, 
passing  from  house  to  house,  from  one 
street  to  another,  giving  assistance  to  all. 
His  presence  gave  courage  to  the  sick,  as 
well  as  to  the  whole  city.  For  three  days 
and  nights  did  this  great  cardinal  labor 
without  rest,  without  intermission,  and 
almost  without  food,  visiting  the  sick,  and 
administering  the  sacraments  to  the  dy- 
ing, and  distributing  alms  to  the  poor. 
At  the  expiration  of  that  time,  the  pesti- 
lence seized  himself,  and  he  died  the  vic- 
tim of  his  own  charity,  comforted  by  his 
conscience  in  having  done  his  duty.  When 
he  fell  sick,  it  was  found  that  the  episco- 
pal palace  had  been  so  stripped  by  him 
in  the  three  awful  days,  for  administering 
to  the  wants  of  the  poor,  that  there  was 
neither  bedding  nor  other  necessaries  for 
the  cardinal  himself.  But  the  gi*eat 
Bishop  of  Albano  had  two  more  cardinals, 
who  by  chance  were  there,  and  who,  in- 
stead of  flying  away  with  the  others, 
wished  to  remain  there  to  be  companions 
to  him  in  assisting  the  sick  both  spirit- 
ually and  corporally,  They  were  Cardinal 
di  Pietro  and  Cardinal  Sacconi ;  the  last 
was  assistant  to  Cardinal  Altieri  at  his 
death,  while  ^the  former  continued  to  as- 
sist the  sick.  Besides  the  three  cardinals, 
there  came  from  Rome  to  Albano  a  num- 
ber of  religious  of  both  sexes,  and  among 
them  the  Jesuits  and  Capuchins,  with 
forty-five  Zouave  soldiers,  who  acted  with 
great  zeal  in  the  assistance  of  the  sick 
and  in  the  burying  of  the  dead.  Such  is 
the  courage  that  christian  celibacy,  intro- 
duced by  Mary,  gives  to  all  classes  of 
society  from  the  Pope  to  the  soldier  1" 

[to   be    CONTIifUBD.] 


AVE      MARIA. 


53 


SaiDt  Paala.* 

[concluded.] 

She  was  now  twenty,  and  when  she  rose 
from  that  deadly  sickness  the  supernatu- 
ral beauty  c:mie  forth  wiiich  had  lain  hid- 
den under  the  levity  of  her  life.  "She 
courageously  raised  the  standard  of  the 
Cross  of  Christ,  grieving  less  that  she  was 
a  widow  than  that  she  was  no  longer  a 
virgin.  She  who  had  passed  long  hours 
in  adorning  herself  before  her  mirror 
sought  henceforth  for  her  only  mirror  the 
face  of  God,  beholding,  lik«  the  Apostle, 
the  unveiled  glory  of  His  countenance." 

That  ardent  spirit  having  once  entered 
the  path  of  the  generous  love  of  God, 
reached  the  summit  at  a  bound.  Her  in- 
tellect and  her  heart  unfolded  with  mar- 
vellous rapidity,  and  in  the  few  months 
which  were  left  for  her  to  spend  on  earth 
she  attiiined  a  degree  of  perfection  which 
placed  her  side  by  side  with  her  holy 
mother  and  the  saintly  Eustochium,  who, 
to  Paula's  joy  and  the  intense  disgust  of 
her  pagan  kindred,  had  consecrated  the 
early  freshness  of  her  virginal  life  to  God. 
When  a  return  of  fever  again  brought 
Blesilla  to  the  gates  of  death,  there  was 
but  one  regret  in  that  young  and  ardent 
heart.  "  O,  pray  for  me  to  the  Lord  Jesus 
to  have  compassion  on  my  soul,"  she  said 
to  those  who  stood  around  her  bed,  "  since 
I  am  dying  without  having  been  able  to 
accomplish  what  it  was  in  my  heart  to  do 
for  Him." 

The  death  of  Blesilla  wrung  Paula's 
heart  with  an  anguish  no  less  intense  than 
that  which  had  brought  her  to  the  gates 
of  the  grave  on  the  loss  of  her  husband. 
All  the  mingled  tenderneas  and  sternness 
of  St.  Jerome  was  needed  to  arouse  her 
from  her  lethargy  of  grief. 

Soon  after  this  blow  had  fallen  upon 
her,  Paula  prepared  for  her  long-desired 
pilgrimage  to  the  East.  Blesilla,  who  was 
to  have  accompanied  her,  had  attained  her 


•  DuBuor  Rkvibw,  Oct  1868. 


rest  in  the  heavenly  JeruKalera,  and  her 
Roman  home  was  now  dark  and  dreary  to 
the  bereaved  mother.  Paulina,  her  second 
daughter,  was  married  to  St.  Jerome's  no- 
.ble  friend  Painmachius,  and  liutiiia  was 
also  betrothed.  Toxotius,  still  a  child, 
seems  about  this  time  to  have  received 
.baptism,  which,  by  the  influence  of  his 
pagan  relations,  had  been  hitherto  defer- 
red. Paula,  therefore,  could  leave  her 
younger  children  without  anxiety  under 
the  care  of  Pammachius  and  Marcella,  to 
whose  young  cousin,  Laeta,  Toxotius  was 
betrothed.  With  Eustochium  as  her  in- 
separable companion,  she  left  Rome  for 
Palestine,  where,  for  the  children  whom 
she  had  left  behind,  God  was  to  make  her 
the  joyful  mother  of  an  innumerable  com- 
pany of  consecrated  virgins. 

Paula  was  accompanied  by  the  devout 
women  who  had  served  God  together  with 
her  in  her  Roman  home,  many  of  them  no- 
ble ladies  like  herself,  others  liberated 
slaves,  whom  from  her  servants  she  had 
made  her  sisters. 

St.  Jerome,  who  had  left  a  few  months 
before  her,  carried  with  him  many  devo- 
ted friends  who  had  resolved  to  share  his 
life  and  his  work.  A  storm  of  persecu- 
tion had  been  raised  against  him  by  the 
pagan  and  worldly  party  in  Rome,  and 
the  breath  of  calumny  had  not  spared  the 
fair  fame  of  Paula  herself  He  shook  the 
dust  from  his  feet,  and  departed  with  his 
heart  full  of  the  great  biblical  labors 
which  were  to  occupy  the  remainder  of 
his  days. 

St.  Paula  and  her  companions  having 
touched  at  Cyprus  to  visit  her  venerable 
friend  St.  Epiphanins,  found  St.  Jerome 
and  his  company  waiting  to  receive  them 
at  Antioch  in  the  house  of  the  Bishop 
Paulinus.  We  cannot  trace  the  footsteps 
of  her  pilgrimage  through  Palestine,  nor 
follow  her  in  her  visit  to  the  solitaries  of 
Egypt,  from  whom  she  received  the  rule 
of  life  on  which  her  houses  were  to  be 
formed.  Her  journey  ings  occupied  nearly 
a  year.  She  visited  Melania,  who  had 
built  her  convent  at  Jerusalem,  hard  by 
the   church  of  the  Ascension.     But  un- 


=J 


54: 


AVE      MARIA 


speakably  sacred  as  was  to  Paula  every 
spot  in  the  Holy  City,  it  was  the  cave  of 
Bethlehem  that  took  fullest  possession  of 
her  heart.  "Tbis,"  »aid  she  to  St.  Je- 
rome, as  she  knelt  before  the  crib  of  the 
infant  Saviour,  ",this  shall  be  my  resting- 
place,  for  it  ^as  the  cradle  of  my  God. 
Here  will  I  dwell,  because  the  Lord  bath 
chosen  it  for  Himself;  here  shall  my  soul 
live  for  Ilim."  She  stopped,  and  fixing 
ber  eyes  on  Eustochium,  she  finished  the 
verse ;  '*  and  here  shall  my  seed  serve 
Hira."  This  was  no  vain  fancy;  no  pass- 
ing emotion.  When  she  bad  finished  her 
pilgrimage,  Paula  returned  to  Bethlehem 
never  to  leave  it  again ;  there  she  and 
Eustocbium  lived  and  died.  There  Je- 
rome ended  his  full  and  glorious  days. 
The  pilgrim  who  visits  Bethlehem  sees  at 
a  few  paces  from  the  grotto  of  the  Na- 
tivity another  which  l)oars  the  name  of 
St.  Jerome,  and  two  sepulchres,  in  one  of 
which  rest  the  remains  of  Paula  and  Eus- 
tocbium, in  the  other  the  relics  of  their 
holy  friend. 

A  fresh  sorrow  greeted  Paula's  return 
to  Bethlehem  in  the  tidings  of  the  death 
of  her  youngest  daughter  Rufina,  whom 
she  bad  left  at  Rome  on  the  eve  of  a 
happy  marriage,  which  was  never  to  be 
accomplished.  Where  could  the  bereaved 
mother  find  sweeter  consolation  than  be- 
side the  manger  where  the  mother  of  sor- 
rows had  laid  her  Divine  Child?  She  set 
herself  now  to  the  task  which  had  brought 
her  to  Palestine,  and  laid  the  foundation 
of  two  monasteries,  one  for  the  widows 
and  virgins  who  had  followed  her  from 
Rome,  the  other  for  Jerome  and  bis 
friends;  and  close  by  the  church  a  hos- 
pice for  pilgrims,  a  shelter  most  urgently 
needed  for  the  multitudes  that  flocked  to 
the  holy  places.  "At  least,"  said  she  to 
St.  Jerome,  "  if  Mary  and  Joseph  were  to 
come  back  to  Bethlehem,  they  would  find 
a  place  to  receive  them."* 

St.  Jerome  has  left  us  a  record  of  the 
life  led  by  Paula  and  her  companions  un- 


•  The  convent  of  the  Franciscan  Fathers  now 
occupies  the  site  of  this  hospice. 


der  the  primitive  rule  of  St.  Pacomius. 
After  the  example  of  the  houses  she  had 
visited  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile,  she  di- 
vided her  daughters  into  three  groups, 
each  under  its  own  abbess  or  mother. 
They  labored  and  ate  apart,  bnt  assembled 
for  prayer  in  their  common  chapel  at  tbe 
joyful  sound  of  the  Alleluia,  which  sum- 
moned them  in  the  early  morning,  at  tbe 
third,  sixth,  and  ninth  hour,  and  again  in 
the  evening,  to  chant  the  Psalms;  and  in 
the  silence  of  tbe  night  their  voices  again 
poured  forth  tbe  glorious  hymns  of  the 
prophet  of  Bethlehem.  The  whole  Psal- 
ter was  recited  daily.  Every  sister  was 
obliged  to  know  it  by  heart,  and,  more- 
over, to  learn  daily  some  other  portion  of 
tbe  Holy  Scripture.  On  Sunday  the  whole 
community,  each  division  with  the  abbess 
at  its  head,  went  to  tbe  church  of  Beth- 
lehem, for  the  Holy  Sacrifice  was  not  of- 
fered in  the  chapels  of  the  monasteries. 
Jerome  in  his  profound  humility  never 
ventured  to  say  Mass,  and  his  only  priestly 
companion  shrank  from  doing  what  he 
feared  to  undertake.  On  their  return  from 
the  church,  the  work  for  the  following 
week  was  distributed. 

In  ber  government  Paula  combined  Ro- 
man firmness  with  the  tenderest  christian 
love.  The  first  in  prayer,  penance,  and  la- 
borious work ;  in  all  beside  she  was  tbe 
last  and  lowest  in  tbe  community.  In 
short,  all  tbe  virtues  and  graces  which 
have  sanctified  and  glorified  the  religious 
life  from  its  first  infancy  until  now,  sprang 
up  in  full  perfection  under  the  wisdom  of 
her  rule  and  the  light  of  her  example. 
The  labor  which  alternated  with  prayer 
and  psalmody  in  the  monasteries  of  Beth- 
lehem was  not  restricted  to  the  labor  of 
the  hands.  A  vigorous  intellectual  activ- 
ity was  fostered  by  St.  Paula  under  the 
guidance  of  St.  Jerome.  One  of  her  chief 
cares  was  to  provide  herself  and  her  daugh- 
ters with  book«.  At  her  request  St.  Je- 
rome interrupted  his  learned  labors  to 
translate  for  them  the  homilies  of  Origen 
on  St.  Luke,  and  to  write  the  lives  of  the 
great  ascetic  St.  Hilarion,  the  master  of 
St.  Epiphanius,  and  of  St.  Paul,  the  first 


AVE     MATtlA. 


hemiit.  Paula  and  Eustochium,  "  learned 
women  and  studioas  women,"  after  Mgr. 
Dui)anlou})'8  own  heart,  turned  their  He- 
brew studies  to  account  by  copying  for  St. 
Jerome  the  version  of  the  Psalms  which 
he  had  revised  for  their  use.  To  their  in- 
telligent and  affectionate  sympathy  with 
his  labors  the  Church  perhaps  owes  in 
great  measure  her  authorized  version  of 
the  Holy  Scripture,  which  was  accom- 
plished, book  by  book,  at  their  earnest 
entreaty,  and  his  commentaries  on  the 
Old  and  New  Testament.  The  vexatious 
assaults  of  his  adversaries  compelled  Je- 
rome to  work  sword  in  hand.  More  than 
once  he  was  tempted  to  lay  aside  his  pen ; 
but  he  trusted  in  the  efficacy  of  those  wo- 
raen>  prayers,  and  was  not  ashamed  to 
dedicate  to  them  works  in  which  they  had 
borne  so  large  a  share.  "There  are  some," 
he  writes,  "  O  Paula  and  Estoohium,  who 
take  offence  at  seeing  your  names  at  the 
beginning  of  my  works.  They  know  not, 
I  suppose,  that  when  Barac  trembled  Debo- 
rah saved  Israel."  And  after  a  long  list 
of  gloriotis  women  from  the  Old  and  New 
Testament,  and  even  from  pagan  history, 
he  thus  concludes :  "  Was  it  not  to  women 
that  our  Lord  first  appeared  after  His  res- 
urrection, and  made  mcu  blush  not  to  have 
sought  Him  whom  women  found?" 

Meantime  the  hand  of  God  still  pressed 
heavily  upon  Paula  in  the  deaths  of  the 
two  children  who  remained  to  her  at  Rome. 
Paulina  died  childless,  having  scarcely  at- 
tained middle  age,  and  Toxotius  in  the 
flower  of  his  youth,  leaving  behind  him 
an  infant  daughter,  named  after  her  grand- 
mother, Paula.  His  young  widow,  Lteta, 
devoted  herself  to  an  ascetic  life  in  Rome, 
and  sent  her  child  to  be  brought  up  (in 
St.  Jerome's  words)  "  in  the  desert  and  the 
temple,"  by  her  holy  grandmother,  and 
aunt.  Paula  did  not  long  survive  this  last 
bereavement.  "  In  sorrow,  suffering,  and 
temptation,"  says  St.  Jerome,  "she  had 
this  song  perpetually  in  her  mouth: — 
Quare  tristis  es,  anima  mea,  et  quare  con- 
turbas  me?  Spero  in  Deo.  She  was  soon 
to  finish  the  canticle  in  the  bosom  of  her 
God.     The  work  of  grace  was  perfected. 


She  seemed  already  to  behold  heaven 
opened  before  her.  As  Eustochium  and 
the  other  pious  sisters  watched  by  h«r  bed 
of  pain,  they  heard  the  continual  murmur 
of  her  favorite  Psalms ^  'Lord,  I  have 
loved  the  beauty  of  Thy  house  and  the 
place  where  Thy  glorj'  dwelleth.'  *  I  have 
chosen  to  be  little  in  the  house  of  my  God 
rather  than  to  dwell  in  the  tentw  of  sin- 
ners.'" The  Bishop  of  Jerusalem  and  all 
the  bishops  of  Palestine,  with  a  great 
number  of  priests,  monks,  and  virgins, 
had  assembled  to  be  present  at  that  holy 
death;  but  Paula,  absorbed  in  God,  nei- 
ther saw  or  beard  anything  that  passed 
around  her.  Only  by  a  slight  movement 
of  her  lips  they  saw  that  she  was  convers- 
ing sweetly  with  God.  They  asked  her 
some  questions,  but  she  made  no  reply. 
Then  Jerome  drew  near  and  asked  her  why 
she  spoke  not,  and  whether  anything 
troubled  her.  She  answered  in  Greek, 
"O  no,  no  trouble,  but  perfect  peace." 
Then  she  closed  her  eyes,  as  if  she  would 
look  no  more  upon  any  sight  of  earth. 
Suddenly  she  opened  them  again;  a  bril« 
liant  light  shone  on  her  face,  as  if  re- 
flected from  some  heavenly  vision.  She 
had  seen  her  Divine  Spouse,  and  heard 
His  voice  calling,  "Arise,  come,  my  beau- 
tiful one,  for  the  winter  is  past;"  for  she 
made  answer,  "The  flowers  are  seen  in 
our  land,  the  time  to  gather  them  is  come," 
and  '  I  believe  that  I  shall  see  the  good 
things  of  the  Lord  in  the  land  of  the  liv- 
ing." With  these  words  on  her  lips  she 
departed  to  Him. 

Paula  left  to  her  beloved  child,  instead 
of  the  vast  revenues  of  her  princely  house, 
the  inheritance  of  her  poverty  and  the 
blessed  burden  of  her  monasteries  and 
works  of  charity,  with  the  faith  in  God's 
Providence,  which  was  their  only  endow- 
ment. For  twenty  years  more  Eustochium 
nobly  sustained  it,  and  then  she  was  laid 
to  rest  beside  her  blessed  mother,  leaving 
her  niece,  the  younger  Paula,  at  the  age 
of  nineteen,  to  carry  on  their  works,  and 
to  close  the  eyes  of  St.  Jerome,  who  died 
only  a  year  after  her  decease.  He  was 
laid  beside  Paula  and  Eustochium,  in  the 


5Q 


AVE     MARIA 


cave  which  still  bears  the  name  of  the 
"Oratory  of  St.  Jerome."  Paula  the 
younger  died  a«  she  had  lived,  in  the  tem- 
ple attd  the  desert.  The  triumph  of  the 
Scipios,  the  Emilii,  and  the  Julii,  had  been 
crowned  by  the  aureolee  of  three  geuera- 
tioDB  of  Saints. 


THE  FLEMMIKGS. 


BY   MRS.    ANNA   H.    DORSET. 

[The  foDowing  narrative  is  founded  strictly  on 
fact ;  the  events,  which  illustrate  so  strongly  and 
wonderfully  the  goodness  of  Almighty  God,  really 
happened  some  forty  years  ago  in  New  England.] 


CHAPTER  I. 

Th«    old    "  IIomestrad,"    axd    its 
occup.vnts. 

It  was  a  wild  and  bitter  night  even  for 
that  region,  where  the  Ossipee  mountains 
dip  their  feet  into  the  waters  of  that  beau- 
tiful Lake,  which  the  red  man,  with  his 
higher  appreciation  of  nature,  called  Win- 
nipiseoffee,  the  smile  of  the  Great  Spirit; 
a  night  so  stormy  and  cold  that  not  a 
living  thing  was  unhoused,  far  or  near, 
either  on  the  broad  farm-steads  which 
lay  upon  the  sloping  lands  between  the 
mountains,  or  around  the  rude  log  huts 
perched  like  eyries  on  their  rugged  sides. 
Only  the  wild  creatures  driven  down  from 
the  pathless  forests  of  the  mountain  ranges 
beyond,  by  cold  and  hunger,  nearer  to- 
wards the  habitations  of  men,  were  abroad; 
and  perhaps  some  luckless  traveller  who 
belated  on  his  journey,  had  lost  his  way 
among  the  drifts.  Since  morning  the 
snow  had  been  steadily  falling,  until  not 
even  the  bleached  head  of  Chocorua  could 
be  seen  as  the  day  faded  into  the  white- 
ness of  the  storm,  and  both  were  wrapped 
together  in  the  blackness  of  the  Avild 
night.  Gusts  of  wind  swept  down  through 
the  mountain  gorges  with  a  blending  of 
fierce,  shrill  sounds,  as  if  the  spirits  of 
ten  thousand  Ind^n  warriors  were  abroad 


on  the  storm,  mingling  their  savage  war- 
whoops  and  death  songs  together,  while 
like  mound.H  of  tho  mighty  slain,  the  snow- 
drifts rose  liigher  and  higher,  until  every 
by-M'ay  and  road  became  impassable. 

But  there,  inside  Wolfert  Flemming's 
great  rambling  farm  house,  there  was 
ruddy  light,  warmth  and  good  cheer. 
That  quaint  old  room  where  he  and  bis 
family  sat  grouped  about  in  the  warm 
glow  of  the  fire-light  would  have  charmed 
the  eye  of  a  Flemish  painter;  and  I  will 
describe  it — not  with  an  idle  purpose— 
with  its  depths  of  shadow,  its  dancing 
lights  and  glowing  warmth.  It  was  » 
large,  low-raftered  room,  at  the  north  end 
of  which  was  a  fire-place  of  enormous 
breadth  and  depth,  whose  sides  and  high 
mantlepiece  were  set  with  pictured  tiles 
representing  goodly  scenes  from  the  Old 
Testament,  while  upon  the  brightly  painted 
hearth  a  pair  of  massive  iron  andirons, 
crowned  with  great  globes  of  burnished 
brass,  were  piled  with  blazing  logs  of 
hickory  and  resinous  pine  which  flamed 
and  crackled  with  a  merry  din,  while  the 
smoke,  ruddy  with  fire,  went  curling  with 
a  soft  roaring  sound  up  the  deep  chim- 
ney as  if  the  thousands  of  sparks  that  it 
carried  into  the  dark  recesses  aloft  were 
golden  bees,  humming  and  swarming  home 
to  their  hives.  On  the  broad  shelves  ar- 
ranged on  one  side  of  the  wall  there  was 
a  great  array  of  white  china ;  and  platters 
and  tankards  of  pewter,  scoured  to  the 
brightness  of  silver,  over  which  the  fire- 
light leaped  and  played  in  many  a  line  of 
crinkled  gold ;  upon  the  oaken  floor,  dark 
and  polished  by  the  feet  of  the  generations 
who  had  trodden  it,  it  danced  and  glim- 
mered ;  upon  the  glass  of  the  small  deep- 
set  windows,  it  flashed  and  glittered 
until  they  looked  like  the  jewelled  win- 
dows of  Alladeen's  palace  ;  up  among  the 
dark  rafters,  it  lit  up  the  old  continental 
muskets  and  swords  ;  the  deer's  head  with 
its  broad  antlers  ;  the  Indian  bows  and 
arrows ;  and  the  festoons  of  sweet  smell- 
ing herbs,  which  were  in  various  ways 
secured  to  them,  until  one  might  have 
thought,  watching  it  flashing  in  and  out, 


AVE     MARIA 


67 


11 


that  1>irds  with  winf]:8  of  flame  were  ttit- 
Uns;  tlirough  the  shadows  under  the  roof; 
and  still  more  brijjhtly  it  dashed  itself 
into  the  antique  beaufet  set  in  an  angle 
of  the  wall,  and  broke  into  a  thousand 
sparkles  on  the  old-fanhioned  pieces  of 
silver,  and  the  odds  and  ends  of  rare  bur- 
nished china — the  precious  heirlooms  of 
the  Flcmmings — which  sat  in  state  be- 
hind the  glass  door,  as  if  this  spot  above 
all  others  was  most  worthy  of  being  glori- 
fied. And  right  bravely  they  gleamed  in 
the  red  dancing  fire-light,  those  antique 
pieces  of  silver  and  those  scraps  of  mar- 
vellous china,  brought  from  the  ends  of 
the  earth  by  the  ancestr'al  Flcmmings, 
some  of  whom  had  sailed  their  stout  ships 
with  the  first  explorers  amongst  the  ice 
floes  of  the  Arctic  seas;  while  others  had 
fought  the  Spaniard  and  burnt  his  forts 
among  the  spice  islands  of  the  Orient. 
Somewhere  about  the  time  that  the  im- 
perishable "  May  Flower "  landed  that 
"  goodlio  companie," — who  afterwards 
proved  how  well  they  had  learnt  the  sci- 
ence of  intolerance  from  the  persecutions 
and  oppressions  they  had  themselves  en- 
dured— on  Plymouth  Rock,  a  Flemming, 
the  last  of  the  European  line,  found  his 
way  with  his  wife  and  household  chattels 
to  the  American  wilderness,  and  pitched 
his  tent  on  the  spot  where  we  find  his  de- 
scendants. In  the  course  of  time  he  built 
his  modest  homestead,  which  consisted  of 
this  low-raftered,  oaken-floored  room  and  a 
smaller  sleeping  apartment.  Those  were 
the  times  when  the  Indians,  taxation  and 
intolerance — sometimes  one,  sometimes 
another,and  sometimes  all  together — made 
the  lines  hard  for  the  dwellers  in  the  land; 
but  he  and  his  brave  sons,  and  their  de- 
scendants after  them,  defended  their  home 
against  savage  violence  and  destruction, 
and  afterwards  through  the  fire  and  blood 
of  seven  years  revolutionary  war  spared 
no  sacrifice  to  serve  their  country,  shrunk 
from  no  toil  to  raise  their  chiltlren  to  a 
better  condition  than  their  own,  and  fill 
their  home  with  every  domestic  comfort 
within  their  reach.  In  that  corner  the 
old  be.iufet  had  been  built  when  the  walls 


of  the  "  homestead "  were  raised,  and 
upon  its  shelves  the  first  American  Flcm- 
mings had  arranged  their  treasures  of  sil- 
ver and  china;  sometimes  hidden  away 
in  times  of  danger,  again  taken  out  and 
burnished  and  set  in  goodly  array  by  fin- 
gers long  since  crumbled  to  dust.  And 
here  Wolfert  Flemming  decreed  they 
should  remain,  although  his  wife  and 
daughters  with  womanly  vanity  and  many 
soft  persuasions  showed  reasons  why  they 
should  be  displayed  in  the  "  best  room  " 
of  the  large  and  new  addition  he  had 
made  to  his  house ;  but  their  special  plead- 
ing availed  nothing,  the  old  heirlooms 
of  his  house  were  to  stay  where  his  fore- 
fathers had  placed  them,  and  here,  with 
the  old  oak  settles  and  the  cliunsy  old 
oak  chairs,  and  the  clumsier  old  oak 
tables,  they  were  shining  and  glistening 
in  the  red  cheery  firelight.  This  room 
was  very  dear  to  the  man's  true  honest 
heart,  for  its  old  associations  as  well  as 
its  new — and  to  the  hearts  of  his  house- 
hold ;  indeed  they  never  used  the  "  new 
house,"  as  they  called  it,  except  on  ex- 
traordinary occasions,  such  as  the  instal- 
lation of  a  new  minister  or  a  "  Fore- 
father's Day,"  or  a  grand  quilting  or 
apple  paring,  or  something  of  that  sort, 
when  all  the  young  folk,  far  and  wide, 
were  invited  to  work,  feast  and  frolic. 
There  was  a  subtle  attraction  in  this 
quaint  room  for  all  the  Flcmmings,  old 
and  young,  a  something  which  made  them 
feel  nearer  and  dearer  to  each  other,  for 
here  each  one  uttered  his  thoughts  with- 
out restraint,  and  with  that  sweet  confi- 
dence in  one  another  which  left  but  small 
occasion  for  any  uncharitableness  or  heart- 
burning. Here  also,  in  plain  and  genuine 
sincerity,  they  admonished  and  reproved 
each  other  with  christianly  spirit,  hold- 
ing up  one  another's  hands,  warming  one 
another's  hearts,  until  the  bonds  that 
bound  them  together  were  stronger  than 
death.  Here  the  weak  sought  the  strong, 
the  sad  of  heart  clung  to  the  hopeful,  and 
the  desponding  came  to  bask  in  the  cheer- 
ful and  wholesome  mirth  of  the  happy; 
here,  from  their  earliest  rtcoUection,  they 


58 


AVE      MARIA 


had  gathered  together,  morning  and  even- 
ing, around  their  father  and  mother,  to 
worship  God  according  to  their  teachings 
and  with  the  genuine  simplicity  of  honest 
hearts  hear  read  the  word  of  God,  which, 
full  of  far-off  mysteries  to  them,  impressed 
their  minds  with  a  noble  love  of  truth, 
spiritual  aspirations  and  a  solemn  rever- 
ence for  religious  things.  Simple  in 
mind  and  heart,  they  accepted  as  true  what 
they  were  taught,  and  lived  justly  accord- 
ing to  the  lights  they  had.  But  the 
Flemmings  took  no  thought  of  analysing 
their  lives,  and  if  any  one  had  said  fothem, 
what  /  have  written  of  them,  they  would 
have  set  him  down  as  a  shiftless  sort  of 
dreamer,  unfit  for  a  useful  work-a-day 
life;  such  an  one  as  they  feared  their 
golden-haired  Reuben  would  be.  They 
were  a  matter-of-fact,  clear-headed  peo- 
ple ;  and  if  a  thought  once  got  into  their 
heads,  and  this  thought  had  fair  play — 
which  it  generally  got  in  their  well  bal- 
anced brains — aaid  lifted  like  a  lever  some 
tangible  principle  into  existence,  there 
was  not  a  Flemming  of  them  all  who 
would  not  have  suffered  martyrdom  in  its 
defence. 

There  they  all  sat,  that  stormy  winter's 
night,  their  comely  honest  faces  fairly 
glorified  by  the  golden  radiance  of  the 
fire,  almost  inclining  one  to  believe  the 
old  Saxon  superstition  that  angels  were 
always  basking  in  the  light  of  a  wood 
fire ;  a  very  truth. 

Eva  and  Hope  Flemming  sat  together, 
their  young  faces  bent  over  wonderful 
blocks  of  patchwork,  a  brilliant  geomet- 
etrical  problem  known  as  "Job's  trouble," 
which  they  were  uniting  with  much  taste, 
while  they  chattered  together  in  an  under- 
tone of  the  quilting  bee  they  would  have 
when  it  was  finished.  Very  fair  and 
comely  were  these  two  daughters  of  the 
house,  in  the  first  flush  of  a  healthy  and 
pure  womanhood :  their  forms  well  de- 
veloped and  symmetrically  rounded ;  their 
features  well  cut  and  handsome ;  their 
teeth  showing  like  pearls  between  their 
red  lips,  and  their  beauty  crowned  by  thick 
suits  of  soft  golden  brown  hair,  which  was 


pushed  back  loose  and  curling  from  Eva's 
rounded  forehead,  but  which  fell  in  smooth 
heavy  bands  on  each  side  of  Hope's  more 
intellectual  brow,  and  was  twisted  to- 
gether in  a  heavy  coil  at  the  back  of  her 
finely  formed  head.  Their  father,  Wolfert 
Flemming,  sat  a  little  apart  from  them, 
at  a  table  upon  which  was  outspread  the 
large  family  Bible,  a  relic  of  early  English 
printing,  for  which  the  savans  and  liter- 
aiy  people  who  sometimes  came  to  spend 
their  holidays  amongst  the  romantic  scen- 
ery of  the  neighborhood,  had  time  and 
again  offered  him  large  sums;  but  no 
money  could  have  purchased  it,  and  no 
inducement  persuade  him  to  part  with  it. 
He  liked  the  looks  of  it,  the  obsolete  spell- 
ing, the  quaint  letters,  the  rude  line  en- 
gravings ;  and  above  all,  the  family  record 
of  his  house  for  generations  back.  The 
book  was  open  at  the  sixth  chapter  of  St. 
John's  Gospel,  and  he  was  reading  to 
himself,  with  a  reverent  but  troubled  look 
upon  his  countenance.  He  was  a  tall 
muscular  man,  broad-shouldered  and  well 
formed,  his  lower  jaw  square  and  firmly 
set,  with  a  cleft  in  the  chin  just  redeem- 
ing his  countenance  from  grimness;  his 
eyebrows  were  dark  and  heavy,  and  over- 
hung a  pair  of  large  intelligent  gray  eyes ; 
his  forehead  broad  and  moderately  high, 
crowned  with  a  full  crop  of  soft  black  hair 
thickly  sprinkled  with  white.  Dressed  in 
a  suit  of  brown  homespun,  which  hung 
loosely  upon  him  without  anything  to  re- 
lieve its  homeliness  of  color  or  style,  ex- 
cept the  exquisite  whiteness  of  his  coarse 
linen  collar,  turned  well  back  from  his 
throat,  and  the  spotless  cuffs  fastened 
around  his  sinewy  wrists  by  a  pair  of  old 
fashioned  gold  sleeve-buttons,  there  was 
yet  in  the  appearance  and  attitude  of  the 
man  a  dignity  and  power  as  remarkable 
as  it  is  ditticult  to  describe.  There  was  a 
vacant  chair  near — one  of  those  prim,  low- 
seated  high-backed  chairs,  rich  in  beading 
and  grotesque  carving,  all  filled  in  with 
fine  cane  work  which  people  who  own 
them  declare,  with  due  solemnity,  were 
brought  over  in  the  "  May  Flower  ;"  but 
the  Flemmings  had   no  such  tradition  of 


AVE     MARIA. 


69 


this  one,  nnd  yet  they  never  doubted  but 
that  it  M'as  brought  in  the  ohl  Puritan 
days  from  Enghmd  by  some  of  the  early 
settlers ;  and  wished  sometimes  that  it 
might  speak  its  own  history,  for  it  may 
have  belonged  to  Miles  Standish  himself. 
Its  origin  however  gave  them  small  anxi- 
ety;  it  was  BO  well  filled  that  their  eyes, 
hearts  and  minds  were  fully  satisfied  when 
its  usual  occupant,  their  little  mother,  was 
throned  upon  it ;  and  had  she  by  any  in- 
exorable event  been  forced  to  vacate  it, 
it  would  never  have  been  used  again,  but 
put  aside  as  a  precious  relic  of  the  best 
wife  and  molher  who  ever  lived.  They  had 
all  of  them  a  very  good  idea  of  relics  in  a 
limited  sense,  and  would  only  have  re- 
garded them  as  superstitious  if  religion 
had  invested  them  with  a  sacred  or  spir- 
itual meaning.  Mrs.  Flemming  had  just 
flitted  from  her  chair,  knitting  in  hand,  to 
see  after  the  welfare  of  a  calf  which  was 
so  unfortunate  as  to  be  born  in  the  mid- 
dle of  a  New  England  winter,  and  about 
which  all  her  motherly  instincts  were 
aroused.  There  was  yet  another  of  the 
family  group  present,  who  sat  leaning 
against  an  angle  of  the  fire-place,  poring 
over  the  pages  of  a  well  worn  book,  while 
the  glow  of  the  yellow  flames  fell  round 
and  upon  him  with  a  radiance  that  brought 
him  out  from  the  dark  back-ground  like 
one  of  those  celestial  figures  one  sees  in 
the  picutres  of  Domeniehino  and  Velas- 
quez. He  was  slight  and  delicately  formed, 
his  forehead  broad  and  serene;  his  eyes 
large,  blue  and  tender;  whilehis  pale  gold- 
en hair,  parted  in  the  middle,  fell  in  soft 
waving  masses  over  his  cheeks  and  neck. 
This  was  Ileuben  Flemming,  the  youngest 
of  the  children,  a  puzzle  and  sweet  tor- 
ment as  well  as  mystery  to  the  strong, 
practical,  wholesome  minds  of  his  kin- 
dred, who  were  utterly  at  a  loss  to  know 
what  he  was  good  for,  because  hard,  ener- 
getic, ceaseless  work  did  not  agree  with 
him,  but  set  him  to  faint  if  he  attempted 
to  do  what  his  sturdy  brother  Nicolas  did, 
or  turn  whito  and  trembling  with  a  strange 
sickness  which  neither  he  nor  they  could 
understand.     But  Reuben  Flemminsr  had 


a  marvellous  energy  for  books;  indeed 
all  of  them  were  fond  of  books,  and  read 
intelligently,  but  with  him  it  was  a  pas- 
sion in  whose  sweet  trances  he  would  lose 
himself  with  utter  forgetfulness  of  his  sur- 
roundings: and  Hope,  who  often  watched 
him  in  those  moods,  declared  that  it  was 
equal  to  seeing  the  rich  glory  of  sunset 
reflected  on  the  haze  of  the  distant  moun- 
tains, to  mark  the  changeful  emotions  of  his 
heart  pictured  on  his  lovely  countenance. 

Mrs.  Flemming  came  in  now  and  brought 
good  news  of  the  calf,  and  also  a  whole- 
some breath  of  chilliness  as  she  fluttered 
around,  and  passing  her  hand  lightly  and 
tenderly  over  her  husband's  head,  leaned 
over  his  shoulder  and  with  a  little  sigh 
whispered:  "  Still  troubled  over  the  text;" 
and  getting  no  answer,  left  him  and  took 
her  seat  upon  her  throne.  A  little  body 
was  Martha  Flemming,  neat,  tidy  and 
alert,  with  a  quick,  shrewd  intelligence  in 
her  fine  black  eyes,  and  an  expression  of 
benevolence  on  her  forehead  which  almost 
belied  the  rather  suspicious  and  vindic- 
tive mouth  whose  thin  lips  and  narrow 
chin  made  strangers  think  that  she  was  a 
hard  one  to  deal  with,  as  she  was,  until 
to  her  clear  thinking  all  that  seemed 
doubtful  in  principle  or  fact  was  made 
clear  to  her. 

"  I  am  thankful,"  she  said,  as  she  set- 
tled herself  and  began  turning  the  heel  of 
her  sock;  "  that  the  last  chore  is  finished. 
The  poor  silly  calf  is  as  comfortable  as 
can  be;  but  I  do  wish  Nick  was  at  home. 
It  is  still  snowing;  indeed  it  falls  thicker 
than  ever." 

"  I  told  you  so,  Hope — I  knew  yesterday 
by  the  white  mists  over  the  mountains 
that  we  should  have  a  good  old  fashioned 
snow  before  long.  I  am  so  glad,"  said 
Eva  with  a  little  laugh. 

"  So  am  I,"  said  Hope ;  "  the  ground  is 
well  frozen,  and  the  sleighing  will  be  per- 
fectly splendid.  I  do  admire  to  see  a 
great  heavy  fall  of  snow  that  covers  up 
fences  and  walls,  and  blocks  one  up  until 
one  has  to  be  dug  out."  Just  then  a  gust 
of  wind  was  hurled  down  from  the  moun- 
tains  with    such    a   roar  and  commotion 


60 


AVE     MARIA 


that  the  house  trembled  at  the  shock, 
while  the  sleet  lashed  the  windows  aud 
walls  with  a  shrill  whistling  sound  that 
rose  and  fell  with  the  wind  like  despair- 
iug  fhrieks.  The  women,  although  accus- 
tomed to  the  wintry  storms  of  that  region, 
had  never  heard  the  like  of  this  before, 
and  let  fall  their  work  and  looked  at  each 
other,  startled  and  pale.  The  boy  Reu- 
ben did  not  hear  the  din;  he  stood  be- 
side Uriel  in  the  sun,  listening  to  the 
cherub  who  sought  knowledge  of  Eden, 
his  soul  thrilling  with  horror,  as  at  the 
angel's  touch  the  beautiful  heaven-clad 
thing  faded  into  the  swart,  defiant,  scowl- 
ing image  of  Lucifer. 

Wolfert  Flemming  lifted  his  head  from 
the  inspired  page,  and  with  an  exalted 
look  exclaimed :  *'  O  ye  cold  and  heat, 
bless  the  Lord  I  O  ye  dews  and  hoarfrost, 
bless  the  Lord  !  O  ye  frost  and  cold,  bless 
the  Lord.  O  ye  ice  and  snow,  bless  the 
Lord;  O  ye  nights  and  days,  bless  the 
Lord.  O  let  the  earth  bless  the  Lord; 
let  it  praise  and  exalt  Him  above  all,  for- 
ever." With  another  man,  this  might 
have  seemed  like  a  dramatic  display,  but 
in  him  it  was  the  spontaneous  outflowing 
of  a  soul  whose  thoughts  dwelt  habitually 
on  the  infinite  attributes  of  the  Supreme 
Being,  and  who  searched  the  Scriptures 
daily,  hoping  to  find  in  them — nay,  believ- 
ing that  he  had — the  words  of  eternal  life. 

"  I  guess  father,"  said  Mrs.  Flemming 
after  a  little  pause:  "that  we  ought  to 
be  thankful  that  everything  is  housed. 
There's  no  such  apples,  potatoes,  or  pump- 
kins either,  around  as  ours.  I'm  glad  to 
know  they  are  safe  ;  but,  deary  me  !  I  do 
wonder  where  Nick  can  be  this  wild  night?" 
[to  be  continued.] 


<  «  ♦  «  » 


The  Fiery  Cross. — The  large  cross  on 
St.  Paul's  cathedral  tower,  Pittsburgh,  was 
again  lighted  last  night,  and  for  the  first 
time  everyone  of  the  more  than  eight  hund- 
red jets  burned  brightly.  The  cross  is  sup- 
plied with  rows  of  jets  outside  the  edges 
and  all  the  way  around,  placed  two  inches 
apart,  and  also  with  central  jets  running 


by  the  middle  of  the  upright  and  along 
the  arm  of  the  cross.  The  heat  generated 
by  so  many  lights  is  intense,  but  to  guard 
against  the  cross  becoming  too  hot,  in- 
curring the  danger  of  splitting  the  rock 
in  which  it  is  set,  the  jets  commence  a 
considerable  distance  from  the  base.  The 
eff'ect  when  lighted  is  grand  to  an  extreme. 
The  emblazoned  cross,  penetrating  the 
elouds,  can  be  seen  and  distinguished 
from  almost  every  point  within  four  or 
five  miles  of  the  city. —  Gazette^  Dec.  29. 
The  Post  says: — "On  special  occasions 
the  cross  will  be  lighted  by  electricity, 
after  a  design  devised  by  Rev.  Father 
Ilickey.  This  plan  uses  a  powerful  bat- 
tery; the  wires  from  which  extend  par- 
allel to  the  base  of  the  cross,  and  approach 
each  other  without  touching,  where  a  gas 
jet  intervenes.  When  the  battery  is  set 
in  motion,  and  the  current  of  electricity 
is  generated,  it  is  known  that  in  passing 
from  the  positive  to  the  negative  pole 
which,  as  weJiave  said  before,  are  in  prox- 
imity, the  electricity  manifests  its  progress 
through  the  air  by  a  flash,  just  as  the  phe- 
nomenon of  lightning  originates.  At  this 
moment,  the  gas  escaping  from  the  burner 
is  ignited,  and  one  jet  after  another 
catches  and  passes  the  flame,  until  the 
entire  cross  is  a  mass  of  fire.  At  a  dis- 
tance the  efiect  is  impressive,  and  recalls 
to  mind  the  historic  cross  which  presented 
itself  in  the  heavens,  as  an  omen  of  good 
fortune  to  the  Emperor  Constantine  pre- 
vious to  an  engagement  with  the  pagans. 
This  is  the  first  instance  of  outside  illu- 
mination, efiected  by  electricity,  which  has 
ever  been  introduced  into  our  country,  and 
its  success  is  entirely  due  to  home  talent 
and  industry." 


Receipts  for  Defence  of  the  Pope. 


Amount  on  hand — from  No.  2 %  371  21 

Mrs.  Potmire,  Logansport,  Ind.  1  00 

Total  amount  on  hand..  ..I    372  21 
Am't  remitted  up  to  Oct.  5,  1868.  1,343  00 

ToUl $1,715  21 


AVE      MARIA. 


61 


A  Rationalistic  Tiew  of  the  Papacy. 


The  following  well-traaslated  article 
for  the  Cincinnati  Enquirer^  from  the 
Roman  correspondence  of  the  Cincinnati 
Volksblatty  is  highly  suggestive  and  val- 
uable, because  of  the  inimical  source 
whence  it  comes : 

The  catholic  hierarchy  feels  so  secure 
of  its  power,  its  indispcnsablencss,  its  in- 
destructibility, that  it  looks  with  imper- 
turbable complacency  upon  the  schemes 
and  agitations  of  Mazzini,  Garibaldi, "  and 
still  worse  characters,  if  such  are  possi- 
ble," as  the  Osservatore  JRomano  expresses 
it.  "Peter  signifies  rock,  and  upon  this 
rock  the  Lord  hath  built  His  Church,"  is 
one  of  the  inscriptions  in  Saint  Peter's 
church,  and  the  Roman  hierarchy  plants 
■  itself  on  that  article  with  a  reliance  firm 
as  a  rock.  What?  Have  not  the  succes- 
sors of  St.  Peter  endured  the  sanguinary 
persecutions  of  the  empire?  Have  they 
not  withstood  the  devastating  incursions 
of  the  Theodorics,  the  Genserics,  the  At- 
tilas,  and  the  Roman  expeditions  of  the 
German  emperors?  Have  they  not  wit- 
nessed the  end  of  the  nxighty  imperator, 
Napoleon  I,  who  laid  hands  on  the  an- 
ointed person  of  the  Pope,  and  carried 
the  Holy  Father  a  captive  to  France? 
Have  they  not  seen  the  fall  of  him  who 
lorded  it  over  Europe;  seen  him  end  on 
St.  Helena  like  an  evAnescent  i^nisfatuus ? 
And  all  the  revolutions  in  Italy  during 
the  twenty  years,  the  July  revolution,  and 
the  eventful  year  1848 — that  year  dis- 
tinguished by  the  weakness  of  kings  and 
the  stupidity  of  nations?  Have  they  not 
all  swept  by  the  Holy  Chair  without  leav- 
ing even  a  vestige  of  their  course?  And 
in  our  recent  days,  when  Garibaldi's  au- 
dacious hosts  threatened  sacred  Rome, 
have  not  the  holy  Chassepots  wrought 
miracles  at  Montana  and  exterminated 
Kor:ih,  Dathau,  and  Abiram,  with  their 
whole  gang? 

Why  should  we,  after  such  experiences, 
grow   despondent?     No  I     Pope  Pius  IX, 


his  cardinals  and  archpriests,  the  Jesuits, 
and  all  the  variety  of  monks,  the  entire 
hierarchy  and  priesthood,  they  all  are  so 
firmly  convinced  of  their  indispensable- 
ness  and  indestructibility,  that,  in  Rome, 
everything  would  follow  its  wonted  rou- 
tine, though  all  the  rest  of  Europe  stood 
in  flames.  **  Reforms,  Holy  Father,  for 
God's  sake,  some  reforms !"  writes  Napo- 
leon III  to  Rome,  and  the  Holy  Chair  an- 
swers with  the  old  "  non /WMMmw*."  Re- 
forms! Silly  demand  !  If  Rome  could  re- 
form she  would  not  be  Rome.  "/Sint  uti 
sunt,  aut  non  ami,"  replied  the  General  of 
the  Jesuits  to  the  progressive  Pdpe,  who 
had  recommended  changes  and  reforms  in 
the  statutes  of  the  Order  of  St.  Loyola; 
and  so  replies  the  Pai>al  hierarchy,  when 
reform  in  the  Church  is  asked  for.  "Let 
her  be  as  she  is,  or  not  at  all !"  What, 
have  Savonarola,  Giordano  Bruno  and  oth- 
ers reformed  ?  Nothing !  And  the  mighty 
Eola  Rienzi  ?  Has  he  altered  even  a  tittle 
in  the  Roman  Govenunent?  They  all 
sowed  sand  upon  arid  rocks  and  reaped 
torture  and  the  stake.  Or,  has  Martin  Lu- 
ther reformed  the  Catholic  Church?  No! 
The  Reformation  was  a  resolution  against 
the  existing  order  of  things,  of  which 
princes,  ambitious  and  lusting  after  ag- 
grandizement, obtained  control,  and  pock- 
eted the  profits  in  territory  and  the  treas- 
ures of  kirk  and  cloister.  Rich  and  flour- 
ishing Germany  was  by  the  Thirty  Years' 
War  transformed  into  a  howling  wilder- 
ness; St.  Peter's  Chair  in  Rome  stood  as 
before,  and  the  Jesuits  governed  princes 
and  people  The  Reformation  created  a 
religion  which  is  no  religion,  because  it 
lacks  faith;  because  for  faith  it  substitu- 
ted human  inquiry,  which  seeks  for  the 
cause  of  things,  and  as  it  advances  from 
conquest  to  conquest  in  knowledge,  its 
appetite  becomes  whetted  and  its  searches 
extend  more  deeply,  until  it  dissolves  in 
nothing  and  perishes.  Then  come  the 
Feuerbachs,  the  Strauss,  the  Renans  and 
others,  and  sap  and  dig  at  the  foundations 
of  the  edifice  until  cracks  and  fissures  ap- 
pear on  every  side,  and  one  portion  of  the 
faithful  ends  in  Deism  and  Atheism,  while 


62 


AVE      MARIA 


the  other,  by  the  road  of  Orthodoxy,  Pu- 
seyism,  and  the  like,  imperceptibly  re- 
turns to  the  Pupal  hierarchy. 

Such  was  the  first  impression  which 
Rome  made  on  rae,  and  which  I  find  con- 
firmed in  the  whole  confident  bearing  and 
physiognomy  of  the  throng  of  prelates, 
abbots,  secular  priests,  and  shod  and  bare- 
footed monks  slinking  along  the  streets. 
Is  it  a  fanatical  assurance?  Is  it  the 
strong  reliance  on  aid  from  without  or 
from  above,  that  engenders  this  self-con- 
scious, imperturbable  feeling  of  security  ? 
I  do  not  know.  But  that  it  exists,  I  see 
and  heat  every  day.  Those  who  picture  to 
themselves  a  Konie  without  the  Pope  and 
without  the  seat  of  the  christian  Church, 
and  consider  such  a  metamorphosis  an 
easy  matter,  argue  more  by  their  wishes 
and  prejudices  than  according  to  logical 
conclusions ;  and  if  Rome  were  to-mor- 
row given  to  King  Victor  £mmanuel  as 
the  capital  of  Italy,  it  would  be  the  most 
pernicious  Greek  present  that  could  be 
thrust  upon  the  young  Italian  nation. 


Ordinations. 


On  Saturday,  Jan.  2d,  in  the  cathedral, 
Philadelphia,  Rt.  Rev.  Bishop  Shanahan 
conferred  the  sacred  order  of  Priesthood 
on  Rev.  John  W.  Shanahan,  Rev.  Francis 
X.  Schmidt,  Rev.  Thomas  Reilly  and  Rev. 
Edward  T.  Field.  The  first  named  gen- 
tleman was  ordained  for  the  diocese  of 
Philadelphia :  the  others  for  the  diocese 
of  Ilarrisburg. 

In  St.  Mary's  cathedral,  Natchez,  Dec. 
25th,  Rt.  Rev.  Bishop  Elder  ordained  to 
the  Sacred  Order  of  Priesthood,  Rev.  P. 
Chevalier,  Rev.  Henry  Alexander  de  Mo- 
rangies  and  Rev.  Louis  Vally.  All  these 
reverend  gentlemen  will  labor  in  tlie  di- 
ocese of  Natchez,  comprising  the  entire 
State  of  Mississippi. — Natchez  Democrat. 

Receptions  and  Professions. 


Mount  St.  Joseph,  Chestnut  Hill,  xkar 
Philadelphia. — On  the  Feast  of  the  Holy 
Innocents,  the  Rt.  Rev.  Bishop  presiding. 


the  following  Sisters  of  St.  Joseph  made 
their  profession:  Sister  Hilaiy  (Miss  C. 
y.ynch),  Sister  Tliecla  (Miss  Mary  O'Con- 
nell).  Sister  MagJTaTene  (Miss  Teresa  Col- 
man),  Sister  Othelia  (Miss  Agnes  Col- 
man),  Sister  Saint  Roche,  (Miss  Anne 
Morgan),  Sister  Barbara  (Miss  Maiy  Sul- 
livan). 

On  the  same  festival  four  young  ladies 
took  the  veil  in  the  same  convent.  The 
Standard  says  that  during  the  past  year 
about  twenty  ladies  have  abandoned  the 
world  and  assumed  the  humble  garb  of 
the  Sisters  of  St.  Joseph. 

Religious  Psofessiox  at  Shakopee. — 
On  the  Festival  of  the  Epiphany  the  Rt. 
Rev.  Bishop  received  the  perpetual  vows 
of  three  Sisters  of  the  Order  of  St.  Bene- 
dict. The  ceremony  took  place  in  the 
parochial  church,  in  which  all  the  people 
of  Shakopee  and  the  surrounding  country 
seemed  to  have  gathered,  so  great  was 
the  number  present, — N.  W.  Chronicle. 

Parkersburo,  W.  Va.,  Jan.  1,  1869. — 
On  the  29th  of  December,  an  interesting 
ceremony  took  place  in  the  chapel  of  the 
Visitation  Order.  The  habit  of  religion 
was  given  to  Miss  Mary  Kelly,  of  Park- 
ersburg.  On  the  same  day.  Miss  Mary 
Merge,  of  Wheeling,  was  admitted  to  the 
religious  profession.  The  name  of  the 
latter  in  religion  is  Sister  Mary  Catherine; 
of  the  former,  Sister  Mary  Michaella. 
The  Very  Rev.  Father  Parke,  V.  G.,  pre- 
s  ided. — Mirror. 

Deatlis. 


Died,  at  the  House  of  the  Good  Shep- 
herd, on  the  1st  of  Jan.,  Sister  Mary  of 
St.  Ann,  whose  departure  to  eternal  rest 
was  hastened  by  years  of  devotedness  to 
duty  in  the  Female  prison,  front  Street. — 
Cath.  Tel. 

Convent  of  Sisters  of  Charity,  East 
Broadway,  New  York,  on  the  29th  of  Dec, 
Sister  Geraldine, — she  died  as  she  had 
lived,  calm,  and  sweet,  and  patient,  edify- 
ing even  her  sisters  in  religion  by  the  in- 
eft'able  peace  and  beauty  of  her  last 
moments. — N.  Y.  Tablet. 


AVE      MARIA. 


63 


(^^HILDREN'S    €IePARTMENT. 


Thsian-Kang*s  Tales. 


[continued.] 

It  was  80  long  ere  o\ir  friend  Thsian- 
Kang  came  again  that  I  had  to  leave  for 
my  employment,  and  consequently  I  am 
indebted  to  second-hand  sources  for  the 
tales  he  told  Freddy  and  the  rest  of  the 
family, — who  were  more,  or  at  least  as 
much,  interested  in  them  ar  Freddy  him- 
self. 

"All  mankind" — said  Thsian-Kang, — 
"having  the  same  origin,  the  sacred  books 
of  every  race  give  a  similar  account  to 
that  of  Moses — a  time  of  innocence  and 
happiness  for  the  early  inhabitants  of  the 
earth, — a  time  when  man's  passions  did 
not  master  him.  This  is  the  tradition  of 
every  poet;  and  poetry  was,  as  you  know, 
the  manner  of  transmitting  history  in  the 
earliest  times.  The  institutes  of  Menu 
in  India,  which  are  perhaps  the  oldest  rec- 
ords, if  we  except  that  of  Moses,  presents 
us  even  with  a  delicious  garden,  in  the 
midst  of  which  stood  a  tree  of  knowledge, 
where  the  first  pair  lived  whose  names 
were  Adim  and  Iva.  A  rivor  surrounded 
this  garden,  and  separated  into  four 
streams — eastward,  westward,  northward 
and  southward.  Those  of  the  Egyptian 
priests  taught  a  similar  legend,  as  did  also 
the  'mysteries'  of  Eleusis,  and  other  ini- 
tiators into  truth,  among  the  nations. 
When  then  Moses  wrote  his  history  of  the 
creation,  we  must  remember  that  he  was 
writing  undisputed  facts  which  had  been 
handed  down  from  Noe,  and  which  all  na- 
tions had  received,  though  they  soon  cor- 
rupted them.  Now,  we  will  understand 
thoroughly  this  history  of  our  first  parents 
before  we  proceed  to  the  world's  history, 
because  it  refers  to  a  different  state  of  ex- 
istence to  that  in  which  man  now  moves, 
and  18  the  state  to  which  man  aspires. 
"God  had  created  the   heavens  and  the 


earth,  and  saw  that  evcr}'thing  was  good; 
that  is,  that  it  answered  the  intention  of 
its  creation.  VegetaVjle  life  served  to 
maintain  animal  life,  and  animal  life  sus- 
tained itself  by  instincts  implanted  by 
God:  the  bee  knew  where  to  find  the  flow- 
er which  was  to  furnish  it  with  honey,  the 
sheep  knew  the  pastures  which  were  fitted 
to  nourish  its  nature,  the  elephant  needed 
no  teaching  to  distinguish  the  forest  fruit 
which  was  to  serve  Uim  for  food;  the 
knowledge  was  within  them  when  God 
made  them,  it  was  a  part  of  their  Mixd,  a 
part  of  their  being;  they  need  not  go  to 
school  to  learn  the  lesson  of  theii* exist- 
ence." 

"No,"  said  Freddy,  "I  have  often 
thought  of  that.  It  must  be  nice  to  be  a 
bird,  to  go  where  one  likes  and  take  what 
one  wants,  without  being  told  not  to  eat 
this  nice  thing,  *  it  will  make  you  sick,* 
nor  to  jump  that  ditch,  'it  will  spoil  your 
clothes.'  It  is  far  nicer  to  know  all  one 
wants,  too,  without  sitting  on  a  school 
bench  six  hours  a  day,  and  having  a  cut 
on  the  hand  if  one  nudges  the  boy  who 
sits  next,  and  just  says  'Look  how  it's 
snowing;  won't  we  have  a  game  by-and- 
by.'  Why  could  not  we  learn  as  birds 
do?" 

"Adam  had  the  offer  of  so  learning," 
said  Thsian-Kang,  "but  he  thought  it  bet- 
ter to  find  out  things  for  himself." 

"The  fool,"  said  Freddy;  "but  I  do  not 
quite  see  how  it  was." 

"  Adam,"  said  Thsian-Kang,  "  was 
created  with  richer  poM'ers  than  the  bird: 
he  was  meant  to  be  the  son  of  God,  to 
have  the  same  kind  of  enjoyment  as  God. 
He  was  of  course  to  be  lower  than  God, 
who  is  a  spiritual  essence;  while  Adam's 
spirit  being  linked  to  a  body,  he  was  to 
have  some  animal  wants,  but  his  soul  was 
made  so  that  it  could  take  delight  in  or- 
der, in  beauty;  so  that  it  could  understand 
the  order  and  beauty  of  holiness  as  they 
reside  in  God.  Don't  you  like  to  sec  a 
beautiful  procession,  Freddy?" 

"Yes,"  said  Freddy. 

"And  pretty  flowers,  and  fine  paint- 
ings?" 


64: 


AVE      MARIA. 


"Indeed  yes!" 

"Well,  your  pet  lamb  does  not  care  for 
these;  nor  your  canary  birds,  either;  and 
there  are  many  other  pleasures,  intellectu- 
al and  spiritual,  which  Adam  was  created 
to  enjoy,  of  which  mere  animals  have  no 
idea." 

"Then  why  have  we  got  not  them?" 
asked  Sophy. 

"You  have  many  of  which  you  are 
scarcely  aware,  because  you  are  accus- 
tomed to  them.  You  have  the  love  of  the 
beautiful  in  this  house;  you  have  the  lore 
of  order;  you  also  have  yoiir  father  and 
mother,  brothers,  sisters,  and  friends ;  you 
have  a  measure  even  of  the  love  of  God; — 
you  are  blessed,  I  had  almost  said,  singu- 
larly ;  for  thousands  upon  thousands  of 
men  exist  who  have  none  of  these  bless- 
ings. Thousands  of  children  in  every 
large  capital  city  in  the  world  are  brought 
up  as  mere  animals,  and  live  by  vice  and 
crime,  in  vice  and  crime.  These  again 
are  not  troubled  by  school;  would  you 
like  to  join  them?" 

"No  indeed,"  said  Freddy. 

"And  you  cannot  join  the  others,  I 
mean  the  blessed  ones,  because  you  are 
not  born  into  that  state.  Now,  let  us  ex- 
amine the  matter. 

"Adam  was  created  with  high  powers 
of  intellect,  a  high  sense  of  the  moral  fit- 
ness of  things,  warm  affections, — all  these 
seated  in  a  body  which  was  to  serve  in  the 
bringing  into  action  these  faculties:  and 
that  these  faculties  might  preserve  their 
health  and  vigor,  and  work  in  their  fitting 
order,  they  were  rendered  specially  de- 
pendent on  the  action  of  God  on  them. 
God's  grace  feeds  the  soul,  and  increases 
its  power;  so  that  whenever  men  want  to 
feed  themselves  with  sublime  images,  or 
perform  a  magnificent  work,  they  are 
obliged  to  have  recourse  to  the  idea  of 
God.  The  most  beautiful  paintings,  the 
most  splendid  sculpture,  are  those  used  in 
the  service  of  religion. 

"Well,  Adam  did  not  know  how  much 
the  action  of  grace  on  his  soul  was  neces- 
sary to  his  happiness,  to  keep  reason  up- 
permost and  the  passions  subdued,  so  he 


forfeited  grace;  and  now,  instead  of  the 
inspirations  of  God  to  teach  him,  he  has 
to  work  out  knowledge;  and  to  keep  his 
passions  in  subjection  he  has  to  labor  and 
to  fast.  That  is  the  tradition  of  all  na* 
tions. 

"Man  was  created  if  not  quite  a  God, 
yet  so  nearly  one  that  he  was  capable  of 
receiving  lessons  from  God  and  of  having 
perfect  control  over  his  passions,  and  over 
all  animal  nature;  he  lost  this  by  disobe- 
dience, and  has  to  win  it  back  by  labor  in 
obedience. 

Those  who  do  this  preserve  their  facul- 
ties; those  who  do  not,  become  animals, 
and  very  frightful  animals,  too.  Hard 
work  is  not  agreeable,  but  it  is  necessar\'; 
not  so  much  to  obtain  bread  and  knowl- 
edge— although  hard  work  is  needed  for 
both  these — as  to  obtain  the  use  of  one's 
own  higher  faculties  for  the  acquisition  of 
moral  power,  power  over  the  animal  part 
of  one's  nature." 

"But  rich  men  do  not  work,"  said 
Freddy. 

"  Those  rich  men  who  do  not  M'ork 
either  with  their  minds  or  hands,"  said 
Thsian-Kang,  "sink  into  animals  very 
easily,  lose  the  use  of  their  higher  facul- 
ties, and  become  the  nuisances  of  so- 
ciety." 

"  I  thought  all  men  wanted  to  be  rich, 
that  they  might  do  as  they  like,"  said 
Fred. 

"  To  do  as  they  like!  It  is  just  because 
men  have  been  intent  on  doing  as  they 
like  that  there  is  so  much  misery  in  the 
world.  Because  in  most  men  the  passions 
are  not  subdued,  neither  is  the  spiritual 
nature  so  called  out  as  to  be  the  dominant 
force,  the  ruling  power;  consequently,  in- 
tent on  selfish  gratification,  the  strongest 
compels  the  weak,  and  misrule  is  the  con- 
sequence. The  little  boys  won't  go  to 
school  unless  compelled  by  p.ipa  and 
mamma,  nor  will  the  great  ones  of  the 
earth  put  themselves  to  school,  unless 
compelled  by  the  great  Father.  It  is  the 
old  story  over  and  over  again,  as  we  read 
it  in  the  Bible." 

[to  bb  continued.] 


AVE   MARIA. 

3i  Catholir  .^carnal  dcvotcrt  ta  t\\t  |*5anov  rt'  the  ^ImtH  ^Fitjik 


Vol.  V. 


KOTEB  DAME,  INDIANA,  FEBRUAEY  13,  1869. 


).  7. 


LENT. 


The  days  of  fasting  are  at  hand — those 
days  of  solemn  recognition  of  sin;  days 
set  apart  by  the  Church  to  avert  God's 
wrath,  to  satisfy  for  sin,  to  mortify  human 
passion,  that  the  spiritual  affinities  of  hu- 
man beings  may  make  themselves  felt, 
m.ay  have  time  to  express  themselves,  may 
exercise  a  salutary  influenceover  our  being. 
It  is  a  restorative  process,  that  of  the 
solemn  fast  of  the  spring;  a  preventive 
process,  a  developing  process.  Is  this 
understood? 

How  many  recognize  the  fact  that  the 
lower  faculties,  those  of  the  animal  man, 
p/erride  the  spiritual  existence,  and  prevent 
it  from  expanding  into  life  ? — and  that  con- 
sequently these  periods  of  mortification  ap- 
pointed by  the  Church  have  a  definite  and 
reasonable  object:  that  of  deadening  tlic 
predominance  of  animalism,  of  re.awaking 
spiritual  life,  and  of  raising  the  whole 
of  mau's  being  to  that  spiritual  communi- 
cation with  his  3Iaker  which  is  the  object 
of  his  existence,  which  #ftbrds  the  highest 
and  the  noblest  enjoyment  when  once  it 
has  been  entered  upon,  comprehended, 
fastened  on  as  the  true  life ;  which  contains 
within  itself  the  germ  of  every  happiness? 

How  few  ever  give  this  even  a  second 
thought!  Men  are  full  of  projects  to  or- 
ganize exterior  establishments,  which  are 
to  banish  sorrow  and  misery  and  want 
from  the  human  race ;  and  with  their 
ste.am,  and  their  associations,  and  their 
organizations,  they  certainly  make  way 
in  material  progress :  wealth  increases 
and  luxury  increases,  and  a  certain  sort  of 


intelligence  increases;  but  does  morality 
increase?  does  mental  force  increase? 
The  means  of  enjoyment  seem  on  the 
increase  ;  does  enjoyment  itself  increase  ? 
Are  people  moi-e  happy,  more  contented, 
more  cheerful  than  were  their  simpler 
forefathers  ?     It  doth  not  seem  so. 

And  why  is  this?  The  answer  is  as  old 
as  the  world.  *'  The  kingdom  of  God," 
which  alone  can  produce  happiness,  "  is 
within  you,"  not  outside,  in  your  exterior 
embellishments,  in  your  elaborate  associa- 
tions for  physical  convenience.  You  may 
ignore  your  filial  relationships  to  God,  you 
may  overlay  the  spiritual  faculty  the  exercise 
of  which  forms  the  truest,  the  highest  good 
lor  man  either  in  this  world  or  the  next, 
but  you  cannot  satisfy  the  interior  yearning 
with  any  food  short  of  the  bread  of  life ; 
no  lesf^er,  no  material  food  can  appease  the 
spiritual  hunger:  the  divine  instincts  point 
to  something  better  than  the  husks  for 
swine  which  fill  the  animal  but  do  not  con- 
tent the  spirit. 

On  entering  then  the  solemn  fast  of  the 
spring,  we  may  reasonably  spend  a  short 
time  in  meditating  on  its  efficacy,  in  prepar- 
ing the  spirit  to  receive  God  into  the  soul. 
The  whole  passage  of  the  Gospel  is  bo 
fraught  with  instruction  that  we  transcribe 
it  verse  for  verse,  because  taken  together 
it  contains  a  key  to  christian  sanctification 
which  is  very  striking. 

*'And  in  those  days  coraeth  John  the 
Baptist  preaching  in  the  desert  of  Judea ; 
and  saying:  Do  penance;  for  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  is  at  hand."  Do  violence 
to  the  flesh,  subdue  the  rebellious  pas«ions, 
that  you  may  be  rendered  capable  of  listen- 
ing to  the  eternal  truths  which  the  eternal 
Restorer    is    about   to   proclaim    to    you: 


98 


AVE     MARIA 


"For  this  is  lie  that  was  spoken  of  by 
Isaias  the  prophet,  saving:  A  voice  of 
one  crying  in  the  desert,  prepare  ye  the 
way  of  the  Lord :  make  straight  His  paths." 
If  reason  has  been  subdued  by  the  pas- 
sions, if  pride  of  human  intellect  has  in- 
flated the  heart  of  man,  the  soul  is  not  in 
a  fit  state  to  receive  the  word  of  the  Lord ; 
passion  is  blind,  pride  is  overbearing,  both 
must  be  cut  down  to  prepare  the  way  of  the 
Lord,  to  make  straight  His  paths. 

"And  the  same  John  had  his  garment  of 
camel's  hair,  and  a  leathern  girdle  about 
his  loins  ;  and  his  meat  was  locusts  and 
wild  honey."  This  was  an  example  of 
real  penance;  and  inasmuch  as  example  is 
always  far  more  efficacious  than  precept,  it 
was  highly  calculated  to  attract  attention. 
"  Then  went  out  to  him  Jerusalem  and  all 
Judea,  and  all  the  country  about  Jordan, 
and  were  baptised  by  him  in  the  Jordan 
confessing  their  sins.  And  seeing  many 
of  the  Pharisees  and  Sadducees  coming  to 
his  baptism,  he  paid  to  them:  Ye  brood  of 
vipers,  who  hath  showed  you  to  flee  from 
the  wrath  to  come?  Bring  forth,  therefore, 
fruit  worthy  of  penance :  And  think  not 
to  say  within  yourselves:  We  have  Abra- 
ham for  our  father:  for  I  tell  you,  God  is 
able  of  these  stones  to  raise  up  children  to 
Abraham." 

Baptism  to  penance !  inaugurated  by 
confession,  as  a  preparation  of  the  heart, 
to  enable  it  to  comprehend  God!  What 
a  lesson  ! 

"And  then  cometh  Jesus  from  Galilee  to 
the  Jordan,  unto  John,  to  be  baptized  by 
him.  But  John  stayed  him,  saying:  I 
ought  to  be  baptized  by  Thee,  and  comest 
Thou  to  me?  And  Jesus  answering,  said 
to  him:  Suffer  it  to  be  so  now:  for  so  it 
becometh  us  to  fulfil  all  justice.  Then 
he  suffered  him." 

This  baptism  of  our  Lord  to  suffering, 
that  He  might  fulfil  all  justice,  is  a  coun- 
terpart of  our  Lady's  offering  at  the  Purifi- 
cation, that  she  might  fulfil  the  require- 
ments of  the  law.  In  her  humility  she 
would  not  stand  on  her  prerogative  of  sin- 
lessness,  oven  as  our  Lord  when  com- 
ing to  "  fulfil  all  justice"   laid   aside  His 


sovereignty  of  heaven  and  earth,  that  He 
might  be  an  example  to  man  as  well  as 
an  atoiver  for  his  sin. 

"From  the  days  of  John  the  Baptist, 
until  now,"  saith  our  Lonl,  "  the  kingdom 
of  heaven  suffereth  violence;  and  the  vio- 
lent bear  it  away."*  That  is  to  say:  those 
who  have  courage  to  do  violence  to  them- 
selves, to  subdue  themselves,  to  cast  out 
evil  to  make  way  for  the  spirit  of  God. 
These  are  the  inheritors  of  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.  If  in  preparation  for  entering  on 
His  ministry,  our  Lord  thought  fit  to  pre- 
pare humanity  by  setting  an  example  of 
penance ;  if  the  voice  from  heaven  ac- 
knowledged acceptance  of  this  His  ofter- 
ing,  when  the  Spirit  of  God  descended 
upon  Him  and  proclaimed  Him  the  well- 
beloved  Son  of  God,  and  then  led  Hira 
forth  into  the  desert  to  fast  forty  days 
and  forty  nights  previous  to  His  being 
exposed  to  spiritual  temptations,  shall 
not  we,  who  are  expose<l  not  only  to  spir- 
itual temptations  but  a  worldliness  and 
"fleshly  lusts  that  war  against  tlie  soul," 
gratefully  accept  the  helps  that  our  Holy 
Mother  Church  affords  us  at  this  season  of 
the  year,  and  enter  on  the  approaching 
fast  of  Lent  "  baptized  by  penance;"  "  to 
fulfil  all  justice" — that  we  too  may  feel 
the  descent  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  an«i  hear 
the  words  "This  is  my  beloved  son,  in 
whom  I  am  well  pleased."  What  hinders, 
save  our  sin?  for  we  are  coheirs  "with 
Christ"  to  a  place  in  our  Fathek's  king-' 
dom,  which  He  hath  won  for  us.  A  place, 
too,  in  our  Mother's  heart  which  we  will 
implore  her  as  "Mother  of  sorrows"  to 
keep  open  for  us. 

Mary,  under  thy  protection 

Do  we  pliice  this  fast  of  Lent  ; 
Children  of  tliy  predilection 

We  invoke  thee  revtreat ! 

Thou  for  us  hast  sighed  and  sorrowed, — 
Thou  the  sinless  one, — the  pure! 

Punishment  for  us  hast  borrowed, 
Our  salvation  to  ensure. 

All  thy  life  was  one  long  fasting, 
Ever  governed  eacli  desire ; 


*  3Iatt.  xi,  12. 


AVE      MARIA 


90 


Winning  thu«<  bliss  everlasting, 
Cleansing  curtli  with  llcavun's  own  fire. 

Thoughts  of  glory  did  ensliroud  thcc 
Whil:  earth's  day  still  held  thcc  bound; 

Nor  could  murky  luists  encloud  thee 
While  such  viuions  siione  around. 

Far  above  all  noxious  vapors 
Towered  thy  spirit  higli  and  free. 

Filling  up  the  angels'  censers 
With  a  prayer  as  sweet  as  thee ! 

Mother,  then,  arouse  within  us 
Thoughts  so  fraught  with  pure  delight 

As  shall  kill  the  sin  within  us, — 
As  shall  quell  all  appetite. 

Crowd  the  evil  out  that's  in  us 

With  high  thoughts  of  heaven  and  thee! 
Beauty  such  as  thine  must  win  us — 

Win  tis  for  eternity ! 

Let  our  fast  be  sin's  repression 
Setting  free  the  soul's  bright  power; 

Panting  for  that  glad  expression 
Which  awaits  earth's  final  hour. 

M.  A.  Oell. 


Nary  is  Entitled  to  tlie  Special  Gratitude 

of  tiiose  who  Enjoy  the  Benefits 

of  Redemption. 


[concluded.] 

III.  In  consequence  of  her  assent  be- 
ing given,  M:iry  having  become  Mother  of 
God,  let  us  pass  to  consider  her  in  the  ca- 
pacity of  Mother  ;  and  having  already  con- 
sidered her  influence  in  christian  society 
on  account  of  her  virginity,  let  us  see  now 
how  influential  was  her  maternity  iix  rela- 
tion to  the  welfare  of  Adam's  children. 
We  mean  to  speak  of  her  maternity  not  so 
much  as  Mother  of  God  (because  this  is 
the  object  of  a  separate  chapter),  but  as 
mother  of  a  family,  as  the  honor  and 
model  of  christian  Motherhood.  Mary  is 
to  be  considered  as  the  moral  ideal  of  the 
beauty  of  women,  the  type  of  womanly 
perfection ;  so  that  in  her  person  the  de- 
graded condition  of  woman  is  restored. 
She  is  the  new  Eve  repairing  the  damage 
caused  by  the  first,  and  gloriously  raising 


and  ennobling  her  own  sex.  St.  Ephrem* 
says  that  Mary  ransomed  Eve's  travail: 
"  Travail  Adam  on  the  woman  brought, 
that  from  it  had  come  forth.  She  to-day 
her  travail  ransomed,  who  to  her  a  Saviour 
bare."  St. Cyrilof  Jcrusalemf  says:  "A 
benefit  was  owing  to  men  from  woman* 
kind ;  for  Eve  sprung  from  Adam,  not  con- 
ceived by  a  mother,  but,  as  it  were,  brought 
forth  by  man  alone.  Mary,  then,  repaid 
the  benefit,  not  by  man,  but  immaculately 
by  herself,  conceiving  by  the  Holy  Ghost, 
through  the  power  of  God."  St.  Gregory 
NyssenJ  says:  "The  woman  is  defepded 
and  purged  through  a  woman.  The  former 
gave  room  and  admittance  to  sin ;  the 
latter  gave  hand  and  caused  the  introduc- 
tion of  justice."  St.  Augustine  §  says: 
"Because  man  fell  through  the  female  sex, 
by  the  female  sex  man  was  repaired:  be- 
cause a  Virgin  liad  been  Mother  to  Christ, 
woman  announced  that  lie  had  risen 
again.  By  woman  death  came,  and  by 
woman  life."  And  the  same  holy  father] 
adds  :  "  By  being  born  of  a  woman,  Jesus 
Christ  must  needs  have  shown  us  some 
great  mystery.  .  .  .  But  what  He  showed 
us  is  this,  that  human  creatures  were  not 
to  despair  of  themselves  in  any  sex,  seeing 
that  both  males  and  females  belong  to  a 
human  sex.  If,  then,  being  a  man,  as  He 
must  needs  have  been.  He  were  not  to  be 
born  of  a  woman,  women  would  despair 
of  themselves,  recollecting  that  the  first 
sin  was  theirs,  because  the  first  man  was  de- 
ceived by  a  woman,  and  would  fancy  that 
they  themselves  had  no  hope  in  Christ 
whatever.  He  came  then  a  man  to  choose 
first  the  male  sex,  and  by  being  born  of  a 
woman»to  console  the  female  sex;  as  He 
speaks  to  them  and  says :  That  you  may 
know  that  no  creature  of  God  is  bad,  but 
that  an  evil  pleasure  perverts  it.     .     .     . 


*  Morris,  Select  Works  of  Saint  Ephrem,  Oxford, 
1847,  p.  2. 

t  The  Catechetical  Lectures,  by  Newman,  Ox- 
ford, 1888,  p.  138. 

X  Homil.  de  Nat.  Chr. 

§  Serra.  ccxxxii,  Oper.  t.  v,  dar.  i,  p.  1108,  Migne. 

I  Se.rm.  li.  Oper.  t.  v,  p.  335,  Migne. 


100 


AVE     MARIA  ; 


See,  I  am  born  a  man  !  See  I  am  born 
from  a  woman  !  It  is  not  then  the  crea- 
ture which  I  made  which  I  condemn,  but 
the  sins  which  I  did  not  make.  Let  either 
sex  see  its  own  honor,  and  either  confess 
its  own  iniquity,  and  either  hope  for  sal- 
vation." Under  the  new  dispensation, 
indeed,  woman  is  no  longer  the  slave  of 
man,  but  she  is  considered  to  be  equal  to 
him,  having  the  same  unity  of  origin  and 
end,  a  participation  in  the  same  celestial 
gifts,  the  same  relationship  with  Jesus 
Christ,  and  the  same  high  destination  to 
heavenly  glory.  Moreover,  the  monogamia, 
the  indissolubility  of  marriage,  the  eleva- 
tion of  it  to  the  dignity  of  a  sacrament, 
the  protection  given  to  it  by  religion,  are 
safeguards  of  motherhood.  When  we 
consider  that  a  woman  has  been  elevated 
to  be  the  Mother  of  her  own  Creator,  we 
cannot  have  a  better  idea  of  woman's 
greatness;  and  likewise,  when  we  see  the 
very  Son  of  God  obey  and  honoring  a  wo- 
man, we  have  no  words  to  express  the 
sublimity  of  her  dignity.  In  Mary's  di- 
vine maternity  all  maternities  have  been 
ennobled,  extolled,  and  made  sublime. 
Mary,  by  associating  womankind  to  the 
cradle,  to  the  cross,  and  other  mysteries  of 
her  Divine  Son,  brought  the  woman  into 
contact  with  the  Divinity.  In  conclusion, 
Mary,  as  has  been  affirmed  by  St.  Irenaeus,* 
became  "  the  advocate  of  Eve,"  and,  we  add, 
the  joy  and  consolation  of  motherhood. 
The  name  of  Mary  considered  from  this 
point  of  view  as  beneficial  to  womankind, 
miy  perhaps,  we  think,  have  such  power 
over  the  gentle  and  grateful  hearts  of  the 
fair  sex  as  to  draw  a  tear  of  tenderness 
and  love  even  from  the  eyes  of  some  Prot- 
estant lady. 

IV.  It  is  the  teaching  of  the  holy  fa- 
thers, that  though  Mary  pleased  God  by 
her  virginity,  yet  it  was  through  her  hu- 
mility she  became  the  Mother  of  God,  and 
through  her  humility  the  mystery  of  the 
Incarnation  was  eft\joted  in  her  womb. 
Indeed  the  Blessed  Mary  herself  tells  usf 
that  she  became  the  blessed   of  all  gen- 


*  Adv.  Hajr.  iU.  v,  19, 


f  Luke  i,  48. 


erations,  because  God  regarded  the  hum- 
ble disposition  of  her  mind,  and  the  state 
of  humiliation  in  which  she  was:  "Be- 
cause He  has  regarded  the  humility  of  His 
handmaid,  for  behold  all  generations  shall 
call  me  blessed."  And  the  same  is  af- 
firmed by  the  holy  fathers.  Origen,  com- 
menting upon  the  said  text,*  says:  "i?ea- 
pezlt  humilitatein  (iHctUce  stice,  God  re- 
garded me  being  humble,  following  the 
virtue  of  meekness,  and  wishing  to  be  con- 
temned." St.  James  of  Nisibisf  says: 
"When  Christ  was  announced,  it  was  by 
salutation  lie  came  to  us,  and  it  was  owing 
to  humility  that  Mary  received  Him,  when 
Gabriel  saluted  Blessed  Mary,  and  said. 
Hail,  blessed  art  thou  amongst  women." 
St.  Peter  ChrysologusJ  says :  "  She  who  is 
called  mistress  by  the  angel,  acknowl- 
edges herself  and  confesses  to  be  His  hand- 
maid, because  a  pious  soul  on  receiving 
favors,  f;ir  from  becoming  haughty,  and 
growing  proud,  increases  in  submission, 
and  improves  in  grace."  Indeed  the  hu- 
mility of  Mary  was  the  humility  of  heart, 
which  pleases  God,  and  on  account  of  it 
we  receive  divine  favors  ;  as  has  been  ob- 
served by  St.  Ambrose, II  saying:  "Mary 
was  humble  of  heart."  Hence  St.  Augus- 
tine §  exclaims :  "  0  truly  blessed  humil- 
ity, which  brought  God  to  man,  gave  life 
to  mortals,  renewed  paradise,  purified  the 
world,  opened  heaven,  and  delivered  the 
souls  of  men  from  hell."  Jt/ary'x  humility 
is  therefore  a  new  element  towards  the 
spiritual  restoration  of  mankind,  as  with- 
out it  the  Son  of  God  would  not  have  ta- 
ken from  her  human  flesh.  Hence  it  was 
from  the  tree  of  the  humility  of  Mary 
that  we  had  the  first  and  divine  type  of 
humility,  Jesus  Christ,  who  for  our  sake 
humbled  Himself  unto  the  death  of  the 
cross.  Humility  introduced  by  Jesus  and 
Mary  produced  in  christian  society  a  new 
order  of  ideas.      The   spirit  of  pride    of 


*  Homil.  viii,  translated  by  St.  Jerome,  Oper. 
t.  vii,  p.  2:30,  Migne.  f  Serm.  p.  273. 

X  Serin,  cxlli,  Oper.  t.  un.  p.  ob2,  Migne. 
\  De  Virg.  lib.  ii,  Oper.  t.  iii,  p.  209,  Migne. 
§  Scrm.  XXXV,  de  Sanct. 


AVE     MARIA 


101 


11 


Evo  w:»s  vanquished  by  the  spirit  of  M.u-y's 
humility.  Hence  in  all  ages  of  Christian- 
ity a  j^reat  number  of  believers,  even  be- 
longiri;^  to  the  highest  classes  of  society, 
despised  honors,  riches,  an<l  pleasures,  to 
follow  only  the  cross  of  Jesus  Christ. 
Sab  in  a,  a  noble  Roman  lady,  while  fol- 
lowing the  Inimility  of  Jesus  and  Mary, 
being  asked  by  the  paganjudge  Elphidius 
if  she  were  that  Sabina  so  noble  and  es- 
teemed on  account  of  her  blood  and  mar- 
riage, answered  that  all  she  cared  for  was 
the  grace  she  had  received  of  being  liber- 
ated from  the  power  of  Satan,  and  of  em- 
bracing the  christian  faith.  Agatha,  like- 
wise a  noble  virgin  of  Sicily,  on  being 
tempted  by  Q  lintilianus,  the  prietor  of 
Sicily,  to  give  up  the  name  of  christian, 
on  the  ground  that  it  was  disgraceful  for 
a  lady  of  her  high  standing  and  nobility 
to  follow  the  humble  and  servile  life  of  a 
christian,  answered:  "Christian  humility 
and  slavery  are  much  more  noble  and  val- 
uable than  all  the  riches  and  pride  of 
kings."  In  Speed's  History  of  Great  Brit- 
ain, mention  is  made  of  eight  kings  and 
two  queens,  who,  for  humility's  sake,  re- 
nounced the  world,  and  took  the  religious 
habit.  In  the  preface  to  the  "Monasticon," 
it  is  stated  that  within  two  hundred  years 
thirty  Anglo-Saxon  kings  and  queens,  in 
the  midst  of  peace  and  prosperity,  resigned 
their  crowns  to  embrace  the  humble  mo- 
nastic life.  Therefore  it  appears  that  in 
christian  society  Jesus  and  Mary's  hu- 
mility was  a  new  element  in  the  restora- 
tion of  humanity. 

V.  But  a  new  argument  of  Mary's  co- 
operation in  the  great  work  of  human  res- 
toration is  this,  viz.  that  when  she  gave 
the  affirmative  to  the  angel,  saying  "Be  it 
done  to  me  according  to  thy  word,"  she, 
being  enlightened  by  the  spirit  of  phroph- 
ecy,  and  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  was  perfect- 
ly aware  of  the  onerous  and  responsible  po- 
tition  imposed  upon  her  in  consequence  of 
her  becoming  the  Mother  of  the  Redeem- 
er. Indeed  she  was  aware  by  the  prophets 
how  many  sufferings,  pains,  and  torments 
the  Son  of  God  was  to  endure  for  the  re- 
demption ot  mankiu<l,  and  how  she  her- 


self in  her  capacity  of  mother  would  have 
to  share  in  His  passion.  Indeed,  it  is  at- 
tested  also  by  Protestants,  tliat  Maty,  for 
her  time,  was  well  educated,  not  only  in 
female  domestic  habits  but  also  in  intel- 
lectual endowments.  Charles  Taylor* 
Bays:  "The  acquisition  of  writing  by  a 
young  Jewish  woman  adds  proofs  thatMary 
was  in  respectable  circumstances,  and 
had  received  a  liberal  education ;  for  we 
are  not  to  attribute  to  those  times,  and  to 
that  country,  the  same  diffusion  of  knowl- 
edge as  obtains  among  ourselves:  writing 
and  reading  were  rare  among  men,  much 
more  rare  among  women."  Mary,  there- 
fore, in  consideraton  also  of  her  human 
knowledge,  was  a  respectable,  well-educa- 
ted person.  Origen  f  says :  "  Mary  had  the 
science  of  the  law,  and  was  holy,  and  knew 
by  a  daily  meditation  all  predictions  of 
the  prophets,  so  that  the  salutation  of  the 
angel  could  not  frighten  her  by  surprise: 
She,  theref>re,  continually  reading  the 
Holy  Scriptures,  being  illuminated  by  the 
Holy  Ghost,  and  instructed  also  by  the 
doctors  of  the  law,  was  aware  of,  and  un- 
derstood the  sense  of  the  prophecies  re- 
lating to  the  future  Messiah,  so  as  to  be 
able  at  the  time  of  the  angelic  salutation 
to  perceive  how  much  He  had  to  suffer  for 
human  redemption,  and  what  share  she 
was  to  have  in  it.  Indeed,  from  Micheas 
she  knew  that  her  Son  had  to  be  born 
in  Bethlehem,  a  miserable  town.  From 
Isaiah  she  was  aware  of  the  state  of  hu- 
miliation and  pain  which  the  Redeemer 
had  to  undergo:  "Who  hath  believed  our 
report?  and  to  whom  is  the  arm  of  the 
Lord  revealed?  And  He  shall  grow  up  as 
a  tender  plant  before  Him,  and  as  a  root 
out  of  a  thirsty  ground.  There  was  no 
beauty  in  Him,  nor  comeliness,  and  we 
have  seen  Him,  and  there  was  no  sight- 
liness that  we  should  be  desirous  of  Him; 
being  despised  as  the  most  abject  of  men, 
a  Man  of  sorrow  and  acquainted  with  in- 
firmity, and  His   looks  were,  as  it  were. 


•  Calmet's  Dictionary,  London  1882,  p.  631. 
f  Homil.  VI.  In  Lua,  translated  by  St.  Jerome, 
Oper.  torn.  vii.  p.  281,  Migno. 


102 


AVE     MARIA. 


hidden  and  despised ;  wherenpon  we  es- 
teemed Him  not.  Surely  He  hath  borne 
our  infirmities  :vnd  carried  our  sorrows, 
and  we  have  thought  of  Him  as  it  were 
a  leper,  and  as  one  struck  by  God  and 
afflicted.  But  He  was  wounded  for  our  in- 
iquities, He  was  bruised  for  our  sins  :  the 
chastisement  of  our  peace  was  upon  Him, 
and  by  His  bruises  we  are  healed.  He 
shall  be  led  as  a  sheep  to  the  slaughter, 
and  shall  be  dumb  as  a  lamb  before  His 
shearers.  .  .  .  And  the  Lord  was 
pleased  to  bruise  Him  in  infirmity;  and 
He  shall  lay  down  His  life  for  sin.  .  .  . 
He  shall  divide  the  spoils  of  the  strong, 
because  He  hath  delivered  His  soul  unto 
death,  and  was  reputed  with  the  wicked, 
and  He  hath  borne  the  sins  of  many,  and 
prayed  for  the  transgressors."  This  was 
the  scene  of  the  passion  of  the  Son  of  God 
presented  to  the  mind  of  Mary  by  the 
prophet  Isaiah,  and  she,  by  accepting  the 
proposed  divine  maternity,  had  to  witness 
it,  nay,  she  had  to  participate  in  it,  and 
feel  as  much  as  the  most  loving  and 
tender  mother  would  have  done.  Such 
a  dreadful  prevision  was  certainly  no  in- 
ducement to  Mary  to  accept  the  office, 
nay,  it  was  calculated  to  frighten  and  ter- 
rify her.  However,  in  order  to  contribute 
as  far  as  it  was  in  her  power  to  the  rescue 
of  fallen  man,  she  readily  accepted  at  that 
moment,  and  afterwards  occasionally,  all 
the  troubles  and  afflictions  annexed  to  such 
a  painful  office,  and  said  to  the  angel, 
"  Be  it  done  to  me  according  to  thy  word." 
St.  Augustine  *  says:  "When  Mary  be- 
lieved the  angel,  when  she  said  she  did 
not  fear  his  embassy,  and  said.  Behold  the 
handmaid  of  the  Lord,  then  she  interposed 
for  the  world,  and  began  to  patronize  the 
cause  of  mankind."  St.  Peter  Chjysolo- 
gus  f  adds  that  the  angel  himself  was  as- 
tonished, on  consideration  that  mankind 
should  have  a  new  life  through  a  woman. 
Here  are  his  words:  **  Jnvenisti  enim  ffra- 
tiam  apud  Deum ;  this  being   said,  the 


very  angel  wondered  both  that  a  woman 
should  have  such  a  grace,  and  that  all 
men  should  have  deserved  to  be  entitled 
to  a  new  life  through  a  woman."  And 
that  Maiy  at  the  time  of  the  annunciation 
was  aware  of  her  responsible  position  of 
having  to  give  birth  to  Him  who  should 
be  an  object  of  great  pain  to  her  maternal 
heart,  appears  from  what  the  same  holy 
father*  adds:  "Mary  was  admonished  by 
the  angel:  thou  must  not  think  to  have  to 
bring  forth  a  son  for  thyself;  but  as  soon 
as  He  is  born,  call  Him  Redeemer;  because 
thy  virginity  does  not  produce  a  son  to 
thee,  but  it  produces  the  pledge  of  the 
author,  and  thy  integrity  carries  a  master, 
not  a  subject ;  the  angel  saying,  'And  thou 
shalt  call  His  name  Jesus,  that  is,  Re- 
deemer.' "  Thus  our  Blessed.  Lady,  by 
uniting  her  spontaneous  sacrifice  for  our 
sake  to  the  equally  spontaneous  sacrifice  of 
the  Son  of  God,  co-operated  and  contrib- 
uted with  our  Blessed  Saviour  to  the  spir- 
itual restoration  of  mankind;  and  for  it 
she  is  surely  entitled  to  the  particular 
gratitude  and  love  of  all  Christianity. 


•  Ibid.  p.  581. 


•  Sermo  de  Aqua  in  Vinum  conrersa,  edito  a 
Cardinali  Majo,  Spicil.  Rom.  torn.  viii. 
t  Serm.  cxlii,  t.  un.  p.  580,  Migne. 


Thk  late  Sir  Robert  Peel,  who  was  a 
man  of  statesmanlike  energies,  and  ex- 
tended experience  as  a  statesman,  was  once 
suddenly  summoned  back  from  Rome  to 
take  charge  of  the  government  of  his  na- 
tive country.  His  friends  came  about  hira 
and  asked  what  he  had  seen  ?  Amongst 
others  one  said  to  him,  "I  suppose.  Peel, 
you  have  seen  some  miracles  in  Rome?" 
"Yes,"  answered  Sir  Robert  Peel,  with 
truly  noble  generosity  of  soul,  "  I  have 
seen  a  miracle  in  Rome.  Here  it  is.  I 
have  observed  in  Rome  an  utter  absence 
of  that  which  constitutes  the  strength  and 
power  of  any  other  temporal  government. 
She  has  no  commercial  resources,  no  mili- 
tary organization,  or  any  of  those  other 
matters  without  which  the  permanency  of 
States  cannot  exist,  and  yet,  in  8pit€  of 
all  this  she  has  strength  and  influence,  and 
state  and  government." 


AVE      :M  A  R  I  A 


103 


Mcmorarc. 


Remember,  0  remember  sweet  ^lother,  none  can 

say 
That  thou  the  suppliant  (torn  thy  feet  dicbt  coldly 

turn  away ; 
Tho'  sinful,  sad,  and  weary,  this  thought  doth  trust 

restore, 
And  bending  low  before  thy  throne,  compassion  I 

implore. 
Under  thy  kind  protection  take  my  soul,  and  be 

to  nie 
A  Mothir  while  I  journey  here,  on  life's  tempestu- 
ous sea ; 
And  in  that  hour  that  seals  my  fate,  be  thou  my 

refuge  nigh 
Bearing  to  the  throne  of  God  the  penitent's  last 

sigh, 
ShieM  in  thy  tender  arms  the  loved  whose  names 

I  breatlie  to  tliee, 
Bring  me  and  mine,  sweet  Mother,  safe  thy  Son's 

dear  face  to  see. 


THE  FLEilLlIIXGS. 


BY   MRS.    ANXA    II.    DORSET. 

CHAPTER  IV. 
How  TOE  Day  passed,  and  now  it 

ENDED. 

Elder  Flemming  came  in  with  snow- 
shovels  and  gave  one  to  Patrick  McCue, 
and  they  went  out  to  search  among  the 
drifts  for  the  missing  ])ack.  Nearly  up 
to  their  shotilders  in  snow,  thoy  worked 
with  a  will,  clearing  a  space  around  the 
door  and  a  few  rods  beyon«l,  witliout  suc- 
cess, until  tlie  Irishman,  much  of  whose 
life  had  been  spent  in  warm,  sunny  lati- 
tudes, felt  disheartened  and  benumbed, 
and  would  have  given  up  the  search  and 
gone  back  to  the  tire;  but  the  sight  of 
Flemming,  whose  face  was  ruddy  with  ex- 
ercise, who  worked  on,  plying  his  shovel 
vigorously  while  he  tossed  the  great  drifts 
aside  as  lightly  as  a  ship  tosses  the  white 
foam  from  her  track  on  the  seas,  made  him 
ashamed,  and  he  bent  his  will  to  his  shiv- 


ering hands,  pitching  off  the  snow  here 
and  there  as  well  as  he  could,  seeing  that 
he  was  cold  and  nearly  out  of  breath — 
when  suddenly,  just  when  Flemming  him- 
self began  to  think  the  search  useless, 
there  it  lay  under  a  drift  he  had  finished 
shovelling  off,  just  where  the  broad  flagged 
footway  bordered  with  myrtle  turned  in 
from  the  road — its  leather  casing  still 
frozen,  but  otherwise  uninjured.  Patrick 
McCue  was  overjoyed,  and  would  have 
poured  out  his  thanks  on  the  spot  in  volu- 
ble eloquence  and  pious  invocations,  but 
the  Elder  hurried  in  to  avoid  hearing  them. 
*'  lie  had  done  h  is  duty,"  he  thought,  in  help- 
ing the  man  to  recover  his  pack,  but  that 
involved  no  obligation  on  him  to  listen  to 
his  idle  and  superstitious  prayers."  lie 
told  Reuben  to  show  Patrick  McCue  his 
sleeping  place  to  stow  his  pack  in,  and 
j^euben  turned  to  his  mother  to  know 
where  it  ought  to  be,  who  briefly  said : 
"  Over  father's  work-room;"  and  thither 
they  went.  It  was  a  good  enough  nook, 
furnished  with  a  cot,  one  or  two  chairs,  a 
table  on  which  lay  a  Bible,  and  an  old  spi- 
der-legged washstand,  with  cracked  basin 
and  pitcher — but  comfortless  looking  and 
bare.  However,  this  did  not  disturb  Pat- 
rick, who  was  thankful  to  have  a  place  to 
himself,  since  with  the  quick  perception 
of  his  nature  he  had  come  to  feel  himself 
unwelcome,  and  his  religion  abhorred. 
Here,  at  least,  he  could  bless  himself  in 
the  name  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  knowing  it 
to  be  the  sign  of  his  belief  in  a  crucified 
God,  whose  passion  and  death  it  kept  him 
reminded  of,  and  nourished  in  his  soul  the 
divine  virtues  of  Faith,  Hope,  and  Char- 
ity ;  Faith,  by  the  belief  it  signified  in  the 
death  of  the  Son  of  God  for  his  salva- 
tion ;  Hope,  nourished  and  increased  by 
this  belief;  Charity,  or  the  love  of  God, 
e.\cited  by  the  sacred  sign  Mhich  repre- 
sented to  him  the  love  which  God  showed 
mankind  by  dying  on  the  cross  for  him. 
No  wonder  Patrick  McCue  made  much  of 
the  sign  of  the  cross,  and  was  ready  to 
brave  peril  and  death  itself  for  its  sake ; 
no  wonder  he  was  glad  to  be  where  he 
could  bless  himself  to  his  heart's  content, 


104= 


AVE     MARIA. 


and  ask  the  intercession  of  the  Blessed 
Virgin  and  the  saints,  and  say  his  beads, 
and  pray  after  his  own  fashion  for  the  be- 
nighted souls  who  had  taken  hira  in  from 
perishing  in  the  snow,  without  let  or  hind- 
drance  ;  and  pray  for  tlieir  conversion  he 
would  to  the  day  of  his  death,  "  for,"  he 
reasoned,  "  they've  done  more  than  give 
me  a  cup  of  could  Avater  for  the  love  of 
God,  though  mcbbe  they  don't  know  it; 
and  it  is  unknownst  that  He  ever  let  sich 
like  actions  fall  to  the  ground  unnoticed. 
Any  way,  I'll  say  my  rosary  for  them, 
morn  and  night,  tho'  faith  !  it  does  seem 
like  thrying  to  move  a  mountain  to  pray 
for  their  conversion  ;  but  there's  nothing 
like  thrying,  and  if  my  faith's  no  bigger 
than  a  millet-seed,  I'll  trust  to  the  Blessed 
Virgin  and  the  saints  to  make  up  what  I 
lack."  All  these  thoughts  passed  through 
Patrick  McCue's  mind  Avhile  he  was  un- 
strapping his  pack,  never  uttering  a  word 
but  tugging  at  the  straps  and  buckles,  and 
unlocking  the  padlocks  at  each  end,  until 
finally  he  opened  it,  Reuben  looking  on 
with  all  the  natural  curiosity  of  a  boy,  to 
see  what  would  come  of  it.  The  pedler 
thrust  his  hand  into  the  depths  of  the 
pack  and  drew  out  a  small  crimson-cov- 
ered book,  blazoned  with  gilt,  and  alto- 
gether dazzling,  which  he  gave  with  a 
beaming  smile  to  Reuben,  saying:  "  Faith ! 
it's  the  very  one  I  was  looking  afther  ;  and 
do  you  take  it,  my  lad,  for  a  bit  of  keep- 
sake. It's  the  poems  of  my  countryman, 
Tommy  Moore,  and  you'll  find  the  beauti- 
fullest  things  in  it  that'll  do  to  pray  by, 
to  swear  by,  or  love  by ;  for  you  must 
know  he's  got  some  sacred  songs  there 
that  'ud  melt  the  sowl  of  you  ;  and  some 
of  the  stirringest  ditties  about  onld  Ire- 
land, that  rouses  the  blood  agin  the  Sas- 
senach till  it's  like  to  boil  over ;  aud  the 
love  songs,  honey,  bate  Bannagher — rale 
genuine  poetry ; — take  it,  my  lad,  with  a 
hearty  welcome."  And  Patrick  McCue 
thrust  it  into  Reuben's  willing  hand,  who 
could  have  fallen  upon  his  neck  and  kissed 
him  out  of  gratitude  for  a  new  book  ;  but 
after  the  first  glow  there  fell  a  sudden 
shame  upon  him,  and  he  said:    "I  have 


never  been  used  to  taking  gifts :  my  father 
will  give  me  money  to  buy  it  of  you  if  I 
ask  him;  but  I  thank  you,  sir,  indeed  I  do." 

"There's  no  money  could  buy  that  book, 
my  lad,  afther  I've  offered  it  as  a  free  gift; 
and  if  you  don't  take  it,  I'll  make  short 
work  of  it  by  putting  it  into  the  hottest 
place  I  can  find  under  the  logs  down 
tliere,"  said  Patrick  McCue,  buckling  up 
his  pack  with  an  irate  sparkle  in  his  dull 
eyes.  "  Where  I  came  from  it's  not  the 
way,  bedad,  to  slap  a  man  in  the  face  with 
a  gift  offered  out  of  gratitude,  as  if  he  was 
a  beggar,  too  mean  and  too  poor  to  be  no- 
ticed." Then  Reuben,  so  delicate  in  all 
his  perceptions,  felt  another  sort  of  shame, 
for  he  saw  that  he  had  wounded  the  heart 
of  one  who,  under  heavy  obligations  to 
them  all,  had  sought  in  this  spontaneous 
sort  of  a  way  to  show  his  gratitude  ;  and 
he  said  :  "  I  am  glad  to  have  the  book, 
Mr.  McCue,  only  I  Avas  afraid  I  might  be 
robbing  you  ;  but  I'll  take  it  with  jnany 
thanks,  and  keep  it  for  your  sake."  Then 
Reuben  opened  the  book  at  "Paradise  and 
the  Peri;"  his- greedy  eyes  devoured  the 
verses,  while  liis  imagination  and  heart, 
dazzled  and  gloAving,  felt  as  if  under  a 
spell  of  enchantment;  his  golden  hair  fell 
over  his  flushed  cheeks,  his  dreamy  eyes 
flashed  and  his  heart  swelled  Avith  great 
pulses  of  delight  while  he  read ;  indeed 
he  clean  forgot  Patrick  McCue  and  every- 
thing else,  until  suddenly  his  vision  of 
delight  Avas  dispelled  by  his  mother's 
voice  calling  them  Avith  rather  a  sharp 
accent  to  come  to  dinner ;  then  he  thanked 
the  peddler  again  in  his  warm  boyish  fash- 
ion and  put  the  book  into  his  pocket, 
feeling  richer  in  its  possesion  than  if 
some  one  had  giA'en  him  a  string  of  dia- 
monds. "  I  knew  you'd  like  it,"  said  Pat- 
rick with  a  kindly  smile;  then  they  Avent 
down  to  dinner. 

Mrs.  Flemming  felt  it  to  be  a  fiery  or- 
deal to  siUat  the  table  with  the  Irish  ped- 
dler; and  when  he  blessed  himself,  after 
the  Elder's  lengthy  and  sonorous  grace, 
she  winced  and  snapped  her  eyes  as  if  hot 
iron  had  touched  her  flesh,  but  said  noth- 
ing.    Then  the  Elder  began  to  ask  him 


AVE     MARIA 


105 


8omcqiK>8tion!«:ibout  Boston,  which  neither 
he  nor  any  of  hia  family  had  ever  visiteil, 
it  being  a  hundred  miles  distant,  and  in 
tliosc  days  the  facilities  for  travellinj;:  were 
few,  and  at  the  best  ditticult  as  well  as 
dangerous,  so  that  prudent  and  timid  men 
were  deterred  from  attempting  the  jour- 
ney ;  but  as  Patrick  could  give  him  but 
little  information  about  this  famous  New 
England  city,  except  that  he  was  arrested, 
fined  and  put  in  prison,  and  not  treated 
too  kindly  there,  "for  just  taking  a  suck 
at  his  pipe  Sunday  evening,  coming  from 
Vespers,  and  was  troubling  nobody  at  all 
wid  the  smoke  of  it,  being  in  the  open 
street ;  'bating  that,  it  seemed  to  be  a 
flourishing  sort  of  a  town,  but  it  looked 
small  to  him  just  landed  from  Dublin, 
where  the  English  sogers,  bad  as  they  be, 
lets  a  fellow  smoke  his  dudheen  day  in 
and  day  out  without  molesting  him." 

This  was  not  very  satisfactory  about 
Boston  to  any  one  except  Mrs.  Flemraing, 
who,  although  she  did  not  say  so,  was  de- 
lighted that  the  peddler  had  been  made  to 
sutler  for  breaking  the  Sabbath,  and  thought 
Boston  must  be  a  most  godly  place.  Then 
some  one  asked  him  about  his  voyage 
across  the  seas,  and  tlie  Elder  wanted  to 
know  something  about  vine-growing  in 
France ;  and  Patrick  McCue,  who  had 
travelled  here  and  there  with  his  eyes 
wide  open,  gave  such  pleasant  accounts 
of  it  all,  mixed  up  with  strange  and  per- 
ilous adventures,  and  now  and  then  such 
racy  descriptions  of  his  own  blunders, 
that  two  or  three  times  a  peal  of  hearty 
laughter  ran  around  the  board ;  and  Mrs. 
Flemming,  even  while  she  knitted  her 
brows  to  pretend  she  was  neither  inter- 
ested or  amused,  wished  to  herself  that 
"  Nicholas  were  there  to  enjoy  it  all." 
Eva  and  Hope  were  enchanted  ;  it  was  all 
new  to  them,  this  free  and  easy  way  of 
telling  things  they  had  been  dreaming  of 
all  their  lives,  and  thought  of  as  they 
thought  of  the  possibilities  of  the  moon, 
as  mythical  and  as  unattainble;  and  they 
were  sorry  when  there  was  no  more  pump- 
kin pie  to  be  eaten,  for  no  excuse  was  suf- 
ficient in  this  systematic   puritan   family 


to  linger  around  the  table  when  a  meal 
was  finished  ;  so  with  the  glamour  of  Pat- 
rick McCue's  adventures  like  a  new  atmos- 
phere around  them,  they  rose  from  their 
chairs,  standing  while  their  father  "  re- 
turned thanks  "  and  the  Irishman  made 
devoutly  the  blessed  sign  of  the  cross  upon 
himself,  which  gave  them  all  a  sensation 
like  the  sudden  discharge  of  a  pail  of  cold 
water  in  their  faces.  But  he  was  nothing 
daunted  ;  it  was  as  natural  to  the  spirit- 
ual life  of  him  to  make  this  blessed  sign 
as  it  was  to  his  natural  life  to  breathe,  and 
he  could  not  for  the  soul  of  him  under- 
stand how  any  rational  being,  who  was 
not  a  heathen,  could  object  to  a  symbol 
which  meant  so  much.  But  he  sat  down 
with  Mr.  Flemming,  and  smoked  with 
him,  and  fell  back  into  the  conversation 
which  was  interrupted  by  their  rising 
from  the  table  ;  and  later,  when  the  Elder 
went  away  to  his  "  workroom,"  and  Mrs. 
Flemming  started  to  go  and  look  after  the 
calf,  and  its  mother,  whose  udder  over-full 
made  her  low  complain ingly,  he  began  to 
tell  the  girls  about  the  dances  of  the 
Spanish  peasants,  and  a  bull-fight  he  saw 
in  Seville. 

"  I  say,  mother,"  called  the  Elder,  who 
saw  the  little  woman  flit  past  his  door, 
"  let  me  go ;  it  is  very  cold.  Go  back  to 
the  fire." 

"  Tut,"  she  replied,  coming  in  for  a 
moment,  "  Fm  not  so  old  or  thin-blooded, 
father,  that  I  can't  attend  to  my  own  bus- 
iness, and  all  under  shelter  too.  I'm 
warm  enough."  So  she  was,  for  the  fer- 
ment of  her  blood  over  the  papistical  ways 
of  Patrick  McCue  had  not  yet  cooled  off. 

"I  spoke  to  the  man  about  his  doings," 
began  Flemming. 

"I  wonder  now!"  exclaimed  she. 

"  I  did  indeed,  mother;  not  offensively, 
mind  you  ;  but  I  did.  I  told  him  that  his 
cross,  and  ])raying  to  the  saints,  was  an 
offense  to  the  simplicity  of  our  religion, 
and  asked  him  to  refrain  from  such  usage 
while  with  us." 

"  I  thought  you  couldn't  stand  it,  father, 
any  more  than  I,"  she  said  approvingly. 
"  And  what  did  he  say?" 


lot 


AVE      MARIA 


"  lie  got  np,  when  lie  understood  what 
T  meant,  buttoned  up  his  coat  and  put  oti 
hi8  hat,  and  was  about  going  out  into  the 
storm,  '  for,'  he  said,  '  rather  than  stay 
under  a  roof  where  he  dare  not  make  the 
sign  of  the  cross  upon  him,  heM  try  liis 
chances  in  the  snow;  and  if  lie  perishe<l 
God  would  be  merciful  to  hitn:'  and  he 
was  going,  mother — going,  remember,  to 
his  death ;  but  I  held  him  back,  seeing  his 
sincerity  in  being  ready  to  perish  for  what 
he  thought  right — and  told  liim  to  stay 
and  welcome,  that  his  conscience  should 
not  be  interfered  with  again." 

"That  was  manful  of  him,  father,  to  say 
the  least  of  it,"  said  Mrs.  Flemming  after 
a  thoughtful  pause.  "  It  beats  me,  though, 
that  a  man  should  be  ready  to  die  for  so 
small  a  thing  as  lliat." 

"  It  seems  so  at  first  thought;  but  as  he 
sees  it — mind,  mother,  as  he  sees  it — he 
would  have  felt  guilty  of  denying  his 
whole  Faith,  of  which  the  cross  is  a 
symbol,  by  putting  it  under  foot  at  any 
man's  bidding.  I  am  ashamed  to  have 
asked  him." 

"  Land  sake's,  father,  what  may  that  be? 
Listen  now  !  The  man  must  be  singing; 
singing  some  of  his  ungodly  songs  there, 
where  the  Word  has  been  read,  and  the 
hymns  of  Zion  have  been  sung  for  more 
than  a  thousand  years ;  and  now — I  wonder ! 
there's  a  jingle  like  sleigh-bells  keeping 
time.  Hope  and  Eva  sliall  come  away," 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Flemming,  making  a  move 
towards  the  door  to  call  them ;  but  Flem- 
ming laid  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder  and 
detained  her,  saying:  "Let  them  be, 
mother;  let  them  be.  The  young  and  un- 
regenerate  are  always  fond  of  novelties, 
and  we  must  be  wary  how  we  go  about 
pulling  up  the  tares,  lest  we  pull  up  good 
wheat  with  them.  They  are  good  chil- 
dren, according  to  the  natural  law,  and 
a  little  harmless  amusement  won't  harm 
them." 

"  Ah,  father  !  no  wonder  people  say  that 
you  are  wanting  in  orthodox  discipline  in 
your  over  indulgence  of  your  children.  It 
wasn't  so  in  my  young  days.  But  I  can't 
stay  here  another   minute;    that  cow   is 


needing    me,"    said  Mrf.    Flemming,   in 
tones  of  reproof. 

Yes,  it  was  Patrick  McCue,  singing. 
Feeling  more  genial  after  the  bull-fight, 
he  began  to  tell  Hope  and  Eva  about  the 
Spanish  muleteers,  and  ended  by  singing  a 
muleteer  song  while  he  accompanied  him- 
self by  softly  jingling  the  tongs  against 
the  brass  globe  of  one  of  the  andirons,  in 
such  good  time  and  with  such  light  touches 
that  the  girls  almost  imagined  themselves 
on  some  ronjantic  slope  of  the  Sierra 
Nevada,  listening  to  the  bells  of  the  mules 
and  the  songs  of  their  leader  as  they 
wound  away  among  the  mountain  passes, 
far  above  the  blue  waters  of  the  Guadal- 
quivir. It  was  a  treat  to  these  isolated 
young  things,  a  novelty  so  enjoyable,  to 
hear  the  music  and  language  of  other  lands 
sung  in  a  clear  flexible  tenor  which  was 
melody  itself,  that  they  forgot  everything 
— even  Bunyan's  picture  of  the  Pope  sitting 
at  the  door  of  a  cave,  with  bones  and 
skulls  strewn  around,  watching  like  an 
ogre  for  unwary  pilgrims,  to  devour  them 
body  and  soul — and  asked  for  more,  and 
yet  more,  until  the  old  black  rafters  rang 
again  with  the  songs  of  old;  they  forgot 
their  wholesome  dread  of  displeasing  their 
little  mother;  ihey  forgot  Patrick  McCue's 
homely  face  and  red  head,  his  superstitions 
and  idolatries,  while  his  voice,  like  one  of 
those  exquisitely  toned  old  Straduarius 
violins  in  its  clumsy  weatherworn  case, 
uncultivated  but  rarely  sweet,  melted  into 
some  of  the  ballads  of  his  own  Emerald 
Isle,  which  he  sang  with  such  pathos  that 
the  sewing  dropped  from  their  fingers 
moistened  with  tears  that  they  took  no 
note  of.  In  the  midst  of  it  all,  a  sudden 
illumination  glorified  the  room:  a  sharp 
bright  gleam  of  sunlight  burst  through 
the  western  window — the  prison-gates 
were  open,  and  the  golden  gleams  swept 
through  broken  bars  of  cloud,  fringing  the 
black  overhanging  edges  above  with  brill- 
iance, and  crowning  the  snow  clad  mount- 
ain peaks  with  diadems  of  iridescent 
light,  and  their  slopes  with  a  tissue  of 
spangled  silver:  while  the  scattered  snow- 
flakes,  large  and  fleecy,  that  fell  slowly 


AVE     ISIARIA. 


107 


here  and  there  geinnuMl  and  reddened  by 
the  settinjj;  sun,  floated  in  the  air  like  the 
plnniaffevf  8onie  tropii-al  bird  swept  cap- 
tive by  the  storm-winds  from  lier  nest  in 
the  nutmeg  trees  of  the  Orient.  With  a 
joyous  cry  Eva  and  Hope  sprang  to  the 
window,  wlnle  Patrick  McCue  Imiled  the 
sunset  splendors  as  a  sign  of  promise  and 
home. 

The  nigljt  was  cloudless,  and  the  distant 
ridges  and  crests,  the  far-off  peaks  and 
boulders,  the  nearer  slopes  of  the  mount- 
ains, all  glistening  in  robes  of  crystal  as 
the  full  moon  anointed  them  with  silvery 
chrisms,  rose  silent  and  beautiful  beneath 
the  spangled  heavens,  while  Orion,  glitter- 
ing in  full  armor,  seemed  to  rest  his  jew- 
elled sandals  upon  their  proud  heads. 
There  was  no  human  sound  to  disturb  this 
gnu  I  rypose,  only  a  low  quivering  chime 
rang  out  softly  now  and  then,  whenever 
the  wind  soughed  through  the  glittering 
ice-covered  trees  of  the  forest  belts,  smit- 
ing them  like  cymbals  with  a  soft  clash 
together.  But  presently  a  confused  sound 
of  voices,  full  oi  lusty  cheer,  intermingled 
with  chorus  and  huz/.a,  was  heard  in  the 
distance,  drawing  nearer  and  nearer  to- 
wards the  "Old  Homestead,"  and  before 
long  the  cause  appeared.  The  young  men 
of  the  country-side,  led  by  Nicholas  Flem- 
raing  and  John  Wilde,  were  out  with  their 
ox  teams,  their  heavy  sleighs  and  snow- 
shovels,  breaking  the  road  by  moonlight, 
and  when  they  got  sight  of  the  lights 
gleaming  through  door  and  window  of  the 
"  Old  Homestead,"  their  cheers  rang  out 
loud  and  clear  on  the  night,  while  the 
panting  oxen  and  tired  horses,  scenting 
the  well  filled  racks,  put  forth  all  their 
sinewy  strength  to  get  to  theni.  Mrs. 
Flemming  was  soon  clasped  in  the  arms 
of  her  great  broad-shouldered  son,  who, 
"bearded  like  a  pard,"  lifted  his  little 
mother  up  and  kissed  her  fondly,  while 
she  whispered:  "Thank  God  that  you  are 
safe,  Nicholas;  I  have  had  an  uneasy 
time  about  you." 

"  And  I  up  there  at  the  Deacon's,  having 
the  best  time  I  ever  ha«l  in  my  life,"  he 
said  laughing,  as  he  put  her  down   to  kiss 


his  sisters,  shake  hands  with  his  father, 
and  pull  Reuben's  golden  hair:  then  all 
of  a  sudden  he  saw  Patrick  McCue  and  he 
exclaimed  :  "  Hilloa,  you  here  !  I  thought 
the  wolves  had  eaten  you,  my  friend ;" 
while  he  shook  him  heartily  by  the  hand. 

"And  Pm  sure,  sir,  afWr  we  crossed 
each  other  up  yonder  last  night,  I  never 
expected  to  see  you  alive  again ;  but  you 
see  how  things  come  together.  While 
Almighty  God  was  holding  you  in  safe 
keeping,  your  people  here  saved  ray  life; 
may  the  Blessed  Mother  of  God  reward 
them,"  answered  the  irrepressible  Patrick, 
with  beaming  cauntenance. 

"Hilloa!  The  what ?  but  never  mind, 

it's  a  free  country.  Mother,  get  us  some 
supper.  John  Wilde  don't  want  any  ;  but 
Pm  hungry  enough,  I  can  tell  you."  John 
Wilde  and  Hope  were  standing  apart,  he 
still  holding  the  hand  she  had  held  out  to 
welcome  him,  whispering  words  to  each 
other  that  brought  a  softer  light  into  their 
eyes  and  kindled  a  warmer  glow  upon 
their  cheeks,  for  they  were  betrothed  lovers. 
[to  be  coxtixued.] 


Foundation  of  a  Daily  .llass. 

FOB  THE  ERECTION  OF  A  XEW  CHURCH  AT 
NOTRE  DAME. 

Gratitude  to  our  Blessed  Mother  for  the 
many  blessings  obtained  through  her  pow- 
erful intercession  ever  since  the  foundation 
of  this  house,  has  urged  us  to  begin  at 
once  the  execution  of  a  project  we  have 
entertained  for  some  years  past,  viz:  to 
build  a  church  at  Notre  Dame — not  merely 
an  edifice  suitable  in  size  to  the  want  of 
both  studentw  and  community,  but  a  church 
worthy  in  some  mannner  of  the  glorious 
Pitroaess  of  the  place.  Our  Lidy  of  the 
Sacred  Heart  of  Jesus.  Though  we  feel 
convinced  that  all  the  friends  of  Notre 
Dame,  and  all  the  fervent  children  of  Mary, 
would  freely  and  generously  aid  in  the 
un<lerlaking  without  other  hope  of  recom- 
pense than   the  satisfaction  of  having  as- 


lOB 


AVE      MARIA. 


sisted  in  bnilding  up  a  magnificent  church  in 
lionor  of  Our  Lady,  and  erecting  a  monu- 
ment worthy  of  her  in  tlie  United  States,  of 
which  she  is  the  glorious  Patron,  yet  we 
offer  inducements  to  aid  in  the  work  which 
vre  hope  will  be  motives  not  only  for  the 
pious  and  zealous  children  of  Mary,  but  for 
all  catholics,  even  those  who  do  not  yet, 
but  who  soon  will,  fully  realize  that  the 
surest  and  quickest  way  to  the  Sacred 
Heart  of  Jesus  is  to  obtiiin  the  protection 
and  help  of  His  Blessed  Mother. 

There  will  be  established  a  daily  Mass, 
to  commence  on  the  3l8t  of  May  1869,  to 
be  said  for  fifty  years,  for  all  those  who 
shall  contribute  $50  to  the  erection  of  the 
church. 

Any  offering  less  than  $50  will  entitle 
the  giver  to  the  fruits  of  the  daily  Mass 
from  the  31st  of  May,  1869,  up  to  the  ded- 
ication of  the  church. 

Our  Right  Rev.  Bishop  has  already 
given  a  cordial  approbation  to  the  Found- 
ation ;  persons  who  could  not  easily  give  at 
once  $50,  can  pay  in  installments. 

W.  COKBY,  S.   S.    C. 


We  commend  the  undertaking  to  the 
protection  of  Our  Lady  of  the  Sacred  Heart, 
by  whose  intercession  we  hope  to  see  again 
our  friends,  as  heretofore,  generously 
contributing  to  the  cause  of  religion, 
to  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  honor  of 
our  Immaculate  Mother,  Patroness  of  our 
country. 

A.  Geanger,  S.  S.  C, 
Provincial. 


Obituary. 


Very  Rev.  Johx  Stiebel,  Vicar  Gen- 
eral of  this  Diocese,  and  Pastor  of  St. 
Mary's  church,  Allegheny,  died  at  a  qujirter 
to  two  o'clock  on  the  afternoon  of  the  13th 
inst. 

The  sorrow,  deep  and  crushing,  with 
which  the  announcement  was  received  by 
the  thousands  who  knew  and  admired,  and 


loved  and  revered  this  holy  priest,  is  the 
strongest  proof  of  the  charity,  zeal,  pru- 
dence, and  success  which  marked  his  life. 
Not  alone  amongst  the  members  of  his 
own  tiock,  nor  even  amongst  the  Germans 
of  the  diocese,  to  whose  spiritual  welfare 
he  more  particularly  devoted  himself,  but 
among  all  who  had  the  interests  of  our 
holy  religion  at  heart,  all  who  could  ap- 
preciate the  character,  and  value  the  merits 
of  Father  Stiebel,  will  his  death  be  a  cause 
of  mourning.  All  those  that  knew  him, 
whether  within  or  without  the  Church, 
could  not  but  be  edified  at  the  holiness  of 
his  life,  the  heartiness  with  which  he 
threw  himself  into  any  work  that  charity 
pointed  out  to  him,  the  unswerving  fidelity 
with  which  he  pursued  the  career  opened 
out  to  him  in  his  vocation. — Pittsburgh 
Catholic. 

Very  Rev.  Terexce  J.  Dowoghoe, 
Vicar  General,  Dubuque,  Iowa,  and  found- 
er of  the  Sisters  of  Charity,  B.  V.  M.,  or 
Sisters  of  the  Ten  Commandments,  died 
at  his  residence,  a  few  miles  from  Dubuque, 
on  January  5th,  in  his  76th  year.  Deceased 
was  ordained  in  the  Diocese  of  Philadel- 
phia, where  he  labored  with  untiring  zeal 
as  the  associate  of  the  late  Archbishop 
Hughes  for  many  years.  He  was  a  man 
of  most  exemplary  and  edifying  life,  of 
great  kindness  of  disposition,  and  an  honor 
and  ornament  to  the  ministry. 


Feast  of  the  Crown  of  Thorns. 


February  12. 


Every  Friday  of  Lent  is  set  apart  by  the 
Church  to  commemorate  some  portion  of 
our  Divine  Redeemer's  dolorous  Passion. 
On  the  first  Friday  we  commemorate  the 
"Feast  of  the  Crown  of  Thorns;"  the  sec- 
ond Friday  "The  Lance  and  the  Nails" 
that  pierced  His  sacred  feet;  the  third  Fri- 
day "His  bloody  sweat  in  the  Garden  of 
Olives;"  the  fourth  is  the  "Festival  of  the 


AVK      MARIA 


109 


Five  Wounds;"  the  fifth  Friday  commem- 
orates "Our  Divine  Saviour's  Most  Prec- 
ious Blood;"  the  sixtli  "The  Coni]»us8ion 
ot'IIis  most  afflicted  Motlier;"  and  the  sev- 
entli  the  infinite  price  |>ai<l  for  our  Redemp- 
tion by  the  crucifixion  on  Mount  Calvary. 

In  striking  contrast  with  the  materialis- 
tic spirit  of  the  nineteenth  century  is  the 
catholic  spirit,  whicli  in  all  ages  has  ani- 
niate<i  the  Church,  drawing  the  souls  of 
all  her  children  to  the  closest  communion 
with  our  Lord  in  His  sacred  humanity; 
hence  we  have  these  festivals,  commemo- 
rating not  only  the  events'of  His  life  upon 
earth,  but  also  recalling  the  place  of  His 
labors  or  the  instruments  of  His  Passion. 
It  is  the  spirit  that  animates  all  her  festi- 
vals, and,  in  proportion  as  a  nation  pre- 
serves the  faith,  it  permeates  all  her  social 
feasts  and  gala  days — so  that  often  some 
ordinary  circumstance  becomes  the  in- 
centive to  acts  of  heroic  virtue  and  deeds 
of  generosity  and  sanctity  whose  good  in- 
fluences rest  upon  the  ages  to  come.  The 
following  narrative  is  but  one  of  a  thou- 
sand which  illustrates  this  faith  of  the 
catholic  heart,  as  it  tells  us  how  the 
"Feast  of  the  Crown  of  Thorns,"  some 
four  hundred  years  ago,  brought  sanctity 
to  one,  and  blessings  to  many — even  down 
to  our  own  days — in  the  good  old  city  of 
Lille. 

Perchance  the  narration  of  such  deeds 
may  increase  the  spirit  of  generosity  in 
our  own  midst  for  the  endowment  of  hos- 
pitals, asylums  and  churches.  With  this 
hope  let  us  turn  to  our  history,  and  show 
how  all  Lille  was  keeping  holiday,  and 
the  pale  beams  of  a  February  sun  which 
for  hours  h.id  been  waging  a  doubtful 
strife  with  the  dull  grey  clouds,  shone  upon 
a  brilliant  cavalcade  that  was  passing 
through  the  crowded  streets,  on  its  way  to 
the  market-place  in  the  centre  of  the  town. 
All  the  wealth  and  luxury  which  a  pros- 
perous commerce  and  an  ever  restless  in- 
dustry enabled  the  Flemings  of  that  day 
to  display,  seemed  to  be  paraded  in  the 
gorgeous  procession,  lialf  religious,  half 
chivalrous  in  character,  which,  as  it  fol 
lowed  the  <levious  course  of  the  Gothic- 


built  streets,  looked  like  some  winding 
stream  cheipiered  with  divers  bright  and 
lively  colors.  Nothing  was  to  be  seen  but 
one  long  fluttering  array  of  velvet  and 
silk,  coats-of-arms  richly  emblazoned,  prec- 
ious jewels  sparkling  on  the  breastK  or  in 
the  caps  of  the  numerous  horsemen,  while 
the  steeds  themselves,  tall  and  strong,  and 
caparisoned  with  no  less  elegance  than 
splendor,  arche<l  their  j)roud  necks  and 
tossed  their  noble  hea<ls  as  if  conscious  of 
the  stately  plumes  with  which  they  were 
adorned.  In  the  centre  of  the  cavalcade, 
mounted  on  a  bay  horse,  advanced  a  young 
man  of  engaging  appearance,  clad  in  mag- 
nificent armor,  and  carrying  in  his  hand  a 
thorn-branch  as  though  it  had  been  a  scep- 
tre. Four  young  girls  on  horseback,  splen- 
didly apparelled,  held  the  gilded  reins  of 
the  steed  on  which  rode  the  hero  of  the 
fete;  and  before  him  went  a  squire,  bear- 
ing his  escutcheon  of  gules  with  a  chevron 
of  gold.  The  martial  clang  of  the  trum- 
pets sounded  merrily  through  the  market- 
place, and  the  people  thronged  together 
from  all  sides,  crying  "HurralO  hurrah! 
long  live  Sir  Joy!  Long  live  the  King  of 
the  Thorn  I" 

The  procession,  after  traversing  the 
street  of  St.  Peter,  had  passed  in  front  of 
the  venerable  collegiate  church  dedicated 
to  the  Prince  of  the  Apostles,  and  the  pal- 
ace of  La  Salle,  the  ancient  residence  of 
the  counts  of  Flanders,  part  of  which  has 
been  converted  into  a  hospital;  thence, 
leaving  on  the  left  the  castle  of  Couitray, 
with  its  cluster  of  sharp-pointed  turrets, 
it  swept  along  the  street  now  called  the 
Grande  Chaussee,  and  reached  the  large 
square  which  lies  to  the  north  of  the  ma- 
jestic church  of  St.  Stephen. 

There  might  be  seen  that  fountain  so  fa- 
mous for  its  beauty,  and  the  graceful  chapel 
to  which  popular  admiration  had  given  the 
name  of  "  The  Gem," — both  long  since 
left  to  fall  to  ruin,  or  destroyed  by  revo- 
lutionary fury.  The  inclosure  prepared  for 
the  tournament  was  strewn  with  fijie  sand, 
and  surrounded  by  barriers  decorated  with 
the  colors  of  the  town — gules  and  gold. 
The  leading  magistrates,  and  strangers  of 


110 


AVE      MARIA 


distinction,  were  ranged  on  a  platform 
gaily  arraycMl  with  tapestry  and  awning. 
The  niarslials  of  the  tourney  kept  the  en- 
trance to  tlie  lists,  which  they  now  threw 
open  as  the  cavalcade  approached.  Proc- 
lamation was  then  made,  in  the  name  of 
the  King  of  the  Thorn,  that  he  and  his 
company  were  ready  then  and  there  to  do 
battle  with  all  comers  from  the  various 
towns  of  Flanders,  and  especially  from 
Valenciennes,  Ghent,  Ypres  and  Bruges. 
A  golden  hawk  was  the  prize  of  the  tour- 
nament, to  be  presented  to  the  victor  by 
the  hand  of  a  fair  lady.  And  who  would 
not  deem  that,  in  time  so  remote,  nobles 
and  nobles  only  were  the  actors  in  a  scene 
of  80  much  grandeur  and  beauty  ?  But  it 
■was  not  so :  the  fete  was  conducted  by 
burg]  en,  an  I  1  urghors  only,  arr.  n  e  1  and 
furnished  all ;  their  activity,  independence 
and  energy  of  spirit  raised  these  Flemish 
citizens — merchants  and  traders  as  they 
were — to  a  level  with  the  proudest  knights 
that  ever  graced  the  chivalry  of  Eng- 
land or  France.  We  shall  not  here  re- 
count the  gallant  deeds  of  aims  per- 
formed by  the  good  burghers  of  Lille  in 
these  their  courtly  lists,  wherein,  sooth  to 
say,  coolness  a»id  dexterity  were  needed 
more  than  strength  or  warlike  bravery ; 
for  they  who  originated  this  noble  pageant 
meant  to  furnish  a  generous  and  a  manly 
pastime,  not  a  sanguinary  fray. 

The  Festival  of  the  Thorn,  which  drew 
such  multitudes  to  Lille,  was  instituted  in 
the  year  1220,  in  the  reign  of  Philip  Au- 
gustus. Every  year  the  magistrates  chose 
a  "king"  to  preside  at  the  jousts,  ban- 
quets, and  letes  by  which  his  reign  was 
signalized.  This  king  was  to  be  a  burgher 
of  honest  family,  and  at  the  same  time  a 
r  an  of  fair  name  and  goodly  substance. 
His  duties  were  onerous:  he  must  possess 
such  a  liberal  spirit  as  would  conciliate 
all  parties,  and  a  purse  adequate  to  provide 
entertainment  for  his  fellow-citizens  with 
becoming  dignity  and  splendor.  With 
these  public  festivities  religious  practices 
were  always  united.  Immediately  after 
his  election,  the  king  proceeded  with  his 
subjects    to    the    Dominican    convent   to 


venerate  a  precious  relic,  a  thorn  out  of 
our  Saviour's  crown  ;  which  done,  they  re- 
paired to  the  church  of  the  Templars,  to 
pay  their  devotions  to  St.  George  the 
Martyr,  whom  the  Flemings  h:ive  held  in 
special  honor,  and  at  whose  altar,  as  the 
patron  of  christian  chivalry,  the  victor  in 
the  jousts  hung  up  his  armor. 

The  king  chosen  in  the  year  1441,  in  the 
reign  of  the  great  duke  of  Burgundy, 
Philip  the  Good,  possessed  all  the  quali- 
fications of  character  and  fortune  required 
for  the  exercise  of  the  functions  of  his 
mimic  royalty.  His  name  was  John  de  la 
Cambe,  after  his  native  place.  He  was  of 
cheerful,  cordial  disposition,  frank  and 
courteous  to  all,  and  one  who  discharged 
the  duties  of  his  office  with  vivacity  and 
order.  After  the  tournament,  in  which  he 
had  generously  yielded  the  prize  of  victory 
to  an  opponent  from  the  town  of  Valen- 
ciennes, he  repaired  with  his  brilliant 
train  to  the  monastery  of  the  Friars- 
Preachers.  The  Thorn,  which  had  been 
presented  to  tlie  religious  by  the  Countess 
Jane,  was  placed  high  above  the  altar  in  a 
magnificent  reliquary  amidst  a  thousand 
burning  tapers ;  the  king  threw  himself  on 
his  knees  before  it,  and  immediately  an 
extraordinary  ch  inge  was  observed  to  pass 
over  his  coutenance;  the  brightness  and 
animation  which  had  flushed  and  lighted 
up  his  features  were  succeeded  by  an  ex- 
pression of  the  most  profound  devotion ; 
all  remembrance,  all  consciousness  of  the 
stirring  scene  from  which  he  had  just  come, 
and  of  all  the  pomp  and  circumstances 
with  which  he  was  still  surrounded, 
seemed  in  an  instant  to  have  gone  from 
him;  so  intense,  so  marvellous  was  his 
deafness  to  all  outward  things,  that  it 
looked  less  like  abstr.uition  than  rap- 
ture. And  so  indeed  it  was:  he  saw  not 
the  jewels  nor  the  lights;  his  soul  was 
wholy  filled  with  the  contemplation  of 
Him  whose  brow  that  thorn  had  lacer- 
ated ;  it  was  as  if  he  beheld  the  Prec- 
ious Blood  oozing  from  each  puncture 
and  covering  that  Sacred  Cowntenance 
with  its  coagulat<?d  stream,  while  an  in- 
ward voice  seemed   to  say:    "His  visage 


AVE      MARIA 


111 


shall  be  inglorious  among  men,  ami  His 
lurin  ninoiig  the  sous  ot  men."  His  com- 
punions  were  astonished  at  the  length  of 
hiH  devotions,  and  his  esquire  Pi  rron 
grew  imputient,  and  could  scarcely  restrain 
the  chating  steed  that  stood  prancing  and 
pawing  the  ground  at  the  door  ol"  the 
church.  It  was  long  before  John  de  la 
Cambe  reappeared.  The  trumpets  sounded 
and  the  gray  cavalcade  went  glittering 
through  the  streets,  amidst  the  acclama- 
tions of  the  people.  But  a  far  difterent 
sight  was  before  his  eyes,  and  far  different 
cries  in  his  ears:  he  saw  One  sitting 
crowned  with  thorns  aniidst  jibes  and 
cruel  niookings,  and  He  hid  not  His  face 
from  shame  and  spittitig. 

Twenty  years  have  rolled  away  since  the 
splendid  pageant  we  have  just  described. 
As  then,  John  de  la  Cambe  is  a  citizen  of 
Lille;  as  then,  he  is  rich  and  highly 
esteemed;  no  change  is  visible  in  his 
worldly  condition,  but  a  complete  trans- 
formation has  taken  place  in  his  individual 
life.  Detached  from  the  world  and  its 
illusions,  and  emptied  of  the  love  of  crea- 
tures, his  heart  is  tilled  with  a  boundless 
love  of  God  and  his  brethren  ;  and  every 
d;iy  that  burning  charity  is  exercised  in 
most  admirable  acts  of  faith,  mercy,  and 
devotion.  Not  content  with  magnificently 
adorning  the  churches  of  the  town,  and 
promoting  the  general  good  by  numerous 
pious  foundations,  he  is  the  father  of  the 
poor,  the  nurse  of  the  suffering;  the  ten- 
derness which  saints  have  lavished  on 
these  dearest  children  of  Christ's  family 
had  its  counterpart  in  him.  Widows,  or- 
phans, the  sick  and  friendless,  found  their 
way  to  that  mansion  at  whose  threshold 
they  were  sure  to  meet  with  a  ready  wel- 
come. It  was,  above  all,  during  a  grievous 
famine,  which  desolated  Flanders  in  the 
year  1461,  that  John  de  la  Cambe  exhibited 
that  profuseness  of  charity  which  made  his 
house  the  refuge  of  the  destitute.  God, 
who  is  love,  ofttimes  kindles  in  the  breasts 
of  His  electa  spark  of  His  own  ineffable 
compassion,  as  if  to  comfort  the  poor  and 
needy  with  a  visible  token  of  His  most 
merciful  providence.     Blessed  is  he  who 


opens  his  heart  to  this  grace;  blessed  is 
he  who  watches   over  the  wants  of  the  af- 
lllcted!     *^The  Lord  shall  deliver  him  in 
the  day  of  sorrow ;  the  Lord  shall  make 
all  his  be<l  in  his  sickness."     The  famine 
liad  long  prevailed,  and  the  distress  of  the 
people  increased  from  day  to  day;  so  nu- 
merous were  the  unha))py  creatures   who 
continually  besieged  the  doors  of' this  good 
citizen  of  Lille,  that  his  resources,  large  as 
they  were,  were  at  length  exhausted.     His 
granaries  were  empty;  all  the  corn  they 
contained   had  been  cast  with  unsparing 
hand  into  the  lap  of  the  poor;  and   still 
fresh  supplicants  came,  still  gaunt  forms, 
with   famished  faces,  looked   to   him,  and 
clamored,  too,  for  aid,  and  lean  and  wasted 
hands   knocked    at    the   gate    which   ever 
opened   at    the   touch    or   cry  of  the  dis- 
tressed.    John  gave  the  wretched  people 
the  last  victuals  in  his  larder,  the  last  coin 
in  his  purse;  and  none  who  asked  in  the 
name  of  Jesus  Christ  went  away  empty. 
The  domestics  loudly  murmured;  Pier- 
ron,   his    old    esquire,    above   all:    "*Our 
master,"  said  he,  "will  leave  us  nothing 
but    empty   bag    and    i)latter."      But    his 
grumbling   did   not   disturb    the    unalter- 
able   sweetness   and    untiring   charity   of 
the  once  King  of  the  Thorn.     One  day  a 
poor  woman  came  to  the  door,  all  in  tears, 
pale  and  feeble,  begging,  for  the  love  of 
God,  but  one    handful  of   corn.     It   was 
Pierron  liimself  who  Ment  to  the  gate,  and 
history  stiys  that   he  did   not  receive  lier 
very  kindly.      However  he  informed    his 
master  what  she  wanted.    John  was  touched 
with  compassion,  and  he  said  to  Pierron 
with  much  emotion,  "Go  to  the  granary, 
my  son;  sweep   the  floor,  if  need  l)e,  and 
let  this  poor  creature  have  all  you  can  col- 
lect."    At  these  words  Pierron  could   no 
longer  contain  himself:   "Did  his  master 
not  know   that   the   granary  was   empty  ? 
that    the  floor   had    been   swept  perfectly 
clean  long,  long  ago."     John  was  not  the 
least  shaken;  he  gently  insisted  and  Pier- 
ron was  obliged  to  obey.     He  went  grum- 
bling up  the  granary  steps.     To  liis   sur- 
prise, when  he  pushed  at  the  door,  he  found 
some  extraordinary  resistance,  but  by  an 


112 


AVE     MARIA 


effort  he  forced  it  open  ;  the  next  moment 
he  had  fallen  on  his  knees  at  the  threshold. 
The  granary  he  had  left  empty  was  as  full 
of  wheat  as  it  could  hold;  the  precious 
golden  grain  lay  heaped  up  as  high  as 
the  rafters  of  the  roof,  and  streamed  out 
through  the  open  door.  It  was  manna 
from  heaven,  which  the  Lord  had  sent 
down  for  His  poor  at  the  prayer  of  His 
servant;  for  God  doeth  the  will  of  them 
that  fear  Him ;  the  God  of  Israel  is  good 
unto  all  that  call  upon  Him !  Pierron 
rushed  down  the  steps,  and  with  a  sample 
of  the  miraculous  corn  in  his  hand  threw 
himself  weeping  and  repentant  at  the  feet 
of  his  master.  The  prodigy  was  soon 
noised  through  the  town,  and  John  had 
the  consolation  on  this  day  of  filling  the 
multitudes  who  came  to  beg  a  share  in 
the  bounty  of  heaven,  and  nevertheless 
retaining  wherewith  to  satisfy  the  large- 
ness of  his  charity  on  future  occasions. 
But  charity  so  heroic  was  desirous  of 
extending  its  mercies  to  generations  still 
to  come.  John  de  la  Cambe  founded 
at  Lille  a  hospital  for  the  reception  of 
thirteen  old  people,  men  and  women,  the 
poorest  and  most  infirm  that  could  be 
found,  and  committed  them  to  the  care  of 
eight  religious  of  the  Augustinian  rule. 
lie  placed  this  foundation  under  the  pat- 
ronage of  St.  John  Baptist,  and  amply  en- 
dowed it  by  the  gift  of  the  house  he  in- 
habited in  the  street  des  Malades^  as  well 
as  of  a  considerable  tract  of  land,  situa- 
ted for  the  most  part  in  Belgium,  on  the 
confines  of  Holland.  This  pious  and  char- 
itable foundation  has  survived  the  ravages 
of  war  and  the  storms  of  revolution.  The 
house  of  John  de  la  Cambe  still  exists; 
the  walls  that  beheld  his  numerous  works 
of  mercy,  and  witnessed  that  most  touch- 
ing miracle  which  God  granted  to  His 
servant's  prayers  are  still  stau.ling.  They 
have  not  ceasel  to  serve  as  an  asylum 
for  the  destitute  and  infirm;  the  nuns 
of  St.  Augustine  have  never  ceased  for 
four  centuries  to  nurse  and  tend  the  poor 
of  Christ  beneath  those  hospitable  roofs. 
The  old  town  of  Lille,  once  the  favorite 
abode  of  the  counts  of  Flanders  and  the 


dukes  of  Burgundy,  has  changed  its  as- 
pect a  thousand  times  under  the  divers 
rulers  who  have  held  it.  That  one  lit- 
tle plot  of  ground  alone,  consecrated  to 
God  and  to  His  poor,  has  retained  its  orig- 
inal destination  and  its  traditionary  re- 
nown ; — token  of  the  immortality  which 
God  has  bestowed,  even  in  this  world,  on 
works  of  charity. 

The  subject  of  the  above  legend  was 
thrice  married.  He  was  a  master  trades- 
man, and  dealt  in  marble  and  alabaster. 
The  miraculous  supply  of  corn  is  attested 
by  the  historian  Buzelin,  in  his  "  Annals  of 
French  Flanders,"  *  and  by  an  unbroken 
tradition.  The  granary  which  was  the 
scene  of  so  astonishing  an  interposition 
of  Providence  is  still  extant,  and  bears 
the  name  of  the  "  Granary  of  Miracles." 
It  now  forms  part  of  the  dormitory  of  the 
pensioners  and  in  a  silver  reliquary  are 
still  preserved  some  grains  of  the  wheat 
so  miraculously  multiplied. 

The  hospital  has  for  some  time  been 
used  as  an  asylum  for  persons  of  bro- 
ken fortune,  and  for  this  purpose  several 
new  foundations  have  been  added.  At 
present  only  women  are  received,  and 
of  these  the  number  is  considerable. 
There,  to  this  day,  may  be  seen  the  fair 
and  spacious  dormitories,  the  ancient  hall, 
adorned  with  carvings  of  rich  and  quaint 
design,  serving  now  for  work-chamber  and 
common  sitting-room  and  the  refectory  of 
the  nuns,  and  hung  with  paintings  of  rare 
value.  His  portrait,  which  has  no  artist's 
name  upon  it,  is -painted  on  a  diptych,  or 
folding  tablet,  and  is  after  the  style  of  the 
old  Flemish  school,  which  was  remarkable 
for  its  minute  elaboration  of  details  and  ac- 
curacy of  execution.  The  St.  John  Bap- 
tist represented  on  the  letl  wing  appears 
to  be  of  a  more  recent  date,  and  may  per- 
haps have  taken  the  place  of  the  founder's 
wife.  The  arms  of  John  de  la  Cambe  are 
emblazoned  on  the  back. 


*  Book  I. 


A  rash  judgment  is  the  offspring  of  an 
idle  soul. 


AVE   MARIA. 

31  (Catholic  ;Souvni;l  devoted  to  the  |iouor  of  the  ^Ut^M  ^irgitt 


Vol.  V. 


NOTBE  DAME.  IITDIAKA.  FEBRUABT  20,  1868. 


Vo.  8. 


Mary  the  Key  to  Mystery. 


Tho  scientific  world  is  occupied  in  dis- 
solving Truth,  placing  it  in  a  crucible  over 
earthly  fire,  testing  its  component  particles 
by  worldly  principles,  destroying  its  lite, 
and  then  analyzing  its  dead  members  in 
order  .to  discover  what  these  members  are 
calculated  to  do,  how  they  ought  to  act, 
what  results  they  are  formed  to  bring 
about. 

Can  a  lifeless  body — even  when  every 
muscle  is  laid,  open,  when  every  nerve  is 
bared — give  an  idea  of  the  strong  vigor 
of  life?  Can  it  disclose  the  mystery  of  a 
thought?  tell  how  ideas  are  formed?  or 
unravel  the  enigma  of  instincts  seizing  on 
the  action  that  is  best  calculated  to  pre- 
serve them  in  existence? 

In  a  word,  can  a  disjointed  corpse  por- 
tray to  us  the  grand  existence,  the  stirring 
motive  powers,  the  glowing  aims,  the  vig- 
orous action  of  an  intelligent  well-regu- 
lated man? 

If  not,  we  have  at  least  a  reason  why 
man  cannot  by  his  materialistic  researches 
discover  Truth ;  something  always  escapes 
him, — something  intangible,  invisible, — 
something  which  imparts  action,  aftbrds 
motives,  produces  beauty,  gives  individu- 
ality, but  which  cannot  be  caught,  ana- 
lyzed or  described. 

The  world  in  its  varied  forms  is  but  an 
expression  of  something  above  the  world, 
beyond  the  world,  more  real  in  its  essence 
than  the  world  itself;  and  we  can  no  more 
find  out  what  that  something  is  by  hand- 
ling the  fragments  of  the  dead  limbs  of  the 
world,  than  we  can  discover  life  or  ex- 


plain the  conditions  of  vitality  in  the  dis- 
located limbs  of  a  soulless  body. 

Life  is  a  mystery  beyond  human  pene- 
tration, and  to  which  there  is  no  key  but 
in  the  revelation  God  hath  vouchsafed — 
vouchsafed  in  order  to  content  the  yearn- 
ings of  the  creature  He  has  made. 

The  instincts  of  man,  unlike  those  of 
animals,  are  not  contented  with  existence 
and  the  enjoyments  that  existence  pro- 
duces; man  must  know,  understand,  ap- 
prove and  appreciate  creation  and  its  Au- 
thor, or  he  is  not  satisfied. 

He  was  made  for  this;  he  should  not  be 
satisfied  with  less.  When  he  quells  this 
inward  yearning — when  he  ceases  to  care 
•about  higher  subjects  than  how  to  bring 
comfort  to  the  body — he  degrades  himself, 
stifles  the  action  of  his  best  faculties,  be- 
comes less  than  man;  for  man  was  created 
to  KNOW,  love  and  serve  God,  even  as  a 
child  should  seek  to  know,  love  and  serve 
his  father. 

The  instinct,  then,  which  prompts  the 
desire  of  knowledge,  is,  if  rightly  directed, 
a  noble  one, — one  resulting  from  the  pri- 
meval connection  of  man's  soul  with  God 
Himself. 

He  who  seeks  knowledge  by  studying 
the  action  of  God,  raises  himself  in  the 
scale  of  existence;  but  the  most  sublime 
action  of  God  is  His  manifestation  in  the 
flesh;  and  this  knowledge,  well  under- 
stood, aff'ords  a  key  to  all  the  rest. 

Reason  itself  tells  us  that  even  before 
creation  began,  the  Creator  must  have 
specially  borne  in  mind  the  key-stone  of 
His  work,  the  God-Man  for  whom  all 
things  were  created,  on  whose  account 
man  (the  image  of  the  God-Man)  became 
so  dear  to  God;  for  if  in  the  order  of  time 


114r 


AVE      MARIA. 


the  God-Man,  Christ,  is  the  last  work  of 
God,  lie  is  in  the  order  of  the  eternal 
councils  the  first.  For  not  in  those  coun- 
cils themselves,  but  in  their  development, 
does  the  least  perfect  precede  that  which 
is  more  perfect. 

Thus  it  is  that  man  came  after  inanimate 
and  unreasoning  beings,  because  these  are 
fur  us  even  as  we  are  for  Christ  and  Christ 
for  God.* 

Now,  no  one  among  mankind  stands 
nearer  to  the  God-Man  than  Mary;  no  one 
is  more  inseparable  from  Christ, — from 
which  it  results  that  Mary  was  also  borne 
in  mind  in  the  eternal  councils  of  God; 
that  she  was  eternally  predestined  to  be 
the  Mother  of  God. 

If  we  need  proof  of  this  proposition  we 
need  but  turn  to  the  first  pages  of  Holy 
Writ.  We  there  find  the  Mother  of  God 
preordained:  the  woman  whose  offspring 
is  to  crush  the  serpent's  head. 

She  is  the  human  origin  of  the  God-Man, 
to  whom  she  imparted  of  her  flesh;  tlie 
necessary  link  of  communicating  divinity 
to  us.  Framed  even  as  Eve  was,  beneath 
the  action  of  grace;  placed  even  from  the 
first  moment  of  her  being  in  her  true  place 
as  daughter  of  the  Eternal  Father,  she 
differed  from  Eve  mainly  in  this:  that  slie 
valued  and  cherished  her  birthright  as  the 
highest  boon  God  could  bestow  on  her; 
that  the  spiritual  communication  which 
flooded  her  soul  with  delight  and  imparted 
to  her  the  most  precious  of  all  knowledge, 
— knowledge  as  it  exists  in  God,  its  au- 
thor and  manifcstor, — was  by  her  appre- 
ciated as  those  only  can  appreciate  whose 
spiritual  faculties  have  been  not  only  awak- 
enol,  but  trained,  developed,  fostered  by 
the  hand  of  God  Himself. 

Mary  saw  material  creation  through  the 
light  God  shed  upon  it.  Her  intellect  de- 
scended from  a  higher  study  to  look  upon 
it;  and  yet  she  looked  on  it  witli  rever- 
ence, for  it  was  the  work  of  the  Most  High, 
— a  manifestation  of  Him. 

But  liad  the  spiritual  eyes  of  Mary  been 
for  a   moment   closed,    had   her  spiritual 

*  Cor.  lii,  23-58. 


understanding  been  dulled  so  that  she 
could  no  longer  see  in  God  the  solu- 
tion of  the  mystery  of  existence,  then  she 
would  have  become  like  one  of  us  when 
we  dissect  with  our  penknives  the  vast 
arcana  of  the  material  world;  and  when 
having  unearthed  its  soulless  mummies,  we 
display  the  weird-like  figures  where  life  has 
been,  and  form  in  our  theories  fitting  in- 
habitants for  those  ghastly,  withered,  muf- 
fled forms,  of  which  only  the  revolting  as- 
pects could  be  preserved. 

To  deal  with  matter  is  to  deal  with 
death,  as  man  views  matter's  ever-chang- 
ing form.  To  study  knowledge  through 
these  changing  forms,  and  hope  to  pene- 
trate its  secrets;  to  trace  life,  thought,  sen- 
sation, through  insensate  atoms,  is  but  to 
chase  an  ignis  fatuus, — is  but  to  court  de- 
spair. 

The  world  is  but  a  vast  charnel-house 
when  viewed  in  its  mere  material  point  of 
view.  "Remorseless  nature!"  sings  the 
material  bard,  who  loses  sight  of  old  tra- 
dition's lore,  and  deems  it  a  more  enno- 
bling exercise  of  faculty  to  contemplate 
the  material  dust,  than  to  hold  communi- 
cation with  the  living  Spirit-life  which  an- 
imates it. 

Dust  cannot  speak  intelligibly  apart 
from  the  Divine  Spirit  which  created  it, 
and  which  continues  to  give  it  form. 

It  was  Eve's  mistake  to  think  it  could. 
Knowledge  would  have  come  to  her  had  she' 
waited  for  the  manifestation  of  the  Spirit. 
God  manifest  in  the  flesh  would  have  ex- 
plained all  things;  and  this,  according  to  tlie 
fathers,  was  to  be.  Christ  ever  intended 
thus  to  unite  matter  to  spirit,  to  bring  it 
into  accordance  with  the  harmonies  of  eter- 
nity;  to  infuse  into  it,  as  it  were,  the  per- 
petuity, the  types,  the  farms  of  the  Eternal 
Idea;  to  render  it  a  fit  dwelling  for  the 
"  sons  of  God";  a  manifestation  of  beauty, 
intelligence,  and  harmonious  development, 
such  as  fairy -land  never  pictured,  nor  the 
most  lovely  plains  of  Persia,  so  glowingly 
described  by  the  poets,  ever,  displayed. 
Material  beauty  would  have  typified  the 
eternal  attributes  of  the  great  God,  in 
whom  resides  eternal  bliss,  eternal  order; 


AVE     MARIA. 


116 


I 


ever  gonerating,  tluoufi;li  ctornal  love,  that 
eternal  bliss  and  eternal  order  throughout 
the  whole  of  His  creation.  Matter  would 
have  corresponded  to  the  Divine  Idea. 
The  divine  principle  permeating;  all  dust, 
would  have  fertilized  and  subdued  at  will 
the  atomic  particles,  magnetizing  them,  if 
the  expression  is  allowed,  to  certain  de- 
sired results. 

But  the  earth  had  been  given  over  to  hu- 
man keei)ing.  The  human  Son  of  God, 
made  in  His  image  and  likeness,  had  been 
placed  upon  it.  Through  Him  the  influ- 
ence was  to  pass  which  \v&6  to  dress  the 
earth  and  to  keep  it.  That  influence  was 
the  breath  of  God  !  life-giving,  form-giv- 
ing, inspiring  harmony,  inbreathing  love. 
It  was  the  influence  of  the  same  spirit  that 
breathed  over  chaos,  reducing  the  atoms 
to  form  by  the  action  of  light.  This 
spirit  Avas  now  to  pass  through  Adam  and 
through  his  wife,  to  enable  them  to  act 
upon  the  earth.  It  was  the  divine  afllatus 
that  was  at  once  to  sustain  them  in  the 
majesty  of  their  supremacy  on  earth,  and 
to  act  through  them  to  fertilize  matter. 
But— 

They  withdrew  themselves  from  that  in- 
fluence;— fell  from  their  high  estate.  The 
divine  spirit  no  longer  animated  them  as  a 
necessary  part  of  their  existence.  Could 
it  be  otherwise  than  a  changed  existence? 
Could  it  be  otherwise  than  a  changed 
earth? 

Theologians  teach  that  evil  does  not  ex- 
ist as  a  principle;  that  what  we  term  evil 
exists  only  by  the  withdrawal  of  some  di- 
vine gift  necessai'y  for  the  production  of 
good.  Evil  is  practically  "privation." 
The  spirit  of  God  is  needed  to  give  every- 
thing its  due  attribute  or  attributes.  It  is 
on  this  account  that  all  unconscious  mat- 
ter not  subject  to  man  displays  so  magnifi- 
cently— order,  lustre,  magnificence.  What 
can  equal  the  abode  of  the  heavens?  Who 
can  paint  the  gorgeous  tints  of  the  evening 
sky,  or  the  sparkle  of  the  dew-drop  as  it 
flashes  in  the  glance  of  the  morning  sun? 
AVhat  can  equal  the  regularity  of  the  pro- 
cession of  the  stars,  or  surpass  the  obe- 
dience of  the  sun  and  moon  as  they  revolve 


around  their  centres  in  due  and  measured 
periods  of  time? 

Every  law  not  subject  to  man  manifests 
sublimity.  But  where  man^s  empire  be- 
gins, disorder  begins;  for  the  primal  order 
being  disturbed,  it  needs  restoration  to  its 
primitive  condition  ere  it  can  be  again  re- 
placed in  harmony  with  the  rest  of  the  ex- 
istences around  it. 

This  disorder  is  sim})ly  the  withdrawal 
of  God's  action  from  beings  created  pur- 
posely to  become  His  temples, — Livmo 
TKMPLES, — as  such  to  rtUc  over  all  subordi- 
nate natnres  on  earth. 

This  withdrawal  involves  necessarily  a 
withdrawal  of  intelligence,  a  withdrawal 
of  power,  a  non-exercise  of  spiritual  fac- 
ulty, and  consequently  involves  imperfect, 
defective  —  nay,  contrary  —  action  on  the 
part  of  man,  who  is  the  ruler  of  this  lower 
world;  from  this  result  the  disorder  and 
unhappiness  in  which  the  earth  is  plunged. 

But  God  loved  man  in  spite  of  his  rebel- 
lion— in  spite  of  the  frightfiU  results  which 
that  rebellion  produced. 

He  wished  to  restore  him  to  grace;  He 
wished  to  reinstate  him  in  his  dignity  of 
sonship,  heirship,  coheirship  with  Christ. 
But  a  medium  was  wanted  for  this.  In  be- 
stowing free  will  upon  man,  God  had  made 
the  action  of  grace  dependent  on  man's  ac- 
ceptance of  it, — on  man's  free  co-operation 
in  its  results.  Man  had  separated  himself 
from  the  divine  inspiration — from  the  di- 
vine influence — voluntarily.  Grace  had 
not  utterly  retired,  was  not  withdrawn  be- 
yond his  grasp,  his  search;  it  was  still 
hovering  within  his  reach,  still  placed 
within  his  power  to  grasj>  if  he  so  willed 
it;  but  now  man's  will  had  become  neces- 
sary not  only  to  retain  it  given,  but  to  i)ro- 
cure  its  incipient  action  on  the  soul.  The 
dependence  of  man  on  God  for  spiritual 
gifts  was  to  receive  acknowledgment. 

If  man  still  persisted  in  ignoring  his 
Benefactor  for  temporal  blessings;  if  like 
the  cow  or  the  j)ig  he  consumed  his  daily 
provender,  and  partook  of  his  daily  bless- 
ings without  casting  a  glance  of  recogni- 
tion upwards ;  if  he  remained,  like  the  mod- 
ern philosophers,  content  to  trace  liis  de- 


116 


AVE     MARIA 


Bcent  from  the  ourang-outang,  without  giv- 
ing a  thought  on  a  higher,  a  perfect,  a 
creative  essence — so  it  might  remain.  He 
might  make  the  best  of  his  animalized  ex- 
istence, but  he  could  not  restore  it  to  hap- 
piness or  elevate  its  tendencies.  Tartarian 
barbarism,  savage  as  that  of  the  aborigines 
of  the  Sandwich  Islands  or  of  Van  Die- 
men's  Land,  must  in  the  long  run  be  the 
penalty,  as  a  mere  animal  man  has  no 
more  history  than  has  an  elephant  or  a 
horse.  The  fierce  Tartars  of  Asia,  the 
swarthy  races  of  interior  Africa,  selling 
each  other  into  slavery,  and  the  fierce  Hu- 
ron displaying  in  triumph  the  scalps  of  his 
vanquished  enemies,  present  the  same  fea- 
tures of  inglorious  non-progress  now  as 
when,  a  hundred  years  after  the  deluge  or 
thereabouts,  they  withdrew  themselves 
from  the  places  of  industry,  where  order 
produced  legislation,  to  roam  at  large  for 
the  gratification  of  brutal  instincts  which 
would  not  bow  to  any  law  but  force. 
[to  be  contintjed.] 


Fffideris  Area. 


Ark  of  the  Covenant !  Holy  Ark  ! 

High  floating  o'er  a  world  of  sin ; 
Safe  through  the  waters  speeds  thy  bark, 

Gathering  a  holy  group  within. 
From  every  clime,  of  every  tongue, 

All  races  do  thy  care  bespeak. 
The  chosen  ones  to  be  among, 

Shelter  within  thy  ark  to  seek. 
O  Mary !  Mother  of  mankind 

Struggling  for  life,  in  sin  oft  drowned. 
Who  trust  in  thee  a  refuge  find 

Which  only  in  thine  Ark  is  found. 
Around  are  waters  dread  and  dark, 
O  grant  us  safety  in  thine  Ark. 


It  is  calculated  that  during  the  nine  days 
prayer  at  the  tomb  of  Saint  Genevieve,  in 
the  church  of  St.  Etienne-du-Mant,  not 
fewer  than  100,000  persons  attended.  The 
proceedings  were  closed  on  Monday  by  a 
grand  procession,  headed  by  the  Papal 
Nuncio. 


A  Noble  Old  Man. 


There  lives  an  old  man  whom  more  than 
two  hundred  millions  of  catholics  recog- 
nize as  their  chief.  Chosen  by  God,  as  was 
St.  Peter,  he  governs  souls.  Individuals 
and  peoples  respectfully  incline  in  his 
presence.  Like  to  our  Heavenly  Father 
who  causes  His  sun  to  shine  upon  the  just 
and  unjust,  he  pours  out  his  benedictions 
upon  humanity,  all  the  members  of  which 
compose  his  family;  his  heart  is  devoured 
by  the  fire  of  the  most  ardent  devotion,  his 
sacred  lips  articulate  only  holy  words.  Pa- 
cific conqueror,  he  propogates  and  estab- 
lishes the  Kingdom  of  God  in  the  utter- 
most extremities  of  the  earth.  Charity 
alone  influences  him.  Jesus  Christ,  his 
Model,  he  unceasingly  imitates.  He  seeks 
no  earthly  recompense;  his  hopes  are  in 
heaven,  where,  one  day,  after  the  labors  of 
this  life,  he  will  repose  in  the  bosom  of 
Abraham.  Each  persecution  is  a  halt  on 
his  triumphal  way.  "War  and  peace,  com- 
merce and  science,  ambition  and  the  avid- 
ity even  of  material  interests,  become  the 
artificers  of  his  Eternity.  The  past,  strewn 
with  palms  of  faith — the  present,  support- 
ed upon  monuments  of  charity ;  and  the  fu- 
ture, gilding  the  horizon  of  hope,  sustain 
his  triple  crown  above  the  progress  which 
it  fructifies  and  the  creations  it  blesses. 

This  old  man  notwithstanding  his  ad- 
vanced age  has  a  soul  full  of  vigor  and 
youth;  he  possesses  the  maturity  and  ex- 
perience of  the  sages.  Fisher  of  men,  pi- 
lot of  the  bark  of  St.  Peter,  he  is  acquain- 
ted with  all  the  shoals  upon  his  route;  he 
foresees  the  storms,  but  fears  not  their 
powerless  fnry.  The  tempest  may  dash 
the  waves  around  his  vessel — he  knows  it 
can  never  be  submerged.  Truth  reposoa 
upon  his  lips,  and  his  voice  has  power  to 
move  the  world.  The  faithful  listen  to  him 
with  respectful  docility,  for  it  is  he  who 
distributes  the  bread  of  the  Divine  word; 
it  is  he  who  feeds  the  lambs  and  the  sheep. 
This  august  old  man  is  Pius  IX;  the  seat 


J 


AVE     MARIA. 


117 


of  his  royalty  is  Rome,  which  in  Greek 
signifies  strength;  in  German,  gloiy;  in 
Hebrew,  elevation;  in  Oriental  language, 
courage.  This  spot  of  earth,  reserved  for 
a  destiny  so  lofty,  was  of  old,  as  the  Holy 
Land,  overthrown  by  a  Providence  whose 
designs  we  perceive  not  until  after  their 
accomplishment.  To  forget  earth,  one 
must  go  to  Home.  There  the  multitude 
of  souvenirs,  the  throng  of  memories  bo- 
come  oppressive ;  the  soul  is  moved  at  the 
aspect  of  this  ancient  queen  who  has  twice 
received  the  succession  of  the  universe,  as 
inheritor  of  Saturn  and  of  Jacob. 

Pius  IX  is  eminently  charitable.  His 
generous  hand  is  ever  open  to  relieve  the 
necessitous  ;  he  sends  succor  to  the  unfor- 
tunate without  distinction  of  nationality, 
and  he  may  be  called  the  providence  of 
public  calamities.  The  press  of  our  coun- 
try has  many  times  divulged  the  gifts  of 
his  inexhaustible  charity  :  God  alone  can 
count  the  number  of  his  secret  alms.  Im- 
itating his  Divine  Master,  he  lives  but  to 
do  good.  Pius  IX  belongs  to  that  gener- 
ation of  chaste  men  whoso  superhuman 
beauty  is  affirmed  by  the  prophet  in  his 
hymns.  The  halo  of  purity,  like  the  lustre 
of  a  brilliant  diamond,  adorns  his  brow. 
This  virtue,  which  ornaments  youth  with 
BO  many  graces,  surrounds  man  in  the 
decline  of  life  with  a  prestige  ofhonor 
and  veneration.  Blessed  are  the  pure  of 
heart,  for  they  shall  see  God. 

Pius  IX  is  our  father ;  it  is  he  who  com- 
municates spiritual  life  to  us.  He  is  the 
priest  by  excellence ;  in  him  is  united 
the  plenitude  of  the  priesthood  of  Jesus 
Christ,  whose  Vicar  he  is.  He  is  King; 
this  dignity  confers  on  him  power  over 
our  souls. 

Pius  IX  consecrates  every  moment  of 
his  life  with  unwearied  zeal  to  the  accom- 
plishment of  his  functions.  No  sovereign 
leads  a  life  so  laborious;  he  never  sleeps 
more  than  seven  hours ;  he  rises  at  six 
o'clock,  celebrates  Mass,  after  which  ho  re- 
cites his  breviary  and  assists  at  another 
Mass ;  he  then  takes  a  slight  collation  and 
installs  himself  in  his  cabinet,  where  he 
receives  persons  admitted  to  audience.    The 


number  of  those  from  all  parts  of  Europe 
and  America  who  come  to  ask  his  blessing 
is  often  so  great,  that  his  HoliuesR  to  sat- 
isfy all  is  obliged  to  give  audience  to  five 
or  six  hundred  at  one  time.  On  such  occa- 
sions they  are  ranged  in  groups  along  one 
of  the  grand  halls  of  the  Vatican :  the  Holy 
Father  passes  slowly  before  them,  address- 
ing to  each  a  kind  word,  gathering  them  in 
a  circle  and  giving  them  a  short  exhorta- 
tion ;  in  fine,  dismissing  them  all  in  admira- 
tion at  the  simplicity  and  amenity  with 
which  he  receives  those  who  approach 
him. 

At  ten  o'clock,  Cardinal  Antonelli,  or  in 
his  absence,  Monsignor  Beradi,  Under-Sec- 
retary of  State,  renders  an  account  of  the  af- 
fairs of  government  to  the  Sovereign  Pon- 
tiff. The  other  ministers  arrive  after  the 
First  President  of  the  council.  At  half- 
past  eleven  audiences  are  renewed  until 
one,  when  the  Holy  Father  partakes  of  a 
frugal  dinner ;  he  again  recites  his  brev- 
iary, and  either  rides  out  in  his  carriage  or 
walksin  the  Vatican  gardens.  Atfive  recep- 
tions again  commence,  and  often  continue 
until  nine,  at  which  hour  the  Holy  Father 
sups.     At  ten  o'clock  he  retires  to  rest. 

Such,  notwithstanding  his  age  (seventy- 
six),  is  the  life  led  by  the  Pope.  He  bears 
his  years  wonderfully  well.  We  may  with- 
out exaggeration  call  Pius  IX  an  illustrious 
Pontiff  and  a  noble  old  man.  Catholics  of 
all  ranks  should  aid  him  in  present  neces- 
sities, either  by  contributing  to  the  Peter- 
pence,  or  by  offering  soldiers, — above  all  by 
praying  for  him. 

I  admire,  O  Holy  Father,  the  grandeur  of 
your  position,  the  humility  of  your  senti- 
ments, the  heroism  of  your  virtues.  You 
are  the  most  venerable  of  monarchs, because 
you  are  the  living  personification  of  the  Re- 
deemer; hence  your  name  is  engraven  in 
indelible  characters  on  the  hearts  of  all 
true  catholics.  Would  that  all  people  be- 
longed to  your  fold,  that  with  us  they 
might  unite  in  proclaiming  your  supreme 
autliority.  Deign  to  accept  this  wish  of 
the  least  of  your  children,  who  bows  to 
receive  a  benediction  from  your  paternal 
hand. — Hosier  de  Marie. 


118 


AVE      MARIA 


Church  Bells  and  Bell-Ringing. 


P>oia  the  earliest  times  bells  were 
used  as  signals  or  summoners.  They  are 
mentioned  in  the  Book  of  Exodus  as  ap- 
pended to  the  blue  vestment  of  the  high- 
priest,  with  which  he  was  robed  during 
the  performance  of  the  ceremonies  of  the 
law;  and  hence  it  is  natural  that  they 
should  have  been  employed  by  the  early 
christian  Church  to  give  notice  of  the 
proper  periods  for  public  prayer.  The 
first  a])plioation  of  them  to  this  purpose  is 
ascribed  by  Polydore,  Yirgil  and  others  to 
Paulinus,  Bishop  of  Nola,  a  city  of  Cam- 
pania, about  the  four  hundredth  year  of 
the  christian  era.  Cluirch  bells  were  in- 
troduced into  Britain  very  soon  after- 
wards; and  by  the  end  of  the  ninth  cen- 
tury scarcely  a  church  or  monastery  was 
built  without  several  of  these  "lively  har- 
bingers of  religious  duties."  They  gave 
rise  to  that  memorable  feature  in  church 
architecture,  the  bell-tower,  an  addition 
which  is  more  susceptible  of  the  grander 
beauties  of  architecture  than  any  other 
part  of  the  edifice.  Like  everything  in 
the  catholic  Church  devoted  to  sacred 
uses,  they  were  regularly  consecrated; 
the  ritual  for  baptizing  them  may  be  found 
in  the  Roman  Pontificate.  Sir  Henry 
Spelman  has  preserved  in  his  Glossary  two 
old  lines  on  the  subject  of  the  ancient  use 
of  church  bells,*  the  purport  of  which  may 
run  thus:  "To  praise  the  true  God,  to  call 
the  people,  to  congregate  the  clergy,  to 
bewail  the  dead,  to  drive  away  pestilence, 
to  rejoice  at  festivities."  From  the  time 
that  church-towers  were  provided  with 
sets  of  bells  of  different  sizes,  so  as  to  pro- 
duce a  variety  of  sounds,  England  became 
a  bell-ringing  nation.  "Ringing,"  re- 
marks Sir  James  Hawkins,  "  is  a  prac- 
tice which  is  said  to  be  peculiar  to  Eng- 
land; which,  for  that  reason,  and  the 
dexterity  of  its  inhabitants  in  composing 


*  Laudo  Deum  verum,  plebem  voce,  congrcgo 
clerum, 
Defunctoa  ploro,  pestem  fugo,  festa  dccoro. 


and  ringing  musical  peals,  wherein  the 
sounds  interchange  in  regular  order,  is 
called  tlie  ringing  island." 

With  the  introduction  of  clocks  came  a 
new  contrivance  in  bells,  somewhat  on  the 
principle  of  the  barrel  of  a  mechanical 
organ.  A  set  of  church  bells  struck  by 
means  of  clockwork  is  made  to  play  cer- 
tain tunes  at  certain  hours.  Many  of  the 
London  church  clocks  were  provided  with 
such  apparatus.  The  old  Royal  Exchange 
bells  occasionally  broke  in  upon  the  delib- 
erations of  the  merchants  with  the  solemn 
tones  of  Old  Hundredth  and  other  ancient 
psalm  tunes.  In  Edinburgh,  the  belfry  of 
St.  Giles',  or  High  Church,  imitating  the 
more  lively  tastes  of  our  continental  neigh- 
bors, indulged  the  surrounding  denizens 
with  waltzes,  quadrilles,  and  other  fash- 
ionable tunes,  at  stated  hours  of  the  day. 
A  similar  exception  to  the  usual  poverty 
of  Scotch  bell-ringing  occurs  in  Glasgow, 
where  there  is  a  peal  of  twenty-eight  bells 
in  the  cross  steeple.  In  the  church  and 
other  public  buildings  of  almost  every 
continental  city  musical  machinery  exists; 
especially  at  Ghent,  in  Belgium,  which  is 
not  quiet  a  single  half  hour  in  the  twenty- 
four.  "Whoever  has  been  no  farther  than 
Calais  will  not  fail  to  remember  the  mu- 
sical clock  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  which 
plays  a  tune  to  a  couple  of  knights,  who 
come  out  to  fight  every  half  hour  with  the 
utmost  punctuality.  One  of  them  has  been 
regularly  killed  forty-eight  times  a  day 
since  the  old  revolution,  when  the  figures 
were  attached  to  the  clock.  St.  Dunstan- 
in-the-West,  London,  was  fonnerly  famous 
for  its  figures,  which  struck  the  hour,  and 
the  well-known  clockmaker,  Bennett,  has 
placed  in  Cheapside  a  set  of  similar  fig- 
ures.— London  Lamp. 


Died. — On  the  13th  day  of  January,  in 
the  Convent  of  St.  Agnes,  of  the  Domin- 
ican Order,  Sister  Veronica  Ray, — for  the 
eternal  repose  of  whose  soul  we  earnestly 
request  your  prayers  and  suftr^ges  through 
charity,  and  promise  the  same  assistance 
when  requested. 

May  she  rest  in  peace.     Amen. 


AVE     MARIA. 


119 


Children's  Vesper  liymn. 


Softly  vesper  bcllN  nro  ringing 
Through  the  husiicd  iind  tranquil  air, 

Unto  Thee  our  pniisrs  bringing 

Let  us  breathe  our  ht-Hvenly  prayer; 

Blessed  Virgin  !  pure  ami  fair, 

Hear  tliy  children's  vesper  prayer  I 

Ilail !  O  thou  enshrined  in  glory  I 

Mother  of  our  risen  Lord, 
Hall !  renowned  in  sacred  story. 

In  whose  bosom  dwelt  the  Word  ; 
Mother  !  ever  blest  and  dear, 
Hear  thy  children's  vesper  prayer  ! 

Full  of  grace  I  O  wondrous  maiden ! 

Angels  hailed  thee  from  above, 
Thou  with  grace  and  glory  laden. 

Lured  from  Heaven  th'  Eternal  Dove; 
Unto  God  how  pure  and  fair 
Seemed  His  creature  kneeling  there. 

Bless'd  art  thou  !  blest  forever ; 

Every  age  and  every  race 
Sing  thy  praise  In  sweetest  measure, 

Till  In  Heaven  we  sec  thy  face  ; 
Glorious  Queen  and  Mother  dear! 
Hear  thy  children's  vesper  prayer ! 

M.  J.  C 


THE  FLEMMINGS. 


BY    MRS.    AXXA    II.    DOESEY. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Patrick  McCue's  Keepsakes. 

The  table  was  soon  spread  with  a  gen- 
erous and  plentiful  meal ;  for  except  the 
salarntus  which  the  New  England  house- 
wives will  poison  their  bread  and  pastries 
with,  there  are  no  people  in  the  world  who 
understand  better  what  the  art  of  cooking 
and  the  spreading  of  a  hospitable  table 
means.  On  this  occasion  there  were  two 
cold  roast  fowls,  a  dish  of  savory  flitches 
of  bacon  just  fried  to  a  turn  ;  there  were 
apple  and  pumpkin  pies,  home-made  cheese, 
preserves,  pickles,  white  biscuits,  dough- 
nuts, and  two  or  three  large  loaves  of 
bread,  flanked  by  tankards  of  cider  and 
plates  piled  up  with  great  rosy  apples  and 


nuts — while  the  roaring  fire  cast  its  ruddy 
light  like  a  broad  smile  of  welcome  over 
it  all ;  and  the  young  stalwart  farmers, 
with  laugh  and  jest,  drew  round  the  board, 
and  after  '*  Thanks  "  were  offered  by  the 
Elder,  fell  to  like  hungry  kites,  doing  am- 
ple justice  to  the  inviting  fare,  while  Mrs. 
Flemmiug  flitted  around,  attending  with 
complacent  happiness  to  the  needs  of  all — 
for  the  little  woman  dearly  loved  an  occa- 
sion like  this,  when  she  could  demonstrate 
her  domestic  superiority  by  showing  that 
however  sudden  the  emergency  her  well 
su]»plied  and  well  filled  larder  could  bear 
the  strain.  Hope  and  John  Wilde  sat  be- 
side each  other,  quietly  happy  ;  and  Eva, 
who  was  thought  to  be  something  of  a  flirt 
in  the  country-side,  entertained  two  or 
three  of  her  shy  admirers  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  table.  But  Patrick  MeCue  by 
little  and  little  became  the  life  of  the  com- 
pany. Some  of  the  youngsters,  seeing  that 
he  was  a  dull-looking  fellow,  began  to 
chair  him,  but  the  New  Hampshire  flints 
struck  such  fire  out  of  his  Irish  wit  that 
he  completely  turned  the  laugh  on  the 
other  side,  and  kept  up  the  fun  to  the 
great  delight  of  them  all.  It  was  late 
when  they  left  the  table,  long  past  the 
usual  bedtime,  but  they  sat  in  merry 
groups  around,  talking  over  their  bear- 
hunts  and  other  adventures,  until  Mrs. 
Flemming,  assisted  by  her  daughters, 
cleared  away  the  fragments  of  the  feast 
and  placed  everything  in  perfect  order, 
leaving  only  the  Elder's  table,  upon  which 
lay  open  the  old  family  Bible,  in  the  centre 
of  the  room.  Patrick  McCue  was  in  the 
corner  of  the  room  next  to  the  fire,  in  a 
high  chat  with  Nicholas  and  Eva;  Mrs. 
Flemming  was  seated,  at  last,  in  her  quaint 
old  chair ;  and  Hope,  with  John  Wilde 
and  Reuben,  were  sitting  pear  her,  while  a 
cheerful  hum  of  voices  filled  the  room. 
Suddenly  the  Elder  cleared  his  throat,  and 
going  to  his  table,  sat  down,  and  a  deep 
silence  fell  upon  them  all,  which  was  at 
last  broken  by  his  grave  level  tones,  as  he 
read  the  fourth  chapter  of  the  fourth  book 
of  Kings,  and  Patrick  McCue  found  him- 
self in  the  midst  of  family  prayers.     He 


ISO 


AVE     MARIA 


would  have  stepped  off  to  bed  if  he  had 
known  what  was  coming,  and  said  the 
dear  okl  comforting  prayers  of  his  Faith  ; 
but  he  was  fairly  cornered,  and  listened  to 
the  narrative  of  the  miraculous  things  done 
by  the  prophet  of  God,  not  as  to  a  far-off 
tale  of  dreamland,  or  cloudland,  never  to 
be  realized  on  earth  ;  for  he  knew  that  Al- 
mighty God  had  never  ceased  working 
miracles  as  great  as  these,  by  the  hands  of 
His  saints,  down  to  the  present  time  ;  his 
Faith  was  aliving,  deathless  faith, — neither 
torpid  or  sleeping,  full  of  anxious,  fitful 
dreams ;  and  it  seemed  as  natural  to  him 
to  hear  the  wonderful  story  of  Elisius, 
and  the  Sunaraitess,  as  if  he  had  been 
there  and  seen  it  all.  He  sat  and  listened, 
gravely  twirling  his  thumbs  over  each 
other,  benignly  thankful  that  his  enter- 
tainers were  not  the  pagans  he  took  them 
to  be  ;  when  the  first  lines  of  a  familiar 
hymn  being  given  out,  they  all  sang 
together,  old  and  young,  and  Patrick 
thought  it  sounded  pleasantly,  all  those 
full  round  voices  swelling  out  in  a  devo- 
tional harmony  to  one  of  the  old  quaint 
puritan  airs  ;  and  if  he  had  only  been  out 
of  it  he  would  have  enjoyed  it  yet  more — 
for  the  man  had  a  fine  natural  ear  for  mu- 
sic ; — ^but  he  was  caught,  and  couldn't  tell 
fairly  what  to  do  with  himself,  until  they 
all  knelt  down,  t'hen  he  drew  out  his  ro- 
sary, composed  of  large  black  beads  strung 
upon  brass  wire,  to  which  was  suspended 
a  brass  crucifix  some  four  inches  long ; 
the  jingle  as  he  took  the  beads  from  his 
breast  pocket  made  Eva  start  round,  and 
she  saw  him  bless  himself  reverently  with 
the  crucifix,  then  kiss  it,  after  which  his 
lips  moved  in  an  earnest  fashion  while  he 
slipped  bead  after  bead  through  his  fingers, 
all  to  her  utter  distraction  and  the  confusion 
of  Nicholas,  who  also  saw  him  and  thought 
him  crazy.  The  next  morning,  about  ten 
o'clock,  the  young  men  were  to  start  with 
the  teams  and  sleds  on  their  road-breaking 
mission,  to  unite  with  other  parties  for  the 
same  purpose,  and  thought  they  might  pos- 
sibly get  as  far  as  Centre  Harbor.  Pat- 
rick McCue  was  going  with  them,  and 
Mrs.  Flemming  thankful  to  him  for  going  ; 


and  with  a  womanly  sort  of  pity  for  the 
lone  stranger  who  sat  on  her  hearthstone, 
but  without  the  faintest  relenting  towards 
the  superstitious  and  papistical  side  of 
him,  j)acked  a  basket  with  provisions,  not 
forgetting  a  bottle  of  their  best  cider, 
which  would  have  put  to  shame  the  bright- 
est Cliquot  by  its  sparkle,  and  gave  it  into 
the  care  of  Nicholas  with  strict  charges 
to  give  it  to  him  on  the  way,  for  she  did 
not  want  to  be  thanked  for  it.  She  shook 
hands  with  him  ;  and  "wished  him  well" ; 
the  Elder  shook  hands,  so  did  Reuben  and 
the  girls,  to  whom  he  whispered :  "  God 
bless  the  winsome  face  of  yez;  may  the 
saints  honld  yez  in  their  keeping,  for  your 
kindness  to  a  homeless  stranger.  You'll 
find  a  picture,  and  a  little  image  of  the 
Blessed  Lady,  up  where  I  slept ;  and  may 
she  bring  yez  both  into  the  fold  of  her 
Son."  No  one  heard  what  he  said  except 
the  sisters,  and  it  was  like  Greek  to  them, 
so  far  as  his  meaning  went ;  then  the  waif 
of  the  storm,  the  simple-minded,  unedu- 
cated, unpolished  Irish  peddler,  with  his 
pack  over  his  round  shoulders,  went  his 
way,  leaving  what?  Little  brown  spar- 
rows sometimes,  in  flying,  drop  from  their 
bills  a  rare  seed,  which,  falling  into  the 
earth,  germinates  and  grows  into  strength 
and  beauty,  covering  with  vines,  blossoms, 
leaves  and  fruits  some  ruined  wall  or 
blasted  tree,  affording  shade  and  refresh- 
ment to  the  noonday  traveller  and  shelter 
for  the  song-birds  at  night ;  the  wind  goes 
on  its  mission  wafting  eastward  the  germs 
of  mighty  trees,  which  in  time  cast  broad 
shadows  on  the  mountain  sides,  or  stretch 
their  wide  boughs  over  the  peaceful  brown 
homes  in  the  valley;  man's  mission  is 
more  mighty  and  mysterious  still,  for  Al- 
mighty God  in  His  own  wise  designs  some- 
times makes  use  of  the  ignorant  and  hum- 
ble as  messengers  of  His  will,  as  prophets 
of  His  coming,  to  plant  the  seed  of  His 
word  in  desert  places,  to  make  them 
blossom  as  the  rose. 

"When  the  Elder  went  into  his  work- 
room, after  the  departure  of  the  young 
men,  to  see  about  mending  the  double 
sleigh  harness,  he  saw  a  neatly  wrapped 


AVE      MARIA. 


121 


package  lying  on  his  desk.  Ho  took  it  up 
and  saw  that  it  was  addressed  to  "  Mister 
Flemming,  from  his  grateful  friend,  Pat- 
rick McCue;"  then  he  snapped  the  string, 
opened  the  wrapper,  and  found  a  book 
neatly  bound  in  leather;  and  turning  to 
the  title-page,  he  read :  "  The  End  of 
Religious  Controversy;  by  a  Catholic  Di- 
vine."* A  flush  mounted  to  his  face  and 
he  closed  the  book  with  a  snap,  and  lift- 
ing the  lid  of  his  desk,  threw  it  in,  think- 
ing :  "  To  waste  time  over  the  pages  of 
such  a  book  as  that  would  be  not  only  idle, 
but  culpable.  He  would  some  day  wrap  it 
up,  direct  it  to  Patrick  McCue,  and  send 
it  to  Boston  by  the  first  person  he  heard 
of  going  there."  Then  he  went  about  his 
harness-mending  and  forgot  all  about  it. 

Mrs.  Flemming,  who  was  busy  over  her 
churn,  sent  Hope  and  Eva  "  to  take  the 
bedclothes  off  the  cot  the  Irishman  had 
slept  in  the  night  before,  to  fold  the  com- 
forts and  blankets  and  put  them  in  the  pi'ess, 
and  throw  the  sheets  and  pillow-case 
among  the  soiled  house  linen ;  then  lock  the 
door,  as  she  had  no  use  for  the  room." 

Full  of  curiosity  to  see  what  Patrick 
McCue  meant  when  he  bade  them  good-by, 
Hope  and  Eva  lost  no  time  but  ran  up 
stairs,  and  on  entering  the  room  the  first 
object  that  greeted  their  sight,  standing 
.  upon  the  Bible  where  he  had  placed  it, 
was  a  plaster  cast,  about  a  foot  high,  of 
the  Blessed  Virgin  holding  in  her  arms 
her  divine  Son,  and  lying  near  her  feet 
was  a  picture  of  the  Crucifixion,  in  which 
she  was  represented  standing  by  His  cross, 
bearing  wnth  Him  the  bitter  passion  and 
pain  she  could  neither  soothe  or  avert. 
It  was  a  high-colored,  badly  executed  print, 
but  it  told  the  story  with  a  graphic  power 
which  could  not  be  misunderstood.  This 
then  was  the  "image"  for  Hope,  and  that 
the  "  picter  "  for  Eva.  They  did  not  then 
comprehend  whom  the  "  image "  repre- 
sented ;  they  thought  it  might  be  some  poet- 
sculptor's  idea  of  "Charity,"  or  "Peace," 
or  "  Maternal  Love" ;  but  whatever  it  might 
mean,  it  was  beautiful  in  its  holy  expres- 


MUncr's  End  of  Controversy. 


sion  of  serene  peace.  But  the  picture 
thrilled  them  through;  it  was  the  first  one 
of  the  kind  they  had  ever  seen,  and  al- 
though they  had  read  and  heard  of  the 
Crucifixion  ever  since  they  could  remem- 
ber, it  had  never  seemed  to  them  such  a 
reality  as  now — while  they  stood,  Eva's 
head  leaning  on  Hope's  shoulder,  gazing 
upon  it. 

"  Only  think,  Hope,"  said  Eva  in  a  low 
voice,  which  had  something  of  her  father's 
tone  in  it ;  "  only  think  of  her  being  there, 
close  beside  Him,  seeing  all  that  was  done 
and  not  able  to  give  Him  a  drop  of  water, 
or  even  wipe  the  sweat  and  blood  from  His 
face." 

"  Whom  do  you  mean,  Eva  ?  Who  is  it 
do  you  think?"  asked  Hope  slowly. 

"  Don't  you  see,  that  must  be  Mary]Jthe 
Mother  of  Jesus,  standing  there,  for  we 
read  in  the  Bible  that  "  she  stood  by  tlie 
Cross ;"  but  oh,  Hope  !  Jwxo  could  she  bear 
it;  for  was  she  not  human  like  ourselves?" 
Ah  yes  !  they  could  understand  this  much 
because  it  appealed  strongly  to  their  wom- 
anly sympathies,  but  the  rest  was  a  sealed 
book  to  these  fair  Puritan  maidens,  and 
the  time  not  yet  at  hand  when  "  out  of 
many  hearts  thoughts  should  be  revealed" 
to  them. 

"  I  think,"  said  Hope  at  last :  "  that  we 
had  better  finish  up  and  get  back  to  our 
sewing.  It  seems  to  me  that  you  might 
keep  the  picture.  I  see  no  harm  in  it, 
altho'  I  fear  that  mother,  if  she  knew  of 
them,  would  think  both  these  were  "  grav- 
en images,"  and  destroy  them ;  but  she 
never  comes  here,  and  there's  no  use  in 
fretting  her  by  letting  her  know.  I  will 
leave  the  image  here;  it  can  hurt  no  one, 
and  it  is  certainly  very  pretty.  I  should 
like  to  put  it  in  the  'best  room,'  but  imag- 
ine the  excitement  that  would  come  of  it," 
said  Hope  with  a  little  laugh. 

"  Yes  !  I  can  see  old  Father  liay  peering 
at  it  over  his  big  horn  spectacles,  and  our 
little  mother  on  tiptoe  with  righteous  an- 
ger, for  of  course  she  would  take  it  for 
granted  that  it  was  some  idolatrous  Rom- 
ish image,  just  because  Patrick  McCue  left 
left  it  here,"  said  Eva  laughing,  while  she 


122 


AVE     MARIA. 


and  her  sister  folded  the  comforts  and 
quilts.  "  I  shall  put  the  picture  between 
the  leaves  of  my  Bible;  as  you  say,  Hope, 
it  can't  hurt  me;  indeed  I  think  it  will  do 
me  good  whenever  I  see  it,  for  it  brings 
that  sorrowful  scene  on  Calvary  so  plainly 
before  me,  and  makes  it  seem  so  real,  that 
I  can  almost  imagine  I  saw  it  all.  I  tell 
you,  Hope,  that  all  Father  Ray's  preaching 
from  now  until  doomsday  could  not  give 
me  such  thoughts  as  that  picture  does." 

"  How  strange  that  a  papist  should  care 
enough  about  our  Saviour  to  have  a  pic- 
ture like  that,"  said  Hope ;  "  for  you  know, 
Eva,  that  in  John  Bunyan's  book  he  says 
that  the  Pope  of  Rome  is  antichrist ;  but 
I  suppose  the  man  bought  it  w  ith  other 
things  to  sell  again." 

"  It  is  very  likely.  No,  I  don't  think  he 
knows  much  about  the  plan  of  salvation, 
for  instead  of  listening  to  father's  solemn 
prayer  last  night,  he  hauled  out  a  great 
string  of  black  beads  and  made  that  sign 
on  himself  again,  then  began  whispering 
to  himself  while  he  counted  them  one  by 
one  ;  indeed  he  did,  Hope,  and  Nicholas 
laughed  as  if  it  was  great  fun.  Any  way, 
I'm  glad  he's  gone,  and  more  than  ghad  to 
have  the  picture.  But,  Hope,  why  does 
mother  never  come  here  ?  I  never  heard 
that  before." 

"  I'll  tell  you,  Eva,  because  you  might 
some  day  or  other  ask  mother,  and  that 
would  never  do.  I  never  heard  her  say 
anything  about  it;  but  old  Sarah  Gill, 
who  used  almost  to  live  here  when  we  were 
little  things,  to  help  mother,  told  me  all 
about  it  one  day  when  I  went  to  i*ead  to  her. 
One  night  an  old  Indian  squaw,  who  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  coming  here  to  beg, 
was  taken  in  out  of  a  storm,  pretty  much 
as  the  peddler  was,  only  she  was  ill,  and 
died  that  night  in  this  room.  Mother  was 
leaning  over  her,  doing  all  she  could  to 
soothe  her  and  make  her  more  comfortable, 
when  all  at  once  she  screamed,  and  fasten- 
ing her  long  bony  fingers  around  mother's 
throat,  sprang  out  of  bed,  and  they  both 
fell  together  on  the  floor.  When  Sarah 
Gill,  who  had  gone  down  for  mustard  and 
hot  water,  was  coming  up  with  them,  she 


heard  the  terrible  cry;  and  hurrying  in' 
found  mother  nearly  suflfocated  and  the 
squaw  stark  dead,  lying  across  her,  with 
fingers  still  clutching  her  throat.  It  was 
some  time  before  she  revived,  and  has  nev- 
er entered  this  room  since.  You  must  take 
care  and  never  speak  of  it  before  mother, 
for  Sarah  Gill  says  that  it  always  gave  her 
a  dreadful  nervous  turn  whenever  father 
or  she  referred  to  it ;  and  she  finally  told 
them  both  never  to  speak  of  it  in  her  pres- 
ence again,  or  before  the  children,  as  she 
wished  it  to  be  entirely  forgotten." 

"  Poor  little  mother  !  It  was  frightful ; 
no  wonder  she  can't  bear  the  sight  of  an 
Indian,  and  avoids  this  room.  Did  you 
ever  hear  that  it  was  haunted,  Hope?" 
asked  Eva. 

"  What  nonsense,  Eva  !  I  thought  you 
had  more  sense  than  that.  Such  a  ques- 
tion is  worthy  of  Sarah  Gill,  who  hears 
death-watches,  and  believes  in  signs  and 
witches.  No  !  Tliere  is  nothing  to  dread 
here  except  the  thought  of  the  horrible 
thing  that  happened  here  long  years  ago, 
when  God  was  so  merciful  as  to  save  our 
mother,  alive,  out  of  the  deadly  clutch  of 
a  poor  delirious  wretch  who  was  not  con- 
scious of  what  she  was  doing  and  had 
always  loved  her  with  the  fidelity  and 
humbleness  of  a  dog." 

"  It  was  dreadful.  But  I  guess  we'd 
better  go  now.  I  shall  be  careful  never  to 
give  a  hint  to  mother  about  this  ;  but  in- 
deed, Hope,  it  makes  me  shiver  to  think 
of  it,"  said  Eva  as  they  went  out,  locking 
the  door  after  them ;  and  having  put  away 
the  comforts  and  quilts,  they  ran  lightly 
down  stairs  and  were  soon  chatting  mer- 
rily over  their  sewing,  about  the  grand 
sleighride  they  expected  to  have  as  soon 
as  Nicholas  and  John  Wilde  came  back. 
They  were  not  conscious  of  the  little  seed 
dropped  into  the  virgin  soil  of  their  hearts 
by  the  soft  wind  that  had  breathed  over 
them ;  but  it  was  nestling  there  invisibly — 
cumbering  nothing,  so  light  was  it,  and 
giving  them  no  sense  of  uneasiness  by  its 
presence;  but  by-and-by  it  would  begin 
to  send  out  its  fibres,  and  spring  into 
beautiful  life. 


AVE     MARIA. 


123 


Cold  wfather  now  set  stcmlily  in  ;  such 
cold  as  people  who  live  in  southern  lands 
can  scarcely  inia^^ine.  The  roads,  hard 
packed  with  frozen  snow,  were  as  smooth 
as  polished  marble ;  and  over  them  from 
morning  until  night,  from  night  some- 
times until  morning,  gay  cutters  and 
large  double  sleighs  filled  with  young  peo- 
ple rosy  with  health  and  life,  and  old  peo- 
ple whose  cheeks  wore  the  bloom  of  a 
winter  apple  and  children  shouting  and 
laughing  with  glee,  skimmed  here  and 
there,  up  and  down  the  country,  to  the 
jingle  of  numberless  bells,  which  tinkled 
far  and  near  in  scales  of  sweet-sounding 
notes.  It  was  the  gay  season  of  the  sedate 
puritan  neighborhood,  and  much  visiting 
was  done,  much  tea  was  drunk,  and  warm 
hospitalities  exchanged.  Of  course  there 
was  gossip,  and  scandal,  and  match-mak- 
ing, and  even  merry-making,  and  heart- 
burnings, and  cnvyings,  and  petty  jeal- 
ousies ;  besides  a  great  deal  of  solemn 
talk  amongst  the  old  "  members "  about 
religious  matters ;  then  the  stranger  who 
had  been  weather-bound  at  the  Flemmings' 
was  turned  over,  and  much  indignation 
expressed  that  a  papist  should  have  abode 
among  the  godly;  after  which  followed  a 
discussion  on  the  dangers  of  popery  ;  then 
more  than  one  or  two  disparaging  hints 
were  thrown  out  against  Elder  Flemming 
for  giving  the  man  hospitality ;  "  if  he 
must  needs  take  him,"  said  they,  "  the 
barn  was  a  good  enough  place  for  such  a 
character,  and  not  the  sacred  hearthstone 
where  the  righteous  had  sat  for  more  than 
a  century;"  then  some  of  them  thought 
the  Elder  cherished  "  peculiar  views,"  and 
wondered  at  the  loose  rein  he  held  over 
his  children,  at  whose  vanities  he  winked, 
even  allowing  them  to  dance  to  the  "  sound 
of  the  viol  "  in  the  assemblies  of  the 
wicked;  concluding  with:  "  there  is  some- 
thing unsound  at  the  core," — meaning 
him.  And  there  was  no  want  of  kindness 
among  4hem ;  they  thought  they  were 
serving  God,  and  vigilant  in  His  service, 
when  they  sat  in  judgment  on  their  breth- 
ren's shortcomings  or  actual  transgres- 
sions ;    they    imagined    they   knew   what 


self-righteousness  meant,  without  dream- 
ing that  they  were  clothed  in  it  as  with  a 
garment ;  and  they  firmly  believed  that 
their  first  duty  to  God  and  man  was  to 
cherish  and  defend  everything  in  their 
religion  in  the  sternest  antithetical  way 
against  popery,  their  views  of  which  were 
as  antithetical  to  the  real  thing  as  darkness 
is  to  light.  This  was  the  rallying-point 
where  all  agreed;  the  forlorn  hope  which 
kept  them  from  wildly  scattering,  and 
straying  into  open  infidelity;  the  enemy 
which  kept  them  vigilant,  and  alert,  and 
concentrated ;  at  times,  when  stranded 
among  the  bewildering  rocks  of  the  right 
of  "  i»rivate  interpretation,"  each  one  felt 
authorized  to  set  up  new  doctrinal  lights, 
until  there  was  danger  of  their  being  lost 
in  utter  darkness.  So  when  these  ofi*- 
shoot  sects  of  the  old  Puritan  tree  disa- 
greed in  all  things  else,  they  shook  hands 
over  the  "  downfall  of  the  Pope "  and 
buried  the  tomahawk. 

Up  and  down  through  the  wild,  glorious 
scenery  of  this  region,  with  the  sun  sprink- 
ling millions  of  lesser  suns  on  ice-crowned 
peak  and  snow-draped  mountain,  skimmed 
the  fleet  sleighs ;  and  many  a  poor  half- 
famished  family  received  gifts  as  they 
stopped  a  moment  in  front  of  their  brown 
huts — such  gifts  as  a  fat  turkey,  or  a  joint, 
or  a  basket  of  pies,  and  other  substantial 
things  which  fed  the  hungry  and  sent  the 
little  ones  to  bed  happy  and  warm.  They 
generally  looked  close  at  the  main  chance, 
but  on  the  whole  were  as  humane  and 
kindly  of  heart  as  most  people,  fulfilling 
all  the  duties  of  the  natural  laws  with 
scrupulous  fidelity,  but  as  ignorant  of  the 
truth  as  revealed  to  His  Church  by  Jesus 
Christ,  as  are  the  dwellers  in  Hindostanee 
or  Central  Africa. 

But  nothing  of  this  disturbed  the  sedate 
carnival-time  of  our  puritan  friends,  along 
the  lake  shore  and  up  the  mountain  slopes 
stretching  back  from  its  frozen  waters. 
Eva,  Hope,  Nicholas,  Reuben  and  John 
Wilde,  in  the  double  sleigh,  drawn  by  four 
horses  decorated  with  fringes  and  bells; 
snugly  tucked  in  with  Canadian  blankets 
and  covered  with  buffalo  robes,  whirled  up 


124r 


AVE     MARIA. 


with  gay  clangor  to  Deacon  Sncathen's, 
lifted  Hukiali,  who  was  expecting  them, 
into  the  midst  of  them,  smothering  her 
laughter  under  the  soft  furry  mantle  that 
Nicholas  threw  around  her;  then  sped, 
swiftly  as  any  swallow  could  fly,  along  the 
up-country  road,  singing,  chatting  and 
laughing  by  turns,  enjoying  the  extatic 
aerial  motion,  and  the  prospect  of  a  good 
supper  at  John  Wilde's  mother's  and  a 
quiet  home-dance  after  it,  with  such  whole- 
some and  delightful  anticipations  of  pleas- 
ure as  it  is  the  privilege  and  happiness  of 
the  young  and  innocent  to  enjoy. 

[to  bb  conttntjed.] 
i^ «  »  «  » 


Pabis,  Jan.  11,  1869. 


Rev.  dear  Father  : 

In  looking  over  No.  52  of  last  year,  I 
perceive  that  I  forgot  to  mention  respect- 
ing "  The  Christian  Marriage,"  that  I  had 
obtained  from  its  illustrious  author  due 
and  gracious  leave  to  publish  it  in  En- 
glish. 

I  was  invited  to  preside  yesterday  at 
two  meetings  of  devoted  souls,  both  doing 
an  immense  service  to  our  blessed  Moth- 
er's holy  cause.  I  could  accept  but  one ; 
the  other  I  had  to  postpone  to  another 
month.  What  I  witnessed  yesterday  at 
"Notre  Dame  des  Arts"  edified  and  de- 
lighted me.  Our  Fathers  here  have  the 
spiritual  direction  of  the  establishment, 
scarcely  ten  minutes'  walk  from  our  col- 
lege. It  was  an  extra  meeting,  to  award 
premiums  to  the  most  meritorious  pupils 
in  the  important  branch  of  Religion.  Fa- 
ther Superior  made  quite  a  speech  at  the 
opening,  to  show  the  superior  merit  of  his 
division,  the  Seniors,  which  was  indeed 
gloriously  sustained  by  the  reading  of 
several  analyses  of  the  last  instructions, 
admirably  written  and  as  well  delivered. 
Rev.  Father  Sauvayre  would  not  admit 
by  any  means  that  his  departments,  Ju- 
niors and  Minims,  were  less  entitled  to 
encouragement  and  praise ;  and  in  proof, 
six    of  them,    designated  by   lot  drawn 


in  our  presence,  came  forward  and  chal- 
lenged each  other  for  half  an  hour  in  a 
manner  equally  serious  to  themselves  and 
interesting  to  us  all.  They  certainly 
proved  that  they  knew  their  catechism 
well.  The  whole  of  the  entertainment 
was  enlivened  by  singing  and  playing,  as 
is  seldom  seen  even  in  Paris. 

Notre  Dame  deg  Arts  is  a  thoroughly 
catholic  and  pious  institution,  founded 
chiefly  for  the  benefit  of  young  ladies 
who  have  a  taste  and  special  dispositions 
for  one  or  the  other  of  the  fine  arts.  The 
most  celebrated  artists  in  the  capital  are 
professors,  and  they  frequently  keep  their 
daughters  in  it.  The  number  of  pupils  at 
this  moment  is  140.  The  house,  I  am  told,  is 
one  of  the  wings  of  King  Louis  Philippe's 
palace,  in  Neuilly.  We  saw  there  yester- 
day specimens  of  drawing,  painting,  en- 
gravings on  wood,  steel,  copper,  etc.,  etc., 
of  rare  beauty.  It  seems  to  me  we  should 
have  some  such  an  institution  in  the 
United  States.  The  Mother  Superior  made 
me  promise  to  return  some  day  next  week. 
I  may  write  again  on  the  same  subject. 
I  was  particularly  struck  with  the  modest 
and  ladylike  deportment  of  the  young  pu- 
pils; next  came  in  my  appreciation  the 
astonishing  perfection  of  their  execution 
in  reading,  playing  and  singing;  every 
syllable  was  articulated,  and  the  tone  nat- 
ural and  charming.  Their  decoration  is 
simply  a  monument  of  elegance  and  taste; 
although  they  say  that  our  own,  recently 
executed  by  the  same  artist,  for  Notre 
Dame,  is  at  least  equal  in  beauty.  I  have 
another  in  view  for  St.  Mary's,  which  of 
course  should  yield  to  neither.  Unfortu- 
nately everything  fine  here  costs  a  great 
deal,  and  greenbacks  are  not  taken  in  pay- 
ment. You  Avill  see  a  specimen  of  my 
taste  when  I  return  in  May. 

E.  S. 


Flight  of  a  Polish  Bishop. — Recounts 
state  that  Mgr.  Majerezak,  catholic  bishop 
of  Kielce,  in  Poland,  being  in  fear  of  trans- 
portation to  Siberia,  has  escaped  into  Aus- 
tria in  disguise. 


AVE      MARIA. 


125 


€«rea. 


A  letter  addressed  to  the  Missions  Cath- 
oliqiies  by  the  directors  of  the  Seminary  of 
"Foreign  Missions"  leaves  no  doubt  of 
the  fact  that  upwards  of  2,000  christians 
in  Coreahave  been  put  to  death  on  account 
of  their  faith.  The  persecution  which 
broke  out  in  the  month  of  March,  1866, 
by  the  martyrdom  of  nine  missionaries,  is 
going  on  with  redoubled  fury.  It  is  no 
longer  the  seizure  of  individuals,  but 
wholesale  proscription  with  the  object  of 
rooting  out  every  vestige  of  Christianity. 
Only  so  much  as  was  thought  advisable  of 
the  letter  received  from  the  Serainaiy  of 
Foreign  Missions  has  been  published.  The 
news  is  to  the  1 8th  of  September,  1 868.  The 
number  of  martyrs  has  been  estimated  at 
2,000,  and  it  is  affirmed  that  more  than  500 
have  been  put  to  death  at  Seoul,  the  capital 
town.  In  the  provinces  the  christians  are 
interrogated,  but  at  the  capital  all  such  as 
are  known  to  have  been  christians  are  at 
once,  and  without  any  trial,  strangled  in 
prison.  All  the  christians  are  scattered,  and 
a  great  number  of  the  faithful  have  perished 
from  want.  The  pagans  make  use  of  the  per- 
secution to  take  away  from  the  christians 
what  little  property  they  may  be  possessed 
of.  A  new  law  prescribes  that  every  immi- 
grant should  present  himself  to  the  man- 
darin of  the  territory  in  order  that  it  may 
be  known  whether  he  is  a  christian  or 
not.  "In  ten  years  at  least,"  said  the 
Governor,  "I  will  destroy  this  religion  root 
and  branch."  Many  unhappy  christians  of 
the  capital  have  apostatized;  one  of  them  is 
the  son  of  acatechist  quite  recently  martyr- 
ed. Corrupted  by  money,  and  by  the  prom- 
ises of  the  Nero  of  Corea,  these  wretched 
men  betrayed  into  his  cruel  hands  many  of 
their  former  associates  in  the  faith.  The 
Governor,  noted  for  his  sanguinary  dispo- 
sition and  for  his  rapacity,  has  alienated  the 
hearts  of  the  people.  Money  failing  in  the 
country,  he  has  had  a  coin  struck  of  no  in- 
trinsic value,  which  he  has  compelled  peo- 
ple to  take  at  its  nominal  value.  Several 
]>ersons  who  refused  to  accept  this  coin  have 


been  put  to  death,  as  well  as  many  rich, 
whose  goods  he  coveted.  His  elder  bro- 
ther having  ventured  to  remonstrate  with 
him  has  had  to  flee  from  the  capital  and  to 
conceal  himself.  The  people  of  Corea  are 
weary  of  these  horrors.  In  spite  of  their 
grievous  sufferings  there  are  amongst  the 
christians  many  admirable  examples  of  fid- 
elity. Of  two  families  occupying  the 
same  house,  one  was  christian  and  the 
other  pagan.  On  the  breaking  out  of  the 
persecution  the  christian  family  abandon- 
ed the  external  practice  of  religion,  and 
one  of  its  members  contracted  a  marriage 
with  a  pagan.  Such  an  event  was  not  a 
likely  means  of  ameliorating  indifferent 
and  lax  dispositions,  nevertheless  it  had  a 
contrary  effect  to  what  would  have  been 
supposed.  The  son-in-law  did  not  fail  to 
notice  the  timid  manner  in  which  the 
christian  religion  was  practised  :  he  sought 
for  explanation.  His  christian  relations 
had  the  courage  to  conceal  nothing  from 
him.  He  made  himself  acquainted  with 
christian  doctrines  and  dissuaded  the  lax 
members  of  his  family  from  abandoning 
their  religion.  He  himself  soon  became 
a  christian,  and  now  this  family  ofters  an 
asylum  to  the  first  missionaries  who  shall 
return  to  Corea.  This  however  is  not  the 
only  family  that  has  done  so ;  there  are  many 
others  that  solicit  this  perilous  honor. — 
Westminster  Gazette. 

The  admirers  of  Victor  Emmanuel  must 
be  pleased  to  see  the  progress  of  the  pagans 
in  Corea,  who  imitate  the  example  of  the 
Italian  and  Spanish  revolutionists  in  "  mak- 
ing use  of  persecution  to  take  away  from 
christians  what  little  property  they  may 
be  possessed  of." 


Turin,  Jan.  11. 
The  prisons,  especially  of  the  north  of 
Italy,  are  filled  with  the  peasants  who  have 
been  taken  in  arms  against  the  meal  tax. 
The  ebullition  has  been  the  greatest  in  all 
loyal  Piedmont  but  has  been  pretty  gener- 
al everywhere;  in  fact,  all  the  papers  of 
every  color  set  apart  a  large  portion  of 
their  columns  every  day  for  what  they  call 


126 


AVE      MARIA. 


"  the  chronicle  of  the  meal  tax."  In  Milan 
indeed,  there  is  something  more  important 
to  occupy  attention;  there  the  early  car- 
nival is  in  full  force,  and  that  is  more 
amusing  even  than  fighting  the  Govern- 
ment. 

The  most  distressing  narratives  are  given 
of  the  suiferings  of  the  people;  to  quote 
one  account:  "the  whole  valley  of  the  Po, 
from  Susa  to  Ferrara,  may  be  said  to  be 
strewn  with  gunpowder,  which  is  every 
here  and  there  being  fired  and  spreading 
devastation  around."  AtReggello,  in  the 
valley  of  the  Aruo,  not  more  than  twenty 
miles  from  the  capital,  the  people  of  some 
half-a-score  neighboring  villages  collected 
and  quite  overpowered  any  force  that  could 
be  called  together  to  oppose  them.  A  com- 
pany of  carabinieri  gathered  round  the 
Syndic,  but  were  speedily  dispersed,  one 
receiving  a  bad  wound  from  a  scythe,  an- 
other getting  his  finger  cut  off  with  a 
pruning  knife,  Avhilc  the  peasants  forced 
the  Syndic  to  sign  an  order  empowering 
the  millers  of  the  neighborhood  to  set  tlieir 
mills  to  work  exempt  from  the  tax.  But 
though  the  people  may  have  had  their  way 
here  they  have  been  pretty  severely  dealt 
with  in  most  places,  and  the  Government 
which  would  interfere  with  the  execution 
of  criminals  in  Rome  has  no  pity  for  the 
bloodshed  of  its  own  people  fighting  for 
bread  for  their  families.  There  is  no  need 
to  suggest,  for  any  one  can  tell,  what  lan- 
guage would  now  fill  the  columns  of  the 
contemporary  press  if  such  scenes  were  be- 
ing enacted  in  the  Papal  State.  The  com- 
placency with  which  they  arc  now  watched 
in  Italy,  after  tlie  storm  that  was  raised  in 
favor  of  Monti  and  Tognetti,  is  a  fine  ex- 
ample of  the  perverse  judgment  of  the  ene- 
mies of  the  Papacy,  and  a  striking  proof  of 
their  little  real  sympathy  for  the  people. — 
Westminster  Gazette. 


The  son  of  Prince  Rospigliori,  who  is 
in  the  Zouaves  as  a  sergeant,  is,  it  is  said, 
about  to  be  raised  to  the  rank  of  an  officer 
in  the  regiment.  This  appointment  will, 
if  it  takes  place,  have  an  excellent  efl:ect 
among  the  Roman  noblesse.  • 


Female  Luxury  and  Extravagance. 

The  following  letter  of  the  Holy  Father 
to  Madame  de  Gentelles  will  be  no  less 
instructive  and  edifying  to  our  lady  readers 
than  it  was  complimentary  to  her : 

To  our  dear  daughter  in  Jesus  Christ,  Ma- 
rie de  Gentelles,  greeting  and  Apostolic 
Benediction. 

In  these  perilous  times  it  is  our  custom 
to  apply  ourselves,  above  all,  to  the  extir- 
pation of  the  roots  of  evil,  among  which 
doubtless  the  luxury  of  women  holds  a 
vei'y  prominent  place.  Thus  in  the  month 
of  October  last,  speaking  of  the  respect 
due  to  the  sanctity  of  our  churches,  and  of 
the  means  to  overcome  certain  disorders 
which  had  crept  in  amongst  our  Roman 
people,  we  endeavored  to  say  something 
of  this  terrible  scourge,  this  luxury  which 
is  everywhere  spreading  its  ravages,  and 
of  the  remedies  proper  to  meet  it. 

We  see,  therefore  with  the  greatest  sat- 
isfaction, dear  daughter  in  Jesus  Christ, 
that,  not  content  with  merely  following  our 
advice,  you  have  so  well  understood  the  im- 
portance of  it,  as  to  write  a  book  upon  the 
unhappy  consequences  of  luxury,  in  order  to 
incite  the  women  of  our  age,  and  above  all 
those  who  have  enrolled  themselves  as 
Christian  Mothers  and  Children  ofMary,to 
organize  themselves  against  an  evil  which  is 
the  destruction  of  morals  and  of  family  life. 

For  this  continual  and  undivided  atten- 
tion to  the  cares  of  dress  absorbs  time 
which  ought  to  be  devoted  to  works  of  pi- 
ety and  charity,  and  to  family  duties.  It 
is  this  which  is  the  occasion  of  brilliant 
assemblies,  public  promenades,  and  thea- 
tres; which  incites  women  to  perpetual 
running  from  house  to  house,  under  pre- 
tence of  having  some  duty  to  fulfill,  and 
thus  to  pass  their  time  in  idleness,  curios- 
ity and  indiscreet  conversation ;  which 
serves  as  food  for  evil  desires,  which  con- 
sumes the  resources  which  ought  to  be  re- 
served for  children,  and  withholds  from 
poverty  the  aid  which  it  ought  to  receive. 
It  is  this  which  so  often  separates  husband 


AVE     MARIA. 


127 


and  wife,  and  still  more  frequently  pre- 
vents niarringe;  for  liardly  are  there  men 
to  bo  foniid  willing  to  un«lertako  such 
enormous  expenses.  As  Tertullian  says, 
"  An  immense  patrimony  is  spent  upon  a 
trifle.  Upon  a  necklace,  10,000,000  ses- 
terces. A  frail  and  delicate  head  bears 
upon  it  the  price  of  forests  and  islands. 
Small  ears  absorb  the  revenues  of  a  month, 
and  each  finger  of  the  left  hand  plays  with 
as  many  bags  of  gold.  Vanity  gives 
strength  to  a  single  body,  and  that  the 
body  of  a  woman,  to  carry  an  enormous 
capital  of  wealth." 

Now  we  know  from  experience  that  this 
impediment  to  marriage  furnishes  new 
material  for  disorder.  To  luxury  are  sac- 
rificed the  education  of  children,  the  care 
of  domestic  interests — all  this  is  entirely 
overthrown.  Thence  is  incurred  the  rep- 
robation of  the  Apostle,  "If  any  one  has 
not  care  for  his  own,  and,  above  all,  of  his 
household,  he  has  denied  the  faith,  he  is 
worse  than  an  infidel."  But  seeing  that  a 
town  is  composed  of  families,  a  province 
of  towns,  a  kingdom  of  provinces,  then,  the 
family  being  corrupted,  it  poisons  at  its 
source  the  whole  of  society,  and  insensiV)ly 
prepares  for  it  those  calamities  which  at  the 
present  are  overwhelming  us  on  all  sides. 

May  God  grant  that  a  great  number  of 
women  may  unite  with  you  to  remove  from 
themselves,  their  neighbors,  and  their 
country  the  cause  of  so  many  evils,  and 
teach  others  to  reject  all  which  exceeds 
the  legitimate  care  of  the  body.  Let  each 
and  all  be  persuaded  that,  in  order  to  con- 
ciliate the  esteem  and  affection  of  their 
Imsbands,  they  have  no  need  of  such  costly 
head-dresses,  of  such  splendid  garments, 
but  ratlu'r  lot  them  ctiltivate  their  mind, 
their  heart,  their  virtue;  for  "all  their 
glory  comes  from  within."  The  holy  and 
modest  woman  is  but  grace  added  to  grace ! 
"Alone  indeed  will  she  be  praised,  the 
woman  who  feareih  the  Lord." 

Therefore  do  we  augur  for  yonr  enterprise 
a  most  happy  success,  and,  as  pledge  of 
this  succeas,  and  <>!'  our  paternal  good 
will,  we  grant  you  most  tenderly  our  Apos- 
tolic Benediction.  Pius,  P.  P.  IX. 


Japan. — The  Rev.  P6ro  Perny,  mission- 
ary in  China,  sends  us  the  following  anec- 
dote: A  new  church  having  been  lately 
opened  in  Japan,  several  of  the  inhabit- 
ants asked  to  speak  with  the  missionaries, 
and  put  to  them  the  following  questions: 
1st.  "  Are  you  subject  to  the  great  head  of 
the  Church  in  Rome?"  "Yes,"  replied 
the  missionaries,  "we  are  the  children  of 
the  Sovereign  Pontiff,  our  Holy  Father  the 
Pope,  Head  of  the  Church,  and  Vicar  of 
Jesus  Christ  upon  earth."  2.  "Are  you 
married?"  "No,  for  we  are  priests,  and 
catholic  priests  make  a  vow  of  celibacy; 
the  souls  intrusted  to  their  care  constitute 
their  family."  3.  "Do  you  believe  in  the 
Immacul.ate  Conception  of  the  Blessed 
Virgin  Mary,  Mother  of  God?"  "Yes, 
that  is  our  faith,  and  we  say  with  the 
Church,  'O  Mary,  conceived  without  sin, 
pray  for  us.' "  After  hearing  this  last  an- 
swer, the  Japanese  threw  themselves  at  the 
feet  of  the  missionaries,  embraced  them, 
and  bathed  them  with  their  tears.  Then 
rising,  they  said,  "Yes,  you  are  indeed 
true  catholic  priests,  and  we  are  your  chil- 
dren, for  we  are  christians;  and  besides, 
there  are  in  the  vast  empire  of  Japan  thou- 
sands of  catholics  who  practice  in  secret 
the  ancient  faith  of  the  martyrs."  The 
missionaries,  struck  with  astonishment, 
j)raised  and  blessed  God;  and  Pins  IX, 
when  he  heard  of  it,  shed  tears  of  joy. 
Thus,  at  the  end  of  two  centuries,  having 
escaped  the  sword  of  the  persecutor,  silent 
and  forgotten,  tiie  Church  in  Japan  can 
hold  up  her  head  and  say,  I  am  the  daugh- 
ter of  St.  Francis  Xavier,  of  the  martyrs 
canonized  by  Pius  IX." — LomTon  Tablet. 


Prince  Massimo. — The  young  Prince 
Massimo,  representative  of  one  of  the  old- 
est Roman  families,  has  just  entered  the 
Jesuit  Novitiate.  His  parents  liad  re- 
(juired  of  him  to  live  for  three  years  in 
the  world,  in  ordvr  to  try  his  vocation  ; 
and  before  parting  with  their  son,  they 
presented  him  to  the  Sovereign  Pontifl*, 
whose  paternal  benediction  he  received. 


128 


AVE      MARIA. 


ANNALS 

or 

OUR  LADY  OF  THE  SACRED  HEART. 
The  Statne  of  Oar  Lady  of  the  Sacred  Heart. 


Two  thoughts  predominate  on  this  sub- 
ject. 

1.  The  august  Mother  of  God,  dispen- 
ser of  celestial  treasures;  Mary,  Queen  of 
heaven  and  earth,  furthermore  the  Sover- 
eign of  the  Heart  of  Jesus !  Mary,  in  a 
word,  continues  to  give  Jesus  Christ  to 
the  world,  and  with  Him  the  treasures  of 
grace  inclosed  in  the  Sacred  Heart. 

2.  Jesus  Christ  Himself  offering  to  all 
men,  with  His  Heart,  the  inexhaustible 
riches  of  mercy  and  love  which  it  con- 
tains, and  invitirig  every  weak,  languish- 
ing and  criminal  soul  to  come  and  draw 
tlience,  from  His  Sacred  Heart,  mercy  and 
grace  in  due  time. 

In  this  statue  we  find,  first,  Mary  Im- 
maculate— erect,  arms  extended,  her  eyes 
modestly  cast  down,  her  hands  open  to  dis- 
pense to  mankind  the  graces  of  which  she 
is  the  treasurer :  Mary, — such  as  she  ap- 
peared in  1834  to  a  humble  daughter  of 
St.  Vincent  de  Paul. 

Mary  Immaculate !  Is  it  not  to  her  incom- 
parable purity  she  owes  the  unlimited 
power  she  possesses  over  the  Heart  of 
Jesus! 

She  stands,  her  head  gently  inclined, 
her  ai-ms  held  out  towards  those  who  pray 
to  her.  She  thus  signifies  her  unceasing 
attention  to  the  prayers  of  her  children, — 
modesty  and  grace  adorning  her  counte- 
nance. Her  eyes  are  lovingly  bent  on 
the  Divine  Child — standing  also,  but  be- 
fore His  Mother.  She  seems  to  present 
Him  to  the  faithful  who  come  to  pray  to 
her.  She  says  to  them  in  this  attitude 
that  she  draws  from  Him  all  her  power, 
and  that  His  adorable  Heart  is  the  source 
of  every  gnice  she  obtains;  and  in  this  at- 
titude is  Mary  represented. 

But  Jesus? 


The  Child  Jesus  stands — showing  with 
one  hand  His  Heart,  surrounded  with  a 
brilliant  light,  encircled  with  a  crown  of 
thorns,  surmounted  by  a  cross,  rays  of  light 
beaming  from  it  in  abundance;  His  eyes 
turned  towards  the  faithful,  on  whom  He 
looks  with  benevolence,  seeming  to  say  to 
them  as  to  Blessed  Margaret  Mary:  "Be- 
hold this  Heart  which  has  so  much  loved 
man !  It  contains  grace  enough  to  save 
the  world  from  the  abyss  into  which  it  is 
precipitated.  Come,recelve  with  joy  from 
the  source  of  My  love  the  salutary  waters 
of  grace."  With  the  other  hand  raised  to 
the  shoulder  and  bent  backward,  pointing 
to  His  Mother,  saying,  as  it  were :  "  But  to 
draw  with  confidence  from  My  Heart,  ad- 
dress yourselves  to  Mary.  She  is  its 
treasurer;  she  alone  possesses  the  key;  I 
have  given  her  all  power  over  My  Heart." 

And  why  is  Jesus  represented  as  a 
Child?  To  explain  in  the  most  sensible 
manner  His  dependence  on  Mary  and  the 
sovereign  power  She  enjoyed  with  Him. 
How  else  show  in  so  sensible  and  tangi- 
ble a  manner,  as  it  were,  the  humble  defer- 
ence of  Jesus  for  His  august  Mother,  and 
the  supreme  power  she  exercises  over  His 
Heart,  if  not  in  placing  Him  standing  at 
Mary's  feet  under  the  lovely  characteris- 
tics of  childhood? 

This  touching  subject  has  been  execu- 
ted with  a  rare  perfection  by  M.  Tobin,  of 
Tours,  and  placed  in  the  chapel  of  Our 
Lady  of  the  Sacred  Heart  at  Issoudun; 
but  since  then  a  plastic  group  was  mod- 
elled from  this  statue  in  honor  of  Our 
Lady  of  the  Sacred  Heart.  What  pious 
emotions,  what  consoling  thoughts  are  not 
awakened  at  the  sight  of  this  blessed 
statue ! 

[A  large  number  of  these  beautiful  stat- 
ues have  lately  been  received  from  France, 
and  can  be  had  by  applying  to  the  Secre- 
tary of  the  Association  of  Our  Lady  of 
the  Sacred  Heart,  St.  Mary's,  Notre  Dame, 
Indiana.] 


Thosk  who  have  loved  Jesus  most,  have 
ever  been  most  devout  to  Mary. 


AVE   MARIA. 

a  (tathoUc  ^ouvmtl  devoted  ta  the  |iottav  of  the  ^le^sxed  ^itjjiit 


Vol.  V. 


NOTRE  BAME,  INDIANA,  PEBRUABY  27,  1869. 


No.  9. 


\ 


THE  MONTH  OF  iMARCH: 

Dedicated  to  St.  Joseph. 


There  is  something  peculiarly  totiching 
in  the  devotion  to  St.  Joseph — something 
that  thrills  in  our  inmost  souls,  antl  kin- 
dles in  our  hearts  a  warmth  and  tender- 
ness of  its  own.  We  cannot  but  love  him 
— so  paternal,  so  tender,  so  gentle  towards 
his  unworthy  children ;  and  then,  if  we 
have  ever  invoked  his  intercession  in  some 
special  trouble,  some  deep  necessity,  how 
speedily  and  graciously  have  we  been 
succored ! 

Sweet  spouse  of  our  Lady,  we  love  thee ; 
and  we  desire  that  all  men  should  love 
thee,  and  know  the  kindness  of  thy  pater- 
nal heart  and  the  greatness  of  thy  glory. 
If  we  must  love  Mary  because  she  is  the 
Mother  of  Jesus,  we  cannot  but  love  and 
honor  St.  Joseph  as  the  protector  and 
guardian  of  our  Mother;  as  the  one  chosen 
by  the  Eternal  Father  to  shield  and  defend 
the  helpless  Infancy  of  the  Incarnate  God. 
Where  did  devotion  to  Saint  Joseph 
begin  ? 

Surely  we  may  say  reverently  that  Jesus 
was  the  first  who  was  devout  to  Joseph, 
whilst  Joseph  was  the  first  who  protected 
Jesus.  What  a  noble,  what  a  grand  sim- 
plicity there  is  in  all  the  conduct  of  this 
great  Saint!  How  silent  under  his  diffi- 
culties and  perplexities  !  How  respectful 
and  tender  in  his  love  of  Mary  and  his 
Care  of  Jesus !  If  we  would  indeed  learn 
to  be  saints,  and  desire  the  aid  of  one  who 
would  be  at  once  our  example  and  power- 
ful helper,  let  us  study  the  life  of  Joseph. 


Do  we  need  an  example  of  the  most  per- 
fect self- forgetful ness,  let  us  consider  the 
conduct  of  this  great  patriarch  in  the  per- 
plexities of  his  first  dolor.  Ho  is  espoused 
to  Mary ;  but  behold  a  mystery  which  he 
understands  not,  a  miiacle  which  he  can- 
not fathom.  Does  he  rashly  judge,  or 
rudely  intrude  uncharitable  surmises?  No; 
he  is  indeed  perplexed,  distressed,  troubled ; 
but  he  is  silent:  he  adores  what  he  cannot 
comprehend ;  he  forbears  to  judge  the 
mystery,  as  yet  unfolded;  he  will  suflfer 
himself,  for  he  will  withdraw  from  Mary 
and  forego  the  privilege  he  has  so  long 
desired  of  being  her  protector  and  her 
guardian ;  he  will  forget  himself,  and  be 
silent  about  his  own  deep  griefs,  but  he 
will  not  add  to  those  of  others.  With  the 
calm  trust  of  deep  sanctity,  which  ever 
hopes  through  all  darkness  and  perplexi- 
ties, the  great  Saint  has  laid  him  down  to 
rest;  can  we  guess  what  acts  of  conform- 
ity to  the  Divine  will  he  made,  and  how 
his  heart  watched  even  while  his  body 
slept?  But  Jesus  was  Incarnate  in  Mary's 
womb :  He  heard  all.  He  saw  all.  He  knew 
all,  though  He  was  silent  and  still,  and 
seemed — as  now  in  the  tabernacle — as 
though  He  neither  knew  nor  heard.  Jo- 
seph slept  the  sleep  of  blessed,  childlike, 
tender  love,  and  Jesus  watched  as  He  ever 
watches  the  sleep  of  His  beloved  ones. 
An  angel  came,  and  Josejih  heard  himself 
called  by  name  and  honored  with  the  title 
of  prince.  "  Joseph,„a<Mi4jf  David,"  royal 
scion  of  a  royal  b<Mfe^j,jilApavgels  wait  on 
thee  with  joy,  ^^Tntliy^fh^^ame  with 
jubilation.  Tl*^lorro\^s  yrnVt,  and  the 
joy  is  come,  anloiV^ov^Jbt  '^ViHl O  Joseph, 
with  a  gladness^MM^Ureijiw^uselfish  as 
was  thy  grief;  thottsj^ia^Ifei^^onger  fear  to 


130 


AVE     MARIA. 


be  separated  from  Mary.  But  there  is 
more  joy  for  thee  even  yet;  thou  shall  be 
the  father,  the  protector,  the  ^uartlian  of 
thy  God.  Angels  shall  think  themselves 
honored  to  wait  upon  thee ;  the  patriarchs 
shall  long  to  behold  thee ;  the  apostles 
shall  claim  thee  as  their  protector;  tlie 
saints  shall  honor  thee  as  their  father. 
All  nations  shall  call  thee  blessed  among 
men,  and  all  who  seek  thy  intercession  and 
protection  shall  proclaim  in  time  and  in 
eternity  the  greatness  of  thy  power. 

But  the  joy  of  our  great  Saint  cannot 
last  long ;  he  is  too  dear  to  the  heart  of 
the  little  Infant  Jesus  to  be  without  the 
privilege  of  suffering.  His  God  is  born  in 
a  stable,  and  the  tender  soul  of  Joseph  is 
well-nigh  crushed  as  he  contemplates  the 
trials  of  the  Mother  and  the  Child.  In 
vain  ho  deprives  himself  of  every  neces- 
sary— for  comforts  he  luisnone;  in  vain 
he  weeps  and  prays :  Jesus  will  suffer,  and 
Mary  and  Joseph  must  suffer  also.  But 
again  the  angels  comfort  him :  there  is  joy 
in  heaven  if  there  is  sorrow  on  earth,  and 
the  poor  shei)herds  and  adoring  kings 
compensate  in  some  manner  for  the  cold- 
ness of  Bethlehem.  More  painful  still  is 
the  third  dolor:  not  only  must  the  little 
Jesus  bear  neglect  and  cold  and  poverty, 
but  pain  and  blood  must  testify  the  malice 
of  our  sin  and  the  excess  of  Divine  love. 
Joseph  beholds  that  blessed  Infant — so 
touchingly  meek,  so  patiently  silent;  and 
oh,  what  anguish  fills  his  heart  when  the 
dreadful  day  of  circumcision  requires  him 
as  the  fosterfather,  as  the  reputed  parent 
of  Jesus,  to  cause  Him  yet  greater  suffer- 
ings. Truly,  if  we  meditate  well  or  if  we 
thought  deeply  on  the  sufferings  of  Jesus, 
Mary  and  Joseph,  we  would  never  utter 
even  the  faintest  complaint,  however  hard 
our  trials  might  seem.  But  the  sweet 
name  of  Jesus  is  uttered ;  not  Mary, — oh, 
wonder  of  wonders  ! — but  Joseph  it  is  who 
pronounces  that  blessed  Avord,  .Tesus.  The 
angels  have  hdard  it,  atid  they  sing  it  out 
in  gushing  melody" of  cn^rapcing  love  upon 
their  goldeh  h'arps.  Jc^'u.*^! — they  breathe 
the  accents  to^each  other — now  low  like 
summer-scented    breezes,    now    in  a    tri- 


umphant jubilee.  Jesus  1 — The  patient  souls 
who  have  waited  so  long  in  silent,  awful 
hope  lor  the  coming  of  One  who  should 
deliver  and  redeem — they  too  have  heard 
the  soMud,  for  it  has  evoked  a  strain  of 
harmony  which  shall  never  cease;  and 
they — oh,  with  what  love,  with  what  desire 
do  they  not  utter  again  and  again  that 
word,  Jesus !  The  demons  have  heard  it, 
and  have  fled  affrighted  at  that  name,  to 
them  so  full  of  terrific  fear;  their  power 
is  henceforth  shaken ;  their  empire  of  tyr- 
anny is  well-nigh  overthrown ;  their  ora- 
cles shall  henceforth  be  dumb ;  for  at  the 
name  of  Jesus  every  knee  shall  bow,  in 
heaven,  on  earth  and  in  hell. 

Again  Jose'ph  must  suffer:  but  still  it  is 
for  and  with  others;  the  Babe  of  Bethle- 
hem is  presented  in  the  temple,  and  the 
dolors  of  Mary  are  told  in  mystic  Avords. 

What ! — must  she  also  sufter?  That  fair, 
that  beautiful,  that  gentle  lady?  Is  there 
no  escape?  How  gladly,  were  it  possible, 
would  he  shield  her  with  his  very  life, 
Avould  he  bear  a  thousand  tortures  to  save 
Mary  one  ?  But  it  may  not  be,  and  our 
keenest  woes  are  often  caused  by  witness- 
ing the  sufferings  of  those  we  love.  Mary 
must  suffer,  for  she  has  a  work  to  do  which 
can  be  done  by  none  other;  she  is  a  mother, 
and  must  sufier  for  her  children,  to  prove 
the  fidness  of  her  love.  She  is  the  Mother 
of  God,  and  must  suffer  with  her  Son,  a 
suffering  proportioned  to  the  glory  which 
she  shall  also  share  with  Him. 

The  depth  of  Mary's  dolors  can  be  known 
only  to  herself,  suffered  only  by  herself. 
Let  us  not  intrude  in  this  awful  privilege 
of  the  Divine  Maternity ;  she  will  be  alone 
in  suftering,  that  she  may  share  with  all  in 
love.  And  even  now  must  the  prophetic 
words  begin  to  have  their  fulfilment:  even 
now  must  Joseph  behold  the  sorrows  of 
his  virgin-spoiise.  Jesus  must  fly  from 
the  land  of  His  birth  and  exile  Himself 
with  the  stranger,  and  Joseph  must  be  the 
first  to  make  the  painful  announcement  to 
jMai*y.  Again  the  angel  speaks,  and  again 
in  meek  silence  the  patriarch  obey*.  Again 
it  is,  in  his  cahn  and  holy  slumbers,  that 
he  hears  the  Divine  command ;  and  again 


AVK      MARIA. 


131 


he  rises  without  a  thought  of  self,  ftnd  ful- 
fils with  angelic  speed. 

O  great  Saint,  obtain  for  us  a  grace  like 
unto  thine,  by  the  tender  love  of  thy  pater- 
nal heart,  by  the  merciful  compassion  of 
thy  most  gentle  soul.  Dearest  of  saints, 
hear  the  cry  of  thy  children ;  we  are  thine, 
for  Jesus  bids  us  "  Go  to  Joseph  ;"  we  are 
thine,  for  thy  heart  tells  thee,  whilst  it 
pleads  for  us  even  before  we  ask  thy  help. 
Aid  us,  then;  oh  aid  us  with  thy  power- 
ful patronage,  by  thy  mighty  intercession. 
Jesus  ol)eyed  thee  whilst  on  earth,  and  He 
will  still  own  thy  power  in  heaven.  Ask 
that  we  may,  like  tliee,  ever  wait  with  calm 
patience  to  know  the  Divine  will  in  all  our 
trials  and  perplexities,  and  ever  obey  with 
prompt  unasking  love,  however  it  may  be 
manifested  to  us.  Ask  that  we  may  be  as 
willing  to  go  down  into  the  Egypt  of  suf- 
fering, as  to  return  into  the  >«azareth  of 
peace,  and  that  our  only  earthly  wish  and 
prayer  may  be  to  live  and  die  in  the  love 
of  the  sacred  hearts  of  Jesus,  Mary,  and 
Joseph. 

Btit  again  we  must  speak  of  sorrow. 
The  sojourn  in  Egypt  is  over ;  the  mission 
of  the  Child  Jesus  has  been  accomplished; 
the  land  of  idolatry  has  been  sanctified  by 
the  presence  of  God,  and  thousands  of 
saints  shall  one  day  dwell  there,  and  atone 
for  the  defilements  by  which  hitherto  it 
was  disgraced.  Again  the  toilsome  jour- 
ney is  undertaken,  but  with  new  sources 
of  pain  and  suflering.  Jesus  is  no  longer 
an  Infant  cradled  on  Mary's  breast ;  He  can 
walk  alone.  But  how  can  Ho  bear  this 
long,  this  weary  journey?  The  majesty 
of  God  is  shrouded  beneath  the  helpless- 
ness of  childhood,  and  He  will  not  allow 
His  Divinity  to  help  Him  unless  it  be  to 
increase  His  power  of  suffering.  Still  the 
journey  must  be  made,  and  Joseph  must 
arrange  all.  Oh,  sorrow  of  sorrows,  how 
will  he  carry  the  Child  Jesus  !  Oh,  wonder 
of  wonders,  behold  that  blessed  little  One 
condescending  to  be  soothed  and  com- 
forted by  His  fosterfather  amid  His  weary 
pains  !  Well  might  the  blessed  patriarch 
grow  old  with  his  burden  of  care  and  grief, 
and  almost  sink  beneath  this  accumulation 


of  Borrows,  which  none  but  God  could 
fully  understand.  But  sufferings  were  the 
joy  and  treasure  of  the  Saint,  dearer  to  him, 
as  he  has  revealed  to  one  of  his  devout 
clients,  dearer  to  him  even  than  the  priv- 
ilege of  his  guardianship  of  Jesus  and 
Mary ;  and  though  he  drank  the  chalice  of 
woe  to  the  last,  he  would  not  for  worlds 
have  lost  one  drop  of  its  bitterness.  Let  us 
fly  to  his  intercession;  let  us  plead  his 
merits:  he  will  obtain  grace  for  us  to 
boar  our  sufferings  as  we  ought,  and  to 
love  them  as  we  would  desire;  ho  will 
obtain  for  us  strength  in  our  temptations, 
light  in  our  perplexities.  His  paternal 
heart  is  full  of  tenderness;  let  us  try 
it  and  trust  it,  and  we  shall  never  be 
disappointed. 

And  now  the  silent  years  pass  on  un- 
checkered  by  any  event  recorded  in  Holy 
Writ  or  pious  tradition :  we  can  only 
know  that  Jesus  was  the  most  perfect,  the 
most  obedient  of  children;  Mary,  the  ten- 
derest  and  best  of  mothers ;  Joseph,  the 
kindest  and  most  saintly  of  fathers. 

The  mysteries  of  the  Holy  Childhood 
are  excluded  in  a  great  measure  from  our 
view,  as  is  the  life  of  Jesus  previous  to  His 
three  years  of  active  life.  But  one  event 
is  related  for  our  instruction,  and  it  is 
full  of  the  dolors  of  Mary  and  the  sorrows 
of  Joseph.  They  lose  for  a  time  the 
presence  of  their  blessed  Child,  nor  can 
they  rest  until  He  is  again  restored  to 
them.  Behold  the  himiility  of  Joseph;  it 
is  not  he  who  utters  the  tender  touching 
reproof,  if  we  may  so  call  it,  when  the 
wandering  One  is  again  found;  no,  the 
lowliness  of  the  great  patriarch  leads  him 
ever  to  seek  a  hidden  life,  unless  the  Di- 
vine will  requires  him  to  act;  to  be  silent 
unless  the  ministry  of  angels  tells  him 
that  he  must  speak.  Oh,  when  shall  we 
become  like  him?  when  shall  our  speech 
and  our  silence  be  only  for  God  ? 

That  devotion  to  St.  Joseph  is  peculiarly 
pleasing  to  our  Blessed  Lady  we  cannot 
for  a  moment  doubt;  in  fact  those  who 
have  been  most  devout  to  her  have  been 
insensibly  drawn  on  to  a  gre.it  devotion  to 
St.  Joseph,  and  this  in  a  way  for  which  they 


132 


AVE     MARIA 


could  scarcely  account;  it  has,  inrlecd, 
seemed  to  some  as  if  our  Lady  almost  re- 
fused their  requests,  tliat  they  might  apply 
to  St.  Joseph's  intercession.  In  temporal 
matters,  in  cases  of  special  temptations  or 
perplexities,  when  the  acquiring  of  an  in- 
terior spirit  has  been  the  object,  or  when 
persons  have  need  of  peculiar  direction, 
St.  Joseph  has  been  found  again  and  again 
to  afford    special   and   most  speedy  help. 

We  read  in  the  life  of  St.  Teresa  that  in 
one  of  her  visions  she  was  presented  by 
our  Immaculate  Mother  with  a  gem  of  in- 
estimable value,  as  a  reward  for  the  fervor 
with  which  she  endeavored  to  extend  de- 
votion to  her  spouse ;  and  to  St.  Gertrude 
she  showed  the  glory  of  his  throne  in 
heaven.  Many  instances  will  recur  to  the 
memory  in  which  Mary  has  herself  conde- 
scended to  desire  her  clients  to  take  the 
name  of  Joseph,  or  to  avail  themselves  of 
his  intercession.  But  there  is  no  proof 
so  conclusive  as  personal  experience ;  let 
us  make  the  Novena  of  his  Seven  Joys  and 
Sorrows  in  our  next  necessity,  and  the  re- 
sult will  be  more  convincing  than  all  the 
proofs  or  arguments  which  could  be  pro- 
duced in  any  other  way. 

The  religious  of  the  Franciscan  Order 
have  been  always  singularly  devoted  to 
St.  Joseph ;  and  it  was  through  their 
means  that  the  practice  of  honoring  his 
Seven  Joys  and  Seven  Sorrows  was  made 
known  to  the  faithful.  Two  fathers  of 
the  Order  were  wrecked  off  the  coast  of 
Planders;  the  ship  in  which  they  had  sailed 
sank,  and  with  it  300  of  the  passengers. 
The  friars  seized  a  plank,  and  clung  to  it 
as  their  only  hope  for  life ;  but  each  mo- 
ment the  peril  of  their  situation  increased, 
and  the  stormy  billows  threatened  to  en- 
gulf them  forever.  They  had  always  been 
singularly  devoted  to  St.  Joseph ;  they  in- 
voked him,  -and  he  did  not  fail  to  succor 
them  in  their  hour  of  need.  Scarcely  was 
their  prayer  ended  when  they  beheld  the 
holy  Patriarch,  who  acted  as  their  pilot, 
and  conducted  them  safely  to  the  shore. 
When  they  were  landed,  they  prostrated 
themselves  to  thank  their  deliverer.  The 
glorious  Saint  addressed  them;  spoke  to 


them  of  the  Seven  Joys  and  Seven  Sorrows 
of  his  mortal  life;  informed  them  how 
accepUible  tliis  devotion  would  be  to  him, 
and  assured  them  that  be  would  take  under 
his  protection  those  who  practised  it. 

What  stronger  motives  can  we  need  to 
encourage  us  to  spend  with  fervor  the 
month  of  March?  For  ecclesiastics,  for 
superiors  of  religious  orders  or  monas- 
teries, it  should  be  amonth  of  hope  and  joy. 

Volumes  might  be  tilled  with  examples 
of  the  power  of  this  great  Saint  and  the 
efficacy  of  his  intercession.  In  eveiy 
difficulty,  we  might  find  an  instance  of  his 
goodness  in  assisting  those  who  have  re- 
course to  him.  The  poor  and  the  artisan 
must  ever  have  a  special  claim  on  his 
patronage,  and  should  be  encouraged  to 
confide  with  peculiar  trust  in  his  assistance. 
His  life  was  like  theirs — one  of  constant 
labor  and  toil,  and  of  deep  poverty,  so 
deep  that  we  are  told  he  often  had  scarcely 
the  necessaries  of  life  for  Jesus  and  Mary. 

What  an  encouragement  and  support 
should  his  example  of  patient,  silent  toil 
be  to  those  whose  lot  is  cast  amidst  tem- 
poral care  and  suffering  I  Surely  he  will 
with  peculiar  love  and  tenderness  help 
and  pity  such  as  these.  He  will  protect 
the  weak  and  feeble,  he  will  assist  mourner 
and  sorrowful,  he  will  aid  all  in  their  ne- 
cessities, temporal  or  spiritual;  and  as  his 
toil  and  labor  was  all  for  Jesus,  so  will  he 
especially  assist  those  whose  lives  are, 
like  his,  devoted  to  Jesus,  either  in  caring 
for  the  souls  He  has  redeemed,  or  in  striv- 
ing to  promote  His  glory  by  their  own 
eanctification,  or  by  erecting  temples  in 
His  honor,  by  building  schools  for  His 
little  ones,  or  by  guiding  and  instructing 
those  who  are  called  to  leave  all  and  fol- 
low their  crucified  God  in  the  austere  si- 
lence of  the  cloister.  Religious  superiors 
should  especially  be  devout  to  St.  Joseph, 
and  encourage  this  devotion  in  their  sub- 
jects. The  example  of  St.  Teresa,  had  we 
no  other,  should  be  sufficient  to  animate 
and  inspire  them  to  this.  Who  will  assist 
them  in  their  many  and  most  tryins^  needs, 
temporal  or  spiritual,  so  effectually  as  the 
great  St.  Joseph.     We  may  say  that  Naz- 


AVE     MARIA 


133 


areth  was  the  first  reirgious  house,  and 
Joseph  the  first  relij^ious  superior;  how, 
then,  shoulcl  lie  not  be  the  model  and  the 
support  of  all  who  sueceetl  him?  At  Naz- 
areth was  practised  the  most  perfect  pov- 
erty, the  most  exact  obedience,  the  purest 
chastity. 

Religious  superiors,  think  of  Nazareth  : 
invoke  Joseph ;  and,  let  your  cares  and 
trials  be  what  they  may,  you  will  never  be 
utterly  cast  down.  Place  yourselves  and 
yoxir   subjects  under  his   special   charge. 

Practise  during  this  month  some  addi- 
tional devotion  to  him  before  his  allar,  at 
least  on  the  Wednesdays  and  Sundays, 
and  be  assured  you  will  soon  ex])erience 
the  beneficial  effects  of  your  piety.  He 
will  obtain  for  you,  and  those  under  your 
charge  that  truly  interior  spirit,  that  love 
of  prayer  and  recollection,  which  is  at 
once  the  happiness  and  the  duty  of  all 
who  are  specially  consecrated  to  God. 
He  will  assist  and  console  you  in  all  your 
difiiculties,  and  obt-ain  for  you  help  in 
your  temporal  necessities,  so  often  a  press- 
ing addition  to  the  heavy  care  of  a  supe- 
rior. 

But  we  must  all  die;  religious  or  secular, 
rich  or  poor,  saintly  or  sinful — the  end  is 
the  same  for  all.  Who  will  most  effectu- 
ally and  most  surely  help  us  at  the  hour  of 
death  ?  Happy,  thrice  hapj)y  shall  we  be, 
if,  with  the  name  of  Jesus  on  our  lips,  the 
love  of  Mary  in  our  hearts,  and  the  pro- 
tection of  Joseph  by  our  pillow,  we  breathe 
our  last  sigh.  Let  us  seek  by  great  and 
fervent  devotion  to  the  holy  Patriarch  to 
procure  through  his  intercession  the  grace 
of  a  happy  death.  That  it  is  his  particu- 
lar privilege  to  obtain  this  favor  for  those 
who  ask  it  of  him  we  cannot  doubt. 
Many  instances  might  be  related  to  prove 
this  fact ;  but  it  is  not  our  object  to  recite 
them  here.  Extraordinary  supernatural 
favors  are  not  granted  to  all,  but  ordinary 
graces  are  never  refused  to  those  who  sin- 
cerely ask  them.  We  may  not,  like  the 
blessed  Sister  Pudentia  Zaguoni  (a  Fran- 
ciscan nun)  see  St.  Joseph  at  that  hour  of 
dread,  and  receive  from  him  the  Infant 
Jesus  in  oar  arms,  but  we  shall  assuredly 


experience  his  power  and  protection  not 
the  less  effectually  because  it  may  be 
granted  only  in  a  spiritual  manner. 


The  Crown  of  Thorns. 


Day  after  day — 
With  suu  and  dew  alternate  on  the  spray 

Unconscious  earth 
The  trailing  bramble  nurtured  from  its  birth, 

That  it  might  be 
A  royal  diadem,  dear  Lord,  for  Thee. 

Spring's  tender  herb 
Brown  autumn  armed  with  many  a  cruel  barb, 

And  crueller  hate 
Sought  out  the  spiky  branch  its  lust  to  sate, 

Crowning  Thee  King 
With  gibe  and  mock  that  yet  more  deeply  sting. 

O  Royal  Crown! 
Oh  Face,  which  the  slow  drops  are  trickling  down ! 

IIow  dare  we  raise 
Our  eyes  on  Thy  pale  majesty  to  gaze  ? 

We  whose  fell  pride 
More  than  Thy  torturers'  taunts  Thy  pains  deride. 

O  King  divine ! 
Never  was  jewelled  crown  like  unto  Thine; 

Each  piercing  thorn 
Thy  precious  blood's  red  glistening  drops  adorn ; 

Thy  lowly  throne 
Shall  see  all  royalties  of  earth  cast  down. 

The  reedy  wand 
Thou  bearest  so  meekly  in  Thy  fettered  hand 

Thou  shalt  stretch  forth. 
The  sceptre  of  Thy  power  o'er  all  the  earth, 

And  every  nation 
Earth  knoweth  own  Thy  thorny  coronation. 

R.  V.  R. 


It  is  not  every  day  that  an  opportunity 
is  offered  to  make  great  gains,  but  every 
day  one  can  earn  or  save  a  penny  or  a  farth- 
ing ;  and  by  managing  the  small  profits, 
in  the  long  run  people  become  very  rich. 
We  would  lay  up  immense  spiritual  riches, 
and  a  large  treasure  in  heaven,  were  we 
diligent  in  employing  in  the  service  of  the 
holy  love  of  God  all  the  minute  opportuni- 
ties which  offer  themselves  at  every  mo- 
men  t.—S<.  F.  de  Sake. 


134: 


AVK     MARIA 


THE  FLEMiniNtiS. 


BY     MRS.     AXNA    II.    CORSEY. 

CHAPTER  VI. 
The  I>«n£r  Life  of  Wolfbbt  Flemming. 

Never  shone  the  sun  on  a  scene  more 
grant!  or  beautiful !  Covered  to  a  depth  of 
four  or  five  feet  with  snow,  whicli  in  some 
places  where  it  had  drifted  lapped  in  great 
folds  and  ridges,  in  graceful  curves  and 
furrows  of  unsullied  white,  the  mountains 
from  Ossipee  to  Belknap,  from  "White- 
face"  to  "Red  Hill;"  and  rising  beyond 
these,  the  chain  stretching  northward, 
whose  peaks  could  be  seen  like  jewelled 
crests  flashing  in  the  sunlight,  looked  as 
if  fashioned  by  giants  out  of  alabaster,  so 
transparent  and  aerial  did  they  appear 
through  the  crisp  dazzling  atmosphere,  so 
gracefully  did  the  long  blue  shadows  sweep 
down  their  sides  like  the  folds  of  royal 
robes  bordered  with  ennine,  so  softly 
waved  the  green  plumes  of  the  pines  clus- 
tered with  ice-gems;  while  the  beautiful 
Lake  with  its  romantic  indentations,  and 
isles  set  like  jewels  on  its  bosom,  lay 
gleaming  in  the  sunshine,  a  level  sea  of 
crystal,  its  murmuring  waters  holding  gay 
revel  beneath  their  roofing  of  ice. 

This  region  was  not  thickly  settled;  the 
noisy  clangor  of  modern  progress  had  not 
yet  disturbed  its  grand  solitudes;  the  fiery 
dragon  of  iron  and  steam,  with  his  jar, 
and  power,  and  discordant  roar,  had  not 
yet  sent  the  echoes  thrilling  back  with 
aflrighted  shrieks  to  their  romantic  caves, 
or  made  the  earth  tremble  and  quiver  as 
with  the  shock  of  the  last  trumpet;  no 
steamboat  had  then  fretted  the  fair  waters 
of  Winnipiseogce;  no,  forty  years  ago  if 
any  of  the  old  sachems  had  come  from  the 
"  setting  sun"  to  revisit  the  scenes  where 
they  had  roamed  at  will,  the  "monarchs 
of  all  they  surveyed,"  they  would  have 
seen  but  few  changes.  Famf  houses  with 
cultivated  fields  about  them,  a  small  ham- 


let or  two  near  the  borders  of  the  lake, 
brown  cottages  nestling  between  the 
slopes,  a  wind-mill  here  and  there,  and 
the  meeting-house  as  near  the  centre  of 
the  scattered  neighborhood  as  it  could  be 
located,  were  the  only  changes  the  swarthy 
ghosts  would  have  seen  had  they  come. 
So  insular  was  the  neighborhood,  that  a 
man  of  it  who  could  say  he  had  been  to 
Boston,  distant  a  little  over  a  hundred 
miles,  was  considered  a  great  traveller, 
whose  conversation  was  listened  to  with 
respect.  The  meeting-house  was  open 
every  Sabbath  day — by  a  sort  of  compro- 
mise these  sects  call  it  the  Sabbath  day, 
but  in  reality  keep  holy  the  day  estab- 
lished by  the  catholic  Church  to  celebrate 
the  resurrection  of  Christ,  httie  dream- 
ing that  they  are  indebted  to  her  authority 
and  tradition  for  it — and  crowded  with  a 
grave  and  decorous  assemblage  of  old, 
middle-aged  and  young,  who  met  to  hear 
the  words  of  their  well-meaning  teacher, 
an  old  man  who  had  been  nursed  in  the 
early  cradle  of  puritan  ism  and  who  laid 
down  the  spiritual  law  as  he  understood 
it,  disintegrating  the  Scriptures  blindly 
and  at  will  Avith  much  unction,  and  had 
devoted  the  labors  of  his  life  to  building 
upon  a  sandy  foundation,  happy  in  the  con- 
ceit that  it  was  rock  of  a  safe  but  soft 
kind.  With  the  Bible  in  one  hand  and 
the  "Articles  of  the  Westminster  Assem- 
bly" in  the  other.  Father  Ray — as  he  was 
called — ^preached  total  depravity,  and  re- 
generation without  baptism,  and  justifica- 
tion by  faith  without  works,  until  the  con- 
verted ones  felt  all  the  stern  dignity  of 
the  elect,  and  the  unconverted  believed  as 
they  were  taught — some  of  them  with  an 
amazed  sort  of  wonder  that  a  merciful  God 
should  allow  His  creatures,  for  whose  sal- 
vation His  own  Son  had  died,  to  be  born 
and  live  under  such  a  wrathful  ban — that 
they  were  children  of  perdition  and  bond 
slaves  of  the  devil ;  and  thus  believing, 
much  of  their  youth  was  spent  in  the 
shadow  of  severe  restraints;  the  innocent 
pleasures  of  life  were  condemned  by  the 
harsh  creed  of  their  fathers  as  sins  not  to 
be  forgiven,  and  as  they  could  not  all  of 


AVE     MARIA 


135 


tbem  get  up  the  Htatc  of  mind  which  they 
called  cunvcrsion,  many  of  thuin  becanio 
indilferent — so  iiiditFerent  that  religion  be- 
came an  unattainable  myth  to  their  aspira- 
tions; and  \rhen  those  who  thought  much 
of  such  matters  got  to  measuring  the  mo- 
rality and  purity  of  their  own  lives  with 
the  christian  character  of  the  "brethren," 
they  found  so  little  difference  that  the  bal- 
ance sometimes  seemed  in  their  own  favor, 
which  of  course  scandalized  them  and  made 
them  suspect  that  religion  was  not,aftci;all, 
the  holy  and  divine  power  they  had  thought 
it  to  be.  But  on  the  "Sabbath"  there 
they  all  assembled,  the  elect  and  the  un- 
regenerate  together,  looking  as  if  they 
had  all  taken  a  dose  of  the  waters  of  Marah 
and  didn't  care  to  have  them  sweetened  ; 
and  old  Father  Ray  would  wind  up  the 
saints  with  his  "  pure  doctrine "  until 
they  felt  like  marching  into  the  lightnings 
of  Mount  Sinai,  while  the  sinners — those 
who  cared — looked  as  if  they  were  going 
to  be  hanged.  Then  it  was  all  over  until 
the  next  meeting ; — and  they  went  their 
ways — the  members  carrying  nothing  with 
them  to  sanctify  and  SM'ceten  the  routine 
and  toils  of  daily  life;  their  souls  bristled 
with  the  thorns  of  the  Law,  upon  which 
they  hung  their  interpretations  of  the 
Holy  Scriptures  in  good  I'aitli ;  there  was 
nothing  done  for  the  sake  of  Ilim  who 
preached  the  sermon  on  the  Mount,  be- 
cause they  believed  He  had  done  all,  and 
anything  that  they  might  do  would  be 
idle  works  of  supererogation ;  so  they 
went  on  reading  the  Bible,  and  thinking 
of  "Free  Grace"  and  "Predestination," 
and  symbolizing  the  teacliings  of  Christ, 
and  driving  sharp  bargains  with  each 
other  between  whiles,  never  losing  sight 
of  their  worldly  affairs,  until  another  Sab- 
bath rolled  round. 

Mrs.  Flemming  was  one  of  the  stern 
disciples  of  Father  Ray  ;  while  her  hus- 
band, although  a  just  man  and  living  a 
godly  life  before  the  world  and  his  breth- 
ren, who  held  him  in  high  esteem,  some- 
times differed  from  him, — and  in  their 
private  conversations  startled  the  old  min- 
ister by  broaching  opinions  which  he  de- 


nounced as  dangerous  and  devilish  errors. 
The  sons  and  daughters  of  the  house  were 
on  the  "  seat  of  the  sinner;"  they  had  not 
professed  that  change  known  amoirg  their 
jieople  as  "conversion,"  and  were  conse- 
quently the  objects  of  many  stern  reproofs 
and  warnings  from  the  old  minister. 

On  this  bright  and  lovely  day,  when 
amidst  the  pearly  lights  resting  on  the 
glistening  peaks  and  sharp  edges  of  the 
snow-covered  ridges,  one  might  almost 
have  imagined  himself  up  among  the  o2)al- 
like  cirri  of  a  summer  sky,  the  old  brown 
mare  of  the  minister  was  seen  bearing 
down  towards  the  Flemming  homestead. 
Sitting  erect  and  clothed  in  a  severe  suit 
of  black,  his  black  hat  pulled  down  over 
his  ears,  his  coat  collar  pulled  up  to  them, 
he  and  his  old  mare  would  have  looked 
like  a  sprawling  blot  on  the  fair  face  of 
nature  but  that  by  some  chance  he  had 
tied  a  great  red  comforter  around  his  neck, 
the  ends  of  which  streamed  over  his  shoul- 
ders, giving  to  the  cold  white  foreground 
of  the  landscape  just  the  little  dash  of 
scarlet  that  it  needed.  Riding  with  him 
was  a  young  man  wrapped  in  furs,  whose 
handsome,  intelligent  face  looked  brightly 
out  from  under  his  cap  of  Russian  sable, 
from  which  e8caj)ed  a  curling  fringe  of 
yellow  hair.  This  was  Father  Ray's  grand- 
son and  ward,  who  having  graduated  at 
Yale  was  studying  law  in  Boston.  He 
had  come  up  to  the  "White  Mountain  coun- 
try to  spend  a  few  days  with  his  grand- 
father— uncomfortable  days,  full  of  ser- 
mon and  lecture,  admonition  and  prayer, 
which  the  young  scapegrace,  who  had 
adopted  while  absent  the  exceedingly 
comfortable  doctrines  of  "universal  salva- 
tion," listened  to  with  suppressed  yawns — 
and  was  now  riding  over  with  him  to  visit 
his  old  friends,  the  Flemmings,  and  assure 
himself  that  Eva  Flemming  was  unchanged ; 
not  that  they  were  lovers,  but  that  he 
hoped  some  day  to  win  her  if  the  world 
went  well  with  him.  The  young  folks 
were  all  at  home,  and  he  received  a  warm 
greeting;  their  delight  on  seeing  their  old 
playmate  taking  much  of  the  edge  off  the 
reproving  salutations  of  the  minister,  whom 


136 


AVB      MARIA. 


Mrs.  Flemming  took  immediate  charge  of, 
helping  him  off  with  his  wraps  and  giving 
him  a  comfortable  seat  near  the  tire,  after 
which  she  went  to  the  "  work-room "  to 
tell  her  husband  he  was  there ;  then  hur- 
ried on  to  send  their  man-of-all-work  in  to 
kindle  a  great  fire  in  the  "  best  room,"  for 
she  knew  that  the  two  always  liked  to 
have  a  private  talk  together ;  after  which 
she  plunged  into  licr  store-room  to  con- 
sider the  possibilities  of  a  feast ;  while 
she  kept  thinking  and  could  not  get  it 
out  of  her  head  "  what  a  nice  match 
George  Merill  would  be  for  Eva."  The 
old  minister  was  glad  to  go  away  with 
Elder  Flemming  to  the  quiet  well-warmed 
parlor  in  the  new  part  of  the  house ;  for 
the  young  people,  although  they  felt  the 
restraint  of  his  presence,  and  with  long 
faces  tried  their  best  to  be  serious, 
George  Merill,  full  of  delight  at  seeing 
them  all  again  in  the  beautiful  quaint  old 
room,  broke  out  in  such  gushes  of  talk 
and  fun  that  for  the  life  of  them  they 
could  not  keep  it  up,  and  laughed  and 
talked  with  the  most  unprecedented  irrev- 
erence; while  father  Ray  sat  bolt  upright, 
twirling  his  thumbs  over  each  other  and 
gazing  with  a  displeased  countenance  into 
the  fire  as  if  he  were  settling  their  final 
doom.  So  he  was  as  much  relieved  to  go 
out  from  among  them  as  they  were  at  his 
going.  When  they  were  comfortably 
seated,  each  in  a  well-cushioned  arm- 
chair. Father  Ray  said : 

"  George  Merill  came  down  with  me. 
He's  going  away  in  a  day  or  two,  and 
wanted  to  see  the  young  people." 

"  George  is  a  very  fine  fellow.  I  am 
very  glad  he  came !"  said  the  Elder  heartily. 

"  George  is  a  thorn  in  my  flesh,  a  re- 
proach to  me  and  my  ministry";  he  has  got 
his  head  full  of  strange  notions,  and  dis- 
putes with  me  on  the  affairs  of  his  salva- 
tion. My  head  is  bowed  down  with  shame 
that  he  is  gone  so  far  astray,  for  he  is  the 
child  of  many  prayers,"  said  Father  Ray 
sternly. 

"Whatarehis  notions?"  asked  the  Elder. 

"Universal  salvation.  He  argues  that 
our  Saviour  died  for  all,  and  that  all  men 


will  be  saved:  and  to  fill  the  climax  of  his 
folly  he  has  the  audacity  to  say  he  has 
Scripture  authority  for  it.  He  has  read 
the  Bible  since  he  could  read  at  all;  in 
season,  and  out  of  season,  I  have  made 
him  read  it ;  he  is  familiar  with  it,  and 
now  wrests  it  to  his  own  perdition !"  cried 
the  old  man  with  indignation. 

"  I  have  come  to  think,"  said  Flemming 
in  his  slow  level  tones,  "  that  there  are 
many  things  in  the  sacred  writings  to  con- 
fuse the  mind  of  the  inexperienced,  and  it 
has  become  a  subject  of  grave  import  to 
me  why  so  few  of  our  children  walk  in 
the  way  of  our  fathers.  There  seems  to 
be  something  wanting  to  hold  them  from 
running  here  and  there  after  strange 
doctrines.  George  is  only  one  of  many, 
and  it  was  so  even  in  my  yonng  days." 
Father  Ray  placed  his  hands  upon  his 
knees,  straightened  himself  up,  and  looked 
with  surprised  and  severe  aspect  at  the 
Elder,  who  met  it  calmly  and  continued : 
"  You  know  that  all  who  differ  from  us 
show  Scripture  to  authorize  their  opinions, 
even  when  their  doctrines  are  as  much 
opposed  to  each  other,  and  as  far  asunder 
as  the  east  is  from  the  west." 

"  I  deny  their  right  to  do  so,"  replied 
the  minister  in  a  sternly  authoritative  tone. 
"  It  is  because  of  the  ungodly  and  carnal 
imaginations  of  such  as  wrest  the  Scrip- 
tures to  their  OAvn  destruction,  that  these 
differences  arise ;  that  the  young  and  un- 
regenerate  follow  after  the  idols  of  this 
world,  and  trample  in  the  dust  all  orthodox 
meaning  and  discipline.  But  when  a  man 
like  yourself  expresses  a  doubt,  a  man 
raised  on  the  very  *milk  of  the  word,' 
whose  head  is  already  whitening  in  the 
8er\'ice  of  the  Lord — then,  Wolfert  Flem- 
ming, I  am  filled  with  fearful  misgivings 
as  to  his  state." 

"  That  is  exactly  the  way  I  feel  about 
myself,  until  sometimes  the  light  becomes 
so  obscure  that  I  almost  despair;  in  fact, 
I  have  been  wishing  for  some  time  past  to 
lay  before  you,  as  they  are  laid  bare  before 
God,  some  of  the  perplexities  wluch  have 
arisen  in  my  mind  from  reading  the  Scrip- 
tures," said  Flemming. 


AVE     MARIA. 


137 


"  I  am  ready  to  listen. '  I  can  tell  you 

nothing  on  doctrinal  points  that  you  do 
not  already  know  as  well  as  I ;  but  we  will 
take  counsel  together,  Wolfert,  and  if  the 
spiritual  experience  of  a  man  much  older 
than  yourself  will  be  any  help  to  you,  it 
is  at  your  service." 

Flemraing  got  up  and  walked  to  and  fro 
the  room  two  or  three  times  his  head 
bowed  in  deep  thought,  then  resumed  his 
seat  and  began  :  "  I  sometimes  think  that 
these  thoughts  are  temptations,  and  put 
them  away  from  me,  until  T  remember  that 
they  are  the  sayings  and  express  commands 
of  Him  whom  I  believe  to  be  the  very  Son 
of  God,  equal  in  all  things  unto  Him:  in 
whom  and  through  whom  alone  we  trust 
for  salvation :  then  I  go  over  the  same 
ground  again,  and  apply  text  after  text  to 
the  articles  of  belief  in  which  I  was  raised, 
and  which,  on  my  conversion,  I  publicly 
professed  and  accepted,  and  lo  you  !  some 
of  them  seem  to  crumble  away  at  the  test. 
I  should  like  to  forget  all — to  bury  these 
doubts  in  oblivion,  and  be  as  I  was  at  first; 
but  how  can  I,  seeing  that  I  believe  Jesus 
Christ  to  be  the  Eternal  Truth,  disbelieve 
His  word?" 

"  No  christian  doubts  His  word,"  said 
the  minister.  "If  you  receive  it  in  a 
limited  sense,  or  go  beyond  its  meaning, 
there  is  your  condemnation.  But  I  do  not 
easily  see  the  drift  of  your  words." 

"Well,"  continued  the  Elder  in  his 
grave  quiet  way,  "  I  can  explain  what  I 
mean — God  help  me — on  at  least  one  point. 
We  deny  that  regeneration  takes  place  in 
baptism." 

"  Certainly." 

"  But  when  Nicoderaus  asked  Christ 
*  How  can  a  man  be  born  again  ?'  He — the 
Eternal  Truth — replied:  'Except  a  man 
be  born  of  water  and  of  the  spirit,  he  can- 
not enter  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  ;'  and 
yet  we  refuse  baptism  to  an  adult,  until  he 
is  first  born  of  the  spirit,  or  converted.  It 
is  true  that  we  baptize  infants,  but  how? 
We  give  it  to  them  as  a  symbol,  a  pledge 
or  testimony  that  we  will  do  our  best  as 
sponsors  to  raise  them  christians;  for  the 
child,    we   deny   that   it  has   a  saving,  a 


cleansing  significance  or  power,  even  when 
we  know  that  He  said  borti  of  trater.^* 

"  Christ  spoke  figurativejy,"  said  Father 
Ray  in  positive  tones ;  "  for  how  can  a 
man  be  born  of  water?  He  meant  pimply 
a  dedication  of  themselves  by  baptism  to 
His  service,  as  an  outward  sign  that  they 
believed  and  hoped  in  Him :  but  the  new 
birth  of  the  spirit  is  the  essential  thing ! 
How  can  water  wash  the  total  depravity 
of  man's  nature  away?     Absurd!" 

"  I  do  not  know  Aow,"  said  Flemming, 
with  a  troubled  expression  in  his  eyes.  "  I 
can  only  set  what  we  are  taught  against 
what  Hk  said,  and  see  the  discrepancy ! 
Not  only  what  His  own  words  declare,  but 
what  His  apostles  and  disciples  preached 
and  insisted  on.  St.  Paul  calls  baptism 
the  '  laver  of  regeneration,  and  renovation 
of  the  Holy  Ghost.'  He  baptized  *  whole 
families,'  we  are  told,  among  whom  were 
doubtless  little  children  and  infants;  chil- 
dren must  therefore  be  capable  of  this  re- 
generation by  water,  since  Christ  said 
'  Sufter  little  children  to  come  unto  Me,  for 
of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  Heaven;'  but 
how,  since  He  declares  it,  shall  even  these 
enter  without  being  'born  of  water';  and 
what  becomes  of  total  depravity,  which  we 
believe  can  only  be  eradicated  by  justifica- 
tion by  faith?  Throughout  the  New  Test- 
ament baptism  is  insisted  on  as  an  essen- 
tial and  not  a  figurative  thing.  St.  Paul 
says :  '  Arise  and  be  baptized  every  one  of 
you,  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ,  for  the 
remission  of  your  sins,  and  you  shall  re- 
ceive the  gifts  of  the  Holy  Ghost.''  '  Arise,' 
said  Ananias  to  Paul,  'and  wash  away  thy 
sin.'  Paul  tells  us  again  that  '  Christ 
loved  the  Church,  and  gave  Himself  for  it, 
that  He  might  sanctify  it,  cleansing  it  by 
the  laver  of  water  in  the  word  of  Life.' 
This,  and  much  else,  disturbs  me;  but 
while  we  are  thanking  God  that  we  are  not 
as  other  men,  we  stand  blind  and  naked 
before  Him." 

"  Wolfert,  Wolfert  Flemming !  that  old 
Bible  of  yours,  in  which  you  take  such 
pride,  was  printed  too  near  the  ancient 
popish  days  not  to  have  some  corruptions 
in  the  text.     I  have  always  misdoubted  it, 


138 


AVE     MARIA. 


and  now  see  with  good  reason,"  said  the 
minister  earnestly.  "Put  it  away, — into 
the  fire,  or  anywhere, — so  that  you  read  it 
no  more;  and  get  one  of  those  translated 
in  more  enlightened  days." 

"No  I"  said  the  Elder,  Avhile  a  flush 
deepened  on  his  face;  "  I  stick  to  my  old 
Bible.  It  is  an  early  Lutheran  edition; 
and  what  is  so  near  its  source  it  is  reason- 
able to  think  ought  to  be  the  purest.  As 
the  title-page  tells  me :  '  it  was  revised  and 
approved  by  the  great  '  Reformer '  him- 
self.'" 

"  Beware  then,  Wolfert  Flemming,  how 
you  turn  the  word  of  God  to  your  own  de- 
struction. The  exercises  of  your  mind  are 
not  uncommon.  Doubts  and  temptations 
are  the  ordeal  by  which  the  soul — if  faith- 
ful and  steadfast — reaches  sanctification. 
You  know  what  orthodox  doctrine  in  its 
purity  means,  and  understand  experiment- 
ally what  justification  by  faith  is.  I  can- 
not admonish  you  on  these  points,  but  I 
do  adjure  you  in  the  most  solemn  manner 
to  have  recourse  to  prayer;  that  is  the 
only  weapon  by  which  you  can  victoriously 
combat  these  doubts.  Pray  withoxit  ceas- 
ing, and  may  He  in  whom  we  both  hope 
deliver  you  from  your  perplexities,"  said 
Father  Ray  with  an  almost  imperceptible 
quaver  in  his  harsh  voice. 

[to  be  continued.] 


The  Power  of  the  Blessed  Tirgin. 

St.  Vincent's  Orphan  Asylum, 
January  15,  1869. 

Very  Rev.  Father  Sorin  : 

Devotion  and  gratitude  of  the  writer 
prompt  her  to  raise  her  voice  in  praise  and 
love  of  the  ever  Blessed  and  Immaculate 
Mary.  An  incident  is  recorded,  which 
took  place  in  this  house  on  the  morning  of 
the  memorable  day,  8th  of  December,  1854. 

A  little  child  called  Marie,  aged  three 
years,  had  been  lying  dangerously  ill  of 
brain  fever  for  several  days.  On  the  morn- 
ing of  the  seventh,  indications  of  approach- 


ing death  were  visible.  The  physician 
I)ronounced  the  case  hopeless.  All  re- 
signed her  to  her  fate ;  her  measure  was 
taken,  the  shroud  and  coffin  got  in  readiness. 
Evening  came  on,  she  still  lingered  ;  re- 
tiring, all  took  a  tender  farewell  of  the 
loved  little  suft'erer.  Four  o'clock  in  the 
morning  found  little  Marie  still  with  us, 
with  dimmed  eyes,  shrunken  features,  and 
and  scarcely  perceptible  breath.  Gazing 
upon  her,  something  seemed  to  whisper: 
"  Our  Blessed  Mother  wishes  to  try  your 
faith  in  her  Immaculate  Conception :  ask 
her  cure."  Accordingly,  after  Mass,  all  the 
orphans  proceeded  in  procession  from  the 
chapel,  bearing  the  statue  of  the  Blessed 
Virgin,  singing  her  Litany,  and  entered 
the  apartment  of  the  little  dying  one. 
After  the  singing,  the  good  priest  present 
blessed  a  little  miraculous  medal,  put  it  on 
her,  repeating  the  invocation :  "  O  Mary, 
conceived  without  sin,  pray  for  us  who 
have  recourse  to  thee,"  all  present  re- 
sponding. The  children  ranged  around 
her  couch  intoned  a  hymn  in  honor  of  the 
Immaculate  Mother,  during  which  little 
Marie  opened  her  eyes,  and  turned  her  bead 
as  if  to  listen.  A  few  minutes  more,  smil- 
ing, she  looked  around  at  her  companions. 
Now,  bursts  of  joy  from  all  parts.  Several 
persons,  who  had  seen  her  in  an  expiring 
state  the  day  before,  came  to  witness  what 
they  would  not  credit.  Praise  forever  the 
Immaculate  Conception  of  the  Most  Holy 
Virgin.  Children  shall  rise  up  and  call 
her  Blessed. 

Another  incident,  of  one  dwelling  a  few 
miles  from  this  place,  a  young  person 
about  sixteen,  a  member  of  the  Associ- 
ation of  the  Children  of  Mary.  An  extract 
from  a  letter  to  one  of  her  teachers  says : 
"  I  had  gone  with  my  father,  mother,  broth- 
er, sister-in-law  and  little  nephew  for  the 
benefit  of  our  health,  to  pass  Ihe  summer 
months  at  that  delightful  place  "Last  Is- 
land," situate  in  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  We 
had  been  there  a  ievr  weeks,  when  on  Sun- 
day morning,  ninth  of  August,  the  wind 
commenced  blowing  fearfully,  increasing 
as  night  approached,  when  the  storm  be- 
came terrific.      The  chimney  fell  in;   the 


AVE     MARIA. 


139 


shutters  wereblown  off.  Imaj^inc  the  scene. 
We  lightetl  a  blessed  c  and  lo;  my  pious  moth- 
er prayed  tervently,  all  uuitint;  with  her. 
In  a  short  time  the  waves  of  the  sea  broke 
over  the  house  in  which  we  were,  break- 
ing it  to  pieees,  leaving  us  on  the  floor, 
which  in  a  few  more  minutes  was  swept 
out  to  sea :  a  terrible  crash — the  floor  broke 
in  two  parts,  and  we  parted.  Oh  !  oh  !  I 
saw  thiui  no  more. 

"The  planks  soon  went  from  under  me  ; 
I  was  left  struggling  in  the  sea.  Black 
spots  were  around  me ;  I  caught  at  them ; 
they  were  logs,  but  so  slippery  I  could 
not  hold  on.  At  length,  two  coming  near  I 
put  an  arm  over  each,  which  supported  me 
until  I  got  a  good  hold  of  one.  After  this,  I 
lostconsciousness.  The  recollection  makes 
me  shudder:  alone,  senseless,  lying  on  a 
log  in  the  sea,  in  midnight  darkness.  But 
danger  and  darkness  are  nought  to  Her 
who  has  promised  special  protection  to  her 
children.  The  child  of  Mary  alone  was 
saved  ! 

"  I  revived  and  found  myself  on  the  beach, 
but  so  bruised  I  could  not  stir  a  limb. 
Benevolent  persons  came  in  search  of  lost 
bodies;  one  approached  me  and  bore  me  to 
a  place  of  safety.  After  a  few  days,  I,  the 
lone  one,  was  conducted  by  strangers  to  my 
desolate  home.  But  the  love  and  mercies 
of  Mary  shall  ever  dwell  with  me.  When 
I  forget  her  I  will  have  to  forget  my  being. 
Magnificat  anima  nieay 

I  will  add  another  well  authenticated 
fact  portraying  the  special  protection  of 
our  Blessed  Mother  over  those  who  honor 
her,  related  to  us  by  a  pious  young  man  of 
this  place.  He  with  twelve  others  of  this 
vicinity  were  in  a  regiment  on  Red  River 
during  a  part  of  the  war;  being  stationed 
there  for  some  time,  they  proposed  a  union 
of  prayer,  and  to  that  effect  they  repeated 
together  every  evening  a  part  of  the  Rosary. 
One  of  the  band  of  thirteen,  after  a  time 
became  wearied  and  slid  off.  Some  time 
after,  all  the  men  were  ordered  on  board  a 
steamer  for  other  parts.  Before  .reaching 
their  destination,  the  boat  struck  a  snag 
and  was  fast  tilling  up  with  water  before 
another  could  come  to  their  rescue.     Num- 


bers  threw  themselves   overboftrd,  conse- 
quently many  were  drowned. 

The  young  man  who  relates  the  fact,  re- 
mained on  the  deck  until  the  steamer  came 
to  their  relief;  not  seeing  his  brother,  nor 
any  of  the  band  that  formed  their  Sodality, 
he  called  with  a  loud  voice  each  one  by 
name.  No  one  answered.  lie  sorrowfully 
concluded  all  had  thrown  themselves  over- 
board and  were  lost.  Going  ashore,  be 
resolved  to  remain  and  watch  for  the  bod- 
ies as  they  would  rise  to  the  suriaoe,  to 
bury  them. 

Walking  along,  mind  occupied  with  the 
tragical  event,  he  met  one  of  his  band,  who 
likewise  had  a  brother;  they  rushed  into 
each  others  arms,  both  bewailing  a  lost 
brother.  Continuing  their  sad  way,  after 
a  few  steps  they  met  one  by  one,  to  their 
unspeakable  delight,  the  missing  ones. 
The  band  of  twelve  were  there.  The  thir- 
teenth, the  renegade,  alone  had  perished. 
All  proclaimed  and  gratefully  acknowl- 
edged the  special  protection  of  her  who  is 
never  invoked  in  vain,  renewing  theirprom- 
ises  of  fidelity. 

The  brother  of  the  narrator  of  the  fact  re- 
lated that  after  casting  himself  into  the 
water  he  had  swum,  until  nearly  reaching 
the  shore  he  became  entangled  among  a 
number  of  bodies  struggling  in  the  water; 
disengaging  himself,  he  turned  to  retrace 
his  course  to  the  opposite  shore.  Appar- 
ently about  half  way,  he  became  exhausted 
and  felt  himself  sinking ;  he  turned  on  his 
back  to  float,  when  the  scapular  on  his 
bosom,  borne  by  the  water,  floated  before 
his  eyes ;  at  this  sight  he  immediately 
cried  out:  "Blessed  Mother  of  God,  save 
me."  He  no  sooner  uttered  these  words 
than  his  head  touched  the  bank;  turning, 
he  grasped  hold  of  the  branches  and  roots 
and  was  a  saved  man.  All  through  her 
who  ever  protects  her  faithful  servants. 

Mabt. 


A  child,  speaking  of  his  home  to  a  friend, 
wasasked:  "Where  is  your  home?"  Look- 
ing with  loving  eyes  at  his  mother,  he  re- 
plied :  "  Where  mother  is." 


140 


AVE      MARIA. 


M  W^ti&  ^ttlh. 


Sopro. 
Soto. 


Andante. 

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AVE     MARIA. 


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Hynn  for  a  LentfD  Vlfll. 


REV.   XAVIEB  D.   M  LBOD. 

Watch  to-night  with  peuaucu,  vigil,  fiist  and  weep- 
ing; 

Pray  for  all  the  sleeping;  for  the  sinner  pray. 
Let  not  sloth  o'ercomu  us  lest  He  sees  us  slumber 

When  He  comes  to  number  His  elect  array. 

Foolish  virgins  perished,  slothful  and  belated, 
For  while  yet  they  waited,  lo,  the  Bridegroom 
came. 
Ob,  may  none  be  with  us  w^ho  the  vigil  feareth. 
Lest  when  Christ  appeareth  he  be  struck  with 
shame. 

Should  your  tepid  spirit  tire  of  supplication. 
Let  your  meditation  be  liow  Jesus  prayed; 

Should  you  grow  impatient  of  the  midnight  dreary, 
Chant  the  Miserere — that  will  give  you  aid. 

Think  of  all  His  anguish  through  the  crucifixion, 
When  His  benediction  on  the  good  thief  fell. 

Think  how  great  the  fondness  that  such  pangs 
could  smother. 
Till  unto  His  Mother  He  had  said  farewell. 

Pardon  ns,  Jesus ! 
Oh,  if  in  that  awful  Passion  in  the  Garden, 

Jesus,  for  our  pardon,  felt  all  sorrow's  power. 
If  He  felt  on  Calvary  even  His  God  forsaking. 

Cannot  we,  awaking,  watch  with  lUm  one  hour  ? 

Ronse  thee  from  thy  visions,  O  thou  idle  dreamer. 
Turn  to  our  llcdeemer  with  an  earnest  faith, 

And  come  Thou  to  help  us,  Priest  and  King  and 
Pastor, 
Save  us.  Holy  Master,  from  the  sleep  of  death. 


Imposing  Ceremony — The  Consecba- 
TioN  OF  A  Catholic  Hisiior. — Tlie  Right 
Rev.  Ignatius  Mrak  was  consecrated  Bishop 
of  Marquette,  at  the  cathedral  on  Plum 
street,  yesterday  moruiiig,  with  all  the 
poiup  and  ceremony  pertiiiuing  to  the  cath- 
olic Church. 

The  newly  elected  bishop  is  a  native  of 
Carmiulia.  He  is  now  nearly  sixty  years  of 
age,  and  has  for  twenty-four  years  labored 
in  the  cause  of  Christianity,  as  a  missionary 
in  the  Diocese  of  Detroit  and  Marquette. 
He  is  a  man  of  profound  learning  and  lin- 
guistic  attainments,  highly  respected  l>y 


his  brethren  in  the  Church,  and  fully  com- 
petent to  resume  the  work  in  his  diocese 
where  his  lamented  predecessor  left  off. 
His  ordination,  yesterday,  was  an  event  of 
more  than  ordinary  interest  to  Roman  Cath- 
olics in  this  city,  and  at  the  hour  designated 
I'or  the  commencement  of  the  exccrcises, 
the  cathedral  was  filled  to  its  utmost  capa- 
city by  an  immense  throng  of  people,  order- 
ly and  quiet,  but  intensely  anxious  for  the 
ceremonies  to  begin. — Exchange. 

Ordination. — The  ordination  of  Messrs. 
Thomas  Losana  and  Santiago  Silva,  to 
be  priests  in  the  catholic  Church,  took 
place  in  the  catholic  church  of  this  city 
at  the  7^  o'clock  Mass,  on  Sunday  last. 
The  ceremony  was  august,  impressive, 
and  not  to  be  forgotten  by  its  partici- 
pants; the  manner  of  the  Most  Rev. 
Bishop  Ramirez,  particularly  at  that  part 
of  the  ceremony  where  he  administered 
the  charge  to  the  candidates,  was  of  one 
who  spake  as  if  he  had  authority.  There 
were  in  the  sanctuary  witli  tlte  Bishop, 
several  of  the  Oblate  Fathers  and  the  Rev. 
S.  Ballesteros  curate  of  Matamoras. — 
Brownsville  Sentinel,  Jan.  22. 

During  his  visitation,  from  January  the 
24th  to  February  the  7th,  a  period  of  four- 
teen days,  the  Right  Rev.  Dr.  O'Hara,  Bish- 
op ofScranton,  conjirmed  1162  candidates. 
The  good  Bishop,  at  all  the  points  visited 
found  crowds  awaiting  to  welcome  him  and 
to  receive  his  blessing. 

Died,  on  Tuesday  morning,  the  9th  inst., 
at  half-past  four  o'clock,  at  the  episcopal 
residence  in  Covington,  Ky.,  after  a  pro- 
tracted illness,  in  the  66th  year  of  his  age, 
Very  Rev.  T.  R.  Butler,  V.  G.  The  funer- 
al took  place  on  Thursday,  11th  inst., 
from   St.  Mary*8  Cathederal,   Covington. 

May  he  rest  in  peace. 

Died. — On  the  2d  of  February,  at  Notre 
Dame,  Ind.,  Bro.  Stephen,  a  professed 
member  of  the  Congregation  of  Holy  Cross. 

On  the  26th  of  December,  in  Cincinnati, 
Brother  Amandus,  a  novice  of  the  same 
Order. 

Many  of  the  old  students  of  Xotre  Dame, 


14:2 


AVE     MARIA 


and  all  the  friends  of  the  institution  who 
have  visited  Notre  Dame  within  the  last 
quarter  of  a  century,  will  hear  with  sorrow 
the  announcement  of  Bro.  Stephen's  death, 
and  utter  a  fervent  prayer  for  the  repose 
of  his  soul. 
Jiequiescant  i?ipace. 


Reception  of  Novices  at  St.  Mary's 
Convent,  Websteu  Avenue,  Pittsburgh, 
Pa. — On  Monday  evening,  the  Rt.  Rev. 
Bishop  gave  the  habit  and  white  veil  of 
the  Order  of  Mercy  to  Miss  Lizzie  Boore 
(Sister  M.  Philoinena),  to  Miss  Mary  Gar- 
ahan  (Sister  M.  Clotilda),  and  to  Miss 
Sarah  Keenan  (Sister  M.  Purification). 


HILDREN'S 


EPARTMENT. 


THE  BAPTISMAL  ROBE. 


A  Legend. 

St.  Joseph  was  once  invited  to  become 
the  baptismal  patron  of  a  new-born  babe. 
The  Saint  gladly  consented,  and  the  event- 
ful day  having  arrived,  he  brought  the 
child,  on  the  part  of  God,  a  beautiful  white 
robe,  with  which  he  clothed  him  as  soon  as 
the  blessed  waters  of  the  font  had  trickled 
down  his  baby  brow. 

This  robe  was  composed  of  a  light  and 
flexible  fabric,  similar  to  the  fleecy  web 
sonietimes  seen  floating  on  the  air  in  our 
beautiful  summer  evenings,  and  which  is 
called  gossamer;  but  it  possessed,  at  the 
same  time,  the  solidity  and  brilliancy  of 
the  diamond. 

The  infant  in  this  wondrous  robe  looked 
like  a  little  angel,  to  the  admiration  and 
astonishment  of  its  parents,  sponsors,  nurse 
and  all  the  spectators. 

"This  is  indeed  one  of  our  good  God's 
angels,"  they  exclaimed  one  after  another. 

"It  is  truly,"  repeated  St.  Joseph;  "an 
angel  of  God  he  will  remain  so  long  as 


ho  will  preserve  this  robe   spotless  and 
brilliant  as  it  is  at  present." 

"Alas!"  said  the  8orr(^'ing  mother,  "it 
will  not  long  remain  so.  A  little  baby 
soils  everything,  and  a  white  dress  will 
very  soon  be  dirty." 

"  Not  at  all,"  returned  St.  Joseph.  " WIi  ile 
he  is  an  infant  he  will  not  stain  the  gar- 
ment. Remember,  it  comes  from  heaven. 
Now  the  angels  of  God  are  ordered  to  pre- 
serve it  from  all  stain  until  he  becomes 
large  enough  to  take  care  of  himself." 

"  But,"  again  objected  the  mother,  "how 
can  he  wear  the  gown  after  he  grows 
larger?" 

"Fear  not,  woman,"  replied  the  Saint; 
"  everything  that  comes  from  Heaven  is 
large  enough  for  man,  whether  he  be  a 
dwarf  or  a  giant.  Your  son  will  not  only 
continue  to  wear  it  after  he  is  grown,  but 
he  must  never  part  with  it,  since  he  is  to 
bear  it  with  him  to  judgment.  It  is  his 
passport  to  the  other  life ;  by  this  robe 
God  will  recognize  him  as  His  child  when 
he  will  present  himself  at  the  gate  of  Para- 
dise. But  let  him  guard  it  well;  and  you, 
who  are  his  respondents,  father,  mother, 
God-father  and  God-mother,  do  not  forget 
to  explain  this  to  him  when  he  will  be  old 
enough  to  understand  it — not  the  stains 
from  without,  but  blemishes  from  evil 
within  that  tarnish  the  whiteness  of  this 
garment.  While  his  will  remains  docile, 
his  heart  pure,  the  robe  will  retain  its  fresh- 
ness and  brilliancy,  and  all  the  blemishes 
which  the  wicked  may  strive  to  imprint 
thereon,  will  be  repulsed  by  interior  virtue. 
When  it  is  otherwise,  it  will  be  owing  to 
his  own  free  will.  But  every  stain  of  con- 
science will   be  visible  on  this  vestment." 

"Alas!  holy  St.  Joseph,"  continued  the 
mothei',  "you  know  how  weak  poor  human 
nature  is.  How  can  we  avoid  the  stains 
when  it  is  so  difficult  to  avoid  sin?" 

"That  is  but  too  true,"  returned  the  loving 
fosterfathcr.  "  For  this  reason  has  our 
Divine  Redeemer  placed  the  remedy  beside 
the  evil.  When  the  robe  becomes  soiled, 
the  waters  of  heaven  can  restore  to  it  the 
freshness  and  beauty  of  this  lily." 

And  the  virginal  spouse   exhibited  the 


AVE      MARIA. 


143 


flower,  the  symbol  of  purity,  which  he  bore 
in  hi»  hand  as  a  scepter. 

"  One  more  reconimeinlfttion,"  said  he. 
"Although  this  child's  robe  sliould  one 
day  become  as  bhick  as  ink,  so  that  he 
wouhl  wisli  to  hide  it  beneath  other  gar- 
ments, the  inhabitants  of  iieaven  still  cher- 
ish sentiments  of  love  and  pity  for  their 
brethren  here  below ;  and  more  than  once 
have  the  tears  of  a  saint,  falling  at  the  last 
moment  on  the  robe  of  a  sinner,  effaced  the 
stains  which  the  latter  had  not  the  courage 
to  wash  out  himseltV 

"And  now,"  continued  the  holy  man, 
"adieu!  I  can  remain  among  you  no  longer. 
The  evil  spirit  has  broken  several  steps 
of  the  ladder  which  the  poor  struggling 
souls  nmst  ascend  in  order  to  reach  Para- 
dise; and,  besides,  the  Holy  Virgin  says 
that  for  some  of  the  little  ones  who  are 
striving  to  reach  the  top,  many  of  the  steps 
are  too  far  apart.  So,  you  see,  as  master 
carpenter  of  heaven,  it  is  my  place  to  attend 
to  this  matter." 

\\''ith  these  words  St.  J.oseph  departed,  to 
the  great  regret  of  the  mother,  who  would 
have  been  delighted  had  he  remained  to  par- 
take of  the  elegant  repast  she  had  prepared. 

II. 

Meanwhile,  the  baptized  child  increased 
in  strength  and  beauty.  He  had  almost  at- 
tained the  age  of  reason,  and,  as  his  glori- 
ous patron  had  predicted,  his  baptismal 
robe  still  retained  its  spotless  purity. 

But,  in  proportion  as  his  mind  developed, 
his  little  lies,  his  childish  rebellions,  and 
his  petty  thefts,  partook  of  the  nature  of 
malice.  Gradually,  also,  the  primitive 
whiteness  of  his  garment  might  be  ob- 
served becoming  obscured  in  several  places. 
These  were  not  yet,  however,  properly 
speaking,  real  stains,  but  a  diminution 
of  brilliancy.  The  diamond  robe  had  be- 
come tarnished,  and  reflected  less  vividly 
the  light  of  heaven. 

But  his  evil  genius  progressed  rapidly,  and 
soon  the  precious  boon  lost  all  its  brillian- 
cy. '  Then  came  the  age  of  the  passions : 
his  wickedness  increased  still  more,  and 
one  day  the  territied  mother  perceived  her 


son  striving  to  hide  between  the  folds  of 
his  mantle  a  large  black  spot. 

The  mother  liesought  him  weeping :  "  Oh, 
my  son  !"  said  she  to  him,  "  have  recourse 
inunediatcly  to  the  remedy  which  your 
holy  patron  pointed  out  to  you.  Expose 
your  robe  to  the  waters  of  heaven,  and, 
when  it  is  washed,  the  sun's  rays  will  dry 
it  and  restore  its  original  brightness." 

But  the  young  man,  closing  his  heart 
to  the  tender  exhortations  of  his  mother, 
would  not  admit  that  his  robe  was  stained: 
and  the  better  to  conceal  the  large  spot 
which  betrayed  his  fault  to  every  eye,  he 
he  endeavored  to  press  the  fold  of  his  gar- 
ment closer  to  his  person. 

This  fatal  spot,  like  a  drop  of  oil,  con- 
tinued to  spread  until  it  covered  a  large 
portion  of  the  robe. 

The  young  man  at  length  wallowed, 
like  an  unclean  animal,  in  the  mire  of  im- 
purity; and  as  his  heart  loved  the  mire, 
his  garment  partook  of  its  foul  color. 

He  at  length  grew  weary  of  displaying 
this  tainted  robe,  which,  even  to  his  own 
eyes,  was  a  continual  reproach,  and  which 
disclosed  to  every  one  that  he  no  longer 
served  the  Master  whose  livery  he  wore. 
As  he  could  not  lay  it  aside,  and  as  he  no 
longer  wished,  owing  to  the  wicked  pro- 
pensities of  his  heart,  to  have  recourse  to 
the  only  means  by  which  it  could  be  re- 
stored to  its  primitive  purity,  he  resolved 
to  conceal  it  beneath  the  garb  of  the  world's 
votaries,  whose  life  he  had  been  following 
for  some  time.  Besides,  liis  baptismal 
robe  was  no  longer  agreeable  to  him;  his 
evil  comrades  ridiculed  it,  and  had  it  been 
still  beautiful  and  white  he  would  have 
blushed  to  wear  it. 

He  hid  it  therefore  beneath  his  other 
clothes,  and  from  that  moment  dated  the 
absolute  reign  of  Satan  in  his  soul.  For 
hitherto,  this  heaven-sent  garb,  even 
against  his  will,  was  occasionally  moistened 
by  the  dew  of  heaven,  and  lost  somewhat 
of  its  fetid  odor  by  being  exposed  to  God's 
own  pure  air.  But  being  now  in  contact 
only  with  a  body  delivered  to  impure  em- 
otions, it  became  blacker,  and  at  length, 
from  its  very  blackness,  assumed  a  species 


144r 


AVE      MARIA 


of  livid  whiteness,  resembling  cloth  con- 
siinic'd  by  fire. 

It  exhibited  this  appearance  one  day  when 
the  unfortunate  young  man  glanced  at  it. 
He  laughed  maliciously,  and  said  to  him- 
self that  fortune  had  served  him  well,  and 
that  he  could  go  the  next  day  to  reclaim 
his  throne  in  heaven,  which  belonged  to 
him  in  right  of  his  white  robe. 

The  occasion  presented  itself  sooner  than 
he  expected.  The  young  man  reached 
his  prime,  then  became  an  old  man,  the  old 
man  soon  became  a  whitened  sepulchre  to 
open  before  long  to  admit  death,  and  the 
grim  monster,  though  long  feared,  came 
when  least  expected.  Without  allowing  the 
poor  wretch  time  to  recollect  himself,  he 
he  tore  him  away  brutJilly,  and  launched 
him  into  eternity,  clothed  only  in  the  robe 
which  he  had  received  at  Baptism. 

III. 

Thus  was  he  carried  oif  like  a  feather  by 
a  blast  of  wind,  to  traverse  the  infinity  of 
space,  towards  that  intermediate  region, 
where  the  souls  of  men  appear  before  their 
Sovereign  Judge. 

While  still  some  distance  from  the  divine 
tribunal,  he  perceived  approaching  two 
souls,  also  invested  with  the  snowy  garb 
of  Baptism.  They  were  as  brilliant  as  the 
stars.  The  robe  of  the  first  resembled  a 
pure  mirror,  reflecting  the  dazzling  splen- 
dor of  God.  Our  blessed  Lord  extended 
His  arms  towards  it,  and  it  was  lost  in  the 
light  of  heaven.  The  other  advanced  in 
its  turn,  but  on  its  shining  garment  might 
be  discerned  in  some  places  slight  shad- 
ows like  spots  on  the  sun.  Uttering  a  two- 
fold cry  of  sorrow  and  of  love,  and  in 
deepest  desperation  flying  from  the  sight 
of  that  just  Judge,  it  took  its  flight  towards 
that  ocean  of  fire  into  which  souls  plunge 
themselves,  not  Avithout  suflTering,  but  with- 
out regret,  to  purify  by  those  glowing  flames 
their  least  stains. 

One  soul  now  remains  before  that  awful 
tribunal.  Why  does  it  shudder  and  quake 
with  terror?  Does  it  not  also  bear  the 
livery  by  which  the  Heavenly  Father  re- 
co<:nizes  Ilis  elect?     Is  it  not  clothed    in 


the  holy  robe  of  Baptism  ?  Blessed  patron 
of  this  trembling  soul,  can  yoii  recognize 
in  this  dishonored  robe  that  garb  of  inno- 
cence which  you  brought  it  from  heaven 
in  the  first  days  of  its  infancy  ?  Scorched 
by  the  fire  of  its  earthly  passions,  the  dia- 
mond garb,  more  fragile  at  this  moment 
than  a  spider's  web,  contracts  and  is  rent 
asunder  by  the  powerful  rays  wliich  em- 
anate from  the  avenging  throne.  Through 
the  burning  robe  the  soul  feels  itself  touch- 
ed by  that  devouring  heat.  O  rains  of 
heaven  !  where  are  you  ?  Tears  of  the 
saints,  is  it  too  late  for  you  to  flow  upon 
this  sin-stained  robe,  to  restore  the  secret 
virtue  belonging  to  it,  with  which,  as  a 
buckler,  it  clothes  the  soul  on  that  terrible 
day  of  its  appearance  before  its  God  ?  It 
is  too  late  !  The  soul  is  in  the  presence 
of  its  Judge.  Under  the  searching  glance 
of  His  all-seeing  eye,  the  desecrated  mantle 
was  reduced  into  dust,  and  the  crimes  of 
this  unhappy  soul,  laid  bare  to  every  eye, 
have  received  the  seal  of  eternity.  Eter- 
nal tears,  can  you  wash  them  out? — Cath- 
olic Mirror. 


Receipts  for  Defence  of  the  Pope. 


Amount  on  hand — from  No.  5 %  375  56 

Saint  Malachy's  Sunday  School, 

Philadelphia 50 

Miss  F.  Dufiy'  and  sister,  Phila. .  1  00 
Mrs.  McKeowne,  New  Melleray, 

Iowa 2  00 

A  friend l  00 

M.  Duify,  Elleard,  Mo 2  00 


Total  amount  on  hand $    382  06 

Am't  remitted  up  to  Oct.  5, 1868.  1,343  00 


Total $1,725  06 


A  Description. — A  writer,  in  speaking 
of  a  musical  professor,  described  him  as 
"throwing  his  chest  forward,  and  draw- 
ing back  his  head  while  singing,  as  if  try- 
ing to  dodge  a  well  aimed  l)riekbat." 


AVE   MARIA. 

^  tfatholic^ouvnal  tUvoUA  to  the  itouor  of  the  98le$$ecl  i'irgiti 


Vol.  V. 


VOTEE  DAME.  Iin)IANA,  MABOH  6,  1869. 


Ho.  10. 


Mary  the  Key  to  Mystery. 


[concluded  from  page  J16.] 


We  have  but  to  trace  the  histories  of 
nations  to  feel  assured  of  this.  All  na- 
tions in  their  infancy  point  to  traditions 
in  which  not  only  the  fall  is  clearly  traced, 
but  the  redemption  by  a  Son  of  God  born 
of  a  virgin  mother  is  prophetically  pre- 
served amid  the  allegories  wliich  soon  en- 
shrouded truth  from  the  eyes  of  men,  as 
with  a  mist. 

Human  virtue — the  type  of  divine  vir- 
tue— still  preserved  a  hold  on  luiman  in- 
telligence, from  "the  fitness  of  things," 
long  after  the  light  of  the  old  traditions 
had  faded  from  men's  sight;  but  corrup- 
tion made  way  in  spite  of  it.  The  luxury 
and  dissoluteness  of  nation  after  nation 
prepared  the  way  not  only  for  depravation 
of  manners,  but  for  losing  sight  of  the 
very  foundations  on  which  that  virtue  was 
based.  Industry  became  compulsory  on 
the  poor,  who  were  mostly  reduced  to  slav- 
ery, and  the  rich  held  themselves  above 
all  useful  work.  Woman  was  degraded, 
and  tlie  family, — the  domestic  hearth, 
which  should  be  the  centre  whence  pro- 
ceeds every  holy  feeling,  was  sullied  and 
forsaken. 

Old  civilization  was  departing  visibly 
with  the  principles  that  upheld  it,  when 
the  angels'  song  was  heard  on  the  plains 
near  David's  city;  when  the  restoration 
was  proclaimed  as  about  to  begin,  good 
tidings  announced  to  men  of  good  will, 
the  shepherds  directed  to.  the  Virgin 
Mother,  on  whose  lap  they  found  the  God- 


Child  promised  from   the  beginning,  of 
whose  reign  there  was  to  be  no  end. 

Old  civilization  was  departing,  and  a 
new  era  was  to  be  inaugurated.  The 
great  of  the  eartli  haa  become  too  proud 
to  toil!  The  greatest  in  the  universe  de- 
scended to  labor  and  suffer.  All  flesh 
had  corrupted  its  way,  and  God  prepared 
a  woman  to  walk  before  Him  in  holiness, 
purity,  singleness  of  purpose,  devoted  to 
His  service,  perfected  by  Him,  that  she 
might  be  the  Mother  of  His  human  nature, 
the  nurse  of  His  infancy,  the  tender  guar- 
dian of  His  childhood,  the  instructor  of 
His  growing  years,  the  provider  for  His 
domestic  necessities  in  riper  age. 

Mary  was  to  dwell  with  God  under  all 
these  phases, — God,  who  was  come  to  re- 
store and  to  save  that  which  was  lost. 
She  was  the  perfect  woman ;  she  fulfilled 
the  perfect  woman's  oflice,  that  of  calling 
out  the  best  human  afiiections,  in  order  to 
unite  them  to  the  divine  principle  which 
stamps  them  with  the  seal  of  eternity, 
while  perfecting  and  purifying  them  dur- 
ing their  growth. 

Being  Mother  of  God,  she  was  also 
the  type  of  those  mothers  who  realize  that 
it  is  their  especial  province  to  produce, 
tend,  cultivate  and  foster  the  divine  prin- 
ciple in  the  souls  of  their  children.  Mary, 
Mother  of  God,  pray  for  the  women  who 
have  been  reclaimed  through  thine  instru- 
mentality from  degradation  of  every  kind, 
that  they  may  testify  their  appreciation  of 
the  fact  by  devoting  themselves  to  soul- 
culture, — to  the  culture  of  the  best  afiec- 
tions,  of  the  highest  aspirations;  and  that 
not  only  in  themselves,  but  in  all  whom 
they  influenc«:  sons,  brothers,  husbands, 
or  those  of  their  own  sex. 


wmtm^^^^fK^ 


146 


AVE       MARIA. 


If  Evo  sinned  so  deeply  by  stepping  out 
of  her  province  to  seek  forbidden  lore,  let 
the  daughters  of  Mary  make  their  Mother's 
life  a  study  for  their  own  imitation,  secure 
that  in  so  doing  they  have  the  true  model 
throughout  all  time  for  their  imitation. 

Knowledge  is  good,  but  there  are  con- 
ditions under  which  it  is  inappropriate. 

The  knowledge  of  the  world's  wicked- 
ness in  a  child  going  to  school,  is  destruct- 
ive of  innocence; — it  disturbs  the  equilib- 
rium of  the  faculties,  and  presents  a  dis- 
torted image  which  cannot  fail  to  injure 
proportional  development. 

But  to  a  yoxmg  woman  just  entering  into 
her  office  of  bringing  God  home  to  the  do- 
mestic hearth,  there  to  dwell  in  purity  in 
the  presence  of  Mary,  such  knowledge  is 
even  more  destructive: — it  disturbs  the 
imagination,  injures  faith  in  goodness, 
and  thereby  lessens  the  influence  for  good 
which  might  otherwise  be  so  potent. 

As  we  advance  in  life,  knowledge  of 
evil  must  come, — we  cannot  avoid  it; — it 
is  our  heritage  from  Eve.  But  O  ye 
mothers  who  have  sat  at  the  feet  of  Mary ! 
— ye  who  seek  like  her  to  foster  God  in 
the  human  soul, — keep  this  foul  knowledge 
of  wickedness  from  your  sons  and  above 
all  from  your  daughters,  while  yet  their 
characters  are  unformed, — while  they  are 
yet  impressible  to  every  mould, — while  the 
brightness  of  heaven  may  still  be  reflected 
in  their  souls.  Let  them  taste  of  the  de- 
lights of  goodness, — ^let  them  expand  be- 
neath the  joys  of  piety  and  religion, — let 
them  know  the  highest  character  that  hu- 
manity can  produce,  by  the  practical  ex- 
emplification of  Mary's  domestic  diffusion 
of  happiness  which  they  find  under  your 
supervision. 

Let  them  dwell  with  you  and  Mary  in 
the  house  of  Nazareth,  the  abode  of  peace- 
ful contemplation,  industry  and  prayer. 
Let  them  be  raised  in  spirit  to  see  the 
things  of  earth  as  they  are  seen  in  God ; 
and  when  the  sight  of  evil  is  in  after-life 
forced  upon  them,  they  will  shrink,  draw 
back,  and  value  more  highly  the  life  your 
fostering  care  once  made  so  loveable,  so 
full  of  tranquil  bliss. 


When  we  look  abroad  'mid  the  turmoil 
of  a  world  standing  ever  on  volcanic  com- 
bustibles Avhich  may  in  a  moment  ui)heave 
and  overturn  every  edifice  we  have  built, 
and  bear  us  down  into  irretrievable  ruin; 
when  we  see  ourselves  surrounded  by 
smartness,  which  builds  exultingly  its  own 
prosperity  on  another's  ruin ;  when  we 
feel  that  selfishness  rules  every  commu- 
nity; that  ambition,  love  of  power,  riches 
or  sensuality  ai-e  the  real  motive  powers 
of  this  lower  earth, — we  need  a  hold — a 
strong  hold — on  some  reliable  principle  to 
keej)  our  tottering  faith,  our  shaking  vir- 
tue, from  being  overborne  by  the  powers 
and  influences  which  surround  us;  we 
need  a  human  example  to  which  we  can 
point,  to  feel  sure  that  humanity  can  soar 
above  temptation,  can  bear  sorrow  sin- 
lessly,  can  become  supernatural  in  spirit, 
divine  in  its  affinities.  We  are  so  weak, 
we  fall  so  often,  who  shall  give  us  cour- 
age to  proceed  ?  As  an  example,  the  God- 
Man  is  too  high  ;  His  power  too  far  tran- 
scends ours ;  we  want  to  know  what  He 
can  do,  what  He  has  done  to  strengthen, 
support,  and  render  divine  mere  human 
nature,  and  we  turn  to — Mary. 

Eve  sinned,  and  human  nature  became 
what  it  now  is:  subject  to  sin  and  misery, 
to  guilt  and  shame,  to  remorse  and  suffer- 
ing of  every  shade,  of  every  description. 

The  page  of  history  is  but  a  vaned  rec- 
ord of  human  crime.  Mary  corresponded 
with  grace,  and  merited  to  become  the 
Mother  of  the  Redeemer ;  and  the  lives  of 
the  saints  are  the  living  record  of  what 
that  redemption  is. 

Eve  was  not  happy  in  Eden  because  she 
could  not  wait  for  the  manifestation  of 
God's  will  ere  she  plucked  the  fruit  from 
the  tree  of  knowledge. 

Mary  calmly  suffered  toil,  poverty,  in- 
convenience, sorrow — even  to  the  foot  of 
the  Cross, — sublimely  co-opeiMting  in  the 
world's  redemption  by  suffering,  because 
such  was  the  will  of  God. 

And  now  the  knowledge  of  M'iry  brings 
wisdom,  unravels  the  clue  to  this  world's 
mysteries,  because  she  is  the  pattern 
woman:  from  her  we  learn  how  high  hu- 


AVE      MARIA 


-J 


14:7 


manity  may  ascend,  how  divine  nature 
may  l>coomo,  to  what  i'xalto«l  lu'ights  mere 
womanhood  may  aspire. 

True,  all  cannot  rise  to  the  dignity  of 
our  Queen  ;  but  Queen  as  she  is,  her  nature 
is  our  nature,  and  if  not  in  degree  so  high, 
yet  similar  in  substance  must  our  virtue 
be.  If  she  rose  by  humility,  we  cannot  rise 
by  pride.  If  God  loved  her  for  her  purity. 
He  will  not  love  us  for  our  sensuality.  If 
her  patience  and  love  of  suffering  found 
favor  in  Ilis  sight,  our  love  of  ease  and 
impatience  are  not  likely  to  meet  with  ap- 
proval. 

Mary,  the  model  woman !  are  we  even  en- 
deavoring to  imitate  her?  She  lived  in 
retirement  that  she  might  hold  closer  com- 
munion with  her  God.  And  how  much 
mischief  daily  ensues  from  the  gadding 
and  gossipping  of  idle  women  who  are 
taken  up  with  everything  excepting  God  ! 

Mary  kept  the  sayings  which  she  heard 
abroad  in  her  heart,  waiting  for  God  to 
make  manifest  the  meaning  by  the  event. 

Thus  is  our  over-eagerness  reproved, 
which  cannot  wait  a  day,  an  hour !  but  in 
its  over-anxiety  consumes  much  precious 
time  in  idleness,  and  wastes  itself  in  lam- 
en  ti\ble  forebodings  I 

Mary,  the  greatest,  the  noblest  human 
being  the  earth  e'er  saw,  had  no  such 
weakness.  Reason  presided  over  feeling, 
and  both  reason  and  feeling  were  inti- 
mately united  to  God.  Sublime  union! 
Words  cannot  express  its  dignity.  God 
took  a  woman  to  Ilis  councils,  made  her 
participator  of  His  sufferings  when  He  re- 
deemed the  world ;  and  she  stood — she 
fainted  not,  she  stood  beneath  the  Cross, 
sustained  by  the  divine  power  of  that 
union,  firm  in  the  sublime  consciousness 
that  she  had  done  her  part  in  the  world's 
salvation  ;  that  on  the  heights  of  Calvary 
she,  a  woman,  one  of  the  weaker  sex,  had 
stood  with  a  woman's  heart,  with  a  wom- 
an's tenderness,  sacrificing  all  that  was 
dear  to  human  nature,  all  that  was  most 
deeply  rooted  of  tender  love  in  her  great 
mother  heart,  because  that  heart  had  so 
ingrafted  itself  on  the  Heart  of  Jesus  they 
formed  but  one  ;  what  He  loved,  she  loved 


out  of  the  very  intensity  of  her  love  for 
Him ;  she  saw  with  His  eyes,  she  heard 
with  His  ears,  she  understood  with  His 
understanding.  He  willed  to  suffer:  she 
willed  that  He  should  suffer,  and  for  the 
same  cause — "to  draw  all  men  to  Him  by 
the  chords  of  love!" 

O  mystery  of  love !  which  those  only  can 
comprehend  who  penetrate  within  the  cir- 
cle and  enter  into  the  recesses  of  the  Sacred 
Hearts  of  Jesus  and  of  Marj' — who  can  fol- 
low the  footsteps  of  the  Deipara  and  not 
imbibe  some  portion  of  thy  richness? 

Mary  was  a  woman, — rich  beyond  compare 
in  grace,  but  still  a  woman  only.  What 
therefore  it  was  given  her  to  feel  and  know, 
a  woman  may  feel  and  know.  But  how?  By 
treading  in  her  steps ;  by  withdrawing  de- 
sires from  the  world;  by  cherishing  God 
become  man  that  He  might  be  so  cherished ; 
by  elevating  the  soul  to  the  highest  pos- 
sible conceptions  of  goodness,  beauty,  and 
truth,  and  then  waiting  in  humility  for 
God  to  descend  and  confirm  this  divine 
state  of  our  being. 

But  Mary  was  pure  as  we  can  never  be ; 
yet  because  she  is  so  pure  she  will  aid  us 
to  become  purified ;  she  will  be  the  Mother 
of  God  in  our  souls  if  we  so  will  it.  Di- 
vine grace  coming  through  her  is  tempered 
of  that  severe  justice  which  would  destroy 
us.  Mary  only  is  pure  enough  to  receive 
the  rays  direct  from  the  All-Holy,  Living 
God,  and  not  die. 

She  is  the  Mother  of  God ;  she  is  also 
our  Mother.  Let  us  be  true  and  faithful 
children  of  such  a  Mother.  The  home- 
stead of  Nazareth,  the  industry,  love,  pu- 
rity, holy  poverty,  spirit  of  prayer  which 
dwelt  therein  be  our  exaiTiple. 

Mary  lived  with  God ;  let  us  live  with 
Him  also!  His  spirit  dwelt  with  her,  ex- 
pounding all  mysteries,  infusing  all  sci- 
ence, enduing  her  soul  with  light  beyond 
parallel.  Angels  sang  to  her  of  the  past ; 
visions  of  the  present  disclosed  to  her  the 
hidden  brilliancy  of  life  pervading  all  cre- 
ation with  a  covert  charm,  ever  proceeding 
from  Essential  Being,  permeating  every 
atom  with  a  resistless  power,  and  bending 
it  to  a  purpose  good,  beneficent  and  kind. 


148 


AVE     MARIA. 


The  sacrifice  accomplished  through  her 
Son,  creation  made  for  man  lay  at  the  feet 
of  Mary,  now  its  Queen.  Its  Queen,  be- 
cause she  is  the  most  perfect  of  human 
kind !  Its  Queen,  because  she  bore  its 
Author,  its  Creator,  within  her  chaste  and 
tender  bosom !  Its  Queen,  because  the 
mysteries  of  knowledge  so  rashly  sought 
for  by  Eve  to  be  expounded  for  her  by  hu- 
man means,  now  lie  unrolled  before  Mary, 
seen  in  God. 

Mary  sees  knowledge  as  no  created  be- 
ing sees  so  perfectly  save  her;  yet  if  we 
sit  at  her  feet  and  contemplate  her  beauty, 
somewhat  of  that  sublime,  overpowering 
science  unveils  itself,  communicates  itself 
to  us;  thoughts  that  were  inextricable  lab- 
yrinths become  clear  to  us,  difficidties  here- 
tofore appalling  vanish;  the  human  hand 
of  Mary  extends  itself  to  us  and  points  to 
the  meaning,  and  when  we  have  read  and 
pondered  the  explanation,  the  human  hand 
seems  to  become  divine ;  we  are  gently 
lifted  out  of  our  wonted  sphere,  (ind  under 
Mary's  guidance  made  to  feel  that  men 
were    created   expressly  to    become  the 

CHILDREN   OF   THE   MoST   IIiGH    GoD. 

M.  A.  Gkix. 


A   SERMON. 


By  Rev.  M.  Mullin. 

"  Blessed  is  the  womb  that  bore  Thee  and  the 
paps  that  gave  Thee  suck !"  Nay,  rather,  "  Blessed 
are  those  who  hear  the  word  of  God  and  keep  it." 
I. 

T^ese  words  I  have  chosen  for  my  text 
contain  the  whole  teaching  of  the  catho- 
lic Church  regarding  the  Mother  of  God. 

You  are  aware  how  from  the  dawn  of 
Christianity  the  Blessed  Virgin  has  been 
made  the  centre  of  hot  controversy  be- 
tween thechampions  of  tlie  catholic  Church 
and  their  heretical  and  inlidel  opponents. 
Age  after  age,  especially  since  that  of  the 
impious  Nestorius  in  the  fourth  century, 
have  false  knights  armed  themselves  to  do 


battle  against  the  privileges,  the  glories 
and  the  honor  of  Mary,  now  assailing  one, 
and  again  another  of  her  great  prerogatives 
as  Mother  of  God.  And  age  after  age, 
WMth  more  than  the  devotedness  of  knights 
of  chivalry,  have  the  Doctors  and  Fathers 
of  the  Church,  the  cham]>ions  of  truth,  gone 
forth  armed  with  the  impenetrable  shield 
and  the  resistless  lance  of  knowledge  and 
faitlj,  to  fight  with  ever-triumphant  success 
for  the  honor  and  the  glory  of  their  divine 
Mistress.  For  eighteen  hundred  years  has 
the  struggle  gone  on,  always  with  victory 
on  the  side  of  truth  and  defeat  on  the  side 
of  error  until  in  our  day  they  have  en- 
deavored not  only  to  lay  sacrilegious 
hands  on  her  like  their  predecessors  and 
to  drag  her  down  from  the  high  pedestal 
on  which,  as  Mother  of  God,  she  has  been 
so  justly  placed,  but  even  to  strip  her  of 
that  first  precious  privilege  bestowed  on 
her, — that  is,  of  her  Immaculate  Concep- 
tion !  But  I  may  here  incidentally  remark 
that  in  this  she  has  only  shared  the  fate 
of  her  divine  Son  and  of  the  other  persons 
of  the  Trinity.  The  Arians  in  their  day, 
like  the  Unitarians  at  present,  denied  the 
divinity  of  Jesus  Christ,  just  as  others 
denied  the  reality  of  His  human  nature, 
declaring  it  to  be  a  phantasm  ;  and  others 
denied  the  incarnation.  The  Iloly  Ghost, 
the  source  of  light,  the  Comforter  and  Para- 
clete, has  been  similarly  assailed  through 
all  time :  the  very  attributes  of  the  Father 
have  not  been  spared.  Need  we  woudei' 
then  if  the  Mother  has  shared  the  fate  of 
the  Son,  especially  when  the  eternal  God 
Himself  has  not  escaped? 

Now,  who  is  right  and  wjio  is  wrong  in 
this  long-continued  coiitroversy  regarding 
the  Blessed  Virgin?  Modern  protestant- 
ism through  its  more  respectable  repre- 
sentatives admits  that  she  was  a  woman 
highly  honored  and  better  than  most  of 
her  sex ;  but  at  the  same  time  it  asserts 
that  she  was  conceived  and  born  h\  orig- 
inal sin,  and  that  after  having  come  to  the 
years  of  discretion  she  was  liable  to  fall 
into  actual  sin  more  or  less  grievous.  But 
the  catholic  Church  teaches — 1st,  that  tico 
great  privileges  were  granted  her. 


AVE      MARIA 


140 


Two  pjreat  privileges : 

A  privilege  menns  an  exemption  from  a 
general  law.  The  first  general  law  from 
which  Mary  was  exempted,  was  that  of 
original  sin,  in  which  all  the  children  of 
Adam  since  his  fall  are  conceived.  The 
second  privilege  is  her  exemption  from  all 
actual  sin,  deliberate  atid  indeliberate. 
You  are  aware  that  according  to  an  article 
of  catholic  faith,  no  adult  can  live  for  any 
time  here  without  falling  at  least  into 
what  is  called  indeliberate  venial  sin. 
Mary  is,  as  far  as  we  know  with  certainty, 
after  her  divine  Son  the  only  exception. 
These  two  privileges  are,  as  you  perceive, 
only  negative  graces.  The  Church  teaches 
that  in  addition  to  these,  other  extraordi- 
nary and  positive  graces  were  outpoured 
upon  her  soul, — graces,  which  human  reason 
cannot  calculate  and  arithmetic  cannot  rep- 
resent in  ciphers.  These  privileges  and 
graces  were  given  gratuitously, — that  is, 
without  any  previous  merit  on  her  part, 
but  through  the  foreseen  merits  of  her 
own  Son  applied  to  her  by  anticipation  as 
they  had  been  to  the  saints  of  the  Old  Law; 
and  they  spring  from  the  divine  maternity 
as  their  root.  In  this  sense  the  woman 
mentioned  in  the  Gospel  truly  exclaimed 
"  Blessed  is  the  womb  that  bore  Thee ;  and 
the  paps  that  gave  Thee  suck."  * 

2d.  The  second  point  of  catholic  teaching 
regarding  the  BlessedVirgin  explains  the 
Redeemer's  answer:  "Nay  rather  blessed 
are  they  who  hear  the  word  of  God  and  keep 
it."  Some  protestants  try  to  make  capital 
out  of  these  words.  But  observe  how 
groundless  is  this  assertion.  The  Re- 
deemer does  not  deny  or  contradict 
the  exclamation  of  the  Jewish  woman, 
that  "blessed  was  the  womb  that  bore 
Him."  As  Mother  of  God,  Mary  was 
blessed  with  the  privileges  and  graces  I 
have  described.  But  these  were  not  of 
her  own  earning,  of  her  own  merit.  They 
were  the  gracious  gifts  God  had  decreed 
from  all  eternity  to  confer  on  her.  Her 
great  glory  in  a  certain  sense  consisted  in 
her  own  free  action,  in  her  faithful  co- 
operation with  the  graces  she  had  received, 
and  in  the  ever  accumulating  merits  she 


won  by  her  full  correspondence  with  the 
lights  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  She  was  through 
her  whole  career  faithful  to  the  word  of 
God;  not  only  to  the  outward  word  of  the 
law,  as  we  see,  for  instance,  in  her  obedi- 
ence to  the  law  of  purification,  which,  of 
course,  did  not  bind  her, — but  to  the  in- 
ward word  of  grace,  to  which  she  was 
never  deaf,  never  wanting  for  a  single  mo- 
ment. This  is  her  om'u  merit,  her  self- 
purchased  glory.  Therefore,  the  Redeemer 
well  said  "  Nay,  rather  blessed  are  those 
who  hear  the  word  of  God  and  keep  it," 
as  much  to  say — "  My  Mother  is  blessed, 
no  doubt,  on  account  of  the  extraordinary 
favors  conceded  to  her  as  such.  In  this 
respect  you  cannot  hope  to  be  like  her. 
But  more  especially  blessed  is  she  on  ac- 
count of  her  constant  and  faithful  co-oper- 
ation with  the  graces  she  received.  In 
this  respect  you  may  imitate  her."  And 
therefore  He  especially  lays  stress  on  this 
source  of  her  blessedness. 

Here  then,  my  friends,  you  have  the 
catholic  and  the  protestant  teachings  on 
this  head  opposed  hand  to  hand  and  foot 
to  foot.  Protestantism  denies,  firstly,  her 
privileges,  viz:  exemption  from  original 
and  from  all  actual  sin,  and  her  other  extra- 
ordinary favors,  and  secondly,  the  incalcu- 
lable amount  of  merit  heaped  up  by  the 
exercise  of  her  own  liberty  in  correspond- 
ing with  grace.  Catholicity  asserts  them 
all.  Once  again  I  ask,  who  is  right  and 
who  is  wrong? 

Abstracting  from  the  authority  of  the 
infallible  Church,  which  of  course  can  be 
the  only  prop  and  pillar  of  certain  faith, 
and  taking  protestantism  on  its  own 
grounds,  there  are  two  lights  by  which  we^ 
are  to  be  guided  to  a  decision;  these  are 
the  light  of  reason  and  the  light  of  reve- 
lation, twin  sisters  which  go  hand  and 
hand,  though  outsiders  may  not  obsen'e 
it,  within  the  domain  of  the  catholic 
Church. 

Istly. — "What  does  Reason  say? 

Reason  says  that  the  blood  and  flesh, 
out  of  which  was  formed  the  body  and 
blood  of  the  Man-God,  ought  never  at  any 
moment,  first  or  last,  be  stained  with  sin. 


150 


AVE     MARIA. 


The  sanctity  of  God,  dwelling  in  light  in- 
accessible, makes  it  blasphemy  to  imagine 
such  an  union.  Yet  if  at  any  time  in  the 
life  of  Mary,  whether  jvt  tlie  time  of  her 
conception,  or  afterward.s,  we  admit  her 
to  have  been  trampled  cither  by  original 
or  by  actual  ain  under  the  hoof  of  the  de- 
mon, we  are  adniitting  that  the  Son  of  God 
the  splendor  of  His  substance  and  the 
brightness  of  His  glory,  took  flesh  and 
blood  from  a  body  that  had  been  defiled 
with  the  slime  of  the  serpent !  Does  not 
enlightened  reason  rebel  at  the  idea? 

Again,  to  appeal  to  a  comparison  often 
made:  Suppose  a  poet,  or  a  painter,  or  a 
sculptor  were  permitted  by  God  to  choose 
as  their  partners  women  the  most  beautiful 
they  could  fancy,  paint,  or  chisel.  Would 
not  the  creative  power  of  the  poet  exhaust 
all  its  resources  to  picture  in  words  a 
woman  most  perfect  and  glorious  in  at- 
tributes of  mind  and  body  ?  Would 
not  the  painter  mix  his  costliest  colors 
and  the  sculptor  use  all  the  persevering 
energy  of  his  genius  to  produce  a  perfect 
model?  Reason  says  "Yes."  Now  the 
Son  of  God  freely  chose  from  all  eternity 
His  own  Mother.  Do  you  think  He  did 
not  in  His  choice  use  His  omniscience  to 
preconceive,  as  He  did  afterwards  His 
omnipotence  to  create,  a  woman  perfect 
and  most  pleasing  in  the  eyes  of  God  as 
creature  can  possibly  be?  Once  again 
Reason  says  "  Yes,"  and  rises  in  rebellion 
against  the  impious  supposition  that  He 
could  have  allowed  her  to  have  been,  for 
the  shortest  instant,  stained  with  sin. 

But  I  am  here  met  with  the  assertion 
that  all  the  descendants  of  Adam  according 
to  the  decree  are  conceived  and  born  in 
original  sin.  In  answer  to  this  I  say  that 
there  have  been  exceptions  to  this  general 
law,  partial  and  total.  The  partial  excep- 
tions are  John  the  Baptist  and  Jeremias 
the  prophet.  Tliey  were  not  born  in  orig- 
inal sin ;  because  they  were,  contrary  to 
the  general  rule,  freed  from  its  chains  in 
their  mothers'  wombs.  But  these  cases 
only  prove  a  partial  deviation  from  the 
general  law.  Is  there  among  the  descend- 
ants of  Adam  any  case  of  total  exemption 


from  the  law  of  original  sin  and  the  con- 
sequent liability  to  fall  into  actual  sin? 
Yes ;  our  divine  Lord  as  man  is  a  descend- 
ant of  Adam,  and  lie  is  an  exception. 
And  with  Ilini,  as  enlightened  reason 
loudly  proclaims,  we  associate  His  blessed 
Mother,  in  whose  womb  He  was  conceived, 
on  whose  bosom  He  was  cradled  in  infancy, 
and  in  whose  society  He  dwelt  hidden 
from  the  world  for  the  first  thirty  years  of 
His  life.  Oh  !  cold  and  cruel  must  be  the 
heart  conceiving  the  thought  that  such  a 
Son  could  have  allowed  such  a  Mother  to 
have  been,  when  it  was  in  His  power  to 
prevent  it,  subject  even  for  a  moment  to 
His  worst  and  basest  enemies — sin  and 
Satan. 

But  I  am  again  met  by  the  observation 
that  Reason  can  throw  no  light  on  this 
subject;  that  the  voice  of  God  in  revelation 
can  alone  make  it  known  to  us,  inasmuch 
as  the  privileges  and  graces  of  that  Virgin 
cannot  be  witnessed  by  our  senses.  Now, 
they  loudly  exclaim.  Revelation  is  silent 
with  regard  to  it ;  and  yet,  you  catholics 
elevate  the  Virgin  to  the  dignity  of  a 
Goddess  and  bow  before  her  in  Mary- 
worship  ! 

Revelation  is  silent?  In  answer,  I  as- 
sert that  the  voice  of  the  eternal  God  Him- 
self, in  the  infoncy  of  the  world,  from  the 
garden  of  the  terrestrial  paradise  as  from 
some  gigantic  watchtower  overlooking 
the  ages,  promulgated  our  doctrine  regard- 
ing the  Virgin :  and  I  assert  also  that  if 
Mary-worship  be  a  crime,  the  Archangel 
Gabriel  and  St.  Elizabeth  inspired  by  the 
Holy  Ghost  were  the  first  persons  guilty 
of  it !     Let  us  see. 

In  condemning  the  serpent  after  the  fall 
of  Adam,  God  said:  "I  will  place  enmities 
between  thee  and  the  woman,  between  her 
seed  and  thy  seed ;  and  she  shall  crush  thy 
head."  The  quibblings  over  the  difterent 
readings  of  this  text  are  profitless;  be- 
cause in  all  the  substantial  meaning  is  the 
same.  "  I  will  place  enmities  between 
thee  and  the  woman ; — I,  the  great  '  I 
am  who  am ;'  I,  the  all-powerful  Crea- 
tor, whom  you  have  insulted,  whom  you 
glory  to  have  seemingly  overcome  through 


AVK     MAUIA. 


151 


t 


a  woman  ;  I  Hhall  raise  up  a  M'oman  in 
future  time,  and  I  shall  make  her  in  her 
weakness  thy  ouponent ;  and  I  shall  estab- 
lish 'enmities,' that  is,  warfare, — perpetual, 
unrelenting,  ceaseless, — between  her  and 
thee.  Thou  thinkest  thou  hast  conquered 
Me  through  the  weakness  of  Eve,  but  I 
shall  conquer  thee  through  the  strength  of 
Mary.  That  warfare  shall  go  on  through 
all  time ;  and  she  shall  not  only  invariably 
conquer  thee,  but  shall  finally  trample  and 
crush  thy  very  head  in  the  dust." 

My  friends,  can  we  paint  to  ourselves  the 
vision  which  rose  before  the  mind  of  God, 
the  vision  of  this  mighty  woman  destined 
to  wage  war  unceasing  against  tlie  serpent 
and  to  finally  crush  his  pride  and  power? 
If  we  could  suppose  this  woman  to  have 
been  for  one  moment  subject  to  his  power 
through  sin,  original  or  actual,  the  serpent 
might  turn  and  mock  the  Almighty  thus : 
''But  this  woman  shall  at  least  for  one 
moment,  and  that  the  first  and  therefore 
the  most  precious,  be  subject  to  me."  Oh 
no  !  From  the  first  moment  a§  through  all 
other  moments  of  her  existence  on  earth, 
as  now,  the  warfare  inaugurated  by  the 
power  of  God  is  going  on:  and  Mary, 
terrible  as  an  army  in  battle-array,  is  al- 
ways triumphant. 

And  when  four  thousand  years  went  by, 
the  time  for  the  fulfilment  of  this  promise 
hung  out  like  a  banner  of  hope  from  the 
walls  of  Eden  had  arrived,  God  was  not 
forgetful.  He  had  already  raised  up  this 
mighty  oonqueress  in  the  person  of  a 
lowly  maiden :  and  He  gives  instructions 
to  the  Archangel  Gabriel  and  despatches 
him  to  earth  to  hold  converse  with  her. 
Gabriel,  who  in  former  ages  had  announced 
his  high  dignity  to  the  Prophet  Daniel, 
and,  a  few  months  before  the  event  I  de- 
scribe, to  Zachary,  a  high-priest  of  the 
temple,  seems  awed  in  presence  of  the 
Virgin.  "  Hail !  Full  of  Grace !"  were 
the  first  words  he  uttered.  He  did  not 
call  her  Mary,  but  he  named  her  "  Full 
of  Grace !"  a  fulness  like  that  of  the 
mountain  lake,  or  of  the  swollen  river, 
which  another  wave  would  cause  to  over- 
flow their  banks.    The  fulness  of  the  ocean, 


the  plenitude  of  the  atmosphere  but  feebly 
symbolize  the  fulness  here  predicated; 
"  Hail !  Full  of  (Jrace  "— "  a  fulness  "  only 
limited  by  her  finite  capacity  as  a  creature. 
"Hail!  Full  of  Grace!"  "The  Lord  is 
with  thee;" — little  wonder  therefore  she 
was  "  full  of  grace."  And  when  a  few 
days  afterwards,  the  Virgin  visited  Eliza- 
beth, the  latter,  as  the  Scripture  says,  "lull 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,"  exclaimed  "  Whence 
is  this  to  me  that  the  Mother  of  the  Lord 
should  visit  me."  Ah  !  there  is  the  secret 
spring,  the  key  of  the  arch  on  which  her 
privileges  and  glories  rest.  "  She  is  Mother 
of  the  Lord."  Whence  is  this  to  me  that 
the  Mother  of  the  Lord  should  visit  me ! 
Taking  up  as  it  were  the  echo  of  Gabriel's 
words,  Elizabeth  continued-^  "  Blessed  art 
thou  amongst  women  and  blessed  is  the 
fruit  of  thy  womb."  From  the  excellence 
of  the  fruit  is  known  the  parent- tree. 
Jesus  Christ  was  blessed  with  a  holiness 
which  the  shadow  of  sin  could  not  sully. 
Even  so  was  His  divine  Mother  blessed. 

I  conclude  therefore  that  the  Archangel 
and  St.  Elizabeth  were  the  first  worshippers 
of  Mary  in  the  catholic  sense.  The  one 
had  her  inspiration  from  the  Holy  Spirit ; 
the  other  had  received  his  instructions  in 
the  court  of  heaven  from  the  lips  of  God. 
Who  shall  dare  to  accuse  such  a  source  of 
corruption,  or  falsehood? 


On  the  10th  of  next  April  the  Holy 
Father  will  celebrate  the  fiftieth  year  of 
his  priesthood,  having  taken  Orders  on  the 
lOthof  April,  1819.  At  the  general  meet- 
ting  of  the  Catholic  L^nion  of  Germany, 
held  at  Bamberg,  it  was  decided  to  send 
an  address  to  the  Pope  on  the  occasion. 
The  Fb/Xrsio^tf  of  Munich  proposes  to  send 
the  Holy*  Father  at  the  same  time  a  gift 
worthy  of  the  circumstance  in  money  or 
otherwise. 

A  letter  from  Rome  states,  on  good 
authority,  that  the  Archbishop  of  West- 
minster will  be  made  a  Cardinal  before 
his  return  to  England.  The  Arhcbishop 
of  Paris  is  also  to  be  raised  to  the  same 
dignity. — London  Register. 


152 


AVE     MARIA. 


To  St.  Joseph. 


[Written  for  a  community  of  Poor  CUrod,  who  hud  received 
aoine  very  special  favors  through  the  Jnlerceasiou  of  St.  Jo«eph; 
bnt  it  il  hoped  that  ali  the  verses,  except  the  third  and  flftb,  may 
be  used  by  others,  aod  even  titese  with  a  littie  alteration.] 

Holy  Joseph,  dearest  futlier, 
To  thy  children's  prayer  incline, 

Whilst  we  sing  thy  joys  and  sorrows 
And  the  glories  which  are  thine. 

How  to  praise  thee,  how  to  thank  thee, 
Blessed  Saint,  we  cannot  tell ; 

Favors  countless  thou  hast  given — 
Can  we  choose  but  love  thee  well  ? 

Sponse  of  Mary,  thou  didst  guard  her: 
Shield  us,  too,  from  every  harm ; 

Guard  our  Mother,  guard  our  Sisters, 
With  thine  own  paternal  arm. 

Near  to  Jesus,  near  to  Mary, 
And,  kind  father,  near  to  thee 

Keep  us,  wlxile  on  earth  we  wander. 
And  in  death  our  helper  be. 

Sing  we  Joseph,  Spouse  of  Mary, 
And  our  convent's  blessed  friend ; 

Favors  countless,  mercies  constant. 
Thou  dost  ever  to  us  send. 

We  have  prayed,  and  thou  hast  answered ; 

We  have  asked,  and  thou  hast  given. 
Need  we  marvel?  Jesus  tells  us 

Joseph  has  the  stores  of  heaven. 

One  more  favor  we  will  ask  thee, — 
Thou  of  all  canst  grant  it  best : 

When  we  die,  be  thou  still  near  us. 
Bring  us  safe  to  endless  rest. 


BLOSSOMS  OF  FAITH  AND  LOVE; 

OR, 

Bonqaets  for  eyery  Season. 


"Be  liberal  towards  God,  and  God  will  in  return 
deal  liberally  towards  you." 

This  maxim  of  St.  Rodriguez  seems  a 
sufficient  reply  to  those  who  object  to  the 
profiision  of  minor  devotions  practised  by 
catholics,  as  being  superfluous.  It  has 
even  been  said,  that  while  thoughtful  and 
intelligent  observers  are  attracted  to  the 
Church  by  the  surpassing  grandeur  of  her 
ritual  and  sublimity  of  her  doctrines,  on 


the  other  hand  they  are  repelled  by  the 
numberless  devotions,  public  and  private, 
which  seem  to  thom  if  not  actunlly  super- 
stitious, at  least  frivolous,  childish,  an<l, 
in  many  cases,  irreverent.  Ah  !  let  such 
observers  pass  beyond  the  portals  of  the 
wondrous  tem])]e  that  attracts  them  ;  soon 
will  they  find  all  these  objections  of  cold 
materialism  and  philosophy  melting  away 
like  frostwork,  in  the  genial  air  of  the 
sanctuary.  Let  them  once  yield  gener- 
ously to  the  holy  impulse  that  draws  them 
to  the  fair  and  gracious  "  Bride  of  the 
Lamb," — they  will  rejoice  in  her  win- 
ning beauty  arrayed  in  "garments  of  gold, 
clothed  round  about  with  varieties."  Rest- 
ing tranquilly  in  her  all-embracing  arms, 
drawing  from  her  maternal  bosom  the  di- 
vine nourishment  which  alone  can  satisfy 
their  hungry  souls,  they  will  cease  to 
wonder  at  the  diversity  of  her  gifts ;  they 
will  see  in  the  very  ease  with  which  she 
adapts  herself  to  the  innumerable  desires 
of  her  children — like  a  tender  mother  di- 
vining them  before  they  can  be  expressed 
— a  striking  proof  that  she  is,  in  truth, 
guided  by  Him  who  knows  how  to  deal 
with  the  infinite  variety  of  minds  and  dis- 
positions produced  by  His  creative  power. 
Catholic  devotion  is  indeed  limitless, 
exhaustlcss  ;  and  that  is  its  distinguishing 
glory.  It  is  a  boundless  garden  of  de- 
lights, wherein  unnmnbcred  millions  rove 
at  will,  finding  there  indissolubly  blended 
the  "  unity  "  and  "  liberty  "  of  which  St. 
Augustine  speaks,  as  well  as  the  "  charity," 
the  ever  glowing,  ever  aspiring  love  of 
God  that  brightens  and  fructifies  "all 
things."  But  of  this  the  outside  world, 
alas !  can  know  nothing.  Looking  from 
afar  they  may  behold,  with  surprise  and 
awe,  the  majestic  tree  of  faith  that  gathers 
whole  nations  beneath  its  shade;  they  may 
wonder  at  its  stateliness  and  symmetry, 
respect  its  vigorous  life,  and  admire  the 
beautiful  play  of  sunbeams  and  shadows 
among  its  countless  boughs;  but  it  is  only 
for  those  who  dwell  in  peace  beneath  its 
pleasant,  luminous  shade,  to  know  the 
exquisite  beauty  and  fragrance  of  the  wild 
flowers  that  wreathe  its  gigantic  trunk; 


AVE     MARIA. 


168 


they  nlone  may  wander  delightedly  amid 
the  endless  variety  of  blosHoms  that  faith 
and  love  have  plantiMl  ami  nurtured  over 
and  around  its  far-8i>reudiiig  roots,  tempt- 
ing all  to  gather  the  sweet  perennial  clus- 
ters that  bloom  more  luxuriantly  the  oft- 
ener  they  are  plucked. 

But,  not  to  dwell  longer  on  a  theme  so 
far  beyond  her  powers,  it  is  the  wish  of 
the  present  writer  to  group  some  of  these 
sweet  flowers — clumsily,  it  may  be,  but  yet 
with  fond,  reverent  care — in  bouquets, 
adapted,  as  far  as  practicable,  to  the  dif- 
ferent festivals  and  holy  seasons  as  they 
occur;  though  some  will  be  found  renew- 
ing their  bloom  at  various  times,  and 
others  offering  a  fresh  bud  for  every  day 
in  the  year.  Most  of  these  soul-flowers 
will,  of  course,  be  gathered  from  the  writ- 
ings of  the  saints  and  other  approved 
sources;  a  few  have  sprung  up  spontane- 
ously from  the  impulses  of  private  devotion ; 
for  there  are  few  catholics  probably  who 
do  not  make  or  adapt  for  their  own  use 
certain  little  exercises,  which  may  be 
deemed  allowable,  as  St.  Teresa  says,  "  as 
long  as  we  do  not  depart  from  what  the 
Church  holds  and  the  saints  believe." 
With  regard  to  these  latter  devotions  and 
the  thoughts  which  may  occasionally  arise 
from  the  subject,  the  collector,  while  natu- 
rally diflident  in  venturing  on  such  ground, 
gains  confidence  in  remembering  the  au- 
thority which  will  correct  and  pass  judg- 
ment on  all  ere  it  is  spread  before  the 
indulgent  readers  of  our  Blessed  Lady's 
Messenger. 

FOR  THE  HOLY  SEASON  OF  LENT. 


Devotion  to  tuk  Sacred  Facb. 


\ 


This  is,  indeed,  "a  consoling  devotion," 
says  the  pious  translator  of  the  Revelations 
of  St.  Gertrude;  "  for  we  shall  be  judged 
standing  before  the  Face  of  Christ,  but  no 
longer  the  suffering  Face.  If,  then,  we 
have  been  devout  to  it  during  life,  surely 
we  may  hope  that  it  will  look  mercifully 
and  lovingly  upon  us  when  we  stand  before 


the  judgment-seat."  Oar  Lord  has  been 
pleased  to  tench  us  one  form  of  this  devo- 
tion Himself,  through  His  favored  r|)ouso, 
St.  Gertrude.  Desiring  to  participate  in 
the  devotion  as  practised  yearly  at  Rome 
on  the  second  Sunday  after  Epiphany,  she 
represented  this  Face  to  herself  as  all  dis- 
figured by  her  sins,  and  humbly  asked 
pardon,  which  He  granted,  with  His 
blessing,  and  then  said :  "  That  you 
may  truly  amend  your  life,  I  enjoin  you 
this  satisfaction — that  each  day  during 
this  year  yon  will  perform  some  action  in 
union  with,  and  in  memory  of,  the  mercy 
by  which  I  grant  you  this  indulgence." 
The  Saint,  accepting  the  satisfaction,  but 
fearing  her  frailty,  said:  "  But  what  shall 
I  do,  O  Lord,  if  I  should  fail  in  this 
through  my  negligence?"  "Why  should 
you  fail  in  so  easy  a  matter?"  He  replied ; 
"  for  I  will  accept  the  least  thing  you  do 
with  this  intention,  if  it  be  only  to  lift  a 
pebble  or  a  straw  from  the  ground,  to  utter 
a  single  word,  to  show  kindness  to  any 
one,  to  say  the  Requiem  oBtertiam  for  the 
faithful  departed,  or  to  pray  for  sinners  or 
the  just."  St.  Gertrude  having  asked  that 
her  particular  friends  might  share  in  this, 
the  Lord  replied:  "  All  who  wish  to  share 
with  you  in  the  satisfaction  which  I  have 
imposed  on  you,  will  also  receive  a  similar 
indulgence  and  remission  of  their  sins." 
*  *  *  After  this.  He  said :  "  Oh,  what 
abundant  benedictions  I  will  pour  forth 
on  him  who  returns  to  Me  at  the  end  of 
this  year  with  works  of  charity  exceeding 
the  number  of.  his  sins  !"  But  the  Saint 
exclaimed  distrustfully:  "How  can  this 
be,  since  the  heart  of  man  is  so  prone  to 
evil,  that  scarcely  an  hour  passes  in  which 
he  does  not  sin  in  many  ways?"  Our 
Lord  replied:  "Why  should  you  think 
this  so  difticult,  when  there  are  many  things 
that  please  Me,  and  there  is  nothing,  how- 
ever diflicult,  which  My  grace  cannot  ac- 
complish.*' "Lord,"  replied  Gertrude, 
"  what  wilt  Thou  give  to  him  who  accom- 
plishes this  in  Thy  strength?"  "I  can 
give  you  no  better  answer  than  this,"  He 
replied, — "  that  I  will  give  *  What  eye 
hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  neither  hath 


154: 


AVE     MARIA. 


it  entered  into  the  licart  of  man  to  con- 
ceive.' "  *  How  happy  will  he  be  who  Ims 
practised  this  devotion  for  a  year,  or  even 
for  a  single  month,  since  he  may  expect  the 
same  reward  from  the  liberality  of  his  God  !f 

St.  Gertrude's  hesitancy  cannot  be  sup- 
posed to  have  arisen  from  any  fear  that 
she  or  her  nuns  ("a  community  of  saints," 
as  her  biographer  styles  them)  would  find 
this  devotion  too  "difficult."  What  would 
not  their  burning  love  have  undertaken 
with  alacrity  !  Rather  let  us  understand 
it  as  a  warning  counsel  for  such  lukewarm 
christians  as  ourselves ;  and  after  our 
Lord's  sweet  explanation  and  encourage- 
ment, can  the  most  miserably  tepid  among 
us  find  it  too  much  to  undertake?  The 
munificent  promises  we  may  indeed  hesi- 
tate to  apply  to  ourselves.  "We  may  say, 
they  a'-e  only  for  souls  like  Gertrude ;  it 
would  be  ridiculous  presumption  in  us 
sinners  to  expect  such  rewards  for  acts 
sullied  with  a  thousand  imperfections. 
Well  then,  we  will  renounce  the  splendid 
recompense  in  favor  of  the  saints ;  but 
shall  we  likewise  make  over  to  them  the 
devotion  that  Jesus  has  urged  so  tenderly? 
To  plead  our  unworthiness  as  an  excuse 
for  refusing  to  perform  one  of  these  little 
acts  of  kindness  every  day  in  honor  of  the 
sacred  Face  which  we  hope  (unworthy 
though  we  be)  to  behold  with  joy  in  eter- 
nity— is  this  humility  or  sloth  ? 

Our  Lord  was  farther  pleased  to  promise : 
"  All  those  who  meditate  frequently  on 
My  Divine  Face,  attracted  by  the  desires 
of  love,  shall  receive  within  them,  by  the 
virtue  of  My  Humanity,  a  bright  ray  of  My 
Divinity,  which  shall  enlighten  their  in- 
most souls,  so  that  they  shall  reflect  the 
light  of  My  countenance  in  a  special 
manner  in  eternity." 

How  touchingly  the  prophet  describes 


*  1.  Cor.  ii,  9. 

f  "Life  and  Revelations  of  St.  Gertrude,  by  a 
Religious  of  the  Order  of  Poor  Clares."  London, 
1805.  In  this  and  succeeding  quotations  from  this 
work — a  volume  of  wonders — the  text  will  be  fol- 
lowed as  closely  as  space  will  permit,  the  words  of 
our  Saviour  and  the  Saint  being  in  every  case  ex- 
actly copied. 


the  condition  to  which  that  countenance, 
"the  most  beautiful  among  the  children  of 
men,"  was  reduced  by  our  sins :  "  There 
is  no  beauty  in  Him,  nor  comeliness :  and 
we  have  seen  Him,  and  there  was  no  sight- 
liness, that  we  should  be  desirous  of  Him: 
despised,  and  the  most  abject  of  men,  a 
Man  of  sorrows,  and  acquainted  with  in- 
firmity: and  His  look  was  as  it  were 
hidden  and  despised;  whereupon  we  es- 
teemed Him  not.  Surely  He  hath  borne 
our  infirmities,  and  cjirried  our  sorrows ; 
and  we  have  thought  Him  as  it  were  a 
leper,  and  as  one  struck  by  God,  and  af- 
flicted."* Cold  indeed  must  be  the  heart 
which  cannot  find  subject  for  loving,  grate- 
ful reflections,  in  this  picture. 

M.  L.  M. 
[to  bs  continued.] 

*  Is.  liii. 


The  Stable  at  Bethlehem  as  it  is  To- 
day.— The  spot  where  our  dear  Saviour 
was  born  is  situated  about  200  yards 
southward  of  Bethlehem.  It  is  a  grotto 
hewed  in  soft  rock,  thirty-eight  feet  long, 
eleven  wide  and  nine  high.  Three  pil- 
lars of  porphyry  support  the  vault.  In 
the  middle  is  a  kind  of  niche,  which  is  di- 
vided into  two  parts  by  an  altar  sufli- 
ciently  large  for  the  celebration  of  Mass. 
On  this  altar  thirty-two  lamps  burn  con- 
tinually night  and  day.  Costly  marble, 
bestowed  by  St.  Helena,  covers  the  rocks 
and  pavement  of  the  cave.  At  its  farther 
end,  towards  the  east,  is  the  spot  where 
the  ever  Blessed  Virgin  brought  forth  the 
Saviour  of  the  world.  This  spot,  lighted 
by  sixteen  lamps,  is  marked  by  a  slab  of 
white  marble  fixed  in  the  pavement  and 
lined  with  jasper,  in  the  centre  of  which  is  a 
silver  sun,  surrounded  with  the  inscription, 
"Hie  de  Virgine  Maria  Jesus  Christus 
natus  est."  "  Here  Jesus  Christ  was  born 
of  the  Virgin  Mary."  Over  this  is  placed  a 
marble  slab  serving  for  an  altar.  The  divine 
Infant,  after  His  birth,  was  placed  in  a  man- 
ger now  preserved  at  Rome,  but  the  place 
where  it  stood  is  marked,  a  little  lower 
down,  by  another  manger  of  white  marble. 


AVE     MARIA. 


156 


The  Five  Hoonds. 


FlUDAT   AKTKR  THK  ThIRD  SCHDAT  OF  LeKT. 


Our  heavy -lidded  eyes,  with  weeping  dim, — 
Scarce  will  they  let  us  hxik  upon  our  work, 
On  Him  our  sins  have  slain — 
The  detitl  Christ  'neath  the  Cross. 

Helpless  He  rests  upon  His  Mother's  breast; 

The  slant  rays  of  the  slowly  sinking  sun 
Glance  on  His  ]>allid  limbs 
Dark  seamed  with  crimson  stains. 

The  passive  hands — ne'er  lifted  but  to  bless, 
To  heal  with  gentlest  touch  all  human  woes, 
Or  with  grave  tenderness 
Laid  on  some  childish  head : — 

The  wearied  feet — that  followed  far  and  long, 
Through  the  wide  wilderness  His  straying  sheep, 

Whose  wilftil  steps  yet  sought 

To  wander  farther  still : — 

Pierced,  wounded,  crucified !  Hour  after  hour, 
His  slow  life-blood  was  drained  from  each  dear 
wound ; 

Yet  love  unsatisfied. 

Love  victor  over  death, 

Would  give  the  last  drops  from  the  lifeless  Heart, 
That  loved  as  never  heart  had  loved  before, 

And  wooed  the  cruel  spear 

To  open  wide  the  way. 

Oh,  last  and  best,  and  dearest  proof  of  love, 
All  pathos,  and  all  tenderness  divine 

Is  hidden  in  the  depths 

Of  Jesus'  wounded  side. 

And  ever  and  for  evermore  wide  ope. 
The  earth's  one  sanctuary  from  all  ill, 

Where  all  may  enter  in. 

To  Jesus'  Sacred  Heart.  R.  V.  R. 


None  feels  friemlsliip  more  tenderly 
and  aflfectionately  than  I  do,  none  feels  a 
separation  more  keenly:  yet,  I  hold  this 
our  present  life  in  so  little  account,  that  I 
never  turn  to  my  Lord  with  a  more  intense 
feeling  of  love,  than  when  lie  has  smitten 
me,  or  has  permitted  a  blow  to  fall  upon 
me. — St.  J^ancis  de  Sales. 


THE  FLEM1MIN(^8. 


BT    MRS.     ANNA    H.     DOBBKT. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Mrs.   Flemming   is   thankful    for    the 

Prosperity   and  Happiness  of 

UER  Family. 

"  Yes,  I  will  pray  on,  hoping  for  light," 
said  Flemming  in  his  grave  level  tones. 
"  So  far  my  prayers  are  unanswered  ;  I  have 
knocked,  but  the  door  remains  closed  ;  and 
the  end  of  it  all  is  that  my  spiritual  life  is 
full  of  discord.  In  the  p<ages  of  the 
*  word,'  where  I  found  only  peace,  I  dis- 
cover contradictions  which  so  confound 
me  that  I  sometimes  wonder  if  I  have 
risked  my  soul  on  a  lie." 

Wolfert  Flemming's  mental  condition 
is  one  not  at  all  uncommon  to  thinking 
religious  minds  outside  the  One  True 
Fold,  though  there  be  only  a  few  who  are 
honest  enough  to  admit  the  fact  in  regard 
to  their  own  individual  experience  ;  they 
go  stumbling  on  over  their  doubts  and 
misgivings,  and  search  the  Scriptures  dili- 
gently only  to  find  outside  of  the  texts  on 
which  their  own  peculiar  doctrines  are 
founded,  things  hard  to  be  understood, 
and  an  apparent  authority  for  contradic- 
tory belief,  with  a  strange  want  of  har- 
mony which  perplexes  and  dismays  them. 
How  should  they — who  have  always  been 
taught  that  it  is  a  false,  idolatrous  creed — 
know  that  it  is  only  in  the  Holy  Catholic 
Church,  which  acknowledges  the  eternal 
and  indissoluble  unity  of  one  Lord,  one 
Faith,  one  Baptism,  that  the  integrity  of  the 
Scriptures  is  preserved  intact,  that  their  un- 
broken harmony  like  golden  links  stretch 
from  the  promise,  given  by  almighty  God  to 
ourfirst  parents,  of  a  Redeemer,  down  to  the 
birth  of  Jesus  Christ  in  the  stable  at  Beth- 
lehem ;  from  the  manger  to  tlie  cross, 
from  the  cross  unto  the  end  of  time,  from 
time  into  a  boundless  and  infinitely  glori- 
ous eternity  ?    To  the  true  believer  there 


156 


AVE     MARIA 


is  no  discord  in  the  Holy  Scriptures,  for 
his  is  no  ephemeral  belief  in  an  amateur 
religion  founded  for  the  glorification  and 
selfish  ends  of  man,  but  a  science  of  eter- 
nal principles  coming  from  God  Himself, 
sealed  by  the  precious  blood  of  His  Son, 
and  vivified  by  the  Holy  Ghost  who  abid- 
eth  with  it ;  a  faith  whose  commission  of 
authority  is  divine,  whose  interpretations 
are  infallible,  founded  upon  a  rock  against 
which  the  gates  of  hell  can  never  prevail ; 
which — immutable,  unchangeable,  and  un- 
shaken after  the  tempests  and  buffeting  of 
nearly  nineteen  centuries — stands  as  firm 
as  the  everlasting  hills,  more  glorious 
and  beautiful  than  the  sun,  her  battlements 
glittering  with  the  souls  she  has  won,  her 
watch-towers  enlightening  the  ends  of  the 
earth  ;  awaiting  the  consummation  of  time 
to  ascend  in  triumph  with  her  spoils  and 
conquests  into  the  eternal  heavens. 

Our  good  Puritan  knew  nothing  of  this 
True  Faith  ;  he  had  heard  and  read  of  a 
monstrous  and  devilish  system  called  po- 
pery, worse  than  the  creed  of  Buddha, 
more  infamous  than  the  priestcraft  of 
Egypt ;  a  thing  so  full  of  the  abomination 
of  desolation,  so  corrupt  and  antichristian 
in  its  tendencies  that  it  sickened  his  up- 
right soul  and  made  him  wonder  at  the 
great  patience  of  almighty  God  in  bearing 
with  it;  but  beyond  this  mistaken  view 
he  knew  nothing ;  he  was  as  ignorant  as 
any  pagan  in  the  jungles  of  India  of  the 
one  true  Catholic  Church,  its  Faith,  Creed, 
Dogmas,  Precepts  and  usages.  He  was 
only  one  of  many  God-fearing,  truth-seek- 
ing men,  who  like  Saul  of  Tarsus  think 
they  are  best  serving  God  when  in  their 
blindness  they  rage  against  His  Church. 
He  had  the  Bible  for  his  guide,  but  we  see 
how  sorely  he  was  confused  in  a  labyrinth 
of  which  he  held  not  the  clue. 

"  These  are  temptations,  Wolfert,"  said 
the  old  minister,  laying  his  hand  upon 
the  bowed  head  of  the  strong  man  ;  "  but 
keep  them  from  the  knowledge  of  your 
family,  lest  you  scandalize  the  weak  and 
unregenerate  of  your  own  household;  and 
pray,  pray  without  ceasing." 

Jacob,  overwearied  with  fatigue  in  his 


journey  to  Mesopotamia,  took  a  stone  and 
laying  it  under  his  head  slept  there  and 
had  a  glorious  vision  of  angels,  and  when 
he  awaked  out  of  his  sleep  he  said  :  "  In- 
deed the  Lord  is  in  this  place  and  I  knew 
it  not."*  So  was  it  with  this  man  who 
with  earnest  purpose  rested  on  the  Scrip- 
tures, which,  now  more  comfortless  than 
a  stone,  would  by-and-by  become  the  very 
gate  of  heaven  to  him. 

Mrs.  Flemming  came  in  to  invite  them 
out  to  dinner,  and  her  beaming  smile  was 
somewhat  checked  when  she  noted  the 
stern  and  troubled  expression  on  the  coun- 
tenances of  her  husband  and  the  minister; 
but  she  at  once  imagined  in  her  quick  con- 
clusive way  that  they  had  been  deep  in 
grave  religious  discussions,  which  ac- 
counted for  it  very  satisfactorily  to  her 
mind,  for  it  was  utterly  impossible  for  her 
ever  to  disassociate  religion  with  a  stern 
gravity ;  and  except  that  she  straightened 
herself  up  a  little  to  meet  the  emergency, 
she  gave  herself  no  trouble  about  it,  and 
thought  they  were  both  saints.  The  young 
people  were  having  a  cheerful  time  around 
the  bright  hearth  of  the  old  room,  judging 
from  the  hum  and  laughter  that  came 
sounding  through  the  open  doors ;  but  it 
smote  upon  Father  Ray's  ears  so  grat- 
ingly that  when  he  came  in  his  counte- 
nance wore  a  severe  and  displeased  look, 
which  passed  over  the  blithesome  and  in- 
nocent young  hearts  like  a  cold  wave, 
chilling  them  into  sudden  silence. 

"  It  is  all  levity,"  he  thought ;  "  they 
are  children  of  the  devil,  and  what  right 
have  they  to  be  laughing  on  the  brink  of 
woe."  Then  he  looked  around  at  the 
handsome  comely  young  faces,  all  drawn 
down  into  a  serious  silence  which  was  a 
revolt  against  nature  and  innocence,  while 
in  their  hearts  they  were  thinking  '  how 
unlovely  religion  is ;"  then,  as  if  satisfied 
with  tliis  outward  seeming,  he  folded  his 
hands,  and  closing  his  eyes  began  to 
"  offer  thanks."  It  was  a  long  grace, 
more  full  of  reproof  than  of  thankfulness 
for  blessings  received,  which  gave  tiie  tur- 


*  Genesis,  xxvili. 


AVE     MARIA. 


157 


key  and  other  viands  time  to  cool,  while 
the  mouths  of  the  wliolesomo  liungry 
youn;^  folks  watered;  and  Georjje  Merrill 
wondered  if  a  harpy  or  something  would 
not  fly  down  and  seize  the  good  things  be- 
fore his  grandfather  got  through.  But 
no;  he  finished,  and  in  solemn  silence  on 
their  part  the  dinner  was  eaten.  They 
ate,  and  that  was  all  they  could  do;  for 
the  Elder,  the  minister  and  Mrs.  Flem- 
ming  got  into  a  talk  about  religious  af- 
fjiirs  in  which  "justification  by  faith"  antl 
"  free  agency "  were  gravely  discussed, 
which  quite  extinguished  their  spirits. 
Nicholas  whispered:  "I  wish  that  ped- 
dler fellow  was  here.  Wouldn't  it  be 
iun  ?"  at  which  a  contraband  giggle  was 
heard  for  an  instant  but  as  instantly  hushed. 
The  "  peddler  fellow  "  had  been  the  sub- 
ject of  their  conversation  before  dinner, 
and  their  hearty  laughter  had  been  over 
the  recollection  of  his  pleasantries,  blun- 
ders and  songs;  but  the  audacity  of  Nich- 
olas suggested  a  situation  too  ludicrous 
for  their  gravity  even  under  the  awful  re- 
straints of  Father  Kay's  presence.  But 
everything  comes  to  an  end,  and  so  did 
tli!5  dinner;  after  which  the  Elder  and  his 
wife,  with  their  reverend  guest,  sat  round 
the  broad  cheerful  hearth  of  the  quaint  old 
room,  while  the  young  people  went  away 
into  the  new  part  of  the  house  and  took 
possession  of  "the  ])est  one,"  and  enjoyed 
themselves. 

George  Merrill  thought  Eva  more  lovely 
than  he  had  imagined;  every  movement  was 
full  of  unrestraine<l  grace;  her  intelligent 
mind  gave  animation  and  interest  to  all  she 
said,  and  there  was  over  it  all  an  expression 
of  innate  purity  which  made  her  strangely 
beautiful,  and  he  resolved  that  he  would 
ofter  himself  to  her  before  he  went  back 
to  Boston.  Father  Kay,  when  he  took 
leave,  "admonished  each  one  to  give  up 
the  vanities  of  the  world,  and  declared 
that  it  was  their  own  perversity  and  hard- 
heartedness  that  kept  them  from  being 
converted."  Said  he  :  "You  harden  your 
hearts  and  stiffen  your  necks,  and  by-and- 
by  you  will  be  abandoned  by  the  still 
small   voice,    unless   you   repent."     Mrs. 


Flemming  sighed  a  genuine  sigh  from  the 
depths  of  her  motherly  heart  over  her  chil 
dren ;  the  Elder  looked  on  the  sweet  corn*-- 
ly  faces  of  his  (laughters  and  the  brave 
handsome  ones  of  hn  boys,  and  thought 
that  there  was  indeed  "but  one  thing  need- 
ful "  to  make  them  perfect — but  wished 
that  the  stern  old  preacher  would  try  and 
make  religion  a  more  winning  and  lovely 
thing  to  them  ;  for  his  heart  yearned  ten- 
derly over  them,  and  it  was  his  first  and 
only  prayer  for  them  that  they  might  be- 
come true  and  faithful  servants  of  God. 

That  evening  the  Elder  and  his  wife  sat 
talking  o\qy  the  fire — the  young  people 
having  gone  off  in  a  sleigh  to  the  old  meet- 
ing-house, a  mile  distant,  to  attend  the 
singing  class.  They  were  quite  alone. 
Said  Mrs.  Flemming: 

"  I  think,  father,  we  ouglit  to  feel  very 
thankful.  God  has  prospered  us  abund- 
antly, and  our  home  here  is  happier  than 
most.  Indeed,  I  often  wonder  if  many 
liave  been  as  happily  matched  and  mated 
as  we  two." 

"I'm  afraid  there  are  not  many,  little 
wife ;  more's  the  pity.  Yes,  as  you  say, 
we  have  reason  to  be  thankful,  and  I  hope 
that  we  are  so,"  said  the  Elder  smoothing 
her  hair. 

"  And  I'll  tell  you  what,  father,"  she 
went  on,  "  I  think  our  children  will  be 
happy  too;  they  are  handsome  and  thrifty, 
altho'  I  say  it  who  oughtn't;  and  they  arc 
going  to  marry  so  suitably,  and  will  have 
none  of  that  rough  close  struggle  that 
most  young  couples  have.  Deacon  Sneath- 
en's  a  well-to-do  man,  and  Iluldah  is  a 
good,  managing,  natty  girl,  and  will  make 
Nick  a  good  wife;,  then,  John  Wilde — I 
don't  know  a  better  young  man — you  know 
that  he  is  rich;  leastways  he's  got  the  big- 
gest and  best  stocked  farm  in  these  parts, 
and  will  be  a  good  husband  to  Hope,  depend 
upon  that.  And  I  am  sure  that  George 
Merrill  will  ask  P^va;  I  saw  it  in  his  eyes 
to-day  if  I  ever  saw  anything." 

"  What  a  clever  little  mother  it  is," 
said  the  Elder  smiling;  "and  what  a  proud 
one  you'll  be  to  sit  down  among  your  chil- 
dren  and   grandchildren    some    of    these 


168 


AVE     MARIA. 


Thanksgiving-days.  Butyou  are  mistaken, 
it  is  likely,  about  George  Merrill ;  he  will 
want  a  city  Avife,  and  don't  you  see  that 
he's  a  bit  of  a  dandy  ?" 

"  He  may  be  that ;  but  if  he's  not  head 
over  ears  in  love  with  Eva  I  never  was  so 
deceived  in  all  my  life,"  said  Mrs.  Flem- 
ming,  poking  up  the  fire  with  the  tongs. 

"  It  would  be  a  good  match,  a  very  suit- 
able match,"  replied  her  husband  compla- 
cently. "  Only  I  should  not  like  Eva  to 
go  so  far  off." 

"  Neither  should  I ;  but  such  things  are 
to  be  expected,  and  it  would  be  selfish  to 
stand  in  the  way  of  her  happiness  and  in- 
terest if  she  likes  him,"  answered  Mrs. 
Flemming. 

"  That  is  very  true.  Why,  mother,  the 
old  home  will  be  very  empty  and  lonely 
for  us  when  they  all  go.  I  think  we 
shall  have  to  fetch  Huldah  and  Nicholas 
to  live  with  us." 

"  It  is  time  enough  to  think  of  that, 
father.  It  woidd  be  very  lonesome ;  but, 
to  my  thinking,  young  people  are  best  off 
to  themselves,  in  their  own  house.  Moth- 
ers-in-law Jind  daughters-in-law  oftener 
than  not  get  to  hate  each  other,  and  I 
shouldn't  like  Nick's  wife  to  hate  me. 
I'm  afraid  that  your  plan  won't  answer ; 
I've  been  mistress  here  too  l)ng." 

"  And  shall  be  to  the  end,  my  good 
faithful  little  wife  and  helpmate.  As  long 
as  you  live  this  house  is  your  kingdom," 
he  said  fondly,  while  a  warm  glow  of  hap- 
piness passed  over  her  fixce,  softening 
away  every  hard  line  until  the  beauty  of 
her  youth  seemed  given  back  to  her  for  a 
few  moments ; — then  : 

"  It  will  be  pleasant,  I  guess,  to  have 
them  all  coming  to  see  ns,  father;  and 
you  know  we  shall  have  Reuben  all  the 
time." 

"  Our  poor  Reuben  !  I  fear  that  his  life 
will  be  spent  uselessly.  I  can't  imagine 
what  he  will  do,"  sighed  the  Elder,  while 
his  heavy  eyebrows  lowered. 

"  Ah  well !  there  is  no  use  fretting  our 
hearts  to  fiddle-strings  over  Reuben.  I 
dare  say  something  will  turn  tip  to  suit 
him,"  replied  she,  also  sighing.     "But  I 


feel  pretty  well   tuckered   out,  and  shall 
go  to  bed." 

That  night,  after  Hope  and  Eva  got 
home,  they  sat  together  on  the  hearth  rug, 
reluctant  to  leave  the  warmth  and  glow  of 
the  fire,  so  grateful  to  their  half-benumbed 
feet  after  their  cold  ride — talking  over  the 
evening  after  the  manner  of  young  girls: 
"  I  think,"  said  Hope,  *'  that  George 
Merrill  is  very  handsome." 

"  Yes,  George  is  good-looking.  I  don't 
think  the  city  has  changed  him  much," 
replied  Eva  in  a  tone  of  unconcern. 

"  You  seem  very  indifferent,"  said  Hope 
teasingly. 

"  No,    I   am    not  indifferent.      I    like 
George — " 

"Aha!  sol  thought!" 

"  As  a  friend.     We  were  plajTuates  at 
school  you  know,  Hope,  and  I  liked  him 
then  just  as  I  did  Nick  and  Reuben;  and 
I  like  him   so  now,"  answered  Eva  seri-' 
ously." 

"Well,  I  guess  that's  something;  but 
good  nig^it,  I  have  to  be  up  betimes  in 
the  morning.  I  should  like  to  sit  here  all 
night  if  it  were  not  for  that,"  said  Hope, 
getting  up  to  begin  her  preparations  for 
rest — "good  night;  tell  me  all  about  the 
pictures  you  find  in  the  coals.  Poor  Ru- 
by's pictures!"  And  Hope  blessed  her 
sister's  fair  upturned  ftice;  then  with  a 
sudden  impulse  she  placed  her  hands  on 
each  side  of  her  head,  and  pressed  her 
cheek  lightly  on  her  golden  hair.  Soon 
Hope's  low,  soft  breathing  told  she  was 
asle(?p ;  but  Eva  still  sat  motionless  on  the 
rug,  lost  in  thought.  Presently  she  reached 
out  her  hand  and  took  her  Bible  from  a 
small  work-table  standing  near,  opened  it 
and  drew  out  the  picture  of  "  the  crucifix- 
ion," the  keepsake  of  Patrick  McCue, — 
and  gazed,  her  eyes  full  of  deep  thought, 
her  heart  stirring  to  strangC  pulsations, 
upon  it.  The  picture  and  she  who  stood 
beside  the  Cross  ever  haunted  her.  Like 
the  aerial  echoes  of  Killarney,  which  con- 
tinue to  float  and  repeat  in  clear  sweet 
musical  cadences  the  notes  of  the  instru- 
ment which  evoked  them,  long  after  it  has 
ceased,    so   through    the   pure   and    quiet 


AVE      MARIA. 


169 


realms  of  this  yonntj  pirl's  mind  flontcd 
over  ami  ever,  no  matter  wlicro  she  was  or 
what  she  was  iloini;,  the  thought  of  the 
Virgin  3Iother;  and  all  of  her  thoughts 
converged  to  the  question:  Who  was  she? 
She  ha«l  never  thought  of  her  before,  be- 
yond the  natural  fact  of  her  being  the 
Mother  of  Jesus.  She  had  read  of  august 
mothers :  the  mother  of  Moses,  the  mother 
of  the  Gracchi,  the  mother  of  Washington, 
and  many  other  noble  and  true  mothers 
M'hoso  virtues  she  admired  and  revered. 
She  had  also  read  of  mothers  whose  sor- 
row could  not  be  thought  of  without  tears : 
she  had  wept  over  the  grief  of  Hecuba; 
her  soul  had  glowed  with  a  sort  of  burn- 
ing ire  and  pity  at  the  sevenfold  martyr- 
dom of  the  mother  of  the  Machabees;  she 
had  lamented  with  the  mothers  of  Bethle- 
hem over  their  slaughtered  innocents;  but 
the  Mother  of  Jesus !  it  actually  seemed 
something  new  to  her,  now  she  came  to 
think  of  it  that  this  holy  Mother  was  not 
a  myth,  but  an  actual  mother,  who  had 
lived  and  suffered.  She  had  never  thought 
of  her  before,  and  had  felt  no  more  vener- 
ation for  her  than  for  other  women;  the 
mother  of  Washington  had  stood  far  above 
this  lowly  Virgin  Mother,  who  was  alto- 
gether subordinate  and  lost  sight  of  in  the 
life  of  her  Divine  Son;  but  now  she  began 
to  have  deep  thoughts,  which  would  not  let 
her  alone,  and  being  possessed  of  a  clear 
analytical  brain  and  keen  womanly  per- 
ceptions, it  is  not  strange  that  she  should 
want  to  study  out  the  problem  that  haunted 
her.  And  even  after  she  laid  her  head 
upon  her  pillow,  instead  of  dropping  off 
to  sleep  she  got  to  wondering  how  this 
Mother  could  only  stand  weej)ing  an<l  suf- 
fering by  the  Cross  upon  which  her  sinless 
Sou  was  expiring  in  cruel  torments,  when 
it  seemed  oidy  human  that  she  should  have 
died  in  a  sublime  endeavor  to  <lefend  and 
shield  Him;  then  she  thought  over  all  the 
mothers  she  knew,  and  there  was  not  one 
of  them,  she  was  morally  sure,  who  if  they 
could  not  have  rescued  their  child  from 
his  inhuman  enemies,  but  would  at  least 
have  died  in  the  effort.  But  this  Mother! 
unlike  any  other,  accej)ted  the  wrongs  and 


ignominies  of  her  Son  with  passive  endu- 
rance without  lifting  hand  or  voice  to  pro- 
test against  the  injustice  of  His  persecu- 
tors and  the  wanton  cruelty  of  His  tor- 
ments. "  There  must  be,"  she  thought,  "  a 
reason  for  this,  a  mystery  which  she  could 
not  understand,"  but  she  determined  to 
begin,  the  very  next  morning,  at  the  first 
chapter  of  Genesis,  and  search  carefully 
through  every  line  and  verse  of  Holy  Writ, 
down  to  the  last  word  in  Revelations,  to 
see  if  she  could  make  it  out.  Then  it 
seemed  strange  to  her  that  she  had  never 
felt  the  least  reverence  for  her  who  was 
the  Mother  of  Jesus,  because  she  was  His 
Mother.  The  mother  of  Washington  was 
reverenced  next  to  himself  in  the  American 
mind;  but  here  was  the  Mother  of  the  Sa- 
viour of  the  world,  scarcely  known,  never 
venerated,  never  spoken  of,  and  held  in 
the  lowest  esteem  of  all  the  holy  women 
named  in  the  Bible.  Eva  could  not  make 
it  out,  but  fell  asleep  murmuring  "unlike 
other  mothers." 

Unlike  other  mothers  !  Yes  !  promised 
from  the  beginning,  this  Virgin  Mother 
was  unlike  all  others;  this  second  Eve, 
through  whom  the  fault  of  the  first  Eve 
was  to  be  repaired ;  this  gate  through 
which  the  King  of  glory  was  to  enter ;  this 
Virgin  expected,  and  sung,  by  patriarchs 
and  prophets,  to  whom  an  archangel  was 
sent  with  wondrous  message  from  the 
Most  High;  this  Mother  to  whom  Simeon 
prophesied  that  a  "  sword  of  grief  should 
pierce  her  soul."  Yes,  truly  was  she  unlike 
any  mother  the  world  ever  saw;  elect  from 
all  eternity;  sinless  in  her  conception  and 
birth;  a  virgin  mother;  spouse,  daughter, 
and  Mother  of  her  Divine  Son;  a  martyr 
above  all  martyrs,  while  He  was  the  victim 
for  all  sin  ;  and  for  what?  That  the  world 
might  be  redeemed.  Her  Son  had  "to  be 
about  His  Father's  business;"  the  time 
had  come  when  all  was  to  be  accomplished; 
therefore  did  she  stand  dumb  and  passive 
in  her  woe,  bearing  in  her  soul  the  cruel 
wounds  and  bitter  torments  of  His  body; 
therefore  had  she  strength  to  see  Him  die ; 
every  nerve  and  fibre  of  her  being  pulsing 
with    the    dread     sword-thrust    of    grief 


160 


AVE      MARIA. 


throughout  Ilis  dolorous  Passion;  shuriiig 
every  pang,  immolating  her  nature,  and 
offering  with  Ilim  the  sacrifice  of  soul  and 
body,  that  the  great  work  of  Redemption 
might  be  accomplished. 

Eva's  thoughts  of  the  Blessed  Virgin 
Mother  were  like  the  fibres  of  a  root  in  a 
dark  place,  stretching  tliemselves  towards 
a  slender  thread  of  light  coming  through 
a  narrow  crevice,  unknowing  of  the  bound- 
less wealth  of  sunshine  and  dew  outside 
its  prison  bounds ;  or  like  a  mountain  pool, 
into  whose  depths  a  rare  jewel  is  dropped 
and  hidden  by  the  ripple  made  by  its  fall, 
until  presently  its  ruffled,  pulsations  sub- 
side, and  the  sun  gleaming  down  into  the 
clear  transparent  dei)ths,  flaslies  into  the 
heart  of  the  gem  like  a  tongue  of  fire. 

[to  bk  contintjed.] 


<  »  ♦  «  > 


Profession  axd  Reception'. — On  Sun- 
day, the  14th  inst.,  in  the  chapel  of  the 
Ursuline  Convent,  Brown  county,  Ohio, 
Miss  Catherine  Murphy,  in  religion  Sis- 
ter M.  Louise,  a  native  of  Ireland;  and 
Miss  Marie  Portail,  in  religion  Sister 
Veronica,  a  native  of  France,  made  their 
vows  at  Mass  and  received  the  black  veil. 

In  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day,  the 
Right  Rev.  Bishop  of  Louisville  gave  the 
wliite  veil  to  Miss  Libby  McMahon,  of 
Illinois,  in  religion  Sister  Raphael,  and 
to  Miss  Lucie  Borgess,  of  Cincinnati,  in 
religion.  Sister  Mary  de  Nice.  Tlie  Very 
Rev.  Edward  Purcell  preached. —  Catholic 
Telegraph. 


The  Pope  drives  daily,  and  is  looking  re- 
markably well.  He  went  out  to  the  Pincian 
and  walked  there  some  last  week,  and  was 
admirably  received  by  the  numerous  visitors 
of  every  nation  who  hai)pened  to  be  there. 
The  Carnival  season  has  fairly  begun,  and 
the  great  Roman  houses  are  opening  their 
salons  with  their  usual  hospitality.  The 
Zouave  officers  are  regularly  invited  to  al- 
most all  the  reunioiis. 

Rome  itself  is  perfectly  quiet,  and  never 
was  there  less  discontent  or  more  prosper- 


ity. Work  is  plentiful,  wages  excellent, 
and  food  not  extravagantly  dear,  consider- 
ing the  small  circle  of  territory  remaining 
to  the  Pope.  Oil,  bread,  and  meat  are  on 
the  whole  cheaper  than  last  year,  and  the 
population  have  only  one  fear — viz.,  that  of 
annexation,  and  of  being  reduced  to  the 
same  condition  as  their  surrounding  neigh- 
bors. As  for  Garibaldian  agitation,  it 
has  completely  died  out  in  Rome,  and  it  is 
presumable  that  the  National  Committee 
has  received  honorable  interment  as  it  has 
not  lately  given  tokens  of  life. 

Madame  de  Sartiges,  the  wife  of  the  late 
French  Ambassador,  has  been  received  into 
the  Church  since  her  departure  from  Rome. 
—  Cor.  Jjondon  Register. 


Regeneeated  Italy. —  To  the  Editor  of 
the  London  Tablet :  Sir — I  send  you  the 
subjoined  extract,  lest  perchance  you  may 
otherwise  overlook  it.  ^  JJ'Univers  has 
lately  copied  from  the  TAherta  Cattolica 
the  following  statistics,  which  were  pub- 
lished on  the  14th  August,  1861  : — 

Executions  by  order  of  the  Piedmontese 
Government  in  the  Neapolitan  provinces 
between  September,  1860,  and  May  1861 : 
1,841  shot  instantly. 
7,127   do.    after  a  few  hours. 
64  do.,  priests. 
22   do.,  monks. 

60   infants,  )  i  -n    ^ 
■  o  '  v  killed. 

48  women,  \ 


9,162 


10,604  wounded. 
6,112  prisoners. 
918  houses  burnt  down. 
5  villages  burnt  down. 
2,903  families  turned  adrift. 

12  churches  pillaged. 
13,620  arrests!!! 


34,1 74  in  this  second  class  of  peccadillos ! 


Pretty  well  this  in  six  months  for  the 
much-praised — by  English  press — regener- 
ated Italian  Government. 


AVE   MARIA. 

3^  (EathoUc  ;3)ouvnal  ricrotcdta  the  |touot  of  the  pr^jid  ?l1t()itt, 


Yol.  V. 


NOTBE  DAME.  INDIAHA,  MABOH  13.  1869. 


Ho.  U. 


BLOSSOMS  OF  FAITH  AND  LOVE; 

OR, 

Bonqiets  for  e?f  ry  Season. 


"  Be  liberal  towards  God,  and  God  will  in  return 
deal  liberally  towards  you." 


FOR  THE  HOLY  SEASON  OF  LENT. 

IL — Thb  Corporal  Works  of  Mekct   Spirit- 
c.u,LT  Performed. 

On  the  Monday  after  the  first  Sunday  in 
Lent,  as  these  words  were  read  in  the  Gos- 
pel, "  Come,  ye  blessed  of  My  Father ;  *  * 
for  I  was  hungry,  «fec.,"  St.  Gertrude  said 
to  our  Lord  :  "  O,  my  Lord,  since  we  can- 
not feed  the  hungry  and  give  drink  to  the 
thirsty,  because  our  rule  forbids  us  to  pos- 
sess anything  of  our  own,  teach  me  how 
we  may  participate  in  the  sweet  blessings 
with  which  Thou  liast  promised  in  this 
Gospel  to  reward  works  of  mercy."  Our 
Lord  replied: 

"  As  I  am  the  salvation  and  life  of  the 
soul,  and  as  I  continually  hunger  and 
thirst  for  the  salvation  of  men,  if  you  en- 
deavor to  study  some  words  of  Scripture 
every  day  for  the  benefit  of  others,  you 
will  bestow  on  Me  a  most  sweet  reflection. 
If  you  read  with,  the  intention  of  obtain- 
ing the  grace  of  compunction  or  devotion, 
you  appease  My  thirst  by  giving  Me  an 
agreeable  beverage  to  drink.  If  you  em- 
ploy yourself  in  recollection  for  an  hour 
each  day,  you  give  Me  hospitality;  and  if 
you  apply  yourself  daily  to  acquire  some 
new  virtue,  you  clothe  Me.  You  visit  Me 
when  sick,  by  striving  to  overcome  tempt- 
ation and  to  conquer  your  evil  inclina- 
tions ;   and   you  visit  rae   in   prison  and 


solace  My  afflictions  with  the  sweetest 
consolations,  when  you  pray  for  sinners 
and  for  the  souls  in  purgatory."  He 
added  :  "  Those  who  perform  these  devo- 
tions daily  for  My  love,  especially  during 
the  holy  season  of  Lent,  will  most  cer- 
tainly receive  the  tenderest  and  most 
bountiful  recompense  which  My  iucompre- 
hensible  omnipotence.  My  inscrutable  wis- 
dom, and  My  most  loving  benevolence 
can  bestow." 

This  divine  lesson  was  surely  not  in- 
tended only  for  holy,  cloistered  servants 
of  God,  since  it  seems  equally  applicable 
to  all,  and  especially  consoling  for  those 
who,  ardently  wishing  to  perform  all  the 
works  of  charity,  have  seldom  the  means 
or  opportunity  of  doing  so.  It  will  be 
remembered  that  St.  Gertrude  was  partic- 
ularly given  to  the  study  of  the  Holy 
Scriptures.  Ordinary  christians  will  prob- 
ably rather  seek  in  such  works  as  the  JFol- 
lowing  of  Christ,  ifec,  useful  lessons  for 
their  own  guidance  and  "  for  the  benefit 
of  others,"  particularly  those  under  their 
care.  In  choosing  the  book  most  adapted 
to  our  spiritual  wants,  our  confessor 
should  be  consulted.  This  we  all  know, 
but  in  practice  how  often  do  we  remenii>er 
it?  It  is  a  strange  thing  how  prone  we 
are,  even  when  most  sincerely  desiring  to 
serve  God  und  save  our  souls,  to  grope 
blindly  along  the  path  and  stumble  over 
innumerable  obstacles,  finding  all  our 
thinking  and  resolving  of  so  little  use  that 
presently  we  begin  to  despair  of  ever  do- 
ing anything ;  and  all  for  the  want  of 
asking  now  and  then  proper  advice  as 
to  the  plans  or  resolutions  we  have 
adopted,  or  wish  to  adopt.  "  I  have  said 
oh  ever  so  many  prayers,"  say  some,  "  for 


162 


AVE     MARIA. 


grace  to  correct  this  defect,  or  aquire  that 
virtue,  and  'tis  all  labor  in  vain."  As  if 
they  did  not  know  that  one  little  prayer 
which  their  confessor  would  tell  them  to 
say  would  give  them  the  grace  they  seek, 
besides  the  merit  oi' obedience — that  virtue 
in  which  Amerk-an  catholics  so  seldom 
show  themselves  proficient,  yet  which  is 
more  pleasing  to  God  than  all  other  good 
works,  St.  Catherine  of  Bologna  has  said, 
and  "  the  short  way  to  perfection,"  in  the 
words  of  St.  Teresa.  With  regard  to  the 
hour  of  recollection  every  day,  this  in- 
struction has  been  on  several  occasions 
most  earnestly  given  by  our  divine  Mas- 
ter, as  applicable  to  "  all  persons,  what- 
ever be  their  state  or  condition."  Taught 
by  Him,  all  the  saints  have  iirgently  re- 
commended meditation  to  all  persons; 
maintaining  with  St.  Alphonsus  Liguori, 
that  "meditation  and  sin  cannot  exist 
together."  "  Whoever  has  begun  mental 
prayer,"  says  St.  Teresa,  "  I  wish  him  not 
to  give  it  up,  whatever  sins  he  may  com- 
mit in  the  mean  time,  since  this  is  the 
means  by  which  he  may  recover  himself 
again ;  but  without  it,  he  will  find  the 
work  much  more  difficult.  And  let  not 
the  devil  tempt  him  to  leave  it  off  through 
a  motive  of  humility.  *  *  Whoever 
has  not  commenced  this  exercise,  I  be- 
seech him,  for  the  love  of  our  Lord,  not  to 
deprive  himself  of  so  great  a  benefit. 
Here  we  have  nothing  to  fear,  but  much 
to  desire ;  for  though  one  should  not  ad- 
vance much,  nor  strive  to  be  so  perfect  as 
to  deserve  those  favors  and  caresses  which 
God  gives  to  perfect  souls,  yet,  the  least 
which  he  will  obtain  will  be  to  advance 
along  the  path  that  leads  to  heaven,  and 
to  know  that  it  is  the  right  way.  *  * 
I  cannot  understand  why  men  should  fear, 
as  they  do,  to  begin  the  practice  of  men- 
tal prayer,  nor  do  I  know  what  they  are 
afraid  of.  *  *  Most  certainly,  unless 
one  wishes  to  pass  through  the  troubles 
of  this  life  with  still  more  numerous 
troubles,  and  to  close  the  gate  against 
God  Himself,  lest  He  should  by  this  means 
give  him  comfort,  I  cannot  understand 
this  manner  of  proceeding.     T   have,  in- 


deed, much  compassion  for  those  souls 
who  serve  God  at  their  own  cost;  but  as 
for  those  who  use  mental  prayer,  our  Lord 
bears  their  expenses,  and  repays  the  little 
trouble  they  endure  with  many  pleasures, 
that  so  they  may  bear  those  troubles  for 
His  sake."* 


III. — Pbaykk  fob  the  Chukch. 

On  the  second  Sunday  in  Lent,  St.  Ger- 
trude, by  inspiration,  "  said  the  Pater 
noater  five  times,  in  honor  of  the  Five 
Wounds  of  our  Lord,  in  satisfaction  for 
all  the  sins  which  men  had  committed  by 
the  five  senses  ;  and  three  times  for  the 
sins  committed  by  the  three  powers  of  the 
soul,  namely,  by  reason,  temper,  and  con- 
cupiscence; and  for  all  omissions  and 
commissions:  ofiering  this  prayer  with  the 
same  intention,  and  for  the  same  end  as 
our  Lord  had  formed  it  in  His  sweetest 
Heart;  that  is  to  say,  in  satisfaction  for 
all  the  sins  of  frailty,  ignorance  or  malice, 
which  man  had  opposed  to  His  omnipo- 
tent power,  His  inscrutable  wisdom,  and 
His  overflowing  and  gratuitous  goodness. 
This  prayer  may  be  offered  to  God  during 
this  week,  to  obtain  the  pardon  of  our 
sins  and  omissions,  and  in  satisfaction  for 
the  sins  of  the  Church." 

The  saint's  devotion  for  the  third  week 
was,  by  direction  of  her  Divine  Spouse, 
"  to  recite  the  Pater  noster  thirty-three 
times,  and  thus  purohase  the  merit  of  My 
most  holy  Life,  which  lasted  for  three-and- 
thirty  years,  during  which  I  labored  for 
the  salvation  of  men  ;  and  communicate 
the  fruit  of  what  you  thus  acquire  to  the 
whole  Church,  for  the  salvation  of  men 
and  My  eternal  glory." 

During  the  third  week,  being  divinely 
inspired,  she  performed  certain  devotions 
which  may  be  imitated  "  by  any  one  who 
says  five  Pater  nostera  in  honor  of  our 
Lord's  Five  Wounds,  kissing  them  in 
spirit,  and  praying  for  sinners  who  are  in 
the  bosom  of  the  Church,  to  obtain  the 


*  Life  of  St.  TiTesa,  chap.  viii. 


AVE     MARIA 


163 


remission  of  their  Hins  and  negligences,  if 
they  hope  firmly  to  receive  this  grace 
from  tl»e  Divine  goodness." 

On  Good  Friday,  "  when  the  prayers 
were  said  after  the  Passion  for  the  differ- 
ent Orders  in  the  Church,  according  to  the 
usual  custom,  as  the  ]>riest  knelt,  saying, 
Oremiis,  dllectissimi,  (<he  saw  all  the  pray- 
ers which  had  been  made  throughout  the 
Church  ascending  together  like  fragrant 
incense  from  the  thurible  of  the  Divine 
Heart,  so  that  each  pniyer  by  this  union 
became  marvellously  sweet  and  beautiful. 
Therefore,  we  should  pray  for  the  Church 
on  this  day  with  great  devotion,  in  union 
with  the  Passion  of  our  Lord,  which  ren- 
ders our  prayers  more  efficacious  before 
God." 

[to   be    CONTIN'UKD.] 


The  Birth  of  lain. 


A     C  H  AXT. 


Scene. — A  forest.  Eve  on  a  couch  of  leaves  be- 
neath a  banyan  tree.  A  Storm  over  head. 
Adam  asleep  some  few  paces  off. 

[Eve's  Soliloquy.] 
Ah  me !  what  dread  mysterious  pain 

Doth  lengthen  out  the  night ! 
While  blusterous  wind  and  pattering  rain 

Shut  out  the  moon's  sweet  liglit. 
Is't  not  enough,  sweet  Paradise, 

To  part,  to  part  from  thee? 
Is  this  dread  pain  a  sacrifice. 

Claimed  so  remorselessly 

By  God  from  me?    Ah  me! 

Eden  is  still  in  sight, 
And  through  this  dismal  night. 
While  pain  fllLs  every  nerve, 
Ne'er  doth  the  angel  swerve 
Who  guards  those  portals  bright : 

All  night!    All  nightl 
Uis  fiery  sabre  flashes, 
And  through  the  darkness  dashes 

That  gleam  of  hopeless  light, 
Hopeless  to  me !    Ah  me ! 

I  dare  not  tell  my  Adam  what  I  feel, 
I  dare  not  half  my  fevered  thoughts  reveal; 
His  brow  so  solemn  and  his  gait  so  sad 
Proclaim  no  charm  is  left  his  life  to  glad ; 


And  I  am  lone,  so  lone! 

Is  Joy  forever  gone? 
O  Angels,  have  ye  then  no  word  for  me. 
To  Icwen  all  this  weight  of  misery! 

That  sin  was  it  so  great, 
Thut  burning  thirst  to  know 

AVhich  in  lost  Eden  sel?^ 
My  thoughts,  my  heart  aglow, 
And  ol  the  tree  so  womlrous  prompted  taste  ? 
Alas,  it  brought  but  loss,  that  o'er-impatient  haste. 
Wliere  is  the  knowledge  it  should  bring  to  me  ? 
The  good  and  evil  ?    The  deceitful  tree 
Promised  the  lore  of  both :  I  feel  but  one : 
The  evil  present — and  tlie  good  undone. 

Oh,  what  is  good?  I  dreamed  it  trance  of  mind 

To  lift  majestic  thouglit  above  all  kind 

Of  lower  creature,  to  angelic  height; 

Affinity  to  claim  with  serapli  bright ; 

To  traverse  space  on  fleet  ecstatic  wing 

And  list  the  melo<lies  that  spirits  sing; 

To  witness  rapture  tliat  the  angels  clieers. 

And  perhaps  to  pause  amid  the  forming  spheres ; 

To  view  amazed,  the  grand,  the  mighty  plan 

Begun  in  space  and  ending  here,  in  Man. 

I  thought  to  trace  the  source  of  life  and  light. 

To  know  what  makes  the  day,  and  what  the  night; 

To  feel  the  links  that  Mind  with  Matter  bind 

Into  one  will — one  action.    Life  to  find 

(If  found  it  may  be)  in  its  secret  spring; 

The  life  that  moves,  and  feels,  and  seems  to  give 

Organic  form 
To  all  it  touches  with  mysterious  wing; 

The  wind  and  storm 
And  all  the  powers  that  move,  that  seem  to  live 
In  formless  entities;  I  sought  to  know 
Who  taught  the  storm  to  rage,  the  wind  to  blow  ; 
By  what  resistle.<»s  force,  each  element 
Changes  in  attribute  with  others  blent ; 
I  thought  to  see  the  glorious  star-dust  rise 
Until  in  gems  that  deck  our  evening  skies, 
Consolidated,  it  doth  bless  our  sight 
And  gild  with  beauty  each  returning  night. 
"  To  be  as  Gods  "  such  was  the  promise  given : 
To  me,  it  seemed  nn  echoing  voice  fTom  Heaven. 
How  can  the  soul  inbreathed  of  God  e'er  die? 
It  bears  the  impress  of  Eternity  ! 
And  still  I  feel,  however  drear  my  fate, 
Whate'er  the  sorrows  that  may  still  awi^it, 

I  cannot  die ! 
Not  all  of  me  can  die  ! 
Annihilation!  that  can  never  be! 

There  may  be  woe  I 

Nay,  to  forego 
All  joy,  and  feel  as  now  I  feel,  M  woe ! 

But  die!  but  die! 
What  means  that  awful  word?    It  gives  the  lie 


164 


AVE     MARIA 


To  the  assurance  stamped  upon  my  heart, 
That  I  from  conscious  being  ne'er  can  part. 
Would  I  could  know? — what  sin  to  know?    To 

knme! 
Is't  not  the  greatest  gift  God  did  bestow? 
Knowledge  was  promised  :  high  intelligence  : 
Am  I  then  mocked  alike  in  mind  and  sense  ? 
Ah  me!    Ahmisefjr!    This  weary  pain! 
The  heaven  I  dream  of  sinks  to  earth  again. 

Thus  mourned  our  beauteous  mother,  lovely  Eve, 

As  the  deep  veil  of  night 

Hid  her  from  Adam's  sight ; 
From  Adam,  before  whom  she  dared  not  grieve  ; 
Still  unrepentant  of  that  deep,  dark  sin 
That  quenched  the  light  within ; 
Nor  knowing  yet,  that  every  breath 
Did  but  prolong  a  living  death, 

Severed  from  God, 

Whose  chastening  rod 
Concealed  His  mercy  when  He  drove  Man  forth 
To  find  the  thorns  and  thistles  of  the  earth  ; 
To  learn  that  Good  resides  in  God's  high  will, 

And  there  alone ! 
That  all  the  evil  which  wide  earth  doth  fill 
Is  but  withdrawal  of  that  sovereign  light, 

Which  should  unite 
Man's  soul  with  God's  high  will, 
And  make  man's  will, 
With  God's,  but  one ! 

Alas  for  Eve,  no  ray 

Illumes  her  dreary  day ; 

No  sign  of  grace 

Doth  yet  eflface 

That  deep  dark  sin  of  pride 
That  overwhelmed  her  state, 

That  bade  roll  back  the  tide 
Of  grace;  and  change  love  into  hate. 

Woe!  sighed  the  angels;  woe! 

That  broken  pact, 

That  sinful  act, 
But  speaks  of  pain ! 

Eve  anguish-tost 

All  pleasure  lost, 
Renews  again 

But  sorrow's  dark  and  deepest  woe ! 
Ah  woe!  deep  woel 
Who  shall  for  her  dare  plead, 

Who  doth  not  God  adore ; 
Oh !  who  shall  intercede, 

Or  grace  implore 
For  Eve ;  still  unrepentant  In  her  woe  ? 
Deep  woe ! 

O  God  of  compassion,  O  Jesu  benign, 
Whose  mercy,  whose  loye  mos^  transcendantly 
shine ; 


Thou  hast  not  forgotten  the  work  of  Thy  hand ! 
Though  sin  hath  enshrouded   with    shadows  of 

death. 
And  foul  guilt  be-tainted  Eve's  body  and  breath. 
Thy  mercy  prophetic  foresliadows  the  cross, 
Grace  won  for  the  sinner  redeemeth  her  loss; 

Thy  tenderness  pleadeth;  from  seraphs'  bright 
band 
An  angel  of  mercy  descends  from  the  skies; 
He  hastes  to  the  couch  where  the  anguished  one 

lies: 
The  Mother  of  Men! 

And  the  seraph's  bright  wing 
Closes  over  the  form  of  the  suffering. 

Eve  lay  entranced,  and  ceased  that  dull  drear  pain, 

The  spirit  once  again 
Resumed  its  right  (tliough  but  for  one  ^rief  hour) 
Over  external  influence  to  tower. 

The  angel  spake  in  accents  soft  and  low  : 
"  Fair  Eve,  the  choice  to  know 
What  evil  is,  what  evil  can  bestow, 
Could  not  be  gralifietl  without  this  pang 

Of  dreary  death. 
Evil  is  death !    'Tis  severance  from  God, 
From  whom  life,  light  and  love  and  glory  sprang. 

His  breath 
Is  life;  the  sacred  life  of  grace 
He  formed  man  to  embrace. 
Good  Is  of  Grod  alone  : 
Bound  to  His  holy.  His  eternal  throne. 

"  Forth  from  the  Living  Word  creation  sprang, 
Material  form  and  bright  intelligence, 

Serapli  alike  and  Man, 
Framed  by  the  grandeur  of  Omnipotence 
In  order's  plan. 
While  through  the  endless  space  angelic  voices 

rang. 
And  joy  met  joy  through  all  the  brilliant  spheres. 
While  all-pervading  love  each  joy  endears. 
Each  In  his  brilliont  panoply  of  bliss,         ^ 
High  o'er  tlie  rosy  tinted  hues  that  kiss 
Tlie  shadows,  as  tliey  play  in  endless  si>ncp. 
And  with  the  sun's  bright  glories  interlace. 
The  Angel  host.  In  faultless  beauty  stood: 
The  work  of  God :  intelligent  and  good. 

"But  evil  came :  came  to  the  angel  bands 

Severed  the  spirit  will  from  will  of  God ; 
E'en  he,  the  brightest  once,  a  rebel  stands, 

And  fe«>ls  the  scourge  of  God's  avenging  rod : — 
For  him  is  no  redemption!  but  for  tl»ee — 
Although  thou  pay'st  a  fearflil  penalty — 
Although  thy  fatal  choice  entails  deep  woe, 
Yet  may'st  thou  not  the  hope  of  good  forego. 


AVE      MARIA. 


166 


Qraop  ft-eoly  purchased  for  Iheo  on  the  cross 
Shall  yet  redeem  vho  wM,  from  utter  Iws; 
Knowletigo  of  evil,  what  it  is  to  be 
Partetl  ftrom  Ood,— to  grope  all  gloomily 
Seeking  for  good  which  earth  can  never  give, 
Living  in  deatli,  yet  droiming  that  they  live, 
IIoHt  thou  cntuik-d  upou  the  huumn  race! 
Yet  those  icho  icill  may  yet  recover  grace 
And  live  iu  Christ  through  grace  the  cross  has  won ; 
Thus  is  turned  back  the  evil  thou  hast  done. 

"  The  Holy  One,  one  day  of  woman  born, 
Shall  crush  for  aye  the  serpent's  evil  head  ; 

Angels  shall  hail,  with  men,  the  glorious  mom 
When  God  as  man  this  weary  earth  shall  tread, 

And  win  redemption  fi)r  the  chosen  race 

Destined  to  fill  the  fkllen  angels'  place." 


The  Seraph  paused :  the  trance  has  passed  away ; 
Back  sped  the  angel  to  the  realms  of  day. 
Adam  awakened  by  Eve's  cr}'  of  pain 
Hastes  to  her  side :  a  cry, — and  then  a  glow 
Of  rapturous  gladness.     Past  is  all  anguish  now ; 
Thrflling  with  joy,  Eve  hails 

The  birth  of  Cain. 

"What  fancy  fills  Eve's  heart  with  fair  deceit, 
As  she  surveys  the  child  from  head  to  feet? 
"Is  this  the  promised  good?  the  Holy  One, 

Who  shall  restore  the  happiness  undone? 

A  man  from  God!  from  God!  O  Adam,  sec 

A  tiny  man,  a  likeness  full  of  thee ! 

A  man  from  God !  O  joy !  my  beating  heart! 

Oh,  doth  he  come  redemption  to  impart?" 

Dream  on,  fiiir  Eve;  one  moment  happy  be. 

Too  soon,  too  soon,  thou'lt  know  thy  misery, — 
Too  soon  wilt  know  what  disobedience  brings ; 
Too  soon  wilt  feel  the  serpent's  varied  stings ; 
Too  soon  wilt  shudder  when  the  haugthy  Cain 
Renews  thy  sin,  o'erwhelms   thy   heart  with 

pain. 
Too  soon  wilt  know,  good  never  springs  from  sin. 
Nor  can  impenitence  redemption  win. 
A  virgin  pure  as  first  tliou  cam'st  from  God 
Alone  may  hope  t'avert  Ui'  avenging  rod. 
To  bear  the  high  Redeemer  of  man's  race 
Who  shall  at  length  thy  sin,  thy  sliamc  eff'ace;"^ 
Another  Eve  must  rise  in  God  all  pure, 
Whose  grace  divine  all  ages  shall  endure. 
Mary,  our  Mother!  Mother  of  our  God! 
In  sorrowing  silence  treads  the  steps  he  trod; 
Renews  the  chain  of  grace  severed  by  Eve! 
Mary,  our  Mother,  deign  our  vows  receive : 
Teach  us  thy  gift,  fidelity  to  grace, 
Which  shall  till  stain  of  sin  for  aye  eflace. 

M.  A.a 


THE  FLENIVIINCS. 


BY    MBS.    ANXA    H.    DOBSKT. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

GHOPIXGS  AND  TII^SHADOW. 

It  was  true.  There  was  nothing,  hu- 
manly speaking,  for  the  Flemmings  to  wish 
for.  They  were  prosperous,  contented 
and  happy  in  each  other ;  and,  as  Mrs. 
Flemming  said :  "  What  better  could 
they  hope  for  their  children,  than  Uie 
safe,  sensible  marriages  they  expected  to 
make?"  It  is  true  that  the  good  little 
mother  got  into  quite  a  gloomy,  anxious 
mood  every  Sabbath,  over  the  uncon- 
verted state  of  her  sons  and  daughters,  for 
which  she  found  no  balm  in  Father  Ray's 
senatons;  but  she  scarcely  gave  herself 
time  during  the  busy  week  days  to  feel 
troubled  about  it,  finding  her  solace  in  her 
household  and  family  cares;  and  for  any 
spiritual  anxieties  that  might  arise,  a 
diversion  in  Reuben's  idle,  shiftless  ways, 
which  acted  as  a  chronic  counter  irritant, 
perplexing  her  without  measure ;  and  now 
that  he  had  taken  to  writing  verses,  and 
drawing  pictures  and  faces  upon  the  barn 
door  and  the  kitchen  wall,  with  charcoal 
and  chrome  red,  which  was  left  from 
painting  a  new  out-building,  she  had  a 
perfect  fever  of  the  heart,  which  now  and 
then  vented  itself  in  wondering  "  what  on 
earth  would  become  of  him !"  They 
would  be  able  to  leave  him  enough  to  keep 
him  above  want;  but  an  idle  man!  This 
was  a  lusug  naturm  which  she  could  not 
endure  to  think  of,  and  he  a  Flemming ! 

George  Merrill  staid  on  from  day  to 
day,  from  week  to  week,  and  spent  much 
of  his  time  at  the  old  homestead;  then 
something  happened  which  gave  them  all 
great  happiness.  John  Wilde  experienced 
the  "  saving  evidence,"  and  professed  con- 
version, and  was  afterwards  baptized  by 
old  Father  Ray,  not  only  with  water,  but 
with  the  old  minister's  tears  that  flowed 
over  the  furrows  of  his  harsh  face  without 


166 


AVE     MARIA 


an  effort  to  check  tlieni,  on  the  head  of  the 
stalwart,  handsome  youuj;  fellow,  whom 
he  had  held  in  his  arms  and  blessed,  when 
he  Avas  only  a  few  hours  old,  beside  the 
bed  of  his  dying  father.  His  heart  was 
softened  when  he  thought  of  this;  and  he 
felt  in  administering  this  christian  rite 
that  he  was  redeeming  a  pledge  made  long 
ago  to  a  dying  n^^  and  he  rejoiced  that 
he  was  spared  for  the  work,  no  doubt  ever 
crossing  his  mind  as  to  the  method,  or  his 
right  in  performing  it.  John  Wilde  was 
always  a  good,  moral  young  man ;  but  all 
of  his  friends,  those  who  were  "  mem- 
bers" and  those  who  were  not,  rejoiced 
over  his  conversion,  because  they  thought 
it  a  safe  thing  for  a  young  man  just  start- 
ing in  life  to  be  religious.  Nicholas 
Flemming  grumbled  over  it  a  little,  and 
told  Hope  that  he  "expected  John  would 
get  as  ugly  and  sour  as  Father  Ray  him- 
self, and  he  supposed  that  he  would  tMnk 
himself  too  good  to  shake  his  foot  m  a 
reel  again."  Mr.  John  Wilde  would  never 
dance  again,  but  Hope  was  thankful  to  see 
that  he  was  only  a  shade  more  serious 
than  usual,  and  that  he  did  not  grow  dis- 
agreeable or  sour.  He  only  exhorted  her 
now  and  then  in  such  a  way  that  she  got 
afraid  that  she  was  not  good  enough  for 
him;  but  on  the  whole  he  was  the  same, 
and  they  were  all  very  happy  together, 
except  Wolfert  Flemming,  whose  doubts 
and  perplexities  increased  instead  of 
diminishing;  and  the  more  he  pored  over 
his  old  theological  books — some  full  of  Lu- 
theranism,  some  full  of  Moravian  doctrine, 
to  seek  a  standing-place  for  his  feet — the 
deeper  he  got  into  the  mire,  for  none  of 
them  agreed ;  each  one  gave  different  in- 
terpretations to  the  texts  that  disquieted 
him^  and  in  his  thirst  he  could  iind  no 
drop  of  water  in  the  broken  cisterns  they 
had  hewn  out,  until  at  last  it  became 
clearer  to  the  man's  mind,  every  day,  that 
in  the  administration  and  government  of 
God's  kingdom  upon  earth,  there  must  be 
a  unity,  a  oneness  and  a  divine  autlionity 
worthy  of  Him,  its  head  and  founder.  But 
here  he  was  obliged  to  stop  short.  He  had 
not  found  the  clue  yet,  and  he  went  stum- 


bling on  in  the  shadow  of  darkness, 
blindly  groping  for  the  keystone  of  the 
arch,  which  seemed  far  beyond  his  reach. 
These  were  not  the  days  of  railroads,  tel- 
egraph wires,  steamships,  literary  priva- 
teering, and  cheap  dissemination  of  phil- 
osophy. Kant  and  Spinoza  had  not  then 
enlightened  the  American  mind  with  their 
transcendental  and  pantheistic  effusions. 
Renan  had  not  written,  and  one  heard 
nothing  of  "Symbolic  Christs,"  of  "  Spir- 
itual Chri8ts,"of"  Representative  Christs," 
and  but  little  of  no  Christ  at  all,  or  it  is 
just  possible  that  our  good  Puritan  might 
have  been  drawn  into  an  insidious,  cheat- 
ing and  destructive  maelstrom  of  infidel 
ideas,  and  tried  to  measure  an  infinite  God 
by  the  poor  guage  of  human  reason.  Hap- 
pily safe  from  such  temptations,  his  whole 
mind  was  bent  on  trying  to  reconcile  the 
glaring  discrepancy  between  the  literal 
words  and  commands  and  teaching»  of 
Christ,  and  the  doctrines  and  teachings  of 
the  sects  Avhich  he  believed  to  be  ortho- 
dox ;  but  he  could  not  make  them  har- 
monize either  symbolically,  practically  or 
theoretically  ;  so  finding  that  this  perpet- 
ual study  of  what  became  daily  a  deeper 
mystery  to  him,  was  beginning  to  make 
him  morose  and  gloomy,  he  got  into  his 
cutter  one  morning,  and  went  a  day's 
journey  up  the  country,  among  the  pines, 
where  his  men  were  felling  timber.  Here, 
with  axe  in  hand,  he  hewed  away  at  the 
great  trees  from  morning  until  night,  with 
such  force  in  his  sinewy  arms,  that  his  six- 
foot  lumbermen  felt  ashamed  of  their  more 
puny  blows,  and  braced  themselves  up 
with  a  will,  for  these  half  wild  men  of  the 
mountains  did  not  like  to  be  outdone  by 
one  who  followed  the  plough  and  pottered 
about  the  lowland  valleys;  and  there  was 
more  timber  felled  in  those  few  days  than 
was  ever  brought  down  before  in  so  short 
a  time.  Wolfert  Flemming's  blood  circu- 
lated more  healthily,  and  he  brought  a 
good  appetite  with  him  to  the  repast  of 
bear-steaks,  potatoes  and  brown  bread 
that  was  daily  set  before  him,  while  he 
found  mental  occupation  in  settling  two 
or  three  quarrels  among  the  rough  fellows 


AVE     MARIA. 


167 


around  him ;  bnt  none  of  ihese  expedients 
quietfd  the  vexed  needs  of  his  soul,  and 
at  tlie  end  of  a  week  he  went  back  with 
a  vague  yearning  and  longing  after  an  in- 
definable something  which  could  settle 
the  difficulties  and  exercises  of  his  mind. 
Father  Kay  could  not  do  it,  neither  could 
his  books,  for  they  contradicted  each  other ; 
and  he  had  prayed — he  thought  in  vain — 
for  light.  His  Bible  most  of  all  dis- 
turbed him,  for  therein  were  the  words  of 
Divine  Truth  itself,  which  meant  every- 
thing or  nothing.  If  they  meant  every- 
thing, why  was  he  in  darkness  and  doubt? 
If  they  meant  nothing,  then  all  religion 
was  a  lie.  If  Christ  was  the  Eternal 
Truth,  then  were  His  words  the  truth;  if 
He  was  not,  then  His  teaching  was  an  im- 
posture. And  upon  this  proposition  Wol- 
fert  Flemming's  mental  struggles  hinged 
themselves.  He  believed  truly,  honestly 
and  with  all  the  strength  of  his  will  and 
understanding,  that  Christ  was  the  Son  of 
God,  the  very  Redeemer  who  came  upon 
earth  not  only  to  ransom  man,  but  to  found 
a  law  of  Faith  in  which  he  could  walk  with- 
out stumbling,  and  this  law  of  Faith  should 
be  something  divine  and  perfect,  without 
contradiction  and  pitfalls.  It  became 
more  and  more  clear  to  him  that  this 
divine  code  did  not  belong  to  any  of  the 
contradictory  creeds  with  which  he  was 
familiar,  because  some  of  them  made  a 
dead  letter  of  the  literal  words  of  Christ, 
while  others  gave  them  meanings  to  suit 
themselves.  How  could  a  thorn  tree 
bring  forth  figs?  He  opened  his  Bible 
one  day,  and  read  of  the  wonderful  power 
given  to  Peter  and  the  Apostles  :  "  Whose 
sins  ye  remit,  they  are  remitted;  whatso- 
ever ye  loose  upon  earth  shall  be  loosed 
in  heaven."  "As  My  Father  hath  sent  Me, 
I  also  send  you !"  and  to  Flemming's 
mind,  even  in  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life, 
it  would  have  seemed  more  than  absurd  to 
have  bestowed  such  powers  and  withheld 
the  means  of  executing  them.  He  inferred, 
then,  that  this  august  power  had  been 
given,  with  the  authority  and  means  to 
execute  it,  otherwise  the  words  were  as 
meaningless  as  anything  in  Joe  Smith's 


Bible.  Had  this  power  become  a  dead 
letter?  He  could  not  be  certain.  The 
German  Lutherans,  he  had  read,  claimed 
some  such  power,  but  the  other  reformed 
sects  trampled  it  under  foot  as  one  of  the 
abuses  of  popery.  Then,  too,  Christ  had 
said,  "  If  he  will  not  hear  the  Church,  let 
him  be  anathema."  He  did  not  say 
Churches ;  therefore,  if  He  was  to  be  be- 
lieved, there  was  a  Church  in  which  was 
vested  a  power  not  only  to  remit  sins,  but 
to  anathematize  those  who  stubbornly  re- 
fuse to  hear  it,  if  he  was  to  credit  the 
Bible.  These  were  some  of  the  doubts 
arising  from  his  study  of  the  Scriptures ; 
but  the  crowning  and  most  weighty  one 
of  all,  was  in  the  sixth  chapter  of  St.  John, 
which  seemed  to  be  the  key-note  of  his 
difficulties,  the  mystery  which,  if  he  could 
understand  it,  would  unfold  the  rest ;  the 
pillar  of  cloud  that  led  him  he  knew  not 
whither,  only  drifting  farther  and  farther 
away  from  the  dogmas  he  had  been  taught 
from  his  youth  up  ;  while  the  Bible,  which 
he  had  always  held  as  the  true  rule  of 
Faith,  was  now  his  stumbling  block.  Was 
he  a  hypocrite  ?  This  thought  reddened 
his  honest  face  with  shame ;  but  he  feared 
that  it  was  something  like  it  to  be  out- 
wardly holding  with  the  shallow  belief  of 
his  sect  and  doubting  all  the  time.  What 
right  had  he  to  set  up  to  be  wiser  and  of 
deeper  penetration  than  his  brethren  ? 
Was  it  not  the  presumption  of  a  fool  to 
measure  his  distractions  against  the  sa- 
cred wisdom  of  three  centuries?  "  There 
must  surely,"  he  sometimes  thought,  "be 
a  maggot  in  my  brain,  or  something  cor- 
rupt in  my  soul.  I  tciil  shake  off  these 
importunate  temptations."  But  he  might 
as  well  have  said  that  he  would  not 
breathe,  and  expect  to  live  on  ;  for,  do  all 
that  he  woiUd,  he  could  not  silence  tliese 
demands  of  his  soul ;  and  he  went  on 
plodding  the  routine  of  his  everyday 
practical  life,  wrestling  with  the  strong 
Angel  in  the  darkness  until  sometimes 
he  felt  almost  spent,  and  wondered  if 
the  day  would  ever  dawn.  In  the  out- 
ward man  there  was  no  change.  A 
close    observer  would    have  thought   him 


168 


AVE     MARIA 


a  shade  more  reticent,  a  fact  rcsnltitig  { 
from  hiR  mental  exercises,  which  he  now 
confided  to  no  one,  not  even  to  Father 
Ray,  with  whom  he  declined  any  further 
discussion  by  telling  him  one  day  "  that 
he  should  try  to  let  things  fall  hack  into 
the  old  way ;  he  saw  no  help  for  himself 
otherwise,  and  he  should  endeavor  to 
silence  his  doubts,  and  serve  God  accord- 
ing to  the  lights  he  had  ;"  which  the  old 
minister  thought  a  very  judicious,  chris- 
tian-liko  course,  and  rejoiced  over  him  as 
over  a  sheep  that  had  been  lost  in  the  wil- 
derness and  found  again.  But  it  did  not 
seem  to  strike  him  that  on  the  two  last 
"sacramental  Sabbaths"  Elder  Flemming 
was  not  in  his  usual  place  in  "meeting." 
He  heard  that  he  had  gone  up  among  his 
lumbermen  in  the  pine  region ;  but  when 
the  third  one  rolled  round,  and  he  was  not 
present  at  the  "  Table  of  the  Lord's  Sup- 
per," he  called  upon  him  to  admonish  and 
rebuke  him,  with  a  heavy  heart;  for  the 
shortcoming  of  a  brother  so  looked  up  to 
by  other  professors  as  a  "burning  and 
shining  light"  and  example  on  which  they 
sought  to  model  their  own  lives,  was  no 
ordinary  grief  to  the  old  man  ;  but  Flem- 
ming heard  all  that  he  bad  to  say  pa- 
tiently, and  only  replied,  "I  was  com- 
pelled to  go  away ;"  which,  although  not 
entirely  satisfactory,  was  worth,  coming 
from  him,  a  hundred  excuses  of  any  other 
man. 

We  have  seen  how  happy  and  prosper- 
ous the  Flemmings  were,  and  heard  them 
congi-atulating  each  other,  with  thankful 
hearts,  for  the  blessings  which  crowned 
their  lives.  Of  course  we  leave  out  Wol- 
fert  Flemming's  mental  disquiet,  because 
his  family  had  not  the  remotest  idea  that 
he  was  thus  exercised.  Except  that,  there 
wfts  not  in  all  the  broad  land  a  more  truly 
happy  and  united  home  circle,  or  one  bound 
together  bybands  of  stronger  kindred  love. 
Bat  have  you  ever  in  a  calm  summer  day, 
when  there  was  not  a  cloud  to  be  seen  to 
obscure  the  brightness,  noticed  a  shadow 
suddenly  sail  over  your  head  and  flit  like 
a  thing  of  omen  over  the  waving  heads  of 
the  golden  grain,  shadowing  the  poppies 


among  the  corn  and  the  asters  in  the 
moa<low,  and,  on  looking  up,  shading 
your  eyes  with  your  hand,  seen  that  it  was 
a  hawk  sailing  through  the  amber  hued 
air?  Yon  had  no  superstitious  dread  of 
the  hawk  or  its  fleeting  shadow,  but  it 
was  not  pleasant  to  have  an  eerie  shiidow 
drop  out  of  a  cloudless  sky  on  your  head, 
and  go  creeping  and  gliding  over  the 
beautiful  things  of  earth  around  you,  like 
an  6vil  thought,  and  a  little  chill  quivered 
over  your  flesh,  as  you  watched  the  broad 
winged  bird  until  it  went  out  of  sight  into 
the  far  off  depths  of  the  distance.  Well, 
I  will  tell  you  that  one  day  such  a 
shadow  fell  upon  the  old  homestead,  a 
shadow  which  they  thought  no  more  of 
after  it  passed  away,  but  which  was  the 
avant-courier  of  others  yet  darker  for  that 
happy  household.  It  happened  in  this 
wise. 

One  afternoon,  George  Merrill  rode 
down  to  say  good-bye  to  them  all.  Hope 
and  Nicholas  were  away  at  Deacon 
Sneathen's,  but  expected  back  before 
night.  The  Elder  was  busy  somewhere 
among  his  outbuildings,  and  Reuben  was 
with  him,  full  of  the  amiable  endeavor  to 
be  useful,  but,  as  usual,  getting  himself  in 
the  way  and  throwing  well  planned  things 
into  disorder,  much  to  his  own  surprise, 
for  he  looked  chiefly  at  his  motives  and 
aspirations,  without  paying  much  atten- 
tion to  his  ability  to  execute ;  and  Mrs. 
Flemming  and  Eva  were  employed  in 
some  household  sewing  in  the  faniily 
room,  gossiping  cheerily  over  the  lit- 
tle aff'airs  of  the  neighborhood,  but  ab- 
staining from  all  malice  or  slander — that 
was  one  of  the  moral  laws  of  this  family 
to  which  they  scrupulously  adhered — when 
George  Merrill  came  in,  llis  well-knit, 
handsome  form  set  off" by  a  plain  rich  city 
suit  of  broadcloth,  and  his  fine  face  aglow 
with  hopeful,  healthy  vitality ;  and  both 
the  women  thought  they  had  never  seen 
him  so  noble-looking  and  attractive.  They 
shook  hands;  and  Mrs.  Flemming  in- 
quired after  his  grandfather's  health. 
"  He  was  well,"  George  said ;  **  but  my 
gi-andfathcr's  religion  seems  to  hurt  him  all 


AVE      MARIA. 


169 


the  time  like  a  tight  hoot,  lilon'tmean  any 
disrespect,  Mrs.  Floinming;  but,  except 
one  or  two,  here  and  there,  people's  natures 
appear  to  be  alTected  by  religion  just  as  a 
green  persimmon  does  a  fellow's  mouth; 
it  puckers  them  up  morally,  and  makes 
them  crabbed.  I  cjui't  make  it  out,  and 
shouldn't  bother  myself  over  it,  only  my 
grandfather  and  some  of  his  friends  are 
forever  preaching  to  me,  and  s.iying  such 
disagreeable  things,  that  I  get  heartily 
sick  of  it." 

"  Your  grandfather  is  a  faithful  minister 
of  God's  word,  George,  and  you  ought  to 
be  ashamed  of  yourself  to  try  and  show 
oft'  your  city  smartness  at  his  expense," 
said  Mrs.  Flemming.  • 

"  Yes,  my  grandfather  is  a  good  man, 
Mrs.  Flemming ;  but  he  is  troubled  with 
spiritual  hypochondria,  which  gives  him 
awful  notions  of  things;  in  fact,  I  don't 
call  a  thing  that  makes  a  man  miserable, 
religion  ;  at  least,  if  it  is,  it  don't  suit 
me.  But  I  don't  pretend  to  make  it  out ; 
some  of  these  days  I'll  try  to,  perhaps.  I 
am  going  away,  to-morrow,  and  I  came 
down  to  shake  hands  with  everybody,"  he 
said,  looking  at  Eva. 

"  I  guess  we  shall  all  miss  you,  George," 
she  said  frankly. 

"I  am  glad  to  think  that  I  shall  be 
missed,"  he  replied  gravely. 

"  You  have  taken  a  good  long  holiday  ; 
but  I  expect  you'll  go  back  and  forget  your 
country  friends,  amid  the  great  city  folk," 
said  Mrs.  Flemming. 

"No,"  he  an8wei*ed  simply;  "I  shall 
nev6r  forget  them.  There  is  nothing  in 
Boston  that  I  like  half  so  well  as  being 
here.     Where  is  everybody  to-day  ?" 

"  Father  and  Reuben  are  among  the 
stock,  looking  after  some  pigs  that  need 
currj'ing.  Nick  and  Hope  went  up  to  sec 
Iluldah ;  but  I  expect  themback  presently," 
said  Mrs.  Flenuning.  Then  it  seemed  to 
occur  to  her  that  George,  here  at  the 
last  moment,  might  wish  to  say  something 
to  Eva,  and  she  rose  op  saying,  "  she 
would  go  and  see  where  father  and  Ruby 
were,  and  br'ng  them  in;  she  know  they 
would  be  sorry  to  hear  that  he  was  going 


away ;"  and  she  gathered  up  her  work, 
dropped  it  into  the  work-basket,  and  flut- 
tered out. 

George  Merrill  drew  his  chair  closer  to 
Eva's,  and  said,  "  It  depends  upon  you, 
Eva,  whether  or  not  I  ever  come  back." 

"  I  hope  not,  George,"  she  replied,  while 
the  roses  faded  out  of  her  cheek. 

"  You  hope  not  /"  he  repealed.  "  It 
does,  I  tell  you,  depend  upon  the  answer 
that  you  give  me  now.  I  love  you,  Eva. 
Ever  since  we  were  children,  yon  know 
you  were  always  my  little  sweet-heart 
when  we  went  to  school  together.  I  have 
loved  you,  and  the  hope  of  one  day  win- 
ning you  for  my  wife  has  been  the  incen- 
tive to  all  my  best  exertions,  and  the  safe- 
guard of  my  manhood  and  honor.  What 
have  you  to  Say  to  me  ?" 

"  I  am  sorry,  George ;"  and  the  girl's 
voice  was  tremulous  with  pity ;  "  I  am 
sorry  to  pain  you  ;  but — " 

"  Don't,  Eva  ;  don't !"  he  cried,  putting 
forth  his  hand  with  a  deprecatory  gesture ; 
"  don't  tell  me  that  all  my  patient  waiting 
and  love  goes  for  nothing.  I  couldn't 
stand  that ;  indeed  I  couldn't." 

"  You  must  have  courage,  George,"  she 
said  at  last,  as  she  lifted  her  pure,  honest 
eyes,  so  like  her  father's,  and  looked 
frankly  into  his.  "  I  cannot  return  the 
preference  you  have  honored  me  with.  It 
is  kind  of  you  to  think  so  well  of  me,  and 
I  thank  you  for  it ;  but  I  can  give  you  no 
hope  beyond  my  friendship." 

"  But  why — why,  Eva?  What  is  there  in 
me  so  repulsive  and  disagreeable  that  you 
refuse  to  allow  me  at  least  to  hope  to  win 
you  ?"  he  exclaimed. 

"No,  there  is  nothing  of  that  sort, 
George  ;  on  the  contrary,  I  do  not  know 
any  one  who  has  greater  personal  or  intel- 
lectual advantages,  and  I  have  a  thorough 
liking  and  respect  for  you,  such  as  I  have 
for  my  father  and  brothers " 

"  Hut,  })crhap8,"  he  interrupted  almost 
rudely,  "  there  is  some  other  person  to- 
wards whom'  your  liking  goes  a  little  far- 
ther than  this  dutiful  kindred  sentiment!" 

"That  is  none  of  your  business,  George 
Merrill !"  she  answered,  while   an   angry 


170 


AVE     MARIA 


light  flaslied  for  a  moment  in  her  eyes. 
Then  pitying  him  for  the  breaking  up  of 
the  hopes  that  had  brightened  his  dreams 
so  long,  she  added  more  gently,  '*  There 
is  no  other  person." 

"Then  I  will  hope,  Eva.  Remember,  I 
will  not  give  you  up  ;  I  will  write  to  you  ; 
I  will  come ;  I  will  importune  you,  and 
bear  with  your  caprices  and  wait  patient- 
ly ;  but  I  will  not  give  you  up,  remember 
that,"  he  said. 

"  It  will  be  all  useless,  George  ;  and  you 
will  waste  the  best  years  of  your  life  in 
an  idle  pursuit.  I  will  not  receive  your 
letters.  As  a  friend  of  the  family,  I  will 
give  you  welcome  when  you  come,  but 
nothing  more,"  she  said  in  a  grave  deter- 
mined tone. 

Just  then  the  Elder  and  Reuben  came 
in,  and  there  was  a  great  hand-shaking, 
in  the  midst  of  which  Hope  and  Nicholas 
arrived.  They  had  heard  at  Deacon 
Sneathen's  that  George  was  going,  and 
went  up  to  Father  Ray's  to  see  him ;  but 
he  was  not  at  home,  and  the  housekeeper 
told  them  he  had  gone  up  to  John  Wilde's; 
but  here  he  was,  to  their  great  joy,  at 
their  own  fireside ;  and  the  pleasant, 
friendly  things  that  were  said  to  him,  and 
the  sorrow  they  all  expressed  at  his  going 
away,  should  have  consoled  him,  but  it 
did  not,  and  he  felt  so  hurt  and  disap- 
pointed that  he  could  not  stand  it,  but 
got  up  to  take  leave  and  go. 

[to  bb  continued.] 


The  Danish  Evangelical  Chronicle  la- 
ments loudly  over  the  numerous  conver- 
sions to  Catholicism  which  are  taking 
place  in  Denmark.  From  various  sources 
complaints  are  being  made  to  Government 
of  the  disregard  of  the  law  which  forbids 
that  Lutheran  children  should  attend 
catholic  schools. 

A  Jesuit — Father  Roh — has  been  ap- 
pointed to  preach  the  Lenten  Sermons  in 
the  church  of  the  University  at  Vienna. 

TuE  Paris  papers  announce  that  Marshal 
Randon  has  been  received  into  the  Church. 
—  Westminster  Gazette. 


To  Saint  Patrick. 


(Air— "Tho'  the  last  glimpse  of  Erin.") 

O  glorious  Saint  Patrick,  green  Erin's  bright  star ! 
Who  to  our  lov'd  Ireland  didst  come  from  afar, 
To  illumine  our  souls  with  religion's  pure  ray, 
And  bring  the  glad  tidings  of  new  coming  day. 

First  led  as  a  captive  to  our  fertile  shore ; 

God  humbled  and  tried  thee,  t'exalt  thee  the  more, 

But  in  Him  was  tby  hope,  thou  didst  pray  night 

and  day. 
Till  at  last  by  Ills  own  voice  He  bid  thee  away. 

Then  back  thou  didst  go  to  thy  lov'd  parent's  home, 
And  next  came  our  glorious  apostle  from  Rome 
To  prostrate  the  idols  our  fathers  adored 
And  teach  them  to  worship  that  God  they  ignor'd. 

'Twas  "  the  voice  of  the  Irish"  first  call'd  thee  to 

toil, 
To  plant  the  Cross  through  their  dear  native  soil, 
And  their  little  ones  thou  in  a  vision  didst  see 
With  fervor  imploring  God's  succor  thro'  thee. 

Thy  children  now  exiles  on  many  a  shore 
Will  love  and  revere  thee  till  time  be  no  more, 
And  the  Are  thou  hast  kindled  shall  never  be 

quenched 
Though  long  with  the  tide  of  adversity  drenched. 

Ever  bless  and  protect  the  sweet  land  of  our  birth, 
Where  the  shamrock  still  blooms  as  when  thou 

livedst  on  earth ; 
And  our  hearts  shall  yet  burn  wheresoever  we  roam 
For  God  and  Saint  Patrick  and  our  own  native 

home. 

M.  DE  S.  B. 


Life  of  Mother  Mary  Seraphine  F- 


[After  a  long  and  unavoidable  interruption  we 
resume  the  truly  edifying  and  interesting  "  Life  of 
Mother  Mary  Seraphine,"  from  No.  40,  Vol.  IV.] 

Mother  Seraphine  had  the  grief  of  see- 
ing many  souls,  unfaithful  to  their  vocation, 
fall  into  the  misfortunes  she  had  predicted. 
The  divine  mercy  recalled  some  of  them 
to  the  ark,  as  the  good  mother  had  foretold ; 
for  others,  she    said    they    would   endure 


AVE     MARIA. 


171 


troublo  after  trouble,  without  losing  con- 
fidenco  and  recur  Hi  last  to  her  couuHels. 
Then,  tar  from  extinguishing;  the  still 
smouldering  spark,  she  exhorted  them 
efficaciously  to  profit  by  their  just  chastise- 
ments, and  at  least  to  revive  in  themselves 
the  desire  lor  a  ]>ious  life,  if  their  too 
lengthened  infidelity  had  closed  to  them 
the  path  of  perfection. 

The  occupation  of  her  life  was  to  lead 
souls  to  God.  She  was  always  either 
superior  or  mistress  of  novices;  when  she 
was  not  fulfilling  either  of  these  charges 
in  her  own  convent,  the  Lord  lent  her  to 
other  communities,  for  their  greater  ad- 
vancement. The  conduct  of  souls  mani- 
fested itself  in  her  in  a  unique  way,  follow- 
ing grace  step  by  step.  She  studied  the 
interior  attraction,  she  took  into  account 
the  natural  obstacles  that  interposed, 
weighed  the  strength  of  the  soul,  profit- 
ing from  all  peculiarities  of  character  and 
education  to  develop  and  establish  in 
hearts  the  reign  of  God's  grace.  God  had 
bestowed  on  her  a  gift  of  a  special  kind 
to  enable  her  to  succeed  in  this  difficult 
art.  It  would  be  impossible  to  assign  any 
specified  character  to  her  direction.  She 
received  from  God  for  each  soul  the  food 
that  soul  needed,  and  presented  it  with 
great  simplicity  of  thought  and  word.  Her 
direction  strengthened  the  soul  and  gave 
it  singleness  of  purpose  ;  it  destroyed  self 
love  by  putting  God  alone  before  it.  She 
could  have  applied  to  lierself  the  words  of 
St.  Paul:  "  I  make  myself  all  to  all  that  I 
may  win  all  to  Jesus  Christ." 

Knowing  as  she  did  every  secret  of  the 
interior  life,  and  able  to  converse  on  its 
deepest  mysteries,  she  would  yet  talk  with 
her  "  little  ones"  on  the  first  principles  of 
virtue  as  though  like  them  she  was  just 
learning  to  lisp  the  language  of  the  spirit- 
ual life.  Her  words  were  truly  both  jnilk 
for  babes  and  bread  for  the  strong.  Her 
devotion  to  souls  was  most  entire,  and 
to  them  she  sacrificed  her  time,  her  strength 
and  her  repose;  without  growing  weary 
she  endured  the  inconstant,  the  weak,  and 
the  ignorant — watching,  with  more  than 
a  mother's  tenderness,  the   operations  of 


grace  in  them,  that  she  might  follow  its 
guidance.  This  watchfulness  was  not  al- 
ways visible;  with  souls  that  knew  how  to 
distinguish  and  obey  the  voice  of  our 
Lord  she  spoke  little,  except  to  exhort  them 
to  diligence  and  ever  increasing  fidelity  to 
His  interior  directions.  If  God  confided 
to  her  care  some  heart  rebellious  to  the 
designs  of  His  love,  she  reclaimed  it  almost 
always,  learning  how  to  do  this  from  that 
Heart  which  is  overflowing  with  compas- 
sionate charity.  Her  reprehensions  were 
always  given  with  sweetness  and  moder- 
ation, yet  so  forcibly  as  to  inspire  at  once 
regret  for  the  past  and  stronger  resolu- 
tions of  amendment  for  the  future.  One 
while,  as  directress,  she  would  form  the 
religious  spirit  in  her  novices;  another 
while,  as  superior  she  would  labor  to 
maintain  and  develope  it.  She  always 
had  but  one  idea  before  her:  "All  perfec- 
tion is  comprised  for  religious  in  their 
rules,  constitutions,  and  customs."  This 
was  the  one  maxim  she  inculcated  on  her 
daughters,  the  groundwork  of  all  her  in- 
structions, both  in  chapter  and  in  the 
novitiate.  Fidelity  to  the  least  observ- 
ances, to  the  daily  recommendations  of 
holy  obedience,  devotion  to  the  common 
good,  with  the  sole  view  of  pleasing  God, 
the  spirit  of  recollection  and  of  charity, 
were  the  usual  subjects  of  her  conferences. 
She  wished  her  daughters  to  gather  with 
great  care  those  little  flowers  that  grow 
at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  which  St.  Francis 
de  Sales  tells  us  of.  It  was  of  him  she 
learned  such  suavity,  such  simplicity  of 
language,  that  those  who  heard  her  never 
tired  of  listening  to  her  words.  They 
were  like  manna,  suited  to  every  taste, 
enlightening  every  mind,  inflaming  every 
will,  strengthening  in  every  soul  the  true 
spirit  of  the  Order.  Some  of  his  maxims 
were  so  habitually  used  by  her  that  they 
seemed  to  be  a  part  of  her  very  nature : 
"  It  costs  far  more  trouble  to  be  lax  than 
to  be  fervent;"  "Do  with  all  your  heart 
that  which  with  all  your  heart  you  do  not 
wish  to  do;"  "Take  pleasure  in  endur- 
ing all  that  displeases  you,  and  then  all 
that  happens  will  give  you  pleasure,"  etc. 


172 


AVE     MARIA 


To  destroy  in  the  very  beginning  the 
spirit  of  the  worM,  she  used  with  admira- 
ble tact  those  little  practices  of  religion 
that  are  regarded  by  worldlings  with  con- 
tempt. Her  consolation  was  extreme 
when  she  saw  a  great  valtie  set  by  any  of 
her  novices  on  the  least  observances ;  in 
her  eyes  this  was  a  sure  sign  of  their 
vocation.  Her  confidence  in  this  grace 
(a  vocation  to  religion)  always  made  her 
hopeful  of  the  most  happy  results.  "  No 
one  knows  the  extent  of  this  grace,"  she 
would  say ;  "  in  it  is  contained  the  prom- 
ise of  eveiy  other  grace  the  soul  needs  to 
conduct  it  to  the  height  of  perfection. 
But  it  is  necessary  that  the  soul  should 
be  entirely  faithful  to  it."  She  augured 
well  of  those  souls  who  she  saw  were  faith- 
ful to  the  least  inspirations  of  grace,  how- 
ever great  were  their  faults  or  violent 
their  temptations.  On  the  contrary,  if 
she  perceived  a  disposition  to  overlook 
or  scorn  the  small  occasions  that  occurred 
for  the  practice  of  little  virtues,  she  would 
be  grieved  and  disturbed.  Singularity, 
under  whatever  form  it  presented  itself, 
she  always  distrusted. 

Two  faults — indolence  and  pride — were 
unendurable  to  her.  She  could  not  com- 
prehend how  any  one  could  be  idle  in  the 
service  of  God.  For  her  to  know  there 
was  a  good  deed  to  be  done  And  to  do  it 
were  the  same  thing;  thus  she  never 
ceased  to  incite  all  to  diligence  by  her 
own  example.  As  to  pride,  it  inspired  in 
her  extreme  fear;  she  regarded  every  man- 
ifestation of  it  with  a  sort  of  horror.  She 
would  often  speak  of  the  terrible  chastise- 
ments that  God  inflicted  on  this  vice. 
She  pursued  selflove  into  its  last  611- 
trcnchments  and  penetrated  also  its  most 
hidden  disguises.  With  strong  souls  she 
would  take  vigorous  measures  for  its  de- 
struction, and  unveiled  all  its  deformity 
to  inspire  them  with  contempt  for  self; 
with  others  she  triumphed  over  this  ene- 
my by  means  not  less  sure  if  apparently 
more  irentle.  She  would  laugh  at  their 
studied  airs  and  graces,  their  subterfuges 
and  manoeuvres,  and  make  them  laugh 
themselves,  watching  for  occasions  when 


she  could  adroitly  touch  the  evil,  and 
with  playful  wit  give  them  a  lesson  in  an 
amusing  form.  But  it  is  useless  to  try  to 
do  justice  to  her  wise  direction  by  any  de- 
tails that  could  be  given.  We  can  only 
say  that  her  whole  life  was  to  her  commu- 
nity the  most  powerful  as  well  as  most 
precious  encouragement  to  the  pursuit  of 
perfection.  It  was  above  all  in  the  novi- 
tiate that  she  instructed  by  the  eloquent 
silence  of  example.  She  practiced  exactly, 
before  her  young  charges,  the  rule  which 
she  taught,  and  never  required  anything 
of  them  she  had  not  first  done  herself. 

"  It  was  thus,"  said  a  young  sister,  who 
was  in  the  novitiate  when  Mother  Sera- 
ph ine  was  called  to  take  charge  of  it  for 
the  last  time,  "  that  in  her  old  age  our 
dear  mistress  showed  herself  always  the 
first  and  most  zealous  in  the  labors  shared 
by  all,  fatiguing  as  they  often  were.  It 
was  painful  then  for  her  to  stoop,  yet  she 
would  carry  wood,  pick  up  fallen  fruit  un- 
der the  trees,  spread  out  linen  to  dry  on 
the  grass,  and  gather  stones  from  the  gar- 
den beds.  Often  all  the  sisterhood  fol- 
lowed the  novices,  they  loved  so  much 
this  good  mother ;  or  rather,  it  should  be 
said,  she  knew  -so  well  how  to  inspire  Such 
love  for  our  Lord,  that  hea^^y  labors,  for 
Hid  sake,  became  delightful  and  were 
eagerly  sought  for." 

It  was  to  the  instruction  of  thie  novices 
that  she  was  to  consecrate  the  last  years 
of  her  life,  and  these  years  became  to  the 
young  sisters  full  of  the  pleasantest  recol- 
lections. Said  one  of  them  :  "Someone 
remarked  to  our  dear  mistress  that  she 
had  become  too  indulgent,  and  that  she 
had  brought  up  her  first  daughters  ranch 
more  severely.  '  It  is  true,'  she  playfully 
replied,  '  but  I  am  now  a  grandmother, 
and  these  are  my  little  grandchildren.'  " 
They  speak"  with  enthusiasm  of  their 
days  of  recreation,  during  this  time,  when 
she  would  detail  for  them  all  her  recollec- 
tions of  the  early  days  of  the  establish- 
ment of  their  community;  relate  to  them 
traits  of  the  virtues  she  had  seen  prac- 
ticed by  the  ancient  sisters,  now  so  long 
departed;   and  even,  yielding  to  the  de- 


AVK      MARIA. 


173 


sires  of  their  filial  love,  tell  thorn  all  the 
particuhirs  of  her  own  early  life  and  cull 
to  relijfion,  eaptivatini^  their  attention  by 
a  narration  full  of  siniplieity  and  naivete, 
while  she  excited  their  udiuiration  by  her 
care  to  humiliate  and  abase  herself.     Nev- 
er referring  in  any  way  to  circunistanees 
that  Avould    redound    to   her   credit,   she 
omitted   nothing   that   was  calculated   to 
lessen  it  in  the  estimation  of  her  hearers. 
But,  to  return  to  the  last  i)erio«l  of  the 
superiority   of  this  excellent  mother,  we 
have  only  to  add  that  during  these  six 
years  she  had  not  to  mourn  the  loss  of 
one  of  her  daughters,  and  our  Lord,  dur- 
ing that  time,  augmented  her  family  with 
a  great  number  of  subjects,  and  prospered 
them  in  all  points.     The  last  chapter  that 
was  held  before  her  deposition  she  seemed 
intensely  anxious  to  imprint  indelibly  in 
the   hearts    of  her   daughters   the   deep- 
est sense  of  their  holy  obligations.     She 
dwelt  above  all  on  the  holy  office;  "my 
dear  Sisters,"  she  said  in  the  most  earnest 
voice,  "  I  entreat  you  to  attend  to  what  I 
say  to-day  as  if  these  words  were  the  last 
I  am  ever  to  speak  to  you.     I  express  the 
desire  I  have  most  at  heart,  and  nothing 
can  give  me  more  delight  than  to  have 
this  desire  gratified."    Then,  in  touching 
terms,  she  supplicated  them  to  employ  all 
their  strength   and  every  talent  they  pos- 
sessed in  the  due  recitation  of  the  divine 
oflice,  beseeching  them  to  regard  it  prac- 
tically as  the  first  and  most  sacred  of  their 
obligations.     "  God  pours  forth  His  bene- 
diction on  religious  houses  in  proportion 
to  the  fervor  and  care  with  which  they  ac- 
quit  themselves  of  this  duty.     It  is  the 
calling^  the  office  of  the  choir  sisters,  and 
even  those  of  the  community  who  are  ac- 
cidentally dispensed  from  tlie  chaunt,  can 
do  nothing  better  than  to  assist  at  the  dif- 
ferent hours.     They  thus  offer  the  highest 
worship  to  God,  and  merit  a  share  in  the 
graces  which  the   Church  attaches  to  the 
recitation  of  the  divine  office."     The  sis- 
ters listened  to  her  with  the  deepest  re- 
spect, eagerly  receiving  her  last  words  of 
advice  and  her  last  blessing  as  superior. 
[to  be  contixuku.] 


Thirty  Days'  Prayrr  to  Saint  Joseph, 

Cliaitle  Si)ouHc  ot  the  ever  Iiniunculutc  aiul  Bles- 
sed Virgin  Mary,  and  repuk-d  fiither  of 
Jesus  ChrUt. 


TO  OBTAIN  A  HAPPY  DEATH,  AND  OTHER 
GOOD  INTENTIONS. 


Ever  blessed  and  glorious  Joseph,  kind 
and  indulgent  Father,  and  compassionate 
friend  of  all  in  sorrow,  through  that  bitter 
grief  with  which  thy  heart  was  saturated 
when  thou  didst  behold  the  sufiefingsof  the 
Infant  Saviour,  and  in  prophetic  view  didst 
contemplate  His  most  ignominious  passion 
and  death,  take  pity,  I  beseech  thee,  on  my 
poverty  and  necessities;  counsel  me  in  my 
doubts,  and  console  me  in  all  my  anxieties. 
Thou  art  the  good  father  and  protector  of 
orphans,  the  advocate  of  the  defenceless,  the 
patron  of  those  who  are  in  need  and  deso- 
lation. Do  not  then  disregard  the  petition 
of  thy  poor  child  j  my  sins  have  drawn 
down  upon  me  the  just  displeasure  of  my 
God,  and  hence  I  am  surrounded  M'ith  sor- 
rows. To  thee,  O  amiable  guardian  of  the 
poor  neglected  family  of  Nazareth,  do  1  lly 
for  shelter  and  protection.  Listen  then,  I 
entreat  of  thee,  with  a  father's  solicitude, 
to  the  earnest  prayer  of  thy  poor  supplicant, 
an<l  obtain  for  me  the  objects  of  my  peti- 
tion. I  ask  it  by  the  infinite  mercy  of  the 
eternal  Son  of  God,  which  induced  Him  to 
assume  our  nature,  and  be  born  into  this 
world  of  sorrow.  I  ask  it  by  the  grief 
which  filled  thy  heart,  when,  ignorant  of 
the  mystery  wrought  in  thy  Immaculate 
Spouse,  thou  didst  fear  thou  shouldst  be 
separated  from  her. 

I  ask  it  by  that  weariness,  solicitude,  and 
suffering,  which  thoa  didst  endure  when 
thou  soughtest  in  vain  at  the  inns  of  Beth- 
lehem a  shelter  for  the  Sacred  Virgin,  and 
a  birth-place  for  the  Infant  God,  and, 
when  being  every  where  refused,  thou 
wert  obliged  to  consent  that  the  Queen  of 
Heaven  should  give  birth  to  the  world's 
Kedeemer  in  a  wrctcheil  stable.  I  ask  it 
by  that  most  sad  and  painful  duty  imposed 
on  thee,when,  the  Divine  Child  being  eight 


174 


AVE       MARIA. 


days  old,  thou  wurt  obliged  to  inflict  a  deep 
wound  on  His  tender  body,  and  tlius  be  the 
first  to  make  flow  that  sacred  blood  which 
was  to  wash  away  the  sins  of  tlie  world. 
I  ask  it  by  the  sweetness  and  puwer  of 
that  sacred  name,  Jesus,  which  thou  didst 
confer  on  the  adorable  Infant.  I  ask  it 
by  that  mortal  anguish  inflicted  on  thee 
by  the  prophecy  of  holy  Simeon,  which 
declared  the  child  Jesus  and  his  holy  Mo- 
ther, the  future  victims  of  their  love  and 
our  sins.  I  ask  it  through  that  sorrow  and 
anguish  which  filled  thy  soul,  when  the 
angel  declai-ed  to  thee  that  the  life  of  the 
Child  Jesus  was  sought  ))y  His  enemies, 
from  whose  impious  designs  thou  wert 
obliged  to  fly  with  Him  and  His  blessed 
Mother  into  Egypt.  I  ask  it  by  all  the 
pains,  fatigues  and  toils  of  that  long  and 
perilous  pilgrimage.  I  ask  it  by  all  the  sor- 
rows thou  didst  endure,  when  in  Egypt 
thou  wert  not  able,  even  by  the  sweat  of 
thy  brow,  to  procure  poor  food  and  cloth- 
ing for  thy  most  poor 'family.  I  ask  it  by 
all  the  grief  thou  didst  feel  each  time  the 
Divine  Child  asked  for  a  morsel  of  bread, 
and  thou  hadst  it  not  to  give  Him.  I  ask  it 
by  all  thy  solicitude  to  preserve  the  Sacred 
Child  and  the  Immaculate  Mary,  during 
tliy  second  journey,  when  thou  wert  ordered 
to  return  to  thy  native  country.  I  ask  it 
by  thy  peaceful  dwelling  in  Nazareth,  in 
which  so  many  joys  and  sorrows  were 
mingled.  I  ask  it  by  thy  extreme  afllic- 
tion,  in  being  three  3ays  deprived  of  the 
company  of  the  adorable  Child.  I  ask  it 
by  thy  joy  at  finding  Him  in  the  Temple, 
and  by  the  ineff*able  consolation  imparted 
to  thee  in  the  cottage  of  Nazareth,  with  the 
company  and  society  of  the  little  Jesus.  I 
ask  it  by  that  wonderful  condescension  by 
which  He  subjected  Himself  to  thy  will. 
I  ask  it  through  that  dolorous  view,  con- 
tinually in  thy  mind,  of  all  thy  Jesus  was 
to  8uff*er.  I  ask  it  by  that  painful  contem- 
plation, which  made  thee  foresee  the  divine 
little  hands  and  feet,  now  so  active  in 
serving  thee,  one  day  to  be  pierced  with 
cruel  nails;  that  head,  which  rested  gently 
on  thy  bosom,  ci-owned  with  sharp  thorns; 
that  delicate  body,  which  thou  didst  ten- 


derly fold  in  thy  mantle  and  press  to  thy 
heart,  stripped  and  extended  on  a  cross.  I 
ask  it  by  that  heroic  sacrifice  of  thy  will 
and  best  aftections,  by  which  thou  didst 
ofter  up  to  the  Eternal  Father  the  last  awful 
moment,  when  the  Man-God  was  to  expire 
for  our  salvation.  I  ask  it  by  that  perfect 
love  and  conformity,  with  which  thou  didst 
receive  the  Divine  order  to  depart  from 
this  life,  and  from  the  company  of  Jesus 
andMaiy.  I  ask  it  by  that  exceeding  great 
joy  which  filled  thy  soul,  when  the  Re- 
deemer of  the  world,  triumphant  over  death 
and  hell,  entered  into  the  possession  of  His 
kingdom,  and  conducted  thee  also  into  it 
w;ith  especial  lionors.  I  ask  it  through 
Mary's  glorious  assumption,  and  through 
that  interminable  bliss,  which  with  her 
thou  wilt  eternally  derive  from  the  pres- 
ence of  God.  O  good  Father!  I  beseech 
thee,  by  all  thy  sufferings,  sorrows,  and 
joys,  to  hear  me,  and  to  obtain  the  grant 
of  my  earnest  petitions. — {Here  name  them 
or  reflect  on  them.) — Obtain  for  all  those, 
who  have  asked  thy  prayers,  all  that  is 
useful  to  them  in  the  designs  of  God.  And 
finally,  my  dear  protector,  be  thou  with  me 
and  all  who  are  dear  to  me,  in  our  last 
moments,  that  we  may  eternally  chant 
the  praises  of 

Jesus,  Mary,  and  Joseph,     Amen. 


Grand  Reception  of  the  Right  Rey.  Bishop 
Ryan  at  Jamestown,  N.  ¥. 


Suspension  Bridge,  Jan.  25,  1869. 
Mr.  J.  A.  McMaster  : — 

An  hour  or  too  previous  to  the  arrival 
of  the  train  upon  which  his  Lordship 
came,  an  immense  crowd  might  be  seen  at 
the  depot.  Protestants,  as  if  they  too 
recognized  liim  as  their  Bishop,  seemed 
to  be  as  eager  as  the  Catholics  to  get  a 
glimpse  at  tlie  worthy  successor  of  the 
saintly  Bishop  Timon.  As  the  train 
neared  the  town,  the  Catholics, '  at  the 
order  of  their  pastor,  Rev.  T.  Cahil,  fell 
into  ranks  and  marched  in  a  regular  line 
before  the  Bishop's  carriage.     When  the 


AVE      MARIA. 


176 


procession  renchod  the  church,  it  opened 
to  let  his  Lordship  ]>ass  between  the  ranks. 

As  he  entered  the  cliurclj,  an  a))pro- 
priate  anthem  was  chanted  by  the  choir 
to  hail  their  future  Bishop,  after  which  he 
gave  his  ])enediction,  and  dismissed  them 
by  thanking  them  kindly  for  the  respect 
and  honor,  as  well  as  for  the  warm  wel- 
come which  they  tendered  to  him.  Next 
day  (Sunday)  the  church  was  thronged  at 
10^  o'clock.  One-third  of  the  congrega- 
tion were  non-catholics,  who  came  to  wit- 
ness the  solemn  rite  of  confirmation  and 
hear  the  simple  and  touching  exhortation 
which  the  Bishop  gave  to  about  two  hun- 
dred candidates  for  that  sacrament.  On 
the  same  day,  the  Rt.  Rev.  Bishop,  ac- 
cording to  previous  announcement,  de- 
livered in  the  town  hall  a  lecture  upon 
the  "Infallibility  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church."  The  audience  was  of  various 
"persuasions."  The  adroitness  and  skill 
of  the  Rt.  Rev.  lecturer  was  shown  to  ad- 
vantage by  meeting  and  refuting  the 
heterodox  opinions  of  many,  while  offence 
was  given  to  none.  His  introduction  was 
artless  and  prepossessing,  the  entire  dis- 
course logical  and  finely  knit  together. 

In  a  word,  for  propriety  and  beauty  of 
diction,  versatility  of  thought,  solidity  of 
reasoning,  and  a  peculiar  vivacity  of  his 
own,  I  have  never,  on  a  similar  occasion, 
heard  nor  felt  anything  which  pleased  me 
more*  Spectatou. 

— Freeman^a  Journal. 


Diocese  of  Dubuque. — A  telegram  from 
Dubuque,  Iowa,  brought  us  last  Wednes- 
day morning,  the  sad  news  of  the  death  of 
Rev.  Daniel  O'Regan,  D.  D.,  ordained  in 
Rome,  for  this  Diocese  and  employed  for 
only  a  few  years,  first  as  Professor  at 
Mt.  St.  Mary's  and  afterwards  pastor  of 
St.  Mary's,  Lancaster.  Deceased  passed 
eleven  years  in  the  Seniinariea  of  St.  Sul- 
pice,  at  Nantes  and  Paris;  and  in  the 
American  College  in  Rome,  where  he  ob- 
tained his  degrees.  He  spent  one  or  two 
years  in  the  Papal  Zouaves,  the  one  desire 
of  his  life  then  being  to  shed  his  blood 


for  the  Vicar  of  Christ  and    the  cause 
he  represents. —  Catholic  Telegraph. 


Religious  Reception.  —  On  Monday, 
Feb.  8th,  at  the  Convent  of  Our  Lady  of 
Mercy,  Poppleton  street,  Miss  Bridget  Har- 
ford of  Georgetown,  D.  C.  (Sister  M.  Ig- 
natius), and  Miss  Teresa  Sinclair  (Sister 
M.  Cecilia)  were  admitted  to  the  habit 
and  white  veil  of  the  Order  of  Mercy  by 
the  Rev.  E.  McColgan.  The  semxon  (a 
most  impressive  and  instructive  one)  was 
delivered  by  the  Venerable  Father  McEl- 
roy,  S.  J.  There  were  also  present  Rev. 
J.  Early,  S.  J.,  Rev.  C.  King,  S.  J.,  Rev. 
F.  Di  !Maria,  S.  J.,  and  the  Rev.  Henry 
Henry  Hoffman  of  Wheeling,  Va. —  Cath- 
olic Mirror. 


^"HiLDREN'S  Department. 


Our  Lady  of  .Ifflighem. 


Our  La«ly  of  Afllighem  is  one  of  the 
most  renowned  medieval  sanctuaries  of 
the  Blessed  Virgin.  It  was  the  crusad- 
ers' favorite  abbey,  the  beloved  church 
of  the  Dukes  of  Lorraine,  of  Boulogne, 
and  of  Brabant,  in  the  heroic  days  of 
Flemish  chivalry.  From  the  hands  of 
the  Abbot  of  Afllighem,  the  Dukes  of 
Brabant  were  wont  to  receive  the  national 
banner,  woven  and  embroidered  by  the 
royal  hands  of  Adelaide,  whose  mortal  re- 
mains repose  within  the  abbey.  Founded 
in  1083  by  Count  Heni^-  of  Lorraine,  en- 
riched by  Godfrey  of  Flanders  and  his 
sainted  mother  Ida,  its  chartxtlarium  con- 
tains, together  with  the  names  of  the 
Dukes  of  Lorraine  and  the  Counts  of 
Flanders,  that  of  Henry  II  of  England. 
Even  from  tlie  christian  camp  in  Syria, 
GeoftVey  IV  of  Lorraine,  remembers,  with 
pious  affection,  our  Lady  of  Afflighem,  and 
recommends  the  abbey  to  the  piety  of  his 
children;  and   on    his    return   from   war, 


176 


iVVE      MARIA. 


makes  his  votive  offerings  at  the  altar  of 
Suint  Peter  aiul  Saint  Paul  in  the  abbey 
chureh.  The  brave  Theodoric,  of  Alsace, 
the  friend  of  St.  Bernard,  the  most  popu- 
lar of  all  the  Flemish  Crusaders,  after 
Godfrey  of  Bouillon,  rivalled  the  afore- 
said princes   in  their  generous  donations. 

But  the  crowning  glory  of  Afiiighem  is 
the  visit  made  to  it  by  the  great  St.  Ber- 
nard. As  the  holy  abbot  passed  before 
the  venerable  statue  of  our  Lady,  and 
humbly  saluted  it  with  the  words  Ave 
Maria,  he  heard  his  salutation  answered 
Salve  Bernarcle!  He  bequeathed  to  Af- 
flighem  his  pastoral  staff,  and  this,  with 
the  chalice  the  saint  used  for  celebrating 
the  Holy  Sacrifice,  is  still  preserved  by  the 
Benedictines  of  Terraonde. 

The  popular  devotion  towards  the  mirac- 
ulous statue  at  Afflighem  increased  tenfold 
after  the  visit  of  the  illustrious  Abbot  of 
Clairvaux.  Thirty  thousand  pilgrims  are 
said  to  have  visited  it  in  one  day ;  and  the 
Abbot  Robert  was  corai)elled  to  build  a 
vast  hospice  for  the  reception  of  the 
knights  of  the  Crusaders. 

But  the  invasion  of  the  Gueux,  and  the 
Calvinistic  wars  of  the  Low  Countries, 
caused  the  venerable  abbey  to  be  burned 
and  pillaged.  In  1580  the  statue  was 
thrown  from  its  base,  and  broken  to 
pieces  ;  and,  out  of  these,  two  statues  were 
made  at  Mechlin  in  1606;  all  the  frag- 
ments and  even  the  dust  of  the  original 
being  carefully  preserved. 

The  last  Prior  of  Afflighem,  before  its 
suppression  at  the  commencement  of  the 
present  century,  D.  Bede  Regaus,  who  col- 
lected all  the  historidal  traditions  of  the 
monastery,  in  fourteen  volumes,  died  in 
1807.  The  Rev.  F.  Veremund  d'Haens, 
one  of  the  last  survivors  of  the  abbey, 
had,  in  1838,  the  happiness  of  reviving  his 
order  in  Belgium,  by  the  establishment  of 
a  monastic  community  atTermonde,  about 
nine  miles  from  Afflighem.  He  died  in 
1846,  and  left  to  his  brethren  one  of  the 
above-mentioned  statues,  which  had  been 
consigned  to  his  care  by  D.  Bedo  Regaus. 

The  monks  of  Termonde,  who  have 
lately  regained  possession  of  the  ruined 


abbey  of  Afflighem,  the  church  of  which 
they  intend  to  restore,  were,  in  1857,  at 
their  own  request,  united  with  the  monks 
of  the  strict  observance  of  Subiaco  ;  and 
when  last  year  the  latter  were,  by  His  Ho- 
liness Pope  Pius  IX,  erected  into  the 
Cassinere  Congregation  of  the  Primitive 
Observance,  the  monastery  of  Termonde 
was  incorporated  with  the  Anglo-Belgiau 
Province  of  the  same  congregation. 

We  may  now  conclude  with  the  words 
of  his  Eminence  Cardinal  Pitra,  to  whose 
learned  researches  we  are  indebted  for  the 
above  particulars,  that  not  only  tlie  illus- 
trious Order  of  St.  Benedict,  to  which 
Belgium  owes  her  catholicity  and  her 
nationality,  but  the  destinies  of  the  coun- 
try itself,  seem  to  converge  around  a  little 
statue  of  an  humble  church  of  Termonde. 
—  Westminster  Gazette. 


^  »  ♦  »  » 


The  Love   of  the  Beautiful. — Place 

a  young  girl  under  the  care  of  a  kind- 
hearted  graceful  woman,  and  she  uncon- 
sciously to  herself  grows  into  a  graceful 
lady.  Place  a  boy  in  the  establishment  of 
a  thorough-going,  straightforward  busi- 
ness man,  and  the  boy  becomes  a  self-re- 
liant, practical  business  man.  Children 
are  susceptible  creatures,  and  circum- 
stances, scenes  and  actions  always  im- 
jjress  them.  As  you  influence  them  not 
by  arbitrary  rules,  nor  by  stern  example 
alone,  but  in  the  thousand  other  ways  that 
speak  through  beautiful  forms,  through 
bright  scenes,  soft  utterances  and  pretty 
pictures,  so  they  will  grow.  Teach  your 
children,  then,  to  love  the  beautiful.  Give 
them  a  corner  in  the  garden  for  flowers ; 
encourage  them  to  put  in  shape  the  hang- 
ing baskets;  allow  them  to  have  their 
favorite  trees ;  lead  them  to  wander  in  the 
prettiest  woodlets;  show  them  where  they 
can  best  view  the  sunsets;  rouse  them  in 
the  morning,  not  wiUi  the  stern  "Time  to 
work,"  but  with  the  enthusiastic  "See  the 
beautiful  sunrise ;"  buy  them  pretty  pic- 
tures and  encourage  them  to  decorate 
their  rooms  each  in  his  or  her  childish 
way. 


AVE   MARIA. 

gt  Nathalie  ^fawvnat,  An'oUA  to  the  ^mm  of  the  §ltsisird  ^ix^x% 


Vol.  V. 


NOTRE  DAME.  INDIANA,  MABOH  20,  1869. 


lo.  12. 


BLOSSOIS  OF  FAITH  AND  LOVE; 

OR, 

Bonqnets  for  e Tf  ry  Seasoi. 


"  Be  liberal  towards  God,  and  God  will  in  return 
deal  liberallj  towards  you." 


FOR  THE  HOLY  SEASON  OF  LENT. 
IV. — Reparation  of  Honor  to  our  Lord. 

During  Passion  Week  "  St.  Gertrude 
resolved  to  say  the  following  prayer,  sal- 
uting the  sacred  Limbs  of  the  Son  of  God 
with  these  words :  *  I  salute  you,  O  pre- 
cious Limbs  !^  And  she  perceived  that 
this  pleased  our  Lord;  and  if  we  desire 
the  same  grace,  let  us  use  the  same 
prayer," 

When  the  Gospel  was  read  on  Passion 
Sunday  (from  St.  John  viii.,  46-59),  at  the 
words  Thou  hast  a  devil  "  she  was  grieved 
in  her  inmost  soul  for  the  contempt 
offered  to  our  Lord ;  and  as  she  could  not 
endure  to  hear  these  words,  she  exclaimed 
in  the  depth  of  her  heart,  in  the  sweetest 
and  most  loving  manner:  'Hail,  vivifying 
gem  of  Divine  nobility  !  Hail,  most  lov- 
ing Jesus !  unfading  Flower  of  human 
dignity  !  Thou  art  my  sovereign  and  only 
good.'  And  this  benign  Lord,  to  reward 
these  testimonies  of  affection,  inclined 
tenderly  towards  her,  and  whispered  to 
her :  '  I  am  thy  Creator,  Redeemer  and 
Lover.  I  left  My  beatitude  to  redeem  thee 
by  a  bitter  death  !'  Then  all  the  saints, 
being  rapt  in  admiration  of  the  marvel- 
lous friendship  which  He  manifested  to 
her,  praised  God  for  it  with   the  greatest 


joy.  Our  Lord  then  said  to  her :  '  Who- 
ever salutes  Me,  as  you  have  done,  in  re- 
paration for  the  blasphemies  and  outrages 
which  are  poured  forth  on  Me  throughout 
the  world,  when  he  is  tempted  at  the  hour 
of  his  death  and  accused  by  the  demon, 
will  be  consoled  by  Me  with  the  same 
words  with  which  I  have  consoled  you, 
and  I  will  testify  the  same  affection  to- 
wards him ;  and  if  the  saints  were  thus 
amazed  at  the  words  I  whispered  into 
your  ear,  how  astonished  and  amazed  will 
be  the  enemies  of  his  soul  when  they  shall 
see  him  so  marvelously  consoled  by  My 
goodness !' " 

Oh,  boundless  generosity  of  our  benefi- 
cent ^faster,  who  seems  unable  to  testify 
sufficient  gratitude^  so  to  speak,  for  the 
poor  tributes  offered  Him  !  Oh,  Lover,"  of 
all  lovers  the  most  loving,"  as  His  faith- 
ful Gertrude  could  exclaim  in  the  fullness 
of  her  heart — who  studies  how  to  reward 
in  a  manner  worthy  the  Deity,  the  little 
offerings  we  should  be  but  too  happy  to 
bring  to  His  sacred  feet,  especially  during 
this  holy  season,  without  a  thought  of  re- 
compense. 

During  Holy  Week,  St.  Gertrude  sainted 
the  precious  Body  of  our  Lord  by  repeat- 
ing these  words  three  hundred  and  sixty- 
five  times:  "Not  my  will,  but  Thine  be 
done,  O  most  loving  Jesus."  At  the  In- 
troit  of  the  Mass  on  Wednesday,  "  In  the 
name  of  Jesus  let  every  knee  bow,"  Ac, 
she  bent  her  knees  in  honor  of  this  holy 
name,  to  repair  all  the  negligence  she  had 
committed  in  this  matter;  perceiving  that 
her  Lord  was  pleased  with  this,  she  knelt 
again  at  the  words  "  in  heaven,"  to  supply 
for  the  negligence  of  the  saints  when  in 
this  life ;  at  "  on  earth,"  she  made  another 


178 


AVE     MARIA 


genuflection,  in  satisfaction  for  the  negli- 
gence of  the  faithful;  and  at  the  woicIb 
"in  hell,"  she  again  knolt  to  atone  for  the 
negligence  of  the  damned.  The  delight 
which  this  chosen  soul  thus  gave  the  whole 
court  of  heaven,  and  the  reward  promised 
by  Him  whose  honor  she  was  always  so 
anxious  to  promote,  it  were  needless  here 
to  quote  :  they  were  her  own^  in  which  no 
soul  less  pure  and  fervent  could  hope  to 
share.  For  us,  striving  to  imitate  her  in 
our  imperfect  way,  the  words  of  the  Spir- 
itual Combat  arc  sufticieut  encouragement, 
namely,  "  that  a  single  aspiration,  an  ejac- 
ulatory  prayer,  a  genuflection,  the  least 
mark  of  respect  for  the  divine  Majesty,  is 
of  greater  value  than  all  the  treasures  of 
the  earth  ;"  and  as  St.  Teresa  beautifully 
says,  "  It  will  be  a  great  comfort  at  the 
hour  of  our  death,  to  see  we  are  going  to 
be  judged  by  Him  Avhom  we  have  loved 
a,bove  all  things."  Such  love  we  know 
cannot  exist  without  seeking  to  gratify 
the  Beloved  by  many  of  these  little  tokens. 


V. — Devotions  to  the  Sacred  "Wounds. 

"  Jesus,  Saviour  of  the  world,  have 
mercy  on  lue ! — Thou  to  whom  nothing  is 
impossible  save  to  refuse  mercy  to  the 
wretched." 

"O  Christ,  who  by  Thy  Cross  hast  re- 
deemed the  world,  hear  us  !" 

"  Hail,  Jesus,  my  loving  Spouse  !  I  sal- 
ute Thee  in  the  ineftable  joys  of  Thy  Di- 
vinity; I  embrace  Thee  with  the  affection 
of  all  creatures,  and  I  kiss  the  sacred 
Wound  of  Thy  love." 

"  The  Lord  is  my  strength  and  my 
salvation." 

These  four  aspirations  were  taught  by 
our  Saviour  Himself  to  St.  Gertrude  ;  and 
she  knew  by  inspiration  that  when  any 
one  repeats  one  of  these  little  ejaculations 
five  times,  "  in  honor  of  the  Five  Wounds 
of  the  Lord,  kissing  them  devoutly,  add- 
ing some  prayers  or  good  works,  and 
oftering  them  through  the  sweetest  Heart 
of  Jesus  Christ,  which  is  the  organ  of  the 
Most  Holy  Trinity,  they  will  be  most  ac- 
ceptable to  God." 


VI. — Devotions   to   tpe   Mother  host 

80UR0WFUL. 

"O  afflicted  Mother,  I  will  not  leave 
thee  to  weep  alone;  I  will  mingle  my 
tears  with  thine.  I  this  d.iy  ask  of  thee 
to  obtain  for  me  a  continual  and  tender 
remembrance  of  the  Passion  -of  Jesus 
Christ  and  of  thine,  so  that  all  the  days  I 
have  yet  to  live  maybe  employed  itt_\teep- 
ing  over  thy  sorrows." 

This  was  one  of  St.  Alphonstfs  Liguori's 
tender  ejaculations  to  the  sweet,  sorrow- 
ful Mother  whose  suflt'rings  can  never  be 
forgotten  by  souls  that  truly  feel  the 
mournful  history  of  the  Passion.  What 
more  simjile  and  expressive  petition  could 
we  adopt  for  a  daily  address  to  the 
"Queen  of  martyrs!"  Equally  fervent 
and  touching  is  the  aspiration  of  St. 
Philip  Neri: 

"O  most  sweet  Heart  of  ^[ary,  pierced 
with  the  sword  of  grief!  I  am  the  cause  of 
at  least  one  part  of  thy  dolors ;  wherefore 
I  will  spend  this  day  in  asking  pardon  for 
it,  and  in  promising  thee  to  love  thee 
henceforward." 

There  is  a  favorite  devotion  in  France, 
which  from  its  simplicity  is  well  adapted 
for  general  use.  "It  is  to  perform,  for 
love  of  the  most  holy  Virgin,  and  \cith  her, 
the  Way  of  the  Cross,  pausing  at  each 
station  in  the  usual  way  to  pray."  No 
particular  form  of  prayer  is  required  for 
the  practice  of  this  devotion.  A  "  Hail 
I^[ary"  is  recommended  at  every  station, 
with  the  prayer:  "  Holy  Mother,  impress 
deeply  on  my  heart  the  wounds  of  my  cru- 
cified Jesus ;"  or  a  verse  from  the  Stahat 
Mater.  When  time  presses,  the  verse 
or  the  cjaculatory  prayer  is  sufficient  at 
each  station.  In  France  an  Indulgence  is 
attached  to  this  practice,  and  great  bless- 
ings and  graces  are  said  to  be  gained  by  it. 


No.  2.— MONTH  OF  SAINT  JOSEPH. 

"I  took  for  my  advocate  aod  master 
the  glorious  St.  Joseph,"  writes  the  se- 
raphic Teresa.     "  Would  that  I  could  per- 


AVE     MARIA. 


179 


suadc  all  men  to  be  devout  to  thin  glorious 
saint,  l)y  reason  of  the  great  experience 
I  have  had  of  the  blessings  he  obtains 
from  God.  I  have  never  known  any  one 
who  was  truly  devoted  to  him,  who  per- 
formed particular  <ievotions  in  his  honor, 
that  did  not  advance  more  in  virtue;  for 
he  assists  in  a  special  manner  those  souls 
who  recommend  themselves  to  him." 

Of  the  particular  devotions  thus  warmly 
recommended,  there  can  be  none  more 
glorious  to  St.  Joseph,  more  consoling  and 
beneficial  to  ourselves  than  that  which 
has  consecrated  to  him  the  entire  month 
of  March.  Sanctioned  by  the  universal 
Church,  zealously  j>romoted  by  her  holy 
priesthood,  its  popularity  (if  the  term  is 
admissible)  with  all  nations,  classes  and 
ages  is  indicated  by  the  several  publica- 
tions under  the  general  name  oH  Month  of 
St.  Joseph,  whic'n  have  already  appeared.  In 
these  little  volumes,  sacerdotJil  zeal,  pro- 
found erudition,  lofty  eloquence  and  glow- 
ing love  have  combined,  to  bring  worthy 
offerings  to  the  feet  of  the  glorious 
patriarch. 

Our  simple  bouquet  for  the  season  will, 
therefore,  be  principally  made  uj)  of  what 
may  be  called  wild-flowers  of  devotion, 
gathered  from  private  sources,  and  ofl'ered 
in  the  two-fold  hope  of  filling  some  little 
corner  of  the  shrine,  and  introducing  them 
to  the  notice  of  others  who  may  perchance 
find  something  to  suit  their  taste  in  open- 
ing bud  or  fragile  spray.  For  it  has  often 
been  remarked  by  fervent  clients  of  St. 
Joseph,  that  even  amid  the  general  in- 
crease of  devotions  in  his  honor  there  is  not 
still^a  sufficient  variety  of  short,  i)lain  and 
siniple  prayers  to  meet  the  general  wants. 
The  Ave  Joseph,  indeed,  is  such  a  prayer, 
one  which  should  be  as  familiar  to  the 
heart  and  tongue  as  the  Ave  Maria,  and 
which,  like  it,  would  never  become  weari- 
some. It  is  a  pity  that  this  prayer  is  not 
to  be  found  in  every  prayer-book.  Con- 
fined as  it  is  mostly  to  the  books  intended 
for  the  month,  how  many  thousands  of 
cfitholics  are  there  who  have  never  heard 
of  that  salutation : 

"  Hail,  St.  Joseph,  favored  with  grace, 


Jesus  j^nd  Mary  are  with  thee :  blessed  art 
thou  among  men,  and  blessed  is  Jesus,  the 
Son  of  thy  spouse.  Holy  Joseph,  nursing- 
father  of  Jesus,  and  spouse  of  the  Ira- 
maculate  Mother  of  (Jod,  pray  for  us  sin- 
ners, now,  an<l  at  the  hour  of  our  death. 
Amen." 

So  closely  re8eml)ling  the  "  Hail,  Mary," 
it  is  just  the  prayer  to  be  easily  committed 
to  memory,  to  be  repeated  from  lisping 
childhood  to  decrepid  old  age,  in  sickness 
and  health,  in  joy  and  in  sorrow,  in  the 
busy  hours  of  day  and  in  the  wakeful  hours 
of  night.  The  children  of  Mary  who  love 
to  salute  their  sweet  Queen  as  often  as 
j)ossible  in  her  own  prayer,  cannot  find  a 
difficulty  in  paying  a  similar  homage  to 
her  beloved  spouse.  The  Ave  Joseph  has 
this  ])roperty,  also,  in  common  with  the 
Are  Maria,  that  it  readily  adapts  itself  to 
all  kinds  of  spiritual  exercises,  and,  we 
may  say,  makes  particular  ones  of  its  own. 
We  know  of  persons  who,  visiting  a  pic- 
ture or  image  of  St.  Joseph,  without  a 
prayer-book,  have  felt  the  toant  of  some- 
thing;  till,  on  becoming  familiar  with  the 
'''■Ave  Joseph"''  it  became  a  custom  to  re- 
peat it  a  certain  number  of  times  for  any 
set  purpose:  for  example,  three  times  in 
honor  of  the  favors  conferred  by  the  Holy 
Trinity  on  the  Saint;  twelve  times  in 
honor  of  our  Saviour's  Childhood  and  His 
subjection  to  him;  or  thirty  times  in  honor 
of  the  number  of  years  that  he  was  the 
head  of  the  Holy  Family.  Sometimes,  too, 
the  prayer  seems  to  suggest  the  use  of  the 
beads  in  repeating  a  decide  or  the  first 
part  of  the  Rosary,  altering  the  words  of 
the  mysteries  to  suit  the  part  which  St. 
Joseph  bore  in  each.  What  a  simple  de- 
votion is  this,  yet  how  applicable  for  those 
who  cannot  occupy  themselves  in  mental 
prayer  at  such  visits.  And  Mary's  beads 
adapt  themselves  so  readily  to  honoring 
or  invoking  Joseph!  It  sometimes  would 
seem  to  her  children  that  our  dear  Lady 
takes  a  peculiar  pleasure  in  seeing  them 
put  to  this  use.  The  thought  may  be  a 
foolish  one.  What  is  certain,  however,  is 
that  favors  for  which  many  prayers  had 
been  earnestly  recited,  were  obtained  im- 


180 


AVE     MARIA, 


mediately  after  "the  beads  were  said"  in 
this  way.  This  we  know  to  have  occurred, 
especially  in  a  case  of  great  trouble  of 
mind  which  rendered  sleep  impossible, — 
during  the  first  or  second  decade  to  St. 
Joseph,  slumber  would  steal  on — calm, 
quiet  and  refreshing.  The  person  thus 
relieved  wishes  it  made  known  in  this  man- 
ner, that  the  devotion  maybe  widely  spread 
through  the  columns  of  the  Avb  Maria,  to 
the    glory   of  God   and  the  honor  of  the 

"  sweet  spouse  of  our  Lady." 

Mart. 


Good  Friday. 

By  Rev.  Xavier  D.  McLeod. 

0  mighty  waters!  wherefore  do  ye  sleep? 

What  fetters  your  proud  waves'  exulting  spring? 
There  swept  a  voice  athwart  the  shuddering  deep, 
"  They  crucify  my  King!" 

What  is  the  agony  that  rocks  thee  so 

O,  solemn  earth  ?  What  do  these  horrors  bring?— 
The  answer  bursts  with  a  convulsive  throe, 

"  They  crucify  my  King !" 

Why  art  Thou  wrapt  in  gloom,  O  land  of  stars  ? 
WTiy  o'er  the  noon  doth  midnight  spread  her 
wing  ? — 
Moaned  the  response  from  Heaven's  o'erclouded 
bars, 
"  They  crucify  my  King !" 

Woman  beneath  the  Cross  where  He  is  nailed, 
Why  weepest  thou?    Who  is  this  suffering  one? 

She  wrung  her  weak  hands  piteously,  and  wailed, 
"  He  is  mine  only  Son  1" 

How  sinned  He,  that  they  doomed  Him  to  the  Cross  ? 

"  He  healed  their  sick  ;  restored  their  blind,"  she 
said, 
"  And  when  they  sought  a  grave  to  weep  their  loss, 

He  gave  them  back  their  dead." 

1  looked,  and  fell. — Upon  His  thorn-wreathed  brow 
The  death  sweat  mingled  with  great  drops  of  blood: 

And  from  His  feet  the  life-tide  trickling  slow. 
Streamed  down  the  accursed  wood. 

A  red  stain  marred  the  lips  so  deadly  pale 
Whose  gasping  marked  the  ebbing  of  life's  sand; 

And  the  white  fingers  clenched  upon  the  nail 
That  pierce  the  tortured  hand. 


Shuddering,  the  howling  multitude  was  awed. 
As  His  great  throes  of  anguish  shook  the  tree; 

And  a  strong  cry  rung  forth,  "  My  God !  My  God  I 
Thou  hast  forsaken  Me !" 

O  King  !  O  God !  lay  not  on  me  this  blame. 
By  those  torn  hands ;  that  rent  and  bleeding  side ; 

That  crown  of  thorns ;  that  death  of  pangs  and  shame, 
Mercy,  O  Crucified! 

By  Thy  dear  Mother's  tears,  Tliine  own  last  look. 
By  all  that  entrance  to  Thy  kingdom  wins, 

O  blot  forever  from  Thy  dreadful  book, 
The  record  of  my  sins ! 

Help  me  to  pray ;  to  keep  an  humble  fast ; 

To  liave  a  fixed  immutable  faith  to  shine 
In  all  good  works  of  love,  that  so  at  last, 

Thy  glory  may  be  mine ! 


THE  FLEItmiNCiS. 


BT    MRS.    AXKA    U.    DORSET. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
The  Floating  Shadow. 

"  Don't  forget  old  friends,  George," 
said  the  Elder. 

"No  fear  of  that,  sir,"  he  replied,  while 
they  shook  hands ;  then,  with  a  frank  au- 
dacity, full,  however,  of  an  honest  purpose 
to  fight  his  battle  out  single-handed,  he 
added :  "  Since  I  am  sure  of  your  friend- 
ship, sir,  may  I  hope  for  something  more?" 

"  You  could  not  be  too  near  to  us, 
George,"  said  the  Elder,  something  at  a 
loss  how  to  answer  him ;  but  the  sincerity 
of  his  soul  asserted  itself,  and  he  merely 
uttered  the  simple  truth. 

''  And  you,  Mrs.  Flemming — you  know 
I  want  Eva  for  my  wife,"  he  blurted  out. 

"  You  have  my  best  wishes,  George," 
she  replied,  while  a  soft  womanly  blush 
stole  over  her  face  from  the  shock  of  his 
strange,  outspoken  wooing,  and  the  sud- 
den fulfilment  of  her  hopes  for  her  child. 
"  But  what  does  Eva  say?    Of  course " 

"  Eva,"  he  interrupted,  "  gi^'es  me  no 
encouragement." 

"  And,"  interrupted  Eva,  as  she  stood 


AVE     MARIA. 


181 


with  her,  arm  carelessly  thrown  over 
Hope's  shoulder,  while  an  angry  Hparkle 
flashed  in  her  eyes,  "  you  ask  the  influence 
of  my  parents  when  I  have  already  an- 
swered you,  and  complain  of  me.  Fie 
upon  you,  George  Merrill  !" 

"  Not  80,  Eva !"  ho  answered  bravely. 
"  I  only  do  what  any  other  honorable 
man  would.  I  ask  their  sanction  of  my 
endeavor  to  win  you ;  for  although  you 
have  answered  me,  and  pretty  decidedly 
too,  remember  I  do  not  accept  your  an- 
swer. I  told  you  that;  and  knowing  that 
you  all  have  no  -secrets  from  one  an- 
other, I  speak  openly,  and  tell  you  again, 
before  them  all,  that  I  will  not  give  you  up. 
I  intend  to  persevere  in  my  suit  until  my 
faithfulness  and  constancy  shall  win  you," 
he  added  manfully. 

"  It  will  be  so  much  tim6  wasted, 
George.  Since  you  are  so  veiy  frank  in 
your  wooing,  I  will  bo  equally  so ;  and  I 
positively  decline,  before  all  these  wit- 
nesses, your  oflfer,"  said  Eva  with  spirit. 

"Do  not  be  too  hasty,  Eva!"  said  Mrs. 
Flemming,  whose  breath  was  almost  taken 
away  by  the  scene. 

"  It  is  not  the  result  of  hastiness  or  ca- 
price, mother.  I  like  George  Merrill,  and 
wish  him  well,"  she  replied ;  **  but  he 
might  as  well  know,  up  and  down,  for  good 
and  all,  that  I  will  not  marry  him.  It  is 
no  use  for  him  to  set  his  mind  upon  it, 
and  lose  chances  in  Boston  whicli  will 
suit  him  better.  Besides,  what  is  the  use 
of  a  man  throwing  his  life  backwards  in 
such  waste  ?  For  myself,  I  don't  intend 
to  marry.  I  am  going  to  be  the  old  maid 
of  the  family." 

"  Well,  good-by,  Eva.  All  that  you 
say  makes  no  diiference  to  me.  I  shall 
come  again,  and  perhaps  you  will  change 
your  mind.  I  don't  know  what  ever  I  have 
done  to  make  you  hate  me  so ;"  and 
George  held  out  his  hand  towards  her  to 
shake  hands,  but  she  withheld  hers. 

"  I  do  not  hate  you ;  you  know  that  I 
don't;  I  only  treat  you  as  one  honorable 
person  should  treat  another,  by  telling 
you  the  truth.  I  have  no  idea  of 
marrying.     It  does  not  seem  to  me  that 


marrying  should  be  the  sole  end  and  aim 
of  a  woman's  life  ;  and  I  am  very  happy 
here,"  she  said  bravely. 

"  You  are  heartless,  Eva." 

"  No,  I  am  not  heartless,  George,  and 
you  have  no  right  to  say  that.  I  am  sorry 
to  have  pained  you,  for  you  are  like  a 
brother;  and  Nick  and  Reuben  were  never 
angry  with  me  in  their  lives.  Surely  you 
would  not  like  a  wife  who  could  not  love 
you,"  she  said,  pitying  the  grief  and  dis- 
appointment that  she  saw  surging  up  into 
his  eyes. 

"  Yes,  Eva,  because  I  know  that  in  time 
I  could  win  your  love,"  he  said  quickly, 
hoping  that  she  would  relent. 

"  There  has  been  enough  of  this, 
George.  I  wish  you  well  with  all  my 
heart,"  said  Eva,  to  whom  the  scene  was 
becoming  more  painful  and  embarrassing. 
Then  she  turned  abruptly  away  and  left 
the  room,  without  throwing  another  word 
or  look  towards  him.  About  five  minutes 
later  she  heard  his  horse  galloping  off  as 
if  his  rider  had  dug  the  spurs  pretty 
deeply  into  his  sides. 

No  one  said  a  word  to  Eva  about  George 
Merrill :  indeed,  no  one  saw  her  until  sup- 
per time,  for  she  had  gone  straight  up  to 
her  room,  and  shut  herself  in,  then  had  a 
good  womanly  cry,  for  she  was  both  sorry 
and  exasperated :  sorry  to  have  brought 
such  a  disappointment  into  her  old  school- 
fellow's life,  and  angry  at  his  presump- 
tion in  assuming  the  position  he  did  after 
she  had  positively  rejected  him  ;  but  most 
of  all  was  she  mortified  at  the  scene  which 
had  just  taken  place  in  the  presence  of  the 
family.  Eva  Flemming  could  not  brook 
being  treated  like  a  capricious  child,  when 
she  knew  how  perfectly  in  earnest  she  was, 
and  her  firm  purpose,  as  George  Merrill 
should  find  out  to  his  cost.  After  supper, 
when  they  were  all  gathered  around  the 
old  hearth,  as  usual,  a  casual  observer 
could  have  detected  no  change.  The  fire 
burned  brightly ;  between  the  andirons 
simmered  a  row  of  great  juicy  red  apples  ; 
a  little  farther  off  stood  a  large  stone 
pitcher  of  cider,  slowly  warming;  on 
the    other   side    the  cat    was  curled    up 


18J 


AVE     MARIA. 


asleep  at  Reuben's  feet,  as  he  sat  reading. 
They  talked  to  each  other,  trying  to  be 
cheerful ;  but  there  was  a  restraint ;  and 
one  after  another  they  dropped  into 
silence  which  nothing  interrupted  except 
the  crackling  of  the  fire,  the  rustle  of  pa- 
per, as  the  Elder  and  Reuben — both  read- 
ing— turned  the  pages  of  their  books,  and 
the  sharp,  rapid  click  of  Mrs.  Flemming's 
knitting  needles.  At  last  tlie  Elder  closed 
his  book,  and  looking  around  at  the  seri- 
ous faces,  he  said,  "  It  seems  to  me  that 
you  are  all  uncommonly  quiet  to-night ! 
I  scarcely  feel  at  home,  mother — what  is 
it  all?" 

"  Don't  bother  about  ns,  father.  I  guess 
we  shall  overget  the  trouble,  whatever  it 
is,"  said  Mrs.  Flemming,  in  her  quick, 
sharp  way.  Nicholas  thrust  his  liands 
down  into  his  pockets,  and  tilting 
back  his  chair,  looked  up  at  the  black 
rafters  festooned  with  sweet-smelling 
herbs  overhead,  and  whistled  to  himself. 
Reuben  laid  his  book  down  over  his  knee, 
and  turned  his  soft,  mild  eyes  inquiringly 
from  one  to  another.  Hope  felt  her  face 
redden  as  if  she  were  the  guilty  one,  and 
stole  her  hand  down  and  folded  her  sis- 
ter's lovingly  in  it ;  but  she — Eva — a  little 
paler  than  usual,  lifted  her  handsome 
eyes,  and  looked  steadily  at  the  unquiet 
countenances  around  her,  a,ndfeU  intui- 
tively that  if  they  were  not  displeased 
with  her,  she  had  at  least  disappointed 
them  all.  Her  affectionate  nature  was 
pained  to  think  that  she  should  be  the 
first  to  create  a  discord  in  the  family  har- 
mony, always  so  perfect ;  but  it  was  a  way 
the  Flemmings  had,  to  have  no  secrets 
from  each  other,  and  speak  out  openly  of 
whatever  troubled  them ;  so  she  took 
heart  and  said: 

"  I  guess,  father,  that  I  am  the  cause  of 
the  quiet  that  you  complain  of.  I'm  afraid 
that  you  are  all  displeased  by  what  I  said 
to  George  Merrill." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  George,  that's  a  fact," 
said  the  Elder ;  "  he's  a  great  favorite  of 
mine,  and  of  all  of  us  ;  and  I  shoiUd  have 
liked  him  well  for  my  son-in-law;  but 
when  that  is  said,  all  is  said  that  is  in  my 


heart  about  H ;  for,  as  much  as  I  like  him, 
I  value  you  and  your  happiness  still  more. 
You  have  not  offended  me,  daughter." 

"  Thank  you,  dear  father,"  said  Eva, 
while  her  voice  trembled  with  emotion. 
It  was  much  for  hor  to  be  assured  that 
her  father,  whom  she  idolized,  was  not  an- 
gry with  her;  but  the  rest 

"  Well !"  said  Nicholas,  "  my  opinion 
is  that  George  is  a  man  that  awy  girl  might 
be  proud  of;  and  it  looks  to  me  like  a  fool- 
ish caprice  to  throw  him  over  like  that." 

"  It  would  be  a  silly  caprice,  and  a 
wicked  one,  too,  Nick,  for  Huldah  to 
throw  i/oti  over ;  but  the  cases,  you  know, 
are  entirely  different,"  said  Eva  with 
spirit.  Nicholas  subsided  and  held  his 
peace,  for  this  came  directly  home  to  him. 

"  George  will  be  a  very  rich  man.  The 
minister  told  me  that  he  had  outlying  lots 
in  Boston ;  that  when  the  city  stretched 
out  to  them — wliioh  it  is  fast  doing — 
George  would  be  worth  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  dollars.  Just  think  of  that, 
now,"  said  Mrs.  Flemming,  with  a  quick 
snap  of  her  fine  black  eyes. 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  that,  mother,  for  his 
own  sake,"  said  Eva  quietly;  "  for  he  will 
more  easily  forget  his  disappointment  up 
here  when  he  takes  hold  on  the  cares  and 
glitter  of  riches.  I  do  not  care  for  money 
myself — at  least  as  the  price  of  what  I 
should  consider  dishonor — for  I  do  not 
love  George  Merrill,  and  if  I  married  him 
for  his  money,  I  should  be  ashamed  to 
look  him  in  the  face." 

"  To  be  sure  you  would,"  said  Hope, 
speaking  for  the  first  time,  "  and  I  should 
be  ashamed  for  you." 

"  George  promised  to  take  me  over  the 
seas  to    see    the   fine  pictures  of  the  old 
masters,"  said  Reuben  with  a  sigh;  "but" 
I  guess  that's  all  up  now."     Even  Reuben 
reproached  her  ;  but  she  laughed  and  said  : 

"  Perhaps  not.  I  think  there  is  some- 
thing between  you  and  the  old  pictures 
that  will  sooner  or  later  bring  you  to- 
gether, Rxiby." 

"Don't  put  such  stuff  into  ^is  head, 
Eva,"  saitl  her  mother,  curtly. 

"  Is  it  stufl",  mother  ?     I  only  meant  to 


AVE      MARIA. 


183 


r 


comfort  him!"  she  ans^red  with  a  sad 
smile,  while  her  eyes  flashed  with  unshed 
tears;  the  strain  was  getting  a  little  too 
mueh  for  lier. 

"  Yes,  I  call  it  downright  stuff.  Reuhen 
must  learii  to  be  useful,  iuid  not  expect  to 
go  about  the  world  mooning,  and  daubing, 
and  doing  nothing  but  read."  Reuben 
sighed,  picked  up  his  book  and  sought 
refuge  on  tlie  heights  of  the  ideal,  and 
soon  forgot  the  family  discussion  going 
on  around  him.  His  mother  always  let 
such  a  douche  down  on  him  that  he  was 
glad  to  escape,  shivering  witli  the  shock 
and  chill  of  it.  "  And  I  think,  Eva,  since 
we  have  come  to  talk  of  it,"  continued 
Mrs.  Flemming,  after  quenching  Reuben, 
"  that  you  have  done  a  very  foolish  thing  to 
reject  George  Merrill." 

"  I  am  sorry, mother,"  she  said  gravely; 
"  but  I  do  not  wish  to  marry — least  of  all 
will  I  marry  George  Merrill." 

"  Many  a  one  just  as  positive  as  you 
are  have  changed  their  mind,"  said  Mrs. 
Flemming.  "There's  Prudence  Rogers ; 
why,  she  and  Sam  hated  each  other  after 
they  got  acquainted,  for  more  than  a  year; 
then  after  all,  gotmarried ;  and  there  was  not 
a  happier  couple  about,  was  there,  father?" 

"And  I  read  once  of  an  audacious  man 
that  beat  and  cufted  and  kicked  a  high- 
born lady  who  had  refused  his  suit ;  and 
she,  either  to  wipe  out  the  insult,  or  be- 
causo  she  was  afraid  tliat  the  next  time 
he  would  kill  her,  married  him.  But  if 
George  has  the  spirit  of  William  of  Nor- 
mandy, he'll  find  no  Matilda  of  Flanders 
in  me,  mother,"  exclaimed  Eva,  whose 
spirit  was  up  so  high  that  she  could  not 
wait  to  hear  the  history  of  Sam  Rogers' 
happy  marriage. 

"  Well,  perhaps  you'll  repent^  Eva;  re- 
pentance and  changing  one's  mind  are  per- 
haps difterent  things,"  said  Mrs.  Flem- 
ming with  a  provoking  smile. 

"  I  shall  never  repent  of  this,  mother, 
rest  assured  of  it.  I  ask  nothing  better 
than  to  stay  here  with  you  and  my  father 
in  the  dear  old  place  where  I  was  born,  as 
long  as  I  live,"  said  Eva  more  quietly. 

"  And  here  you  are  welcome,  my  child, 


as  long  as  you  lire,"  said  the  Elder. 
"  Your  mother  and  I  ought  to  rejoice  if 
we  can  keep  you  ;  for  the  old  place  will 
seem  too  empty  and  silent,  when  yoa  all 
go  away  to  new  homes." 

"  Well,  well,  don't  fret  over  what  I  said, 
Eva.  I  am  outspoken.  I  am  disap- 
pointed ;  there's  no  use  denying  it.  I 
should  be  glad  to  think  I'd  have  yon  with 
me  all  my  life ;  l)ut  1  don't  want  you  to 
be  an  old  maid,  like  that  forlorn  dried  up 
old  aunt  of  Huldah  Sneathen's,"  said  Mrs. 
Flemming,  whose  mother-heart,  always 
true  and  good  in  its  instincts,  M'as  at  last 
touched.  Pride  and  ambition  for  her 
beautiful  child  had  held  sway  long  enough, 
— it  was  pulsing  to  the  right  music  now ; 
and  Eva  went  over,  and  drawing  uj)  a  low 
cushion,  sat  at  her  feet,  and  leaning  upon 
her  knees,  lifted  her  eyes  appealingly  to  her 
fjvce  and  said,  "  Then  you  are  not  angry 
with  me,  darling?" 

"Well — no — I'm  not  angry,"  she  re- 
plied while  she  laid  down  her  knitting  and 
smoothed  the  soft,  golden  brown  hair 
away  from  Eva's  pure  forehead.  *  I  can't 
say  that  I'm  angry,  but  disappointed.  I 
had  counted  so  on  seeing  you  a  great  lady 
down  to  Boston " 

"  Wife  !  wife  !"  exclaimed  the  Elder. 

"  Why  1  mother  !"  said  Hope. 

"  It's  no  use,''  said  Mrs.  Flemming.  "  I 
mean  just  what  I  say.  I  counted  on  see- 
ing her  a  fine  lady  in  Boston,  riding  in  her 
own  carriage  and  dressed  in  rich  silks, 
laces  and  jewels,  and  showing  that  the 
New  Hampshire  hills  are  no  w.ny  behind 
the  flats  of  Massachusetts  in  the  way  of 
handsome  women.  Now  if  that's  a  sin, 
it  is  out,  and  I'm  done  with  it;  so  let  the 
subject  be  dropped." 

Eva  buried  her  burning  face  in  her 
hands.  She  felt  humiliated  to  think  that 
her  own  mother  had  been  having  such 
sordid  thoughts  about  her.  The  Elder  did 
not  speak  for  several  minutes,  but  kept 
walking  up  and  down,  while  the  knitting 
needles  clicked  with  vim.  At  last  the 
Elder  said  slowly,  in  his  kindly,  even 
tones,  "  My  daughter,  you  did  right.  You 
have  my  approval." 


184r 


AVE     MARIA. 


"  Thank  you,  father,"  she  replied  very 
quietly. 

"  Now  let  us  be  as  we  were  before," 
said  Hope,  snuffing  the  candle.  "  I  declare 
I  feel  as  if  we  had  been  in  a  Scotch  mist." 

And  they  tried  "  being  Hn  they  were  be- 
fore ;"  but  the  shadow  had  flitted  over 
them,  and  each  one  had  an  indescribable 
and  indefinite  prevision  that  the  harmony 
of  their  life  was  broken.  But  Mrs.  Flem- 
ming  began  to  talk  of  farm  matters  and 
the  coming  spring  work,  a  subject  always 
fidl  of  interest  to  her,  and  asked,  "What 
are  you  going  to  do  with  that  corner  lot, 
father?     It's  a  perfect  quagmire." 

"  Drain  it,  and  put  down  Swedish  tur- 
nips, I  think." 

"  It's  a  great  waste  of  soil,  I  think. 
They're  nasty  things." 

"  I  like  the  sharp  taste  of  them,  rather," 
he  replied ;  "  they  are  splendid  winter  feed- 
ing for  stock,  and  will  make  your  butter 
look  like  gold,  mother." 

"  Yes,  I  guess  they  will.  I  hope  you'll 
put  down  a  good  lot  of  mercer  potatoes 
on  that  slope ;  they'll  come  early  there, 
and  fetch  a  high  price.  I  shouldn't  won- 
der if  you  get  four  or  five  dollars  a  barrel." 

"  Yes,  they'll  bring  about  that,  if  I  can 
get  them  into  the  market  early  enough. 
But  if  we  have  a  late,  soggy  spring,  how 
then?" 

"  It'll  be  a  poor  chance  for  early  pota- 
toes, and  hard  on  people  who  have  nothing 
but  their  crops  to  depend  on.  Have  you 
seen  the  Deacon  lately,  father?" 

"  No.  I  shall  have  to  see  him  in  a  day 
or  two,  about  that  lumber  business.  Our 
partnership  expires  in  a  month  or  so ;  and 
if  he  should  take  it  into  his  head  to  make 
a  change,  it  will  be  a  great  disappoint- 
ment as  well  as  loss  to  me." 

"  Land-sakes  I  such  a  thought  never  en- 
tered my  head,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Flem- 
ming.  "  Why  !  what  are  you  thinking 
about?  The  idea  of  Deacon  Sncathen 
throwing  you  over  for  anybody  else,  and 
just  now,  too,  when  you  are  clearing  some- 
thing on  your  outlay !" 

"  It  does  seem  like  sheer  nonsense,  even 
to  think  of  such  a  thing,"  put  in  Nicholas, 


who  had  been  amusing  himself  tickling 
the  cat's  ear  with  a  straw.  "The  Deacon 
was  only  talking  about  it  last  night,  and 
seemed  very  anxious  to  know  if  you'd  like 
to  keep  on  for  another  term,  father." 

"Was  he?"  remarked  the  Elder,  fold- 
ing his  hands  behind  him,  while  he  still 
walked  up  and  down.  "  I  hope  he  will 
continue  in  the  same  mind.  The  business 
is  a  profitable  one." 

[to  be  continued.] 


^  »  ♦  « » 


Ix  answer  to  one  of  the  irreligious  pa- 
pers of  Paris,  which  had  the  effrontery  to 
assert  that  the  "  clerical  party"  were  duly 
convicted  of  having  instigated  the  assas- 
sination of  Burgos,  the  Univers  demands 
the  production  of  proofs  for  so  absurd  and 
monstrous  an  assertion.  In  the  mean, 
time,  it  says,  we  ask  of  this  writer,  who, 
in  the  first  instance,  are  responsible  for 
this  crime?  They  are  those  who,  in  an 
entii'ely  catholic  nation,  were  the  first  to 
outrage  the  public  feeling  by  persecuting 
in  all  sorts  of  ways,  plundering  and  ex- 
pelling priests  and  nuns.  Who  closed 
the  churches,  or  levelled  them  to  the 
ground  ?  Who  desecrated  the  sanctuaries, 
calumniated  the  bishops,  excited  against 
the  clergy  the  worst  instincts  of  the  dregs 
of  the  population?  Who  the  other  day, 
after  having  oj)enly  and  publicly  pro- 
claimed his  unbelief,  went  to  the  convent 
of  Huelges,  the  most  celebrated  in  Spain, 
in  order  to  take  an  inventory  of  what  it 
possessed,  and  entering  the  church  walked 
with  his  hat  on  his  head  and  a  cigar  in 
his  mouth  to  the  choir,  where,  seating  him- 
self in  the  abbatial  stall,  he  caused  the 
affrighted  nuns  to  appear  before  him,  and 
addressed  them  in  terms  the  most  insult- 


ing 


?     This  man  was  the  Civil  Governor 


of  Burgos,  and  he  acted  in  the  name  of 
Prim,  Serrano  and  Topete.  Those  men, 
by  the  provocation  which  they  have  given, 
are  in  reality  guilty  of  the  crime  of  Bur- 
gos.—  Westminster  Gazette. 

Any  sort  of  humility  which  clashes  with 
charity  is  undoubtedly  a  false  huniility. 


AVE      MARIA 


185 


fatttum  (Btp. 

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men  -  turn       Ve  -  ne  -  re  -  mur 
to  -  que      Laos   et    Ju  -  bi 


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186 


AVE      MARIA. 


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ExtraTagance  and  Excesses  of  the  Times. 


Sermon  of  the  Most  Rev.  Archbishop 
Spalding. 


In  his  sermon  on  last  Sunday,  the  first 
of  Lent,  the  Most  Rer.  Archbishop  took 
occasion,  from  the  solemn  occasion  of  the 
Lenten  season  of  fast  and  penance,  to  warn 
the  faithful  against  the  growing  extrava- 
gance and  excesses  of  the  times.  Amuse- 
ments and  fashion  are  indulged  in  and 
followed,  either  with  moderation  or  to  ex- 
cess ;  and  while  the  catholic  Church  has 
never  been  opposed  to  whatever  is  moder- 
ate and  reasonable,  she  has  always  set  the 
seal  of  her  condemnation  on  all  that  is 
inordinate,  excessive  and  dangerous  to 
morals.  During  the  holy  penitential  sea- 
sons of  Lent  and  Advent,  even  what  might 
be  lawful  at  other  times  should  be  cheer- 
fully sacrificed  and  avoided  in  a  spirit  of 
self-denial  and  of  penance  for  past  sins: 
but  at  all  times  and  in  all  seasons,  what- 
ever is  excessive  and  dangerous  should  be 
shunned  by  the  true  christian  as  the  hiss- 
ing of  a  serpent. 

Thus,  while  modest  and  delicately  con- 
ducted dances,  indulged  in  at  proper  times 


and  with  suitable  moderation,  have  not 
been  censured  by  the  Church  of  God,  those 
which  are  indelicate  and  improper  either 
in  their  character  or  in  their  moral  tend- 
ency have  been  reproved ;  and  the  as- 
sembled Bishops  of  the  United  States  in 
the  late  Plenary  Council  of  Baltimore, 
in  their  official  Pastoral  Letter,  solemnly 
warned  all  the  faithful  against  all  such 
fashionable  dances,  the  more  dangerous 
because  the  more  fashionable. 

Thus  also,  while  propriety  and  good 
taste,  with  neatness  in  dress  and  a  decent 
regard  to  accredited  usage,  are  not  only 
not  censurable,  but  even  commendable, 
the  Most  Rev.  preacher  united  with  the 
Sovereign  Pontiff,  in  inveighing  against 
the  glaring  and  utterly  censurable  extrav- 
agance in  dress,  alas!  so  common  in  our 
day.  He  depicted  it  as  ruinous  in  its  ex- 
pense, as  drying  up  the  fountains  of 
christian  charity,  by  absorbing  for  the 
decoration  of  the  body — which  is  but  a 
heap  of  animated  dust — all  the  surplus 
means  furnished  by  even  the  most  ample 
patrimony,  a  portion  of  which,  at  least, 
should  be  given  to  the  poor.  The  great 
Roman  Pontifi*,  with  a  keen  insight  into 
human  nature,  has  indicated  another  evil 
springing  from  this  frightful  extravagance ; 


AVE      MARIA. 


187 


it  checks  christUn  marriage  by  deterring 
men  from  espousing  women  wiiose  pro«ii- 
gal  expenses  they  cannot  reasonably  hope 
to  meet  without  ruin  to  their  fortunes  and 
those  of  their  families. 

Again,  whilst  modest  and  proper  dra- 
matic representations  are  not  in  them- 
selves wrong,  and  may  be  occasionally 
attended,  outside  the  time  of  the  peniten- 
tial season,  the  3Iost  Rev.  Archbishop 
warned  the  faithful  against  the  sensational 
and  dangerous  drama  so  general,  if  not 
so  fashionable,  at  the  present  day,  and  in 
this  country.  He  denounced  this  species 
of  theatricals  as  openly  improper  and  li- 
centious in  its  character  and  tendency; 
and  he  felt  quite  assured  that,  while  no 
person  of  refined  taste  and  delicate  sense 
of  propriety  could  ever  permit  themselves 
to  assist  at  any  such  gross  performances, 
the  young  and  the  unwary  of  both  sexes 
were  often  allured  to  them  by  the  flaming  ad- 
vertisements, and  prurient  placards  which 
everywhere  meet  the  eye  in  the  papers 
and  on  the  streets;  and  that  the  morals 
of  all  who  attended  could  not  but  be  griev- 
ously wounded  by  such  exhibitions,  over 
which  scarcely  a  veil  of  modesty  is  thrown 
to  conceal  their  inherent  turpitude.  Such 
exhibitions  are  intrinsically  wrong  and 
unlawful  at  all  times,  in  all  seasons,  and  to 
men  fully  as  much  as  to  women,  and  even 
more  so.  He  begged  christian  parents  to 
remember  the  solemn  responsibility  whicli 
weighed  on  them  to  preserve  the  morals 
of  their  children,  for  whose  souls  they 
would  have  a  most  strict  account  to  give 
at  the  dread  bar  of  God  ! 

Finally,  the  Most  Rev.  orator  said,  that 
he  could  scarcely  trust  himself  to  refer  to 
what  was  still  behind  and  was  far  worse 
than  all  this;  an  abomination  leading  to 
the  depopulation  and  desolation  of  the 
land;  to  excesses  worse  than  the  murder 
of  tho  innocents  by  Ilerod,  bccanse  com- 
mitted not  so  much  through  sudden  pas- 
sion or  the  motive  of  cruel  ambition,  but 
with  deliberately  wicked  purpose :  a  prac- 
tice worse,  probably,  than  any  ever  gener- 
ally adopted  even  among  heathens,  but 
which  nevertheless  was  becoming  fright- 


fully common  in  this  enlightened  age  and 
cou)itry,  and  which  was  even  occasionally 
defended  as  an  evidence  of  growing  en- 
lightenment. 

lie  would  not  refer  more  particularly  to 
a  turpitu<le  too  shocking  to  think  of,  one 
which  sliould  not  even  be  named  among 
christians ;  but  he  deemed  it  a  sacred  and 
solemn  duty  to  give  this  warning,  in  gen- 
eral and  sufficiently  intelligible  language; 
as,  though  these  horrible  and  unnatural 
excesses  referred  to  were  almost  unknown 
among  catholics,  and  were  not  as  yet, 
thank  God,  believed  to  have  reached  this 
latitude,  at  least  to  any  great  extent,  they 
were  fast  approaching  us,  and  threatening 
the  ruin  of  our  people,  body  and  soul.  He 
wished  to  j)ut  it  on  record,  that  the  cath- 
olic Church  utterly  abhors  such  abomina- 
tions in  every  form  and  shape  and  under 
whatsoever  pretext  they  are  practised,  as 
an  atrocious  violation  of  the  divine  com- 
mandment— Tiiou  Shalt  xot  Kill. 

Such  was  the  general  import  of  the  grave 
warning  uttered  by  our  Most  Rev.  Arch- 
bishop on  last  Sunday  in  the  cathedral. — 
Catholic  Mirror. 


As  we  go  to  press  we  learn  the  sad  news 
of  the  death  of  Rt.  Rev.  Peter  P.  Lefevre, 
Bishop  of  Zela,  Administrator  of  Detroit^ 
on  Wednesday,  March  3d.  Next  week  we 
will  give  a  full  account  of  the  long  and 
useful  life  and  lamented  death  of  this  emi- 
nent prelate. 

CuARLESTOWN,  MA8S.,Feb.  24, 1869. 
Rev.  and  Dear  Sir:  It  becomes  my 
painful  duty  to  inform  you  of  the  death  of 
one  of  your  life  subscribers,  Mr.  Patrick 
KiviLX,  No.  108,  Bunker  Hill  Street,  who 
departed  this  life  this  morning  at  about 
10  o'clock.  He  was  a  sincere  and  devoted 
client  of  our  Immaculate  Mother,  and  most 
zealous  in  the  discharge  of  every  christian 
duty,  with  a  large  heart  and  a  willing 
hand  to  contribute  to  everything  that 
would  promote  the  honor  and  glory  of 
God  and  the  propagation  of  our  holy  re- 
ligion.    May  his  soul  rest  in  peace. 

Yours  most  sincerly,  E.  C. 


188 


AVE     MARIA 


A  Prayer  to  the  Blessed  Tirfia  Nary. 

For  my  dear  brother.  Her.  JosirH  D.  Bowlki,  on  bii  depMtnre 
for  bU  miMion  of  lore,  September  30, 1858. 


Sweet  Mary !  to  thy  care  I  resign  a  dear  brother, 
Be  to  him,  thou,  as  a  sister  and  mother ; 
As  Queen  of  the  ocean  protect  from  the  wave, 
And  the  souls  for  whom  Jesus  died  help  him  to  save. 

How  calm  shall  his  bark  o'er  the  blue  ocean  glide, 
If  thou  at  the  helm,  sweet"  Mary !  preside. 
Nor  need  he  to  fear,  though  loud  tempests  provoke. 
While  he  leans  upon  thee,  the  sure  anchor  of  Hope, 

He  steers  not  his  course  to  the  Western  shore 
To  gather  its  pearls,  or  rich  golden  store ; 
Ah  no !  but  he  ploughs  through  the  perilous  deep, 
To  wake  the  wild  savage  from  error's  dark  sleep. 

Then,  Star  of  the  Ocean !  shed  on  him  thy  ray ; 
Be  light  in  his  darkness,  a  guide  on  his  way ; 
Shine  over  him  ever,  by  land  and  by  sea, 
Until  he  shall  rest  in  the  harbor  with  thee. 

Sister  M.  de  Sales  Bowles. 

The  loving,  gentle  soul  who  breathed 
this  prayer  on  earth  has  passed  from 
among  us,  and  is  now  we  trust  praying  for 
her   zealous  brother. 


Query. — In  the  Spectator^  576,  the  fol- 
lowing query  was  proposed  by  Dr.  Swift. 
"We  give  it  for  the  benefit  of  our  readers, 
and  ask  them  to  ponder  well  upon  the 
thoughts  which  it  necessarily  must  bring 
to  their  minds : 

"  Supposing  the  body  of  the  earth  were 
a  great  ball  or  mass  of  the  finest  sand,  and 
that  a  single  grain  or  particle  of  this  sand 
should  be  annihilated  every  thousand 
years.  Supposing  then  that  you  had  it  in 
your  choice  to  be  happy  all  the  while  this 
prodigious  mass  of  sand  was  consuming 
by  this  slow  method,  until  there  was  not  a 
grain  of  it  left,  on  condition  you  were  to 
be  miserable  for  ever  after ;  or  supposing 
that  you  might  be  happy  for  ever  after,  on 
condition  you  would  be  miserable  until 
the  whole  mass  of  sand  were  thus  annihi- 
lated at  the  rate  of  one  sand  in  a  thousand 
years;  which  of  these  two  cases  would 
you  make  your  choice?" 


Diocese  of  Fort  Wayae. 

(Official.) 

collections  for  the  popb. 

Fort  Wayne  Cathedral $190  00 

do           St.  Mary's 183  50 

do           St.  Paul's 68  75 

Lafayette,  St.  Mary's 62  00 

do      St.  Boniface 96  70 

Lagro 65  00 

Leo,  Allen  Co 25  00 

Decatur 75  00 

Anderson 41  00 

Avilla 46  00 

Kendallville 20  00 

Laporte,  St.  Peter's 70  00 

do       St.  Joseph's 37  00 

Mishawaka 104  00 

Delphi 44  00 

New  Haven 100  00 

Union  City 23  25 

Hesse  Cassel 40  00 

Blufton  Road 45  00 

Oxford 20  50 

"Winamac 20  00 

Plymouth 63  00 

Goshen 17  00 

Huntington 126  00 

St.  Mary's  Home 12  00 

Dyer 24  00 

Calumet 34  00 

South  Bend 63  00 

Notre  Dame 81  93 

Lowell 6  25 

Peru 54  00 

CHRISTMAS  COLLECTIONS  FOR  THE  ORPHANS. 
1868. 

Fort  "Wayne  Cathedral $371  00 

do           St.  Mary's 132  00 

do           St.  Paul's 63  62 

Lafjvyette,  St.  Mary's 130  33 

"Valparaiso 155  00 

Union  City 34  00 

Millersburg 7  60 

Clark's  Hill 20  00 

Lisfonier 3  50 

Str  Vincent's,  Allen  Co 29  50 

CrawfordsviUc 162  00 

Crown  Point 24  00 

New  Haven 70 ^0 

Laporte,  St.  Peter's 72  00 

do      St.  Joseph's 30  00 

Logansport .*.  103  00 

Peru 67  77 

Kokomo 25  00 


AVE     MARIA 


169 


Columbia  City '. 40  00 

Delphi 40  00 

St.  Mary's  Home 10  25 

Lagro 57  60 

Calumet 70  00 

Westville 6  00 

Besan9on 24  50 

Dyor 25  00 

Mishawaka 53  00 

Plymouth 58  00 

Goshen 30  58 

Muncie 9  00 

Michigan  City 75  00 

Winamac 35  00 

St.  John's 60  00 

Huntington 130  00 

Hesse  Cassel 34  00 

Blnfton  Road 16  31 

Avilla 75  40 

Kendallville 10  50 

Girardot 16  10 

Leo,  AUen  Co 13  00 

Oxford 22  50 

Attica  and  Missions 53  00 

Anderson 53  00 

Lowell,  Lake  Co. 5  00 

West  Creek,  Lake  Co 60  00 

Turkey  Creek 10  00 

South'Bend,  St.  Patrick's 60  35 

Notre  Dame 64  27 

Lowell 6  36 


EASTBR  COLLECTTON  FOB  THE  SEMINASY. 
1868. 

Fort  Wayne  Cathedral 224  70 

do           St.  Mary's Ill  70 

do           St.  Paul's 67  66 

Lafayette,  St.  Mary's .-.  Ill   47 

Anderson 50  00 

Delphi 43  00 

Crawfordsville 144  00 

New  Haven 62  20 

Decatur 45  90 

Columbia 21  20 

Laporte,  St.  Peter's 60  00 

do       St.  Joseph's 24  10 

Hesse  Cassel 24  83 

Kokomo 11  00 

Logansport 94  00 

St.  John's 49  65 

Plymouth 45  75 

Lagro 49  00 

Ojtford 20  00 

Blufton  Road 20  00 

Peru 50  00 

St.  M.iry's  Home 15  00 

Huntington   90  00 

Calumet 23  00 


Mishawaka 66  95 

Notre  Dame 142  03 

South  Bend,  St.  Patrick's 31  16 


From  the  above  statement  of  receipts,  it 
is  evident  that  the  amount  is  by  no  means 
large  enough  to  cover  the  expenses  of  the 
young  men  preparing  themselves  for  the 
priesthood.  In  case  the  collection  on 
Easter  should  fail  to  realize  a  reasonable 
amount,  on  account  of  bad  weather  or 
other  circumstances  preventing  a  full  at- 
tendance of  the  congregation,  the  collec- 
tion should  be  again  made  on  some  follow- 
ing Sunday. 

The  amount  of  the  collection  should  be 
forwarded  to  us  by  draft,  or  in  notes,  and 
not  in  fractional  currency. 

We  call  the  attention  of  the  Rev.  Clergy 
to  what  we  have  said  in  our  Circular  of  the 
8th  December  last,  in  relation  to  the  col- 
lection and  other  matters.  • 

♦  JOHN  HENRY, 
Bishop  of  Fort    Wayne. 

FoKT  Watxe,  March  4th,  1869. 


St.  Mary's  Hospital. — An  effort  has 
been  made  in  the  Legislature  to  obtain  an 
appropriation  to  this  Institution,  the  same 
as  has  been  given  to  othej"  like  Institutions 
of  different  denominations.  It  met  with 
no  success,  however,  notwithstanding  the 
fact  of  its  usefulness  and  general  merits 
being  universally  admitted  by  members. 
—  Catholic  Standard. 


^ »  ♦  »  » 


Applications  to  Association  of  Our  Lady  of 
tlie  Sacrc4  Heart. 

Fos  THE  Month  of  Februaby,  1869. 

For  Membership 20,296 

For  Conversions. 445 

For  Deceased  Members 19 

For  Recoverj'  of  Health 121 

For  Religious  Vocations 78 

For  Particular   Requests 675 

For  Happy  Death... 112 

For  Temporal  Favors 366 


190 


AVE       MARIA 


The  Nails  and  Spear. 

FRroAY  AFTER  SECOND  SUNDAY  IN   LENT. 

Rifled  from  earth's  dark  bosom  — 
From  tlic  dusky  mines  recesses, — 
By  the  fierce  fire  annealM, — 

Fashioned  by  stalwart  blows ; 
His  creature,  that  God  gifted 
With  manifold  gracious  uses, 
Gireth  only  to  its  Creator 

Bitterest  pangs  and  throes. 

Through  trembling  nerve  and  tendon, — 
Through  shrinking  vein  and  muscle, — 
By  lusty  strokes  of  the  hammer 

The  pitiless  nails  are  borne ; 
While  the  quivering  heart  of  Mary 
Keeps  time  to  the  awful  rhythm, 
(By  some  faint  echo  repeated) 

Agonized,  rent,  and  torn. 

Oh  Clirist!    The  faint  far  echo 

Was  the  cry  of  after  ages. 

Was  the  sound  of  piteous  wailing 

For  the  sins  that  nailed  Thee  there; 
Was  the  voice  of  our  confession. 
The  voice  of  our  lamentation, 
The  voice  of  our  supplication. 

Half  hope  and  half  despair. 

And  Thou, — lest  Thy  stricken  creatures. 

Shuddering  in  hopeles  terror. 

In  the  pangs  of  awakened  conscience, 

At  the  guilt  of  their  deicide, — 
Should  flee  to  the  outer  darkness 
In  hopeless  fear  and  anguish. 
In  Tliy  lance-pierced  Heart  wouldst  make 
them 

A  refuge  where  to  hide. 

R.  V.  R. 


'HiLDREN'S 


EPARTMENT. 


THE  TWO  PATHS. 


[Traiulated  from  the  Fr«Dch  for  the  An  MuuA.  ] 


BY  L.  B.  M'L. 


"  Grandmamma,  I  am  certain  you  have 
mistaken  the  road,"  said  ^Vlphonse  d'Er- 
villy  to  his  grandmother,  who  was  taking 
him  and  his  sister  Delphiiie  to  a  farm  a 
short  distance  from  the  chateau  where 
they  were  passing  the  summer. 


"  My  dear  child,"  eaid  Madame  d'Ervilly 
calmly,  and  without  appearing  to  notice 
the  impatient  tone  of  her  grandson,  "  I 
know  far  better  than  you  what  path  it  is 
necessary  to  take  to  arrive  at  the  farm, 
and  it  is  l)y  that  I  am  about  to  take  you." 

"  How  annoying,"  cried  Delphine,  "to 
see  the  time  spent  in  useless  discussions 
that  might  be  employed  in  amusements. 
Why  did  you  not  order  the  carriage, 
grandmamma '?" 

"  Because  God  has  given  me  feet  to 
walk,"  replied  Miidame  d'Ervilly  smiling, 
"  and  exercise  is  necessary  for  the  preser- 
vation of  my  health." 

"  A  servant  at  least  might  have  accom- 
panied us,  and  shown  us  the  right  way," 
said  Delphine. 

"  My  child,  would  you  rather  trust  hie 
experience  than  mine?" 

"  Put,  grandmamma,  you  see  how  pro- 
voking it  is ;  if  you  have  led  us  astray, 
what  shall  we  do?  The  hours  are  flying 
by,  and  we  shall  have  no  time  to  amuse 
ourselves.  I  give  up  all  hopes  of  the 
boat-ride  and  Ashing.  Oh,  how  sorry  I 
am  for  coming  !" 

"As  for  me,"  said  Alphonse,  "I  am 
fully  convinced  that  the  path  to  the  left  is 
the  one  that  leads  to  Nicholas'  house.  I 
recognize  it ;  my  memory  is  not  so  poor 
that  I  cannot  recollect  the  surroundings  I 
saw  two  years  ago." 

"You  deceive  yourself,  Alphonse,"  said 
Mde.  d'Ervilly  coldly;  "you  cannot  re- 
cognize that  road,  for  we  have  never  gone 
to  the  farm  through  this  valley." 

"Perhaps  not  with  you,  grandmamma; 
but  cousin  Paul  and  I  visited  Nicholas' 
once,  and  we  took  this  path  ;  and  I  believe 
by  following  it  I  shall  reach  the  farm  be- 
fore you." 

"  You  deserve,  my  child,  to  be  allowed 
to  run  that  risk,  as  a  just  punishment  for 
your  ol)Stinacy." 

"Oh,"  said  Alphonse,  laughing  heart- 
ily, "  the  j)erils  do  not  terrify  me,  and  I 
willingly  submit  to  what  ai)pears  to  me  a 
most  agreeable  chastisement.  Good-by, 
grandmamma,  you  will  find  your  breakfast 
ready  when  you  reach  the  farm." 


AVE     MARIA 


191 


Ami  blushinj;  through 'spite,  Alpbonse 
took  liis  own  routf  .'umI  Iu'imUmI  not  the 
coniniaiul  of  M:ul:inu'  irKrvilly  to  follow 
hor.  Delphine  implored  lior  ^rundniother 
to  take  the  ])nth  AI|tlion8c>  had  entered  on  ; 
but  her  cntroatieH  were  in  vain.  M<le. 
d'Ervilly  rose  from  the  place  where  she 
was  seated,  took  her  ^^randdau^^hter's  arm; 
and  followed  the  path  that,  according  to 
her,  led  to  the  farm  of  Nicholas. 

Delphine  was  in  a  wretched  humor  dur- 
ing the  walk.  Spite  and  anger  filled  her 
heart.  From  the  example  of  her  brother 
she  was  persuaded  that  Mde.  d'Ervilly  had 
mistaken  the  roa<l ;  and  although  her  mur- 
murs were  inaudible,  they  were  not  the 
less  violent. 

Without  appearing  to  notice  the  agita- 
tion of  Delphine,  her  grandmother  com- 
mented on  the  beautiful  country  that  sur- 
rounded them.  They  had  emerged  from 
the  woods,  and  stretched  out  before  them 
was  a  beautiful  plain,  surrounded  by  ver- 
dant hills,  where  the  snowy  llocks  sported 
in  play ;  farther  off,  the  river  reflected  the 
rays  of  the  rising  sun,  and  the  opposite 
bank  was  dotted  by  charming  country 
seats,  constructed  with  all  the  taste  and 
elegance  of  which  architecture  is  capable. 

Delphine  saw  the  farm  house  in  the  dis- 
tance: she  blushed,  and  encountering  the 
gaze  of  Mde.  d'Ervilly,  her  eyes  fell,  and 
she  acknowledged  her  fault.  Soon  they 
arrived  at  the  farm.  A  cry  of  joy  is  heard, 
and  the  words  "  Madame  !  Madame  I''  an- 
nounce the  arrival  of  the  dearly  cherished 
mistress. 

Among  those  who  gathered  around  to 
welcome  M«lc.  d'Ervilly,  Delphine  sought 
in  vain  for  her  brother.  If  he  was  there, 
if  he  had  arrived  in  advance  of  them,  he 
would  not  fail  to  show  himself.  Delphine 
sighed,  but  remained  silent;  and  her 
grandmother  did  not  speak  of  Alphonse. 
Two  hours  passed  by  ;  the  obstinate  boy 
did  not  appear,  and  Delphine's  restless- 
ness became  insupportable.  Her  implor- 
ing glances  were  turiie<^  every  jiiomeut 
to  Mde.  d'Ervilly,  whose  calm  face  be- 
trayed not  the  slightest  emotion. 

The  occupants  of  the  farm  invited  their 


young  mistress  to  take  a  sail  ou  the  river, 
in  a  i>retty  littb-  boat  that  was  usi'«l  for 
that  purpose.  Delphine  would  have  re- 
fused ;  but  her  grandmother  accepted  the 
invitation  for  her,  and  she  was  constrained 
to  go,  which  she  <lid  in  silence,  keeping 
back  her  tears.  What  a  sad  sail,  and  how 
dilferent  from  what  she  had  pictured  to 
herself  in  setting  out  from  the  chateau  ! 

3[adame  d'Ervilly  saw  tlie  sufferings  of 
Delphine  ;  ami,  takingpity  on  her,  request- 
ed Nicholas  to  conduct  them  back  to  the 
farm.  Scarcely  had  they  arrived  there 
when  a  carriage  drew  uj)  at  the  door,  and 
a  servant  from  the  chateau  came  to  re- 
ceive the  onlers  of  Mde.  d'Ervilly. 

Taking  leave  then  of  Nicholas,  ami 
promising  to  make  a  longer  visit  the  fol- 
fowiug  Aveek,  grandmamma  took  Del- 
phine's hand  and  led  her  to  the  carriage, 
in  which  they  both  seated  themselves; 
and  taking  the  road  along  the  river,  they 
were  soon  beyond  the  precincts  of  the  farm. 

"  Where  are  we  going,  grandmamma?" 
said  Delphine,  in  a  timid  voice. 

"  Do  not  fear,  my  child,"  answered  3Ide. 
d'Ervilly;   "James  knows  the  right  road." 

"  Ah  !  you  know  it  also,"  said  the  young 
girl,  conceaiing  her  flowing  tears  in  the 
bosom  of  her  grandmamma,  who  tenderly 
embrace<l  her — and  Delphine  felt  that  she 
was  pardoned. 

The  carriage  drew  up  before  the  gate  of 
a  park.  Mde.  d'Ervilly  rang,  and  a  young 
girl  answered  to  the  summons.  Delphine 
hastened  to  greet  her,  for  in  her  she  rec- 
ognized Theresa  de  Velcourt,  her  dearest 
friend.  The  latter,  on  seeing  Mde.  d'Er- 
villy and  Delphine,  exclaimed:  "That 
naughty  Alphonse!  He  did  not  tell  us 
we  were  to  have  such  an  agreeable  sur- 
prise to-day.  Indeed,  he  seemed  desirous 
of  leaving  us  immediately." 

The  path  Alphose  had  taken  led  him, 
after  a  walk  of  two  hours,  to  a  small  farm 
belonging  to  the  chateau  of  Velcourt. 
Mde.  d'Ervilly  knew  this,  and  it  was  for 
the  purpose  of  going  there  in  hopes  of 
finding  the  obstinate  fugitive  that  she  had 
sent  to  the  chateau  for  her  carriiige. 

M.  and  Mde.   de  Velcourt  not  seeing 


192 


AVE     MARIA. 


Theresa  return,  followed  her  out  in  com- 
pany with  the  rest  of  their  children,  and 
Alphonse  also  formed  part  ot  the  group 
that  came  forward  to  meet  Mde.  d'Ervilly. 
On  recognizing  his  grandmother,  Alphon- 
se turned  pale  and  concealed  his  face  in 
his  hands;  the  gaze  of  Mde.  de  Velcourt 
was  turned  upon  him  with  astonishment, 
and  seemed  to  demand  an  explanation  of 
the  mystery.  Delphine  ran  to  her  brother 
and  pressed  him  in  her  arms. 

"Pardon me  all,"  cried  Alphonse,  whose 
good  sense  had  overcome  his  pride.  He 
then  made  a  full  confession  of  his  faults 
of  the  morning,  and  acknowledged  the  un- 
truthfulness of  the  well-arranged  story 
by  which  he  had  deceived  the  Velcourt 
family,  by  saying  it  was  at  the  desire  of 
his  grandmother  he  paid  them  this  day's 
visit.  Then,  throwing  himself  on  his 
knees  before  Mde.  d'Ervilly,  he  begged 
her  to  be  his  guide  for  the  future  since  she 
knew  the  true  path. 

Mde.  d'Ervilly  gave  her  hand  to  the  re- 
pentant boy,  and  M.  de  Velcourt  spoke  to 
the  children  around  him  : 

"  It  is  thus  we  do  in  the  way  of  life,"  said 
M.  de  Velcourt  to  the  children.  "  Proud 
of  a  judgment  he  believes  to  be  infallible, 
the  child  disdains  the  counsels  of  expe- 
rience. He  desires  to  walk  alone;  the  way 
of  his  fathers  is  not  the  way  he  chooses. 
He  departs  from  it,  and  they  call  him  in 
vain  to  return.  Fixed  in  his  purpose,  he 
hurries  breathlessly  on ;  but  when  reflec- 
tion arrests  the  swift  current  of  his 
thoughts,  he  gazes  around  him  and  dis- 
covers that  he  has  mistaken  his  way, — 
and  often,  alas!  he  only  perceives  it  at  the 
moment  that  a  frightful  fall  reveals  to* him 
the  profound  depth  of  the  precipice  to 
which  his  chosen  path  has  conducted  him. 
To  avoid  this  terrible  misfortune,  my 
children,  trust  in  the  friends  to  whom  na- 
ture and  religion  have  confided  you ;  their 
love  and  their  experience  will  watch  over 
your  footsteps  and  prevent  you  from  wand- 
ering astray." 

Amid  tears  and  sobs,  Alphonse  promised 
never  more  to  trust  to  his  own  experience, 
but  always  to  follow  the  sage  counsels  of 


his  friends.  Mde.  d'Er^'illy  readily  par- 
doned the  erring  boy  who  was  so  dear  to 
her,  and  the  journey  homeward  was  sweet 
and  pleasant.  When  in  the  evening  they 
arrived  at  the  spot  that  had  witnessed  the 
obstinacy  of  Alphonse  in  the  morning,  he 
tenderly  embraced  his  grandmother,  say- 
ing: 

"  Dear  grandmother,  life  also  offers  two 
paths  ;  but,  that  I  may  never  go  astray,  I 
will  follow  the  one  you  have  already  traced 
for  me;  that  is,  the  path  of  virtue.  It  will 
also  be  that  of  happiness." 

Mde.  d'Ervilly  pressed  her  children  to 
her  heart,  and  blessed  heaven  that  the 
wanderings  of  a  few  hours  had  become  a 
lesson,  the  precious  rememberance  of  which 
would  guard  these  orphans  from  the  suffer- 
ing and  troubles  that  are  the  natural  con- 
sequence of  disobedience. 


Good  Manners. — Young  folks  should  be 
mannerly;  but  how  to  be  so  is  the  question. 
Many  good  boys  and  girls  feel  that  they 
cannot  behave  to  suit  themselves  in  the 
presence  of  company.  They  are  awkward, 
clownish,  and  rough.  They  feel  timid,  bash- 
ful, and  self  distrustful  the  moment  they 
are  addressed  by  a  stranger,  or  appear  in 
company.  There  is  but  one  way  to  get 
over  this  feeling,  and  acquire  easy  and 
graceful  manners — that  is,  to  do  the  best 
they  can  all  the  time,  at  home  as  well  as 
abroad.  Good  manners  are  not  learned, 
so  much  as  acquired  by  habit.  They  grow 
upon  you  as  you  use  them.  You  must  be 
courteous,  agreeable,  civil,  kind,  gentle- 
manly and  womanly  at  home,  and  then  it 
will  become  a  kind  of  second  nature  to  be 
so  everywhere.  A  coarse,  rough  manner 
at  home  begets  a  habit  of  roughness  which 
you  cannot  leave  off  if  you  try,  when  you 
go  among  strangers.  The  most  agreeable 
people  we  have  ever  known  in  company 
are  those  who  are  most  agreeable  at  home. 
Home  is  the  school  for  all  the  best  things. 
—  Catholic. 


Salvation  is  pointed  to  by  faith  and 
prepared  by  hope,  but  gained  by  love. 


AVE   MARIA. 

^  (Kattwjlic  ;^mirttat,  AtvoUA  to  the  ^mt^x  of  tht  ^ImtA  ^Tirgitt, 


Vol.  V. 


NOTEE  DAME,  INDIANA,  MASOH  27,  1869. 


Ko.  13. 


THE    ROMAN    CATACOMBS, 

And  their  Connertion  with  Cathoiir  Do^ma. 


FBOX  THE  OEBHAN  OK  RET.  M.  WOI.TER,  BY  BET. 
J.  A.  BERaRATH. 


"  Sed  tu  qui  legis,  ors  pro  me  ct  (h)abcas  Domi- 
num  protectorc'iu." — Catacombs  of  Po7itiauu«. 

There  are  two  cities  that,  more  than  all 
others,  exercise  an  indescribable  charm 
over  christian  hearts,  and  serve  as  a  guid- 
ing lamp  to  the  inquiring  mind  while  it 
wanders  through  the  vast  domains  of  the- 
ology and  history.  These  two  cities  are 
JerusaUni  and  Rome.  Like  two  bright 
jewels,  they  glitter  on  the  f^ice  of  the 
earth  and  hide  within  them  a  picture  of 
heaven.  They  are  the  chosen  sanctuaries 
of  humanity,  the  poles  of  history,  the 
mysterious  points  at  which  Divine  mercy 
has  applied  its  levers  in  order  to  foree 
this  world  of  ours  out  of  its  downward- 
tending  course,  and  elevate  it  once  more 
into  a  new  and  heavenward  sphere.  They 
are  the  cities  of  the  Covenant,  the  scenes 
of  God's  greatest  wonders.  The  former 
tells  us  of  the  history  of  the  redemption, 
the  latter  acquaints  us  with  the  history  of 
the  Church,  or  those  who  have  benefitted 
by  that  redemption.  They  are  bound  to- 
gether by  an  inseparable  bond,  as  be- 
comes the  mother  and  daughter.  Even 
the  physiognomy  and  history  of  the  one 
and  the  other  remind  us  at  once  of  the 
close  relationship  that  exists  between 
them.  The  ever  memorable  hills  of  Jeru- 
salem witnessed  the  self-immolation  of  the 
God-man,  and  were  consecrated  by  His 
blood  as  the  altar  of  redemption  ;  the  hills 


of  Rome  saw  thousands  of  noble  members 
of  Christ  dying  a  martyr's  death,  and  the 
rivers  of  christian  blood  which  they  drank 
dedicated  them  once  for  all  time  to  come 
as  the  high  altars  of  the  church.  The 
adorable  ))ody  of  our  Blessed  Lord,  after 
the  crucifixion,  was  laid  in  a  monument 
of  rock  at  the  foot  of  Golgotha ;  the  bodies 
of  the  holy  martyrs  were  deposited  in  the 
rocky  caverns  of  the  catacombs,  at  the 
foot  of  the  seven-hilled  city.  For  three 
days  did  the  body  of  our  Lord  remain  in 
the  silent  grave  before  He  arose  from  the 
dead;  in  like  manner  did  the  Church  of 
Rome,  the  mystical  body  of  Christ,  hide 
itself  for  three  centuries  within  the  silent 
halls  of  that  subterranean  city  of  the  dead, 
after  which  time  it  arose  and  began  to 
plant  its  victorious  banner  of  the  cross  in 
every  land  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  Nay, 
even  after  the  resurrection,  both  these 
glorious  tombs  have  remained  singularly 
blessed.  The  open  monument  at  Jerusa- 
lem, the  empty  grave  with  its  linens  and 
spices,  has  become  for  all  future  times  a 
covenant  and  a  testimony  that  vouches  for 
the  accomplishment  of  the  great  mystery 
of  the  redemption ;  the  re-opened  cata- 
combs of  Rome,  on  the  other  hand,  with 
the  treasures  of  their  holy  relics  and  other 
historic  documents,  furnish  us  with  an 
irrefragable  proof  that  the  faith  and  cus- 
toms of  the  early  church  were  identical 
with  those  of  the  church  of  to-day;  and 
thus  they  have  come  to  be  a  most  precious 
inheritance  transmitted  to  the  present,  and 
to  the  yet  unborn  future.  In  fact,  these  cat- 
acombs are  to  a  great  extent,  as  it  were 
the  archives,  the  incunabula  from  which 
we  learn  the  history  of  the  primitive  chris- 
tian church.      In  their  sepulchral  halls  and 


194 


AVE       MARIA 


chambers,  on  their  walls  and  ceilings, 
these  sacred  places  unfold  to  our  wonder- 
ing gaze,  in  the  fresliest  of  colors,  a  most 
glowing  and  touching  picture  of  the  faith 
and  charity  of  the  apostolic  church.  After 
having  made  the  subject  our  especial 
study  for  some  years  past,  a  portion  of 
which  time  we  spent  with  the  learned 
Cavalier  De  Rossi,  that  most  eminent  stu- 
dent of  the  catacombs,  we  shall  now  en- 
deavor to  introduce  the  reader  into  this 
subterranean  Rome,  and  show  him  that, 
as  the  church  for  centuries  past  has  ob- 
tained from  this  sacred  quarry  the  gold  of 
precious  relics  wherewith  to  decorate  her 
shrines  and  altars,  so,  too,  does  christian 
research  obtain  from  these  hallowed  shafts 
numbers  of  most  precious  jewels  that 
serve  to  adorn  and  finish  the  massive 
walls  of  the  grand  old  cathedral  of  chris- 
tian science  and  christian  faith. 


What  are  the  catacombs?  And  what 
purpose  did  they  serve?  These  prelimin- 
ary questions  are  deserving  of  a  short  an- 
swer. My  dear  reader,  transfer  yourself 
in  spirit  to  Rome,  back  into  the  days  of 
her  former  glory, — I  will  say  into  the  sec- 
ond or  third  century  of  the  christian  era. 
There  you  see  the  proud  queen  of  the 
world  with  her  1,500,000  inhabitants  most 
of  whom  are  heathens.  The  sun  is  send- 
ing down  its  noon-day  rays  from  an  azure 
sky  upon  an  almost  interminable  forest  of 
gorgeous  temples,  palaces,  basilicas,  mau- 
soleums, baths,  theatres,  and  public  gar- 
dens. All  the  treasures  of  the  earth,  all 
the  products  of  art  and  science  have  been 
gathered  here  as  in  one  vast  receptacle. 
And  yet  all  this  abundance  of  gold  and 
marble,  this  gorgeous  and  almost  bewil- 
dering splendor,  is  nothing  more  than  the 
glittering  parget  that  covers  an  immense 
grave.  Although  queen  of  the  world, 
Rome  is  the  deeply-fallen  and  shamefully 
degraded  slave  of  idolatry  and  vice.  The 
enemy  of  mankind  has  in  a  measure  be- 
come incarnate,  and  thrones  here  as  in  an 
impregnable  fortress,  surrounded  by  as 
many  vassals  as  there  are  idols  that  stare 


down  from  the  pinnacles  of  countless 
temples  and  palaces  throughout  the  city. 
Rome,  the  heart  and  soul  of  that  almost 
boundless  empire,  has  also  become  the 
cancer  from  which  the  virus  of  moral  c<yr- 
ruption  is  spread  through  every  land. 
From  every  country  under  the  sun  that 
great  city  draws  its  life  and  strength ;  and 
back  through  every  clime,  even  to  the 
farthermost  parts  of  the  earth,  it  pulsates 
forth  the  poison  of  its  moral  corruption. 
If  humankind  were  to  be  ruined  forever, 
the  prince  of  darkness  could  not  select  for 
himself  a  more  fitting  spot  to  begin  oper- 
ations than  this  very  city.  Again,  if  hu- 
manity is  to  be  saved,  the  divine  mercy 
must  here  make  the  beginning.  And  so 
it  was  done  in  reality.  In  the  suburbs  of 
Rome,  down  underneath  the  green  mead- 
ows of  the  Campagna,  hundreds  of  busy 
hands  were  at  work  in  darksome  caverns 
digging  an  inextricable  network  of  shafts 
and  subterranean  passages.  They  were 
none  other  than  the  soldiers  of  Christ,  who 
thus  rapidly  surrounded  the  heathen  me- 
tropolis with  the  famous  catacombs  as 
with  a  girdle  of  inaccessible  intrench- 
ments.  In  these  fortresses  they  prepared 
themselves  for  the  great  conflict  that  im- 
pended ;  from  here  they  went  forth  ani- 
mated with  a  holy  zeal  and  supernatural 
courage  to  win  the  crown  of  martyrdom. 
And  hither,  too,  when  the  victory  had  been 
won,  the  bodies  of  the  slain  heroes  of  the 
faith  were  borne  as  sacred  trophies,  to  be 
interred  in  those  silent  halls  with  the  in- 
signia and  the  instruments  of  their  pas- 
sion, as  of  old  the  fallen  warriors  were 
buried  with  their  arms.  But  the  blood  of 
these  martyrs  became  the  seed  of  ever  in- 
creasing numbers  of  fresh  christian  hosts, 
until  at  last  the  banner  of  the  cross — 
planted  there  by  the  strong  hand  of  the 
Emperor  Constantine — was  flung  high  in 
air,  and  fluttered  victoriously  over  the 
walls  of  the  Eternal  City.  From  this  day 
forward  Rome  became  as  the  living  heart 
of  a  new  world,  out  of  which  there  gushed 
in  rich  and  rapid  pulsations  through  the 
world's  arteries  a  perfect  torrent  of  life- 
giving  faith  and  charity. 


AVE      MARIA. 


195 


Mother  oat  of  Slf  ht. 

Tliis  bonutiful  poem  was  written  by  the 
late  Mr.  Keble  with  the  design  of  placing 
it  in  his  Lyra  Innocentiumy  hnt  was  with- 
held from  publication  by  the  author  in  de- 
ference to  the  opinion  of  some  of  his  friends 
who  thought  it  "  unsafe."  It  now  appears 
in  the  life  of  the  author,  just  published  in 
England,  and  also  in  The  Month,  from 
which  excellent  periodical  we  take  it.    , 

No  catholic,  says  the  editor  of  The 
Month,  can  read  these  lines  without  an  in- 
tense feeling  of  sadness  for  their  author, 
but  that  sadness  may  notbeunmingledwith 
a  hope  that  so  beautiful  and  touching  a 
strain  of  music,  coming  as  it  were  from 
the  grave  of  its  author,  may  find  in  the 
hearts  of  many  of  those  who  most  revere 
his  memory  echoes  which  will  be  as  voices 
to  guide  them  to  the  only  true  home  of 
the  children  of  that  Mother  who  is  at  pres- 
ent "  out  of  sight."  At  the  present  su- 
preme crisis  of  the  advanced  Anglican 
party,  it  may  be  permitted  us  to  hope  that 
some  of  its  members  may  be  helped  by  Mr. 
Keble's  "sweet  singing"  into  the  rest 
which  he  did  not  live  to  reach. 

Without  further  preface,  we  subjoin  the 
poem  of  which  we  speak: — 

Mother  out  of  Sight. 

8aw  ye  the  bright-eyed  stately  child, 
With  sunny  locks  bo  aott  and  wild, 
How  in  a  moment  round  the  room 
His  keen  eye  glanced,  then  into  gloom 
Retired,  as  those  who  sutfer  wrong 
Wliere  most  assured  they  look  and  long? 
Heard  ye  the  quick  appeal,  half  in  dim  fear, 
In  anger  half,  '*  My  mother  is  not  here  ?" 

Perchance  some  burthened  breast  was  nigh. 
To  echo  back  that  yearning  cry. 
In  deeper  chords  tlian  may  be  known 
To  the  dull  outward  ear  alone ; 
What  if  our  English  air  be  stirred 
With  sighs,  from  sjiintly  bosoms  heard, 
Or  penitents,  to  loaning  angels  dear, 
"  Our  own,  our  only  Mother  is  not  here  f 

The  murmurings  of  that  boyish  heart 
They  hush  with  many  a  fostering  art-' 


'*8oon  o'er  the  islands  of  the  west 
The  weary  sun  will  sink  to  rest. 
The  rose  tints  fade,  that  gradual  now 
Are  climbing  Ben-y- Year's  green  brow. 
Soon  o'er  the  lock  the  twilight  stars  will  peer, 
Then  sluill  thou  feel  thy  aoul's  desire  is  here." 

Lightly  they  soothe  the  fair-haired  boy— 
Nor  is  there  not  a  hope  and  joy 
For  spirits,  that  half  orphaned  roam 
Forlorn  in  their  far  island  home  : 
Oft  as  in  penance  lowly  bowed 
Prayer,  like  a  gentle  evening  cloud, 
Enfolds  them,  through  the  mist  they  seem  to  trace, 
By  shadowy  gleams,  a  royal  Mother's  face. 

The  holy  Church  is  at  their  side- 
Not  in  her  robes,  a  glorious  bride — 
As  sister  named  of  mercy  mild, 
At  midnight,  by  a  fevered  child 
Might  watch,  and  to  the  dim  eye  seem 
A  white-stoled  angel  in  a  dream. 
Such  may  the  presence  of  the  Spouse  appear 
To  tender  trembling  hearts  so  faint,  so  dear. 

The  babe,  for  that  sweet  vision's  sake, 
Courts  longer  trance,  afraid  to  wake ; 
And  we  for  love  would  fain  lie  still 
Though  in  dim  faith,  if  so  He  will, 
And  wills  He  not?    Are  not  His  signs 
Around  us  ofl  as  day  declines  ? 
Fails  He  to  bless  or  home  or  choral  throng, 
When  true  hearts  breathe  His  mother's  evensong? 

Mother  of  God!  oh,  not  in  vain 
We  learned  of  old  thy  lowly  strain ; 
Fain  in  thy  .shadow  would  we  rest. 
And  kneel  with  thee,  and  call  thee  blest, 
With  thee  would  magnify  the  Lord ; 
And,  if  thou  art  not  here  adored,' 
Yet  seek  we,  day  by  day,  the  love  and  fear. 
Which  brings  thee,  with  all  saints,  near  and  more 
near! 

What  glory  thou  al>ove  hast  won. 

By  special  grace  of  thy  dear  Son, 

We  see  not  yet,  nor  dare  espy 

Thy  crowned  form  with  open  eye : 

Rather  beside  the  manger  meek 

Thee  bending  with  veiled  brow  we  seek. 
Or  where  the  Angel  in  the  thrice  great  name 
Hail'd  thee,  and  Jesus  to  thy  bosom  came. 

Yearly  since  then  with  bitterer  cry 
Man  hath  assailed  the  throne  on  high, 
And  sin  and  hate  more  fiercely  striven 
To  mar  the  league  twizt  earth  and  heaven  ; 
But  the  dread  tie,  that  pardoning  hour. 
Made  fast  in  Mary's  awful  bower. 
Hath  mightier  proved  to  bind,  than  we  to  break — 
None  may  that  work  undo,  that  Flesh  unmake. 


196 


AVE     MARIA. 


Henceorth,  Whom  thousand  worlds  adore 

He  calls  thoc  mother  evermore  ; 

Angel  nor  saint  His  face  may  see 

Apart  IVom  what  He  took  of  thee; 

How  may  we  choose  but  name  tliy  name, 

Echoing  below  their  high  acclaim, 
In  holy  croods?  since  earthly  song  and  prayer 
Must  keep  faint  time  to  the  dread  nntbem  there — 

How  but  in  love,  on  thine  own  days. 
Thou  blissful  one,  upon  thee  gaze  ? 
Nay,  every  day,  each  suppliant  hour, 
Whene'er  we  kneel,  in  aisle  or  bower, 
Thy  glories  we  may  greet  unblamed, 
Nor  shun  the  lay  by  seraphs  framed, 
"  Hail,  Mary,  full  of  grace  I"   O  welcome  sweet. 
Which  daily,  in  all  lands,  all  saints  repeat ! 

Fair  greeting,  with  our  matin  vows. 
Paid  duly  to  the  enthroned  Spouse, 
His  Church  and  Bride,  here  and  on  high. 
Figured  in  her  deep  purity. 
Who  born  of  Eve,  high  mercy  won, 
To  bear  and  nurse  th'  Eternal  Son ; 
Oh,  awful  station,  to  no  seraph  given. 
On  this  side  touching  sin,  on  th'  other  heaven ! 

Therefore,  as  kneeling,  day  by  day, 

We  to  our  Father  duteous  pray, 

So,  unforbidden,  Ave  may  speak 

An  Ave  to  Clxrist's  Mother  meek, 

As  children  with  good-morrow  come 

To  elders  in  some  happy  home — 
Inviting  so  the  saintly  host  above 
With  our  unwortliiness  to  pray  in  love. 

To  pray  with  us,  and  gently  bear 
Our  falterings  in  the  pure  bright  air ; 
But  strive  we  pure  and  bright  to  be 
In  spirit ;  else,  how  vain  of  thee 
Our  earnest  dreamings,  awful  bride ! 
Feel  we  the  sword  that  pierced  thy  side : 
Thy  spotless  lily  flower,  so  clear  of  hue. 
Shrinks  from  the  breatli  impure.the  tongue  untrue. 


All  wish  to  possess  those  grave  virtues 
which  attract  attention,  are  stuck  high  up 
on  the  cross,  and  are  therefore  seen  from 
afar,  and  will  be  admired.  But  few  are 
diligent  in  gathering  those,  which,  like 
humble  thyme,  grow  at  the  foot,  and  under 
the  shadow  of  that  Tree  of  Life.  And  yet 
they  spread  the  sweetest  scent,  and  are 
more  than  others  bedewed  with  the  blood 
of  our  Saviour,  Avhose  first  lesson  to  the 
Christian  was,  Learn  ye  of  Me  who  am 
meek  and  humble  of  heart. — St.  F.  de  Sales. 


BLOSOMS  OF  FAITH  AlVD  LOTE; 

OR, 

Bonqnets  for  CTery  Season. 


"  Be  liberal  towards  God,  and  God  will  in  return 
deal  liberally  towards  you." 


No.  2.— MONTH  OF  ST.  JOSEPH. 
Chaplet  of  St.  Joseph. 

F1R.ST   DECADE. 

1.  I  salute  thee,  O  great  St.  Joseph, 
destined  from  all  eternity  to  be  the  spouse 
of  the  Mother  of  God  and  the  fosterfather 
of  the  Eternal  Son.  Hail,  St.  Joseph, 
favored  with  grace,  etc. 

2.  I  salute  thee,  O  great  St.  Joseph,  son 
of  David,  "husband  of  Mary,  of  whom 
was  born  Jesus  w^ho  is  called  Christ." 
Hail,  St.  Joseph,  etc. 

3.  I  salute  thee,  O  great  St.  Joseph, 
chosen  associate  of  the  Most  Holy  Trinity 
in  the  work  of  redemption.  Hail,  St. 
Joseph,  etc. 

4.  I  salute  thee,  O  great  St.  Joseph, 
whom  the  Holy  Ghost  has  taught  us  to 
revere  as  "  a  just  man."  Hail,  St.  Joseph, 
etc. 

5.  I  salute  thee,  O  great  St.  Joseph, 
whose  heroic  virtues  shone  forth  more 
conspicuously  for  thy  trial  and  perplexity. 
Hail,  St.  Joseph,  etc. 

6.  I  salute  thee,  O  great  St.  Joseph,  en- 
lightened by  the  archangel.  Hail,  St.  Jo- 
seph, etc. 

7.  I  salute  thee,  O  great  St.  Joseph, 
yielding  instant  faith  and  obedience  to  the 
heavenly  voice.     Hail,  St.  Joseph,  etc. 

8.  I  salute  thee,  O  great  St.  Joseph, 
awaiting  with  reverent  awe  and  expect- 
ation the  birth  of  the  incarnate  God.  Hail, 
St.  Joseph,  etc. 

9.  I  salute  thee,  O  great  St.  Joseph,  re- 
ceiving from  Mary  the  fruit  of  her  virginal 
womb.     Hail,  St.  Joseph,  etc. 

10.  I  salute  thee,  O  great  St.  Joseph, 
with  Mary  adoring  the  Word  made  flesh, 
and  compensating  Him  for  the  world's 
neglect.     Hail,  St.  Joseph,  etc. 

SECOND  DECADE. 

] .  I  venerate  thee,  O  blessed  St.  Joseph, 


AVE     MARIA. 


197 


found  by  the  sheplierds  with  Mary  and  the 
Babe  in  the  manger.     Hail,  St.  JoHeph,  etc. 

2.  I  venerate  thee,  O  blessed  St.  Joseph, 
rejoicing  with  a  father's  joy  in  tlie  song  of 
the  angels  and  the  adoration  of  the  Magi. 
Hail,  St.  Joseph,  etc. 

3.  I  venerate  thee,  O  blessed  St.  Joseph, 
bestowing  on  the  heavenly  Child,  at  His 
circumcision,  that  name  which  is  above  all 
names.     Hail,  St.  Joseph,  etc. 

4.  I  venerate  thee,  O  blessed  St.  Joseph, 
with  Mary  presenting  Him  to  the  Eternal 
Father  in  the  temple.    Hail,  St.  Joseph,  etc. 

fi.  I  venerate  thee,  O  blessed  St.  Joseph, 
forsaking  home  and  friends  and  journey- 
ing to  a  foreign  land  to  save  the  Child's 
life.     Hail,  St.  Joseph,  etc. 

6.  I  venerate  thee,  O  blessed  St.  Joseph, 
returning  after  years  of  exile,  yet  still 
anxious  for  thy  charge.  Hail,  St.  Joseph, 
etc. 

7.  I  venerate  thee,  O  blessed  St.  Joseph, 
whom  heaven  and  earth  revere  as  the  head 
of  the  Holy  Family  of  Nazareth.  Hail, 
St.  Joseph,  etc. 

8.  I  venerate  thee,  O  blessed  St.  Joseph, 
providing  for  the  wants  of  Jesus  and  Mary 
by  thy  daily  toil.     Hail,  St.  Joseph,  etc. 

9.  I  venerate  thee,  O  blessed  St.  Joseph, 
with  Mary  seeking  thy  divine  Child,  sor- 
rowing, for  three  days.  Hail,  St.  Joseph,  etc. 

10.  I  venerate  thee,  O  blessed  St.  Joseph, 
finding  Him  in  the  temple,  the  wonder 
and  admiration  of  all.   Hail,  St.  Joseph,  etc. 

THIKD   DECADE. 

1.  I  praise  thee,  O  glorious  St.  Joseph, 
holding  on  earth  the  place  of  the  Eternal 
Father  to  His  only-begotten  Son.  Hail, 
St.  Joseph,  etc. 

2.  I  praise  thee,  O  glorious  St.  Joseph, 
guardian  and  tutor  of  the  Incarnate  Wis- 
dom of  the  Father.     Hail,  St.  Joseph,  etc. 

3.  I  praise  thee,  O  glorious  St.  Joseph, 
representing  towards  the  Immaculate  Moth- 
er the  Holy  Spirit,  her  Divine  Spouse. 
Hail,  St.  Joseph,  etc. 

4.  I  praise  thee,  O  glorious  St.  Joseph, 
to  whom  the  King  of  kings  and  the  Lord 
of  lords  was  subject  in  filial  obedience  and 
love.     Hail,  St.  Joseph,  etc. 


6.  I  praise  thee,  O  glorious  St.  Joseph, 
whom  the  glorious  Queen  of  heaven  hon- 
ored and  trusted  as  *'  the  zealous  defender 
of  her  virginity."     Hail,  St.  Joseph,  etc. 

6.  I  praise  thee,  O  glorious  St.  Joseph, 
in  life  and  death  blest  with  the  loving 
care  of  Jesus  and  Mary.  Hail,  St.  Joseph, 
etc. 

7.  I  praise  thee,  O  glorious  St.  Joseph, 
whom  Jesus  sent  as  His  ambassador  to  the 
holy  souls  in  Limbo  to  promise  their  de- 
liverance.    Hail,  St.  Joseph,  etc. 

8.  I  praise  thee,  O  glorious  St.  Joseph, 
whose  throne  is  high  above  angels  and 
saints,  beside  that  of  our  Blessed  Lady. 
Hail,  St.  Joseph,  etc. 

9.  I  praise  thee,  O  glorious  St.  Joseph, 
whose  petitions  are  received  by  thy  all- 
gracious  Son  as  the  commands  of  an  hon- 
ored father.     Hail,  St.  Joseph,  etc. 

10.  I  praise  thee,  O  glorious  St.  Joseph, 
generous  advocate  and  faithful  protector 
of  all  who  implore  thy  aid.  Hail,  St.  Jo- 
seph, etc. 


II. — Dkvotioxs  adapted  from  those  to 
OUR  Lady. 

Among  the  numerous  authorized  prayers 
in  honor  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  which  are 
in  general  use,  tliere  are  several  which  seem 
very  appropriate  to  St.  Joseph  also,  by 
slight  alterations.  The  following  are  ex- 
amples : 

I.  It  is  a  pious  custom  to  say  the  Glory 
be  to  the  FatJier,  etc.,  three  times  at  morn- 
ing, again  at  noon  and  at  night,  in  thanks- 
giving to  the  Holy  Trinity  for  the  graces 
and  favors  bestowed  on  the  Blessed  Vir- 
gin. Surely  the  same  little  thank-offering 
will  be  gladly  rendered  by  those  who  re- 
joice in  the  favors  and  graces  bestowed  on 
St.  Joseph. 

II.  St.  Alphonso  Liguori  mentions  a  de- 
votion which  our  Lady  herself  taught  tp 
one  of  her  servants,  as  being  very  accept* 
able  to  her;  viz:  To  recite  three  times, 
"  Our  Father,"  "  Hail  Mary,"  and  "  Glory 
be  to  the  Father,"  in  thanksgiving  to  the 
Eternal  Father  for  the  power  He  gave  to 


198 


AVE      MARIA 


His  daughter  ;  to  the  Eternal  Son  for  the 
wisdom  He  gave  to  Mary,  His  mother;  to 
the  Holy  Ghost,  for  the  love  that  He  gave 
to  Mary,  His  spouse.  The  same  prayers 
might  be  said  (or  the  "Hail  St.  Joseph" 
substituted  for  the  "  Hail  Mary  ")  in  thanks- 
giving to  the  Eternal  Father  for  the  power 
He  gave  to  Joseph  over  His  divine  Sou; 
to  the  Eternal  Son  for  being  subject  to 
Joseph  as  His  reputed  father ;  to  the  Holy 
Ghost  for  choosing  Joseph  as  His  repre- 
sentative to  His  immaculate  spouse. 

III.  The  favorite  salutation,  "  Hail, 
daughter  of  the  Eternal  Father !  Hail, 
mother  of  the  Eternal  Son  !  Hail,  spouse 
of  the  Divine  Spirit!"  has  suggested  this: 
Hail,  head  of  the  Eternal  Father's  house- 
hold !  Hail,  guardian  and  provider  for  the 
Eternal  Son !  Hail,  representative  to  Mary 
of  her  Divine  Spouse  ! 

Memorare  to  St.  Joseph. 

From  an  English  collection  of  devotions 
we  take  the  following  adaptation  of  St. 
Bernard's  prayer: 

"  Remember,  O  most  amiable,  most  be- 
nevolent, most  kind  and  merciful  father, 
St.  Joseph,  that  the  great  St.  Teresa  as- 
sures us  that  she  never  had  recourse  to 
your  protection  without  obtaining  relief. 
Animated  with  the  same  confidence,  O 
dear  St.  Joseph,  I  come  to  you,  and  groan- 
ing under  the  heavy  burden  of  my  many 
sins,  I  prostrate  myself  at  your  feet.  O 
most  compassionate  father,  do  not,  I  be- 
seech you,  reject  my  poor  and  miserable 
prayers,  but  graciously  hear  and  answer 
my  petition.     Amen." 


Extract  from  the  Origin  of  tlie  Institate 
of  the  Blessed  Virgin  Mary. 


"  In  the  reign  of  James  the  Second,  about 
the  year  1686,  the  ground  on  which  the 
present  convent  in  York  stands  was  pur- 
chased by  the  first  superioress  in  Eng- 
land, Mrs.  Bedingfield,  daughter  of  Sir 
Henry  Bedingfield.  This  good  superior- 
ess and  community  had  much  to  suffer 
from  the  persecuting  times,  the  house  be- 


ing frequently  searched.  These  early  sis- 
ters could  not  wear  a  religious  habit  in 
this  country,  nor  did  they  venture  to  reas- 
sume  it  until  the  French  Revolution  brought 
many  religious  of  various  Orders  into 
England,  but  no  threats  could  induce 
them  to  suspend  the  education  of  young 
ladies,  to  which  they  afterwards  added 
that  of  the  poor.  The  courage  and  confi- 
dence in  God,  shown  by  this  superioress, 
were  very  conspicuous,  particularly  when 
a  persecution  arose,  which,  in  the  city  of 
York,  threatened  the  house  of  St.  Mary 
particularly.  Priests  were  obliged  to  con- 
ceal themselves,  and  the  chaplain  of  the 
convent  had  retired.  She  had  obtained 
leave,  in  case  of  necessity,  to  take  the 
Blessed  Sacrament  from  the  tabernacle 
and   repose  it  in  her  breast. 

The  community  having  intelligence  that 
the  magistrates  and  leading  people  of  the 
city  had  concocted  a  scheme  to  have  the 
the  house  destroyed,  the  pensioners  were 
removed  to  whatever  situations  prudence 
could  suggest  for  their  safety.  Scarcely 
was  this  effected,  when  a  mob  of  several 
hundred  persons  assembled  before  the 
house,  armed  with  weapons.  Their  num- 
ber was  great,  and  none  to  oppose  them. 
In  this  distress  the  superioress  ordered 
the  picture  of  St.  Michael  to  be  hung  over 
the  door,  and  placed  the  house  under  his 
protection.  Then  taking  the  pyx  contain- 
ing the  Blessed  Sacrament  and  placing  it 
in  her  bosom,  she  knelt  down  in  the  pas- 
sage, and  thus  addressed  her  hidden  treas- 
ure :  "  Great  God,  save  Thyself,  for  we 
cannot  save  Thee."  Suddenly  the  mob 
dispersed,  disappearing  in  a  body,  as  if 
ordered  by  some  one  in  authority,  without 
a  stroke  or  without  committing  the  least 
injury  to  the  house. 

In  acknowledgment  of  this  singular  in- 
terposition of  Divine  Providence,  rever- 
end Mother  Bedingfield  ordered  the  devo- 
tion to  St.  Michael,  which  has  ever  since 
been  performed  annually  for  eight  succes- 
sive days  by  the  community  and  pension- 
ers, in  thanksgiving  for  so  memorable  an 
an  event;  and,  that  it  might  be  done  with 
solemnity,  the  youngest  i)ensioner,  on  the 


AVE     MARIA. 


199 


eve  of  the  29th  of  September,  carries  the 
picture  of  St.  Michael  from  the  gate  where 
it  always  hangs,  to  the  cliapel,  followed  by 
the  next  two  youngest  with  lighted  wax 
tapers;  then  the  others  follow  in  order, 
two  and  two,  till  they  arrive  at  the  rail 
of  the  sanctuary,  when  it  is  deposited  in 
the  place  assigned  for  it,  leaving  the  ta- 
pers lighted,  whilst  Tibi  omnes  angeli  is 
sung.  The  next  day  it  is  repeated,  and 
the  Litanies  of  St.  Michael  and  of  the  Holy 
Angels  are  said  during  the  octave." 


Life  of  Mother  Mary  Scraphine  F— . 


[continued.] 


Her  term  ended  in  the  spring  of  1851. 
For  several  days  after  her  withdrawal  she 
employed  herself  in  waiting  on  the  sick ; 
assuming  the  white  apron  with  a  sweet 
smile,  she  gave  to  all  who  needed  her  care 
the  kindest  attention,  making  herself  so 
little  and  lowly  that  the  sisters  hardly 
knew  which  feeling  was  strongest  in  their 
hearts  for  her,  filial  tenderness  or  profound 
veneration.  To  assist  in  the  refectory  and 
give  her  aid  in  every  little  necessity 
seemed  to  afford  her  the  greatest  gratifi- 
cation, and  it  was  her  happiness  now  to  re- 
ceive at  every  opportunity  the  benediction, 
which,  as  superior,  she  had  for  so  long  a 
time  bestowed.  At  times  she  would  try 
by  some  playful  trick  to  surprise  the  new 
superior  into  giving  it  to  her.  One  day 
she  put  herself  on  her  knees,  hiding  behind 
a  band  of  merry  pupils  standing  around. 
Mother  Marie  Pauline,  blessed  them  with- 
out perceiving  her,  till  she  arose  with  a 
mischievous  smile  on  her  face. 

But,  not  long  after.  Mother  Marie  Pauline 
took  her  revenge.  A  number  of  the 
novices  were  crowding  around  their  vener- 
able mistress,  and  vieing  with  each  other 
in  their  efforts  to  obtain  caresses  from 
her.  The  new  superior  cautiously  stole 
in  among  the  young  professed  sisters,  and 
presently  contrived  to  kneel  before  Sister 
Seraphine,   who   embraced   her  daughter 


before  she  perceived  it  was  her  superior. 
About  this  time,  her  novices  wishing  to 
make  a  grand  celebration  on  her  fea^t-day, 
Sister  Seraphine  said  to  the  assembled 
community,  "I  invite  to  our  recreation  all 
among  you  who  were  my  novices,"  and 
some  days  after  nearly  the  whole  of  the 
large  sisterhood  were  thus  assembled  in 
the  novitiate. 

In  this  world  days  of  re^^icing  are  soon 
followed  by  days  of  sadness.  Business 
requiring  her  to  visit  a  house  of  the  order 
at  Dole,  she  fell  sick  there  and  was  de- 
tained many  weeks.  She  was  confined  to 
her  bed,  and  in  a  high  fever,  when,  in  De- 
cember, 1851,  she  was  recalled  to  her  own 
convent.  Those  about  her  represented  to 
her  that  the  condition  she  was  in  was  a 
reasonable  cause  for  delaying  her  depart- 
ure ;  it  was  thought  also  she  would  find 
Paris  in  a  state  of  revolution,  and  very 
doubtful  if  she  would  be  able  to  re-enter 
the  city;  nevertheless,  obedience  carried 
the  day  over  all  reasoning,  and  she  at  once 
responded  to  the  desire  of  her  superior. 

This  illness,  which  had  appeared  a  mere 
passing  one,  was  the  beginning  of  a  mal- 
ady which  secretly  undermined  her  health 
already  much  enfeebled.  All  the  rest  of 
the  winter  she  suffered  with  violent  pain 
in  the  head,  and  at  the  end  of  spring  was 
compelled  to  give  up  all  employments,  and 
it  was  discovered  that  an  inflamed  tumor 
of  a  most  dangerous  character  was  rising 
on  the  nape  of  the  neck.  It  was  almost 
impossible  for  her  to  take  food,  every 
movement  of  the  jaws  causing  excruciat- 
ing pain,  and  she  had  besides  lost  all  de- 
sire to  eat;  but  with  heroic  obedience  she 
forced  herself  to  take  the  frequent  nourish- 
ment that  seemed  the  only  means  of  com- 
batting this  disease,  which  was  caused  by 
decomposition  of  the  blood.  In  the  excess 
of  her  agony,  almost  every  breath  was  a 
groan.  Greatly  humbled  at  what  she  con- 
sidered her  want  of  courage  and  fortitude, 
and  troubled  at  finding  herself  so  little  able 
to  bear  her  sufierings  in  silence,  in  her 
simplicity  she  represented  to  our  Lord 
that  she  was  too  mean  and  cowardly  to 
endure  such  violent  and  continual   pain: 


200 


AVE      MARIA. 


"  My  God,"  said  she,  "  Thou  seest  I  can 
do  nothing  but  murmur ;  this  trial  is  too 
severe  for  a  poor  weak  creature  like  me  !" 
At  last  an  operation  for  her  relief  was  de- 
cided on. 

For  a  long  time  the  mere  idea  of  this 
operation  had  made  her  tremble ;  but  sac- 
rificing to  God  tlie  fears  of  nature,  and 
fortifying  herself  by  prayer,  she  received 
the  surgeon  wi#i  calmness  and  even  gayety. 
"  You  come  with  the  most  innocent  look 
imaginable,"  she  said,  "but  I  cannot  be 
deceived,  I  assure  you.  I  know  you  are 
going  to  cut  my  throat.  Very  well,  what 
must  be,  must  be ;  I  consent  to  be  your 
victim;  come,  draw  your  weapon."  Then, 
while  the  surgeon  himself  trembled  at  the 
cruel  necessity,  the  faithful  spouse  of  Jesus 
suffering  received,  with  gentle  courage, 
the  deep  cross-cut  in  the  tumor,  saying: 
"  I  am  now  marked  with  the  seal  of  my 
Lord.  It  consoles  me  to  think  my  divine 
Master  can  now  never  deny  I  am  His  very 
own,  seeing  me  marked  with  the  sign  of 
the  cross — no  more  than  a  shepherd  can 
mistake  the  sheep  on  which  his  mark  is 
stamped !"  This  sacred  sign  remained 
perfectly  engraved  on  her  neck  to  the  end 
of  her  life. 

This  operation,  intended  for  her  relief, 
only  served  to  aggravate  her  sufferings. 
The  wound,  instead  of  healing,  enlarged ; 
gangrene  set  in,  and  all  hope  of  human 
aid  having  ended,  they  resorted  to  divine. 
A  novena  in  honor  of  "The  Holy  Face" 
was  commenced,  and  a  lamp  burned  before 
an  image  of  it  in  the  infirmary,  and  the 
wound  anointed  with  the  oil.  Relief  was 
immediate,  and  her  convalescence  though 
slow  was  sure.  Speaking  afterwards  of 
her  sufferings  at  this  time,  she  said  to  one 
of  the  sisters,  who  had  a  foreboding  and 
excessive  fear  of  having  great  pain  to  en- 
dure at  some  future  day :  "  My  child,  when 
God  sends  pain  He  sends  the  strength  to 
bear  it.  Like  you,  I  used  to  tremble  at  the 
idea  of  bodily  suffering.  Before  I  had 
that  tumor  I  had  never  known  what  acute 
pain  was ;  but  I  do  not  believe  it  is  possible 
to  feel  greater  agony  than  I  then  bore. 
Of  myself  I  could  not  have  endured  ruck 


anguish,  but  God  sustained  me  and  taught 
me  to  comprehend  how  advantageous  it  is 
to  suffer  for  His  sake."  Though  Sister 
Seraphine  recovered  from  this  illness,  the 
end  of  her  earthly  days  was  drawing  very 
near,  and  she  seemed  to  hasten  on  her 
course  making  sensible  progress  in  the 
way  of  perfection. 

The  spring  following  this  illness,  the 
Archbishop  of  Paris  called  on  Sister  Sera- 
phine to  aid,  by  her  pious  counsels,  en- 
lightened views,  and  experience,  in  the 
establishment  of  the  Congregation  of  the 
Blind  Sisters  of  St.  Paul,  which  was  then 
just  commencing.  The  venerable  nun 
passed  a  fortnight  in  the  little  house  of 
Vaugirard,  where  the  new-born  community 
were  assembling.  She  made  them  prac- 
tice, under  her  superintendence,  the  ob- 
servances of  religion,  explaining  its  spirit, 
and  encouraging  the  pious  foundress  to 
persevere  in  an  enterprise  so  touching,  so 
precious  to  the  eye  of  faith.  She  found  it 
entirely  conformable  to  the  spirit  of  the 
founder  of  her  own  order.  "  What  would 
not  St.  Francis  de  Sales  have  done,"  she 
exclaimed,  "  to  help  these  dear  sightless 
ones  to  consecrate  themselves  to  God? — 
he  who  wished  that  in  his  own  order  the 
infirm  of  every  kind  should  be  tenderly 
welcomed !"  God  chose  her  for  an  instru- 
ment in  this  holy  work,  and  for  over  three 
years  she  gave  herself  with  indefatigable 
devotion  to  its  establishment. 

Cardinal  de  Bonald  had  for  a  long  time 
been  asking  for  her  aid  in  another  mis- 
sion of  charity;  and  she  only  left  the 
Blind  Sisters  to  proceed  to  the  "Refuge  of 
St.  Elizabeth,"  at  Fourviere.  Of  her  labors 
there  we  will  let  the  Franciscan  nuns 
speak,  in  the  following  letter: 

".  .  .  .  God  visited  us  in  His  mercy 
when  He  sent  amongst  us  this  saintly  re- 
ligious. She  was  like  a  messenger  from 
heaven  sent  to  instl'uct  us  In  the  true 
meaning  of  that  beautiful  phrase  '  The 
religious  life,'  and  to  make  us  comprehend 
all  the  graces  included  in  our  holy  calling. 

"  We  could  never  perceive  ii\  her  the 
least  imperfection;  to  the  most  angelic 
piety  she  unitedthe  gayety  of  a  child,  and 


AVE      MARIA. 


201 


simple  as  a  dove  was  yet  wise  as  a  ser- 
pent." Then,  after  expatinting  at  consider- 
able length  on  her  various  virtues,  they 
proceeded  to  give  some  details  of  the 
special  work  she  was  culled  on  to  under- 
take among  them.  Before  speaking  farther 
of  the  fruits  of  salvation  that  her  visit  pro- 
duced, we  ought  to  give  some  account  of 
the  peculiar  causes  that  induced  the  found- 
ation of  this  house.  It  owed  its  ex- 
istence to  some  nurses  who  were  serving 
in  an  ancient  hospital.  These  excellent 
women,  touched  with  compassion  for  the 
poor  sinners  whose  dissipated  lives  had 
made  them  the  victims  of  disease,  and 
forced  them  into  this  shelter,  wished  earn- 
estly to  open  an  asylum  where,  their  bodily 
evils  being  cured,  they  might  find  the 
helps  they  needed  to  cure  their  spiritual 
ones,  and  have  an  opportunity  to  return  to 
God.  They  soon  found  themselves  in 
charge  of  a  groat  number  of  penitents,  and 
in  order  to  proceed  more  surely  in  the 
work,  these  persons  constituted  themselves 
a  regular  community  of  the  third  order  of 
St.  Francis  of  Assisium.  The  ardent  zeal 
which  possessed  this  great  saint  for  souls, 
and  the  charity  that  was  the  distinguish- 
ing virtue  of  his  sainted  "disciple,  "the 
dear  Saint  Elizabeth,"  were  their  motives 
for  choosing  this  rule,  and  the  special  title 
of  their  house.  But  they  had  not  fore- 
seen the  difficulties  which  this  step  would 
plunge  them  into.  They  endured  for  twelve 
years  unceasing  and  bitter  trials.  Toiling 
at  the  hardest  labors,  and  without  any 
competent  person  to  direct  them  in  the 
ways  of  a  regular  life,  these  poor  sisters 
had  nothing  lo  sustain  them  but  their  own 
courageous  perseverance.  At  last  God 
put  an  end  to  their  sufferings  by  sending 
them  a  heavenly  consoler  in  the  person  of 
the  venerable  Mother  Seraph ine. 

"  We  could  find  no  words  to  tell,"  con- 
tinue these  sisters,  **  what  we  owe  to  the 
devoted  zeal  of  this  chosen  soul.  Almost 
instantly  she  comprehended  all  the  diffi- 
culties of  our  position,  and  in  an  astonish- 
ingly brief  time  she  established  among  us 
the  various  practices  of  the  religious  life. 
By  the  clearest  and  most  forcible  instruc- 


tions she  made  us  understand  the  daticB 
of  our  holy  vocation,  and  enlightened  our 
minds  as  to  the  true  meaning  of  our  rules 
and  constitutions.  She  so  wisely  arranged 
the  distribution  of  our  time  that  we  could 
fulfil  all  the  exercises  proper  to  the  cloister, 
prayer,  the  holy  office,  spiritual  lecture*, 
etc.,  without  detriment  to  our  numerous 
occupations.  At  once  were  established 
all  the  holy  customs,  which  apparently 
insurmountable  difficulties  had  hitherto 
seemed  to  oppose,  and  which  have  since 
been  our  dearest  consolations.  Not  only 
did  she  devote  herself  thus  to  the  good  of 
our  sisterhood,  but  her  charity  was  ex- 
tended to  all  the  inmates  of  the  house,  and 
she  did  much  for  the  welfare  of  the  peni- 
tents under  our  care,  above  all  by  estab- 
lishing among  them  the  spirit  of  prayer 
and  regnlarity." 

After  adding  this  to  her  many  other 
valuable  labors  in  the  cause  of  religion, 
and  having  spent  a  little  while  in  visits  to 
several  houses  of  her  own  order,  she  was 
called  on,  by  Monseigneur  de  Bailleul,  to 
give  her  help,  that  was  required  by  a  com- 
munity in  his  diocese;  but  the  nature  of 
the  special  work  done  by  her  here  is  not 
mentioned  by  her  French  biographer,  but 
merely  the  fact  that  she  remained  two 
months.  After  this  a  considerable  time 
was  again  spent  by  her  in  a  series  of  visits 
to  their  difterent  monasteries,  the  object 
of  them  being  connected  with  the  work  of 
the  pensionnats. 

Our  Lord  seems  to  have  taught  her  how 
to  take  little  children  into  her  motherly 
arms  that  she  might  place  them  in  His. 
She  encouraged  such  of  the  community  as 
were  obliged  by  their  temporal  necessities 
to  resort  to  teaching,  for  support,  to  un- 
dertake it  in  the  spirit  of  devotion  and 
self-sacrifice.  The  work  of  educating  the 
young  appeared  to  her,  in  the  present  state 
of  society,  the  most  suitable  means  to  pro- 
vide for  the  wants  of  a  religious  commu- 
nity. Her  remarks  on  this  subject  are 
very  precious;  the  state  of  voluntary  pov- 
erty no  longer  inspires  the  pious  re8i>ect 
with  which  it  was  regarded  in  former  ages, 
and  mere  manual  labor  would  hardly  afford 


203 


AVE     MARIA. 


a  support.  Besides  this,  the  spirit  of  re- 
ligion itself  may  be  strengthened  by  the 
spirit  of  sacrifice  the  work  of  teaching, 
faithfully  undertaken,  produces;  and  not 
only  thus,  but  in  devoting  themselves  to 
the  work,  religious  respond  to  the  wishes 
of  the  highest  spiritual  authority  and  the 
actual  needs  of  the  Church.  One  day  she 
developed  this  idea:  "Our  prelates  be- 
lieve that  the  education  of  the  young  is 
the  most  certain  means  for  the  reformation 
of  society,  so  disturbed  by  repeated  revo- 
lutions. Now,  the  holy  founder  of  our 
order  ordained  that  we  should  be  entirely 
ruled  by  the  wishes  of  our  bishops,  and 
always  submissive  to  their  advice,  in  all 
things  not  contrary  to  our  spirit;  and  we 
believe  that  we  do  not  contravene  this 
spirit  in  instructing  children,  for  he  also 
said  that  we  should  seek  to  participate  in 
the  a/>o«^o/ic  spirit ;  and  in  the  Directory 
he  gave  us,  tells  us  that  our  whole  life  and 
all  our  exercises  should  have  for  their  end 
to  unite  ourselves  to  God,  to  give  Holy 
Church  the  aid  of  our  prayers  and  good 
example,  and  to  seek  the  salvation  of  our 
neighbor?  It  is  evident  to  all  that  the 
sisters  who  take  into  the  school  the  spirit 
of  their  vocation,  come  out  from  it  even 
more  full  of  religious  virtues  than  those 
who  have  not  been  thus  employed.  My 
experience  fully  proves  this.  I  have  hardly 
ever  failed  to  find  in  the  sisters  employed 
in  the  school  a  deep-rooted  habit  of  de- 
votion and  self-sacrifice,  which  makes  them 
capable  of  aspiring  to  the  highest  perfec- 
tion, and  as  plastic  as  wax  under  the  form- 
ing hand  of  their  superior ;  yet  we  do  not 
wish  that  the  desire  to  devote  themselves 
to  the  work  of  education  should  be  domin- 
ant in  the  subjects  that  offer  themselves  to 
us,  because  the  attraction  of  our  order  is 
to  the  interior  life.  To  sum  up  all:  we 
see  that  the  blessings  of  God  rest  on  the 
little  ones  who  are  confided  to  us,  which 
is  a  proof  our  labors  are  pleasing  to  Him. 
I  give  thanks  to  our  good  God  when  I  see 
how  our  pupils  spread  abroad  in  the  world 
the  good  odor  of  Jesus  Christ.  The  sim- 
plicity xind  gentleness  that  is  the  spirit  of 
our  order   is  peculiarly  fitted   to  attract 


children  to  the  love  of  virtue ;  and  we  seek, 
in  our  method  of  education,  to  cultivate 
these  characteristics,  and  to  form  them 
to  piety  with  even  greater  care  than  we 
give  to  instructing  them  in  mere  human 
science." 

But,  while  she  thus  saw  the  work  of  God 
in  the  toils  of  education,  she  was  exceed- 
ingly watchful  that  the  sisters  employed 
in  the  school  should  not  be  deprived  of  the 
precious  advantages  of  the  community  ex- 
ercises. Her  mother's  heart  too  could  not 
endure  that  her  daughters  should  be  over- 
burdened with  exterior  occupations,  al- 
ways so  trying  to  souls  whose  vocation  is 
that  of  continual  prayer. 

In  February,  1854,  after  a  visit  to  the 
birth-place  of  her  order,  where  she  enjoyed 
the  greatest  spiritual  delight  in  beholding 
the  tombs  and  relics  of  their  holy  founders, 
Mother  Seraphine  once  more  returned  to 
her  own  monastery,  where  this  venerable 
nun,  who  had  been  the  admiration  of  so 
many  different  communities,  to  whose  ex- 
perience and  talents  the  princes  of  the 
Church  had  confided  the  most  difficult 
works,  showed  herself  in  the  community 
she  had  formed,  the  most  humble,  the  most 
submissive,  the  last  and  least  of  all.  By 
her  perfect  fidelity  and  the  heartfelt  cheer- 
fulness with  which  she  conformed  to  all 
observances,  it  was  easy  to  see  with  what 
delight  this  true  daughter  of  holy  Mary 
once  more  found  herself  in  her  natural 
element. 

[to  be    conthtued.] 


It  does  not  fall  to  the  lot  of  every  one 
to  practice  those  grand  virtues  of  energy, 
magnanimity,  magnificence,  martyrdom, 
patience,  perseverance,  and  valor.  Occa- 
sions for  such  acts  occur  but  rarely ;  and 
yet  everybody  aspires  to  them,  because 
they  are  dazzling  and  have  a  great  name. 
It  often  happens  that  people  imagine  them- 
selves equal  to  the  performance ;  their 
bravery  becomes  inflated  with  this  vain 
opinion  of  self,  and  when  the  occasion  is 
offered,  down  they  come  with  an  inglori- 
ous fall.— /S«.  F.  de  Sales. 


AVE     MARIA. 


203 


The  Late  Bbhop  Leferre. 

The  Right  Kev.  Peter  Paul  Lefevre, 
Roman  Catholic  Bisliop  and  administrator 
of  the  Diocese  of  Detroit,  at  present  com- 
prising the  lower  peninsula  of  the  State 
of  Michigan,  having  been  called  by  Al- 
mighty God  from  the  scene  of  his  labors, 
in  this,  the  twenty-eighth  year  of  his  ad- 
ministration, died  as  had  lived,  humble 
and  apostolic. 

The  funeral  services  were  held  in  the 
cathedr:il  in  presence  of  a  larger  number 
of  persons  than  ever  before  assembled 
in  that  building.  By  10  o'clock  every  seat 
was  occupied  and  all  the  aisles  and  galleries, 
except  a  small  portion  of  the  center  aisle 
where  the  crypt  was  situated,  were  packed 
80  closely  as  to  render  any  attempt  to 
pass  through  entirely  impossible. 

At  length  those  who  were  to  assist  in 
the  ceremonies,  including  Archbishop  Pur- 
cell,  of  Cincinnati;  Bishop  Luers  of  Fort 
Wayne,  Indiana;  Bishop  Rappe,  of  Cleve- 
land, and  seventy-seven  priests,  entered 
the  church.  The  celebration  of  Pontifi- 
cal Mass  was  immediately  afterward  be- 
gun by  Bishop  Rappe,  celebrant,  who  was 
assisted  by  Rev.  Father  Ilennessy,  of  De- 
troit, master  of  ceremonies;  Father  BofT, 
of  Toledo,  assistant  priest ;  Father  De 
Dycker,  of  Detroit,  deacon;  Father  McMa- 
nus,  of  Gratton,  subdeacon,  and  Father 
Buyse,  of  Swan  Creek,  assistant  master 
of  ceremonies.  The  Most  Rev.  Archbishop 
preached  the  funeral  service. 

Bishop  Lefevre  was  a  native  of  Roulers, 
Belgium,  a  town  in  the  Province  of  West 
Flanders,  near  Ghent,  where  he  was  born  in 
May,  1804.  Destined  from  early  years  for 
the  priesthood,  he  pursued  the  usual  course 
of  theological  studies,  and  after  graduat- 
ing offered  himself  for  the  North  Ameri- 
can mission,  came  to  the  United  States  and 
was  ordained  a  subdeacon  by  Bishop  Rosati, 
at  St.  Louis  in  1831.  The  field  of  his  first 
missionary  labors  was  a  wild  and  sparsely 
settled  portion  of  Missouri,  certainly  not 
one  calculated  to  give  the  young  stranger, 


fresh  from  college  halls  in  civilized  Eu- 
rope, a  very  flattering  impression  of  the 
people  of  this  country.  The  territory  was 
an  extensive  region,  involving  much  labor- 
ious travel  and  untold  hardships  to  reach 
the  scattered  communities  and  families 
needing  spiritual  care.  But  the  field  was 
one  inviting  the  zealous  missionary  to 
great  exertions.  Families  untaught,  un« 
baptized — adults  and  children  alike,  who 
had  been  strangers  to  the  sacraments  and 
teachings  of  the  Church,  had  to  be  sought 
out  and  brought  within  the  fold.  Ten 
years — the  sweetest  years  of  human  life — 
with  all  the  fire  and  zeal  of  a  Xavier,  did 
the  young  priest  devote  himself  to  this 
work.  Oblivious  of  danger,  regardless  of 
privations  and  the  humiliating  trials  to 
which  he  was  frequently  exposed,  he 
persevered  in  his  apostolic  labors,  and 
achieved  a  success  in  the  rich  harvest  of 
immortal  souls,  as  glorious  as  his  work 
had  been  permanent.  Broken  in  health, 
but  crowned  with  his  missionary  laurels, 
he  sought  a  brief  season  of  repose  in  his 
native  land,  and  while  abroad  was  selected 
as  administrator  for  this  diocese,  then 
needing  a  spiritual  head,  was  appointed 
Bishop  of  Zela  in  part.,  coadjutor  admin- 
istrator of  the  Diocese  of  Detroit,  and 
consecrated  November  21,  1841. 

A  brief  glance  at  the  status  of  the  dio- 
cese upon  his  accession  will  best  illustrate 
the  prospects  before  him.  When  Bishop 
Lefevre  assumed  charge  of  his  see,  which 
then  embraced  the  whole  State,  there  were 
five  priests  in  the  Upper  Peninsula  from 
Mackinac  to  the  head  of  Lake  Superior, 
among  whom  were  the  late  saintly  Bishop 
Baraga  and  the  recently  consecrated  Bishop 
Mrak,  of  Marquette. 

In  the  Lower  Peninsula  the  parishes 
outside  of  Detroit  comprised  Ann  Arbor, 
Flint,  Grand  Rapids,  Livingston,  Monroe 
and  Mount  Clemens.  In  the  city  pro|)er 
were  the  parishes  of  St.  Anne,  Holy  Trinity, 
and  St.  Mary's  just  organized.  There 
were  six  priests  in  the  city  and  about  as 
many  more  attending  the  missions  above 
named.  Thus,  outside  of  Detroit  and  its 
immediate  vicinity,  with  the  exception  of 


204= 


AVE     MARIA 


Grand  Rapids,  which  had  a  small  Canadian 
population,  the  whole  State  of  Michigan 
was  unprovided  with  priests.  That  portion 
of  the  State  bordering  upon  Indiana  and 
Illinois,  in  the  vicinity  of  Niles,  received 
an  occasional  visit  from  the  priests  of  the 
College  of  Notre  Dame. 

To  provide  a  sufficient  number  of  worthy 
priests  for  this  State  was  the  great  and 
paramount  object  and  necessity  first  con- 
sidered. This  is  a  peculiar  event.  Nearly 
all  oiher  wants  in  this  world  can  be  taken 
care  of  almost  instanter  with  the  aid  of 
money,  but  money  fails  to  provide  a  supply 
of  priests  in  the  United  States  at  any  given 
time.  The  fact  is,  the  whole  countiy 
needed  what  we  did,  and  could  not  obtain 
what  was  wanted  here  from  indigenous 
sources.  Young  men  with  vocations  for 
the  priesthood  were  exceedingly  rare  in  the 
United  States,  and  recourse  must  be  had 
to  the  old  catholic  countries  of  Europe, 
where  the  catholic  priesthood  is  best  re- 
cruited from  the  abundance  of  pious  youth, 
dedicated  by  good  parents  for  the  work 
of  God,  who  find  a  vocation  and  devote 
themselves  to  missionary  labor  in  every 
portion  of  the  globe.  From  Europe,  there- 
fore, our  new  priests  had  to  be  obtained. 
Bishop  Lefevre,  as  soon  as  possible,  sent  to 
his  native  country,  where  he  was  best 
known  and  commanded  most  influence,  to 
obtain  the  required  missionaries.  When 
priests  are  to  be  obtained  in  Europe  for 
any  particular  mission  in  America,  theo- 
logical students  are  selected  who  volun- 
teer for  such  service,  prepare  themselves 
by  the  studies  of  language,  etc.,  requisite 
for  the  purpose,  in  due  time  receive  ordin- 
ation in  full,  or  minor  orders,  cross  the 
ocean  and  proceed  to  their  destination ; 
or  after  their  course  of  theology  they  are 
sent  to  the  diocese  for  which  they  are  in- 
tended, where  they  finish  their  studies, 
are  ordained  and  enter  upon  their  duties. 
From  these  details  it  will  be  seen  how  fast 
a  bishop  can  progress  in  such  a  work;  or, 
rather,  how  much  time  was  required'at  that 
day  to  provide  for  the  spiritual  wants  of  a 
whole  State,  men  in  all  respects  suitable 
for  the  duties  and  proper  for  the  responsi- 


bilities of  the  catholic  priesthood.  This 
was  the  paramount  interest  and  principal 
object  first  presented  for  the  consideration 
of  the  bishop  as  the  highest  in  the  scale 
of  spiritual  wants.  How  delicate  the 
nature  and  difficult  to  overcome  has  al- 
ready been  explained. 

In  a  few  years  seminarians  and  priestiS 
began  to  arrive,  and  have  been  provided 
and  distributed  as  the  wants  of  the  State 
required.  The  few  parishes  named  in  the 
foregoing  remarks  was  the  status  of  the  es- 
tablished order  of  churches  at  that  time. 
Let  us  see  what  is  the  present  status  of  the 
diocese.  The  whole  Upper  Peninsula  has 
been  separated  and  erected  into  the  See  of 
Marquette.  The  Diocese  of  Detroit,  in  the 
Lower  Peninsula,  outside  this  city,  has 
now  160  regularly  organized  parishes, 
numbering  many  fine  churches  and  served 
regularly  by  priests,  and  these  parishes 
are  rapidly  increasing  and  churches  are  be- 
ing built  in  all  directions.  In  the  city 
proper  there  are  eight  churches  built,  and 
the  land  for  several  more  has  been  pur- 
chased and  paid  for.  Works  of  charity  in 
the  mean  time  have  not  been  forgotten. 
St.  Mary's  Hospital  and  the  Michigan  State 
Retreat  have  been  established  and  are  un- 
incumbered. Several  orphan  asylums  have 
been  founded,  as  have  also  convents,  acad- 
emies and  schools  in  the  city  proper.  The 
American  College  of  Louvain  has  been  in 
part  established  for  the  especial  benefit  of 
this  State  in  the  education  of  ecclesiastics, 
and  is  now  in  charge  of  a  vicar-general 
of  this  diocese.  Thus  far  in  all  that  re- 
lates to  spiritual  matters  Bishop  Lefevre 
leaves  a  large  and  flourishing  diocese, 
well  organized,  destined  rapidly  to  increase, 
and  a  comparative  easy  task  for  his  suc- 
cessor to  manage  and  control. 

The  above  account  we  condense  from  a 
Detroit  daily  paper,  leaving  out  some 
parts  which  are  not  of  general  interest. 


EvEBY  one  is  not  capable  of  practising 
the  austerity  of  the  saints,  yet  every  one 

may  imitate  them  in  many  things. 


AVE      MARIA. 


205 


II«B«  Charles  Lannrdale. 

CharlesLangdale,  lately  deoeftRcdin  Eng- 
land, merited  by  his  many  and  continued 
acts  of  charity  through  u  long  life  of  over 
eighty  years,  the  title  of  "Father  of  the 
Poor," — a  title  glorious  in  the  sight  of 
angels  and  men !  This  alone  would  secure 
a  reeonl  of  his  name  in  our  Blessed  Moth- 
er's journal.  Born  in  England  two  years 
before  the  outbreak  of  the  great  revolution 
in  France,  towards  the  end  of  the  last  cen- 
tury, he  lived  to  see  many  changes  in  the 
condition  of  the  Catholic  Church  in  Eng- 
land— of  that  portion  of  the  Church  of 
which  he  was  "  so  bright  an  ornament,  and 
which  now  so  sincerely  deplores  his  loss."* 
The  penal  laws  were  in  full  force  when  he 
was  born,  and  he  lived  to  see  the  catholic 
hierarchy  restored  to  England,  and  the 
schismatical  and  heretical  Church  of  Enjr- 
land  tottering  on  the  verge  of  ruin  from 
the  well  directed  blows  of  friends  and  foes, 
from  within  and  from  without. 

Through  the  vicissitudes  of  political 
events  that  arc  culminating  now  in  the 
overthrow  of  that  crying  injustice  in  Ire- 
land, to  be  followed  in  God's  good  time 
by  the  comj)lete  return  of  England  to  her 
ancient  faith,  to  which  she  owes  all  she  has 
that  is  truly  great,  Charles  Langdale  lived 
his  a<'tive  energetic  life,  ever  demeaning 
himself  as  a  staunch,  fervent  catholic.  One 
incident  which  shows  his  courage  and  his 
love  for  our  Blesstul  Mother,  we  quote  from 
The  Month,  as  it  goes  to  show  that  the 
thorough  catholic,  the  true  believer  in  the 
Son,  and  faithful  fultiller  of  His  command- 
ments, is  always  a  devoted  child  of  His 
Mother,  and  ever  ready  to  defend  her  hon- 
or.    7%«  Month  says : 

Often  in  his  lU'e,  nothwithstandinghis 
high  social  position  ami  the  respect  which 
everywhere  haunted  his  footsteps,  Mr. 
Langdale  had  to  bear  before  a  hostile  and 
sneering  world  witness  to  the  faith  that 
was  in  him.  One  celebrated  occasion  has 
already  been  twice  spoken  of  in  public — by 

♦  ITie  MifntK,  for  February. 


the  Archbishop  of  Westminster  in  his  ser- 
mon at  the  Funeral  Mass  for  3Ir.  Langdale 
in  the  church  of  the  Immaculate  Concep- 
tion, Farm  Street,  and  again  by  the  writer 
of  the  sermon  before  us  in  the  chapel  of 
Houghton,  It  was,  in  a  sense,  the  proud- 
est day  of  Mr.  Langdale's  life — as  the  day 
on  which  lie  refused  to  do  the  bidding  of 
the  excited  mob  of  his  countrymen  in  put- 
ting to  the  vote  the  hasty  decree  against 
the  commanders  at  Arginusie  was  the 
greatest  day  in  the  life  of  Socrates.  The 
nearest  approach  which  our  times  have 
seen  to  actual  persecution  of  catholics  in 
England  was  at  the  time  of  the  so-called 
"  Papal  Aggression,"  and  it  was  in  the 
midst  of  that  excittmient,  at  a  great  county 
meeting  at  York,  that  in  answer  to  Lord 
Fitzwilliam's  invidious  challenge,  Mr. 
Langdale  stood  forward  to  profess  his  be- 
lief in  the  catholic  faith,  and  especially  in 
the  power  of  the  intercession  of  the  Moth- 
er of  God. 

"  When  the  noble  lord,  after  announcing 
to  the  assembled  crowd  that  Pope  Pius  had 
restored  the  Hierarchy  '  under  the  patron- 
age of  the  Immaculate  Mother  of  God  and 
the  Saints  of  England,'  went  on  to  say 
that  he  ventured  to  hope  the  catholics  of 
England  were  too  enlightened  to  sanction 
such  words  ;  and  put  the  challenge,  '  I 
doubt  whether  any  gentleman  on  these 
hustings  would  stand  forward  and  say  in 
words  not  capable  of  another  interpreta- 
tion that  he  believes  in  the  patronage  of 
the  Virgin  and  the  Saints,'  he  whose  lips 
are  now  closed  in  this  cotfin  Ipst  not  an 
instant  in  giving  the  reply. 

"  After  reprobating  therefore  very  dis- 
creetly the  introduction  of  such  topics  in 
presence  of  a  divided  population,  he  said: 
'  But  as  the  noble  lord  has  chosen  to  do  so, 
I  am  here  in  the  face  of  the  population  of 
York,  almost  all  of  yon  differing  from  me 
in  religion,  to  reply  to  the  question  he  has 
proposed  to  me.  He  asks  me  would  any 
man  stand  up  and  proclaim  his  belief  in 
the  assistance  and  j)atronage  of  the  Saints? 
Well,  I  am  here  to  proclaim  my  belief  in 
the  patronage  and  protection  of  the  Bless- 
ed Mother  of  God  and  of  His   Saints.' 


206 


AVE     MARIA 


And  then,  after  the  cries  of  disapprobation 
had  died  away,  he  turned  to  this  noble  ben- 
efactor, who  liad  given  him  this  golden 
opportunity,  and  said:  '  Have  I  answered 
the  question  Avith  sufficient  distinctness 
for  the  noble  Earl?  I  ask  him  once  more, 
since  the  noble  Earl  seems  to  think  we 
would  resort  to  special  pleading,  have  I 
spoken  plainly?'  '  Certainly,  quite  plain- 
ly,' was  the  Earl's  answer.  Yes,  brethren, 
quite  plainly. '  " 

The  Earthquake  at  Qnito. 


The  Most  Rev.  Archbishop  of  Baltimore 
has  received  a  letter  from  the  Prioress  of 
the  Carmelite  nuns  of  Quito,  South 
America,  graphically  portraying  the  des- 
olation caused  by  the  terrible  earthquake 
of  last  August,  and  eloquently  pleading 
for  succor.  She  says : — The  number  of 
killed  among  the  inhabitants  of  Quito  was 
not  considerable;  only  eleven  persons  were 
the  victims  of  this  terrible  visitation  of 
Heaven.  But,  alas!  such  was  notthecase 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  capital,  for  at  Ibarra, 
a  city  of  14,000  souls,  and  distant  from 
Quito  about  twenty-five  leagues,  6,000 
people  perished  during  that  awful  night. 
That  unfortunate  city  may  be  said  to 
present  a  spectacle  similar  to  that  pres- 
ented by  ancient  Jerusalem  after  its  sack  by 
the  armies  of  Titus.  The  sight  presented 
by  the  ancient  town  of  Octaralo,  distant 
some  twelve  or  fifteen  leagues,  is  not  less 
heartrending;  its  population  was  of  6,000 
souls,  and  only  one  fourth  have  survived. 
Finally,  the  number  of  victims  that  perished 
through  this  fearful  catastrophe  is  estima- 
ted at  30,000.  At  Ibarra  the  fearful  event  I 
have  described,  destroyed  entirely  the  con- 
vent, and  buried  under  its  ruins  three  re- 
liffious  and  their  Mother  Prioress.  The 
latter  seeing  that  the  holy  Ciboriura  was 
in  danger  of  being  crushed  by  the  falling 
timbers,  hastened  to  save  it.  She  succeed- 
ed in  detaching  the  holy  Tabernacle ;  and, 
as  she  turned  to  go,  triumphantly  bearing 
this  precious  treasure  in  her  virginal  hands, 
the  roof  of  the  church  fell  in,  burying  under 


its  fragments  the  venerable  Mother  Prior- 
ess, Cannende  Santa  Ana.  Thus  perished 
one  who  gave  her  life  for  her  adorable 
Saviour.  Later,  this  heroine  of  the  faith 
of  her  fathers  was  found  dead,  crushed 
and  bleeding,  at  the  foot  of  the  altar,  and 
still  holding  the  holy  Tabernacle  in  her 
pure  and  innocent  hands.  The  Prioress 
appeals  to  the  generosity  of  the  cathylics 
of  the  United  States  for  aid  to  erect  the 
convent.  They  are  now  living  in  a  straw 
hut.  Donations  may  be  sent  to  Brother 
Merule,  Procurator  of  the  Brothers  of  the 
Christian  Schools,  No.  48  Second  street, 
Second  Avenue,  Xew  York. 

Rome. 


His  Holiness's  carnival  consists,  as  your 
readers  are  aware,  in  visits  to  churches  and 
convents;  on  Saturday  he  visited  the  Car- 
avita,  and  on  Monday  the  .Tesii,  and  the 
affection  and  loyalty  with  which  his  pas- 
sage was  hailed  by  all  classes  of  the  pop- 
ulation was  most  touching.  His  health  is 
excellent,  and  although  he  looked  tired  on 
the  2d,  at  St.  Peter's,  he  is  perfectly  re- 
stored. A  report  of  his  death  has,  it  ap- 
pears, been  circulated  on  'Change  at  Paris 
and  Vienna,  and  probably  took  its  origin 
from  a  slight  appearance  of  fatigue  on 
Candlemas  Day.  He  received  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Anazarba  last  night  in  a  farewell 
audience,  and  was  then  perfectly  well. 
His  Grace  leaves  to-morrow  for  London 
and  Glasgow.  His  Holiness  will  confer 
the  Sacrament  of  Confirmation  on  Lord 
Bute  in  his  private  chapel  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, previous  to  his  departure  for  the  Holy 
Land,  whence  he  returns  here  for  Easter. 

If  Victor  Emmanuel  was  ill  received  on 
previous  occasions  in  Naples,  his  cup  of 
unpopularity  has  brimmed  over  during 
last  visit.  No  one  save  the  demi  niondey 
and  a  few  of  the  families  who  were  among 
the  most  notorious  traitors  to  Francis  II, 
attended  the  balls.  The  noblesse  sent 
back  the  keys  of  their  boxes  M  the  San 
Carlo  when  the  King  announced  his  in- 
tention of  being  present,  and  the  police 


AVE     MARIA. 


207 


gave  away  the  places,  nndiilled  the  dress 
circle  with  the  wives  of  employes,  etc. 
The  flowers  thrown  into  the  Princess's 
carriage  had  "Viva  Francesco  ll  "  on  the 
paper  encircling  them,  and  not  only  the 
clerical  but  the  liberal  press  testify  to  the 
utter  Jiasco  the  royal  visit  has  been.  The 
Cardinal  Archbishop  removed  at  once  to 
the  villa  he  possesses  at  Sorrento,  and 
only  returned  for  the  Ash  AVcdnesday 
ceremony. 

Notice  of  Books. 


Practical  Piety,  set  forth  by  St.  Fran- 
cis de  Sales,  Bishop  and  Prince  of  Geneva; 
Collected  from  his  letters  and  discourses. 
First  American  Edition.  Published  by 
John  Murphy  &  Co.,  Printers  to  the  Pope, 
and  to  the  Archbishop  of  Baltimore,  182 
Baltimore  St.,  Baltimore,  Md. 

We  hope  every  reader  of  the  Ave  Maria 
will  at  once  send  on  to  Mr.  Murphy  and 
get  this  excellent  book. 

The  Most  Rev.  Archbishop  of  Baltimore 
in  his  recommendation  of  this  1st  Ameri- 
can Edition  says:  "The  Spiritual  "Works 
of  the  illustrious  St.  Francis  de  Sal^,  from 
which  these  practical  lessons  are  extracted, 
need  no  eulogy ;  a  general  use  of  them  for 
more  than  two  hundred  years  has  embalmed 
them  in  the  minds  of  the  faithful.  Their 
practical  wisdom,  their  great  moderation, 
their  marvellous  sweetness  and  unction, 
have  made  them  the  favorite  reading  of 
the  pious  in  all  portions  of  God's  Church." 

A  Spiritual  Retreat  of  Eight  Days. 
By  the  Rt.  Rev.  John  M.  David,  D.  D., 
First  Coadjutor  of  Bishop  Flaget.  Edited, 
with  additions,  and  an  Introduction,  by 
M.  J.  Spalding,  D.  D.,  Archbishop  of 
Baltimore.  Published  by  Murphy  &  Co., 
Baltimore. 

The  Roman  Vespkral  :  containing  the 
complete  Vespers  for  the  whole  year. 
With  the  Gregorian  Chants  in  Modern 
Notation.     Fifth  Revised  Edition. 

Kyriale;  or  Ordinary  of  Mass:  a  com- 
plete Liturgical  Manual,  with  Gregorian 
Chants  in  Modern  Notation.     For  the  use 


of  catholic  choirs  and  congregations.  Con- 
taining the  Kyrie^  etc.,  with  an  Appendix 
including  hymns,  psalms,  anthems,  litanies, 
and  prayers  for  the  exposition,  during  the 
exposition,  and  at  the  Benediction  of  the 
Most  Blessed  Sacrament.  Round  Notes. 
3d  Edition. 

The  Same:     Square  Notes — 2d  Edition. 

The  Holy  Week:  containing  the  offices 
of  Holy  Week,  from  the  Roman  Breviary 
and  Missal,  with  the  chants  in  Modern 
Notation.  With  the  approbation  of  the 
Most  Rev.,  the  Archbishop  of  Baltimore. 

The  various  editions  of  the  Kyriale  show 
that  it  has  been  appreciated  as  it  de8er\'e8. 

The  Holy  Week  will  be  found  very  con- 
venient to  all  who  assist  at  the  beautiful 
office  of  the  last  week  of  Lent. 


HILDREN'S 


EPARTMENT. 


The  Thunder  Storm. 


Frank,  a  boy  from  the  city,  had  gone  to 
the  woods  to  pick  raspberries.  As  he  was 
starting  ag:iin  for  home,  a  gust  of  wind 
suddenly  arose ;  the  rain  began  to  pour,  at- 
tended with  fearful  thunder  and  lightning. 
Frank  was  horror-stricken,  and  crept  into 
a  hollow  tree  a  little  off  the  road;  for  he 
did  not  know  that  high  trees  attracted  the 
lightning,  and  that  it  was  most  dangerous 
to  stand  under  them  in  a  storm. 

All  at  once  he  heard  a  voice  screaming 
"  Frank,  Frank  !  Oh,  come  out  quickly  !" 
Frank  crept  out  of  his  hollow  tree ;  when, 
almost  at  the  same  moment,  the  lightning 
struck  it,  with  a  deafening  crash  of  thunder. 
Le.ives  and  bark  fell  from  the  tree,  the 
ground  trembled  under  the  feet  of  the  ter- 
rified lad,  and  he  seemed  to  stand  in  the 
midst  of  fire.  Yet  no  h.arm  had  happened 
to  him,  and  raising  his  hands  with  a  feeling 
of  awe  and  gratitude  at  his  deliverance,  he 
said :  "  That  voice  came  from  heaven  ! — 
Thou,  blessed  God,  hast  delivered  me ! — 
Thanks  be  to  Thee!" 

The  voice,  however,  called  agiun : "  Frank, 


$08 


AVE     MARIA 


Frank,  don't  you  hear  me  ?"  And  now  for 
the  first  time  he  perceived  a  peasant  woman 
who  so  called.  Frank  hastened  to  her  and 
said  "Here  I  am.  What  do  you  want  of  me?" 

The  peasant  woman  replied:  "I  did  not 
mean  you,  but  my  little  Frank  who  has 
been  out  keeping  the  geese  yonder  by  the 
brook,  and  must  have  sought  shelter  from 
the  storm  somewhere  about  here.  See, 
there  he  comes  at  last,  out  of  the  bushes!" 

Frank,  the  city  boy,  now  told  how  he  had 
taken  her  call  for  a  voice  from  heaven. 
The  woman,  however,  devoutly  folded  her 
hands  and  said:  "O  my  child  !  thank  God 
none  the  less  for  it.  The  voice  came,  it  is 
true,  from  the  mouth  of  a  poor  peasant  wom- 
an ;  but  God  has  so  ordered  that  I  should 
call  loudly  and  speak  your  name  without 
knowing  anything  of  you.  He  has  saved 
you  from  the  great  danger  to  which  you 
were  exposed." 

Legends  of  Flowers. 


BY  LUCY  HOOPER. 

Oh,  gorgeous  tales,  in  days  of  old, 

"Were  linked  with  opening  flowers, 
As  if  in  their  fairy  urns  of  gold 

Beat  human  hearts  like  ours ; 
The  nuns  in  their  cloisters,  sad  and  pale, 

As  they  watched  soft  buds  expand. 
On  their  glowing  petals  traced  a  tale 

Or  legend  of  Holy  Land. 
Brightly  to  them  did  thy  snowy  leaves 

For  the  sainted  Mary  sliine. 
As  they  twined  for  her  forehead  vestal  wreaths 

Of  thy  white  buds,  cardamiiie! 

And  thou  of  faithful  memory, 

St.  John,  thou  "shining  light," 
Beams  not  a  burning  torch  for  thee, 

The  scarlet  lychnis,  bright? 
AVhile  Holy  iMary,  at  thy  shrine, 

Another  pure  flower  blooms. 
Welcome  to  thee  with  news  divine. 

The  lily's  faint  perfumes ; 
Proudly  its  stately  head  it  rears, 

Arraj'ed  in  virgin  white — 
So  truth  amid  a  world  of  tears. 

Doth  shine  with  vestal  light. 

And  thou,  whose  opening  buds  were  shown 

A  Saviour's  cross  beside. 
We  hail  thee,  passion-flower,  alone 

Sacred  to  Christ,  who  died, 


No  image  of  a  mortal  love. 

May  thy  bright  blossoms  be 
Linked  with  a  passion  far  above — 

A  Saviour's  agony. 
All  other  flowers  are  pale  and  dim. 

All  other  flowers  are  loss; 
We  twine  tliy  matchless  buds  for  Him 

Who  died  on  that  holy  cross. 


A  correspondent  of  the  Syracuse  Jour- 
nal writes :  "  A  line  of  a  hymn  given  out  at 
a  prayer  meeting  so  excited  the  curiosity 
of  my  little  girl,  that  on  returning  home 
she  repeated  it,  with  a  request  for  an  ex- 
planation. The  line,  as  she  heard  it,  was : 
'Mike  Kime's  a  bird  and  long  has  been.' 

"  At  the  cost  of  much  time  devoted  to  re- 
searches in  an  old  hymn-book,  and  the  ex- 
ercise of  a  patient  ingenuity ,«the  satisfac- 
tory discovery  was  made  of  the  original  of 
of  the  above  translation,  to  wit: 

'  My  crimes  a  burden  long  have  been.' 

"  In  entering  upon  this  search  I  had,  to  be 
sure,  the  advantage  accruing  from  a  recent 
solution  of  another  enigma  of  hers,  involv- 
ing '  who  is  Peteri  ?' 

"  Peteri  was  found  located  in  the  lines — 
*  False  to  Thee,  like  Peter,  I 
Would  fain  like  Peter  weep.'  " 

A  Teilliox. — This  is  a  simple  word,  but 
it  includes  a  good  many  units.  A  person 
who  had  commenced  counting  at  the  cre- 
ation and  had  been  miraculously  enabled 
to  continue  his  task  would  nothave  reached 
the  number  yet  by  a  very  considerable  mar- 
gin, because  a  trillion  of  seconds  is  about 
thirty-two  thousand  years.  A  little  calcu- 
lation of  this  sort  sometimes  renders  a 
man  better  able  to  appreciate  what  a  short 
space  of  time  he  is  allowed  to  live  in  this 
sublunary  sphere,  and  what  an  exceeding- 
ly long  period  eternity  is  compared  with 
it.  He  will  also  understand  that  a  few 
thousand  dollars  one  way  or  the  other 
make  very  little  diftVrence  to  him,  provid- 
ing he  is  able  to  get  enough  sleep  and 
three  meals  regularly,  and  can  run  up  a 
small  credit  account  against  mankind  for  a 
number  of  kind  services  renderedTicre  and 
and  there  along  his  brief  journey. 


AVE   MARIA. 

^  Catholic  journal,  AmUA  U  the  fmm  of  the  ^U^^tA  Virgin. 


Vol.  V. 


NOTRE  DAME,  INDIANA,  APRIL  3,  1869. 


Ho.  14. 


The  Annunciation. 


"Angelus  nuntiavit  Marue,  ct  concepit  deSpiritu 
Sancto." 

We  hail  with  renewed  pleaHure,  every 
year,  the  return,  in  the  ecclesiastical  cycle, 
of  this  most  adminable  and  most  import- 
ant Feast  of  the  Annunciation.  In  our 
humble  opinion  it  holds  the  first  rank  in 
our  religious  solemnities,  all  of  which 
may  be  considered  as  consequences  of  the 
mystery  of  the  Incarnation.  What  a  num- 
ber of  miracles  in  one  miracle!  The  Cre- 
ator of  all  things  receives  life  from  one  of 
His  own  creatures !  A  creature  brings 
forth  her  Creator,  a  woman  begets  God, 
encloses  in  her  womb  the  Incomprehen- 
sible ;  the  Eternal  begins  ;  the  All  Power- 
ful becomes  a  weak  babe;  the  Infinitely 
Great  annihilates  Himself  and  loses  noth- 
ing of  His  grandeur;  a  timid  virgin  holds 
in  her  dependence  the  sovereign  Lord  of 
the  whole  world ! 

Hence  the  declaration  of  the  Holy  Ghost 
by  the  mouth  of  the  humble  Virgin,  that 
this  mystery  manifests  above  all  others, 
the  power  of  the  Almighty :  fecit  potentiam 
in  brachio  sico.  The  heavens  are  the  work 
of  His  fingers:  opera  digitorum  tuorum 
sunt  cceli. — Ps.  viii.  When  God  intends 
something  great.  He  calls  it  the  work  of 
His  fingers  ;  if  it  is  of  greater  import,  it 
is  the  work  of  His  hand  ;  but  when  the 
undertaking  is  of  a  sovereign  magnitude, 
then  He  needs,  as  it  were,  employ  in  it  all 
the  strength  of  His  arm.  Hence  in  the 
mystery  of  the  Annunciation,  to  express 
the  mighty  work  it  reveals  the  character- 
istic expression  from  the  inspired  lips: 
fecit  potentiam  in  brachio  suu. 


The  Annunciation  equally  unfolds  the 
eternal  wisdom  of  God  :  by  the  use  He 
makes  of  man  and  woman,  He  shows  that 
He  has  redeemed  the  entire  human  fam- 
ily; and  He  places  beyond  doubt  the  real- 
ity of  the  Incarnation,  by  the  exhibition, 
in  one  person,  of  the  grandeur  of  the  Di- 
vinity together  with  the  weakness  of  our 
humanity.  The  Son  of  Mary  will  suffer 
and  weep  and  ail:  here  is  the  man.  He  is 
born  of  a  virgin,  as  no  man  ever  was  ;  He 
will  speak  as  man  never  spoke  and  do  won- 
ders which  no  man  ever  did;  here  is  God. 

That  He  is  a  man,  no  one  will  deny,  for 
He  was  born  of  a  woman,  as  every  other 
man;  of  His  Divinity  none  can  doubt,  for 
His  Mother  is  a  virgin. 

Thus  is  manifested  in  the  flesh,  within 
the  sacred  womb  of  Mary,  the  great  mys- 
tery foretold,  prefigured  from  the  begin- 
ning of  the  world,  a  mediator  between 
God  and  man,  an  Emmanuel,  a  God  with 
us,  a  Man-God  is  given  us  by  Mary,  and 
in  her  heart  heaven  and  earth  are  recon- 
ciled for  ever.  Oh  !  the  wisdom  of  the 
eternal  God  !    Oh  !  the  mercy  ! 

If  Jesus  had  come  down  from  heaven  in 
the  splendor  of  His  majesty,  or  even  with 
a  humanity  already  glorified,  could  we 
have  approached  Him  with  any  confi- 
dence? or  rather  should  we  not  have  fled 
from  Him,  as  Adam  and  Eve  in  Eden, 
conscious,  too,  of  our  own  guilt? 

But  we  behold  our  God  and  Saviour  in 
the  form  of  a  little  babe,  carried  in  the 
arm  of  a  sweet  maiden,  smiling  and  ex- 
tending towards  us  from  that  throne  of 
His  love,  the  hand  of  reconciliation  and 
of  boundless  charity ;  then  we  come  and 
forget  our  fears,  while  we  recognize  our 
own  flesh,  our  own  little  Brother  on  the 


210 


AVE     MARIA 


breast  of  Ilis  beloved  mother,  of  whom  He 
He  will  soon  tell  us  all :  Behold  your  mother. 

In  this  same  flesh  of  ours,  Jesus  will 
make  Himself  successively  an  example  to 
all  ages  and  conditions.  In  this  flesh  He 
will  practice  virtues  which  otherwise  He 
could  never  have  practiced  ;  in  this  flesh 
He  will  render  His  eternal  Father  infinite 
honor,  perfectly  worthy  of  Him,  and 
which  He  had  never  received. 

The  Annunciation  appears  to  us  as  the 
espousals  of  the  eternal  Word  and  our 
human  nature.  In  the  espousals  among 
the  children  of  men,  as  St.  Thomas  ob- 
serves, the  consent  of  the  betrothed  mai- 
den is  required,  as  well  as  the  consent  of 
the  spouse.  Who  can,  who  will,  give  this 
consent  in  behalf  of  our  humanity?  The 
woman,  the  virgin  in  whose  chaste  Avomb 
the  mystery  is  accomplished.  The  ambas- 
sador comes  down  from  the  high  heavens 
to  the  humble  cottage  of  Nazareth  ;  in  the 
name  of  his  divine  Master,  he  makes  the 
proposition  to  the  lowly  virgin  ;  he  awaits 
her  reply.  Heaven  and  earth  are  held  in 
suspense ;  the  momentous  message  re- 
mains unaccomplished  until  Mary  shall 
have  expressed  her  consent  and  pro- 
nounced the  Jiat  by  which  the  great 
scheme  is  secured,  and  the  salvation  of 
the  world  made  safe. 

Of  this  mysterious  union  of  the  human 
nature  with  the  divine,  a  countless  multi- 
tude of  spiritual  children  will  be  born.  As 
in  the  natural  order,  the  children  of  a 
supernatural  order  must  have  a  Father 
and  a  Mother.  Who  will  be  the  parents 
of  the  sons  of  grace?  Where  is  our 
Father?  where  is  our  mother?  This  same 
Jesus  whose  Incarnation  is  heralded  in 
the  feast  of  the  Annunciation,  will  tell  us 
with  an  unerring  authority:  When  you 
pray,  you  will  pray  thus :  "  Our  Father 
who  art  in  heaven."  Here  is  our  Father, 
Jesus'  own  eternal  Father.  A  little  later 
He  will  likewise  point  out,  present  to  us,  a 
mother,  namely,  the  same  of  whom  He  Him- 
self was  born,  that  He  might  be  the  first 
one  among  many  brothers.  After  giving 
His  Father  in  heaven  for  our  Father,  He 
now  gives  us  IJia  own  i^other  on  earth  for 


our  mother  also:  Woman,  behold  thy 
son  ;  and  turning  to  St.  John,  or  in  St. 
John's  person  to  each  of  us,  He  said : 
Behold  thy  mother.  Oh  !  Blessed  Lord, 
how  truly  the  word  has  been  fulfilled, 
tiiat  He  would  not  leave  us  orphans — 
non  relinquam  vos  orphanos. 

In  the  Annunciation,  considered  with 
the  eyes  of  faith,  we  behold  the  great  and 
luminous  outlines  of  our  glorious  destin- 
ies. We  know  now  what  noble  blood 
runs  through  our  veins.  May  we  never 
degenerate,  but  honor  our  Father  and  our 
mother,  that  we  may  obtain  the  rich  in- 
heritance to  which  they  invite  us.  Let 
us  enter  upon  our  subject. 

St.  Thomas,  commenting  on  the  Gospel 
of  St.  Luke  and  examining  the  order  fol- 
lowed up  by  the  archangel  in  the  annun- 
ciation, points  out  three  things  distinct 
from  each  other. 

First :  the  angel  draws  the  holy  Virgin's 
attention  to  the  great  mystery  he  had  charge 
to  reveal.  In  this  he  succeeded  by  salut- 
ing her  in  a  manner  hitherto  unheard  of; 
no  man  had  ever  heard  such  words  from 
any  angel  before. 

Secondly :  the  archangel  intended  to 
inform  Mary  of  the  mystery  about  to  be 
accomplished  in  her  womb— "  Behold  thou 
shalt  conceive  and  bring  forth  a  Son,"  etc. ; 
a  magnificent  prophecy  which  contains 
all  the  history  of  Christ  Jesus  and  of 
Christianity.  To  this,  he  immediately 
adds  the  manner  in  which  it  will  be  done: 
"  And  behold  the  Holy  Ghost,"  etc. 

Thirdly :  the  heavenly  ambassador  was 
sent  to  obtain  Mary's  consent.  This 
seems  to  have  been  the  main  object  of  his 
mission.  He  obtains  it  by  assuring  the 
Blessed  Virgin  that  her  virginity  is  in  no 
danger ;  that  the  same  God  who  has 
worked  a  miracle  in  behalf  of  her  cousin, 
St.  Elizabeth,  who  though  in  advanced 
years  has  conceived  a  son,  will  operate  a 
greater  wonder  in  her  own  favor,  and  that 
the  Holy  Ghost  will  come  upon  her,  and 
that  the  virtue  of  the  Most  High  shall 
overshadow  her,  etc.,  and  that  the  Son 
who  will  be  born  of  her,  shall  be  called 
the  Holy  One,  et  Sanctum  vocabitur. 


AVE      MARIA 


211 


This  great  event  took  place  about  four 
thousand  years  from  the  creation  of  the 
world,  oh  in  the  words  of  the  sacred  writers, 
"  In  tlu*  fulness  of  time." 

It  is  the  centre  of  history,  the  expira- 
tion of  the  promises,  the  beginning  of  a 
new  chronology,  the  first  day  of  the  great 
months. 

Incipient  nuigni  procedere  menses — the 
final  age,  and  the  dawn  of  the  ages  of 
grace  spoken  of  by  the  Roman  poet : 

Ultima  cunue  renit  Jtim  cnrminis  wtas 
Magnus  ab  integro  siedoruni  nuscitur  ordo. 

Tradition,  says  Suarez  after  the  Fathers, 
tells  us  that  the  messenger  of  God  came 
to  Mary  on  the  25th  of  March,  the  same 
day  Adam  had  been  created. 

The  hour  of  his  arrival  is  uncertain,  and 
on  account  of  this  uncertainty  the  Angelic 
Salutation  is  repeated  at  morn,  at  noon, 
and  at  the  fall  of  the  day,  not  to  fail  to 
honor  that  moment,  solemn  among  all  mo- 
ments. However,  it  seems  probable  that 
the  heavenly  message  was  delivered  a  lit- 
tle after  midnight,  at  the  same  hour  our 
Blessed  Lord  was  born  in  the  stable,  nine 
months  after  His  holy  conception. 

It  is  likely  that  the  holy  Virgin  was 
wont  to  spend  most  of  her  nights  in  heav- 
enly contemplation;  the  night  with  its 
silence  and  rest  of  nature  best  suited  the 
fulfilment  of  the  mystery.  Behold  Ga- 
briel, unfolding  his  golden  wings,  darts 
from  the  foot  of  the  throne  of  the  Most 
High  God.  Contrarily  to  the  order  of 
hierarchical  transmission  from  higher  to 
lower  degrees,  Gabriel  receives  his  mis- 
sion directly  from  God,  and  with  it  two 
marvellous  secrets:  the  first  His  love  for 
mankind,  to  whom  He  sends  His  only  Son; 
the  second  His  greater  love  for  Mary, 
through  whom  this  only  Son  is  to  be  given 
to  mankind.  The  messenger  is  gone.  In 
what  direction  has  he  taken  his  rapid 
flight?  Towards  Home,  the  great  city, 
now  the  mistress  of  the  world?  or  will 
he  alight  upon  Athens,  the  queen  of  seir 
ence,  of  arts,  and  eloquence?  or  rather 
will  he  not  choose  in  preference  %o  all 
others,  Jerusalem,  the  sacrod  city,  so  justly 


proud  of  her  august  Sion,  of  her  wonderful 
temple,  of  her  sacred  ark?  Why  do  wo 
wander  thus?  The  Archangel  has  already 
swiftly  descended  into  Xaziireth,  a  little 
town  of  Galilee,  where  he  has  made  out 
a  small,  unpretending  cottage,  the  resi- 
dence of  a  modest  Virgin  espoused  to  a 
carpenter. 

There  the  messenger  of  God  has  met 
with  Mary,  rapt  in  fervent  prayer,  and 
hastening  by  her  ardent  desires  the  com- 
ing of  the  Messiah.  Hail,  blessed  house,  in 
which  an  angel  and  a  virgin  meet  to 
treat  of  the  salvation  of  mankind  !  Bles- 
sed walls,  to  which  it  was  given  to  listen 
to  the  wondrous  colloquy,  hail!  It  has 
been  given  us  once  to  kneel  on  the  sacred 
spot  where  the  august  Virgin  stood  and 
heard  the  marvellous  salutation:  to  move  in 
the  hallowed  precincts  within  which  the 
Blessed  Mother  and  the  Divine  Saviour 
Himself  moved  for  so  many  years;  and 
even  now,  whenever  we  remember  the  de- 
light that  filled  our  soul  in  that  most  ven- 
erable sanctuary,  we  fancy  we  see  the  por- 
tal of  Heaven  npon  earth.  Should  onr 
years  be  protracted  beyond  our  expecta- 
tions, never  shall  we  forget  to  thank  God 
for  this  priceless  favor  of  entering  the 
Santa  Casa,  and  there  offering  the  Holy 
Sacrifice,  after  the  apostles  and  so  many 
saints. 

We  learn  from  tradition  that  this  holy 
House  was  surrounded  with  profound  re- 
spect by  the  apostles  and  the  first  chris- 
tians ;  it  was  the  first  sanctuary  in  the 
new  dispensation,  and  in  this  its  destina- 
tion was  not  changed,  for  it  had  been  al- 
ready sanctified  by  various  mysteries.  It 
had  been  the  silent  witness  of  the  tears 
and  virtues  of  the  blessed  Joachim  and 
Anna,  of  the  Immaculate  Conception  and 
Nativity  of  the  Holy  Virgin  ;  then  a  little 
later  came  upon  it  a  new  consecration, 
that  of  the  divine  conception  of  the  eter- 
nal Word,  which  more  than  anything  else 
made  it  an  object  of  exceptional  venera- 
tion for  all  ages  to  come. 

To  this  day  the  Santa  Casa  remains  as 
venerable  and  venerated  as  ever.  Where 
it  has  stood  for  more  than  six  centuries 


212 


AVE     MARIA. 


thousands  and  thousands  of  the  most  fer- 
vent pilgrims  have  visited  it  to  repeat 
under  its  blessed  roof  the  Ave  Maria  with 
which  the  Holy  Virgin  was  greeted  by  the 
Archangel. 

Preaching  here  in  Paris,  a  short  time 
ago,  a  celebrated  orator  gave  utterance,  in 
the  following  words,  to  his  sentiments  of 
veneration  towards  the  Holy  House  of  Lo- 
retto :  "  This  house,  carried  over  by  the 
angels  to  the  Adriatic  shores ;  this  poor 
cottage,  richer,  however,  in  the  eyes  of 
faith  than  the  temple  of  Solomon,  than  all 
the  palaces  of  the  kings,  has  been  visited 
for  six  thousand  years  by  the  greatest 
saints  the  catholic  Church  has  produced. 
St.  Philip  of  Neri,  St.  Ignatius,  St.  Charles 
Borromeo,  St.  Francis  of  Sales,  St.  Vincent 
of  Paul,  St.  Liguori,  etc.,  etc.,  went  thither 
to  meditate  within  the  walls  which  shel- 
tered for  thirty  years  Jesus  Christ  and  His 
divine  Mother,  the  great  mystery  of  the 
eternal  charity.  Where  shall  we  find  in- 
spirations like  those  hidden  by  each  stone 
of  the  Holy  House?  Ah!  those  blessed 
stones ;  how  was  it  possible  they  did  not 
melt  in  astonishment  under  the  touch  of 
the  hand  of  the  divine  Child,  and  when 
they  had  the  glory  of  protecting  the  exist- 
ence of  His  divine  Mother?" 

In  one  end  of  the  sacred  edifice  stands 
an  altar,  over  which  is  written  the  follow- 
ing words,  which  no  one  pronounces  but  on 
his  knees :  "  JEJ6  Verhuni  caro  factum  est,  et 
habitavit  in  nobis, — And  the  Word  was 
made  flesh,  and  dwelt  among  us." 

Above  the  four  doors,  outside,  we  read 
these  four  couplets,  equally  expressive  of 
the  same  idea,  the  holiness  of  the  sanc- 
tuary : 

Iltetus  timeat  quicumque  intrare  saccllum ; 
In  terris  nullum  sanctius  orbia  habct. 

Sanctior  hsec  sedes  quid  ni  sacra  Principe  Petro, 
Verbum-  ubi  conceptum,  nataquc  Virgo  Parens. 

NuUus  in  orbe  locus  prselucot  s.nnctior  isto, 
Quaque  cadit  Titan,  quaque  resurgit  aquis. 

Templa-alibi  posuere  patres,  sed  sanctius  istud 
AngcliciE  hie  turmaj,  Virgo  Deusque  locant. 

We  have  scarcely  said  anything  of  what 
we  had   intended  on  the  mystery  of  the 


Annunciation,  and  yet  we  have  been  al- 
ready too  long.  We  shall  soon  continue 
the  same  subject  in  a  subsequent  number. 


Tbe  Bridal-day  of  the  Angels'  Qoeea. 

FOR  THEANXTNCIATION. 

Some  eighteen  hundred  and  some  seventy  years 

Have  passed  since  then.  There  was  a  stir  in  Heaven  : 

A  great  commotion  'mid  the  angelic  choirs, 

A  thrill,  sensation,  of  unwonted  power: 

Sounds  musical  rang  through  the  listening  spheres, 

And  when  they  struck  each  other  as  they  met 

The  harmonies  were  of  a  fuller  swell, 

Deeper  of  meaning  than  the  usual  tones. 

"Wisdom  of  God"  re-echoed  throughout  space, 

And  "Power  of  God"  resounded  'mid  the  stars, 

"Manifestation  of  the  Eternal  Word" 

Hung  on  the  sunbeams,  traced  in  living  light, 

Its  characters  so  clearly,  firmly  writ 

That  every  spirit  bowed  expectant  there, 

As  watcliing  for  a  sign  of  God's  high  wilL 

Then  spirit  turned  to  spirit,  questioning: 
Angel  met  angel,  and  with  lower  bow 
Saluted  than  of  wont ;  for  a  deep  awe 
Pervaded  all  the  hosts  of  heaven's  va.st  space. 
"The  hour  is  come,"  rang  in  sweet  music  out: 
None  saw  the  minstrel,  yet  those  thrilling  tones 
Filled  every  son  of  light  with  rapturous  bliss, 
Albeit  minor  spirits  felt  the  thrill 
Nor  fully  understood  its  import  high. 

"'The  hour  is  come!' — what  hour?"  they  eagerask, 
Those  minor  angels  of  the  seraphs  high ; 
"O  tell  the  scones  that  once,  that  long  ago 
Ere  these  bright  worlds  were  formed,  took  place  in 

heaven. 
When  first  this  prophecy  was  heard  in  space." 
Zephon  it  was  enquired  of  Ab<liel, 
The  steadfast  one,  so  much  revered  on  high, 
While  groups  of  minor  angels  stand  around. 
"Gabriel  is  coming,"  answered  Abdiel, 
"That  prince  of  guardians  to  the  human  race; — 
He  is  to-day  a  lierald  high,  from  God, 
He  bears  to  earth  a  message  unto  one 
He  tends  with  reverence  so  deep,  so  true, 
He  names  her  as  the  future  Queen  of  Heaven." 

"Is  slie  not  mortal  then?  of  Adam's  race?" 
Asked  Zi'phon,  eager  for  the  news  he  sought. 
"  Ay,  mortal  and  of  Adam's  fallen  rjice ! 
But  yet  not  fallen.    She,  the  second  Eve, 
Create  in  grace  has  still  preserved  that  grace, 
Is  sinless  as  was  Eve  before  the  fall. 


AVE      MARIA 


213 


And  pure  with  radteaoe  pnrifled,  by  Ood 
Made  stronger,  higher,  far  more  virtuoua 
Than  e'er  was  Eve.    Yet  is  her  beauty  mild ! 
Retiring  from  the  view  of  men,  she  dwells 
And  prays  expectant  of  the  Promised  One 
Who  is  to  save  her  race." 

"  But,  Queen  of  Heaven  I 
How  is  she  Queen  who  is  of  mortal  niceT 
ITow  can  she  rule  the  liigh  intelligence 
Of  spirit  form?  Can  matter  rise  above 
And  mind  control* — it  is  impossible!" 

Then  Abdiel  smiled :   "  Again  that  question  asked ! 
Which  once  o'erthrew  the  highest  sons  of  light? 
Dost  not  remember  then  how,  long  ago, 
When  first  w^e  met  existence  young  and  bright, 
And  stood  enraptured  gazing  on  the  mass 
Of  atoms  newly  springing  into  space, 
Material  reflex  of  intelligence ! 
How  we  stood  by,  as  brilliant  sparks  of  light 
Emitted  flashes,  kindling  action  tlicre 
In  that  chaotic,  huge,  and  shapeless  mass? 
How  some  mysterious,  some  attractive  spell 
Then  worked  among  the  atoms  till  they  clung 
Together,  forming  orbs  of  glittering  light 
Throughout  the  viewless  void,  until  the  arch 
Was  canopied  with  bright  and  glorious  stars, 
The  index  of  the  majesty  of  God? 

0  how  the  hallelujahs  rang  through  space. 
As  matter  put  tliat  form  of  glory  on ! 
And  every  orb,  by  secret  known  to  Him 
And  Him  alone  who  called  that  matter  forth. 
Went  on  its  way,  as  though  intelligent: 
Myriads  of  spheres,  from  that  chaotic  mass 
Shaped  into  form,  now  whirled  themselves  In  space, 
Nor  jarred  nor  jostled  in  th'  appointed  bounds. 
*Twas  wondrous.    Matter  heedful  of  His  will, 
Although  insensate !  wonder  seized  us  all. 

And  we  applauded  in  high  hymns  of  praise." 

"  I  do  remember :  yet  I  sec  not  how 

That  talc  afiects  tliis  hour;"  so  Zephon  said. 

"Just  this,"  said  Abdiel ;  "it  was  rumored  then 
That  Gk>d's  high  Son  should  in  some  age  to  come 
Invest  Himself  in  some  material  form. 
Bring  it  to  c6nscious  and  to  righteous  rule. 
Then  lay  the  oflfcrlng  at  His  Father's  feet." 

"  Ay,  ay,  and  Lucifer,  the  Seraph  high 
Among  the  highest,  heard  the  mystic  sound  ; 

1  do  remember:  it  was  rumored  tlien 
That  every  power,  and  all  intelligence — 
Matter  and  spirit — Seraph  high,  and  dust 
With  life  invested,  in  that  tinal  day 

Should  bow  to  Him  who  thus  had  conquered  all." 

"  My  Zephon,  yes,"  said  Abdiel  cheeringly. 
"  It  was  to  prove  the  angels  this  was  sung : 


Our  highest  Seraph  then  wm  Lucifer, 

'  Light-bringer,'  as  we  termed  him ;  for  so  keen, 

So  piercing  his  intelligence,  it  seemed 

To  cast  a  liglit  on  all  who  nenred  his  sphere. 

His  pride  was  roused  when  first  the  high  decree 

Was  read  beneath  tl»e  glowing  throne  of  light 

Where  we  were  wont  to  worship ;  first  he  thought 

Himself  that  Son  of  God  there  then  foretold; 

He  nursetl  the  fancy  in  ambitious  dreams, 

And  tliough  still  gracious  to  us  lesser  lights 

He  seemed  to  seek  for  homage  as  his  due. 

But  soon,  I  know  not  how,  he  felt  the  truth 

That  nut  for  him  reserved  so  high  a  l>oon ; 

He  penetrated  the  all  high  decree 

That  'twas  reserved  for  the  great  power  of  God, 

Thus  to  exali  Himself  o'er  all  create. 

His  daring  dreams  of  pride  were  then  dissolved; 

His  ire  awakened,  and  his  swelling  sense 

Of  dignity  forbade  him  to  submit. 

He  sullenly  withdrew  at  hour  of  prayer, 

And  flattering  those  who  followed  him  with  words 

Of  pride,  and  promises  of  power, 

He  swore  that  never  to  material  form 

Would  he,  a  high  Intelligence,  bow  down. 

Superior  he  to  all  in  spirit-life 

He  claimed  to  be ;  so  would  he  reign  in  Heaven." 

"Ay,"  faltered  Zephon,  "  and  he  felL 
I  never  shall  forget  the  dreary  hour 
When  he  and  legions  of  our  brightest  lights 
Assembled  to  resist  God's  ordinance. 
Their  fall  was  terrible !  But  how,  to-day. 
Does  it  affect  this  joyous  festival?" 

"  To-day,"  said  Abdiel,  "  is  the  appointed  time 
For  the  fulfilment  of  that  prophecy; — 
To-day  the  eternal  Word,  wisdom  of  God, 
Descends  to  lowly  earth ;  the  power  of  God 
Takes  flesh  within  a  virgin's  chastest  womb." 

"A  virgin's  womb?    Is  she  of  Adam's  rsce, 
Who  fell  so  soon  a  prey  to  Lucifer? 
Who  grace  rejected,  and  who  was  condemned 
To  eat  the  ftruits  which  that  rejection  brought  ?" 

"  Of  that  same  race.     She  is  the  promised  one 
Create  anew  in  £racc  to  heal  that  fault. 
Mary  is  beautiful  beyond  her  race ; 
Fairer  than  Eve,  and  faithful  still  to  grace." 

"  But  yet  she  is  of  dust.    How  can  she  claim 
To  reign  above,  Queen  of  the  angel  choirs  ? 
Methluks  such  claim  unsultcd  to  her  state: 
A  child  of  earth,  condemned  to  die  for  sin  I" 

"  Mary's  humility  makes  no  claim," 
Responded  Abdiel  to  the  angel's  words; 
"  Mary  awaiteth  but  the  will  of  God, 
Retired  fhim  men  in  fervency  of  prayer. 


214r 


AVE     MARIA 


But  Ood  prepared  unconscious  to  herself 

Her  soul  in  purity ;  He  will  deeceml 

And  clothe  llinist'lf  in  flesli  from  her  pure  wombJ 

Angels  will  bow  before  th'  Incarnate  King, 

And  hail  her  blest  wlio  Mother  is  of  God, 

But  hark !  the  dulcet  sounds  of  Gabriel's  band ! 

He  is  approaching.    Angels  far  and  near 

Are  gathering  to  reverence  the  maid 

Whom  God  selects  as  Mother  of  His  Son." 


E'en  as  they  spake — the  thousand,  thousand  lamps 
Of  sapphire,  ruby,  amethyst,  and  pearl, 
Of  emerald,  topaz  and  of  diamond, 
"Were  lit  "with  lustres  of  a  million  hues, 
And  glowed  with  beauty  kindling  holy  love, 
Awaking  sympathies,  intoning  sounds. 
Impenetrating  all  intelligence, 
Explaining  will  of  God  to  angel  sense; — 
All  bowed  ecstatic,  w^orshipping  in  bliss. 

Then  Gabriel  having  worshipped,  reverent  rose, 
A  lily  pure  in  radiant  whiteness  took. 
And  followed  by  the  countless  myriads  there 
Winged  his  bright  way  to  earth.    'Twas  twilight's 

hour ; 
And  as  he  sped  through  regions  all  unseen. 
Men  asked  why  twilight  was  so  beiiutiful. 
They  passed  the  air,  and  sparkles  rose  and  fell 
From  the  bright  pinions  of  that  Seraph  throng 
Till  stars  seem  dancing  to  the  eye  of  earth. 
Then  Gabriel  paused  in  Nazareth's  small  town : 
He  entered  in  a  humble  tenement. 
While, — forming  glorious  circle  'neath  the  skies, — 
The  listening  angels  stood  absorbed  in  bliss, 
Entranced  in  harmony,  as  Mary  rose 
For  courtesy  to  list  to  Gabriel's  "  Hail !" 

Soft  were  the  accents  of  the  messenger, 

Yet  was  the  Virgin  troubled  in  her  soul. 

"  Hail,  full  of  grace !  The  Lord  is  with  thee  1  Hail  I 

Blest  among  women  thou !" 

No  vanity 
Flushed  for  a  moment's  space  that  virgin  cheek, 
No  pride  was  roused,  but  fear,  lest  now  to  her 
As  first  to  Eve,  deceiving  words  these  prove ; 
She  paused,  unconscious  that  th'  admiring  host 
Of  heav'n's  high  thrones  now  all  enraptured  stood 
Viewing  her  modesty  and  loveliness. 

Then  Gabriel  spake :  "  O  Mary,  fear  thou  not : 
Grace  hast  thou  found  with  God.    The  Holy  One 
Shalt  thou  conceive  within  thy  virgin  womb ; 
Thou  Shalt  bring  forth  the  Saviour,  Jesus  named; 
Great  shall  He  be!    The  Son  of  the  Most  High, 
And  unto  Him  the  Lord  His  God  shall  give 
The  throne  of  David.    And  in  Jacob's  house 
He  shall  forever  reign, — reign  without  end," 


Then  Mary,  radisint  in  her  loveliness. 

Yet  ever  mindful  of  that  solemn  vow 

Which  bound  her  heart  to  be  but  God's  alone, 

Simply  replied :  "  But  how  shall  these  things  be, 

Seeing  I  know  not  man?" 

St.  Gabriel  then  in  reverence  answers  her : 

"The  Holy  Spirit  shall  descend  onr  thee ; 

The  power  of  God  sliall  overshadow  thee : 

Therefore  the  Holy  that  of  thee  is  born 

Will  be,  and  shall  be  called,  tlie  Son  of  God. 

Thy  cousin,  too,  Elizabeth,  tliy  friend. 

She,  too,  in  her  old  age  a  son  conceives ; 

And  this  is  now  the  sixth  month  gone  with  her 

Whom  men  term  barren :  for  no  word  with  God 

Shall  be  impossible."    Then  Mary  said  . 

"  Behold,  I  am  the  handmaid  of  the  Lord ; 

Be  it  done  to  me  as  thy  word  aaserts." 

St.  Gabriel  bowed  and  left ;  and  straight  intoned 
That  heavenly  host  a  hymn  of  sweetness  there; — 
A  hymn  so  glorious  earth  ne'er  heard  before, 
Nor  highest  Heaven.    'Twas  a  nuptial  song 
Which  seraphs  siing,  as  to  that  purest  form 
A  lambent  flame  electric  shot  from  heaven 
While  angels  closed  their  pinions  as  it  passed. 
Veiling  their  faces  in  deep  reverence. 
Then  sounds  so  sweet,  so  thrilling,  filled  all  spmce 
Above  the  sun,  encircling  the  bright  stars 
Around  the  moon,  and  though  unheard  by  men 
They  floated  o'er  the  atmosphere  of  earth. 
They  sang  the  bridal  of  the  Angels'  Queen ; 
Rejoicing  thus  to  hail  th'  Incarnate  God, 
Deeming  the  Virgin  Mother  blest  indeed. 
"  Mother  of  God !"  The  words  rang  through  the. 

spheres; 
And  angels  hovered  reverent  round  her  form, 
Wishing  the  hour  were  come  to  bear  her  hence 
And  place  her  on  the  throne  prepared  in  heaven. 
The  seraphs  tuned  their  lyres  to  sing  her  praise ; 
The  rapturous  echoes  caught  the  words  of  love : 
But  Mary  sat  entranced:  "The  hour  is  come!" 
Mother  of  Qod !  'twas  true !  unsi)eakable ! 
The  ecstasy  that  now  absorbed  her  soul 
Shut  out  all  sound ;  the  angels  were  unheard : 
God  was  with  Mary !  Mary  was  with  God ! 

M.  A.  S. 


Receipts  for  Defence  of  the  Pope. 

Amount  on  hand— from  No.  9..  ..$  382  06 
0'Donnell& Barrett, St.Loui8,Mo  5  00 
A  friend,  Millbury,  Mass 5  00 

Total  amount  on  hand $    392  06 

Ara't  remitted  up  to  Oct.  5,  1868.  1,343  00 

Total Iil,735  06 


AVE      MARIA. 


216 


TOE  RO>IARf  CATACOMBS, 
And  their  Connection  witli  Catholic  Do^ma. 

FROM  TUB  OERMAK  OP  REV.   U.   WOLTEH,  BY  REV. 
J.  A.   BERORATH. 

"  Scd  tu  qui  legis,  era  pro  me  et  (h)ttbea8  Domi- 
nuin  protectorem." — Catacombs  qf  PoiUumua. 

II. 

We  have  already  given  an  outline  of  the 
historic  significance  of  the  catacombs;  let 
us  now  proceed  to  describe  them,  at  least 
in  a  measure.  These  subterranean  ceme- 
teries of  Rome — known  by  the  name  of 
catacombs  only  since  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury— are  exclusively  of  christian  origin. 
They  extend  like  a  girdle  around  the  walls 
of  Rome,  and  are  situated  between  the 
first  and  third  milestones,  forming  an  im- 
mense, awe-inspiring,  and  hallowed  city  of 
the  dead.  Having  been  located  on  the 
lands  of  noble  christian  f^imilies,  they  en- 
joyed, especially  during  the  first  two  cen,- 
turies,  the  protection  of  the  Roman  law 
according  to  which  "religious  places" 
were  declared  inviolable.  In  order  to  dis- 
tinguish them,  one  from  the  other,  these 
places  were  either  called  after  the  christian 
owners,  or  else  after  some  distinguished 
martyr  that  lay  buried  within  their  walls. 
Corresponding  with  the  numbers  of  titles 
or  parishes  within  the  city,  there  are 
twenty-six  of  these  catacombs ;  or  rather, 
if  we  count  the  minor  ones  and  those  of 
a  post-Constantinian  date,  there  are  forty 
in  all,  each  forming  a  separate  network  of 
subterranean  passages  regularly  and  per- 
pendicularly cut  through  the  volcanic 
mass — a  species  of  granulated  tufa — cross- 
ing and  recrossing  each  other  in  a  thousand 
diflfcrent  ways,  and  generally  construct 
ed  so  as  to  form  two  sets  or  stories  one 
above  the  other,  while  in  several  instances 
there  are  even  five  of  these  stories  sur- 
mounting each  other.  The  passages  or 
streets — more  commonly  known  as  galler- 
ies— have  their  walls  on  both  sides  filled 
from  floor  to  ceiling  with  horizontal  in- 


cisions or  niches.  These  are  the  so-called 
loculi  or  graves  in  which,  very  much  like 
the  jjassengers  on  board  a  ship,  the  chris- 
tian dead  are  sleeping  their  last  sleep, 
oflentimes  as  many  as  fourteen  one  above 
the  other  without  distinction  of  rank,  age 
or  sex.  Every  inch  of  the  niches,  every 
foot  of  the  wall,  seems  husbanded  in  the 
most  careful  manner,  while  each  of  the 
sainted  sleepers,  no  matter  whether  it  was 
but  a  child  or  a  person  of  advanced  years, 
has  been  laid  to  rest  in  "  his  own  grave  that 
tpas  excavated  in  the  rock,  and  in  which  no 
one  had  previously  been  deposited.'''*  The 
galleries,  although  attaining  a  height  of 
from  seven  to  fifteen  feet,  are  so  narrow 
that  in  many  places  only  one  person  can 
pass  through  them  at  a  time,  while  they 
are  at  the  same  time  so  long,  that,  if  all  the 
galleries  were  strung  together,  they  would 
exceed  in  length  a  street  of  a  thousand  miles , 
and  to  traverse  them  would  require  the 
passing  of  from  four  to  six  millions  of 
graves.  The  work  of  excavating  all  of 
these  mortuary  halls,  with  their  graves  and 
chapels,  was  attended  to  by  a  guild  or  con- 
fraternity of  men  who  were  cnWedfossoreSf 
or  "excavators,"  and  who  received  a  spe- 
cies of  ecclesiastical  consecration  or  bless- 
ing to  enable  them  to  comply  with  the  self- 
sacrificing  duties  of  their  station, 
in. 
Having  thus  in  a  few  words  described 
these  strange  places,  let  us  now  examine 
what  was  the  object  for  which  the  cata- 
combs were  laid  out.  The  original  pur- 
pose for  which  they  were  destined  appears, 
at  once,  from  the  name  of  "  coemeterium  " 
(cemetery  or  burial-ground)  by  which  they 
were  designated  during  the  early  christian 
centuries.  They  served  as  repositories 
for  those  christians  who  had  departed  this 
life,  and  whose  bodies,  as  members  of 
Christ  and  temples  of  God,  the  survivors 
Avere  neither  willing  to  burn  according  to 
the  custom  of  the  day,  nor  to  expose  to 
the  desecration  of  the  outside  heathen 
world.  On  the  contrary,  the  bodies  of  all 
such  were  carefully  laid  away  in  blessed 
ground,  as  a  most  precious  seed  that  was 
predestined   to  arise   most  gloriously  on 


216 


AVE      MARIA 


Bome  future  day,  or  rather,  these  precious 
relics  were  looked  upon  by  the  ancient 
christians  as  ho'ing  *^  deposited ''^  in  these 
sacred  places,  just  as  a  prudent  man  is 
wont  to  deposit  some  valuable  pledge  in 
a  place  of  unusual  safety.  In  the  eyes  of 
those  early  christians  their  dead  were  not 
dead  but  only  sleeping,  and  hence  they 
looked  upon  their  burial  pl.aces  not  as 
houses  of  death  but  rather  as  *^  dormito- 
ries "  where  the  sleepers  were  at  rest  after 
their  long  and  weary  day's  toil,  and 
whence  they  would  arise  again  as  soon  as 
the  morning  would  dawn  and  the  trumpet 
sound  the  signal  for  the  resurrection.  Let 
us  go  for  a  moment  into  one  of  these 
sacred  places.  A  team  of  two  horses  or 
mules,  laden  with  a  barrel,  has  just  entered 
the  dark  opening  of  an  exhausted  sand-pit 
or  arenaria.  It  is  the  hearse  which  the 
christians  of  that  day  were  obliged  to  use 
in  consequence  of  the  fearful  persecutions 
then  raging  against  them.  The  fossores, 
clad  in  a  peculiar  attire  of  their  own, 
already  stand  in  wait  for  the  conveyance, 
from  which  they  lift  the  corpse  with  trem- 
bling hands.  In  this  particular  case,  the 
corpse  has  not — as  was  sometimes  neces- 
sary— ^been  hidden  away  for  a  long  time, 
wrapped  up  in  lime ; — it  has  been  taken 
fresh  from  the  bloody  place  of  execution, 
and  is  now  brought  like  a  precious  prize 
to  be  deposited  for  safekeeping  within 
those  sacred  halls.  With  his  lamp  in 
hand,  an  aged  fossor  leads  the  way  for  the 
pall-bearers  that  follow.  Slowly  they  march 
thus  towards  a  corner  of  the  sand-pit, 
whence  they  descend  by  a  secret  flight  of 
steps  to  the  christian  city  of  the  dead  be- 
low. Having  arrived  there,  the  body  of 
the  holy  martyr  is  solemnly  received  by 
the  bishop  and  faithful  present,  Avhereupon 
the  funeral  procession  is  formed  and  set 
in  motion  without  delay.  Through  the 
erst  silent  halls  there  resounds  now,  gen- 
tly, like  harmonies  of  the  blessed,  the 
psalmody  of  the  mourners,  until  it  loses 
itself  mysteriously  in  some  far-distant  gal- 
lery. The  lights  borne  in  the  hands  of  the 
pious  attendants  seem  for  the  moment  to 
ignite  thousands  of  glittering  stars  along 


the  walls  of  red  tufa  which  they  are  pass- 
ing along  their  way,  while  the  graves  of 
earlier  martyrs  extend  along  their  course 
in  endless  numbers  and  seem  to  form  with 
their  peaceful  inhabitants  something  like  a 
guard  of  honor  for  the  remains  of  the  new 
citizen  of  heaven  who  is  being  added  to 
their  number.  The  yellow  bricks  and 
white  slabs  of  marble  that  close  the  graves 
of  the  departed  brighten  up  while  the 
torch-light  procession  is  passing,  and  seem 
almost  as  if  they  were  "  plates  of  gold 
and  silver  encompassed  by  a  frame  of  red 
damask."  Nay,  they  even  seem  to  become 
endowed  with  a  species  of  life  for  the  oc- 
casion. They  seem  aglow  like  so  many 
thousands  of  transparencies,  and  hundreds 
of  touching  inscriptions,  or  of  deeply  sug- 
gestive symbols,  rudely  engraven  tnere  by 
the  artless  hands  of  the  fossores,  proclaim 
aloud  the  glad  tidings  of  heavenly  peace, 
of  childlike  hope  and  calm  expectation, 
thus  forming,  as  it  were,  a  most  fitting  set 
of  responses  to  the  psalms  of  praise  that 
are  sung  by  the  passing  funeral  procession. 
And  round  about  these  tablets  firmly  se- 
cured in  the  grayish  mortar  there  are  seen 
marks  and  mementos  of  loving  remem- 
brance, encircling  them  like  a  wreath  of 
unfading  flowers.  Here  we  behold  some 
glittering  coin,  a  shell  or  a  cameo;  there  a 
sparkling  gem  or  a  piece  of  glass,  set  oflf, 
around  the  edges,  with  tinfoil  or  goldleaf. 
In  other  places,  again,  we  behold  the  slab 
that  encloses  the  tomb  decorated  round 
about  with  seals  bearing  christian  devices, 
and  shaped  like  the  sole  of  the  human  foot; 
and  if  the  grave  be  that  of  a  martyr,  our  at- 
tention is  attracted  by  the  most  precious 
of  all  jewels,  a  phial  of  glass,  earth,  or 
onyx,  containing  the  blood  of  the  happy 
sleeper  who  shed  it  for  the  cause  of  Christ. 
Not  unfrequently,  there  stands  side  by 
side  with  these  phials  a  burning  light,  that 
is  niaintained,  constantly,  by  some  pious 
supplicant  at  that  particular  shrine.  Our 
funeral  procession  has  now  already  passed 
through  many  a  gallery  on  its  way.  As 
often  as  they  diverge  from  their  iroute,  and 
lead  into  a  new  passage,  they  are  saluted 
by  the  soft  shimmer  of  a  small  lamp,  which. 


AVE     MARIA. 


217 


stationed  at  the  entrance,  in  a  small  niche, 
seems  to  act  as  a  silent  guard  at  its  post. 
These  lamps  arc  all  either  provided  with 
suitable  emblems,  or  else  their  very  shape 
is  emblematic,  since  they  resemble  now  a 
dove,  then  again  a  fish  or  lark  whose  tiny 
flicker  of  light  joyfully  mingles  with  the 
brighter  sheen  of  the  candles  and  torches 
that  are  borne  in  the  hands  of  the  pious 
pilgrims.  At  last  the  procession  has 
reached  the  grave.  This  time  it  is  not  a 
simple  niche  in  the  wall  of  those  immense 
streets  of  the  dead.  In  honor  of  the  mar- 
tyr whose  remains  are  to  be  intombed,  the 
fossores  have  prepared  in  one  of  the  many 
chambers  an  arcosolium  or  grave  of  honor. 
Such  graves  had  the  shape  of  a  sarcopha- 
gus, were  chiseled  from  the  floor  upwards 
from  the  living  rock,  and  were  covered 
overhead  by  the  square-finished  ceiling 
of  a  niche.  The  pall-bearers  have  already 
deposited  their  precious  burden.  After 
the  example  of  Christ's  most  sacred  body, 
the  remains  of  the  martyr  have  been  **  an- 
ointed with  precious  spices^  and  wrapped 
in  fine  linens.''''  Some  loving  hand  still 
adds  to  these  the  gift  of  a  wreath  of  laurel, 
which  is  placed  on  the  head  of  the  de- 
parted, forming  a  crown  such  as  victors 
are  wont  to  wear,  and  the  officiating  bishop 
performs  the  funeral  rites.  Once  more  do 
the  pious  bystanders  kiss  the  hallowed  re- 
mains, and  then  the  body  is  placed  in  the 
grave,  while  at  its  side  is  deposited  a 
phial  filled  with  the  blood  that  gave  testi- 
mony for  Christ,  and  to  these  is  yet  added 
an  urn  of  which  the  sweet  spices  that  are 
within  serve  as  a  fitting  emblem  of  all  the 
martyr's  virtues,  and  shed  their  sweet  fra- 
grance around  the  new-made  grave  and 
through  the  spacious  hall  in  which  the 
grave  is  situated.  No  sooner  is  this  done 
than  the  grave  at  once  becomes  an  eucha- 
ristic  table,  and  the  marble  slab  that  covers 
it  is  made  to  serve  as  an  altar-stone  on 
whicli  the  bishop  then  and  there  proceeds 
to  ofter  up  the  tremendous  Sacrifice  of  the 
New  Law,  as  a  fitting  homage  to  the  Most 
High  and  a  deserved  honor  to  His  glo- 
rious saints. 

[to  be  CONTINtTKD.] 


THE  FLEMItlllVGS. 


BY    MBS.    AMXA    H.    D0B8XT. 

CHAPTER  X. 

Mrs.  Flkmming  has  a  «beat  suock. 

The  snow  was  beginning  to  melt  on  the 
southern  slopes  of  the  hills,  and  in  shel- 
tered nooks  the  star-wort  shot  its  dark 
waxen  leaves  up  among  the  soft  green 
mosses,  while  now  and  then,  on  sunny 
mild  days,  the  low  musical  warble  of  the 
bluebird — like  stray  notes  from  heaven — 
floated  out  and  melted  on  the  air.  It  was 
cold  enough  yet,  with  too  much  frost  in 
the  ground  for  ploughing,  and  too  much 
frost  in  the  air  for  the  regular  out-door 
farm  work  to  begin  ;  but  there  was  no  lack 
of  work  for  all  that.  The  men  were  busy 
getting  their  farming  implements  in  order, 
burning  brush,  hauling  manure,  and  mend- 
ing fences.  The  Elder  was  busy  fencing 
in  a  piece  of  poor  land,  which  persisted  in 
growing  nothing  but  wire  grass,  to  turn 
his  sheep  into  as  soon  as  spring  opened, 
and  on  rainy  days  in  manufacturing  the 
framework  of  a  hay-tedder,  having  bought 
the  metal  teeth  from  a  travelling  agent  of 
the  inventor  the  preceding  autumn.  Hay- 
tedders  were  novelties  then,  and  all  novel- 
ties were  looked  upon  then,  as  now,  by  old 
practical  farmers,  as  ruinous  innovations; 
but  the  Elder  had  lost  a  whole  field  of  hay 
last  season  for  want  of  hands  to  get  it  in 
in  time,  and  having  seen  a  hay-tedder  at 
work  somewhere  down  the  country,  was  so 
convinced  of  its  utility  that  he  determined 
to  defy  prejudice,  and  use  one  upon  his 
farm.  He  had  great  mechanical  genius, 
and  being  very  much  interested  in  his  ex- 
periment, had  succeeded  in  making,  from 
the  diagram  furnished  by  the  agent,  a 
tedder  which  would  have  borne  favorable 
comparison  with  those  made  in  Boston. 
Nicholas  had  gone  back  to  the  pine  forest, 
and  Reuben  was  happy  at  last  in  the  pros- 
pect of  making  himself  useful :  he  was  to 


218 


AVE     MARIA. 


paint  the  window  frames  and  doors  of  the 
old  homestead,  a  plan  about  which  Mrs. 
Flemming  had  serious  misgivings,  for  she 
was  "morally  sure,"  she  declared,  *'that 
before  they  knew  where  they  were,  Reuben 
would  have  faces  staring  out  at  them  from 
the  panels,  and  the  house  would  look  like 
a  circus;  he  couldn't  help  it,  poor  boy; 
he  was  possessed,  she  was  afraid ;  poor, 
dear  Ruby  !  and  she  couldn't  think,  for  the 
life  of  her,  what  ever  would  become  of  him." 
But  the  Elder  laughed  and  told  her  not  to 
fret,  that  he  would  see  that  there  were  no 
faces  painted  upon  the  panels.  The  girls 
were  also  busy  preparing  Hope's  wedding 
outfit,  for  she  was  to  be  married  in  May  to 
John  Wilde,  which,  together  with  their 
regular  domestic  duties,  left  them  no  idle 
time;  while  Mrs.  Flemming  helped  every- 
body, governed  her  household  and  admin- 
istered its  affairs  with  reference  to  the 
comfort  and  wellbeing  of  all,  and  had, 
every  day,  two  hours  left  for  her  carpet- 
weaving.  One  letter  had  come  to  Eva 
from  George  Merrill,  which  she  gave  un- 
opened to  her  father,  declining  altogether 
to  read  it,  who  put  it  away  into  a  private 
drawer  of  his  desk,  with  a  natural  regret 
that  Eva  had  set  her  face  so  resolutely 
against  her  own  interests ;  but  he  made  no 
remark  one  way  or  the  other  on  the  sub- 
ject, nor  did  any  of  the  rest  of  them. 

One  day  Huldah  Sneathen  and  her 
aunt.  Miss  Deborah  Wyatt,  came  to  spend 
the  day  with  the  Flemmings.  The  girls 
huddled  together  over  the  fine  and  beauti- 
fully made  lingerie  of  Hope's  trousseau, 
and  talked,  and  chattered,  and  cut  pat- 
terns, and  sewed  on  ruffles,  and  embroid- 
ered, until  we  would  have  thought  they 
must  exhaust  themselves,  but  the  subject 
and  the  work  were  too  interesting  by  far 
for  that,  and  their  nimble  tongues  and 
fingers,  instead  of  showing  signs  of  weari- 
ness, grew  more  voluble  and  busy  every 
moment.  Mrs.  Flemming  and  Miss  Debo- 
rah were  entertaining  each  other  in  their 
peculiar  way,  Mrs.  Flemming  inwardly 
fretting  over  the  two  hours  she  was  obliged 
to  lose  at  the  loom;  but  nothing  loth,  and 
with  a  pardonable  motherly  pride,  to  talk 


over  Hope's  good  prospects,  to  all  of  which 
Miss  Deborah  listened  with  an  expression 
on  her  countenance  which  said  plainly :  *'  I 
hope  you  won't  be  disappointed;"  which 
meant,  —  when  literally  translated,  —  "I 
shouldn't  be  sorry  if  you  were."  She  was 
an  angular,  uncomfortable-looking  person, 
and  had  a  way  of  cocking  up  her  nose  and 
chin  to  take  square  aim  with  her  eyes 
whenever  she  addressed  any  one,  which 
was  embarrassing  to  some,  and  almost 
terrifying  to  such  as  had  weak  nerves. 
She  had  never  been  handsome,  and  the 
wine  of  her  'life  had  long  ago  turned  to 
vinegar.  She  wore  her  thin  dry  hair 
drawn  up  to  a  knot  on  the  top  of  her 
head,  and  rolled  into  two  little  flat  rings 
on  each  side  of  her  narrow  forehead, 
where  they  were  held  in  place  by  side- 
combs.  Her  eyes  were  sunken  but  sharp, 
and  her  voice  thin  and  wiry,  but,  as  old 
Sarah  Gill  said,  "  went  through  and 
through yourhead, like agimlet."  Herneck 
was  long,  wrinkled,  and  decorated  with 
two  rows  of  large  gold  beads,  Miss  Deb- 
by's  fortune,  invested  in  that  shape  for 
safe  keeping  and  not  for  ornament,  she 
having  a  dread  of  banks,  and  as  little  love 
for  the  vanities  of  the  world,  as  her  attire 
of  plain  dark  woolen  stuft',  without  braid, 
cord,  or  button  to  trim  it,  testified.  She 
had  kept  house  for  her  brother.  Deacon 
Sneathen,  ever  since  his  wife  died,  and  if 
Huldah  hadn't  got  a  good  start  in  life  un- 
der the  tender,  cheerful  care  of  her  mother, 
she  would  have  been  blighted  and  quenched 
by  Miss  Debby,  who  was  a  firm  believer  in 
total  depravity  and  that  world-renowned 
precept  of  Solomon's:  "  Spare  the  rod  and 
spoil  the  child,"  which  proves  that  Solo- 
mon with  all  his  wisdom  sometimes  gave 
utterance  to  impracticable  theories.  So, 
according  to  Miss  Debby,  there  was  no 
cure  for  total  depravity  in  a  child  except 
the  rod,  until  they  reached  the  age  of  rea- 
son and  obtained  the  "  saving  evidence" 
of  conversion ;  and  she  and  Huldah  had  a 
spirited  time  of  it,  which  resulted  in  Hul- 
dah's  setting  everything  that  her  aunt  ad- 
vocated at  utter  defiance,  and  heartily 
hating  everything  that  she  liked.     So  Hul- 


AVE     MARIA 


819 


dnh  loved  to  danct',  to  sing  Hongn,  to  read 
"Sir  Charles  Grandison/'and  "  Evelina," 
the  only  two  novels  she  had  ever  seen, 
which  she  found  one  day  in  a  harrel  of  old 
papers  in  the  garret  where  she  had  been 
sent  for  punishment,  and  with  which  she 
was  so  charmed,  that  she  repeated  her 
offence  next  day  and  the  day  after,  that 
she  might  be  sent  up  there,  where  she 
could  revel  to  her  heart's  content  in  the 
new,  wonderful  world  she  had  discovered. 
She  loved  to  wear  ribbons,  laces  and  jew- 
elry; and  she  had  some  rare  old  treasures 
of  both  among  the  things  her  mother  had 
left ;  she  liked  ruffles  and  bright  colors, 
and  artificial  flowers,  and  "  purple  and  fine 
linen,"  and  now  that  she  was  grown, 
would  never  read  the  Bible  at  her  aunt's 
bidding;  or  at  all,  unless  she  felt  like  it; 
indeed,  I'm  afraid  that  Miss  Debby  had 
got  Huldah  to  think  of  God  pretty  much 
as  she  used  to  think,  when  she  was  a  child, 
of  the  ogre  that  lived  in  the  clouds  upon 
the  top  of  Jack's  bean  stalk.  She  shud- 
dered when,  sometimes  alone  in  her  moun- 
tain-side rambles  and  sometimes  at  mid- 
night when  the  wintry  stonns  were  howling 
outside  her  windows,  the  thought  of  God, 
the  stern  and  terrible  Judge,  the  merciless 
executioner  of  justice  and  wrath,  who  might 
at  any  moment  reach  out  His  iron  hand  from 
the  heavens  and  thrust  her  into  the  living 
and  eternal  flames  of  woe;  the  God  her  aunt 
had  taught  her  to  believe  in,  came  like  a 
dark,  fearful  shadow  into  her  heart,  making 
her  tremble  and  shrink  even  in  the  bright 
sunshine,  and  hide  her  head  in  her  pillows 
in  the  darkness.  So  it  is  not  strange  that 
Huldah  grew  up,  under  such  influences,  into 
a  sort  of  amiable,  light-hearted  pagan,  fly- 
ing from  all  voluntary  thoughts  of  this  re- 
ligion of  horrors,  and,  like  an  epicurean 
priestess  trying  to  cover  the  skeleton 
with  flowers.  Only  in  one  thing  had  she 
profited  by  her  aunt's  guardianship;  she 
knew  all  the  mysteries  of  domestic  econo- 
my in  all  its  branches,  and  was  noted 
through  the  neighborhood  as  the  "  nat- 
tiest, smartest"  young  girl  in  it.  She 
liked  house-keeping;  and  having  good 
taste  and  ambition,  she  beautified  the  old 


I  brown  house  under  the  elms,  and  excoUed 
j  in  all  that  she  undertook. 

Miss  Debby  had  already  snubbed  Mrs. 
j  Flemming — it  wa«  her  way — and  taken 
the  girls  to  task  for  frivolity,  when  the 
Pllder  came  in  from  his  fence-building,  his 
face  all  aglow  with  ruddy  health,  and 
gave  cordial  greeting  to  his  guests,  whom 
he  was  glad  to  see  as  neighbors,  and  be- 
cause their  coming  seemed  like  a  friendly 
indication  of  what  he  might  expect  about 
a  renewal  of  the  partnership,  concerning 
which  he  had,  somehow,  without  any  tan- 
gible reason  however,  had  strange  mis- 
givings. After  he  got  fairly  seated,  and 
they  were  all  waiting  for  dinner.  Miss 
Debby  stuck  up  her  chin,  and  taking  sure 
aim  at  him  with  her  eyes,  said  sharply: 

"  Wal  now,  Elder,  I  hear  you're  making 
one  of  them  tedder  things." 

"  Yes  ;  I  have  it  nearly  finished.  It  is 
a  good  thing  for  harvesting  hay." 

"  It's  a  great  shame,  to  my  thinking. 
It's  taking  the  bread  from  the  poor.  I 
don't  hold  with  any  such  machinery  !"  she 
snorted  out,  elevating  her  chin  still  higher. 

"  Labor's  hard  to  get  sometimes;  mean- 
while the  hay  gets  spoiled.  The  tedder 
works  so  fast  that  you  can  go  over  your 
field  three  or  four  times  if  it  is  necessary, 
and  if  there's  a  good  hot  sun,  get  hea>'y 
grass  cured  enough  to  go  in  the  same 
day." 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.  I  don't 
like  new-fangled  things.  They're  unlucky. 
I  saw  one  of  them  things  at  work  in  Cap- 
tain Jones'  field  last  summer,  and  it 
looked  like  a  grasshopper  kicking  out  its 
legs.  It  seems  fooling  with  Providence, 
and  will  make  our  lads  as  lazy  as  Virgin- 
ny  nigger  drivers." 

"  The  world  moves  on,  Miss  Debby,  in 
spite  of  prejudice,  and  I'm  afraid  you'll 
see  more  tedders  than  mine  at  work  this 
har^'est,"  he  said  with  a  quiet  smile. 

"  And  I  hear  you're  hauling  pond  muck 
to  put  on  your  fields  !  Land  sakes,  Elder 
Flemming  !  I  think  you  must  be  getting 
a  screw  looser  in  the  head  in  your  old 
days!  Who  ever  heard  the  likel"  she 
said. 


220 


AVE-     MARIA 


"  It^s  one  of  the  best  fertilizers  in  the 
world,"  he  replied,  good-humoredly. 

"  You  got  that  out  of  books,  I  suppose  ! 
Book-farming's  ruined  more  men  than  a 
few." 

"  Tm  a  pretty  old  farmer,"  said  the 
Elder,  poking  up  the  fire,  with  just  a 
shadow  of  annoyance  in  his  countenance, 
"  but  I  don't  think  pond  mud  will  ruin 
me,  if  I  do  get  the  notion  from  the 
'  Farmer.'  You'd  better  try  some  on  that 
slip  of  ground  west  of  your  orchard,  where 
nothing  will  grow  but  rag-weed." 

Miss  Debby  sniffed  and  was  silent.  That 
sterile  lot  was  the  eye-sore  of  her  life ; 
and  the  Elder  could  not  have  found  a 
more  certain  means  to  end  their  dispute 
than  the  mention  of  it,  if  he  had  taxed  his 
ingenuity  for  an  hour.  Then  she  turned 
sharply  around  toward  the  girls  and  said, 
"  Eva,  how  could  you  flirt  so  with  George 
Merrill  ?  I'd  like  to  see  Huldah  treat  any- 
body 80." 

Eva's  face  crimsoned,  but  she  made  no 
answer.  "  I  say,  it  was  shameful  of  you, 
Eva,  and  he  so  rich  and  handsome.  Land 
sakes !  have  you  lost  your  tongue  ?" 

"  I  have  never  flirted  with  any  one.  Miss 
Debby.  Hope,  give  me  that  sleeve,  and 
tell  me  how  it  shall  be  trimmed,"  said 
Eva  quietly. 

"  Wal !  and  so  techy  about  it,  too. 
There  must  be  something  in  it.  I  wish 
Huldah  had  such  a  chance." 

"  I  wish  she  hadn't,  then,  "  answered 
Huldah  saucily.  "I  wonder  you  didn't  set 
your  cap  for  hiin.  Aunt  Deb."  The  old 
lady  bridled,  and  got  red  in  the  end  of  her 
nose ;  but  the  subject  was  quenched. 
Then,  defeated  on  one  point,  she  flew  to 
another,  and  said,  turningtoward  the  Elder: 

"  Next  Sabbath's  Saycrament  day,  ain't 
it.  Elder  ? 

"Yes." 

"  That  jest  'minds  me,  now  I  come  to 
think  about  it :  What  become  of  you  the 
last  three  months  at  the  table  of  the  Lord's 
Supper !  I  looked  'round  and  didn't  see  you 
nor  hear  your  voice,  either  singing,  nor 
yet  praying.  The  Deacon  says  you  was 
up  to  the  Pines." 


"Yes,"    he    replied,    "I    was    at    the 
Pines." 

"  Wal,  I  s'pose  you'll  be  along  Sabbath. 
It  seems  sort  of  strange  not  to  have  you 
there  in  your  place."  Fortunately,  at  this 
moment  Reuben  and  his  mother  came  into 
the  room  together,  and  the  cat  running  to 
meet  Reuben,  whose  especial  pet  she  was, 
he  trod  upon  her  tail  without  seeing  her, 
and  was  so  startled  at  her  outcry  and  the 
tangle  she  got  into  under  his  feet  that  he 
lost  his  balance  and  pitched  forward  with 
full  force,  falling  across  Miss  Debby's  lap, 
just  as  he,  with  a  beaming  smile,  had 
stretched  out  his  arm  to  shake  hands  with 
her,  almost  upsetting  her  and  the  chair  to- 
gether; she  instinctively  grasping  at  some- 
thing to  save  herself  from  falling,  seized 
Reuben's  long  golden  hair,  and  the  next 
instant  would  have  boxed  his  ears  soundly, 
when  Huldah  grasped  hold  of  her  wrists, 
and  with  much  laughter  told  Reuben  to 
escape,  which  he  did  forthwith,  glad  of 
the  opportunity  to  get  somewhere  to  laugh 
his  fill.  It  was  an  absurd  scene ;  even  the 
Elder's  grave  eyes  had  a  merry  twinkle  in 
them,  and  Mrs.  Flemming  was  so  choked 
with  laughter  that  she  could  scarcely  find 
breath  enough  to  say :  "  I  declare !  I  do 
wonder  what  will  ever  become  of  Ruby?" 
while  Eva  and  Huldah  and  Hope  bent 
over  their  sewing  almost  in  convulsions. 
Miss  Debby  regained  her  equilibrium,  but 
not  her  temper,  and  went  away  directly 
after  dinner,  to  the  great  relief  of  the  Flem- 
mings,  to  whose  amiable  and  happy  tem- 
pers she  was  under  all  circumstances  and 
at  all  times  a  moral  nettle. 

That  evening  Mrs.  Flemming,  after  a 
long  and  thoughtful  silence,  said :  "  Fa- 
ther, it  does  seem  strange  to  me  that  you 
have  not  been  to  meeting  the  last  three 
Sabbaths  of  the  Lord's  Supper.  I  hope 
nothing  will  take  you  off  next  Sabbath." 
She  had  been  secretly  troubled  for  weeks 
about  this,  but  had  forborne  speaking,  un- 
der the  impression  that  her  husband's  ab- 
sence from  his  usual  conspicuous  place  on 
these  solemn  occasions  was  of  absolute 
necessity  ;  but  Miss  Debby's  remarks,  so 
full  of  ill-concealed  malice,  determined  her 


AVE     MARIA. 


221 


to  relieve  her  mind  by  speaking  out.  The 
Elder  did  not  answer  her  at  once ;  he  only 
moved  uneasily  in  his  chair,  lowered  hi» 
heavy  eye  brows,  and  tapped  slowly  with 
his  fingers  on  the  page  of  the  old  Bible 
which  he  had  been  poring  over.  At  last 
he  said  in  a  slow, deliberate  voice:  "There's 
no  business  to  take  me  oft'.  JBut  I  shall 
not  be  there.'"'  Mrs.  Flemming  dropped 
her  work  and  looked  at  him  in  speechless 
surprise,  and  in  her  face  there  was  a  flick- 
ering look  of  terror,  an  appealing,  silent 
demand  for  the  meaning  of  his  words.  It 
had  been  laying  heavy  at  her  heart  for 
three  months,  but  she  had  kept  silent,  hop- 
ing that  when  the  next  '*  Sacrament  Sab- 
bath" rolled  round,  her  husband,  of  whom 
she  was  justly  proud  as  the  impersonation 
of  all  that  was  true  and  good  in  man, 
would  be  there  at  his  post  the  burning  and 
shining  light,  the  golden  candlestick  of 
the  sanctuary;  and  now  to  hear  this!  He 
would  not  be  there  ! 

"Did  I  understand  you,  father!  Did 
you  say  that  you  would  not  be  present  at 
the  Table  of  the  Lord?"  asked  Mrs.  Flem- 
ming in  a  low,  excited  voice. 

"  Vou  did  not  misunderstand  me,  moth- 
er," he  replied,  speaking  slowly:  "I  shall 
not  go." 

"  And  why  !  Oh  husband  !  husband  ! 
what  does  it  mean?"  she  exclaimed.  "It 
can't  be  that  you  are  a  backslider  after  all 
these  years  of  christian,  godly  life?  You 
of  all  men  !" 

"  I  maybe  that  in  a  sense,"  he  answered, 
"  but  I  will  not  be  a  hypocrite." 

"  Hypocrite  !  Why,  father,  what  do  you 
mean  ?  Eva,  Hope,  Reuben  !  go  away  ;  I 
want  to  talk  to  father,"  she  exclaimed,  al- 
most beside  herself. 

"  Stay  where  you  all  are,  children.  I 
have  no  secrets  from  you,  least  of  all  in 
such  matters  as  this,"  said  the  Elder,  lift- 
ing liis  head  and  looking  out  of  the  great 
truthful  eyes  from  one  to  the  other  of  them, 
as  they,  full  of  wonder  at  the  strange 
scene,  looked  with  almost  frightened  faces 
towards  him.  "I  have  something  to  say 
to  you,  wife  and  children, — a  something 
which  has  troubled  me  for  years,  and  made 
--^^  ■  ■    - 


a  miserable  man  of  mc  whcncrer  I  have 
partaken  of  the  bread  and  wine  of  the  Sac- 
rament. I  would  have  kept  my  secret  still 
buried  in  my  own  breast, — for  I  know  of 
no  help  for  me, — but,  as  you  see  yourselves, 
circumstances  compel  me,  as  it  were,  to 
reveal  it,  at  least  to  you,  my  wife  and  chil- 
dren, for  fear  you  may  judge  me  as  having 
been  guilty  of  hidden  sin,  and  be  scandal- 
ized in  me." 

"O  Wolfert!  Wolfert  Flemming  I  what 
awful  temptation  has  got  possession  of 
you?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Flemming,  from 
whohc  face  every  vestige  of  color  had  fled, 
and  whose  eyes  were  dilated  and  fairly 
gleaming  with  excitement. 

"I  don't  know,"  be  said,  sadly;  "I 
don't  fully  know,  myself.  I  feel  blind,  like 
Sampson,  and  maybe  am  pulling  the  tem- 
ple roof  down  to  my  own  destruction. 
But  I  can  bear  it  no  longer !  I  was  not 
born  to  be  a  hypocrite; — I'd  rather  die 
than  be  a  hypocrite." 

"  Father,"  said  Eva,  going  round  to  him 
and  standing  by  his  side,  while  she  laid 
her  arm  tenderly  about  him  and  drew  his 
grand,  handsome  head  to  her  breast :  "  Tell 
us  what  difficulty  you  are  struggling  with? 
Wfr  may  not  know  how  to  help  you,  but 
we  do  know  that  whatever  the  cause  is,  it 
is  an  honest  one,  and  we  can  respect  and 
sympathize,  and  try  to  soothe — .  Oh,  fa- 
ther 1  you  who  are  so  truthful  and  good, 
trAy  should  you  be  so  troubled?  It  must 
be  something  of  great  weight  to  move  you 
from  your  foundations  like  this." 

"  Sandy  foundations,  child !"  he  said, 
folding  her  hand  for  a  moment  in  his  own. 
"But  I  will  unbosom  myself,  then;  think 
as  you  may  of  me,  you  will  never  despise 
me  for  hypocrisy." 

"Dear  father  !"  whispered  Eva,  leaning 
her  cheek  against  his  gray  head.  Mrs. 
Flemming  could  not  speA.  She  put  her 
hand  to  her  throat  once  or  twice,  and  a 
quick,  deep-drawn  bi<5rt^^Vji  a  sob,  es- 
caped her  lips ;  an /^f^WTn^H^^^ands  to- 
gether in  her  lap/sl*  tun^\<ni8ten  to 
what  her  husbaiicH  mlgh^48t\  e  tto,  Jay. 

[to  be 


222 


AVE      MARIA. 


M:X78IC    from:   rev.    F.   SCMURIOER'S    "AUlIETS-    R08ETV." 


AtJCOMPANIMENT    BY    PrOP.    M.    E.     GibAC. 


Andantt. 


^^^. 


±=t5=± 


-r=p=^=y3=T 


3=1!^ 


^ 


r-V-V" 


Bas$. 


IIo  -  ly  Qupen!  we  bend  be  •  fore  tboe, Queen  of    pu-ri   -    ty    di  -  Tine!     Make  u*     lore  tbee, 

Thou  to    whom  a   Child  was    giv  •  en  Great  -  er  than  the    sons  of     men,       Com-ing  down  from 

By  the  hope  thy    name  in  -spi-res!    By  ourdoom  re-Tersedthrongli  thee:  Ilelp  as,  Queen  of 


'-0-        -i-        -ik        ^  ^^        ^  •  P~~^  ^ 


=?=^=y 


^iiSliSip 


^1^^ 


we      im-plore  thee,    Make  us  tru  -  ly         to      be  thine.  Teach,  0  teach  m.   Ho  -  ly  Moth-er!    IIow      to     c>>n-quer 
high  •  estheav-en         To    cre-ate   the      world    a  •  gain.        0,    by  that  AI  •  inigh-ty  Mak-«r,    Whom  thy  -  self,    m 
An  •  gel  choirs !  To    a  bloat    «     -     ter  -  ni  -  ty !      Teach,  0  tench  m,  Ho  -  ly  SCoth-er !    How    to    cod  -  quer 


mi^ 


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EE 


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A 


^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 


gg|^j=?=^^^^3Et;^EE|^^^£g^Eg^pp 


:i:ll 


•r'  •  ry     sin;  How  to     loveand  help  each    o- then;  IIow   the   prize  of        life    to  win. 

Vir  -  gjn    bore  I  O,    by     thy    su-preme  Ore  -  a  -  tor,  Link'd  with   thee  for         er-er   more, 

ev  •  ry    lin;  How  to  love   and  help  each  oth  -  er  How     the    prixe    of        lite  to     win. 


AVE     MARIA. 


223 


<Shildren's  :^epartment. 

THE  FISUER.MA.VS  CHILDRE!V ; 

OK, 

The  Reward  of  llospltalUy. 

[TransUteU  from  the  French  fur  the  Ati  MimiA.J 
HY    L.    E.    ML. 

On  the  summit  of  a  high  mountain, 
from  which  two  narrow  and  difficult  paths 
led,  was  placed  a  statue  of  the  Virgin, 
known  from  time  immemorial  as  Our  Lady 
of  Help,  and  whom  all  the  sailors  and 
fishers  of  the  country  invoked  under  the 
touching  title  of  the  Star  of  the  Sea. 

Before  trusting  themselves  to  the  treach- 
erous element  where  they  braved  death, 
they  went  two  by  two  with  wax  tapers  in 
their  hands,  and  confiding  themselves  to 
their  protectress  they  recommended  their 
voyage  to  her,  and  begged  through  her 
intercession  to  be  delivered  from  ship- 
wreck and  have  their  labors  rewarded  by 
success.  On  returning  from  their  voy- 
age, they  again  sought  the  shrine  of  the 
Virgin,  and  sang  hymns  and  litanies  in 
lionor  of  her  whose  hand  protected  them, 
and  then  hung  on  the  walls  of  her  chapel 
the  votive  offerings  they  had  promised  in 
the  hour  of  danger. 

The  sun  was  about  to  sink  in  the  bosom 
of  the  vast  ocean.  His  radiant  disk  had 
already  disappeared  beneath  the  thick 
clouds,  whose  edges  were  still  gilded  by 
the  brilliant  light.  The  wind  roared  afar 
otr,  while  the  agitated  waves  heaved  and 
moaned.  The  birds  plunged  their  wings 
into  the  liquid  plain;  and  their  })iercing 
cries,  echoed  from  afar,  seemed  to  call 
upon  the  tempest  to  advance  in  its  fury. 

The  holy  mountain  was  solitary.  Two 
children  only  were  kneeling  in  prayer 
before  the  image  of  Our  Lady  of  Help,  im- 
ploring her  powerful  protection  with  fer- 
vor. The  wind  that  played  with  the  float- 
ing curls  of  the  little  girl  seemed  like  a 
messenger  from  on  l>igh,  sent  to  receive 
the  prayers  that  escaped  from  their  lips 
and  bear  them  up  to  heaven. 


The  darkness  increased,  and  the  children 
rising  up  directed  their  footsteps  to  the 
most  difficult  of  the  two  roads.  Aw  they 
walked  along,  the  young  girl  gave  her  arm 
to  her  brother,  but  both  stopped  frequently 
to  cast  a  glance  at  the  heavens,  now  al- 
most completely  overshadowed  by  heavy 
black  clouds. 

Soon  they  left  the  mountain  road,  and, 
taking  the  highway  for  a  short  distance, 
they  entered  on  a  narrow  path  that  the 
eye  could  scarcely  distinguish  amid  the 
the  thickness  of  the  woods.  They  hurried 
their  steps,  but  it  was  only  at  the  end  of  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  that  they  reached  the 
door  of  the  humble  dwelling  they  hastened 
to  enter. 

"  The  storm  will  soon  begin,  my  poor 
Stephen,"  said  the  young  girl  to  her 
brother ;  "  may  God  and  our  Lady  aid  our 
dear  father,  and  give  Louis  strength  to 
assist  him."  A  sigh  was  Stephen's  only 
answer.  "Lie  down  before  you  hear  the 
thunder,"  said  his  sister,  **  otherwise  you 
cannot  sleep." 

"  No,  Marie,  I  shall  not  let  you  watch 
alone,"  replied  Stephen,  overcoming  his 
fear.  "  During  the  last  storm  Louis  was 
here,  and  that  is  why  I  slept;  but  this 
evening  I  shall  not  leave  you." 

"  Poor  child,  you  cannot  aid  me."  Ma- 
rie had  scarcely  finished  these  words  when 
a  frightful  peal  of  thunder  resounded 
throughout  the  valley.  Stephen,  trembling 
like  a  leaf,  concealed  hie  face  in  his 
hands.  The  wind,  whose  violence  had 
been  appeased  for  a  few  moments  now  re- 
commenced its  roarings,  and  rushing 
among  the  trees,  seemed  now  like  horrible 
moaning,  again  like  funeral  wails,  and 
carried  terror  and  fright  to  the  souls  of 
the  poor  chihlren. 

Thebrilliant  flashes  of  lightning  dimmed 
the  pale  rays  of  the  single  lamp  that 
burned  in  the  cottage;  the  hail  and  rain 
beat  furiously  against  the  window.  The 
night  was  frightful,  and  the  children  en- 
deavored to  calm  their  fears  by  prayers. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  violent  rap  at  the 
door.  The  children  started  up.  A  second 
stroke   stronger  than    the  first  increased 


224r 


AVE     MARIA 


their   terror,  and  the  dog  that  slept  near 
the  hearth  ran  barking  to  the  door. 

"  Whoever  you  are,"  cried  a  voice  from 
without,  "  do  not  refuse  hospitality  to  a 
traveller  who  asks  it  in  the  nanie  of  God." 

Marie  rose  up  to  open  the  door,  but  Ste- 
phen held  her  back ;  "  Sister,  sister,"  said 
he  in  a  low  voice,  "do  not  open  it  I  beg  of 
you." 

*'  And  if  our  father  and  Louis,  overtaken 
by  the  storm,"  replied  the  girl,  in  the  same 
tone,  "  should  ask  a  shelter  in  the  name  of 
God,  what  would  you  think  of  him  who 
would  cruelly  refuse  it?"  Stephen  made 
no  reply,  but  unloosed  his  grasp  of  his 
sister's  dress. 

The  door  was  opened,  and  a  man  still 
in  the  flower  of  his  age  entered ;  he  was 
covered  by  a  large  cloak,  and  held  a  fine 
horse  by  the  bridle. 

"We  can  easily  offer  you  a  bed  and 
some  refreshments,"  said  Marie,  "  but  sir, 
your  poor  horse  will  fare  badly." 

"  Many  thanks,  for  me  and  for  him,"  said 
the  traveller  smiling;  "anything  would  be 
preferable  to  the  terrible  necessity  of 
spending  the  night  in  the  forest." 

Occupied  with  the  cares  of  hospitality, 
the  two  children  no  longer  feared  the 
storm.  The  tempest,  however,  had  not 
yet  ceased,  the  thunder  still  roared,  and 
the  lightning  illuminated  the  clouds;  but 
they  thought  only  of  the  stranger  and  his 
needs. 

The  horse,  which  Avas  at  first  received 
in  the  first  room,  was  now  conducted  by 
Stephen  to  a  half-inclosed  shed.  There 
he  spread  out  some  bundles  of  straw,  for 
the  animal's  bed,  and  after  putting  some 
barley  and  dried  peas  in  a  basket  and  giv- 
ing them  to  tlie  horse  he  rejoined  his 
sister.  The  latter  had  kindled  a  large 
fire  of  dry  brushwood  to  warm  the  chilled 
traveller.  She  placed  on  the  table  a  mug 
of  cider,  some  bread,  cheese  and  hard 
eggs,  her  only  provisions. 

After  becoming  slightly  warmed,  the 
stranger  requested  Stephen  to  show  him 
where  his  horse  was  placed.  A  smile  of 
satisfaction  lit  up  his  fine  features  when 
he  saw  how  carefully  the  young  child  had 


supplied  the  wants  of  his  cjierished  courser. 
He  removed  its  trappings  and  rubbed  off 
the  water  and  sweat  with  a  few  handfuls 
of  straw.  That  done,  he  returned  with  his 
young  host  to  the  hearth  where  Marie 
awaited  them. 

She  had  heated  the  cider, 'and  presented 
it  to  the  stranger  with  some  toasted  crusts 
of  bread,  excusing  herself  for  having 
nothing  better  to  offer  him.  The  stran- 
ger proved  by  his  appetite  how  palatable 
he  found  the  meal.  Marie  and  her  brother 
gazed  with  pleasure  on  the  good  and 
noble  features  of  their  guest ;  while  an 
expression  of  the  happiness  the  soul  ex- 
periences after  the  performance  of  a  good 
action  shone  on  their  own  features  and 
lent  them  an  additional  charm. 

"My  dear  children,"  said  the  traveller, 
when  his  slightly  appeased  hunger  per- 
mitted him  to  speak,  "  are  you  alone 
here?" 

These  words  opened  anew  the  wounds  of 
their  innocent  hearts.  Tears  trembled  in 
the  eyes  of  Marie  as  she  answered,  "No, 
sir;  my  father  and  my  cousin  live  here 
with  us." 

"  And  where  are  they  during  this  fright- 
ful tempest?  ' 

"  Alas,  God  only  knows ;  dead,  perhaps." 
And  sobs  stifled  the  voice  of  the  young  girl. 

"My  father  is  a  fisherman,"  replied  Ste- 
phen, "  and  has  gone  out  with  my  cousin : 
the  tempest  has  surprised  them  on  the  sea." 

"  Poor  children  !  And  your  mother, 
is  she  dead?" 

"Yes,  sir;  it  is  two  years  since  we  laid 
her  in  the  tomb." 

"Your  cousin  Louis  has  no  parents 
then?" 

"No,  sir;  his  mother  died  when  he  was 
born,  and  his  father,  who  was  abrave  sailor, 
was  killed  in  fighting  for  the  king.  My 
father,  who  is  far  from  being  rich,  has 
taken  our  cousin  with  him,  and  we  love 
him  as  if  he  were  our  brother." 

"And  are  you  not  afraid  in  this  solitude?" 

"  No,  sir  ;  the  good  God  is  here  with  us, 
and  our  Lady  watches  over  ns-  like  a 
mother." 

[to  bk  continued.] 


AVE   MARIA. 

^  Catholic  ^ouvnal  devoted  io  the  gonot  of  the  ^\wtA  i'irflin. 


Vol.  V.  NOTRE  DAME.  IITDIAHA,  AFBIL  10,  1869.  Ho.  15. 


Mary  the  Trae  Woman. 


Amid  the  theories  that  now  perplex  the 
worhl,  the  question  of"  Woman's  Ripfhts" 
is  at  the  present  moment  occupying  a 
pre-eminent  phice.  No  question  involv- 
ing woman's  position,  woman's  preroga- 
tives, woman's  happiness,  can  be  ignored 
in  a  journal  devoted  to  the  honor  of  the 
highest  of  all  women:  we  need,  then,  no 
excuse  for  discussing  the  question. 

A  true  child  of  Mary,  at  the  feet  of  the 
Queen  of  the  angels,  can  hardly  look  with 
disdain  on  half  of  the  human  race  and 
vote  them  unworthy  of  any  honor  which 
earth  can  afford.  If  Mary  is  the  Mother 
of  God  by  a  singular  and  exalted  i)rivi- 
lege,  every  christian  mother  is  or  should 
be  mother  of  the  divinity  by  God  im- 
planted in  the  soul  of  her  child.  And 
every  facility  should  bo  afforded  hor  to 
enable  her  to  accomplish  the  end  which 
the  very  fact  of  such  amothership  involves. 

There  cannot  remain  a  doubt  that  this 
cherishing  the  divinity  of  man,  this  evolv- 
ing the  highest  faculties  with  which  man 
is  endowed,  this  bringing  out  of  the  affec- 
tions, by  watchful  interest  and  loving 
care,  is  the  highest  employment  of  hu- 
manity;  one  which,  to  be  successfully 
performed,  demands  the  highest  qualities, 
not  only  of  the  mind,  but  of  the  soul, 
that  mysterious  essence  which  enables  man 
to  know,  love,  and  serve  his  Creator,  God, 
— Ilis  Fatlier,  in  whose  image  he  was  cre- 
ated. 

Looked  at,  then,  in  this  light  alone,  it 
is  not  only  a  right,  but,  the  welfare  of 
the    human  race    makes    it,  a    neceaaity, 


that  woman  should  be  trained  to  her  high 
office,  in  the  highest  manner  it  is  possible 
for  her  to  be  so  trained.  The  welfare  of 
nations  depends  upo4i  her,  for  never  yet 
existed  a  lofty-minded  man,  a  man  of  real 
genius,  of  mental  8U]>eriority,  but  had  a 
superior  mother  to  foster  the  germs  of 
greatness.  Not  only  do  modern  times 
proclaim  this  truth,  but  all  the  old  tradi- 
tions,— whether  the  mythology  of  Grecian 
artistic  times,  or  the  more  ancient  legends 
of  the  Persian,  Indian  and  Chinese  the- 
ogonies. 

Every  great  man  of  the  olden  time  is 
born  of  a  woman  to  whom  a  luminous  ray 
imparted  fecundity,  and  thereby  united 
the  divine  and  human  natures.  A  sacred 
fire  descendg  on  earth,  to  bless  mankind, 
through  woman's  agency.  This  is  the 
more  remarkable,  tTom  the  fact  that  the 
very  nations  where  these  traditions  still 
abide  in  the  sacred  books,  now  treat  their 
women  as  inferior  beings,  often  reviling 
them  as  intrinsically  bad.  This  latter 
fact  is  a  proof  among  others  that  in  the 
first  ages  woman  was  respected,  honored, 
and  that  in  proportion  as  man  fell  from 
his  high  estate  did  woman  become  de- 
graded as  his  slave,  even  when  she  re- 
tained the  title  of  wife. 

It  is  perhaps  to  the  primeval  ages  that 
we  ought  to  look  when  we  seek  to  as- 
certain the  proper  position  of  woman. 
Man,  in  punishment  of  his  transgression, 
no  less  than  by  the  action  of  an  immutable 
law,  had  in  falling  from  the  law  of  grace 
lost  his  spontaneous  power  over  matter; 
matter  being  no  longer  obedient  to  his 
will,  he  was  to  toil  to  subdue  it.  He  had 
been  created  "  lord  of  the  earth  ;"  now  he 
had  to  solicit  it  by  toil,  to  compel  it  by 


AVE      MARIA 


drudgery,  to  yield  to  him  its  fruits.  Ab- 
solute lord  he  was  no  longer.  lie  had 
fallen  under  the  material  law. 

Woman  was  of  a  different  calibre  alto- 
gether. She  was  fonned  because  it  was 
not  good  for  man  to  be  alone.  As  master 
of  the  creation,  he  could  command,  pat- 
ronize, and  amuse  himself  with  the  infe- 
rior beings  who  crouched  at  his  feet ;  but 
he  had  no  one  to  call  out  his  affections,  to 
respect,  consult,  love  with  a  high-minded, 
equal,  sympathetic  love  which  should  be 
to  him  the  earthly  type  of  that  still  more 
ethereal,  more  entrancing  spiritual  love 
with  which  he  was  to  do  homage  to  his 
Maker.  And  thus  woman  was  formed  to 
be  the  angel  of  his  higher  nature,  the 
guardian  of  his  affections,  lest  the  mate- 
rial empire  he  exercised  over  all  lower  na- 
ture should  cause  him  to  neglect  the  ex- 
ercise of  the  higher  faculties  of  his  being. 
"Adam  was  not  seduced,"  says  Saint  Paul ; 
"but,  the  womau  being  seduced,  was  in 
the  transgression."*  Adam  was  not  se- 
duced from  his  lordship  over  the  material 
world,  nor  from  his  fidelity  to  his  wife,  to 
whom  his  best  earthly  affections  belonged 
by  right;  but  he  yielded,  from  complai- 
sance, to  the  being  whose  office  it  was  to 
call  him  from  an  existence  which  tended 
to  become  too  much  materialized,  to  one 
which  exercised  the  higher  affections  of 
his  soul.  Eve  was  created  to  be  the  link 
between  him  and  God  by  keeping  his  affec- 
tions in  play,  her  own  soul  being  more 
forcibly  attracted  to  spirituality  than  his, 
for  he  was  specially  created  to  rule  mat- 
ter, while  she  was  fonned  to  rule  by  her 
influence  over  the  affections :  those  affec- 
tions which  united  her  to  man  on  the  one 
side,  to  God  on  the  other.  Had  the  link 
not  been  broken,  the  heart  of  her  husband 
would  have  been  drawn  to  a  more  perfect 
obedience  to  God  through  her,  as,  alas!  it 
was  drawn  to  disobedience. 

She  misused  the  power  she  possessed 
over  the  affections :  through  her  -influence 
pian  fell  under  the  natural  law.  An  over- 
weening estimate  of  physical  power,  an 

•  1  Tim.  ii,  14. 


overwhelming  desire  of  physical  enjoy- 
ment, took  possession  of  him:  reason  was 
dethroned  from  her  supremacy  in  his  be- 
ing, and  the  disorder  ensued  which  re- 
sulted at  one  time,  prior  to  the  christian 
era,  in  the  degradation  of  woman  among 
all  nations  of  the  earth  save  only  the  Jew- 
ish, and  even  among  tliem  she  played  by 
no  means  so  important  a  part  as  she  has 
since  done. 

We  see,  then,  in  this  brief  history,  the 
principle  upon  which  it  was  primarily  in- 
tended to  establish  the  relationship  be- 
tween man  and  woman.  The  empire  over 
the  outside  arrangements,  the  power  over 
the  physical  world  which  man  possessed, 
was  to  be  tempered  by  the  influence  of  love, 
softened  by  the  attractive  affinities  of  a 
spiritual  nature,  of  which  woman  repre- 
sented the  idea  better  than  any  other  form 
in  the  creation.  Naturally  and  necessarily, 
when  she  broke  the  spiritual  tie  with  her 
heavenly  Father  which  was  her  tower  of 
strength,  her  surest  protection,  her  only 
real  safcguArd  for  the  weaker  condition  in 
which  she  was  framed, — necessarily,  when 
that  spiritual  influence  of  love  no  longer 
stood  between  her  and  the  fierce  despot 
who,  separated  from  God,  soon  learned  to 
rule  the  world  by  an  iron  will,  necessarily 
then  she  fell  under  the  sentence  pronounced 
against  her :  it  was  an  inevitable  result  of 
the  rule  of  man  untempered  by  the,  divine 
essence,  which  had  been  inbreathed  at  his 
creation  to  crown  his  many  perfections. 
And  the  Lord  God  said  to  the  woman :  I 
will  greatly  multiply  thy  sorrow  and  thy 
conception :  in  sorrow  thou  slialt  bring 
forth  children  :  thy  desire  shall  be  to  thy 
husband  and  he  shall  rule  over  thee.  As 
if  He  had  said :  You  have  disordered  the 
primal  arrangements ;  you  have  dethroned 
love,  you  have  uprooted  spiritual  instincts; 
the  power  of  force  will  now  prevail;  pas- 
sion will  govern  instead  of  reason  ;  your 
frame  is  the  weaker,  you  will  have  to  sub- 
rait.  Children  will  be  born  for  the  mere 
gratification  of  a  brutal  instinct,  instead  of 
being  the  illustrious  progeny  qf  a  holy 
and  consecrated  union  of  a  divine  pair. 
The  world  cannot  fail  of  being  disordered 


AVE      MARIA 


227 


when  the  children  of  God  fall  from  their 
high  estate  and  become  nnimaln  unable  to 
control  their  ai)i>etites.  Hut  the  love  in 
thy  heart,  thouj;h  losing  somewhat  of  its 
spiritual  affinities,  shall  not  be  utterly 
quelled:  thou  shall  still  cling  to  thy  hus- 
band, even  though  beconu^  thy  master  and 
rule  over  thee. 

Has  not  the  j»rojdiecy  been  fulfilled? 
Nay,  even  to  this  day — in  this  our  loved, 
our  free,  America — does  not  passion  ride 
rampant,  does  not  woman  bring  forth  in 
sorrow?  Are  there  not  weighty  ques- 
tions— involving  misery,  involvingcrime — 
connected  with  the  population  of  the  earth? 
And  how  are  these  to  be  remedied?  How 
is  Eve's  punishment  to  be  lessened  in  the 
persons  of  her  daughters  ?  Hardly  by  in- 
truding on  man's  special  prerogative. 
Hardly  by  assuming  duties  which  would 
interfere  with  the  performance  of  her  own. 

The  world  is  already  too  materialistic  in 
its  tendencies;  would  it  become  less  so  if 
the  competition  for  wealth,  for  honor, 
for  fame  and  for  power,  were  suddenly 
doubled? — if  the  influence  of  fove,  which, 
though  imi>erfect  in,  our  present  fallen 
state,  still  operates  for  good,  still  repre- 
sents disinterestedness  on  earth,  were  sud- 
denly withdrawn? — if  mothers,  entering  on 
a  political  arena,  forgot  in  the  excitement 
of  contention  to  worship  truth  and  justice 
at  the  altar  of  God? 

Ambition  spurs  man  every  day  to  unjust 
deeds  which  his  inward  voice  condemns, 
and  which  he  dares  not  name  at  home  to 
lier  who,  morn  and  night,  still  bends  the 
knee  in  worship  of  the  "good"  that  fills 
all  space,  save  whei*e  rebellious  man  works 
his  foul  will. 

The  home  where  dwells  an  educated 
woman,  whose  leisure  moments  are  conse- 
crated to  contemplating  good ;  good  in 
the  abstract,  good  as  it  fails  in  man  but 
dwells  in  God, — the  woman  who  can  hush 
the  world's  shrill  call  to  vanity,  and  dwell 
within  an  atmosphere  drawn  down  from 
heaven;  who  can  evoke  the  purity  of  saints, 
and  dwell  in  Mary's  presence  in  her 
house, — that  woman  has  an  influence  divine 
in  its  significance,  which,  well   sustained, 


will  purify  all  personn  that  snrronnd  her. 
F'olly  hides  its  head  though  unrebuked  by 
won!,  and  passion  sinks;  for  reverence 
presides  and  grace  shines  through  her,  il- 
lumining all  she  touches  with  its  hues,  so 
sweetly  tempered  they  reflect  themselves 
on  all  surroun<Iing8 — husband,  children, 
friends.  The  hojne  of  purity,  the  home  of 
love,  of  enlightened  piety,  where  dwells  a 
daughter  of  Mary,  sweetly  endeavoring  to 
emulate  the  house  of  Nazareth  in  her  gov- 
ernment of  this  earthly  sanctuar}',  is  in  it- 
self an  antidote  to  the  poison  of  worldly 
vice  ;  a  reserve  of  holiness  where  the  err- 
ing may  still  find  a  pathway  back  to  good; 
a  place  of  refreshment  where  disappointed 
ambition  learns  to  aim  at  a  higher  life; 
a  magazine  of  stored-up  spiritual  treas- 
ures, on  which  a  man  jaded  with  the  cares 
and  soured  by  the  vexations  of  the  world 
learns  practically  to  believe  that  heaven 
may  be.  Such  a  home  is  a  haven  of  salva- 
tion to  the  young  ;  they  realize  the  efficacy 
of  prayer,  in  the  soft  demeanor  of  a  loving 
mother;  they  feel  that  it  is  possible  to 
lead  a  higher  life  than  ambition  can  offer, 
wheij  they  feel  what  serenity  dwells  with 
one  whose  life  is  one  long,  disinterested 
course  of  loving  sacrifice.  Already  they 
begin  to  taste  the  happiness  of  heaven;  to 
realize  that  Mary  more  than  compensates 
for  Eve. 

It  is  difficult  to  say  what  would  be  the 
effect  were  this  holy  influence  abolished. 
Already,  alas  !  have  women  outside  of  the 
Church  consented  to  forego  maternity  by 
a  most  revoltingquellingof  holy  instincts. 
The  desire  to  lead  a  life  of  pleasure,  of 
ease,  of  luxury,  has  penetrated  deep,  deep 
into  the  foundations  of  society.  Woman 
forgets  her  dignity,  forgets  her  salvation, 
even  the  preservation  of  her  earthly 
status,  for  the  merest  chimera  that  ever 
had  power  to  darken  human  intellect  and 
sap  the  foundations  of  the  social  order. 
Home  is  no  longer  a  domestic  temple  where 
Mary  presides  to  watch  the  growth  of  the 
human  form  in  which  the  divine  essence  is 
enshrined.  It  is  a  desecrated  ruin — shel- 
tering no  holiness,  developing  no  spiritual- 
ity, cultivating  no  high  aspirative  love; 


228 


AVE      MARIA 


and  80  woman  rushes  forth  from  its  drear- 
iness, and  mingling  in  the  affray  of  politi- 
cal and  materialistic  strife,  adds  to  the  con- 
fusion wliich  neglect  of  the  culture  of  men's 
higher  qualities  of  soul  has  occasioned  on 
this  dreary  earth. 

[to  be  continued.] 


<  «  ♦  »  » 


Pastoral  Letter  of  Most  Rot.  F.  N.  Blan- 
chet,  D.  D.,  Archbishop  of  Oregon  City. 


PoBTLAND,  Oregon,         ) 
February  2'ith,  1869.  j 

Editor  Aye  Maria  :  Besides  the  regu- 
lations for  Lent,  there  was  read,  on  Quin- 
quagesima  Sunday,  Vth  of  February,  in 
the  cathedral  of  Portland,  Oregon,  a  Pas- 
toral Letter  from  his  Grace,  Archbishop 
Blanchet,  which  may  interest  your  readers. 

It  begins  by  publishing  the  decrees  of 
Second  Plenary  Council  of  Baltimore,  de- 
claring them  to  be  in  force,  and  bind- 
ing both  clergy  and  laity.  It  refers  after- 
wards to  certain  portions  of  this  legisla- 
tion, which  regard  more  especially  the 
laity,  viz.:  certain  dances,  mixed  mar- 
riages, spiritism,  education  of  children, 
schools,  funei'als  and  burials,  divorces, 
collections  for  ecclesiastical  students,  and 
bther  collections.  I  have  but  time  to  give 
you  a  copy  of  the  following  paragraphs: 

Schools.  Having  impressed  upon  the  pa- 
rents the  obligation  which  both  the  natu- 
ral and  divine  law  impose  on  them,  to  pro- 
vide for  the  bodies  and  especially  for 
the  souls  of  the  children  whom  God  has 
given  them,  this  paragraph  terminates 
thus :  "  The  public  schools  are  very  dan- 
gerous to  morals,  because  they  are,  in  gen- 
eral, the  nurseries  of  vice  the  and  prolific 
source  of  the  infidelity  which  now  deluges 
the  United  States  and  Europe.  These 
public  schools  arc  not  only  dangerous  to 
morals,  but  they  arc  also  very  dangerous 
to  religion  and-  faith,  because  they  are  god- 
less schools,  or  schools  in  which  the  chil- 
dren and  attendants  are  never  taught 
their  religious  duties.  For  that  reason, 
public  and  godless  schools  are  even  more 


dangerous  than  the  sectarian  ones.  The 
Church  has,  therefore,  good  reason  to  con- 
demn them.  Let  parents  avoid,  therefore, 
as  much  as  possible,  sending  their  children 
to  such  public  and  godless  schools,  where 
their  morals,  religion  and  faith  are  ex- 
posed to  suffer  a  sad  shipwreck,  and  in 
whicli  is  given  a  godless  education  that 
leads  to  indifferentism,  infidelity,  and  athe- 
ism. Let  every  catholic  church  have  its 
own  parochial  school,  where  the  children 
may  learn  the  catechism  and  receive  a  re- 
ligious education.  This  can  be  done  with- 
out difticulty  only  where  the  whole  com- 
munity being  catholic,  has  in  its  hands  the 
power  of  electing,  for  their  district,  cath- 
olic trustees,  whose  imperious  duty  is  to 
choose  catholic  teachers. 

Funerals  and  Burials.  It  is  a  doctrine 
of  our  faith  that  there  is  a  purgatory  or 
middle  place,  in  which  souls  departed 
suffer  the  temporal  punishment  of  their 
sins  for  which  in  life  they  did  not  suffi- 
ciently atone  ;  and  in  which  they  are  so  pu- 
rified as  to  be  worthy  to  appear  in  the 
presence  of  God.  It  is  also  a  doctrine 
of  our  faith  that  the  souls  of  the  faithful 
departed  are  assisted  and  released  by 
prayers  and  the  Holy  Sacrifice  of  the  Mass. 
Hence  the  constant  practice  of  the  catholic 
Church.  In  all  times  and  in  all  places  to 
offer  prayers,  and  especially  the  Holy  Sac- 
rifice of  the  Mass,  for  the  dead,  either  to 
abridge  or  lessen  their  pains.  Hence  also 
her  prescriptions  that  ^iL-isses  for  the  dead 
be  celebrated  on  the  day  of  their  death 
or  burial,  on  the  third,  the  seventh,  the 
thirtieth,  and  the  anniversary  day  of  their 
death.  On  the  day  of  their  death  or  bu- 
rial, with  the  body  present,  torepresentto 
God  their  great  need  in  a  more  striking 
manner;  on  the  third,  because  on  the  third 
day  it  was  that  Christ  rose  from  the  dead ; 
on  the  seventh,  because  the  seventh  is  the 
day  of  the  Lord's  rest;  on  the  thirtieth, 
because  it  is  the  last  day  of  the  month 
since  their  death;  on  the  anniversary,  be- 
cause it  is  the  last  day  of  the  year  after 
their  death. 

Such  are  the  prescriptions  which  the 
catholic  Church,  as  a  most  tender  mother, 


AVE      MARIA. 


229 


has  mailo  for  the  welfare  of  her  de- 
parted children,  whose  souls  her  tender 
love  and  ardent  charity  follow  and  accom- 
pany to  the  next  world,  without  forget- 
ting their  bodies  on  earth.  For,  because 
their  bodies  have  been  the  members  of 
Christ,  the  temples  of  God  and  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  and  the  tabernacles  of  those  im- 
mortal souls  which  God  created  after  His 
own  image  and  likeness,  the  Church  pays 
them  and  gives  them  special  marks  of  re- 
spect and  honor,  by  receiving  them  in  the 
churches,  giving  them  christian  burial 
in  consecrated  ground.  But  the  most 
tender  solicitude  of  the  Church  is  more 
particularly  directed  to  the  souls  of  her 
departed  children  by  Offering  and  recom- 
mending to  be  offered,  at  least  on  the  day 
of  their  burial,  the  great  propitiatory  Vic- 
tim of  the  Holy  Sacrifice  of  the  Mass,  in 
order  to  obtain  for  them  a  place  of  refresh- 
ment, light,  and  everlasting  peace. 

These  prescriptions  of  the  Church  the 
Fathers  of  the  Second  Plenary  Council 
recommend  to  be  carried  into  practice. 
Let  us,  therefore,  imitate  the  zeal  and  pi- 
ety of  the  Church  in  behalf  of  the  dead,  in 
order  to  abridge  or  lessen  the  pains  of 
their  souls.  Let  prayers  be  said,  and 
Masses  celebrated,  at  least  on  the  day  of 
their  burials,  to  assist  and  relieve  the  soul 
of  a  most  dear  and  regretted  mother,  or 
husband,  or  wife,  or  son,  or  friend ;  and 
to  obtain  for  them  a  place  of  refreshment, 
light,  and  everlasting  peace. 

In  reference  to  this  subject,  we  need  a 
great  reform  all  over  the  United  States ; 
for  funerals  and  burials  are  not  what  they 
ought  to  be.  They  are  more  in  the  prot- 
estant  fashion  than  in  the  catholic  manner; 
always  made  in  the  afternoon,  and  never, 
or  very  seldom,  in  the  morning  with  a  fu- 
neral Mass.  All  is  done  for  the  body,  and 
nothing,  or  very  little,  for  the  soul.  All 
want  a  grand  show,  a  large  attendance,  a 
pompous  and  costly  funeral.  Their  mag- 
nificent parade  is  pleasing;  it  gratifies 
to  a  high  degree,  self-love,  vainglory  and 
pride.  But  all  this  pomp  is  of  no  avail  at 
at  all  to  .abridge  or  lessen  the  pains  of  a 
of  a  poor  suffering  soul.     Now  we  ask  it, 


beloved  brethren,  can  there  be  found  in  all 
this  a  grain  of  faith  in  a  purgatory;  a 
sign  of  gratitude,  piety  and  tender  love 
for  the  soul  of  a  most  dear  and  regretted 
relative?  Does  it  not  seem  that  the 
belief  in  a  purgatory  is  lost?  that  the 
souls  of  our  departed  relations  and  friends 
need  no  prayers,  no  Mass,  to  obtain  for 
them  a  place  of  refreshment,  light  and 
peace?  The  Fathers  of  the  Second  Plen- 
ary Council  ardently  desire  a  reform  with 
regard  to  funerals  and  burials, — less  pomp, 
and  more  true  piety  towards  the  souls  of 
the  faithful  departed. 

Divorce.  It  is  a  doctrine  of  our  faith,  in 
the  catholic  Church,  that  marriage  is  in- 
dissoluble ;  for,  "  What  Ood  hath  joined 
together,  let  no  man  put  asunder,''"'  says  our 
Lord  (St.  Matt.,  xix,  6).  There  may  be, 
indeed,  cases  in  which  one  of  the  two 
parties  may  have  good  reason  to  be  sep- 
arated from  bed  and  habitation  only,  but 
never  for  the  dissolution  of  the  marriage 
bond.  In  catholic  countries  the  civil  law 
provides  for  such  cases,  and  the  Church 
permits  it,  provided  the  bond  of  marriage  re- 
main in  full  force.  In  the  United  States 
and  some  other  countries,  the  civil  law 
does  not  provide  for  such  a  separation 
from  bed  and  habitation  only;  but  in  cer- 
tain cases  determined  by  the  civil  law,  it 
grants  a  full  divorce,  permitting  the  par- 
ties so  divorced  to  contract  a  new  marriage. 
The  holy  catholic  Church  disapproves  and 
condemns  such  divorces,  declaring  them 
null,  and  the  parties  so  divorced,  whether 
protestants  or  catholics,  unable  to  marry 
again,  because  of  the  indissolubility  of 
their  first  marriage.  Therefore,  if  a  cath- 
olic, having  good  reason  for  obtaining  a 
separation  from  bed  and  habitation  only, 
is  obliged,  to  obtain  it,  to  have  recourse 
to  a  civil  court,  which  grants  a  full  di- 
vorce, let  that  catholic  understand  that  he 
cannot  do  it,  unless  with  the  most  true, 
the  most  sincere,  and  the  most  firm  inten- 
tion and  resolution  of  never  using  the 
privilege  of  marrying  again  granted  by  the 
civil  court.  For  if  any  catholic,  divorced 
by  a  civil  court,  shall  dare  to  marry  again 
a  free  or  any  divorced  person;  or  if  any 


230 


AVE     MARIA. 


free  person  shall  dare  to  marry  an  indi- 
vidnal  so  divorced,  let  them  understand 
that,  obeying  the  prescriptions  of  the  Sec- 
ond Plenary  Council  of  Baltimore,  and  in 
order  to  show  the  horror  of  the  Church 
for  such  unlawful  and  wicked  marriages, 
which  are  but  public  concubinages,  we 
declare  them  excommunicated  ipso  facto, 
forbidding  at  the  same  time,  and  under 
the  same  pain,  any  person  to  assist  at,  or 
witness,  or  any  other  Avay  aid  such  mar- 
riages, because  their  assistance  would  en- 
courage a  great  iniquity,  and  render  them 
accomplices.  The  means  to  avoid  many 
unhappy  marriages  would  be  for  the  couple 
to  be  married  to  receive  the  Sacrament  of 
Matrimony  with  pure  and  holy  intentions 
and  dispositions,  and  to  receive  it  in  the 
morning,  assisting  at  that  Mass  which  the 
Church  celebrates  to  bestow,  in  a  special 
manner,  abundance  of  blessings  on  the 
newly-married  couple.  This  holy  practice 
the  Fathers  of  the  Second  Plenary  Council 
most  earnestly  recommend  to  be  observed 
and  carried  on. 

Collection  for  JEJcclesiastical  Students. 
You  know,  beloved  brethren,  that  relig- 
ion was  established,  is  maintained  and  in- 
creased by  the  priesthood  ;  and  that  with- 
out the  priesthood  religion  would  not  ex- 
ist among  you;  and  that  where  there  is 
no  priest  religion  soon  dies  away  and  the 
faithful  soon  lose,  or  expect  to  lose,  their 
faith.  As  our  archdiocese  possesses  no 
diocesan  seminary,  it  is  to  foreign  mis- 
sionary colleges  of  Europe  that  we  must 
look  for  the  training  of  our  clergy.  When 
young  men  are  willing  to  devote  their 
live,  to  the  service  of  our  poor  missions, 
then  we  must  provide  for  their  wants, 
pay  their  board  during  three  or  four 
years,  and  defray  their  expenses  of  educa- 
tion, of  travelling  from  Europe  to  Oregon. 
All  this  has  been  done  from  the  first  es- 
tablishment of  our  holy  religion  in  these 
countries,  thirty  years  ago,  at  the  expense 
of  the  missionary  fund.  If,  therefore,  be- 
loved brethren,  you  have  new  priests  in 
our  archdiocese  to  attend  your  spiritual 
wants,  you  owe  it  entirely  lo  the  liberal 
allocations  we  have  received  from  time  to 


time  from  the  Propagation  of  the  Faith  in 
Europe.  But  now  that  these  allocations 
are  decreasing,  that  our  archdiocese  is 
much  embarrassed  by  debts,  and  that  the 
condition  of  the  country  is  a  great  deal 
better  than  formerly,  it  is  but  just  that  we 
should  begin  to  call  on  you  to  enable  us 
to  support  a  larger  number  of  ecclesias- 
tical students  for  our  diocese,  and  to  bear 
the  expenses  of  their  education  and  pas- 
sage from  Europe  to  this  country.  We 
trust,  therefore,  that  you  will  contribute 
liberally  to  that  good  work,  for  the  main- 
tenance and  propagation  of  our  holy  failh 
and  religion  in  our  archdiocese,  when  you 
are  called  on  for  the  purpose. 

A  Fbieno. 


THE  FLEHinillVGS. 


BT    MBS.    ANNA    H.    DOBSSY. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


Light  out  of  Dabkness. 


She  sat  listening  to  hear  what  he  might 
say,  with  a  dull  dazed  feeling  in  her  head, 
as  if  she  had  received  a  heavy  blow  upon 
it,  wondering  all  the  while  if  that  strong 
energetic  will  and  intelligent  mind,  to 
which  she  had  been  Avont  to  look  as  to 
something  higher  and  better  than  other 
men's,  were  drifting  into  the  eccentricities 
of  coming  madness,  so  strange  and  ter- 
rible a  thing  was  it  to  her  to  hear  from 
her  husband's  lips  words  which  meant 
something  little  short  of  apostasy.  Then, 
all  the  consequences  of  such  a  fall  swept 
like  a  torrent  through  her  brain  ;  she  saw 
his  jjlace  empty  in  the  sanctuary,  his  "can- 
dlestick taken  away;"  she  saw  him  shunned 
by  old  neighbors  and  friends,  and  instead 
of  being  looked  up  to  by  all  as  a  model  of 
every  manly  and  christianly  excellence, 
she  saw  him  treated  with  cftntempt,  pitied 
with  cold  sneers  by  some,  avoided  as  a 
leper  by  others ;  and  as  the  possibilities  of 
worldly  misfortunes,  dearth  of  prosperity. 


AVE      MARIA. 


231 


and  the  ruin  of  hor  ohiMren^s  prospects 
mingled  gloomily  together  in  her  thoughts, 
8he  felt  Ji  tightness  grasping  her  throat, 
like  the  clutch  of  old  Massasquoi's  bony 
fingers,  almost  suffocating  her.  But  she 
did  not  utter  a  word ;  and  with  her  slim 
little  hands  clasped  tightly  together,  rest- 
ing upon  her  knees,  and  her  handsome 
black  eyes  tlickering  with  the  fever  of  her 
heart,  she  waited,  wondering  if  it  was  in 
the  scope  of  human  ingenuity  to  show 
good  reasons  for  such  backsliding.  She 
had  not  to  wait  long;  for  the  Elder,  after 
glancing  with  grave  but  tender  looks  on 
the  dear  faces,  all  bent  with  anxious  in- 
terest upon  him,  said: 

"  It  is  a  bad  cause  which  can  show  no 
good  reason  to  support  it;  and  while  I  do 
not  seek  to  defend  myself,  which  would 
argue  that  I  doubt  the  justice  of  my  con- 
clusions, I  am  willing  to  explain  to  you, 
my  wife  and  children,  the  cause  of  my  re- 
fusal to  partake  any  more  of  the  Sacrament 
of  the  Lord's  Supper  as  administered 
among  ourselves.  I  am  not  a  learned 
man,  and  have  but  little  knowledge  of 
other  religions  outside  the  sect  in  which 
I  was  bred ;  but  from  a  constant  study  of 
the  scriptures,  doubts  and  troubles  have 
arisen  in  my  mind,  forcing  me  to  the  in- 
evitable conclusion  that  my  religious  opin- 
ions  are    full    of  error  and   deceit " 

Mrs.  Flemming  gasped  for  breath,  and  a 
spot  of  crimson  flamed  out  on  either  cheek, 
while  an  evident  tremor  ran  like  an  elec- 
tric chord  through  the  hearts  of  the  rest ; 
but  no  one  spoke,  and  the  Elder  went  on  : 
"I  will  not  now  go  into  the  history  of  my 
doubts;  some  other  time  wUl  do;  but  I 
will  explain,  as  I  said  before,  why  it  is 
utterly  impossible — unless  I  could  stoop 
to  a  base  hypocrisy — for  me  to  unite  in  a 
rite  which  strikes  me  as  an  audacious 
human  invention  entirely  opposed  to  the 
plain  and  literal  meaning  of  its  divine 
Founder.  To  make  myself  better  under- 
stood, I  wish  you  to  listen  attentively,  not 
losing  a  word,  while  I  read  to  you  the 
sixth  chapter  of  St.  John's  Gospel.*     Then 


What  follows  was  the  genuine  experience  of  iin 


the  Elder,  in  his  clear  cTen  tones,  read* 
slowly  and  impressively,  the  chapter  from 
beginning  to  end — Eva  still  standing  with 
her  arm  resting  upon  his  shoulder,  and  her 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  page  of  the  old  Bible, 
with  its  quaint  illustrations,  from  which 
her  father  read.  When  the  last  word 
dropped  from  his  lips  he  again  looked 
around  him,  and  scanned  with  deep  pity 
in  his  heart  the  countenances  of  those 
near  and  dear  ones,  to  whose  hearts  he 
well  knew  he  was  bringing  grief  and  dis« 
quiet.  But,  as  we  said  before,  the  Flem- 
mings  were  people  who  let  nothing  ob- 
struct the  working  out  of  a  principle  which 
to  their  mind  was  clearly  right:  and  al- 
though the  Elder  felt  the  first  throes  of 
the  sacrifice  at  hand,  he  went  bravely  on. 
"  The  first  thing,"  he  said,  "  to  be  noticed 
in  this  chapter,  is  the  account  of  the  great 
miracle,  the  most  wonderful  perhaps  that 
the  Saviour  had  yet  wrought;  a  miracle 
which  was  a  manifestation  not  only  of  a 
divine  power,  but  of  a  divine  priesthood — 
and  at  the  same  time  a  figure  and  a 
fact:  the  figure  and  preliminary  prepar- 
ation for  a  great  mystery  which  he  was 
about  to  announce  to  them,  and  a  fact  by 
which  the  physical  hunger  of  five  thousand 
men,  besides  women  and  children,  was 
satisfied  with  material  bread,  which,  blessed 
by  the  Lord,  was  multiplied  by  His  power 
in  the  hands  of  His  apostles,  who  distrib- 
uted it  to  the  multitude.  But  the  carnal- 
minded  Jews  recognized  only  the  fact: 
their  hunger  had  been  appeased  in  a  won- 
derful manner,  and  in  the  first  flush  of 
their  gratitude  they  declared  Him  to  be  a 
great  prophet,  and  would  have  taken  Him 
by  force  and  made  Him  a  king,  had  He  not 
fled  from  them,  concealing  Himself  from 
their  sight;  but  they  «liscerned  neither  the 
divinity  of  His  power  or  the  symbolio 
meaning  of  the  miraculous  feast,  and  cared 
for  no  other  manifestations  from  Him  than 
such  material  ones  as  would  benefit  them- 
selves. 'He  is  a  wonder-worker,'  tliey 
thought,  *  and  can  found  a  rich  and  power- 
intelligent  protestant  mind,  wbo— at  tbe  time— had 
never  lieard  of  tlie  doctriae  of  the  Real  Presence, 
and  we  render  it  in  all  its  simplicity. 


232 


AVE      MARIA 


ful  kingdom,  of  which  wc  shall  be  the 
princes.'  Full  of  such  thoughts,  they  de- 
termined to  follow  Him  the  next  day, 
hoping  to  witness  greater  miracles. 

"  In  the  next  point  there  is  a  hidden  and 
holy  meaning  to  me,  which  seems  separate 
from  the  great  mystery  of  the  mystic  feast 
announced  by  the  Lord,  and  yet  linked  in- 
dissolubly  with  it  iit  the  order  of  faith. 
I  mean  the  appearance  of  the  Saviour 
walking  on  the  stormy  waves  of  the  mid- 
night sea.  His  disciples  had  sought  for 
Him;  and  not  finding  Him,  probably 
thought  He  had  passed  over  to  Caphar- 
naum,  and  *  took  ship'  to  go  thither;  when 
a  storm  arose,  and  coming  out  of  the  dark- 
ness of  the  night,  walking  upon  the  rough 
waves  of  the  sea,  they  beheld  a  form  ad- 
vancing towards  their  ship,  and  they  were 
terrified,  thinking  that  it  was  a  spirit, 
untilHe  spoke:  '  Be  not  afraid.  It  is  I.' 
In  this  miracle  He  revealed  Himself  in  a 
real  and  spiritual  presence,  disguised  by 
the  miraculous  character  of  the  occasion, 
which  was  utterly  at  variance  with  every 
natural  law ;  and  they  did  not  know  Him, 
until  He  said:  '  It  is  I,' — when,  consoled 
and  full  of  joy,  they  took  Him  into  the 
ship ;  a  lesson,  it  seems  to  one,  of  faith  to 
.His  own  disciples,  some  of  whom,  we  shall 
presently  see,  after  all,  turned  back  and 
walked  with  Him  no  more. 

"The  third  point  to  be  considered  is 
His  discourse  on  the  bread  of  life,  in  which 
He  declares  Himself  to  be  the  Son  of  God, 
and  enforces  the  necessity  of '  believing  in 
Him,'  as  a  condition  to  inherit  eternal 
life — meaning  clearly,  from  what  follows, 
a  belief  in  His  doctrines,  especially  in  the 
great  and  mysterious  one  of  the  partaking 
of  His  body  and  blood.* 

"  The  next  day,  the  multitude  who  had 
been  fed — full  of  human  curiosity  and  am- 
bitious designs — sought  for  Jesus;  but 
not  finding  Him,  *  they  took  shipping'  and 
came  across  the  sea  of  Tiberias  to  Caphar- 

*  The  reader  must  keep  in  mind  that  these  im- 
pressions are  tlie  unaided  results  of  an  uiiinstructed 
protestant  experience,  and  the  writer  is  only  trans- 
ferring them  from  a  regularly-kept  journal  to  her 
pages. 


naum,  where  they  found  Him  teaching  in 
the  synagogue.  They  said  tollim:  Rabbi, 
when  camest  Thou  hither  ? 

"Then  Jesus  rclmked  them  saying:  Amen,  amen 
I  say  unto  you,  j'ou  seek  Mc,  not  because  you  have 
seen  miracles,  but  because  you  did  eat  of  the  loaves, 
and  were  fdled.  Labor  not  for  the  mmt  vhich  per- 
MietJi,  but  for  thU  which  endtirtth  unto  eternal  life, 
which  t/ie  Son  of  man  iciU  ffite  you.  For  Him  hath 
God  tlie  Father  sealed. 

"What  shall  we  do,  that  we  may  work  the  works 
of  God  •?  they  said  to  Him. 

"This  is  the  work  of  God,  that  you  believe  in 
Him  whom  He  hath  sent :  Jesus  answered  them. 

"  "What  sign  dost  Thou  show  us  that  we  may  see, 
and  may  believe  Thee?  they  said  therefore  to  Him, 
What  dost  Thou  work  ?  Our  fathers  did  eat  manna 
in  the  desert ;  as  it  is  written  :  He  gave  them  bread 
from  heaven  to  eat. 

"  Amen,  amen  I  say  to  you :  Moses  gave  you  not 
bread  from  heaven ;   but  my  Father  ofveth  you 

THE  TRUE  BREAX)  I'BOM  HEAVEN  :    JeSUS  said  UntO 

them. 

"  Lord !  give  us  always  this  bread !  they  besought 
Him. 

"  I  AM  THE  BREAD  OP  i^iFE :  he  that  cometh  to 
Me  shall  not  hunger;  and  he  that  belieteth  in  Me, 
shall  never  thirst :  Jesus  said  to  them.  But  I  said 
to  you,  that  you  also  have  seen  Me,  and  do  not  be- 
lieve. All  that  the  Father  giveth  Me  shall  come  to 
Me ;  and  him  that  cometh  to  Me  I  will  not  cast  out : 
Because  I  came  down  from  heaven,  not  to  do  my 
own  will,  but  the  will  of  Him  that  sent  Me.  T^ovr 
this  is  the  will  of  the  Father  who  sent  Me,  that  of 
all  he  hath  given  Me,  I  shall  lose  nothing,  but 
should  raise  it  up  again  at  the  last  day.  And  this 
is  the  will  of  my  Father  that  sent  Me ;  that  every 
one  that  seeth  the  Son  and  bclieveth  in  Him,*  may 
have  everlasting  life,  and  I  will  raise  him  up  on  the 
last  day.^' 

"Then  the  Jews" — still  discerning  nothing  be- 
yond their  carnal  ideas — murmured  at  Him,  not  be- 
cause He  had  said  He  was  the  Son  of  the  Father, 
but  because  He  said:  I  am  the  living  bread  which 
came  down  from  Heaven.  "  And  they  said :  Is  not 
this  Jesus  the  son  of  Joseph,  whose  Father  and 
Mother  we  know?  How  then  saith  he,  I  came 
down  from  heaven. 

"Murmur  not  among  yourselves,"  Jesus  an- 
swered and  sjiid  unto  them :  "  No  man  can  come 
to  Me,  except  the  Father,  who  hatli  sent  Me,  draw 
him :  t  and  I  will  raise  him  up  at  the  last  day.    It  is 

•  Receiving  Him  in  the  Blessed  Sacrament. 

\  Not  bj'  compulsion,  nor  by  laying  the  free-will 
under  any  necessity,  but  by  the  strong  sweet  mo- 
tions of  heavenly  grace. 


AVE      MARIA 


233 


written  In  the  prophets :  And  Ihcy  shall  all  be  taught 
of  God.  Every  one  that  halli  heard  of  the  Father, 
and  hnth  learned  cometli  to  Me.  Not  that  any 
man  hath  seen  the  Father,  but  ho  M-ho  is  of  God, 
he  hath  seen  the  Father.  Amen,  amen  I  say  unto 
you :  he  tlutt  Mieteth  in  Mr,  hnth  etertuU  life" 

"Now,"  said  the  Elder,  looking  out  of 
his  grave  gentle  eyes  with  unspeakable 
love  upon  them  all,  as  they  sat  reverently 
list<?ning,  "we  hear  how  solemnly  and 
emphatically  lie  declares,  over  and  again, 
His  divinity,  in  calling  Himself  *  the  Son 
of  the  Father,'  who  '  had  seen  the  face  of 
the  Father,'  *  who  had  been  sent  to  do  the 
will  of  the  Father,'  and  so  on;  and  how 
He  ifisists  on  their  believing  in  Him  as  a 
primary  and  absolute  condition  to  their  in- 
inheriting  eternal  life.  Do  we  believe  Him 
to  be  the  Son  of  the  Father,  or  do  we  not?" 

"  We  believe  that !  How  can  any  one, 
who  believes  the  Bible  at  all,  doubt  that?" 
said  Mrs.  Fleraming  quickly.  "  And  be- 
lieving that  He  is  the  Son  of  God,  and  our 
Redeemer  who  died  for  our  salvation,  is 
enough.  It  is-  all  that  is  required  of  us. 
God  is  not  pleased  with  subtleties." 

"  No ;  God  is  not  pleased  with  subtle- 
ties," said  the  Elder  in  his  calm,  quiet 
way.  "And  it  seems  to  me,  from  what 
follows,  that  something  more  than  a  per- 
sonal and  historical  belief  in  Him  is  nec- 
essary. This  belief  must  embrace  the 
acceptance  of  His  doctrines.  The  devils 
themselves — as  we  are  told  in  holy  writ — 
believe  and  tremble,  but  their  belief  is 
without  profit;  therefore  He  must  have 
had  a  deeper  meaning  in  exhorting  them 
to  believe  in  Him  than  is  now  apparent. 
There  are  no  half-way  doings  with  God. 
We  must  believe  entirely  not  only  in  His 
existence,  but  in  His  law  revealed  to  us 
by  Jesus  Christ  His  Son. 

[to  nK  CONTINUED.] 


The  longest  life  is  not  always  the  best, 
but  that  is  the  best  which  has  been  spent 
in  the  service  of  God ;  remember  what  the 
prophet  says :  "  Wo  is  me,  that  my  so- 
journing is  prolonged  !  I  have  dwelt  with 
the  inhabitants  of  darkness  /  my  soul  hath 
been  long  a  sojourner." — St.  F.  de  Sales. 


Ri^bt  Rev.  Bishop  Hennl. 

On  the  occasion  of  the  celebration  of 
the  twenty -fifth  anniversary  of  the  conse- 
cration of  Rt.  Rev.  Bishop  Henni,  the  fol- 
lowing short  sketch  of  his  life  and  labors 
appeared  in  the  Milwaukee  Sentinel^  which 
a  kind  friend  has  sent  us.  May  the  Rt. 
Rev.  Prelate,  who  has  now  completed  St. 
Peter's  years  in  Rome,  leave  his  succes- 
sors to  the  see  of  Milwaukee  full  double  the 
number  of  years  that  St.  Peter  left  to  his. 

The  twenty-fifth  anniversary  of  Bishop 
John  Martin  Henni's  consecration  as  Bish- 
op of  the  Diocese  of  Wisconsin  was  cel- 
ebrated in  an  imposing  manner  on  the 
19th  of  March.  For  weeks  the  subject 
of  the  ovation  in  honor  of  the  beloved 
head  of  the  Church  had  interested  not  only 
churchmen,  but  citizens  without  regard 
to  religious  inclinations.  The  important 
services  of  the  distinguished  prelate — who 
was  the  first  German  bishop  consecrated 
in  America — his  untiring  zeal  in  behalf  of 
the  Church,  his  courteous  and  gentlemanly 
bearing  toward  those  with  whom  he  came 
in  contact — all  conspired  to  create  a  lively 
interest  in  the  ceremonies  of  the  occasion. 
His  administration  of  the  temporal  and 
spiritual  welfare  of  his  important  trust  has 
been  successful  in  a  remarkable  degree,  if 
the  number  of  adherents  and  the  magnifi- 
cent buildings  erected  by  the  Church  are 
indications  of  prosperity;  and  we  think 
they  are.  The  following  sketch  of  the  life 
and  services  of  the  worthy  bishop  will  not 
be  out  of  place  in  this  connection: 

nrsiiop  iiEXNi's  life  and  times. 

Bishop  Henni  was  born  in  Upper  Sax- 
ony, Canton  Graubunden,  Switzerland,  on 
the  16th  of  June,  1805,  and  is  consequently 
sixty-four  years  of  age.  He  commenced 
his  studies  in  St.  Gallen  and  Luzern,  and 
upon  his  graduation  proceeded  to  Rome. 
Here  he  very  fortunately  met  the  first 
Bishop  of  Cincinnati,  Edward  Fenwick,  , 
who  was  on  a  visit  to  the  Holy  See.  He 
needed  young  workers  in  his  flourishing 
vineyard  in  the  new  world,  and  was  not 


234r 


AVE     MARIA. 


long  in  securing  young  Ilenni  to  aid  him 
in  the  work  of  carrying  the  cross  and 
civilization  into  the  wilds  of  America. 
With  his  friend^  Martin  Kundig,  who 
was  also  studying  in  Rome,  he  crossed  the 
sea  and  arrived  in  Baltimore  in  1829.  Af- 
ter a  short  stay  in  that  city  he,  in  company 
with  several  other  candidates  for  holy 
orders,  proceeded  to  a  seminary  in  Bards- 
town  to  prepare  for  ordination.  In  the  fol- 
lowing year  they  were  ordained  to  the 
priesthood  by  Bishop  Fcnwick.  After 
officiating  for  a  time  in  St.  Peter's  church, 
in  Cincinnati,  he  was  transferred  to  Canton, 
Ohio,  where  he,  in  company  with  another 
priest,  performed  arduous  missionary  duties 
between  that  town  and  Lake  Erie. 

While  Bishop  Fenwick  was  returning 
from  a  visit  to  the  missionary  stations  in 
this  State,  he  was  stricken  with  sickness 
in  the  neighboring  town  of  Wooster.  Rev. 
Mr.  Henni  hastened  to  minister  to  the 
wants  of  his  sick  patron,  but  too  late;  the 
soul  of  his  friend  had  left  its  tenement  of 
clay  for  brighter  worlds  above. 

In  1834  the  first  German  catholic  church 
was  consecrated  in  Cincinnati.  Bishop 
Purcell,  Bishop  Fenwick's  successor,  find- 
ing his  sphere  of  usefulness  enlarged,  soon 
recalled  Rev.  Mr.  Henni  from  Canton, 
and  elevated  him  to  the  important  posi- 
tion of  vicar  general  of  the  See.  In  1835 
he  took  a  tour  to  Europe,  and  upon  his 
return  to  Cincinnati  established  an  orphan 
asylum  and  a  German  catholic  journal — 
the  Wahrheits  Freund — now  one  of  the 
leading  Church  journals  in  the  country. 
The  orphan  asylum — the  St.  Aloysius — is 
still  in  existence,  and  is  one  of  the  oldest 
German  institutions  in  the  United  States. 

On  the  fourth  Sunday  after  Easter,  in 
1843,  a  provincial  council  of  the  bishops 
was  held  in  Cincinnati,  at  which  Very 
Rev.  Mr.  Henni  attended,  and  received  the 
appointment  of  Bishop  of  the  newly-er- 
ected Diocese  of  Milwaukee..  In  the  month 
of  December,  of  the  same  year,  the  nomina- 
tion was  confirmed  by  a  Papal  Bull,  and 
on  the  19th  of  March,  1844,  he  was  conse- 
crated bishop  in  the  old  Xaverius  cathe- 
dral,   in   Cincinnati,  by   Bishop  Purcell, 


assisted  by  Bishops  Miles,  of  Nashville, 
and  O'Connor,  of  Pittsburgh.  On  the  12th 
of  April,  he  started  out  for  his  new  field 
of  usefulness,  accompanied  by  Rev.  Mr. 
Heiss,  now  Bishop  of  La  Crosse,  and  ar- 
rived in  this  city  at  a  late  hour  on  the 
night  of  the  3d  of  May. 

Next  morning  he  was  up  betimes  to 
make  inquiries  in  rel.'ition  to  the  where- 
abouts of  the  catholic  church.  He  was 
conducted  to  the  small  wooden  structure 
known  as  St.  Peter's  church.  This  was  his 
cathedral.  Upon  entering,  he  found  Rev. 
Mr.  Kundig — with  whom  he  had  crossed 
the  sea  years  before — celebrating  Mass  at 
the  altar.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  serv- 
ice, he  entered  the  chancel  and  greeted 
the  friend  of  his  youthful  days.  Bishop 
Henni  was  warmly  welcomed  by  the  in- 
habitants of  the  village. 

He  was  not  long  in  discovering  that  the 
diocese  was  as  poor  in  purse  as  his  cathe- 
dral was  in  appearance.  The  bishop  was 
conducted  to  a  small  cottage,  and  had 
hardly  made  a  comfortable  lodgment  ere 
he  received  a  call  from  the  former  landlord, 
who  importuned  him  for  the  balance  due 
on  the  property.  The  bishop  settled  the 
claim,  although  it  left  him  penniless. 

The  next  day  was  Sunday.  The  faithful 
adherents  of  the  Church  had  heard  of  the 
.arrival  of  their  bishop,  and  before  the  hour 
for  service  had  arrived,  the  little  cathedral 
was  filled  to  its  utmost  capacity.  At  that 
time,  the  entire  number  of  catholics  in  the 
village  and  its  surroundings  did  not  num- 
ber two  thousand.  The  entire  diocese 
numbered,  probably,  not  over  eight  thou- 
sand inhabitants.  There  were  but  five  or 
six  priests  in  the  territory,  who  officiated 
in  block  houses,  except  Prairie  du  Chien, 
where  the  work  of  erecting  a  substantial 
stone  edifice  was  commenced — in  the  hope 
that  the  bishop  would  locate  at  that  point. 

In  the  following  month  of  August  he 
paid  his  first  visit  to  Green  Bay,  and  thence 
called  on  the  Menomonee  Indians,  on 
Wolf  River,  and,  after  a  weary  journey, 
reached  the  Chippewa  Indians,  at  LiwPointe, 
Lake  Superior,  where  Father  Frederick  Ba- 
raga had  established  a  flourishing  mission. 


AVE     MARIA 


236 


Under  the  able  management  of  the 
bishop  the  diocese  began  to  improve  both 
in  numbers  and  prosperity.  Iinmignition 
was  setting  in,  and  the  church  increased 
in  communicants  until  it  was  found  neces- 
sary to  erect  a  larger  place  of  worship. 
St.  Mary's  church  was  built  and  conse- 
crated during  the  summer  of  1847.  The 
number  of  priests  had  also  increased  to 
thirty,  and  in  the  fall  of  the  same  year  the 
corner-stone  of  the  cathedral  was  laid,  with 
imposing  ceremonies.  At  the  instance  of 
the  worthy  bishop  a  hospital  had  also  been 
founded,  and  the  Sisters  of  Charity  invited 
to  take  charge  of  it. 

Seeing  his  labors  blessed  with  success, 
he  concluded  to  visit  Rome  and  inform 
the  Pope  personally  in  relation  to  the  pros- 
perity of  the  diocese,  and  collect  aid  to 
carry  out  the  missionary  work  so  ably 
begun.  He  accordingly  left  in  January, 
1848,  and  reached  France  just  as  the  revo- 
lution took  place  in  that  country  and  car- 
ried its  baleful  influence  through  Germany 
and  Italy.  The  serious  aspect  of  affairs 
throughout  Europe  caused  him  to  post- 
pone his  original  intentions,  which,  if  car- 
ried out,  would  have  resulted  in  his  being 
kept  from  his  diocese  for  a  long  time. 
This  change  in  his  plans,  however,  gave 
him  time  to  visit  his  birth-place.  He  found 
his  parents  were  dead.  The  reception  of 
the  bishop  by  the  villagers  was  a  most 
agreeable  one.  He  called  upon  his  former 
teacher.  Bishop  Mirer,  of  St.  Gallen,  and 
met  Bishops  Vikar,  of  Sweden,  and  Stubach, 
also  a  Switzer. 

When  Bishop  Henni  returned  he  was 
received  with  great  enthusiasm  by  the 
people  of  his  diocese.  The  work  on  the 
cathedral  was  suspended,  in  order  that 
the  funds  might  go  to  the  erection  of  an 
orphan  asylum.  A  building  was  also  pur- 
chased for  the  School  Sisters,  and  an  as- 
sociation of  three  Franciscan  orders  set- 
tled below  what  is  now  Bay  View,  and 
founded  the  seminary  at  that  point.  St. 
Gall's  church  was  also  erected  for  the  ac- 
commodation of  the  Irish  catholics,  and 
Trinity  church  for  the  Germans,  who  were 
settling  in  lurge  numbers  on  the  south  side. 


To  secure  means  to  complete  the  cathe- 
dral,  Bishop  Henni  undertook  a  voyage  to 
Mexico  and  Cuba.  In  the  fall  of  1852  it 
was  under  roof,  and  on  the  81  st  of  July  it 
was  consecrated,  on  which  occasion  the 
Papal  Nuncio,  Mgr.  Bedini,  and  other  dig- 
nitaries of  the  Church,  presided. 

In  July,  1855,  the  bishop  laid  the  cor- 
ner-stone of  the  new  seminary  building 
near  Bay  View,  and  early  in  1856  the 
building  was  so  far  completed  that  thirty- 
three  students  were  admitted.  The  year 
of  1860  saw  it  free  from  indebtedness,  and 
one  hundred  and  twenty-five  students  and 
candidates  for  holy  orders  domiciled  with- 
in its  walls.  Adjoining  the  building  are 
two  orphan  asylums  and  a  monastery  of 
Franciscan  monks.  Although  one  of  the 
largest  religious  institutions  in  the  coun- 
try, its  capacity  is  inadequate,  and  ar- 
rangements are  being  made  for  its  en- 
largement. 

In  the  city,  the  School  Sisters,  under 
the  superioress,  Maria  Caroline  Fries, 
added  extensive  wings  to  their  already 
capacious  building.  It  is  the  "  mother 
house"  of  the  order,  from  which  school- 
mistresses are  sent  out  throughout  the 
length  and  breadth  of  the  land.  This 
convent  is  at  the  head  of  fifty-four  branch 
mission  houses  in  the  several  dioceses  in 
the  United  States.  There  are  four  hun- 
dred Sisters  in  the  order,  who  educate 
twenty  thousand  children,  and  have  over 
one  thousand  orphans  in  charge. 

The  growth  of  the  Church  was  so  rapid 
that  Bishop  Henni  was  called  upon  to 
consecrate  twenty-five  in  one  year.  The 
other  important  institutions  founded  in 
the  diocese  may  be  mentioned  as  follows: 

St.  Aloysius  Academy  for  boys,  Fourtli 
Ward.  Dominican  monastery  at  Sinsinawa 
Mound,  where  an  institution  for  education 
in  the  higher  branches  is  established. 
Capuchin  monastery  at  Calvary  Hill,  Fond 
du  Lac  county.  A  second  institution  of 
the  kind  will  soon  be  established  in  this 
city.  The  Fathers  of  the  Holy  Cross  have 
charge  of  the  educationaL^i^ju^K^^of  the 
institution.  BrothersAjJ^TO NkW"  of 
Franciscans  are  also  /cfinicct(iff  >Atll  the 


236 


AVE      MARIA. 


I 


monastery.  Dominican  convent,  head- 
quarters and  novitiate,  in  Racine.  Sisters 
of  the  Third  Order  of  St.  Dominic,  have 
charge  of  two  academies  in  Lafayette 
county.  Sisters  of  the  Third  Order  of  St. 
Francis  manage  a  day  school  and  an  or- 
phan asylum  at  Jefferson. 

In  addition  to  the  above,  the  Sisters  of 
Love  have  charge  of  a  hospital  and  two 
orphan  asylums,  and  the  Sisters  of  St. 
Agnes  conduct  two  schools.  Bishop 
Henni  has  lived  to  see  his  diocese  of  sev- 
eral thousand  communicants  grow  until 
it  numbers  twenty -five  thousand  catholics — 
two  hundred  and  ninety  churches — ninety 
stations — eleven  private  chapels — and  one 
hundred  and  fifty  priests. 

This  hurried  account  of  the  life  and  serv- 
ices of  the  exemplary  bishop  will  give  our 
readers  a  fair  idea  of  his  labors  in  behalf  of 
the  Church.  The  numerous  charitable  and 
educational  institutions  founded  during 
his  bishopric  will  remain  enduring  monu- 
ments of  his  energy  and  zeal  in  the  cause 
of  religion  and  civilization  long  after  we 
shall  have  passed  away. 


Tbe  CoDYcnt  Case. 


Our  readers  have  most  likely  heard  a 
great  deal  of  the  Convent  Case,  in  which 
a  Miss  Saurin,  who  for  some  time  had  been 
a  Sister  of  Mercy,  sued  Mrs.  Kennedy  and 
Mrs.  Star,  for  assault,  imprisonment,  libel 
and  conspiracy.  The  case  lasted  many 
days,  and  the  Chief  Judge  was  seven  hours 
in  summing  up  the  evidence. 

After  reading  the  misrepresentations 
and  silly  comments  of  the  protestant  press, 
it  is  worth  our  while  to  give  an  extract 
from  a  sensible  article  that  has  appeared 
in  a  protestant  paper  in  England,  the 
Leeds  Mercury. 

"  The  great  convent  case  has  at  length 
been  disposed  of.  We  cannot  pretend 
that  its  greatness  has  consisted  in  anything 
but  itjKttttlk.* ,It  was  in  quality  a  poor,  at- 
tentfawdThui^^a  mere  empty  bag  swelled 
out/iJvo  ilhllooVlike  proportions  by  the 
-J 


religious  gas  blown  into  it.  Had  it  not 
been  supposed  that  some  savory  scandal 
would  be  brought  on  to  the  table  connected 
with  the  convent  system,  no  sort  of  inter- 
est could  have  attached  to  the  inquiry,  and 
since  it  has  not  dished  up  any  such  sweet 
morsel  to  roll  under  the  protestant  tongue, 
a  more  insipid  affair  it  is  difficult  to  con- 
ceive. A  protestant  jury  has  been  obliged 
to  admit  that  the  greater  part  of  the  charges 
are  simply  frivolous,  and  has  found  for  the 
defendant  on  these  points.  We  confess 
our  own  sense  of  justice  would  have  been 
better  satisfied  if  a  verdict  had  been  re- 
turned nominally  or  substantially  in  their 
fiivor  on  the  charge  of  conspiracy  also, 
and  had  the  twelve  gentlemen  in  the  box 
been  able  to  throw  off  all  protestant  feel- 
ing in  considering  their  verdict,  we  sus- 
pect that  such  would  have  been  their  de- 
cision. As  it  is  they  have  decided  that 
Mrs.  Star,  Mrs.  Kennedy,  the  bishop,  and 
some  other  persons  have  conspired  to  do 
some  injury  to  Miss  Saurin.  But  what 
have  they  done?  They  have  refused  to  let 
her  remain  in  a  convent.  This  is  really 
all.  It  is  true  they  were  charged  with  cer- 
tain acts  of  violence  and  cruelty  to  turn 
her  out.  But  these  we  need  not  discuss, 
because  they  proved  to  be  so  trivial  in  their 
character  that  the  jury  found  a  verdict  for 
the  defendants  on  these  points.  The 
whole  accusation,  therefore,  dwindles  down 
to  this,  that  they  wished  to  get,  and  at 
length  did  get.  Miss  Saurin  out  of  the  con- 
vent against  her  own  will.  Now,  although, 
looking  at  the  thing  in  a  protestant  light, 
this  might  seem  no  great  injury,  we  must, 
of  course,  regard  it  in  the  light  in  which  it 
w^ould  strike  a  Roman  catholic,  either  Miss 
Saurin  herself  or  Mrs.  Star,  or  anybody 
else  holding  their  views  about  conventual 
life.  And  in  this  light  we  may  admit  that 
a  wrong  was  actually  done  if  the  attempt 
to  turn  out  Miss  Saurin  was  not  justified 
by  something  in  her  own  conduct.  Here, 
then,  is  the  real  question  at  issue.  Did 
Miss  Saurin  so  conduct  herself  as  to  render 
herself  justly  liable  to  be  turned  out  of  the 
convent?  Now  any  sensible  person  will 
see  that  a  convent  must  have  rules,  and 


^     J- J 


AVE     MARIA. 


237 


that  obedience  to  these  riries  is  essential  to 
the  gootl  government  antl  peace  anil  order 
of  the  coinamnity.  If  these  rules  are  new, 
if  they  take  the  inmates  by  surprise,  if 
Sisters  enter  in  the  expectation  of  finding 
one  set  of  regulations  and  are  then  re- 
(inired  to  submit  to  another,  then  it  is  clear 
that  fraud  is  practised,  and  that  disobe- 
dience to  the  unanticipated  rules  ought 
not  to  subject  the  transgressor  to  any  pen- 
alty. But  in  the  present  case  it  is  not  pre- 
tended that  the  rules  in  force  were  other 
than  those  explained  to  Miss  Saurin  when 
she  entered  the  convent. 

The  question  is  then,  did  Miss  Saurin 
conform  to  these  rules?  The  evidence 
makes  it  abundantly  clear  that  she  was  at 
war  with  the  Sisterhood  ;  that  she  levelled 
accusations  against  them  which,  so  far  as 
they  have  been  investigated,  have  proved 
perfectly  untrue ;  that  she  contrived  to  ex- 
cite a  general  feeling  against  herself  for 
some. reason  or  other;  that  she  did  not  ad- 
here to  rules  ;  that  she  constantly  grum- 
bled in  violation  of  her  vows — in  fact,  that 
she  was  utterly  unfit  for  her  position  as  a 
Sister  in  a  convent  subject  to  the  strict 
laws  of  self-abnegation  insisted  npon  at 
Hull.  She  had  the  wish  to  be  a  nun,  but 
not  the  devotion  and  self-sacrifice  neces- 
sary for  such  a  position.  It  was  as  desir- 
able for  herself  as  for  the  nunnery  that  she 
should  cease  to  occupy  a  position  for  which 
she  was  manifestly  so  little  suited,  and  in 
which  she  neither  enjoyed  happiness  her- 
self nor  permitted  others  to  do  so  either. 
We  have  no  doubt  there  was  a  conspiracy 
to  turn  her  oat,  but  it  was  a  perfectly  law- 
ful conspiracy  to  do  an  act  as  serviceable 
to  her  as  necessary  to  the  order  of  the 
convent.  We  confess  we  regret  a  verdict 
which  seems  to  us  to  be  dictated  rather  by 
protestant  prejudice  than  by  impartial 
justice." 

Father  Porter,  S.  J.,  whoso  name  ap- 
peared prominently  on  the  trial,  spoke  to 
his  congregation,  in  the  church  of  St. 
Francis  Xavier,  Salisbury  Street,  Liver- 
pool, concerning  the  case.  Coming  to  the 
ridiculous  twaddle  of  protestant  papers  in 
England, — tw.addle  that  has  been  repeated 


in  this  country, — he  said  a  few  words, 
which  we  cannot  refrain  from  giving: 
**  It  is  said  that  all  the  poetry  is  taken  away 
from  convent  life — that,  after  all,  it  turns 
out  to  be  a  very  commonplace  sort  of  af- 
fair, in  which  a  number  of  persons  choose 
to  leave  their  own  families,  and  do  the 
work  of  serving  maids ;  that  there  is  no 
poetry  in  it  at  all ;  that  it  is  tame  and  pro- 
saic ;  and  that  the  ladies  chose  to  give  np 
their  position  in  life,  and  adopt  the  occu- 
pations and  j»erhaps  the  thoughts  of  me- 
nial servants.  It  is  true  that  the  poetry  of 
convent  life — that  is  to  say,  the  protestant 
poetry  of  convent  life — is  gone,  which  im- 
agined a  nun  to  be  walking  about  idle, 
with  her  hands  in  her  sleeves,  her  eyes  de- 
murely cast  down,  her  silence  broken  some- 
times by  the  convent  bell,  or  by  a  visit 
from  an  admiring  friend  or  some  unfortu- 
nate wretch  saved  from  starvation,  and  per- 
haps from  the  degradation  of  sin.  All 
poetry  is  gone  when  you  come  to  view  a 
tame,  prosaic  life — a  life  of  toil  and  of 
drudgery,  and  of  hard  labor,  and  of  strict 
regularity — a  life  in  which  ladies  of  good 
birth,  by  th.eir  own  free  choice,  subject 
themselves  to  the  will  of  a  superior — going 
to  rest  at  a  signal,  rising  at  a  signal,  as- 
sembling at  prayer  on  a  signal,  spending 
the  hours  in  toil  and  labor.  From  9  o'clock 
in  the  morning  till  4  in  the  afternoon,  the 
occupation  of  the  great  majority  of  the 
community  is  the  instruction  of  the  poor, 
and  a  crowded  poor  school  is  a  very  pro- 
saic matter.  The  nuns  are  women,  and 
they  must  use  women's  tools  and  women's 
instruments.  Their  conventmust be  clean, 
and  should  be  tidy  and  spotless,  and  for 
cleanliness  there  must  be  scrubbing,  for 
sewing  there  must  be  needles  and  thim- 
bles, and  needles  and  thimbles  and  scrub- 
bing all  seem  very  prosaic.  It  is  very 
prosy  to  rise  at  5  in  the  morning,  and  to 
give  an  hour  to  meditation  before  hearing 
Mass.  It  is  very  prosy  to  spend  some  six 
or  seven  hours  in  a  schoolroom  in  the  most 
wearisome  task  of  teaching  thoughtless 
children.  It  is  very  prosy  to  go  home  to  as- 
semble— not,  as  one  of  the  papers  says,  ata 
social  meal,  at  which  the  Sisters  exchange 


288 


AVE       MARIA. 


their  experiences,  and  congratulate  each 
other  on  their  successes,  and  animate  each 
other  for  the  labors  of  the  coining  day,  and 
then  retire  to  rest — it  is  very  prosy,  in- 
stead of  that,  to  assemble  to  a  plain  dinner, 
and  eat  it  in  silence  broken  only  by  the 
reading  of  a  pious  book.  It  is  very  prosy 
to  take  a  short  hour  for  recreation  and  con- 
versation, spending  the  hour,  perhaps,  in 
making  clothes  for  the  poor,  or  in  work- 
ing an  altar  cloth.  It  is  very  prosy  to 
close  such  a  day  with  some  devotional  ex- 
ercise— very  prosy  to  put  out  the  light  at 
an  appointed  hour;  but  when  the  veil  is 
thus  torn  away,  you  see  the  poetry  that 
gilds  such  a  life  and  gives  it  glory,  and 
you  honor,  more  than  ever  you  honored 
before,  the  Sisters  of  Mercy.  You  thought 
of  them  before  as  ministering  angels,  but 
it  never  entered  into  your  minds  to  inquire 
how  the  day  was  broken  up — what  portion 
of  the  day  was  passed  in  recreation,  and 
how  they  unbended  themselves  from  this 
stern  hard  toil.  You  never  thought  of 
that.  You  honored  them  for  their  minis- 
try of  love,  but  now  you  know  them  hour 
by  hour  and  day  by  day.  You  watch  them 
through  their  shortened  lives  to  their  early 
graves,  and  you  think  more  of  the  poetry 
of  religious  life.  It  is  the  privilege  ahd 
duty  of  our  sex  to  confront  dangers  and 
to  bear  toil,  and  to  make  sacrifices,  but  for 
gentle  women  to  enter  upon  this  work — for 
them  to  leave  the  sphere  of  dignified  leis- 
ure for  slavish  toil,  for  the  love  of  Jesus 
Christ,  is  most  heroic,  most  glorious,  and 
you  honor  it  the  more  now  that  you  know 
and  understand  what  that  life  implies  and 
what  it  involves.  For  you  the  poetry  is 
not  gone — for  you  that  prosy  round  of  labor 
becomes  more  glorious.  I  will  venture  to 
say  that  if,  in  your  walks  through  the  town, 
you  have  sometimes  met  those  angels  of 
God,  and  blessed  them  as  they  passed,  your 
eyeswillnowfollowthem,  and  your  soul  will 
reverence  them  more  and  love  them  more, 
and  you  will  wish  to  serve  those  noble 
ladies  who  dare  do  so  much  for  God  and 
the  salvation  of  souls.  The  poetry  of  con- 
vent life  gone?  No;  not  the  true  poetry 
that  renders  dear  to  our  hearts  true  and 


real  heroism — the  roost  noble  sacrifice  of 
self  and  the  most  generous  devotion  to  the 
serv  ice  of  others." — Liverpool  Daily  Post. 


[Communicated.] 

Religions  Reception. 


Maxchkster,  N.  n.-^In  the  beautiful 
chapel  of  Our  Lady  of  Mercy  the  interest- 
ing ceremony  of  reception  took  place, 
on  Friday  evening  the  12th  inst.  The 
Right  Rev.  Bishop  gave  the  habit  of  the 
Order  of  Mercy  and  white  veil  to  Miss 
Annie  Winters,  in  religion  Sister  Mary 
Raptista;  Miss  Margaret  Isabel  O'Mally, 
Sister  M.  Stanislaus;  Miss  Bertha  McDon- 
ald, Sister  Mary  Genevieve ;  ISIiss  Marga- 
ret Hynes,  Sister  Mary  Borgia;  3Iiss  Mar- 
garet Donohoe,  Sister  Mary  Raymond; 
Miss  Bridget  Mullen,  Sister  Mary  Marga- 
ret. 

The  Right  Rev.  Bishop  preached  an  elo- 
quent and  appropriate  sermon  on  the  oc- 
casion. 


[Commnnicfited.] 

Obituary. 


Died,  March  IGth,  with  the  Sisters  of 
Mercy,  Ottawa,  111.,  in  the  78th  year  of 
her  age,  Mrs.  Axn  McGirr,  relict  of  the 
late  Dr.  P.  JNIcGier,  formerly  of  Youngs- 
town,  Pa.     May  she  rest  in  peace.     Amen. 

Calm  on  the  bosom  of  thy  God, 
Sweet  spirit,  rest  thee  now ; 
They  who  have  seen  thy  face  in  death 
No  more  need  fear  to  die. 


It  would  be  well  if  all  Americans  fol- 
lowed the  example  of  Scotchmen  in  the  fol- 
lowing case: 

"  It  is  a  curious  fact  that  although  Scotch- 
men, as  a  rule,  diflfer  from  us  in  matters  of 
faith  much  more  than  Englishmen,  they 
write  about  us  in  their  journals  with  more 
respect,  and  abstain  from  the  petty  spite 
of  calling  us  names.  Thus  the  Scotchman^ 
the  Elgin  Coiirant,  and  other  north  coun- 
try papers  that  have  lately  been  writing 
about  the  death  of  Bishop  Kyle,  the  con- 


AVE     MARIA 


239 


necration  of  Bishop  M.icdonald,  and  the 
advtMit  of  Archbishop  Eyre,  speak  of  us  :m 
we  are  spokc-n  of  throughout  the  civilized 
worKl,  8!ive  only  by  some  Englishmen  in 
Enghwul,  and  call  us  by  our  right  name, 
which  is  that  of  "  catholic."  Not  so 
those  who  ape  us  most — those  who  play  at 
popery  without  the  Pope.  In  the  columns 
of  their  journals  we  are  always  designated 
as  "Romanists,"  "  Ultramontanes,"  the 
"  Roman  Obedience,"  and  such  like  terms, 
all  showing — as  wo  have  before  now 
pointed  out  in  these  columns — nnich  the 
same  dislike  to  the  Church  that  the  mon- 
key has  to  the  man. — London  Register. 


CJhildren's  Department. 


THE  FISDERMAN'S  CHILDREN; 

OR, 

The  Reward  of  Hospitality. 

[TrauUt«d  from  the  French  for  the  An  Maua.J 
DY    L.    E.    M'L. 


[COXTIXUKD.] 

"  How  old  .ire  you,  my  child?" 

"  Eleven  years,  sir,  going  on  twelve." 

"And  your  sister?" 

"  Thirteen  years." 

Marie  now  dried  her  tears,  placed  more 
fuel  on  the  fire,  and  was  able  to  answer 
the  questions  of  the  stranger. 

"  You  were  brave,  my  dear  children,  to 
open  the  door  to  a  stranger." 

"  We  seldom  have  occasion  to  render  a 
service,"  said  the  young  girl  in  a  trem- 
ulous voice,  "  and  our  father  has  told  us 
many  a  time  that  we  shoald  seize  every 
opportunity  of  making  others  happy  and 
rendering  ourselves  useful." 

"I  thank  heaven  for  having  led  me 
astray  in  these  woods,"  said  the  stranger 
with  lively  emotion;  "for  without  this 
accident  I  should  never  have  had  the  hap- 
piness of  knowing  you.  I  shall  be  obliged 
to  leave  here  at  d.aybreak,  but  I  shall  re- 
turn again  and  endeavor  to  prove  to  you 
the  depth  of  my  gratitude." 


Marie  left  the  room  for  an  instant,  and 
soon  returned  to  announce  to  their  gnest 
that  his  bed  was  ready.  Stephen  took  a 
lamp  and  conducted  him  to  an  adjoining 
chamber,  where  two  poor  but  neat  beds 
were  prepared.  It  wat*  there  that  the 
father  and  cousin  of  the  little  children 
reposed  when  at  home,  Stephen  informed 
the  stranger,  to  whom  he  assigned  Ger- 
main's bed.  His  sister  had  spread  white 
sheets  upon  it,  and  rendered  it  quite  com- 
fortable. After  performing  the  little  ser- 
vices appropriate  to  the  occasion,  Stephen 
wished  the  traveller  good  night  and  re- 
turned to  his  sister. 

"  Marie,"  said  he,  "  I  am  well  pleased 
that  you  had  the  courage  to  open  the  door 
to  this  good  gentleman.  Indeed  he  is  no 
robber,  for  he  prays  to  God  like  an  angel." 

Marie  smiled  at  this  reflection,  and  both 
occupied  themselves  for  the  remainder  of 
the  night  in  drying  the  traveller's  cloak 
and  praying  for  their  father. 

D.ay  had  scarcely  began  to  dawn  before 
the  gnest  of  the  cottage  was  up.  He  took 
breakfast  with  his  new  friends,  and  in- 
quired of  them  the  shortest  route  to  the 
place  whither  pressing  affairs  called  him. 
He  then  took  leave  of  the  two  children; 
and  promising  to  return  and  see  them,  he 
put  spur  to  his  horse  and  ft>l lowed  the 
road  that  bordered  the  sea. 

The  rain  continued  unabated  during  the 
day.  At  sunset  the  clouds  were  still  gath- 
ering, and  everything  betokened  a  night 
similar  to  the  preceding  one,  and  bore  fresh 
agonies  to  the  hearts  of  the  fisherman's 
sad  children.  They  did  not  wish  to  lie 
down.  Marie  had  prayed  a  long  time,  and 
Stephen  with  her;  now  she  read,  while  her 
brother  slept  with  his  head  on  her  lap. 

Fidele,  the  guardian  of  the  cottage,  had 
lefl  his  ordiuai-y  place,  taken  up  his  sta- 
tion near  the  door,  and  from  lime  to  time 
sadly  moaned.  Marie  called  him  in  a  low 
voice;  she  wished  to  soothe  him  by  her 
caresses,  for  the  plaintive  sounds  that  he 
uttered  echoed  in  the  heart  of  the  young 
girl,  who  reproached  herself  with  super- 
stition, and  trembled  anew  when  the  dog, 
freed  from  the  hand  of  his  mistress,  con- 


24:0 


AVE      MAUI  A. 


tinued  to  utter  his  moans,  which  seemed  a 
presage  of  misfortune. 

The  sighs  of  Fidele  were  suddenly 
changed  to  iirolonged  howls ;  he  scratched 
the  door,  returned  to  his  mistress  and 
seemed  to  beg  her  to  allow  him  to  bound 
forth  into  the  woods. 

A  little  reassured  by  the  first  rays  of  the 
rising  sun,  Marie  softly  raised  her  broth- 
er's head,  and  placing  it  on  her  chair, 
opened  the  door  for  the  dog,  who  took  his 
way  into  the  forest.  Then  Marie's  fears 
were  redoubled ;  she  wished  to  pray ;  she 
trembled,  and  eould  only  raise  her  tearful 
eyes  to  heaven,  crying,  "  O  ray  God  !  Oh, 
my  father !" 

Presently  she  heard  footsteps.  Can  it 
be  the  trusty  Fidele  that  Marie  hears? 
Yes,  she  cannot  be  mistaken,  it  is  he;  and 
his  bark  is  joyous  !  Marie  awakened  Ste- 
phen, and  both  listened,  scarcely  breathing. 
Without  communicating  their  thoughts 
to  each  other,  botli^went  to  the  door  and 
looked  as  far  as  a  winding  in  the  road. 
They  saw  two  men  carrying  a  litter,  on 
whichaman  was  extended.  Fidele  sprang, 
leaping  and  barking  around  him.  This 
man  was  Germain.  Stephen  and  his.  sis- 
ter fell  on  their  knees. 

The  procession  approached  with  slow 
steps.  Was  the  fisherman  wounded?  No; 
but  in  the  cruel  tempest  his  boat  was  de- 
stroyed. He  had  been  thrown  on  the  rocks, 
and  cast  about  at  the  mercy  of  the  waves. 
He  owed  his  rescue  to  a  man  who  at  his 
own  peril  snatched  him  from  certain  death, 
and  who  generously  paid  the  wood-cutters 
to  carry  him  home  to  his  children,  whose 
names  he  never  ceased  to  repeat. 

Stephen  interrupted  the  recital  to  in- 
quire after  Louis.  They  told  him  that  his 
cousin  was  obliged  to  remain  in  the  hos- 
pital on  account  of  several  wounds  he 
had  received  on  his  head.  Germain's 
rescuer  had  caused  him  to  be  removed 
there,  saying  he  would  not  be  able  to  sup- 
port the  fatigues  of  a  homeward  journey, 
and  besides  he  would  not  receive  at  home 
the  aid  his  condition  called  for. 

Germain  had  recovered  his  senses;  he 
smiled  on  his   children,  but   was  unable  | 


to  speak  to  them ;  yet  his  looks  spoke 
all  the  feelings  of  his  heart.  His  limbs 
nevertheless  remained  cold.  In  vain 
Marie  placed  warm  wrappings  around  him; 
— he  still  remained  benumbed.  Stephen 
concealed  himself  to  weep ;  but  Marie  re- 
doubled her  courage,  and  sinking  on  her 
knees  she  implored  the  Virgin  Mother :  "  O 
Mother  of  the  helpless,  comfort  and  con- 
solation of  the  afllicted,  to  thee  I  ad- 
dress my  prayers  in  this  hour  of  sor- 
row. Gracious  protectress,  through  whose 
intercession  .my  father  was  saved  from 
an  ocean  grave,  implore  God, -I  beseech 
thee,  to  crown  His  benefits  by  sparing  the 
life  of  my  dear  father."  Who  ever  sought 
aid  from  the  Mother  of  our  Lord  in  vain  ? 

Towards  noon  a  stranger  entered  the 
cottage.  He  was  a  physician,  and  seemed 
already  to  be  aware  of  the  state  of  the 
sick  man,  for  he  had  brought  the  proper 
remedies.  He  prescribed  to  the  attentive 
Marie  the  times  and  manner  of  adminis- 
tering the  medicines;  and  left,  promising 
to  call  again  in  the  course  of  a  couple  of 
days.  On  his  second  visit  he  found  Ger- 
main much  better;  he  continued  the  same 
treatment,  with  a  moderate  degree  of 
success. 

Germain  recovered  his  speech,  and  re- 
lated to  his  children  all  that  he  had  suf- 
fered; he  especially  exalted  the  devoted- 
ness  of  the  unknown  man  that  had  rescued 
him.  Ho  described  his  dress  and  features, 
the  latter  of  which  beamed  with  noble- 
ness and  kindness.  Marie  uttered  an 
exclamation  of  surprise  as  she  heard  this 
description,  for  in  it  she  recognized  the 
stranger  whom  they  had  hospitably  en- 
tertained in  their  humble  cottage.  She 
in  her  turn  related  this  incident  to  her 
father,  and  Germain  blessed  heaven  for 
bestowing  such  kind  hearts  on  his  children. 
[to  be  continued.] 


Every  one  likes  to  reprimand  and  cor- 
rect himself,  but  not  to  be  corrected  and 
reprimanded  by  others.  Yet  an  ounce  of 
humiliation  received  from  another  is  worth 
a  hundred  pounds  from  ourselves. 


AVE   MARIA. 

^  Catholic  journal,  devoted  ta  the  gaim*  of  the  gle.$i$eil  i'itgin. 


Vol.  V. 


NOISE  DAME,  IHDIAITA,  APRIL  17,  1869. 


Ho.  16. 


SAINT  JOSEPH. 

The  Spouse  of  the  Blessed  Tlr^in  Mary. 


FOB     THE    FEAST    OF     THE    FATRONAOE   OF    SAIKT 
JOSEPH. — THIBD  SUNDAY  AFTBB  EASTBB. 


Before  entering  upon  the  merits  and 
privileges  of  the  glorious  spouse  of  the 
Holy  Mother  of  God,  it  will  not  be  amiss 
to  clear  a  difficulty  somewhat  perplexing 
to  some  minds  at  first  sight,  viz.  :  how 
could  the  Blessed  Virgin  espouse  a  man 
after  making  to  God  the  vow  of  virginity, 
or  not  to  marry  ?  Theologians  reply  that 
by  a  special  revelation,  the  Holy  Virgin 
most  probably  knew  that  her  virginity 
would  be  exposed  to  no  danger  with 
Joseph,  and  that  she  would  remain  faith- 
ful to  her  vow,  even  in  the  state  of  mar- 
riage. She  furthermore  must  have  known 
that  her  saintly  spouse  would  be  the 
guardian  of  her  virtue,  and  that  he  him- 
self had  vowed  to  God  the  same  vow  for- 
ever. Otherwise,  she  would  never  have 
consented  to  any  marriage ;  indeed,  if  she 
replied  to  Gabriel,  the  Archangel:  "How 
can  this  be  done,  for  I  know  not  man?" 
she  would  assuredly  have  answered  him 
who  asked  her  hand :  How  can  I  accept 
a  man  for  my  husband,  when  I  am  betrothed 
to  the  Lord  ? 

More  perfect  than  any  other  saints,  the 
holy  spouses  Mary  and  Joseph  most  likely 
made,  previous  to  their  marriage,  the  mutual 
promise  of  chastity,  which  others  since, 
have  made  after  their  marriage;  they  bound 
themselves  to  each  other  to  be  spouses  and 
remain  virgins,  to  have'  but  one  soul  and 


one  heart,  and  be  thus  united  by  a  common 
love  more  angelic  than  human.  This  is 
the  explanation  generally  given,  and  we 
confess  that  it  fully  satisfies  us — nay,  it 
greatly  edifies  us. 

The  holy  marriage  of  Mary  and  Joseph 
has  had  in  various  ages  several  striking 
imitations:  kings,  emperors,  princes  and 
christian  heroes,  have  not  unfrequently 
made,  simultaneously  with  their  pious 
wives,  the  vow  of  chastity,  and  kept  it  to 
their  last  moments.  Among  the  best 
known  we  may  name  St.  Valerian  and  St, 
Cecilia,  whose  beautiful  legend  we  read  in 
the  lloman  breviary ;  the  Emperor  Hen- 
ry II  and  the  Empress  Cunegunda ;  Ed- 
ward, King  of  England,  with  Edith  ;  Bol- 
eslas.  King  of  Poland,  with  anotlier  Cune- 
gunda; Alphonsus  the  Chaste  with  Ber- 
tha; the  Emperor  Marc ian  with  St.  Pul- 
cheria. 

The  Gospel  is  silent  as  to  the  respec- 
tive ages  of  both  Mary  and  Joseph  when 
they  were  united  in  marriage;  tradi- 
tion, however,  seems  more  constant  in 
fixing  that  of  the  Holy  Virgin  at  fourteen, 
than  that  of  her  saintly  spouse,  on  which 
there  has  been  quite  a  variety  of  opinions. 
The  most  probable  sentiment  represents 
him  at  that  time  as  approaching  the  meri- 
dian of  life;  and  it  seems  also  the  most 
consonant  to  reason  and  to  Uie  nature 
of  the  office  to  which  he  was  called.  He 
was  given  to  the  young  virgin  to  be  her 
protector,  to  shield  her  precious  honor, 
to  accompany  her  in  her  journeys,  to  aid 
her  in  domestic  cares,  and  to  provide  by 
his  labor  for  the  wants  of  a  house  depend- 
ing on  him  alone;  such  duties  were  not 
well  suited  to  a  man  much  farther  ad- 
vanced in  years. 


24:2 


AVE      MARIA. 


Neither  do  Me  know  for  certain  the  ep- 
och of  his  death ;  the  last  mention  made 
of  him  by  the  Evangelist  concerns  the 
time  when  the  Divine  Child  returned  from 
Jerusalem  to  Nazareth,  at  the  age  of  twelve 
years,  and  remained  there  in  submission  to 
His  holy  parents :  "  et  erat  subditus  illU.''^ 
It  is  commonly  believed  that  this  remark 
of  St.  Luke  covers  most  of  the  period  com- 
prised between  His  return  and  the  begin- 
ning of  His  public  life.  In  this  supposi- 
tion it  would  appear  St.  Joseph  died  a  short 
time  before  our  Blessed  Lord  began  His 
public  mission.  That  he  was  dead  be- 
fore scarcely  admits  of  any  doubt,  as 
he  is  nowhere  mentioned  any  more,  either 
at  the  wedding  feast  or  at  any  place 
where  the  Blessed  Jlother  is  named  as 
being  with  her  Divine  Son. 

The  general  persuasion  that  onr  blessed 
Patriarch  died  in  the  arms  of  Jesus  and 
Mary  has  singled  him  out  as  the  patron 
of  a  holy  death. 

Suarez  and  many  other  learned  divines 
maintain  that  the  body  of  our  blessed 
Saint  is  already  glorified  in  heaven  with 
those  of  Jesus  and  Mary.  St.  Francis  of 
Sales  positively  declares  that  it  shoi>ld  not 
be  doubted.  St.  Bernardine  of  Sienna,  once 
preaching  at  Padua,  stated  to  the  people  : 
"  I  assure  you,  brethren,  that  St.  Joseph  is 
in  body  and  soul  in  heaven,  all  resplen- 
dent in  glory;  and  in  confirmation  of  the 
same  declaration,"  says  the  historian  of  his 
life,  "  a  golden  cross  shone  over  the  head 
of  Bernardine  and  was  seen  by  all  the  au- 
dience." 

Who  can  consider  and  not  admire  the 
peerless  privileges  of  St.  Joseph  ?  He  was 
the  spouse  of  the  Blessed  Mary.  St.  Ber- 
nardine of  Sienna,  commenting  on  this  el- 
ementary principle,  "  Omnia  qucB  sunt  ux- 
oris  sunt  etiam  viri, — Whatever  belongs  to 
the  wife  belongs  also  to  her  husband," 
builds  upon  it  an  irresistible  argument  in 
favor  of  the  holy  spouse. 

"  St.  Joseph,"  says  the  great  Doctor, 
"  has  a  share  in  all  the  honorific  titles  con- 
ferred on  Mary :  because  she  is  a  mother, 
he  is  called  father;  because  she  is  the 
Queen  of  Patriarchs,  of  Prophets,  of  the 


Apostles,  of  Martyrs,  Confessors  and  Vir- 
gins— St.  Joseph  may  be  considered  the 
king  of  all  these  glorious  orders." 

The  community  of  riches  is  still  more 
visibly  real  than  that  of  honors  ;  Mary's 
incalculable  riches  are  also  St.  Joseph's 
property.  But  Mary  is  exceedingly  rich, 
not  of  the  dust  of  this  earth,  but  of  real 
and  substantial  goods.  She  is  called  "Jfa- 
terdivince  gratioe.,  Mother  of  divine  grace," 
because  she  holds  within  her  heart  the 
plenitude  of  grace  as  a  mother  holds  her 
child  yet  unborn  within  her  womb.  If  she 
has  received  divine  grace  for  all,  she  must 
have  chiefly  shared  it  with  St.  Joseph. 
Now  all  the  riches  of  our  Blessed  Mother, 
whether  of  nature,  or  of  grace,  or  of  glory, 
are  all  combined  into  one  treasure  which 
she  receives  of  God  Himself,  viz.:  Jesus, 
the  Son  of  the  eternal  God. 

Our  blessed  Patriarch,  while  receiving 
Mary  for  his  spouse,  receives  as  her  dowry 
all  the  treasures  she  brings  with  her.  What 
a  fortune  !  To  these  she  adds  the  gift  of 
herself.  Next  to  Jesus,  St.  Joseph  could 
receive  no  present  more  precious  than  the 
heart  of  the  holy  Virgin,  and  yet  she  gives 
it  most  liberally  to  her  beloved  spouse. 
When  dying  on  Mount  Calvary,  our 
Blessed  Lord  will  give  His  holy  Mother  to 
St.  John,  the  beloved,  whom  He  will  pre- 
fer even  to  St.  Peter,  His  vicegerent  on 
earth ;  but  the  Blessed  Mother  never  be- 
longed to  St.  John  as  she  did  to  St.  Joseph. 
St.  Joseph,  the  true  spouse  of  Mary,  is 
therefore  looked  upon  as  the  father  of 
Jesus,  and  goes  by  that  name.  "  Jesus, 
Son  of  Joseph,  as  was  believed  ;" — "  Is  He 
not  the  Son  of  the  carpenter?" — "  Is  He  not 
the  Son  of  Joseph  ?"  This  was  said,  we 
know,  by  those  who  knew  not  His  Divine 
conception  :  but  the  Gospel  and  Mary  her- 
self give  him  the  same  name :  "  His  fa- 
ther and  mother  wondered,  hearing  these 
things.  .  .  .  Thy  father  and  I  have  sought 
Thee  sorrowing."  It  is  not  without  a  de- 
sign St.  Luke  and  the  Blessed  Virgin,  speak- 
ing under  the  inspiration  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  give  St.  Joseph  this  glorious  title: 
most  assuredly  there  is  a  reason  for  it:  it 
is  to  give  us  to  understand  that  the  eter- 


AVK      MARIA. 


24:3 


nal  Father,  while  cominunicatin<^  to  this 
wonderfully  privilegtMl  man,  as  far  an  it 
can  be  done,  a  paternity  which  He  does  not 
communicate  to  the  other  two  Divine  Per- 
sons, liaH  raised  him  to  a  most  elevated 
and  sublime  dignity. 

Nor  was  the  name  of  father  a  vain  title 
in  St.  Joseph  ;  it  meant  a  function,  an  of- 
fice, an  authority,  all  the  rights  of  at  least 
a  fosterfathor.  Joseph,  who  was  not  a  fa- 
ther by  nature,  was  a  father,  as  Bossuet  so 
beautifuly  remarks,  by  the  heart,  by  his 
love  and  care  and  solicitude.  He  had 
adopted  Jesus,  the  Son  of  his  most  holy 
spouse,  as  a  beloved  Son  whom  he  received 
from  God  Himself;  and  Jesus  likewise  had 
in  return  adopted  St.  Joseph  for  His  fa- 
ther, and  transmitted  him  all  the  rights  of 
a  fatlier. 

Hence,  to  a  great  extent,  our  glorious 
St.  Joseph  was,  and  acted  tlie  part  of,  the 
chief  and  superior  of  the  Holy  Virgin  and 
Christ  Himself.  The  first  part  of  this 
proposition  presents  no  difficulty;  it  is 
the  teaching  of  St.  Paul  (1  Corinth,  xi): 
•'  that  man  is  the  head  of  the  woman,  caput 
mulieris  vir.""  Although  the  Blessed  Mary, 
by  her  vow  and  the  extraordinary  privi- 
leges bestowed  on  her,  did  not  depend  on 
St.  Joseph  for  the  mysteries  of  the  soul, 
still  she  was  absolutely  subject  to  him 
as  the  head  of  the  family  in  the  govern- 
ment of  the  house.  It  was  to  him  God 
directed  His  orders,  to  show  that  the  law 
He  Himself  established  regulated  every- 
thing at  Nazareth:  thus  it  was  that  the 
departure  for  Egypt  and  the  return  there- 
from were  made  known  to  Joseph,  and  not 
to  Mary.  As  to  the  imposition  of  the 
name  of  Jesus,  it  was  revealed  to  both. 

That  St.  Joseph's  authority  extended 
over  Jesus,  is  of  faith;  "  e<  erat  subditua 
illis  :  and  He  was  submitted  to  them :" 
it  is  a  fact,  not  a  right.  By  right,  Jesus, 
Son  of  the  Most  High  God,  was  subject 
to  nocreature ;  anditwill  forever  be  enough 
for  St.  Joseph's  grandeur  to  show  that  even 
Jesus  submitted  Himself  to  his  command, 
obeyed  him  as  His  superior,  and  honored 
him  as  His  father. 

What  an  unspeakably  sweet  intimacy ! 


Oil !  the  heavenly  feelings  that  reigned  in 
the  holy  family  of  Jesus,  Mary  and  Jo- 
seph !  Wo  call  it  the  terrt>strial  Trinity, 
and  nothing  can  better  qualify  it ;  fbr,  af- 
ter the  union  of  the  three  adorable  Per- 
sons, where  shall  we  look  for  a  union  as 
Ijoly,  as  perfect?  \i'  it  is  the  duty  of  a 
wife  to  love  her  husband,  and  if  she 
cannot  sanctify  herself  without  it,  what  a 
love  for  Joseph  must  have  filled  Mary's 
own  heart!  for  she  was  the  most  virtuous 
and  most  perfectamong  the  holiest  spouses. 
What  a  deep  sense  of  gratitude  for  all  his 
fatigues,  bis  cares,  his  tender  solicitude  ! 
What  is  true  of  Mary  towards  Joseph,  is 
truer  still  of  Jesus,  who,  being  more  per- 
fect, more  powerful,  more  grateful,  paid 
more  liberally  than  Mary  every  service  He 
received  of  His  fosterfather  at  Nazareth. 

It  has  often  been  asked  if  the  dignity  of 
our  great  saint  is  above  all  other  dignity, 
without  any  exception  but  that  of  the 
Mother  of  God  ?  If  we  compare  it  to  that 
of  the  forerunner,  John  the  liaptist,  or 
that  of  the  apostles  and  evangelists,  which 
of  them  is  to  be  preferred  ? 

St.  Joseph's  office  unquestionably  refers 
more  immediately  to  the  person  of  Jesus 
Christ  than  does  any  other;  his  ministry 
comes  nearer  to  that  of  the  divine  mater- 
nity. After  Mary,  no  one  ever  was  blessed 
with  equal  opportunities  to  reach  the  sum- 
mit of  perfection  in  either  the  active  or 
the  contemplative  life.  As  to  the  active 
life — it  is  self-evident:  where  is  the  crea- 
ture to  whom  Jesus  may  say  with  more  evi- 
dent truth:  I  was  hungry  and  you  gave 
Me  to  eat,  I  was  thirsty  and  you  gave  Me 
to  drink?  The  immediate  cause  of  Joseph's 
over-fatigue  and  exertion  was  the  person 
of  Jesus.  Why  was  it  that  the  crime  of 
the  Jews  who  condemned  and  put  to  death 
the  Son  of  God  is  greater  than  all  other 
crimes?  Because  of  the  infinite  dignity  of 
the  Person  it  outraged.  Thus,  also,  the 
works  of  piety  daily  and  hourly  accom- 
plished by  our  glorious  saint  towards  Jesus, 
with  the  mostcomprehensive  knowledge  of, 
and  ardent  love  for.  His  S.icred  Person,  de- 
rive thence  an  unsurpassable,  unequalled 
superiority  of  merit  and  excellence. 


24r4r 


AVE     MARIA. 


Did  he  not  find  in  his  own  daily  sphere 
of  action  the  best  part  of  the  contempla- 
tive life?  He  joined  to  the  state  of  mar- 
riage the  vow  and  the  merit  of  virginity; 
he  was  united  to  a  spouse  whose  familiar 
society  was  a  school  of  virtue,  of  piety 
and  religion,  to  which  no  other  school 
could  be  compared  in  the  world.  Do 
we  sometimes  realize  the  destiny  of  a 
man  to  whom  the  Holy  Mother  looked  as 
her  lord,  her  own  spouse,  whom  she 
obeyed  and  loved  I  who  conversed  with 
her  daily,  sat  and  knelt  by  her  side,  ate  at 
her  table  served  by  her  own  hands  !  Oh, 
the  ravishing  sight  of  the  miracle  of  hu- 
man intercourse  !  and  yet  there  was  some- 
thing more  elevated  in  the  destiny  of  St. 
Joseph  at  Nazareth.  He  enjoyed  even 
the  company  of  Jesus  Himself;  and  this, 
habitually;  for  a  number  of  years  he  heard 
divine  truths  from  His  sacred  lijjs.  In 
the  Babe  he  carried  and  pressed  in  his 
arms  he  knew,  he  felt,  he  realized,  that  he 
held  a  God  Child,  the  Creator  of  the 
universe.  In  the  tiny  hand  he  beheld 
so  often  extended  towards  him  for  bread, 
he  recognized  the  hand  that  drew  the 
world  from  nothing,  that  feeds  every  living 
creature  in  this  world.  With  that  mys- 
terious, wonderful  Child  he  worked  and 
prayed,  and  came  nearer  and  nearer  every 
day  to  the  heavenly  Father  Avhose  per- 
fection man  must  strive  to  reach  as  long 
as  he  remains  on  earth. 

Perhaps  we  have  dwelt  too  long  on  this 
subject  for  some  of  our  readers.  How- 
ever, we  must  say  we  have  only  pointed 
it  out  as  a  mine  of  inexhaustible  wealth 
and  enjoyment.  But,  in  the  little  we  have 
drawn  out  of  it,  we  have  a  proof  that,  if 
perfection  consists  in  uniting  most  com- 
pletely the  advantages  of  both  the  active 
and  the  contemplative  life,  St.  Joseph's 
ministry  must  have  been  far  above  all 
others,  the  highest  and  most  sublime. 

"What  shall  we  say  of  St.  Joseph's  vir- 
tues ?  of  his  holiness  ?  .  .  When  God  calls  a 
man  to  an  extraordinary  mission,  He  fits 
him  with  proper  gifts  and  graces  to  en- 
able him  to  fulfil  it  worthily.  The  same 
Gospel  in  which  our  saint  is  designated 


as  the  just,  or  possessed  of  all  virtues, 
presents  him  sometimes  in  delicate  and 
difficult  circumstances,  and  each  time  he 
challenges  our  admiration.  We  recognize 
his  prudence  and  moderation,  when  he  noti- 
ces the  unexplained  condition  of  his  spouse ; 
and  his  faith  and  obedience,  when  the 
secret  and  the  will  of  heaven  are  made 
known.  Who  could  refuse  admiration 
to  his  prompt  departure  for  Egypt?  The 
angel  bids  him  fly  in  the  dead  of  the  night 
to  an  unknown  land,  and  take  with  him 
the  mother  and  her  Child,  as  if  heaven  it- 
self could  do  nothing  for  that  woman  who, 
but  yesterday,  was  pointed  out  to  him  as  the 
Mother  of  God ;  as  if  that  Child,  whom  ho 
knew  was  the  only  true  God,  were  in  danger, 
and  helpless  against  His  enemies.  Joseph 
brings  forward  no  objections ;  he  believes 
and  adores  in  silence,  and  starts  before 
the  dawning  of  the  light. 

After  all  we  have  said  of  St.  Joseph,  it 
will  not  surprise  any  of  the  readers  of  the 
Ave  Makia  to  see  us  on  the  side  of  the  grave 
theologians  who  piously  believe  and  teach 
that  the  same  order  marked  out  in  St. 
Matthew  i :  "  Jesus,  Mary,  Joseph,"  is 
also  maintained  in  heaven ;  thus  placing 
our  glorious  Patriarch  above  St.  John  the 
Baptist,  above  the  Apostles  and  all  the 
angelic  choirs,  and  not  separating  in  the 
eternal  glory  these  three  venerated  names 
once  so  closely  united  upon  earth.  In 
this  we  follow  the  learned  Suarez,and  repeat 
after  him,  that  it  is  neither  rash  nor  im- 
probable but  rather  pious  and  likely,  to  be- 
lieve that  St.  Joseph  received  more  graces 
than  all  the  other  saints,  not  excepting 
the  Precursor  or  the  Apostles;  and  that 
in  the  glory  of  heaven  he  is  next  to 
his  holy  spouse. 

Of  his  power  there,  to  protect  and  enrich 
those  who  call  on  him  from  this  land  of 
want  and  suflTering,  we  have  no  room  to 
speak.  We  may  return  to  it  in  a  separate 
article. 

In  the  mean  time,  we  humbly  and  most 
thankfully  acknowledge,  with  every  mem- 
ber of  our  little  community,  an  immense 
debt  of  gratitude  for  endless  blessings  re- 
ceived by  each  and  all  of  us  through  his 


AVE      MARIA. 


245 


paternal  meditaion  during. a  quarter  of  a 
century,  in  the  rich  valley,  on  the  beauti- 
ful banks  of  the  river,  and  in  the  lovely 
county,  of  St.  Joseph. 


BLOSSOiUS  OF  FAITH  AND  LOVE; 

OR. 

Bouquets  for  e?ery  Seasoi. 


IV.— THE  PASCHAL  SEASON. 


I. — TUB    ALLELUIA. 

On  Easter  Sunday,  St.  Gertrude,  ani- 
mating all  the  powers  of  her  body  and 
soul  to  recite  the  Matins  of  the  Resurrec- 
tion with  devotion,  begged  of  her  divine 
Master  to  teach  her  how  she  could  best 
praise  Him  by  the  Alleluia,  which  is  so 
often  repeated  during  this  joyful  time. 
Our  Lord  replied :  "  You  can  praise  Me 
by  the  Alleluia,  by  uniting  it  to  the 
praises  which  the  saints  and  angels  con- 
stantly offer  Me  in  heaven."  Then  con- 
tinuing His  instruction  He  desired  her 
(1.)  to  praise  Him  with  the  saints  for  the 
glorious  immortality  by  which  the  suffer- 
ings of  His  Humanity  and  the  bitterness 
of  His  Passion  were  rewarded ;  (2.)  to 
praise  Him  for  the  sweet  and  ineffable 
joys  which  gladden  His  eyes  in  gazing 
upon  the  Holy  Trinity  ;  (3.)  to  unite  her- 
self with  the  delight  which  He  finds  in 
hearing  the  concerts  of  praises  in  honor 
of  the  Blessed  Trinity  which  are  sung  by 
the  saints  and  angels ;  (4.)  to  enjoy  the 
sweet  perfumes  and  odors  which  He  finds 
in  the  presence  of  the  Holy  Trinity;  (5.)  to 
to  rejoice  that  His  Humanity,  which  was  for- 
merly capable  of  suffering  and  mortal,  is  now 
filled  with  the  Divine  immortality.  To  fol- 
low this  beautiful  instruction  exactly  as  it 
was  given,  one  should  be  as  fervent  and 
practiced  in  divine  contemplation  as  the 
saint  herself,  who  probably  found  no  diffi- 
culty in  applying  each  of  these  intentions 
to  the  vowels  occurring  in  the  word  Alle- 
luia. Alas  for  our  roving  imaginations, 
to  which  such  absorption  in  heavenly 
things  seems  utterly  impracticable.     How- 


ever, our  case  is  not  altogether  hopeleiis. 
Love  is  ingenious,  and  easily  finds  meth- 
ods of  gratifying  its  fervent  impulses, 
according  to  individual  taste  and  devo- 
tion. We  may  mention  one.  As  our 
Blessed  Lord  on  several  occasions  sug- 
gested to  His  beloved  Gertrude  the  reci- 
tation of  the  Psalm  Laudate  Dominum 
omnes  genteSy  "  to  supply  for  the  praises 
that  men  fail  to  offer  Him,"  it  would  seem 
proper  to  blend  the  two  devotions  during 
Easter  time  by  repeating  the  psalm  five 
times  for  the  above  intentions,  adding  the 
Alleluia  to  each  verse. 

ni.— PUEITY  OF  INTENTION. 

On  Thursday  in  Easter  week  St.  Ger- 
trude understood  from  our  Lord  that  "  all 
her  actions  were  perfectly  agreeable  to 
Him."  Surprised  at  this  she  considered 
how  it  could  be,  since  she  thought  her 
actions  could  not  be  pleasing  to  any  one, 
and  saw  in  them  herself  such  great  im- 
perfections; but  He  said  to  her:  "The 
good  and  praiseworthy  custom  which  you 
have  of  recommending  your  actions  to 
Mc  so  frequently,  and  of  placing  them  in 
My  hands,  makes  me  correct  those  which 
are  defective,  that  they  may  please  Me 
perfectly  and  all  My  celestial  court." 

III. — OF  THE  LITANY  OF  THE  SAINTS. 

Once,  on  the  feast  of  St.  Mark,  the 
favored  Gertrude  had  a  vision  well  calcu- 
lated to  encourage  all  to  be  devoutly  pres- 
ent at  the  public  recitation  of  the  Litany 
of  the  Saints  on  that  feast  and  on  the  Ro- 
gation Days.  It  is  thus  described  in  the 
Life  and  Revelations  of  the  saint :  "  Our 
Lord  appeared  to  her,  seated  on  a  throne 
of  majesty,  adorned  with  precious  stones, 
which  formed  as  many  brilliant  mirrors 
as  there  were  saints  in  heaven."  Each 
saint  rose  joyfully  as  he  was  named  in  the 
Litany,  to  offer  his  prayers  to  God  for 
those  who  had  invoked  him;  and  the 
names  of  those  who  prayed  to  them  ap- 
peared written  on  their  hands  :  the  names 
of  those  who  had  invoked  them  with  fer- 
vor and  purity  were  written  in  letters  of 
gold ;    the   names   of  those  who  prayed 


246 


AVE      MARIA. 


only  through  custom  were  in  black;  while 
the  names  of  those  who  were  careless  and 
indifferent  couM  scarcely  be  discerned  at 
all.  St.  Gertrude  understood  from  this, 
that  when  the  saints  whom  we  have  in- 
voked pray  for  us,  their  prayers  shine  be- 
fore God  as  a  nxonuraent  of  the  mercy 
which  He  has  promised  us,  which  obliges 
Him  to  have  pity  on  us  ;  and  when  we  in- 
voke the  saints  with  a  pure  and  fervent 
devotion,  they  receive  the  brilliancy  of 
the  precious  stones  enchased  in  our  Lord's 
robe,  which  are  inscribed  with  the  names 
of  those  who  revere  them  and  invoke  their 
aid." 

ir. SALUTATIONS   TO   OUB   LORD. 

Few  things  appear  more  marvellous  in 
the  lives  of  the  saints  than  the  fidelity 
with  which  they  observed  the  precept  to 
pray  always.  We  read  of  Saint  Elizabeth, 
Queen  of  Hungary,  that  for  "eight  days 
before  each  feast  of  the  Blessed  Virgin, 
she  bent  the  knee  a  thousand  times  a  day, 
saying  the  '  Hail  Mary''  every  time  ;"  and 
of  the  illustrious  penitent,  St.  Margaret 
of  Cortona,  that  before  she  attained  to 
contemplation  the  vocal  prayers  she  re- 
cited daily  were  so  numerous,  that  her 
confessor  was  amazed  how  she  could  find 
time  or  breath  to  repeat  them.  And  we 
are  told  of  St.  Gertrude  repeating  the 
following  exquisite  salutation  five  thou- 
sand four  hundred  and  sixty-six  times, 
when  preparing  to  celebrate  the  great  fes- 
tival of  the  Ascension  : 

"  Glory  be  to  Thee,  most  sweet,  most 
gentle,  most  benign,  most  noble,  most 
excellent,  effulgent,  and  ever-peaceful  Trin- 
ity, for  the  roseate  Wounds  of  my  only 
love  ! 

"  As  she  repeated  this  salutation,  our 
Lord  Jesus  appeared  to  her,  more  beauti- 
ful than  the  angels,  bearing  golden  flow- 
ers on  each  Wound,  and  saluted  her  thus, 
with  a  serene  countenance  and  the  tender- 
est  charity :  '  Behold  in  what  glory  I  now 
appear  to  you.  I  will  appear  in  the  same 
manner  to  you  at  your  death,  and  will 
cover  all  the  stains  of  your  sins,  and  of 
those  also  who  salute  ray  Wounds  with 


the  same  devotion !'  Another  of  the 
Saint's  favorite  salutations  at  this  time  was: 

"  Hail,  Jesus,  beautiful  Spouse  !  I  salute 
and  praise  Thee  in  Thy  Ascension  joys." 

On  the  vigil  of  the  festival  she  repeated 
these  words  two  hundred  and  twenty-five 
times,  to  salute  our  Lord's  sacred  Limbs. 

It  was  objected  by  a  person  who  was 
advised  to  adopt  some  devotions  of  this 
kind,  that  for  people  living  in  the  world 
to  pray  so  often  was  impossible,  and  as 
for  having  the  fervor  of  St.  Gertrude  or 
other  chosen  souls,  that  was  not  to  be 
thought  of.  Then,  my  dear,  (was  the  re- 
ply), say  these  little  prayers  as  often  as 
you  conveniently  can  ;  take  a  few  minutes 
from  sleep,  recreation  or  meal-times,  and 
say  them  with  a  good-will :  so  yon  will 
gain  sevei-al  trifling  merits  which  together 
may  equal — M'ho  knows  ? — even  what  you 
would  acquire  had  you  the  fervid  devotion 
of  the  saint  herself.  O  how  could  that 
possibly  be?  was  the  hasty  question. 
The  patient  instructress  replied :  You  will 
tell  our  Lord  that  you  wish  with  all  your 
heart  that  you  could  say  these  prayers 
with  as  much  love  and  fervor  as  St.  Ger- 
trude, or  whatever  saint  it  may  be ;  that 
you  rejoice  with  the  saint  and  praise  Him 
for  the  holy  dispositions  He  gave  her; 
and  that  you  desire  by  reciting  the  pray- 
ers, though  unworthily,  to  renew  the  de- 
light His  loving  Heart  took  in  her  sweet 
and  acceptable  homage.  Humility,  self- 
denial — that  holy  envy  which  regrets  it  has 
not  the  perfection  of  others,  yet  gen- 
erously admires  and  rejoices  in  it  with 
them — the  unselfish  desire  for  our  Lord*8 
glory  and  pleasure, — see,  dear,  how  easily 
an  act  of  each  of  these  beautiful  virtues 
can  be  made,  and  think  you  not  that  He 
will  be  pleased  with  these  trifles?  "He 
that  is  faithful  in  the  least  is  faithful  in 
the  greatest." 

T. — ASCENSION  THrBSDAT. 

On  the  morning  of  the  festival  for  which 
St.  Gertrude  bad  thus  assiduously  pre- 
pared, she  asked  her  gracious  Lord  to 
teach  her  how  to  honor  fittingly  the 
admirable    procession    which    He     made 


AVE    m:aria. 


247 


when  conducting  Hifl  disciples  toBcthania. 
Our  Lord  replied:  *' As  Bethania  signifies 
the  'house  of  obedience/  you  cannot 
make  a  better  procession,  or  one  more 
pleasing  to  Me,  than  to  offer  Me  the  en- 
tirety of  your  will,  when  you  conduct  Me 
within  you,  grieving  sincerely  for  having 
followed  your  own  will  on  so  many  occa- 
sions in  preference  to  Mine,  and  firmly 
determining  for  the  future  to  perform 
My  will  perfectly  in  all  things."  He 
was  also  pleased  to  reveal  to  her  how  ac- 
ceptable were  tlie  various  devotions  she 
had  performed.  After  having  communi- 
cated, "  the  saint  offered  her  prayers,  and 
those  of  some  other  persons,  to  serve  as 
an  ornament  to  His  sacred  Wounds,  for 
the  day  of  His  glorious  Ascension.  Then 
the  Lord  Jesus  appeared  before  His  Father, 
adorned  with  these  prayers,  as  with  so 
many  precious  stones;  and  His  Father 
appeared  to  draw  all  these  offerings  of  the 
elect  to  Himself,  by  His  almighty  power, 
and  then  to  cause  them  to  fall  in  rays  of 
glory  on  the  throne  prepared  for  all  eter- 
nity for  those  who  had  offered  these  pray- 
ers*" At  Vespers,  she  saw  our  Lord  "  giv- 
ing His  benediction  to  the  whole  commu- 
nity, saying  to  them:  'Peace  I  leave  with 
you,  My  peace  I  give  unto  you.'  By  which 
she  understood,  that  our  Lord  had  poured 
forth  His  grace  so  effectually  into  the 
hearts  of  those  who  had  celebrated  this 
festival  with  singular  devotion,  that  what- 
ever trouble  might  happen  to  them.  He 
would  still  leave  some  of  His  peace  in 
their  souls,  even  as  sparks  of  fire  are  hid- 
den under  ashes."  Mary. 


Receipts  for  Defence  ef  the  Pope. 

Amount  on  hand'^from  Ko.  14., I  892  06 
A  friend,  Washington,  D.  C. ...  5  00 
Michael  Cleary,  Melleray,  Iowa. .         5  00 


Total  amount  on  hand I;  402  06 

Am't  remitted  up  to  Oct.  5,  1868.  1,343  00 


Total I  1,745  06 


THE  FLEMMimCS. 


BT    MRS.    ANIVA    H.    DORSET. 

CHAPTER  XL 
LiouT  OUT  or  Darknkss. 

[CONTIKXJKD.] 

"  up  to  this  point  of  our  Saviour's  dis- 
course all  seems  easy,  because  it  sounds 
symbolic  or  figurative,  and  can  be  adapted 
in  a  mystical  sense  to  our  spiritual  com- 
prehension; but  I  believe  with  all  the 
power  of  my  soul  that  He  was  teaching  a 
sftbstantial  truth,  hence  I  am  no  longer 
satisfied  with  either  type  or  shadow,  and 
will  seek  for  the  substance,  which  is  Him- 
self under  the  form  of  bread.  He  speaks 
of  three  sorts  of  bread.  The  first  is  that 
with  which  He  fed  the  five  thousand  on 
the  mountain — a  miraculous  bread,  mirac- 
ulously multiplied,  and  figurative  of  a 
greater  mystery;  but  He  calls  it  'meat 
which  perisheth';  the  second  is  mannay 
which  the  Jews  called  *  bread  from  heaven,' 
but  which  Jesus  declares  with  the  solem- 
nity of  an  oath  was  not:  'Amen,  amen  I 
say  unto  you;  Moses  gave  them  not  bread 

from  Heaven I  am  the  bread  of 

life.'  Here  now  we  have  the  third  kind 
of  bread,  and  He  tells  us  what  it  is: 
'  Your  fathers  did  eat  manna  in  the  desert, 
and  are  dead.  This  is  the  bread  which 
Cometh  down  from  heav-en :  that  if  any 
mail  eat  of  it,  he  may  not  die.  I  am  the 
living  bread  which  came  down  from  heaven. 
If  any  man  eat  of  this  bread,  he  shall  live 
forever:  and  the  bread  w^hich  I  will  give, 
is  My  flesh  for  the  life  of  the  world.' 

"  When  the  Jews  heard  these  sayings, 
they  strove  amongst  themselves,  thinking 
He  meant  His  flesh  in  a  carnal  sense,  and 
said  to  ooe  another:  'How  can  this  man 
give  us  his  flesh  to  eat?'  Here  was  the 
time  and  opportunity  for  Jesus  to  have 
explained  Ilis  meaning  if  He  spoke  a  par- 
able, or  meant  His  words  to  be  understood 
in  a  figurative  sense;  for  He  knew  that  He 
was  speaking  through  them  to  all  time, 


248 


AVE     MARIA. 


and  it  would  have  been  the  work  of  a  devil 
and  not  of  God  to  leave  them  in  error  on 
so  vital  a  question.  He  saw  how  eagerly 
they  awaited  His  answer,  and  how  the 
minds  of  His  own  disciples  were  troubled 
by  His  words;  but,  so  far  from  doing  this. 
He  declared  in  plainer  terms  if  possible, 
ratified  by  the  solemnity  of  an  oath,  the 
same  mystery:  *Amen,  amen  I  say  unto 
you :  except  you  eat  the  flesh  of  the  Son 
of  man,  and  drink  His  blood,  you  shall  not 
have  life  in  you.'  Who  was  the  Son  of 
man?  Himself.  Who  was  He?  Jesus 
Christ.  Who  was  Jesus  Christ?  The 
Son  of  God.  We  believe  this.  Then 
must  we  also  believe  Him  when  He  tells 
us  how  we  are  to  believe  in  Him,  when  He 
declares  squarely  and  without  a  shadojv 
of  prevarication  or  hidden  meaning,  in 
simple,  straightforward,  but  awful  words: 
'  He  that  eateth  My  flesh  and  drinketh  JMy 
blood  hath  everlasting  life:  and  I  will 
raise  him  up  in  the  last  day.  For  My 
flesh  is  meat  indeed ;  and  My  blood  is 
drink  indeed.  He  that  eateth  My  flesh, 
and  drinketh  My  blood,  abideth  in  Me,  and 
I  in  him.  As  the  living  Father  hath  sent 
Me,  and  I  live  by  the  Father :  so  he  that 
eateth  Me,  the  same  also  shall  live  by  Me. 
This  is  the  bread  which  came  down  from 
heaven.  Not  as  your  fathers  did  eat 
manna,  and  are  dead.  He  that  eateth  this 
bread  shall  live  forever.'  Not  only  the 
Jews  who  thronged  the  synagogue  that 
day  to  hear  His  words  scofibd  and  cavilled 
at  His  doctrines,  but  some  of  His  own 
disciples,  who  had  witnessed  the  multipli- 
cation of  the  loaves,  and  afterwards  on  the 
midnight  sea  had  seen  Him  walking  upon 
the  stormy  waters — who,  terrified  because 
they  thought  it  was  a  spirit,  were  consoled 
by  His  voice  whispering:  '  It  is  I :  be  not 
afraid,'  and  took  Him  into  their  ship  with 
joy, — doubted  Him  now,  and  turning  back 
walked  with  Him  no  more.  But  He  did 
not  recall  them.  They  'had  seen  Him  and 
did  not  believe;'  <hey  had  been  taught  of 
God,  but  profited  nothing.  We  believe 
in  Him  as  the  Eternal  Truth,  the  true  Son 
of  God,  the  Redeemer  who  assumed  flesh 
that  He  might  die  in  the  flesh  for  us,  then 


we  must  believe  Him  when  He  tells  us  that 
to  inherit  eternal  life  we  must  eat  of  this 
bread  which  is  His  flesh.  To  abide  in 
Him  and  Him  in  us  we  cat  His  flesh  and 
drink  His  blood;  and,"  continued  the 
Elder,  "  I  believe  His  words,  and  because 
I  believe  them  I  can  no  longer  make  a 
mockery  of  them  by  partaking  of  symbols. 
There  must  be  somewhere  among  God's 
people  a  solution  of  my  difficulty.  The 
truth  cannot  perish.  I  know  nothing  be- 
yond Congregational  opinions;  and  they 
do  not  hold  it.  I  do  not  know  where,  or 
how,  to  seek  this  life-giving  bread.  My 
ship  is  tossed  on  waters  of  stormy  doubts 
and  fears,  and  in  the  darkness  and  un- 
certainty of  my  soul  I  see  Him  afar  oflf; 
He  is  yet  but  a  spirit  to  me  and  I  tremble, 
for  I  know  not  who  holds  the  divine  and 
life-giving  legacy  He  has  bequeathed  me, 
the  great  and  awful  trust,  the  miraculous 
feast  of  the  body  and  blood  of  Jesus  Christ 
which  to  inherit  eternal  life  I  must  eat. 
This,  my  wife  and  children,  is  what  has 
troubled  my  spiritual  life  for  some  years 
past.  I  have  sought  to  stifle  it  as  a  temp- 
tation and  false  doctrine,  but  it  has  pur- 
sued me  until  my  thoughts  are  so  full  of 
it  that  I  could  as  easily  doubt  my  very  ex- 
istence as  the  belief  that  it  is  necessary  to 
my  salvation  to  eat  of  this  heavenly  bread." 

"  Oh,  husband !  your  delusion  passes 
all  belief.  It  is  a  temptation ;  never 
doubt  that.  There,  there — read  that !"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Flemming  standing  beside 
him,  and  pointing  to  a  verse  which  she 
read  in  a  triumphant  voice :  "  '  It  is  the 
spirit  that  quickeneth:  the  flesh  profiteth 
nothing.  The  words  I  have  spoken  to  you 
are  the  spirit  and  the  life.'  " 

"  Yes,  mother ;  dead  flesh  separated  from 
the  spirit,  in  the  gross  manner  they  sup- 
posed they  were  to  eat  His  flesh,  would 
indeed  'profit  nothing.'  That  is  what  He 
meant.  In  proposing  the  feast  of  His 
body  and  blood,  don't  you  see  that  it  be- 
stows spirit,  grace,  and  life,  inasmuch  as 
in  partaking  of  it  He  abides  in  us  and  we 
in  Him,  marking  us  for  His  own,  worthy 
by  it  of  inheriting  eternal  life?  Paul  says 
that  whosoever  shall  eat  of  this  bread  and 


AVE     MARIA. 


24:9 


drink  of  this  cup  unworthily  shall  ho  guilty 
of  the  hody  and  hlood  of  the  Lord,  and 
'he  that  eateth  and  drinketh  unworthily, 
eatcth  and  drinketh  ju<l<^nicTit  to  himself, 
not  discerning  the  body  of  the  Lord.'*  " 

"  Wolfert  Flemming!  you  are  wresting 
the  word  of  God  to  your  own  ruin  !  I  fear 
that  you  are  possessed  of  a  devil,  if  you 
are  not  crazy,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Flemming, 
laying  her  hand  upon  his  broad  forehead 
and  looking  into  his  calm  gray  eyes,  which 
regarded  her  troubled  countenance  with  a 
look  of  ineffable  love  and  pity.  "  Oh, 
what  delusions  to  come  to  such  a  soul ! 
Husband,  send  for  Father  Ray." 

"  Father  Ray  cannot  help  me,  mother. 
He  has  tried,  and  gave  me  no  comfort  or 
light.  Only  God  Himself  can  aid  me.  I 
look  for  Him  to  stretch  His  hand  out  of 
the  darkness  to  lead  me,  for  He  knows  how 
earnestly  I  seek  Him;  and  though  He  slay 
me,  yet  will  I  trust  Him.  I  can  be  a  hyp- 
ocrite no  longer.  The  scriptures  them" 
selves  have  led  me  into  deep  waters;  per- 
haps I  may  sink,  but  I  hope  not.  I  hope 
not.  Like  Tobias,  I  know  not  the  way, 
nor  whence  to  find  a  faithful  guide ;  but  I 
'believe'  for  all  that,  and  I  know  that  God 
will  not  suffer  me  to  perish  through  igno- 
rance. But  I  must  break  off  from  the  old 
lines,  they  are  too  narrow  for  the  needs 
of  my  soul." 

"But,  father,  consider!"  cried  Mrs. 
Flemming,  her  voice  tremulous  with  ex- 
citement and  distress.  "Consider  how 
you  are  looked  up  to  by  old  and  young  as 
one  strong  in  the  faith,  and  what  a  hurt 
it  will  be  to  souls  to  see  you  falling  away 
from  pure  and  simple  Gospel  doctrines,  to 
run  after  visionary  ideas.  Consider,  too, 
the  discredit  it  will  be  to  you,  you  who 
come  of  such  old  true-blooded  Puritan 
stock ;  think  of  the  hurt  it  will  bo  to  your 
business,  and  the  disgrace  it  will  bring 
upon  your  family —  Oli,  dear  me!  I  never 
heard  of  such  a  dreadful  thing  in  my  life. 
And  the  girls —  I'm  sure  their  prospects 
will  bo  mined  if  you  go  off  and  backslide 
in  this  way." 


*  1  Corinthians,  xi. 


"  Little  wife,"  said  the  Elder,  kindly  and 
gravely,  "  I  must  not  labor  for  the  meat 
that  perishoth,  but  for  the  bread  of  eternal 
life.  I  will  abide  in  the  promise  of  Him 
who  commands  me  to  believe  in  Him.  I 
am  groping  for  the  truth,  which  must  be 
somewhere  on  God's  earth;  and  if  I  find  it 
by  His  grace,  I  shall  be  ready  not  only  to 
suffer,  but  rejoice,  if  need  be  to  die  for  it." 

"  Oh,  dear  me !"  bewailed  Mrs.  Flem- 
ming, "  what  will  that  righteous  man, 
Father  Ray,  say?  What  will  the  Deacon 
do?  What  will  John  Wilde  think?  I 
never  had  such  a  shock  in  my  life.  Why, 
Elder  Flemming !"  she  cried,  growing 
irate:  "You  must  surely  be  bewitched." 

"No,  mother,  I  am  not  bewitched. 
Don't  distress  yourself  so — it  pains  me," 
he  said  quietly. 

"  I'm  glad  it  does ;  it's  a  good  sign.  Elder 
^lemming,  to  have  something  pain  your 
conscience ;  it  shows  that  you  are  not 
quite  '  given  over.'  I've  felt  something 
coming  for  weeks  and  weeks.  I  didn't 
know  what,  but  it  made  a  cold  spot  on  my 
heart  all  the  time,  that  wouldn't  let  me 
forget  even  for  a  minute  that  it  was  there. 
Ever  since  that  idolatrous  Irish  papist 
was  here,  I  have  felt  so.  I  wish  it  had 
been  in  the  good  old  times  for  him,  with 
his  crosses  and  superstitions."  Which 
meant  that  Patrick  McCue  would  not 
have  got  off  with  flying  colors,  but  would 
probably  have  got  a  "  rise  in  the  world," 
as  they  say  out  in  Nebraska  when  a  man 
is  hung.  "  Only  see,  now,  how  God  has 
punished  us  for  sheltering  an  idolater." 

"  Mother,  do  vou  remember  the  words : 
*  I  was  a  stranger  and  ye  took  Me  in.  I 
was  hungry  and  ye  fed  me:"  said  the  Elder. 

"  No  I  don't  forget  them;  but  there  were 
no  wandering  Irish  papists  going  about 
in  those  days,  destro}'ing  the  peace  of 
christian  families."  Then  Mrs.  Flemming, 
out  of  breath,  and  half  beside  herself  with 
grief  and  anger,  went  back  to  her  chair 
and  tried  to  resume  her  work. 

Hope   and   Eva  had   not   spoken ;    the 

whole  scene  surprised  and  distressed  them ; 

they  were  not  prepared  for  any  such  thing, 

I  and  the  sudden  breaking  down  of  accus- 


250 


AVE      MARIA 


tomed  lines,  or  the  uprooting  of  lifetime 
traditions,  is  always  painful ;  but  on  the 
whole  they  sympathized  and  almost  be- 
lieved with  their — father,it  all  seemed 
so  straightforward  and  indisputable;  but 
Reuben  for  once  forgot  his  book,  and  re- 
garded with  something  akin  to  a  speech- 
less terror  what  appeared  to  him  very  like 
a  great  moral  earthquake  of  apostasy. 
Elder  Flemming  got  up,  and  walked  up 
and  down  the  room  ;  his  soft,  firm  footfall, 
and  the  creaking  of  a  plank  here  and  there 
of  the  old  floor  as  he  stepped  upon  it,  and 
the  sparkling  of  the  fire  caused  by  the 
falling  apart  of  a  great  blazing  log,  were 
the  only  sounds,  except  the  low  shrill 
whistle  of  the  wind  around  the  northwest 
angle  of  the  house,  that  were  heard.  They 
were  all  full  of  busy  thought,  and  it  seemed 
to  them  that  a  curtain  had  been  suddenly 
rent  away  before  them,  revealing  a  chaos 
into  which  they  were  being  driven.  At 
last  the  Elder  paused  in  his  monotonous 
march,  and  taking  his  accustomed  seat, 
said:  "We  will  have  family  worship;" 
then  he  turned  over  the  leaves  of  the  old 
Bible,  and  his  calm  even  voice,  full  of  the 
spirit  of  the  Psalm*  he  read,  fell  sooth- 
ingly upon  the  mortal  unrest  around  him; 
after  which,  from  the  fulness  of  his  own 
soul,  upon  his  bended  knees,  he  poured  out 
his  cry  for  help.  Afterwards  Hope  and 
Eva  bade  him  and  their  mother  a  tender 
good  night  and  went  away.  Mrs.  Flem- 
ming lit  Reuben's  candle,  and  sent  him  off 
to  bed  with  a  charge  "  not  to  read  in  bed," 
then  she  took  up  her  own  candlestick,  and 
went  round  inspecting  the  fastenings  of 
doors  and  windows,  and  looked  to  see  if 
the  old  beaufet^  with  its  sparkling  treas- 
ures, was  safely  locked ;  and  finding  that 
the  Elder  did  not  move,  she  fidgeted 
around,  jingling  her  key-basket  a  little 
while  longer,  then  said:  "Rake  up  the  fire 
carefully  if  you  are  not  coming,  but  don't 
stay  up  too  late,  father;  you  need  sleep." 
But  he  did  not  feel  like  sleeping,  and 
after  she  went  away  he  took  the  light  and 
went  to  his  "work-room"  and  sat  down 


I  to  think,  but  his  mind  was  so  tempest-tost 
that  he  could  not  bring  his  thoughts  to 
anything  like  order,  and  he  determined  to 
go  to  work  on  the  accounts  of  "  Sneathen 
and  Flemming "  and  prepare  the  new 
terms  of  partnership,  the  old  one  expiring 
ten  days  hence  \  he  would  go  over  it  all, 
and  see  what  he  could  do  to  find  out  what 
virtue  there  was  in  algebra  for  a  troubled 
mind.  So  thinking,  he  went  to  his  desk, 
and  in  turning  over  and  assorting  his  ac- 
counts he  picked  up  Patrick  McCue's  keep- 
sake, which  he  had  entirely  forgotten,  and 
in  a  vague,  absent-minded  way  he  opened 
it,  and  his  eye  lit  upon  these  words: 
"  First,  supposing  it  possible  that  Jesus 
Christ  had  deceived  the  Jews  at  Caphar- 
haum,  and  even  His  disciples,  and  His 
very  apostles,  in  the  solemn  asseverations 
which  He,  six  times  over,  repeated  of  His 
real  and  corporal  presence  in  the  sacra- 
ment when  He  promised  to  institute  it; 
,can  any  one  believe  that  He  would  con- 
tinue the  deception  on  His  dear  apostles 
in  the  very  act  of  instituting  it?  and  when 
He  was  on  the  point  of  leaving  them?  in 
short,  when  he  was  bequeathing  to  them 
the  legacy  of  His  love?*  .  .  .  ."  The 
strong  man's  soul  trembled  as  he  read  I 
What  was  this,  and  whence,  so  aptly  fit- 
ting his  needs  ?  Could  it  be  that  help  was 
at  hand,  and  from  such  a  source  ?  Was 
it  this  book,  which  weeks  ago  he  had 
thrown  aside  with  contempt  as  defiled  with 
false  doctrine,  which  was  to  enlighten 
him?  He  did  not  stop  to  parley  with  the 
past,  but  read  on,  and  on,  and  on,  until  he 
came  to  the  end  of  the  subject,  then  he 
turned  hungrily  to  the  first  page  of  the 
book  and  began  anew  ;  he  must  see  it  all, 
and  find  if  other  questions  of  his  soul 
could  be  answered  by  it;  and  forgetting 
time  and  rest,  he  stood  at  his  desk  lean- 
ing upon  his  elbows,  devouring  its  con- 
tents so  full  and  satisfying  to  his  mind, 
until  with  a  sudden  upflirting  of  light,  the 
candle  burnt  down  to  the  socket  gave  one 
flash  of  light,  and  expired,  leaving  him  in 
darkness.     Exterior  darkness  only,  for  the 


*  Psalm  Ixvi.    "  Deus  misereatur." 


'  Milner's  End  of  Controversy,"  page  229. 


AVE     MARlA. 


251 


lamp  of  his  Ronl  was  alight,  its  whadowR 
were  flceingbcforc  the  divine  illumination  ; 
he  had  found  a  guide  at  last  who  led  him 
with  a  strong  strange  power  into  the  ways 
of  truth,  and  his  very  blood  pulsed  with  a 
new  and  perfect  joy.  But  he  could  not 
stop.  lie  must  learn  more;  so  he  kindled 
his  fire  and  lit  the  swinging  lamp  over 
his  work-bench,  and  drawing  his  great 
leather-backed  chair  to  it,  he  sat  down  and 
resumed  the  book. 

Mrs.  Flemming  had  passed  a  restless, 
feverish  night.  Now  and  then  she  doued 
from  utter  weariness,  wondering  what  was 
the  matter  with  her,  remembered,  and  put 
out  her  hand  to  her  husband's  pillow,  to  see 
if  he  had  come  to  bed  ;  but  finding  it  empty, 
turned  away  with  a  sigh  half  of  anger  hall 
of  alarm  at  his  absence  and  tried  to  sleep, 
but  when  hour  after  hour  passed 'on,  and 
the  sky  showed  streaks  of  light  through 
the  clear  window  pane,  she  sprang  up  ter- 
rified, and  hurrying  on  her  clothes,  trembl- 
ing in  every  limb,  ran  down  to  the  old 
sitting-room  where  she  had  left  him, — her 
heart  stirred  with  the  first  anger  she  had 
ever  felt  towards  him, — but  he  was  not 
there.  Full  of  wild  apprehensions  and 
scarcely  able  to  walk,  she  was  so  agitated 
with  she  knew  not  what,  she  dragged 
herself  along  until  she  came  tc  the  "  work- 
room," and  with  a  sick  fear  at  her  heart  of 
not  finding  him  there,  she  softly  opened 
the  door — and  there,  his  head  leaning  back 
on  his  chair,  he  was  sound  asleep,  with  a 
look  of  such  peace  and  joy  and  a  smile  of 
such  perfect  restfulness  on  his  countenance 
that  Mrs.  Flemming  stopped  half  way, 
wondering  if  it  could  be  the  red  and 
golden  light  from  the  morning  sun  that 
brightened  up  her  husband's  grand  massive 
face  with  such  strange  soft  brightness. 
He  stirred  at  the  moment;  and  the  book 
falling  from  his  hand  to  the  floor,  awoke 
him.* 

[to  be  COXTIXtJKD.] 

•  This  narrative  was  commenced  two  years  ago. 
Elder  Flemming's  conversion,  from  reading  "Mll- 
ner's  End  of  Controversy, "  occurred  more  than 
forty  years  ago,  and  another  imUvidual,  of  whom 
we  knew,  had  her  doubts  entirely  silenced  by  a 


THE  RO.MA.\  CATAC0.1IBS, 
And  their  Conoectlon  with  CAthtlic  Dof  na. 

FBOM  THE  OEHMAN  OP   RRV.   M.  WOLTEB,  BT  KBT. 
J.  JL   BEBORATH. 

(CONTINUBD.) 

"  Sed  tu  qui  legis,  ora  pro  me  ct  (h)abca8  Doml- 
num  protectorem." — C<itac4nnbt  of  Pontianu*. 

The  catacombs,  although  principally 
constructed  to  serve  as  burial-places  for 
the  early  christians  of  both  sexes,  and  of 
all  ranks  and  ages,  served  yet  another 
purpose,  which  was  given  them  in  conse- 
quence of  the  peculiar  circumstances  of 
the  times.  During  the  days  of  the  early 
persecutions,  namely,  they  became  places 
of  temporary  retreat  for  the  pope,  the 
clergy  and  such  of  the  people  as  were  most 
bitterly  persecuted  by  the  rulers  of  the 
state;  at  the  same  time  they  served  for  all 
the  faithful  as  places  in  which  they  could 
occasionally  assemble  for  the  purpose  of 
taking  part  in  the  public  worship  of  the 
Church. 

For  this  latter  purpose  the  chambers, 
i.  c,  the  various  rooms  or  grottoes  exca- 
vated with  the  view  of  affording  burial  to 
all  the  members  of  any  given  family  or 
some  particularly  distinguished  martyr, 
soon  proved  altogether  too  small.  Hence 
it  became  customary  to  excavate  regular 
chapels,  more  elaborately  finished,  along 
the  various  passages.  These  chapels  in- 
variably contained  an  arcosolium,  or  else 
had  an  altar  that  was  built  over  the  coffined 
remains  of  some  saint.  Alongside  or  be- 
hind this  altar  stood  the  bishop^s  chair, 
while  along  the  wall  there  ran  a  stone 
bench  for  the  clergy.  The  credence-tables 
were  either  niches  cut  in  the  wall,  or  else 
projecting  plates  of  rock.  On  one  side  of 
the  altar  was  generally  the  so-called  choir 

copy  of  the  same  work  which  she  got  from  an 
ignorant  Irish  woman,  who  kept  a  little  catholic 
library  in  Baltimore,  twenty-flve  years  ago.  The 
writer  makes  this  explanation,  lest  some  might 
think  we  are  making  use  of  "Gropings  after  the 
Truth,"  by  Dr.  Huntington. 


252 


AVE      MARIA. 


or  cbapel  for  the  men,  while  the  women 
had  another,facingthefir8t,  on  the  opposite 
side.  A  double  ventilator,  or  luminare^ 
opening  on  the  ceilings  of  both  these 
chapels  and  uniting  into  one  directly  above 
the  passage,  served  to  furnish  the  worship- 
pers with  a  constant  supply  of  fresh  air. 
Sometimes  there  is  yet  a  plain  third  hall, 
connected  with  the  presbytery  in  such  a 
manner  that  those  assembled  there  may 
hear,  but  cannot  see,  what  is  being  done 
in  the  church  proper.  In  these  halls  the 
penitents  and  catechumens  are  wont  to 
assemble. 

It  was  in  these  strange  crypts  that  from 
St.  Peter  down  to  Marcellus  and  Eusebius 
a  long  succession  of  popes  were  forced  to 
make  their  homes.  Such  was  the  case,  for 
instance,  with  the  holy  pope  Cajus, — a 
nephew  of  the  cruel  Diocletian, — who 
dwelt  for  eight  full  years  in  the  catacombs. 
It  was  here  that  those  holy  popes  for  the 
most  part  instructed  and  baptized  the 
faithful;  here  that  they  ordained  their 
priests,  and  here  also  that  they  laid  the 
foundations  of  Church  discipline.  From 
within  these  hallowed  retreats  they  gov- 
erned the  entire  flock  of  Christ,  issued 
their  decrees,  and  administered  their  high 
oflice  of  bishops  and  apostles.  Again,  it 
was  from  these  places  that  they  sent  forth 
the  faithful,  made  strong  by  the  bread  of 
life,  to  contend  in  the  arena  for  the  mar- 
tyr's crown;  and  from  here  that  they 
eventually  came  forth  themselves  in  order 
to  give  up  their  lives  for  Christ. 

The  sacred  inviolability  which  even  in 
the  eyes  of  a  heathen  attached  to  all  cem- 
eteries, and  the  secret  fear  of  meeting  with 
unknown  dangers  in  the  mazes  of  these 
strange  labyrinths,  served  to  render  these 
spots  a  comparatively  safe  retreat  from 
their  bitter  and  relentless  enemies.  Still 
there  are  cases  on  record  where  even  all 
these  considerations  ceased  to  render  the 
catacombs  a  safe  retreat  from  the  persecu- 
tions of  those  who  had  sworn  to  extermin- 
ate the  name  and  religion  of  Christ.  Thus, 
St.  Emerentiana  was  stoned  to  death  in 
one  of  these  crypts,  St.  Candida  was  hurled 
down  one  of  the  luminaria  and  crushed, 


while  on  another  occasion  an  entire  con- 
gregation of  christians  were  buried  alive 
near  the  graves  of  the  holy  martyrs  Chry- 
santhus  and  Daria.  In  like  manner,  dur- 
ing the  year  261,  the  holy  Pope  Sixtus  II, 
while  celebrating  the  adorable  myster- 
ies in  the  Catacombs,  was  set  upon  and 
put  to  death  in  company  with  four  assist- 
ant deacons,  while  but  a  short  time 
before  another  holy  pope  had  shared  the 
same  fate.  We  have  reference  here  to 
St.  Stephen  I.  At  the  command  of  the 
emperor  he  was  dragged  to  the  temple 
of  Mars,  whence  he  escaped  by  a  miracle 
from  the  hands  of  his  executioners  and 
hastened,  together  with  his  clergy,  to  hide 
in  the  catacombs  of  Calistus.  Here 
for  a  long  time  he  remained  in  peace, 
and  ministered  as  chief  pastor  to  his  ever 
growing  flock  that  gathered  around  him. 
One  evening,  after  the  burning  heat  of 
an  August  day,  the  faithful  were  again  as- 
sembling, as  was  their  custom,  to  hear  the 
word  of  God  and  assist  at  the  sacred  func- 
tions. A  casual  stroller  along  the  Ap- 
pian  Way,  on  the  outskirts  of  the  city, 
might  have  easily  noticed  from  time  to 
time  how  deeply  muffled  forms,  now  one 
by  one  and  then  again  in  small  groups, 
were  silently  and  hastily  gliding  through 
the  dim  twilight  and  disappearing  behind 
the  wall  of  an  isolated  country  villa.  They 
are  christians,  hurrying  to  the  cemetery 
of  Lucina,  which  is  only  a  branch  of  the 
catacombs  of  Calistus,  where  they  expect 
to  be  present  at  the  early  morning  service. 
The  password  given,  a  little  gate  opens 
to  admit  them,  and  they  are  silently  tread- 
ing the  dimly  lighted  subterranean  pas- 
sages. At  last  they  have  arrived  at  the 
end  of  their  journey.  The  women,  all 
deeply  veiled,  turn  to  the  left,  where  they 
meet  the  presiding  matron,  whom  they 
salute,  and  then  pass  on  to  their  places.  The 
men  turn  into  a  chapel  to  the  right,  the 
entrance  to  which  is  guarded  by  an  eccle- 
siastic. The  ceilings  and  walls  of  the 
chapels  are  decorated  with  symbolical 
paintings,  around  which  the  soflt  light  of 
the  lamps  below  seems  to  throw  a  peculiar 
halo  that  is  both  impressive  and  charming. 


AVE     MARIA. 


253 


All  the  surround  ings  aro  calculated  to  im- 
press one  with  a  feeling  of  awe  and  devo- 
tion. In  the  l>aekgvound  of  the  sanc- 
tuary there  rises  above  the  tomb  of  some 
martyr  a  plain  altar,  on  which  a  deacon  is 
already  engaged  in  preparing  the  sacred 
vessels.  The  faithful,  as  they  enter,  de- 
posit their  offerings — consisting  of  bread 
and  wine — in  a  niche,  and  then  remain 
standing  in  their  allotted  places  while  the 
clergy  enter  the  presbytery  and  make  the 
necessary  preparations  for  the  Holy  Sacri- 
fice. The  leading  figure  of  the  scene, 
however,  is  the  venerable  person  of  Saint 
Stephen,  sitting  on  his  massive  chair 
of  marble.  With  the  anxious  and  loving 
look  of  a  father  he  casts  a  glance  over  the 
chosen  little  band  around  him,  and  then 
he  arises  from  his  throne.  He  now  opens 
his  prophetic  lips,  and  the  words  of  peace 
and  comfort  that  issue  therefrom  are  like 
a  mighty  stream  that  takes  the  assembly 
by  storm  and  sways  them  to  and  fro 
under  the  impulse  of  its  electrical  current. 
This  done,  the  high-priest  ascends  the 
altar^  and  with  his  face  turned  towards 
the  people  he  begins  the  celebration  of  the 
tacred  mysteries.  What  a  heavenly  fire 
seems  to  glow  within  him,  and  shine  forth 
from  his  countenance,  as  he  lifts  up  his 
hands  in  prayer!  How  his  eyes  flash  with 
more  than  earthly  joy  when  the  Lamb  of 
God  lies  incarnate  before  him !  Is  it, 
perhaps,  a  presentiment  of  approaching 
martyrdom  and  subsequent  bliss  that  has 
moved  the  venerable  old  bishop  to  tears? 
List ! — The  clatter  of  arms  is  heard,  and 
the.  red  glare  of  approaching  torches  is 
seen  in  the  gallery.  A  mob  is  approaching. 
They  are  dreaded  hirelings  of  the  emperor. 
The  litminare  has  borne  to  their  ears  the 
sacred  songs  of  the  little  congregation, 
and  has  revealed  the  placeof  their  retreat. 
Like  wild  beasts  the  soldiers  come  rush- 
ing on.  But  all  of  a  sudden  they  halt  at 
the  entrance  of  the  chapol,  as  if  rooted 
there  by  a  supernatural  power.  The  holy 
pope  finishes  the  sacrifice,  prays  for  his 
persecutors,  and  takes  his  seat  again  in 
perfect  composure.  Not  until  now  do 
the  solaicrs  advance  with  drawn  swords. 


and  before  many  minutes  the  gray-headed 
old  man  who  had  just  oftered  up  to  God  so 
great  and  adorable  a  sacrifice,  lies  himself 
on  the  sandstone  floor  a  bleeding  and 
lifeless  victim  for  the  cause  of  Christ  and 
His  holy  Church. 

[to  be  continukd.] 


<  ■  ♦  «  » 


OrilinaUoi. 

A  Pontifical  High  Mass  was  celebrated 
on  Sunday,  March  7th,  by  Right  Rev. 
Bishop'  Luers,  at  Notre  Dame,  Ind.,  who 
conferred  on  Rev.  P.  Lauth,  S.  S.  C,  the 
order  of  the  I*riesthood.  The  ceremony 
was  very  imposing,  and  was  followed  by 
an  eloquent  sermon  from  the  Right  Rev. 
Bishop. 

On  the  19th  (St.  Joseph's  day),  Most  Rev. 
Archbishop  Odin  conferred  the  sacred  or- 
der of  priesthood,  in  the  archiepiscopal 
church,  on  the  Rev.  P.  Byrne,  of  the 
Lazarist  Congregation. — AT.  O.  Star. 

On  Saturd.ay,  March  13th,  Rev.  Edward 
Hamon,  S.  J.,  was  ordained  deacon,  and 
the  Rev.  Francis  Aloysius  Spencer,  of  the 
Community  of  St.  Paul  the  Apostle,  was 
promoted  to  the  priesthood. —  Tablet. 

Diocese  of  Dubuque. — Rt.  Rev.  Bishop 
Hennessey,  D.  D.,  of  Dubuque,  conferred 
priesthood  on  Revs.  A.  F.  Monahan  and 
S.  F.  Wieland. 

Cleveland. — On  Sunday,  March  Vth, 
the  Right  Rev.  A.  Rappe,  D.  D.,  Bishop  of 
Cleveland,  held  an  ordination  in  the  ca- 
thedral of  that  town,  at  which  the  follow- 
ing gentlemen  were  raised  to  the  dignity 
of  the  priesthood  :  Of  the  Diocese  of  Cleve- 
land, Rev.  Thomas  Conlan,  Rev.  Joseph 
Eiler,  Rev.  Nicholas  Flammang,  Rev. 
Michael  Pitts,  and  Rev.  Patrick  Quigley  ; 
of  the  Diocese  of  Erie,  Rev.  P.  McGrath. 

Diocese  of  Philadelphia. —  Tuesday 
morning,  March  ICth,  was  made  memora- 
ble in  the  history  of  the  Church  in  Phila- 
delphia by  the  transferring  of  the  remains 
of  Rt.  Rev.  Michael  Egan,  O.  S.  F.,  and 
Rt.  Rev.  Henry  Conwell,  D.  D.,  the  first 


254: 


AVE     MARIA 


two  bishops  of  our  diocese,  from  their  for- 
mer resting  places,  and  depositing  them  in 
the  vault  prepared  for  them,  under  the 
grand  altar  of  the  cathedral.  The  occa- 
sion was  marked  by  the  most  solemn  and 
imposing  ceremonies  prescribed  by  the 
Pontifical  for  such  an  event.  Our  Right 
Kev.  Bishop,  wishing  to  leave  nothing  un- 
done that  would  add  to  the  solemnity  of 
the  occasion,  and  to  the  honor  due  to  his 
worthy  predecessors,  issued  invitations 
not  only  to  the  Rev.  clergy  under  his 
episcopal  jurisdiction,  but  also  to  the  Rt. 
Rev.  Prelates  of  the  Province  of  Baltimore. 
Bishop  Lynch,  of  Charleston,  preached 
an  eloquent  sermon  on  the  occasion. —  Cath. 
Standard. 

Obitoary. 

The  Right  Rev.  Guido  Ignatius  Cha- 
brat,  D.  D.,  who  after  sharing  the  mis- 
sionary labors  and  merits  of  Bishop  Fla- 
get  in  Kentucky  for  many  years,  was  con- 
secrated his  coadjutor  on  July  the  20th, 
1834,  and  resigned  in  1847  in  consequence 
of  ill  health  and  opthalmia  which  finally 
resulted  in  blindness,  died  in  his  native 
place,  France,  on  the  2l8t  of  last  Novem- 
ber, in  his  82d  year. —  Catholic  Telegraph. 

Died. — Rev.  Philip  A.  O'Farrell,  pas- 
tor of  St.  Mary's  church,  Phcenixville, 
Pa.,  at  the  pastoral  residence,  on  the  9th 
of  March. —  Cath.  Standard. 

Died. — In  St.  Paul,  Minnesota,  on  Mon- 
day, 29th  ult.,  the  Rev.  Demetrius  Maro- 
gna,  formerly  prior  of  St.  Vincent's  Ab- 
bey, Westmoreland  county,  Pennsylvania. 

Rkv.  James  A.  D'Arcy  died  on  the  24th 
of  March,  in  Madison,  N.  J.,  at  the  presby- 
tery of  St.  Vincent's  church. 

May  they  rest  in  peace. 


Religious  Receptions. 

On  the  19th  ult.,  at  the  convent  of  the 
Sisters  of  St.  Joaeph,  Carondelet,  Mo., 
eight  novices,  who  had  completed  the  term 
of  their  novitiate,  pronounced  their  usual 
religious  vows,  according  to  the  form  of 


the  institute;  also  three  young  ladies  re- 
ceived the  veil. 

The  following  are  the  names  of  those  ad- 
mitted to  their  holy  profession: — 

Sr.  M.  Camilla  Densberger,  from  Peoria, 
111.;  Sr.  31.  Pancratia  Leddy,  from  St.  Paul, 
Minn.;  Sr  M.  De  Britto  O'Xeil,  Sr.  M.  Mau- 
rice Xolan,  Sr.  M.  Candida  McGrath,  Sr. 
M.  Sebastiana  Nevill,  from  Salem,  Mass.  ; 
Sr.  M.  Paul  of  the  Cross  O'Niel,  Sr.  M.  AI- 
phonsina  Kennedy,  from  St.  Paul,  Minn. 

The  young  ladies  who  received  the  veil 
are  as  follows: — Miss  Ellen  Fogarty,  in  re- 
ligion, Sister  Mary  of  the  Infant  Jesus; 
Miss  Frances  lienson,  in  religion  Sister 
Edward  of  Mary;  Miss  Catherine  McGin- 
nis,  in  religion,  Sister  M.  Magdalene  of  the 
Passion.  The  Rev.  Abbe  St.  Cyr,  chap- 
lain of  the  community,  officiated  on  the 
occasion  and  delivered  a  very  pathetic 
discourse. 


HILDREN'S 


EPARTMENT. 


Tlie  Legend  of  Easter  Eggs. 

By  Fitz-James  O'BmBX. 

"  Dearest  papa,"  says  my  boy  to  me, 
As  he  merrily  climbed  on  his  father's  knee, . 
"  Why  are  those  eggs  that  you  see  me  hold 
Colored  so  finely  with  blue  and  gold  ? 
And  what  is  the  beautiful  bird  that  lays 
Such  beautiful  eggs  on  Easter  days?" 

You  have  heard,  my  boy,  of  the  Man  who  died, 

Crowned  with  keen  thorns  and  crucified ; 

And  how  Joseph,  the  wealthy — whom  God  reward — 

Cared  for  the  corpse  of  his  martyred  Lord, 

And  piously  tombed  it  within  the  rock. 

And  closed  the  gate  with  a  mighty  block. 

Now  close  by  the  tomb  a  fair  tree  grew. 
With  pendulous  leaves  and  blossoms  of  blue. 
And  deep  in  the  green  tree's  shadowy  breast 
A  beautiful  singing  bird  sat  on  her  nest. 
Which  was  bordered  with  mosses  like  malachite, 
And  held  four  eggs  of  an  ivory  white. 
Now,  when  the  bird  from  her  dim  recess 
Beheld  the  Lord  in  His  burial  dress. 
And  looked  on  the  heavenly  face  so  pale, 
And  the  dear  feet  pierced  with  the  cruel  nail. 
Her  heart  nigh  broke  with  a  sudden  pang, 
And  out  of  the  depth  of  her  sorrow  she  sang. 


AVE       MARIA. 


256 


All  night  long  till  the  morn  waft-u|> 

She  sttt  and  sang  in  her  mos.s- wreathed  cup, 

A  song  of  Horrow  as  wild  and  shrill 

As  tile  homeless  wind  when  it  roams  the  hill ; 

So  full  of  tears,  so  loud  and  long. 

That  the  grief  of  the  world  seemed  turned  to  a  song. 

But  soon  there  came  through  the  weeping  night 
A  glimmering  angel  clothed  in  white  ; 
And  he  rolled  the  stone  from  the  tomb  away, 
Where  the  Lord  of  the  heavens  and  the  earth  lay, 
And  Christ  arose  in  the  cavern's  gloom. 
And  in  living  lustre  aime  from  the  tomb. 

Now  the  bird  that  sat  in  the  heart  of  the  tree 
Beheld  the  celestial  mystery, 
And  its  heart  was  filled  with  a  sweet  delisrht, 
And  it  poured  a  song  on  the  throbbing  night, 
Notes,  climbing  notes,  still  higher,  higher, 
They  shoot  to  heaven  like  spears  of  fire. 

When  the  glittering  white-robed  angel  heard 
The  sorrowing  song  of  that  grieving  bird, 
And  heard  the  following  chant  of  mirth 
That  hailed  Christ  risen  from  the  earth. 
He  said:  "Sweet  bird,  be  forever  blest; 
Tliyself,  thy  eggs,  and  tliy  moss-wreathed  nest." 

And  ever,  my  child,  since  that  blessed  night, 
Where  death  bowed  down  to  the  Lord  of  light, 
Tl»e  eggs  of  that  sweet  bird  changed  the^  liue, 
And  burn  with  red,  and  gold,  and  blue; 
Reminding  mankind,  in  their  simple  way, 
Of  the  holy  marvel  of  Easter  day. 

— National  Intdligeneer. 


THE  FISHER.1IA^'S  CUILDREIV; 

OR, 

The  Reward  of  Hospitality. 

[TmHUt«d  from  the  Freoch  for  tb«  Ati  Masia.J 

'by  l.  k.  ml. 


[concluded.] 

The  days  glided  by;  the  recovery  of  the 
fislicrman  was  slow.  His  limbs  remained 
numb,  and  at  length  the  physician  told 
them  that  Germain  would  never  again  be 
able  to  work,  and  it  will  be  with  difficulty 
that  he  could  w:ilk  around  his  cottage. 

Ah !  with  what  grief  Marie  heard  this 
sad  decree;  what  would  become  of  them? 
No  more  fishing  I  Louis  was  scarcely  con- 
valescent, and  would  not  be  t^blo  to  assist 
them  for  a  long  time. 

The   poor  child    formed   a    Fesolution. 


As  soon  as  her  father  wao  a  little  better  slie 
would  confide  him  to  the  care  of  Stephen, 
and  go  to  the  city,  where  slie  could  obtain 
some  employment  wliereby  to  support 
her  disablcil  f:ither.  Providence  would  do 
the  rest. 

Strength rt'turned  to  the  good  fisherman: 
he  felt  able  to  sit  up,  and  Murie  took  ad- 
vantage of  this  to  make  the  bed  on  which 
her  father  had  lain  fur  such  a  long  time. 
But,  O  surprise !  O  benefit  of  heaven ! 
In  shaking  the  straw  bolster  and  removing 
the  case  that  surrounded  it,  a  paper  fell 
with  a  slight  noise  on  the  floor.  Marie 
opened  it,  and  found  it  contained  ten  gold 
pieces,  and  the  following  words  written 
with  a  pencil:  "  Gratitude  to  hospitality. '*'' 
The  fisherman's  daughter  guessed  the  mys- 
tery. The  bed  on  which  the  stranger 
had  slept  was  the  one  occupied  by  the  un- 
fortunate Germain  since  his  accident,  and 
had  not  been  made  since  the  day  of  the 
tempest.  The  generous  traveller,  as  gen- 
erous as  he  was  beneficent,  had  there 
concealed  the  testimony  of  his  gratitude. 
Marie  ran  joyfully  to  show  the  treasure 
to  her  father.  Her  heart  was  rendered 
happy;  she  would  work  for  her  father,  but 
would  not  be  under  the  necessity  of  leav- 
ing her  native  place.  At  this  thought 
she  blessed  in  her  heart  the  kind  stranger, 
and  only  formed  one  wish ;  that  was,  to 
offer  him  the  homage  of  her  gratitude. 

Marie  went  to  the  city  to  make  various 
purchases ;  not  for  herself,  but  for  her  father, 
and  returned  home  after  procuring  him  a 
softer  bed,  and  warmer  clothing  to  pre- 
serve him  from  the  cold  of  winter. 


The  trees  had  already  lost  their  cover- 
ing, and  the  forest  paths  were  strewed 
with  the  yellow  leaves  of  autumn.  A 
bright  fire  burned  on  the  fisherman's  hearth ; 
Marie  was  seated  near  her  father,  work- 
ing; Stephen  was  reading,  and  Fidele 
sleeping  at  their  feet. 

The  quietness  was  interrupted  by  a 
knock  at  the  door,  and  before  Marie  oould 
answer  it  the  latch  was  raised,  the  door 
opened  and  the  benefactor  of  the  cottage 
and  preserver   of  C^ormain    stood   in    the 


256 


AVE      MARIA. 


midst  of  the  unfortunate  ones  be  had  so 
nobly  aided. 

What  a  happy  meeting!  What  sweet 
tears  flowed  at  that  moment,  and  what 
beautiful  expressions  of  gratitude  were 
offered  the  stranger !  He  hastened  to  put 
an  end  to  them  by  saying :  "  Let  us  set 
out;  the  winter  days  are  short;  another 
abode  is  prepared,  and  kind  friends  await 
you  there."  At  a  signal  from  the  gentle- 
man two  robust  men  entered  the  cottage,  and 
taking  the  fisherman  in  their  arms  placed 
him  on  a  litter  that  waited  at  the  door. 
His  children  followed  silently,  astonished 
at  all  that  passed  but  not  venturing  to 
ask  an  explanation,  while  old  Fidele  ran 
barking  before  them.  A  carriage  awaited 
them  on  the  highway,  in  which  Germain 
and  the  children  were  placed,  the  stran- 
ger seating  himself  with  them.  The  dog 
had  not  been  forgotten,  and  when  all  were 
in  order  the  vehicle  moved  off. 

It  passed  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  and 
thefisherman  and  his  children  saluted  witha 
sigh  and  a  prayer  the  image  of  the  holy 
protectress  they  venerated,  and  to  wihom 
each  day  they  paid  a  tribute  of  love  and 
gratitude. 

An  hour  had  scarcely  passed  before  the 
carriage  drew  up  befoi'e  the  door  of  a 
beautiful  country  residence ;  a  lady  ele- 
gantly dressed  and  a  young  man  in  coun- 
try attire  came  out  to  welcome  them. 

Scarcely  was  the  carriage  door  opened 
than  the  young  man  threw  himself  on  his 
knees  before  Germain,  exclaiming  :  "  Oh, 
my  father !  have  you  not  believed  me  un- 
grateful ?" 

"I  prayed  for  you,  ray  child,"  answered 
the  good  fisherman. 

Carried  in  the  arms  of  Louis,  Germain 
was  placed  in  an  arm-chair  on  rollers  that 
was  cosily  placed  for  him  in  a  snug  room 
on  the  ground  floor.  That,  with  another 
room,  formed  the  fisherman's  apartments. 
His  children  could  without  any  effort  lead 
him  out  on  the  lawn  that  stretched  out 
in  front  and  around  the  residence;  and 
with  the  aid  of  an  eye-glass  he  could  view 
the  sea,  the  holy  mountain  and  the  statue 
of  Our  Lady  of  Help. 


It  was  too  much.  The  hearts  of  the 
fisherman  and  his  children  were  over- 
powered beneath  the  weight  of  so  many 
generous  gifts,  so  many  delicate  atten- 
tions; they  could  not  express  what  they 
felt,  but  their  eloquent  looks  conveyed 
more  than  the  tongue  could  utter. 

Then  the  Count  of  St.  Elme,  for  we  now 
know  his  name,  related  how  he  had  the 
happiness  of  saving  Germain  and  Louis, 
and  how  he  formed  the  intention  of  ren- 
dering them  happy  during  their  lives 
when  he  learned  that  the  fisherman  was  no 
longer  able  to  earn  a  livelihood. 

"  Thanks  to  you,  my  dear  children,  for 
I  was  saved  from  certain  death  by  your 
touching  hospitality ;  and,"  continued  the 
Count  addressing  Marie  and  her  brother, 
"I  gained  an  important  lawsuit  raised  up 
by  powerful  enemies,  and  baffled  their 
plots  by  my  unexpected  presence.  I  shall 
recover  the  fortune  of  which  they  had  a 
ready  deprived  me  of  a  portion,  and  whic 
they  intended  to  deprive  me  of  entirely 
I  coiiflded  my  projects  to  Louis.  We  ar- 
range all  together ;  you  will  live  here 
without  any  fear  for  the  future.  Dis- 
gusted with  the  world  and  its  false  joys, 
I  wish  to  live  only  for  happiuMs  and 
usefulness;  and  I  have  resolved,  for  this, 
to  live  in  retirement.  My  wife  has  simi- 
lar tastes ;  like  me,  she  desires  only  one 
pleasure,  that  of  contributing  to  the  hap- 
piness of  others.  Heaven,"  he  added  tak- 
ing his  wife's  hand,  "has  deprived  us  of 
the  consolation  of  having  children:  you 
will  be  ours." 

"Ah !"  exclaimed  the  countess  extend- 
ing her  arms  to  the  fisherman's  children  : 
*'  You  saved  ^he  life  of  my  husband  ;  let 
me  be  your  mother." 

Stephen  and  Marie  were  folded  in  ner 
arms,  Louis  and  the  poor  fisherman  con- 
templating this  scene  with  delight.  Then 
the  Count  of  St.  Elme,  approaching  the 
old  man,  took  liis  hand  and  said  in  a  voice 
husky  with  emotion  :  "  Oh,  Germain,  the 
precept  is  indeed  noble  that  you  have 
impressed  upon  the  hearts  of  ycmr  chil- 
dren:  "  Render  whatever  services  you  can 
that  ic  ill  add  to  the  happiness  of  others  f^ 


11 


AVE   MARIA. 

^  Catholir  3f ournal  AmUA  t0  the  planar  of  the  §te^$ed[  firgk 


Vol.  y. 


NOTEE  DAME,  INDIANA,  APRIL  31,  1869. 


No.  18. 


THE  NOKTH  OF  MART. 


1.  The  Parity  of  Mary. 


In  the  blue  arch  of  heaven  all  sweet  sounds  are 

ringing, 
The  hum  and  the  buzz  and  the  birdies'  sweet  sing- 
ing, 
To  the  newly  formed  leaflet  the  dew-drop  is  cling- 
All  nature  is  roused  from  her  sleep ;    [itig : 
In  the  sunbeam  so  bright  all  colors  are  glancing, 
The  brooklet's  clear  waters  in  gladness  are  dancing, 
Extatic  emotion  each  heart  is  entrancing — 
Is  thrilling  with  rapture  too  deep. 

All  the  earth  with  the  promise  of  loveliness  teem- 
ing! 

The  poet  in  holy  extatics  is  dreaming ; 

The  brightness  of  Truth,  in  its  essence  seems 
beaming ! — 
Man  feels  he  converses  with  God. 

The  sunbeams  of  heaven  seem  to  chase    away 
sadness, 

The  footsteps  of  morning  are  mirrors  of  gladness, 

Gone!  (would 'twere  for  ever!)  is  earth's  dreary 
madness , — 
All  hidden,  of  justice  the  rod. 

The  air  breathes  but  fragrance;  the  senses  salu- 
ting 
The  tones  of  sweet  music  unseen,.<^xecuting 
The  melodies  caught  when,  the  spheres  institu- 
ting. «. 
The  seraphs  intoned  their  sweet  lore ; 

When  sound,  sense  and  beauty,  as  yet  undivided, 
'Mid  harmonies  thrilling,  frwn  sphere  to  sphere 

glided, 
And,  order  once  given,  by  angel  bands  guided 
Taught  all  things  their  God  to  adore. 

And  Mary,  the  daughter  of  earth,  is  arisen 

To  claim  for  this  earth  the  sweet  union   with 

Heaven, 
The  pvomise,  of  old,  to  &llen  man  given. 


The  Spring  that  should  all  things  restore : 
The  sun  of  salvation  through  her  glides  to  earth, 
Its  action  renewing  the  soul's  joyous  birth, 
Man  goes  forth  anew,  thus  remodelled  in  worth. 

The  good  and  the  true  to  adore. 

Once  more  the  divine  is  with  man's  action  blended. 
Once  more  is  the  human  by  mother-heart  tended, 
A  Mother  who  now  to  her  Son  is  ascended. 

To  plead  for  her  children  on  earth : 
To  plead  that  the  flowerets  of  promise  now  given 
May  be  shielded  from  frost,  from  unworthy  aims 

riven, 
That  purified  thus,  they  may  bear  fhiit  for  heaven, — 

Her  children  of  loveliest  birth ! 

Yes,  rightly,  rightly  is  this  sweet  month 
of  May  dedicated  to  thee,  sweet  Mother ! 
for  all  joy  and  promise  are  mirrored  in  its 
sunny  skies  and  in  the  untarnished  ver- 
dure of  the  new  springing  clothing  of 
the  fields  and  forest.  The  earth  once 
cursed  for  the  fault  of  Eve  seems  to  be 
blest  anew  in  May  for  the  obedience  of 
Mary.  That  fresh  miracle  that  renews 
itself  every  Spring,  the  return  to  life  of 
the  frozen  earth,  purified  by  ice  from  the 
exuberancies  and  contagious  evils  it  had 
contracted  from  the  heats  of  the  past 
summer,  assuming  faultlessness  and  prom- 
ising all  things  to  vigilance  and  industry : 
is  not  this  an  image  of  thee,  when  pure, 
faultless,  the  angel  found  thee  vigilant 
in  prayer? — unconscious  of  sin,  yet  in 
thy  humility  guarding  against  it  by  con- 
stant communication  with  Him  in  whom 
resides  essential  purity :  He  in  whose 
eyes  the  angels  are  not  free  from  folly. 

O  purity  of  Mary  I  Let  us  begin  this 
month  of  May  by  a  meditation  on  that 
virtue  so  dear  to  God,  and  take  thee  for 
our  model.  "  Blessed  are  the  pure  in 
lieart,   for   they   shall   see   God ! "      The 


274 


AVE      MARIA 


passions  of  mankind  raise  up,  as  it  were, 
a  blind  between  them  and  the  Sun  of 
righteousness;  tliey  crowd  out  spiritual- 
ity, they  exterminate  even  the  desire  of 
possessing  it.  "The  carnal  man  cannot 
discern  spiritual  things:"  the  poor  blind 
groper  after  good,  ignorant  even  of  his 
blindness,  falls  into  the  ditch;  and  if 
in  its  muddy  waters  the  stars  of  heaven 
are  in  any  way  reflected,  there  he  cries 
out  exultingly  that  he  has  made  a  dis- 
covery. 

To  be  human,  and  unconscious  of  the 
KiGHT  to  a  divine  nature  :  this  is  the  mis- 
erable state  of  the  majority  of  mankind. 
Could  we  once  bring  them  to  a  conscious- 
ness of  what  they  have  lost,  to  an  aspira- 
tion after  better  things — something  might 
be  done;  but  passion,  selfishness,  ob- 
scure the  view ;  only  the  pure  in  heart 
can  see  God ; — and  the  pure  in  heart  see 
God  in  exact  proportion  to  their  purity. 
God  dwells  in  the  human  soul,  and  is  seen 
by  the  spiritual  eyes  exactly  as  there  is 
ROOM  for  Him ;  exactly  as  the  soul  is  not 
occupied,  is  not  engrossed  with,  is  not 
attached  to  other  things.  Purify  yoiir 
soul,  if  you  would  know  God. 

And  what  is  it  to  know  God?  To 
know  God  is  to  know  the  life  and  spring 
of  being ;  to  trace  order,  harmony,  sub- 
limity and  beauty  to  their  source ;  to  com- 
prehend Truth,  and  dwell  in  the  love  of 
Truth :  comprehending  its  developments 
as  it  manifests  Itself  in  revelation  or  in 
nature.  To  know  God  is  to  penetrate  the 
idea  underlying  creation,  to  enter  into 
its  spirit,  and  so  co-operate  with  its  re- 
quirements ;  it  is  the  highest  exercise  of 
the  highest  faculties  of  man.  This  is  as 
Mary  knew  God ;  this  is  as  man  was  cre- 
ated to  know  God.  We  cannot  begin 
from  Mary's  standpoint;  she  was  created 
pure  and  in  harmony  with  God  :  we  have 
to  undergo  the  purifying  process  ere  we 
begin ;  we  must  do  violence  to  our  lower 
natures ;  we  must  unlearn  selfishness,  we 
must  learn  to  aspire  after  a  higher  life, 
we  must  desire  God.  I  fear  me  this  is 
where  we  fail.  We  desire  riches,  we  de- 
sire power;  we  desire  fame,  worldly  ap- 


preciation— and  thus  we  shot  out  God. 
*'  Except  a  man  forsake  all,  he  cannot  be 
My  disciple,"  says  the  Lord.  This  does 
not  mean  (for  every  one  at  least)  a  con- 
vent life  ;  but  it  means,  if  you  seek  God 
in  earnest,  you  must  shut  out  worldly 
aims,  sensual  desires;  God  will  not  dwell 
in  a  divided  heart.  God  alone  can  confer 
happiness;  He  alone  is  the  essential  Beauty, 
the  essential  Good ;  happiness  is  out  of 
the  question  until  He  confers  it,  but  He 
confers  it  only  according  to  the  law  He 
has  established :  a  law  of  order,  in  which 
passion  and  even  allowable  human  grati- 
fication is  rendered  subordinate  to  the 
great  aim  of  existence — that  of  restoring 
man  to  his  heirship  as  a  living,  co-oper- 
ating child  of  the  living,  acting  God — 
his  Father.  It  was  this  that  rendered 
Mary  so  pure;  this  that  occasioned  her 
beauty,  even  her  corporal  beauty,  to  be 
so  exquisite;  she  was  a  harmonized  hu- 
man being — in  active,  living  commu- 
nication with  the  creative  Spirit,  in  whose 
image  she  was  created,  to  comprehend, 
love  and  co-operate  with  Him.  His  ac- 
tion in  her  regard  was  life-giving  in- 
spiration ;  her  action,  was  keeping  her- 
self in  a  state  to  receive  that  inspiration 
and  guide  her  life  by  its  teachings;  this 
is  Mary's  purity !  by  which  she  was  ena- 
bled so  to  co-operate  with  God  as  to  be- 
come the  Mother  of  the  Holy  One  !  Does 
it  teach  us  no  lesson?  Ah,  yes!  we  will 
strive  to  emulate  that  purity  which  brings 
such  lofty  gifts  in  its  train;  we  will  sub- 
due pride,  selfishness,  and  sensuality,  and 
seek  after  the  higher  gifts  of  the  spiriL 

Mary,  Mother — aid  us,  pray  for  us.  Tbou 
knowest  how  much  there  is  to  do ;  but  one 
word  of  thine,  dear  Mother,  will  bring  us 
grace.   'T)h,  leave  not  that  word  unspoken. 

M.  A.  Gbll. 


To  dally  with  temptation,  not  to  arise 
manfully  and  fight  it  away,  will  betray  in 
you  a  liking  for  it.  But  if  we  are  annoyed 
by  it,  and  are  earnest  in  our  hatred  of  its 
object,  that  very  temptation  to  commit  sin 
turns  into  the  means  of  gaining  a  glorious 
triumph  of  virtue. — St.  Francis  de  Sale*. 


M. 


AVE      MARIA. 


275 


THE  ROMIN  rATA(0!MBS, 

And  their  CoBDeetloi  with  Catholie  Dogma. 

(continued.) 

FBO>I  THE   OERSCAN  OP   REV.   M.   WOLTEK,  BT  REV. 
J.   A.   BERUBATH. 

"  Sed  tu  qui  legis,  ora  pro  me  et  (h)abeas  Domi- 
nam  protectorem." — Catacombs  of  PoiUuinut. 

We  have  now  pared  our  way  to  the  con- 
sideration of  the  catacombs  as  it  is  pro- 
posed in  these  pages.  These  sacred  burial- 
places,  after  having  been  robbed  and 
wrecked  by  the  barbarian  hordes  that 
swept  through  Italy  during  the  devastat- 
ing storms  of  their  European  invasion, 
were  subsequently  almost  completely  filled 
up  with  drift-sand  and  rubbish,  so  that 
they  were  gradually  almost,  if  not  entirely, 
forgotten.  Thus  at  the  time  of  the  Mal- 
tese savant,  Antonio  Bosio,  in  1593,  the 
catacombs  were  still  as  if  they  had  never 
been  oi>ened — an  unknown  and  therefore 
unappreciated  region  of  science.  But 
with  this  learned  man,  who  may  bo  prop- 
erly styled  the  Columbus  of  subterranean 
Rome,  a  new  era  dawned  for  those  hal- 
lowed places.  A  series  of  important  in- 
vestigations were  set  on  foot  which  served 
to  reawaken  the  interest  formerly  taken  in 
the  catacombs,  and  laid  the  foundation  for 
a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  same.  But 
it  was  reserved  to  our  own  century,  and 
more  particularly  to  the  glorious  reign  of 
his  Holiness  Pope  Pius  IX,  to  carry  these 
investigations  to  such  an  extent  that  their 
results  far  exceeded  even  the  most  san- 
guine expectations  of  their  friends  through- 
out the  world.  For  nearly  twenty  years 
Pope  Pius  IX,  like  "  a  second  Damasus^'''' 
has  carried  on  his  excavations  of  these  sa- 
cred places,  and  thereby  enabled  the  justly 
famous  De  Rossi  to  give  to  the  world,  in  a 
series  of  truly  classical  works,  a  vast  fund 
of  information  concerning  the  most  im- 
portant discoveries  made  in  that  depart- 
ment, and  to  build  up  from  the  given  ma- 
terial a  most  complete  and  overwhelming 
scientific  system  regarding  these  hallowed 


spots  and  the  place  which  they  justly  oc- 
cupy in  the  history  of  the  Church.  It  is 
only  when  these  works  shall  have  been  en- 
tirely completed  that  their  incalculable 
value  for  all  branches  of  science  can  be 
properly  estimated.  Still,  even  with  the 
aid  of  that  portion  which  is  now  at  our 
command,  we  hope  to  be  able  to  furnish  a 
by  no  means  insignificant  contribution  to 
Catholic  apologetics. 

IV. 

The  Church  Triumphant. 
As  we  have  already  seen,  the  holy  places 
from*  the  monuments  of  which  we  desire 
to  portray  the  primitive  Church,  are  first 
and  foremost  burial  places  for  the  dead. 
This  circumstance  of  itself  will  determine 
the  course  of  our  investigations.  These 
investigations  will  therefore  necessarily 
proceed  from  that  particular  group  of  dog- 
mas which  stands  in  most  intimate  con- 
nexion with  the  catacombs  in  their  capac- 
ity as  cemeteries,  namely  the  dogma  con- 
cerning the  communion  of  saints.  In  other 
words  we  shall  see  what  light  those  places 
throw  on  the  present  teaching  of  the 
Church  as  regards  the  Church  triumphant^ 
the  Church  militant,  and  the  Church  suf- 
fering. The  souls  of  the  departed  just — 
so  the  Catholic  faith  teaches  us — are  with 
God,  where  they  dwell  in  heavenly  peace 
and  are  filled  with  everlasting  bliss  and 
glory.  Let  us  see  now  whether  the  tombs 
that  have  been  unearthed  in  the  catacombs 
teach  us  the  same  truths.  In  making  our 
inquiries,  however,  we  shall  make  it  a  rule 
to  avail  ourselves  of  inscri])tions  and  ar- 
tistic representations  only  that  belong  to 
the  first,  second,  or  third  century,  and  even 
then,  to  be  as  brief  as  possible,  we  shall 
give  the  inscriptions  in  full  only  in  such 
cases  where  their  dogmatic  importance 
seems  to  justify  such  a  step.  What,  then, 
do  those  inscriptions  over  the  tombs  of 
the  catacombs  say  ?  "  Prima,  thou  livest 
in  the  glory  of  God,  and  in  the  peace  of 
Christ  our  Lord."  Vivis  in  gloria  Pbi 
et  in  pace.  "  Severianus,  full  of  charity 
and  innocence,  here  sleepeth  the  ^ieep  of 
peace;  his  soul  was  received  into  th*  light 


276 


AVE     MARIA. 


of  the  Lord.''''  In  luck  Domini  susceptus. 
"  To  Saxonia,  the  well-deserving ;  she  rests 
in  peace  in  the  eternal  house  of  God.'''' 
"  LaurentiuB  was  born  unto  eternity  at  the 
age  of  twenty  years;  he  rests  in  peace." 
Natus  est  in  J2TERNUM.  "  Ursina,"  "Ag- 
ape," "Alogia,"  "Felicissiraa,"  "Fortu- 
nata,"  etc.,  in  God  thou  shalt  live  in  peace 
"  alxDays^''''  ^^forever.^^  "  Herraaiscus,  my 
joy,  thou  livest  in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord." 
"  Marcian,  neophyte,  to  thee  the  heavens  are 
open;  thou  shalt  live  in  peace."  Cceli 
TiBi  PATENT,  VIVE8  IN  PACE.  And  finally : 
"  Alexander  is  not  dead,  but  liveth  above 
the  stars  .  .  .  after  an  exceedingly  short 
earth-life  he  now  shines  like  the  sun  in 
heaven.''^    In  ccelo  coruscat. 

The  departed  just,  therefore,  live  forever; 
they  are  assumed  into  the  splendor  of  God, 
the  house  of  the  Lord,  the  glory  of  Christ ; 
they  are  born  unto  eternity,  and  have  en- 
tered the  open  heavens  where  they  now 
shine  like  stars  in  the  firmament.  It  is 
this  truth  which,  like  a  powerful  and  most 
sweet  harmony,  rises  up  from  the  graves  of 
the  catacombs  and  infuses  comfort  and 
consolation  into  the  hearts  of  those  who 
are  still  compelled  to  linger  in  exile. 
What  a  solemn  protest,  then,  does  not  this 
triumphant  joy  and  this  gladsome  confi- 
dence of  the  apostolic  Church  enter  against 
the  cold  and  so-called  primitive  teaching 
of  the  Reformation,  which  knows  nothing 
of  a  Church  triu?nphant,  but  speaks  of 
Christ  alone  as  entering  into  heaven ; 
which  declares  as  "sinful"  even  "the  bare 
inquiry  as  to  whether  the  souls  of  the  just 
are  in  bliss;"  which  condemns  the  depart- 
ed to  a  dark,  indefinite  sleep-life,  and  con- 
signs them  for  thousands  of  years  to  the 
"  vestibule  of  heaven  "  as  to  an  exile  wh^re 
they  shall  have  to  wait  until  the  last  day 
for  the  promised  beatitude  ! 

V. 

The  Catholic  faith  does  not  confine  it- 
self to  the  glad  doctrine  that  the  souls  of 
the  just  enter  into  heaven  ;  it  also  teaches 
a  living  intercommunion  between  the  here 
and  the  hereafter,  or  betweeti  the  Church 
militant  and  the  Church  triumphant.     All 


the  redeemed  are  members  of  one  body  in 
Christ,  and  thus  they  form  a  society — an 
immense  family — that  is  bound  together 
by  the  bonds  of  charity.  Now  the  medium 
of  this  spiritual  union  is  prayer.  The 
blessed  in  heaven  give  us  the  benefit  of 
their  intercession  and  their  assistance, 
while  we  on  our  part  love  them,  venerate 
them,  and  call  upon  them  for  their  help. 
Such  is  the  doctrine  concerning  the  com- 
munion of  saints.  Let  us  now  look  about 
us  through  the  catacombs.  There  we 
meet,  especially  above  the  arcosolia  or  al- 
tar-tombs, with  numerous  representations 
of  martyrs  or  others  of  the  faithful  de- 
parted. These  representations  are  gener- 
ally surrounded  by  one  or  more  symbols 
suggestive  of  paradise,  such  as  flowers, 
birds,  and  branches  of  palm.  The  figures 
themselves  are  invariably  seen  in  an  atti- 
tude of  prayer.  The  uplifted  arms,  in 
fact  the  whole  person,  of  the  portrayed 
saint  is  so  indicative  of  prayer,  that  we  are 
convinced  at  once  of  the  fact  that  those 
saints  in  heaven  are  not  mere  lookers-on 
but  active  confederates,  so  to  speak,  of 
their  still  warring  brethren  on  earth. 
And  this  same  faith — with  what  emphasis 
is  it  not  expressed  in  the  inscriptions: 
"Sutius,  pray  for  us,  that  we  may  be 
saved."  PETE  PRO  NOS  VT  SALVI 
SIMVS.  "  Augenda  live  in  the  Lord,  and 
infercedfe  for  us."  EROTA.  "Anatolius, 
pray  for  us."  EYXOY.  "  Son,  may  thy 
spirit  rest  happy  in  God  ;  pray  for  thy  sis- 
ter." PETAS.  "Matronata  matrona, 
pray  for  thy  parents ;  she  was  aged  1  year 
and  52  days."  PETE.  "Atticus,  thy 
spirit  (liveth)  in  God;  intercede  for  thy 
parents."  "Jovian,  dwell  in  God  and  be 
our  intercessor.''''  "  Sabatius,  our  love,  ask 
and  pray  for  thy  brethren  and  associates." 
PETE  ET  ROGA.  "  Here  resteth  Ancil- 
ladei;  pray  for  this  thy  only  living  de- 
scendant, for  thou  sojournest  now  in  ever- 
lasting rest  and  bliss."  "To  Felicitas, 
the  very  worthy  step-daughter ;"  (and  then 
by  another  hand)  "  do  pray  for  thy  hus- 
band Celsinian."  "Gentianus,  the  faith- 
ful man,  (resteth)  in  peace ;  he  lived  for 
21  years  .  .  .  in  thy  prayers  remember  w«. 


AVE     MARIA 


277 


for  we  know  that  thou  Tirt  in  Christ." 
But  one  example  more  and  we  shall  close 
our  list :  "  To  the  dearest  and  most  indus- 
trious of  mothers,  Catianilla,  tnay  she  pray 
for  us.''  EYXOITO.  Thus  with  eye  and 
heart  do  those  who  arc  left  behind  pene- 
trate the  dark  shadows  of  death  and  wing 
their  spirit's  flight  to  heaven,  where  they 
search  and  find  their  departed  friends  and 
relations,  and  where  they  forthwith  ap- 
proach Ihera  with  fervent  prayers,  child- 
like petitions  and  pious  recommendations. 
Is  not  that  indicative  of  a  truly  Catholic 
spirit?  Do  not  these  things  show  a  real 
Catholic  faith,  replete  with  charity  and 
confidence  ? 

[to  bb  contutued.] 


<  «  ♦  > » 


Bishop  Chabrat, 


Another  of  our  old  pioneers  has  been 
cut  down  by  the  hand  of  death,  but  not  in 
the  flower  of  his  age  or  in  the  pride  of  his 
manhood,  as  the  sudden  storm-cloud  over- 
casts the  sun  at  midday;  he  sank  to  rest 
surrounded  by  a  halo  of  glory  emanating 
from  his  many  good  works,  as  sinks  the 
glorious  orb  of  day  to  his  couch  on  the 
western  billows,  cradled  in  clouds  of  purple 
and  of  gold. 

But  "  Blessed  are  the  dead  who  die  in  the 
Lord,"  for  they  rest  from  their  labors,  and 
their  works  follow  them.  The  subject  of 
this  notice  breathed  his  last,  calmly  as  an 
infant  falling  to  sleep  on  its  mother's 
bosom,  on  the  21  st  of  November,  A.  D. 
1868,  among  his  own  friends  and  sur- 
rounded by  the  good  people  of  his  native 
village,  to  whom  he  had  ministered  in 
every  possible  manner  for  the  last  twenty 
years. 

Rt.  Rkv.  Gut  Igxatius  Chabrat  was  a 
native  of  France,  and  came  to  this  country 
while  yet  very  young,  though  in  Minor 
Orders,  and  when  the  Church  of  Kentucky 
was  in  its  infancy.  He  landed  in  New  York 
after  a  most  perilous  voyage,  the  latter  part 
of  October,  for  we  find  him  officiating  as 
snbdeacon  to  the  bishop  in  the  ceremonies 
on  the  Feast  of  All    Saints.     Thence   he 


proceeded  to  Baltimore  to  off*er  his  services 
to  the  Metropolitan  of  the  Union,  and  by 
him  was  sent  to  Bishop  Flaget,  then  the 
only  bishop  in  all  the  extent  of  country 
west  of  the  Alleghany  Mountains.  To 
speak  of  the  toils,  the  labors,  the  privations 
of  these  first  missionaries  of  the  Cross, 
seems  to  the  present  generation,  inflated 
with  pride  arising  from  the  present  luxu- 
rious style  of  living,  as  a  romance  of  fairy 
land  to  frighten  naughty  children.  Father 
Chabrat  was  the  first  priest  ordained 
this  side  of  the  mountains,  and  was  sent 
forth  on  a  mission  bounded  north  by  the 
Great  Lakes,  i^outh  by  the  Gulf,  east  by 
the  Alleghany,  and  west  by  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  His  repose  at  night  was  oflen 
taken  beneath  the  starry  canopy  of  heaven, 
with  his  saddle  for  a  pillow  (for  then  there 
were  neither  steamboats  nor  rail-cars), 
not  unfrequently  lulled  to  sleep  by  the 
distant  howl  of  the  wolf,  the  startled  tread 
of  the  deer,  the  fearful  hiss  or  rattle  of  the 
serpent  twining  itself  around  the  branches 
of  the  trees, — small  inducement  for  peace- 
ful slumber.  But  fatigue  and  hunger  were 
safe  antidotes  against  fear,  and  he  would 
lie  down  to  rest  in  the  sure  consciousness 
that  no  evil  could  befall  him,  for  he  re- 
posed on  the  strong  arm  of  Jesus,  and  re- 
clined upon  that  loving  Heart,  to  publish 
whose  mercies  he  had,  like  the  apostles 
of  old,  left  father,  mother,  kindred  and 
country,  crossed  the  briny  deep  and  sta- 
tioned himself  as  sentinel  of  Zion  amid 
the  wilds  of  Kentucky.  As  years  rolled 
by  on  golden  pinions,  each  found  these 
labors  crowned  with  success. 

On  the  15th  of  August,  1819,  Father 
Chabrat  was  requested  by  Bishop  David 
to  preach  his  consecration  sermon.  This 
was  a  masterpiece  of  eloquence,  and  the 
writer  heard  its  depth  and  pathos  ex- 
tolled more  than  twenty  years  after. 

A  short  time  after  this  he  was  appointed 
chaplain  to  a  religious  community,  which 
position  he  retained  until  the  year  1824, 
when,  upon  the  death  of  Rev.  Charles 
Nerincks,  founder  of  the  order  of  the 
Lorettines,  Father  Chabrat  was  nominated 
to  succeed  him  as  ecclesiastical  superior. 


278 


AVE      MAKIA. 


This  Society,  established  to  supply  the 
educational  wants  of  the  country,  had  al- 
ready six  houses  located  in  Kentucky  and 
one  in  Missouri.  At  this  remote  period, 
and  amid  the  privations  of  a  recently  set- 
tled State,  such  an  office  was  no  sinecure, 
but  necessarily  induced  immense  labor  to 
train  a  lately  organized  order;  and  be 
sides  be  attended  several  congregations. 
His  missionary  excursions  sometimes  ex- 
tended as  far  as  Vincennes,  always  on 
horseback,  which  would  occupy  two  or 
three  months.  Bishops  are  now  located, 
and  cathedrals  are  rising  in  every  part  of 
the  country  that  was  formerly  fertilized  by 
the  sweat  and  labor  of  the  early  mission- 
ary pioneers.  If  these  saintly  men  could 
now  revisit  the  scenes  of  their  labors, 
what  a  wonderful,  nay,  almost  marvellous, 
change  would  they  find  inaugurated:  not 
alone  in  the  improvements  introduced,  for 
populous  cities  are  now  occupying  those 
spots  where  then  the  forest  waved  in  pri- 
meval loveliness,  churches  are  reared  to 
the  honor  of  the  eternal  God  where  then 
the  red  man  hunted  the  deer  and  the  buf- 
falo ;  and  convent  chimes  are  ringing  out, 
morning,  noon  and  eve,  the  solemn  peal 
for  the  Angehts,  or  the  more  mournful  toll 
for  the  death  agony  of  our  Lord  at  the 
hour  of  three,  where  then  was  heard  the 
yell  of  the  savage  Indian  or  the  frightful 
cry  of  some  wild  animal  returning  to  its 
lair.  Thus  had  Father  Chabrat  much  to 
engage  his  attention  and  occupy  his  mind; 
yet  was  he  the  kind  friend,  the  generous 
benefactor,  the  wise  counsellor,  the  untir- 
ing confessor,  the  affectionate  father  to  all 
who  had  recourse  to  him  in  their  various 
difficulties  and  distresses.  The  rising  Or- 
der of  Lorettines,  or  Friends  of  Mary  at 
the  Foot  of  the  Cross,  grew  rapidly  under 
his  spirittial  direction,  and  its  branches 
now  extend  to  Kansas,  Colorado,  and  New 
Mexico,  where  are  many  flourishing  insti- 
tutions; besides  many  others  in  Kentucky, 
Illinois  and  Missouri,  all  rendering  im- 
mense service  to  the  cause  of  education 
and  the  improvement  of  the  rising  genera- 
tions. 
Bishop  Flaget  was  now  growing  old, 


and  bis  coadjutor,  Bishop  David,  was 
more  infirm  than  himself,  and  was  more- 
over president  and  director  of  the  sem- 
inary; hence  a])plication  was  made  to 
Rome  for  another  coadjutor,  and  for  this 
high  responsibility  Father  Chabrat  was 
named  by  the  Holy  See.  He  was  conse- 
crated on  the  20th  of  July,  1864,  in 
Saint  Joseph's  cathedral,  Bardstown,  by 
Bishop  Flaget.  Notwithstanding  the  ac- 
cumulation of  episcopal  labors,  he  retained 
for  six  years  the  direction  of  the  Lorettines, 
and  appointed  chaplains  for  the  several 
houses.  In  a  brief  time  after  the  instal- 
ment of  his  coadjutor.  Bishop  Flaget  took 
his  departure  for  France,  leaving  the  whole 
weight  of  the  diocese  upon  bis  successor. 
The  financial  affairs  of  the  bishop  were 
then  greatly  deranged,  but  under  the  wise 
superintendence  of  Bishop  Chabrat,  order 
soon  took  the  place  of  this  chaotic  con- 
fusion. It  was  he  who  petitioned  Rome 
and  had  the  cathedral  and  episcopal  resi- 
dence removed  to  Louisville;  and  though 
he  had  neither  time  nor  health  to  erect 
this  magnificent  structure  to  the  honor 
and  glory  of  God,  yet,  like  David  of  old, 
he  snpplied  many  of  the  materials,  and  left 
an  independence  to  the  bishops  his  suc- 
cessors. This  move  exhibited  his  wise 
foresight,  for  at  that  time  Louisville  had 
but  one  Catholic  church,  whereas  now  it 
can  show  you  at  least  a  dozen,  besides  con- 
ventual chapels. 

It  was  near  this  epoch  that  he  made  ap- 
plication to  the  mother-house  at  Lyons, 
in  France,  to  obtain  a  colony  of  the  Sisters 
of  the  Good  Shepherd  for  the  city  of  Louis- 
ville. The  bishop  prepared  their  estab- 
lishment and  defrayed  their  expenses. 
This  laudable  work  alone  should  be  suffi- 
cient to  immortalize  his  name;  for  where- 
ever  these  ladies  are  located,  their  prayers 
and  works  of  mercy  draw  down  innumer- 
able blessings  upon  the  country.  He  also 
founded  in  the  city  an  academy  of  the 
Loretto  Sisters,  which  now  bears  the 
name  Mount  St.  Benedict,  whence  not 
only  a  knowledge  of  the  polite  sciences  is 
diffused,  but  the  good  odor  of  their  many 
virtues  is  a  sweet  perfume  attracting  all  by 


AVE      MARIA. 


279 


1 


its  aromatic  fragrance  to  4he  path  of  re- 
ligion, caufling  tiieni  to  eradicato  from 
their  hearts  the  thorns  of  vice  and  plant 
in  their  stead  the  lovely  flowers  of  humil- 
ity, purity,  and  charity.  Bishop  Chabrat 
continued  to  administer  the  diocese  even 
after  the  return  of  Bishop  Flaget,  who 
during  his  long  absence  had  visited  the 
Eternal  City  and  had  been  commissioned 
by  his  Holiness,  Pope  Gregory  XVI,  to 
preach  through  several  provinces  of  France ; 
and  God  contirmed  the  truth  of  his  doc- 
trine by  imparting  to  him  the  gift  of  mir- 
acles. But  these  miraculous  cures,  and 
other  supernatural  interventions  of  Divine 
Providence,  the  good  bishop  in  his  humil- 
ity ever  attributed  to  the  pure  and  simple 
faith  of  the  people. 

[concluded  next  week.] 


THE  FLEMMIN6S. 


BT    UBS.    AKNA    H.    DOSSST. 


CHAPTER  Xm. 
Mes.  Flemmixg  at  bat. 

Mrs.  Flemming  was  really  sincere  in 
her  belief  in  the  doctrines  she  professed. 
There  was  just  enough  spirituality  in  them 
to  lift  them  above  the  common,  and  they 
were  just  narrow  enough  to  come  within 
the  scope  of  human  reason;  all  above  that 
being  a  dead  letter,  about  which  she  gave 
herself  no  concern  whatever.  "  Why 
should  it?''  she  thought;  *' for  that  which 
had  served  the  ends  of  salvation  for  her 
pilgrim  forefathers  was  not  only  good 
enough,  but  the  best  for  her."  Besides, 
it  was  a  comfortable  religion,  which  gave 
one  great  liberty  of  action  in  the  sharp 
commerce  of  life,  provided  all  things  were 
done  in  a  decorous  and  sanctimonious  way ; 
and  was  not  too  exacting  in  its  demands 
for  God:  for  while  they  claimed  certain 
portions  of  the  Bible  for  their  rule  of  faith, 
and  certain  congregational  doctrines  for 
their  dogmas,  a  close  observance  of  the 
Sabbath  and  its  ordinances  was  their  ac- 
tual Shibboleth.     This  was  a  most  conve- 


nient arrangement  for  all  human  purposes, 
as  it  left  them  six  days  to  toil  and  prosper 
in,  unfettered  by  any  higher  law  than  the 
law  of  the  land ;  and  all  that  troubled  their 
conscience  growing  out  of  their  daily  life 
was  healed  by  the  unction  of  this  day  of 
expiation. 

Such  as  it  was, — and  it  was  the  best  and 
only  one  she  knew  of, — Mrs.  Flemming 
clung  to  the  meagre  outlines  of  what  she 
called  her  faith ;  it  was  good  enough  for 
her,  it  had  been  good  enough  for  the  an- 
cestral Flemmings  and  the  ancestral  Bab- 
sons,  all  of  whom  had  been  righteous 
men  and  women,  faithful  to  their  calling, 
stern  in  their  opposition  to  everything 
that  even  savored  of  Popery,  and  fore- 
handed with  the  world.  She  and  her  hus- 
band had  been  happy  together  all  these 
years  ;  they  had  prospered,  and  held  a  high 
place  not  only  among  their  own  brethren, 
but  were  looked  up  to  by  all  with  respect 
and  something  nearly  akin  to  affection ; 
indeed,  as  the  distressed  little  woman  had 
said  only  a  short  time  back,  "There  was 
truly  nothing  left  for  them  to  wish  for; 
their  'basket and  stove'  was  full  and  over- 
flowing with  blessings  in  every  shape." 
But  now  this  dreadful  thing  had  happened ; 
her  husband  was  an  apostate  ;  he  had  done 
worse  than  apostatiee — he  had  turned  Pa- 
pist ;  and  she  felt  that  they  were  all  ruined 
and  to  be  brought  to  disgrace  and  poverty. 
Then,  leaving  loom  and  everything  else 
to  take  care  of  themselves,  she  shut  her- 
self up  in  her  room,  and  prayed  and  wept 
as  she  had  never  prayed  and  wept  before, 
that  her  husband  might  be  saved  alive  out 
of  the  fiery  temptation  which  threatened 
him,  body  and  soul,  with  utter  ruin. 

That  night  they  were  all  in  their  usual 
places  in  the  quaint  fire-lighted  old  sit- 
ting-room ;  there  was  au  attempt  at  con- 
versation; and  the  girls,  trying  to  be  cheer- 
ful, talked  now  to  their  father,  now  to 
their  mother,  but  seeing  that  it  was  no 
use,  began  rallying  Reuben  about  a  picture 
of  Miss  Debby  Wyatt,  which  he  had 
painted  on  an  old  biscuit  board,  much  cari- 
catured, but  faithfully  like  her ;  but  Reu- 
ben was  in  one  of  the  dreamiest  of  his 


280 


AVE      MARIA 


dreamy  moods;  he  just  shook  back  fhc 
golden  mane  that  hung  about  his  beautiful 
face,  answered  "Yes,"  and  "No,"  then 
turned  his  eyes  back  to  the  visions  he  was 
beholding  amidst  the  glowing  coals,  the 
Sinai  where,  veiled  by  smoke  and  flame, 
his  fancy  had  many  high  revellings.  At 
last  Mrs.  Flemming  said  : 

»♦  I  should  think  you'd  be  sleepy,  father, 
after  sitting  up  all  night." 

"  I  expect  I  shall  be  pretty  soon,  mother. 
You  know  I  am  a  great  sleepy-head,"  he 
answered  pleasantly. 

"  What  book  was  it  that  interested  you  so 
much  as  to  keep  your  eyes  open  all  night?" 

"  It  is  called  'Milner's  End  of  Contro- 
versy.'" 

"  I  never  heard  of  it  before." 

"  Nor  I,  until  very  lately.  I  should  like, 
mother,  to  read  portions  of  it  to  you  if  you 
will  listen." 

"Yes,  you  can  read  what  you  like. 
There's  no  book  belonging  to  this  house, 
thank  God,  that  can't  be  read  to  a  Chris- 
tian family.  Is  there  anything  about  Lu- 
ther and  Romanism  in  it?" 

"Much,  mother.  But  there  is  some- 
thing I  want  to  read,  which  is  a  sequel  to 
what  we  were  talking  over  last  night." 
Mrs.  Flemming,  still  thinking  it  was  one 
of  the  old  volumes  from  their  own  book- 
shelves, full  of  pure  doctrine,  settled  her- 
self to  listen  while  the  Elder  sprang  his 
mine, — ^hoping  almost  against  hope  that 
she  would  hear  something  that  would  up- 
set completely  the  destructive  spiritual 
novelties  he  had  adopted. 

"  In  the  sixth  chapter  of  John,  which  I 
read  last  night,  we  saw  how  Jesus  Christ 
instructed  His  apostles  by  His  express  and 
repeated  declarations  concerning  the  na- 
ture of  the  sacrament  which  He  promised 
them,  thereby  preparing  their  minds  for 
the  sublime  simplicity  of  His  words  in  in- 
stituting it, — words  which  sealed  His 
meaning  in  the  most  solemn  manner. 
♦  For  whilst  they  were  at  supper,  Jesus 
took  bread  and  blessed  it,  and  broke  it, 
and  gave  it  to  the  disciples  and  said : 
Take  ye  and  eat ;  this  is  My  Body.  And 
taking  the  cup,  He  said :  Drink  ye  all  of 


this;  FOR  THIS  IS  My  Blood  op  the  New 
Testament,  which  shall  be  sued  fok 
many  unto  the  remission  of  sins."'* 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Flemming,  "  we  al- 
ways hear  those  words,  and  solemn  words 
they  are,  when  we  go  to  the  table  of  the 
Lord  ;  but  they  mean  nothing  except  that 
we  are  to  partake  of  the  bread  and  wine  in 
memory  of  Ilis  sufferings  and  death." 

"  He  does  not  say  that,  or  mean  it,"  re- 
plied the  Elder  in  his  calm,  deep  voice. 
"  The  apostle  declares  that  when  He  took 
it  into  His  hands  it  was  bread,  but  when 
He  gave  it  to  them  He  said:  This  is  My 
Body.  He  did  not  say  it  was  bread,  or 
tell  them  to  eat  it  in  commemoration  of 
Him,  or  intimate  that  it  was  a  symbol  of 
His  passion  and  death.  He  said,  as  He 
gave  them  that  which  had  been  bread: 
This  is  My  Body.  Then,  taking  the 
cup,  He  gave  thanks  and  gave  it  to  them, 
saying:  'Drink  ye  all  of  this,  for  this 
IS  My  Blood  of  the  new  testament,  which 
shall  be  shed  for  many  unto  the  remission 
of  sins.'  How  can  we  disbelieve  this  clear 
and  explicit  declaration  of  the  Son  of  God, 
without  accusing  Him  not  only  of  prevari- 
cation but  of  imposture  ?  thereby  bring- 
ing Him  to  naught.  It  was  a  solemn  mo- 
ment;— it  was  a  time  fraught  with  the 
consummation  of  the  ransom  He  was  to 
pay  for  the  salvation  of  the  world,  and  He 
was  giving  into  their  hands  for  all  time 
the  legacy  of  His  body  and  blood,  which 
was  to  be  unto  all  who  partook  worthily 
an  assurance  of  everlasting  life.  Can  we 
— ^believing  in  Him  as  the  Eternal  Truth — 
imagine  for  one  instant  that  on  this  solemn 
occasion,  and  under  the  stupendous  cir- 
cumstances, He  would  have  given  them 
mere  bread,  and  declared  that  it  was  His 
Body ;  and  mere  wine,  declaring  it  to  be 
His  Blood?" 

"  I  couldn't  believe  such  a  doctrine  to 
save  my  life,"  said  Mrs.  Flemming  ex- 
citedly, "  nor  do  I  see  how  any  enlight- 
ened person  can." 

"I  can't  help  believing  it.  It  is  all 
there  in  the  Bible,"  said  Hope.  . 


*  Matthew,  xxvi,  26, 27,  28. 


AVE      MARIA. 


281 


'*  To  disbelieve  it,  it  seelhs  to  me,  would 
be  to  lose  all  faith  in  our  Saviour,"  said 
Kvji.  "  It  seems  unreasonable  to  doubt 
His  own  actual  words,  however  hard  they 
may  bo  to  our  understanding.  And  yet, 
father,"  she  said,  suddenly  turning  to  him, 
"is  it  harder  to  believe  this  than  to  be- 
lieve that  the  Son  of  God  assumed  the 
flesh  and  nature  of  man  for  oar  salvation, 
as  He  did?" 

"No.  Of  the  great  mystery  of  Ilis  In- 
carnation there  was  no  human  witness; 
all  that  we  know  we  receive  from  the  lips 
of  the  Virgin  Mary,  Ilis  Mother  ;  but  here 
in  this  great  sacramental  institution  we 
have  His  own  words,  repeated  without  va- 
riation, adding  to,  or  taking  from,  by  each 
of  the  evangelists,  who  wrote — as  a  note 
here  tells  me — their  gospels  in  different 
places  and  at  different  times.  No  Chris- 
tian doubts  the  account  given  by  Mary  of 
the  Incarnation,  yet  how  many  doubt  the 
words  of  her  Son,  whom  they  profess  to 
believe  is  the  Eternal  Truth  !  Strange  in- 
consistency of  man  !" 

"Did  you  say  there  was  something  about 
Lather  in  that  book?"  asked  Mrs.  Flem- 
ming  fidgeting.  "This  discussion  is  dis- 
agreeable, and  I  should  like — if  you  don't 
object — to  hear  something  that  I  can  un- 
derstand." 

"  Here  is  something,  mother,  about  La- 
ther, but  I  don't  know  how  you'll  relish  it. 
'Martin  Luther,*  in  one  of  his  epistles  on 
the  subject  in  question,  says:  'I  cannot 
tell  you  how  desirous  I  was,  and  how  much 
I  have  labored  in  my  own  mind  to  over- 
throw this  doclrine  of  the  Real  Presence, 
because,'  says  he  (and  let  us  note  his  mo- 
tive), '  I  clearly  saw  how  much  I  should 
thereby  injure  Popery  ;  but  I  found  myself 
caught,  without  any  way  of  escaping  :  for 
the  text  of  the  gospel  is  too  plain  for  this 
purpose.'  Hence  he  continued,  till  his 
death,  to  condemn  those  Protestants  who 
denied  the  corporal  presence,  employing 
for  this  purpose  sometimes  the  shafts  of 
his   coarse   ridicule,   and    sometimes   the 


*  Epiat  ad  Argenten.,  torn.  4,  fol.  502,  ed.  Wit- 
tcmburg. 


thunder  of  his  vehement  declamation  and 
anathemas.'"* 

"  We    are   not    Lutherans,"    said  Mrs. 
Flemming  sharply. 

"No,  not  exactly;  but  you  know  that 
Luther  is  the  rallying  cry  of  the  Protes- 
tant world.  They  regard  him  as  the 
apostle  of  the  Reformation,  the  root  of 
their  tree,  the  founder  of  their  sects.  Lis- 
ten to  this,"  said  the  Elder,  turning  back 
the  pages  of  the  book:  "'No  sooner  had 
Luther  set  xip  the  tribunal  of  his  private 
judgment  on  the  sense  of  the  Scriptures, 
in  opposition  to  the  authority  of  the 
Church,  ancient  and  modern,  than  his  dis- 
ciples, proceeding  on  his  principle,  un- 
dertook to  prove  from  plain  texts  of  the 
Bible  that  his  own  doctrine  was  errone- 
ous, and  that  the  Reformation  itself  wanted 
reforming.  Carlostad,  f  Zuingliu8,J  CEco- 
lompadius,  Muncer,§  and  a  hundred  more 
of  his  followers  wrote  and  preached  against 
him  and  against  each  other,  with  the  ut- 
most virulence,  still  each  of  them  profes- 
sing to  ground  his  doctrine  and  conduct 
on  the  written  word  of  God  alone.  In 
vain  did  Luther  claim  a  superiority  over 
them ;  in  vain  did  he  denounce  hell-fire 
against  them,  saying :  '  I  can  defend  you 
against  the  Pope — but  when  the  devil  shall 
urge  against  you  (the  heads  of  these 
changes)  at  your  death,  these  passages  of 
Scripture,  and  when  Christ,  your  Judge, 
shall  say,  they  ran  and  I  did  not  send 
theniy    how    shall    you   withstand    Him? 


*  Milner's  End  of  Controversy,  p.  232. 

f  Luther's  first  disciple  of  distinction.  He  was 
Archdeacon  of  Wittemburg.  Declared  against  Lu- 
ther, 1521. 

X  Zuinglius  began  the  Reformation  in  Switzerland 
some  time  after  Luther  began  it  in  Germany,  but 
taught  such  doctrine  that  the  latter  called  him  a 
pagan,  and  said  be  despaired  of  his  salvation. 

§  A  disciple  of  Luther,  and  founder  of  the  Ana- 
baptists, who,  in  quality  of  the  jtist,  maintained  that 
the  property  of  the  wicked  belonged  to  them,  quo- 
ting the  second  beatitude :  "  Blessed  are  the  meek 
for  they  sliall  possess  the  land."  Muncer  wrote  to 
several  of  the  German  princes  to  give  up  their 
lands  to  him,  and  at  the  head  of  forty  thousand  of 
his  followers  marched  to  enforce  the  demand. 


282 


AVE      MARIA. 


He  will  plunge  you  headlong  into  hell.'* 
In  vain  did  he  threaten  to  return  back 
to  the  Catholic  religion:  *  If  you  con- 
tinue,' he  says  *in  these  measures  of  your 
common  deliberations,  I  will  recant  what- 
ever I  have  written  or  said,  and  leave  you. 
Mind  what  I  say.'  f  All  in  vain  :  for  *  he 
had  put  the  Bible  into  each  man's  hand  to 
explain  it  for  himself.  This  his  followers 
continued  to  do  in  open  defiance  of  him, 
as  we  see  in  his  curious  challenge  to 
Carlostad  to  write  a  book  against  the  Real 
Presence,  when  one  wishes  the  other  to 
break  his  neck,  and  the  other  retorts: 
''May  I  see  thee  broken  on  the  wheel;'' I 
till  their  mutual  contradictions  and  dis- 
cords become  so  numerous  and  scandalous 
as  to  overwhelm  the  thinking  part  of  them 
with  grief  and  confusion.'"  § 

"  That  seems  to  be  a  curious  sort  of 
book.  Elder  Flemming,  tell  me  where 
you  got  it?"  said  Mrs.  Flemming,  with  in- 
dignation too  big  for  words. 

"  This  book,"  he  answered,  speaking 
slowly  "  which  has  been  'as  a  lamp  to  my 
feet,'  as  a  guide  showing  one  the  way, 
as  one  making  the  crooked  paths  straight, 
was  left  upon  my  desk  by  the  Irish  ped- 
dler, McCue,  the  morning  he  went  away. 
I  threw  it  into  the  desk,  determined  to 
send  it  back  to  him,  little  dreaming  what 
a  treasure  it  was,  or  that  in  it  I  should  find 
comfort  and  enlightenment,  until  last 
night  in  turning  over  my  papers  I  came 
across  it  and  opened  it.  The  very  first 
words  I  read  arrested  my  attention,  and  I 
sat  up  all  night  reading  it ;  and  the  result 
of  this  reading  is  that  from  that  hour  I  am 
a  Catholic, — a  Roman  Catholic." 

Again  Mrs.  Flemming  felt  that  tighten- 
ing around  her  throat;  she  could  only 
gasp :  "  I  knew  it.  I  knew  that  Irish  Pa- 
pist was  at  the  bottom  of  it.  Wolfert 
Flemming,  I  know  that  you  are  a  hard- 
headed  man,  and  that  once  you  have  made 
up  your  mind  to  a  thing  there's  no  power 


•  Oper,  torn.  vU,  foL  274. 

\  Oper.,  torn,  vii,  fol.  276,  ed.  Wittemb. 

t  Variat.,  b.  il,  n.  12. 

§  Milner's  End  of  Controversy,  p.  38. 


on  earth  can  change  you ;  I've  no  hope  to 
do  so,  but  I  tell  you  you've  broken  my 
heart  and  ruined  your  family;  mark  my 
words — you  have." 

"  Neither,  I  hope,  little  wife.  All  I  ask 
of  you  is  to  give  this  matter  a  cool,  intel- 
ligent investigation,  earnestly  praying  the 
while  to  be  enlightened." 

"  Enlightened  !"  repeated  Mrs.  Flem- 
ming with  sarcastic  emphasis. 

"As  it  regards  all  else  concerning 
earthly  prosperity  and  the  like,  I  have 
counted  the  cost  and  made  up  my  mind — 
made  it  up  fully.  It  would  be  small  profit 
to  me  to  gain  the  whole  world  if  I  lose  my 
own  soul,"  said  Wolfert  Flemming  em- 
phatically. 

"  But  why  need  you  lose  your  soul  ?"  she 
asked ;  you  have  always  been  a  good  man, 
serving  God." 

"  According  to  the  light  I  had,  mother, 
I  tried  to  serve  God ;  but  I  have  felt  for 
years  past  that  there  was  something  want- 
ing. I  was  not  satisfied;  and  now  that 
I  have  discovered  a  true,  soul-satisfying 
faith,  one  which  every  faculty  of  my 
mind  responds  to  as  divine  and  necessary 
for  my  salvation,  I  shall — nay,  I  do  em- 
brace it,  counting  all  things  nought  for 
it.  It  is  the  way  for  me,  and  if  I  should 
try  to  climb  up  by  any  other  I  should  be 
like  a  thief  and  a  robber,  and  be  cast 
down." 

"  I,  dear  father,"  said  Eva,  "  should  be 
glad  to  know  something  of  a  religion 
which  seems  so  vital  and  sublime  that 
all  things  are  counted  but  nothing  for 
the  sake  of  it.     May  I  read  that  book  ?" 

"  And  I  too,  father,"  said  Hope.  "All 
that  I  have  heard  sounds  like  truth." 

"  To  save  time,"  replied  the  Elder,  while 
his  eyes  brightened  with  a  tender  light 
as  he  looked  at  the  two  fair  earnest  faces 
of  his  daughters  turned  with  confiding  love 
towards  him,  "  I  will  read  it  aloud  every 
night  to  you.  Then  we  can  talk  it  over 
as  we  read." 

"  That  will  be  much  better,"  said  Hope. 
Although  I  don't  expect  to  become  a 
Catholic,  I  should  like  to  hear  what  Cath- 
olics do  really  believe." 


AVE       MARIA 


2B3 


"  I  sappose,"  said  Mrs.  Flemming,  "  you 
won't  forget  that  you  are  to  see  Deacon 
Sncathen  on  Monday  about  that  busi- 
ness." 

"No  indeed.  I  shall  have  everything 
ready,  mother,  and  it  will  all  be  fixed  by 
Monday  night;  then,  sometime  during 
the  week,  I  shall  have  to  go  up  to  the 
Pines.  Reuben,  did  the  Deacon  say  he'd 
come  here,  or  am  I  to  go  there?'* 

"  He  didn't  say,  father,"  answered  Reu- 
ben.    "  He  only  said  he'<l  see  you." 

"  I  haven't  seen  John  Wilde  either,  for 
a  week;  where  is  he,  Hope?"  asked  Mrs. 
F  lemming. 

"  He  went  to  Boston,  mother,  to  buy 
furniture  and  carpets,  and  won't  be  back 
for  a  week  or  two,"  answered  Hope  blush- 
ing. 

"  I  should  like  to  know  what  A«'// 
think  of  all  this  !"  said  Mrs.  Flemming  to 
herself.  "Popery,  of  all  things  in  the 
world,  to  come  into  this  household!  I 
do  believe  it  will  kill  me." 

Hope  and  Reuben  went  to  meeting  with 
their  mother  on  the  following  Sabbath. 
Eva  remained  at  home  to  read  and  converse 
with  her  father  on  the  all-important  subject 
which  engrossed  his  thoughts,  and  which 
now  also  claimed  her  deepest  attention. 
Mrs.  Flemming  carried  a  heavy  heart  with 
her  into  the  old  Congregational  meeting- 
house that  day.  She  already  felt  some  of 
the  grief  arising  from  a  "divided  house." 
How  could  she  face  the  congregation, 
knowing  all  that  she  did?  knowing  too 
that  the  most  of  them — her  neighbors  and 
friends — would  miss  her  husband  from 
his  accustomed  place  and  begin  to  wonder 
at  his  absence,  and  ask  her  all  sorts  of 
questions  before* she  got  home, — questions 
which  she  could  not  fully  evade  or  set 
aside.  She  almost  wished  that  the  Indian 
woman  had  choked  her  to  death,  to  have 
been  spared  this  unspeakable  trial. 

Father  Ray  missed  the  Elder  as  soon  as 
he  arose  in  the  pulpit  and  cast  his  eyes 
over  the  congregation.  Deacon  Snea- 
then  glanced  round,  then  up  and  down, 
hoping  to  see  his  old  friend  somewhere ; 
Miss    Debby    deliberately    mounted    her 


large  tortoise-shell  spectacles  upon  her 
nose,  and  took  a  long  stare  through  thorn 
at  his  empty  seat,  then  cocked  up  her  chin 
a  degree  higher  than  usual  and  fixed  her 
eyes  with  a  supercilious  expression  on 
Mrs.  Flemming.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that 
Reuben,  who  noticed  her  impertinence, 
was  very  much  tempted  to  make  a  face  at 
her;  but  he  resolutely  turned  away  so 
that  he  could  not  see  her;  while  Hope, 
who  had  also  observed  her  offensive  man- 
ner, fixed  her  calm  gray  eyes  for  a  moment 
steadfastly  on  her,  then  lifted  them  to  the 
old  minister  who  in  tremulous  tones  was 
giving  out  the  hymn. 

Father  Ray  had  a  sermon  prepared  for 
the  day  and  occasion ;  but  when  he  dis- 
covered that  Wolfert  Flemming — whom  he 
loved  as  David  loved  Jonathan — was  again 
absent,  his  heart  misgave  him;  he  felt 
sure  that  the  man  had  at  length  yielded 
to  the  doubts  which  had  so  long  beset 
him,  and  delivered  in  the  place  of  it  a 
startling  discourse  on  the  perils  of  back- 
sliding and  apostasy,  which  he  wound  up 
by  describing  with  quaint  eloquence  the 
wretched  plight  of  those  disciples  who 
after  having  been  the  friends  and  compan- 
ions of  Jesus, — who  had  listened  to  His 
words,  ami  perhaps  daily  touched  His 
hand  and  held  sweet  converse  with  Him,— 
turned  away  at  last  and  left  Him,  because 
all  that  He  said  did  not  exactly  suit  their 
ideas  and  comprehension,  and  walked 
with  Him  no  more.  "  They  thought," 
said  the  old  man,  "  that  He  meant  that  He 
was  going  to  give  them  His  own  body 
and  blood  to  eat ;  when,  if  they  had  been 
patient  and  staid  where  they  were,  if  they 
had  been  more  humble  and  faithful,  they 
would  have  found  out  their  mistake,  and 
understood  that  their  Lord  spoke  in  a  fig- 
urative sense ;  but  no !  in  the  pride  and 
conceit  of  their  hearts  they  turned  their 
backs  upon  Him,  and  it  is  only  reasonable 
to  suppose  that  they  were  given  over 
to  perdition ;  for,  brethren,  we  all  know 
that  the  condition  of  a  backslider,  is  ten 
thousand  times  worse  than  his  first  state 
of  sin."  The  old  man's  utterances  were 
full  of  blended  ire  and  pathos,  and  Mrs. 


284 


AVE     MARIA 


Flemming  felt  every  word  like  a  blow 
as  she  sat  there  listening  to  her  husband^s 
condemnation ;  with  all  a  woman's  keen 
sensitive  perceptions  she  understood  the 
whole  drift  of  his  meaning.  But,  when 
the  time  came,  she  went  up  with  the  rest 
to  receive  the  bread  and  wine  of  what  her 
sect  call  the  Sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Sup- 
per ;  and  when. she  took  the  bread,  and 
heard  the  words  This  is  My  Body,  a 
thrill,  an  awe,  such  as  she  had  never  felt 
before,  passed  swiftly  like  an  electric 
shock  through  her  heart;  and  when  the 
minister  presented  the  cup,  saying,  "  Drink 
ye  all  of  this,  for  this  is  My  Blood  of  the 
New  Testament  which  shall  be  shed  for 
many  unto  the  remission  of  sins,"  her 
impulse  was  to  thrust  it  from  her  and  run 
from  the  place, — for  suppose,  after  all,  her 
husband  was  right?  But  then  she  re- 
membered that  it  was  really  nothing  but 
common  bread  and  wine,  simply  set  apart 
for  this  occasion ;  all  that  was  left  over, 
after  the  rite,  was  being  given  to  the  sex- 
ton's wife  to  mabe  toast  out  of  and  sea- 
son her  puddings.  Then,  trying  to  think 
that  it  symbolized  and  commemorated  the 
death  of  the  Saviour,  she  drank  a  few 
drops,  and  the  cup  was  passed  on. 

After  the  congregation  was  dismissed, 
and  they  were  all  standing  outside  wait- 
ing for  their  chaises  and  wagonettes  to  be 
brought  round,  everybody  came  up  with 
inquiries  about  the  Elder.  "  Was  he 
ill?"— "Did  he  have  to  go  to  the  Pines 
again  ?" — "  "Where  was  he  ?" — '^Why  was 
he  not  at  meeting?" — "  It  was  the  fourth 
Sacrament  day  that  he  was  absent;  what 
could  it  mean?" 

Mrs.  Flemming  stood  her  ground  brave- 
ly, saying  as  little  as  she  could,  consistent 
with  the  truth,  yet  enough  to  give  them 
to  understand  something  of  the  facts  of  the 
case.  "  No ;  Elder  Flemming  was  not  ill," 
she  said  to  one ;  "  he  is  in  excellenthealth." 
"He  is  not  at  the  Pines,"  she  answered 
another;  "he  is  at  home."  "He  did  not 
oome  to  meeting,'*  she  said  to  a  third, 
"because  he  preferred  staying  at  home;" 
but  to  the  last  query,  made  by  Deacon 
Sneathen,  she  replied  stiffly :  "  He  is  not 


here  because  he  has  changed  his  opinion 
on  some  doctrinal  points  which  he  thinks 
erroneous,  and  I  guess  he'll  break  off  al- 
together from  the  old  lines."  Her  voice 
quavered  and  she  had  nearly  broke  down, 
but  the  brave  loving  little  soul  was  deter- 
mined that — no  matter  what  she  might 
feel  at  liberty  to  say  to  her  husband — they 
should  all  find  themselves  mistaken  if  they 
expected  her  to  stand  still  while  they 
pulled  him  to  pieces  in  her  presence. 
So  she  acted  on  the  defensive.  Deacon 
Sneathen  grew  purple  in  the  face,  and 
was  seized  with  vertigo,  which  sent  him 
staggering  against  the  horse-block;  Miss 
Debby  cocked  up  her  chin  in  the  most  ag- 
gressive manner,  and  cleared  her  throat 
in  such  a  tumultuous  way  that  several 
persons  ran  towards  her,  thinking  she 
was  strangling;  meanwhile  Mrs.  Flem- 
ming and  Hope  stepped  into  the  chaise, 
and  Reuben  drove  briskly  off.  Before 
they  were  out  of  sight,  every  man,  woman, 
and  child  there  knew  that  Elder  Flem- 
ming was  a  backslider.  If  Mrs.  Flemming 
had  told  them  that  he  had  turned  Papist, 
I  am  at  a  loss  to  imagine  to  what  heights 
their  excitement  would  have  risen. 
[to  be  continued.] 


<  I  ♦  I  » 


Life  of  Mother  Marj   Seraphine  F . 

[continued.] 

As  to  the  most  Blessed  Virgin,  Sister 
Seraphine  looked  on  her  as  her  dearest 
mother  and  mistress;  from  her  infancy, 
when  she  had  devoted  herself  to  Mary  with 
filial  tenderness,  she  had  the  happy  habit 
of  invoking  her  in  all  circumstances,  and 
never  failed  to  say  a  daily  chaplet.  Every 
morning,  before  the  sisters  assembled  for 
meditation.  Sister  Seraphine,  kneeling  be- 
fore a  little  statue  of  Our  Lady  of  All  Suc- 
cor in  the  ante-choir,  the  object  of  her  ten- 
der veneration,  would  recommend  the  com- 
munity to  the  care  of  the  Mother  of  God 
and  then  offer  her  the  coming  day  with  the 
plan  she  had  laid  out  for  its  disposal,  yet 
acquiescing  in  all  that  might   happen   to 


AVE      MARIA. 


285 


derange  it.  Our  good  Mother  without 
doubt  helped  her  to  endure  with  patience 
the  continual  hindrances  that  prevented 
her  following  her  intended  plan,  especially 
when  she  was  superior.  "  There  is  surely 
a  conspiracy  against  my  time,"  she  would 
sometimes  say  merrily.  Before  this  same 
statue  she  consecrated  her  family  sol- 
emnly to  the  Blessed  Virgin  each  time  she 
was  re-elected  to  the  government  of  the 
house.  She  hailed  with  the  most  heart- 
felt joy  the  proclamation  of  the  dogma  of 
the  Immaculate  Conception.  She  had  said 
previous  to  its  occurrence:  "Oh,  if  I  could 
but  hear  Mary  proclaimed  immaculate  by 
the  voice  of  the  Church,  I  would  have 
nothing  more  left  to  desire  on  earth  ;  I 
would  then  die  in  peace."  These  words 
appeared  prophetic.  The  8th  of  Decem- 
ber, 1854,  Sister  Seraph iue  had  a  presenti- 
ment of  her  last  day  being  very  near  ;  she 
was  laid  on  what  was  soon  to  be  her  death- 
bed when  Paris  made  a  magnificent  fete  to 
honor  Mary's  grandest  privilege  being 
made  an  article  of  faith.  Yet  she  con- 
tinued to  occupy  lierself  with  preparations 
for  their  house  doing  its  part  in  the  gen- 
eral rejoicing,  saying:  "they  ought  to 
do  all  in  their  power  to  celebrate  this 
beautiful  day  with  all  possible  solemnity, 
for,  do  what  they  would,  they  could  never 
make  it  beautiful  enough." 

Next  to  the  Mother  of  her  Lord,  Sister 
Seraphinc  placed  in  her  affections  first  St. 
Joseph,  then  the  Archangel  Michael  and 
her  Guardian  Angel.  To  the  head  of  the 
Holy  Family  she  confided  the  care  of  all 
the  temporal  concerns  of  the  house;  she 
inspired  this  devotion  to  him  in  all  per- 
sons who  had  recourse  to  her  counsels. 
She  invoked  her  holy  patron  in  behalf  of 
her  community,  of  France,  and  of  herself, 
beseeching  his  valiant  defence  particularly 
against  the  temptations  of  the  evil  one. 
But  while  with  tender  piety  and  veritable 
confidence  she  honored  and  invoked  these 
and  all  the  blessed  whom  the  Church 
holds  up  to  us  for  veneration,  her  heart 
like  that  of  a  faithful  lover  was  so  inva- 
riably fixed  on  our  Lord  that  whatever 
prayer  she  might  commence  to  the  saints 


she  found  herself  almost  always  uncon- 
sciously addressing  herself  to  Jesos. 

An  ardent  love  for  her  holy  vocation 
was  another  distinctive  feature  in  the 
character  of  Sister  Seraphine.  The  high 
dignity  of  being  called  to  bear  the  sub- 
lime title  of  spouse  of  Jesus  Christ  ex- 
cited  on  all  occasions  the  outburst  of  her 
liveliest  gratitude.  It  was  a  sensible  at- 
traction that  had  led  her  to  consecrate 
herself  to  God  by  the  ties  of  religious 
profession;  time  diminished  nothing  of 
her  first  fervor,  and  in  her  old  age  she  was 
heard  to  speak  of  the  happiness  of  being 
called  to  religion  with  the  vivacity  of 
a  newly-professed  novice.  "To  be  the 
spouse  of  Jesus  Christ !"  she  would  ex- 
claim ;  "  to  be  the  spouse  of  Jesus  Christ! 
Is  there  any  glory  or  happiness  that  can 
be  compared  to  it !" 

To  souls  th.at  God  willed  to  try  by  dry- 
ness or  temptations.  Sister  Seraphine  sug- 
gested thoughts  of  the  loftiest  faith,  and 
tried  to  instil  into  their  hearts  a  spirit  of 
endurance  and  self- for  getting  love,  which 
would  supply  for  the  want  of  spiritual 
sweetness.  "  Assuredly  this  grace  of  vo- 
cation is  so  grand,  so  incomparable,  that 
it  is  worthy  of  ceaseless  thanksgiving," 
she  said.  This  love  of  vocation  made 
even  what  was  painful  in  a  cloister  life  ap- 
pear to  her  light,  sweet  and  desirable.  In 
the  early  years  of  her  profession,  at  the 
time  the  community  were  forced  to  leave 
the  house  in  the  rue  des  Amandiers,  our 
Lord  stamped  this  impression  deeply  on 
her  soul.  She  walked  for  the  last  time 
in  the  magnificent  garden,  to  which  she 
was  never  to  return, — the  future  of  the 
sisterhood  was  uncertain,  if  not  wholly 
wrecked  ;  the  young  nun  in  the  bitterness 
of  her  sorrow  asked  herself,  if  ever,  in  em- 
bracing a  religious  life,  she  could  have  an- 
ticipated finding  in  it  such  pains  and 
misfortunes?  A  living  ray — a  touch  of 
grace,  of  which  she  never  lost  the  impress — 
answered,  all  of  a  sudden,  to  her  sad 
thoughts :  "  It  is  because  thou  art  a  relig- 
ious thou  suflferest  affliction  ;  it  is  inherent 
to  thy  vocation  ;  but  if  thou  wast  in  the 
world  thou  wouldst  suffer  even  more ;  well 


286 


AVE      MARIA 


is  it  thou  hast  such  supports."  Faith 
flamed  up  in  l)er  ardent  soul,  and  respond- 
ed :  "  Lord,  it  is  then  because  I  am  Thine 
that  I  thus  suffer;  it  is  for  Thee;"  and,  for- 
tified and  consoled,  she  was  filled  with  su- 
perabundant joy  in  the  midst  of  tribula- 
lions.  Ever  after  she  used  this  idea  with 
others  suffering  as  she  had  done ;  she 
loved  to  see  her  daughters  rise  above  the 
trials  and  troubles  which  are  everywhere 
found  in  this  life  of  exile  more  or  less 
thickly  strewn,  by  the  recollection  of  the 
signal  grace  it  was  to  have  been  called  to 
religion.  In  her  view,  it  was  a  healing 
balm  for  all  sorrow. 

[to  be  contixued.] 


Death  of  the  Bishop  of  St.  John's, 
New  Foundland. — "We  regret  to  hear  of 
the  death  of  the  Right  Rev.  John  T.  Mul- 
lock, O.  S.  F.,  Bishop  of  St.  John's,  New 
Foundland.  Bishop  Mullock  for  nearly 
twenty  years  has  governed  the  Diocese  of 
St.  John's,  with  signal  zeal  and  ability. 
Previous  to  his  consecration  as  bishop  he 
was  an  earnest  and  successful  missionary 
priest  in  Ireland  and  in  Scotland.  As 
bishop,  his  influence  over  the  people  of 
New  Foundland  was  almost  unbounded. 
At  his  desire  the  Diocese  of  Harbor  Grace 
was  erected  out  of  what  was  before  part 
of  his  own  diocese. —  Requiescat  in  pace. 
— i^.  y.  Freeman's  Journal 

Religious  Profession  at  St.  Mary's 
Convent,  Webster  Avenue. — On  Wed- 
nesday, April  7th,  at  7-J  o'clock,  A.  M., 
the  Right  Rev.  Bishop  Domenec  presided 
at  the  profession  of  Sisters  Mary  Jerome 
Snee  and  Mary  Callistus  Walker.  Dur- 
ing the  solemn  ceremony  he  addressed 
them  in  the  most  impressive  manner, 
pointing  out  the  great  favors  of  which 
they  were  then  the  recipients,  the  sacred 
obligations  they  were  binding  themselves 
to  for  life,  and  the  spiritual  joys  with 
which  God  would  not  fail  to  sweeten  their 
lives  here,  and  crown  their  lives  hereafter, 
if  they  proved  faithful  to  the  engagements 
which  they  were  then  making. 

The  Right  Rev.  Bishop  was  assisted  on 


the  occasion  by  Rev.  J.  Kearney  and  Rev. 
]\I.  Devlin.  In  the  sanctuary  were  Rev. 
Fathers  Phelan,  of  St.  Peter's,  D.  Kearney, 
of  Sharpsburgh,  and  Wm.  Bigelow,  of 
Steubenville,  Ohio.  May  God  shower  His 
choicest  favors  on  these  newly  professed 
Sisters  of  Mercy. — Pittsburgh  Catholic. 


HILDREN'S 


EPARTMENT. 


[TnuuUtod  from  the  French  for  tb«  Atb  Mabia.] 

MARY  OUR  MODEL. 


Fraternal  Charity. 

After  the  service  of  God,  the  respect  for 
parents,  and  obedience  to  superiors,  there 
are  still  other  duties  no  less  important  that 
charity  imposes  upon  us  towards  our  equals, 
our  brethren,  in  our  family  and  our  social  re- 
lations. In  these,  also,  the  amiable  Vir- 
gin gives  us  most  touching  examples. 

According  to  the  universally  received 
opinion  of  the  Church,  Mary  had  neither 
brothers  nor  sisters,  but  mention  is  made 
in  the  Gospel  of  her  cousins.  Besides 
these,  she  had  other  companions,  with 
whom  her  parents  permitted  her  to  asso- 
ciate; and  later,  she  had  the  companion- 
ship of  the  young  virgins  in  the  temple. 
All  young  girls,  therefore,  may  behold  her 
in  a  state  of  life  that  corresponds  to  theirs. 

Those  words  of  the  Gospel  may  be  ap- 
plied to  her,  that  was  said  of  the  Infant 
Jesus :  She  increased  in  wisdom,  in  age 
and  in  grace  before  God  and  men.*  The 
Lord  was  pleased  to  bestow  upon  her  His 
choicest  blessings.  She  was  truly  the 
angel  of  the  household,  not  only  in  the 
eyes  of  her  parents,  whom  she  filled  with 
joy,  but  of  all  those  with  whom  she  had 
intercourse.  More  than  one  father  and 
mother  were  jealous  of  her  happy  parents  ; 
all  wished  their  daughters  might  call  her 
their  friend,  that  tlK>y  might  learn  from 
her  how  lovely  and  gracious  virtue  may 
be  made.     Never  did  this  serajihic  child 


•    St.  Lake  ii,  52. 


AVE     MARIA. 


287 


dinputo  with  any  one;  she  sacrificed  all 
for  peace ;  she  forgot  herself  to  think  of 
others.  The  Holy  Ghost  had  alreiidy 
placed  in  her  heart  that  ineffable  sweet- 
ness which  was  to  shine  with  such  splen- 
dor and  attain  its  full  perfection  inJesus. 

How  much  she  differed  from  those 
young  girls  who  are  always  quarrelling 
with  their  brothers  and  sisters ;  who  are 
never  sparing  in  injurious  expressions; 
who  are  jealous,  disagreeable,  vindictive, 
never  asking  pardon  when  they  have  given 
offence  to  others,  and  vexing  all  by  their 
misbehavior? 

Mary,  with  the  young  virgins  of  the 
temple,  gave  the  same  example  she  had 
given  in  her  home.  She  was  the  most 
humble,  the  sweetest,  the  most  affable, 
the  most  lovely  and  most  loved  of  all  that 
happy  group.  How  could  it  be  otherwise? 
Who  could  be  angry  with  a  friend  so  full 
of  cordiality,  and  always  disposed  to  ren- 
der service  or  simply  to  give  pleasure? 
She  suffered  without  complaint  the  imper- 
fections of  others;  always  thought  they  had 
too  much  regard  for  her;  and  she  would 
not  have  forgiven  herself  had  she  been  the 
voluntary  cause  of  the  least  pain  to  others. 

She  never  meddled  with  what  did  not 
concern  her,  but  charity  would  not  allow 
her  to  be  indifferent  to  what  would  either 
maintain  or  disturb  peace.  Often  she 
would  come  like  an  angel  of  peace  between 
two  aggrieved  and  irritated  companions, 
to  calm  and  reconcile  them.  When  she 
allowed  herself  to  give  advice  to  indis- 
creet persons,  it  was  with  such  tact  and 
sweetness  that  she  never  gave  the  least 
offence.  Her  greatest  pleasure  was  to 
console  the  afflicted.  As  soon  as  she 
found  any  of  her  companions  in  trouble  of 
mind,  she  sweetly  insiniiated  herself  in 
their  confidence,  in  order  to  teach  them 
how  to  support  trials  and  not  to  be  wor- 
ried by  frivolous  contradictions.  In  a 
word,  she  became  the  confidant  of  her 
young  companions,  and  from  that  time 
commenced  that  character  of  consoler 
which  she  still  retains  in  heaven  for  the 
happiness  of  us  all. 

Let  it  be  observed  that  those  acts   of 


charity  did  not  spring  from  secret  pride» 
which  aspires  to  rule  and  attract  the  at- 
tention and  praises  of  others ;  but  from  a 
sincere  and  generous  love,  drawn  from  the 
heart  of  God.  Her  living  faith  had  per- 
fected the  natural  goodness  of  her  heart, 
and  had  fructified  all  the  germs  of  virtue 
implanted  in  it  by  God. 

We  sometimes  see  in  certain  families, 
these  young  and  loving  souls  who  soon 
show  this  self-sacrificing  spirit,  who  seem 
to  be  placed  in  this  world  to  be  ministers 
of  consolation.  It  is  from  among  these 
that  God  calls  those  religious  destined  to 
bring  consolation  to  the  sick  and  needy. 
If  they  are  called  to  the  married  life,  they 
will  be  the  best  of  wives  and  the  best  of 
mothers.  "  The  Lord  will  give  her  to  him 
whom  He  would  reward."* 


The  Egotist. 

Who  will  reveal  the  secrets  of  the  heart 
of  Matilda?  Her  exterior  seems  friendly, 
but  her  conduct  belies  her  appearance.  Is 
it  not  selfishness,  perchance,  that  makes 
her  a  hypocrite? 

Wl^jBn  but  a  child  she  was  proud,  irri- 
table, despotic  and  vindictive.  Not  one 
of  her  little  companions  loved  her,  because 
of  her  wilful,  rude  and  overbearing  cruelty 
to  those  whom  she  thought  were  not  submis- 
sive enough  to  her.  She  wished  to  be 
thought  much  of;  she  was  so  proud  and 
touchy,  that  a  mere  noth  ing  would  offend  her 
and  make  her  angry.  The  least  preference 
shown  to  others  excited  her  jealousy, 
and  if  the  preference  were  repeated  she 
took  an  aversion  to  the  innocent  object 
and  persecuted  her  with  as  much  hatred  as 
it  she  were  a  personal  enemy.  Matilda 
never  acknowledged  her  faults ;  she  would 
rather  die  than  do  so,  and  had  recourse 
to  calumny  and  other  tricks  that  seemed 
beyond  her  age,  to  overcome  her  rival. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  tell  the  dis- 
tress that  those  bad  dispositions  caused 
her  parents.  This  evil  disposition  became 
more  intolerable,   as    Matilda's    brothers 


•  Eccli.  xxxi,  5. 


288 


AV3a      MARIA 


and  sisters  grew  old  enough  to  be  a  cause 
of  unreasonable  jealousy.  She  tyrannized 
over  them,  and  yet  complained  of  imagin- 
ary offences  she  pretended  they  had  given 
her;  and  when  she  was  reprimanded  for 
such  conduct,  she  accused  her  father  and 
mother  of  loving  her  less  than  them.  To 
put  an  end  to  those  endless  quarrels,  and 
to  her  continual  pouting  that  became  more 
and  more  disagreeable,  this  disagreeable 
girl  was  sent  to  a  convent  school. 

There,  no  change  took  place,  except  for 
the  worse.  At  seventeen,  when  her  mind 
was  more  developed,  she  became  deceitful, 
and  soon  she  became  practised  in  dissimu- 
lation. With  a  polite  exterior,  she  feigned 
an  obliging  manner,  and  always  politely 
saluted  strangers;  and  from  her  outward 
appearance  one  would  suppose  that  she 
was  an  accomplished  lady.  In  reality  she 
was  thoroughly  selfish,  and  cared  for  no 
one  but  herself. 

She  endeavored  to  deceive  by  a  polite 
exterior ;  but  to  no  purpose.  Those  who 
knew  her  even  slightly,  soon  perceived 
that  she  had  neither  goodness  of  heart  nor 
charity,  and  that  she  was  incapable  of  real 
devotedness. 

She  was  even  less  successful  with  her 
teachers  and  companions.  It  was  more 
difficult  to  hide  her  true  dispositions  from 
them.  They  easily  perceived  that  Matilda 
loved  no  one  but  herself,  and  was  inca- 
pable of  feeling  sincere  affection  for  others. 
The  judgment  is  severe,  but  she  merited  it. 

Every  day  we  see  persons  with  such  bad 
dispositions  as  Matilda  had.  Faith  alone 
will  give  strength  to  overcome  them. 
Let  them  pray  to  the  holy  Mother  of  God, 
the  sweet  Virgin  Mary,  and  take  her  for 
their  model  proposed  as  our  model. 


<  «  ♦  I  » 


The  Madonna  and  the  Ilerniit, 


The  bigoted  Italian  correspondent  of 
a  secular  paper,  who  writes  many  false 
and  foolish  things,  sometimes  gives  us  a 
touch  of  truth,  as  in  the  following,  written 
from  Venice  : 

"We  were  rowing,  as  one  of  the  number 


tells  us,  one  beautiful  spring  morning 
towards  the  ruins  of  Torcello,  when,  on 
passing  a  small  island  with  trees  in  full 
blossom,  we  saw  a  modest  cottage. 

"  Near  the  spot  where  our  gondola 
touched,  we  perceived  a  Madonna  sculp- 
tured in  the  wall,  with  a  lamp  burning 
before  her,  flowers  freshly  gathered,  and  a 
purse  suspended  to  a  long  pole  to  collect 
alms  of  the  gondoliers  and  fishermen.  On 
landing  we  found  an  old  man  seated  at  the 
cottage  door ;  the  gentleness  of  his  voice, 
and  the  serenity  of  his  noble  countenance 
inspired  an  interest  in  his  history.  He 
told  us  that  the  island  was  formerly  occu- 
pied by  Franciscan  monks,  who  were 
driven  away  by  the  French  invasioH,  and 
that  the  soldiers  vainly  attempted  to  drag 
down  the  holy  image,  firmly  seated  in  its 
tabernacle  of  stone.  Formore  than  twenty 
years  he  had  lived  on  this  insulated  spot, 
and  on  our  inquiring  if  his  solitary  exist- 
ence did  not  sometimes  induce  melancholy, 
he  pointed,  with  an  expressive  smile,  to 
the  Madonna,  and  replied,  that  having  al- 
ways the  Mother  of  God  so  near  him  he 
had  never  felt  his  solitude;  that  the  prox- 
imity of  such  a  protectress  was  sufficient 
to  make  him  happy,  and  that  his  sweetest 
occupation  consisted  in  supplying  the 
lamp  and  renewing  the  flowers  before  her 
image." 


Abovb  all,  St.  Francis  of  Sales  coun- 
selled reading  the  Lives  of  the  Saints, 
which  he  was  wont  to  call  "  the  Gospel  in 
practice."  Such  readings,  performed  with 
humility  and  a  desire  to  imitate,  invariably 
impart  sentiments  of  devotion.  Like  in- 
dustrious bees,  we  shall  draw  from  so 
many  good  examples  the  honeycomb  of  a 
virtuous  life.  The  working  of  the  spirit 
is  varied  indeed ;  and  for  this  very  reason 
we  will  always  find  in  the  Lives  of  the 
Saints  something  needed  to  our  individual 
spiritual  wants.  And  should  we  only  be 
impressed  with  feelings  of  admiration  for 
the  heroic  deeds  of  the  Saints,  would  not 
even  that  be  a  very  cvcellent  way  of  giving 
praise  to  God? 


AVE   MARIA. 

§1  (Eatbalic  f  0«tnat,  AmUA  U  the  ^iawat  of  the  ^U$$t&  ^xx%xtu 


Vol.  V. 


NOTRE  DAME,  INDIANA,   MAY  8,  1869. 


No.  19. 


BLOSSOMS  OF  FAITH  AND  LO?E; 

OR, 

Boaqoets  for  every  Season. 


VI.— THE  MONTH  OF  MARY. 


Lo!  the  winter  is' passed,  the  rain  is  over  and 
gone;  the  flowers  appear  on  the  earth,  the  time  of 
the  singing  birds  is  come,  and  the  voice  of  the 
turtle  is  heard  in  our  land. — Song  of  Solomon. 

Yes,  the  time  of  birds  and  flowers  is 
come  again,  and  the  voice  of  the  Churcli 
is  heard  in  every  land,  calling  her  chil- 
dren to  Mary's  shrine.  Welcome  the 
beautiful  May  !  Month  of  singing  birds 
and  opening  flowers,  month  of  hope  and 
gladness,  month  devoted,  even  in  the 
darkest,  bloodiest  era  of  Paganism,  to 
innocence  and  joy,  to  the  one  pure  and 
gentle  goddess  of  mythology.  O  ye  who 
see  in  "  Mariolatry  only  a  continuation 
of  the  worship  of  Maia,"  tell  us,  is  there 
no  significance  in  this?  Does  not  the 
strange  coincidence  whisper  to  your  soul 
worthier  thoughts  of  her  "  whose  name" — 
in  the  language  of  your  own  poet — "  all 
but  adoring  love  may  claim  1"  "  Whom 
therefore  ye  ignorantly  worship,  Him  de- 
clare I  unto  you,"  exclaimed  St.  Paul, 
in  a  transport  of  noble  pride,  to  the  wor- 
shippers at  the  altar  of  "The  unknown 
God."  Can  any  Christian  heart  fail  to 
glow  with  kindred  emotion,  on  finding 
the  sweet  Virgin  Mother  prefigured  in 
the  Maia  ignorantly  worshipped  by  those 
who  in  their  deepest  degradation  still 
retained  some  glimmering  ray  of  light 
from  heaven,  some  vague  anticipation  of 
a  brighter  day  which  woxUd  bring  earth 
nearer  to  heaven,  through  "a  virgin's  son." 


From  the  revelations  of  St.  Gertrude — 
exhaustless  treasury  of  devotions  to  Jesus 
and  Mary — let  us  gather  some  sweet  blos- 
soms, choice  May  flowers. 

I. — Various  Devotions  of  St.  Gebtbudb 

TO  TlIK  MOTHEB  OF  GOD. 

Gertrude  having  one  day  asked  her 
Lord,  according  to  her  custom,  how  He 
wished  her  to  occupy  herself  during  the 
time  of  prayer,  received  this  reply :  "  Honor 
My  Mother,  who  is  seated  at  My  side, 
and  employ  yourself  in  praising  her." 
She  then  began  to  salute  the  Queen  of 
heaven,  as  "  Paradise  of  delights,"  etc. ; 
extolling  her  because  she  was  the  abode 
fullof  delights  chosen  by  God — who  knows 
all  His  creatures — for  His  dwelling;  and 
she  besought  her  to  adorn  her  heart  with 
so  many  virtues  that  God  might  take 
pleasure  in  dwelling  therein.  The  Blessed 
Virgin  then  planted  in  Gertrude's  heart 
the  different  flowers  of  virtue,  as  the  rose 
of  charity,  the  lily  of  chastity,  and  many 
others;  thus  showing  how  promptly  she 
assists  those  who  invoke  her  aid. 

Then  the  Saint  addressed  her  thus: 
"Rejoice,  model  of  discipline;"  praising 
her  for  having  ordered  her  desires,  judg- 
ment and  affVjction  with  more  care  than 
any  one  else  could  do ;  and  for  having 
served  the  Lord  with  such  respect  and 
reverence,  that  she  had  never  given  Him 
the  least  occasion  of  pain  in  her  thoughts, 
words  or  actions.  Having  besought  her 
to  obtain  for  her  also  the  same  grace,  it 
appeared  to  St.  Gertrude  that  the  Mother 
of  God  sent  her  all  her  affections  under 
the  form  of  young  virgins,  recommending 
each  in  particular  to  unite  her  disposi- 
tions to  those  of  her  client,  and  to  supply 


290 


AVE      MARIA. 


for  any  defects  into  which  she  might  fall. 
By  this  also  she  understood  the  prompti- 
tude with  which  the  Blessed  Virgin  as- 
sists those  who  invoke  her.  She  then 
besought  our  Lord  to  supply  for  hor 
omissions  in  devotion  to  His  Blessed 
Mother,  which  He  was  pleased  to  do. 

On  the  next  day,  as  Gertrude  was  en- 
gaged in  prayer,  the  Holy  Virgin  ap- 
peared to  her,  in  the  presence  of  the  ever 
adorable  Trinity,  under  the  form  of  a 
white  lily,  with  three  leaves ;  one  stand- 
ing erect,  and  the  other  two  bent  down. 
By  this  she  understood  that  it  was  not 
without  reason  that  the  Blessed  Virgin 
was  called  the  white  lily  of  the  Trinity, 
since  she  contained  in  herself,  with  more 
plenitude  and  perfection  than  any  other 
creature,  the  virtues  of  the  Most  Holy 
Trinity,  which  she  had  never  sullied  by 
the  slightest  stain  of  sin.  The  uj^right 
leaf  of  the  lily  represented  the  omnipo- 
tence of  God  the  Father,  and  the  two 
leaves  which  bent  down,  the  wisdom  and 
love  of  the  Son  and  the  Holy  Spirit. 
Then  our  Lady  made  known  to  the  Saint, 
that  if  any  one  salutes  her  devoutly  as  the 
white  lily  of  the  Trinity  and  the  vermil- 
ion rose  of  heaven,  she  will  show  how  she 
prevails  by  the  omnipotence  of  the  Father, 
how  skillful  she  is  in  procuring  the  sal- 
vation of  men  by  the  wisdom  of  the  Son, 
and  with  what  exceeding  love  her  heart 
is  filled  by  the  charity  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 
The  Blessed  Virgin  added  these  words: 
"  I  will  appear  at  the  hoiir  of  death 
to  those  Avho  salute  me  thus,  in  such 
glory,  that  they  will  anticipate  the  very 
joys  of  heaven."  From  this  time  Ger- 
trude frequently  saluted  the  Holy  Virgin 
or  her  images  with  these  words : 

"Hail,  white  lily  of  the  ever-peaceful 
and  glorious  Trinity  !  hail,  effulgent  rose, 
the  delight  of  heaven,  of  whom  the  King 
of  heaven  was  born,  and  by  whose  milk 
He  was  nourished  I  feed  thou  our  souls 
by  the  efiiision  of  thy  divine  influences." 

Another  of  the  Saint's  favorite  saluta- 
tions was  the  following: 

"  I  salute  thee,  most  Blessed  Mother, 
august  sanctuary  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  through 


the  sweetest  Heart  of  Jesus  Christ,  thy 
beloved  Son  and  the  Son  of  the  Eternal 
Father,  beseeching  thee  to  assist  us  in  all 
our  necessities,  both  now  and  in  the  hour 
of  our  death.     Amen." 


II. — Thk  Best  Offkeijigs  to  Mary. 

It  is  related  in  the  life  of  St.  Margaret 
of  Cortona,  that  our  Lord  often  associated 
Himself  with  her  in  honoring  His  beloved 
Mother  by  reciting  the  Angelical  Saluta- 
iton.  This  brings  to  mind  the  beautiful 
paraphrase  of  that  sweet  prayer,  which  an 
elegant  writer  represents  the  divine  Child 
of  Nazareth  addressing  to  His  Mother: 

"  Sacred  lips  of  the  Son  of  God,  that 
gave  us  that  sublime  summary  of  prayer 
which  should  precede  our  salutation  to 
Mary,  you  loved  to  pronounce  that  mys- 
terious Ave.  It  was  conceived  in  your 
own  divine  Heart,  O  Jesus,  you  entrusted 
it  to  your  angel  for  Mary  and  for  us  ;  but 
surely  it  must  have  been  pleasing  to  you 
to  repeat  it  so  often,  and  this  it  is  that 
renders  it  so  ravishing,  so  delectable  to 
a  pious  heart. 

"  '  Hail,  Mary,  thou  whom  Fhave  chosen 
from  all  eternity  to  be  my  Mother  ! 

"  '  Hail,  Aurora  of  my  existence,  cloud 
which  gave  me  to  the  earth,  branch  from 
which  I  have  budded  forth,  blessed  above 
all  women  1 

" '  Hail,  my  tabernacle,  my  sanctuary,  my 
diadem  of  honor,  my  crown  of  glory ! 

"  '  Hail,  spotless  dove,  oh  !  most  beauti- 
ful of  the  daughters  of  Juda,  my  delight, 
my  beloved,  my  joy  ! 

"  '  Emerald  of  the  earth  !  thou  wilt  one 
day  be  the  ornament  of  the  heavenly 
court,  and  thou  wilt  reign  among  my  an- 
gels ;  thou  wilt  enhance  the  splendor  of 
my  Church,  thou  wilt  be  the  support  and 
bulwark  of  Jerusalem,  the  honor  and  sal- 
vation of  my  people.  O  Mary,  thou  wilt 
one  day  be  seated  at  ray  right  hand ;  I 
will  confide  to  thee  all  the  treasures  of 
My  love !" '  ♦  *  , 


*  Lebon's  Treatise  on  the  Ave  Maria. 


AVE      MA  R  I  A  . 


291 


We  cannot  hope  to  enjoy  St.  Marga- 
ret's privilege,  but  we  can,  if  toe  will,  often 
associate  ourselves  with  Jesus  in  offering 
such  salutations  to  this  favored  Mother, 
reminding  her  of  the  filial  fervor  with 
which  the  divine  Heart  tendered  its  hom- 
age, and  the  maternal  delight  with  which 
her  fond  grateful  heart  treasured  every 
accent  of  those  sacred  lips. 

The  following  litany,  with  the  accom- 
panying prayer,  is  culled  from  the  writings 
of  various  saints: 

III. — LiTAKT  OF  OUE  LaDY. 


Lord,  have  mercy  on  us,  etc. 

Our  Lady,  spotless  dove  of  the  Lord,  ^ 

Our  Lady,  true  temple  of  the  Most 

High, 
Our  Lady,    blessed  by  all   genera- 
tions. 
Our  Lady,  honored  by  angels. 
Our  Lady,  awaited  by  patriarchs. 
Our  Lady,  foretold  by  prophets, 
Our  Lady,  paradise  of  delights. 
Our  Lady,  mediatrix  between  God 

and  man, 
Our  Lady,  glory  of  the  universe, 
Our  Lady,  fairest  ornament  of  the 

heavenly  Jerusalem, 
Our  Lady,  depository  of  celestial 

treasures. 
Our  Lady,  bulwark  of  Christendom, 
Our  Lady,  seal  and  mark  of  true 

Catholics, 
Our  Lady,  ladder  of  heaven, 
Our  Lady,  busy  one  of  Paradise, 
Our  Lady,  the  Eastern  horizon  from 

which  rose  the  Sun  of  Justice, 
Our  Lady,  matchless  flower. 
Our  Lady,  vine  always  flourishing, 
Our  Lady,  model  of  discipline, 
Our  Lady,  miracle  of  virtue, 
Our  Lady,  crown  of  the  Church, 
Our  Lady,  j;ff"ulgent  rose  of  heaven. 
Our  Lady,  white  lily  of  the  Holy 

Trinity, 
Lamb  of  God,  etc. 


V.  Mighty  art  thou,  O  Lady,  and  very 
praiseworthy. 

R.  In  the  celestial  Jerusalem,  in  the 
congregation  of  the  saints. 

O  Mary,  all  eyes  are  and  ever  shall  be 
fixed  on  thee.  All  our  confidence  is  in 
thee,    gracious    Lady,    Mother    of    God. 


From  our  earliest  infancy  we  have  con- 
secrated ourselves  to  thee  as  our  Sovereign. 
Protect  us  under  the  wings  of  thy  charity 
and  power.  Receive  the  little  that  we 
have  to  offer  to  God;  present  it  to  Him 
thyself,  that  it  be  not  rejected.  Deliver 
us  from  all  dangers,  and  one  day  obtain 
for  us  the  eternal  reward  merited  for  us 
by  thy  Son,  who,  with  the  Father  and  the 
Holy  Ghost,  lives  and  reigns,  one  God, 
blessed  above  all,  forever.     Amen. 


THE  ROHAN  CATACOIYIBS, 
And  their  Connection  witli  Catliolic  Dog^ma. 

(continued. ) 

pbom  thk  obrican  of  bey.  u.  woltbe,  bt  bey 
j.  a.  bebobath. 

"  Sed  tu  qui  legis,  era  pro  me  et  (h)abeas  Doml- 
num  protectorem." — Catacombg  of  Fontiantu. 

vi. 
But  these  pious  invocations,  these  pray- 
ers to  the  saints,  are  perhaps  only  private 
and  individual  aspirations,  the  occurrence 
of  which  neither  supposes  nor  makes  it 
necessary  that  a  public  and  liturgical  ven- 
eration of  the  saints  should  exist  to  support 
them?  Not  by  any  means.  For,  notwith- 
standing the  fact  that  we  are  endeavoring 
principally  to  establish  the  Catholic  prin- 
ciple concerning  the  veneration  of  the 
saints,  since,  this  being  once  established, 
a  proper  liturgical  regulation  of  the  prac- 
tice will  follow  of  itself  as  a  necessary 
consequence,  yet  there  are  not  wanting 
monumental  inscriptions  which  prove  also 
the  latter  in  a  most  conclusive  manner.  The 
inscriptions  found  in  the  catacombs  tell 
us  of  a  twofold  order  of  religious  venera- 
tion, each  of  which,  as  at  the  present  day, 
is  liturgically  characterized  by  the  words: 
"  In  the  name"— IN  NOMINE.  Thus  we 
find  (1):  prayers  "»;i  the  name  of  God,^^ 
''of  Christ,''  or  "o/  Christ  the  Lord.'' 
For  instance :  "  Zosimus,  live  thou  in  the 
name  of  Christ;"  "To  Selia  Victorina 
who  resteth  in  peacetn  the  nameof  ChriM." 
In  all  such  cases  the  invocation  is  directed 


292 


AVE      MARIA. 


immediately  to  God,  the  only  adorable  and 
omnipotent  giver  of  all  graces.  But  in 
addition  to  this,  the  inscriptions  referred 
to  contain  also  (2) :  invocations  "  in  the 
name  of  a  sainty''^  a,ud  in  such  cases  the 
petition  is  but  indirectly  made  to  God, 
while  it  is  made  directly  to  the  interceding 
power  of  the  saint  mentioned.  Thus  we 
read  on  one  of  the  tombstones :  "  Rufa 
shall  live  in  the  peace  of  Christ  in  the  name 
of  Peter j^^  i.  c,  through  the  mediation  of 
St.  Peter's  intercession.  Again,  on  a  glass 
tumbler  discovered  in  the  catacombs  are 
found  written  in  golden  letters  the  follow- 
ing words:  "Vito,  live  thou  in  the  nam,e 
of  Laurentius ;"  while  on  another  we  read 
in  the  same  sense :  "  Aelianus,  live  thou 
in  Christ  and  in  Laurentitts^'''*  i.  e.,  in  the 
grace  of  Christ  through  the  mediation  and 
intercession  of  Laurence.  A  strong  proof 
for  the  public  veneration  of  the  saints  in 
the  primitive  Church  is  furnished  by  the 
universally  acknowledged  fact  that  the 
most  prominent,  and  as  it  were  canonized, 
martyrs  of  the  Church  were  on  all  sides 
awarded  ecclesiastical  titles  oj" honor.  They 
are  called  "  Lord," i.  e., "  Master,"  "  strong 
intercessor  at  the  throne  of  God,"  DO- 
MINVS,  DOMNVS,  or  have  merely  a  D, 
indicative  of  these  titles,  prefixed  to  their 
names.  So  early  however  as  the  third 
century  we  meet  with  the  title  of  "saew^," 
(dominus)  SANCTVS.  Thus  we  find  re- 
peatedly :  "  Z/ord  Peter,  Paul,  Stephen, 
Sixtus,"  "  Zadi/  Basilla,"  etc.  We  find 
moreover :  "  To  the  holy  martyr  Maximus ;" 
"  To  the  omnipotent  Father  and  His  Christ, 
and  to  the  holy  martyrs  Tauriuus  and  Her- 
culanus  are  daily  offered  up  prayers  of 
thanksgiving  by  Nevius,  Diaristus,  and 
Constantine."  We  shall  not  encumber 
these  pages  with  any  additional  proofs  of 
this  description,  but  will  endeavor  now 
to  throw  light  upon  our  subject  from  an- 
other point  of  view ;  namely,  that  of  art  as 
exhibited  in  the  paintings,  etc.,  of  the  cat- 
acombs. 


VII. 


We  begin  this  paragraph  with  a  question 
which  has  most  probably  before  now  oc- 
curred to  our  readers.     If  among  the  early 


Christians  the  veneration  of  the  saints 
was  not  only  practiced,  but  had  received 
also  even  at  that  early  day  a  regular  litur- 
gical organization,  how  was  it  with  the 
veneration  of  Mary,  the  queen  of  all  the 
saints  ?  Do  we  find  her  even  then  occupy- 
ing her  exalted  position  among  the  celes- 
tial hierarchy,  and  receiving  the  honors 
that  are  due  her,  from  the  early  Church  ? 
Or  is  there  any  truth  in  the  assertion  that 
the  particular  veneration  and  artistic  rep- 
resentation of  Mary  as  the  Mother  of  God 
dates  back  only  to  the  Council  of  JSphesus? 
So  far  as  the  monumental  inscriptions  are 
concerned,  they  intimate  a  veneration  for 
Mary  only  by  showing  us  that  it  was  cus- 
tomary to  give  her  name  in  many  cases  to 
those  who  were  received  into  the  Church  by 
baptism.  In  all  other  respects  they  ob- 
served the  strictest  silence  regarding  any 
point  that  could  throw  light  upon  the  ven- 
eration of  the  Blessed  Virgin.  The  rea- 
son of  this  appears  to  us  without  much 
difficulty.  Themystery  of  the  incarnation, 
with  which  the  Mother  of  God  was  so  in- 
timately connected,  drew  her  at  once  and 
most  decisively  within  the  circle  of  the 
so-called  arcana,  or  those  doctrines  of  the 
Church  a  perfect  knowledge  of  which  was 
withheld  not  only  from  the  outside  heathen 
world,  but  also  even  from  the  catechumens, 
who  as  yet  had  not  been  baptized.  We 
must  accordingly  not  look  for  Mary  and 
her  worship  among  the  inscriptions  prop- 
er, but  rather  among  the  paintings,  which 
were  nothing  more  than  so  many  clear  and 
perfectly  intelligible  hieroglyphics  to  all 
those  who  had  been  fully  initiated  into 
the  teachings  of  the  Church  at  their  bap- 
tism. These  paintings,  as  we  shall  see, 
will  prove  beyond  the  shadow  of  a  doubt 
that  the  Church  at  present  is  a  faithful 
copy,  or,  to  speak  more  correctly,  is  identi- 
cal in  this  as  in  all  other  points,  with  the 
Church  of  the  apostolic  ages.  Since  the 
catacombs  have  been  reopened,  the  repre- 
sentations of  the  Madonna  that  were  found 
there,  and  all  of  which  date  back  to  the 
very  first  ages  of  the  Church,  hav,e  grown 
in  numbers,  so  as  to  form  quite  a  gallery 
at  the  present  day,  and  nothing  can  be 


AVE      MARIA. 


293 


plainer  than  the  testimony  which  each  of 
these  furnishes  to  prove  the  extraordinary 
veneration  of  Mary,  accorded  to  her  by  the 
early  Church  in  consequence  of  her  won- 
derful greatness  and  dignity,  by  which  she 
excelled  all  the  other  saints  of  God.  Gen- 
erally, these  representations  may  be  classed 
as  belonging  either  to  one  or  the  other  of 
the  following  types.  Mary  is  represented 
either  as  sitting  upon  a  throne  or  seat  of 
state,  with  the  infant  Saviour  in  her  arms, 
or  else  in  a  standing  position^  with  her 
hands  uplifted  as  if  in  prayer.  In  the  for- 
mer case  it  is  evident  that  she  is  placed 
before  us  pre-eminently  in  her  glorious  ca- 
pacity as  the  Mother  of  God,  while  in  the 
latter  we  are  strikingly  reminded  that  she 
is  also  the  most  gracious  mother  of  men. 
Let  us  go  for  a  moment  into  the  catacombs 
of  Priscilla.  These  catacombs  might  not 
inappropriately  be  designated  as  those  of 
Mary^  since  they  contain  so  many  paint- 
ings, etc.,  that  have  reference  to  the  vener- 
ation of  the  Blessed  Virgin.  The  oldest 
crypts  of  this  sacred  place  were  excavated 
and  arranged  by  St.  Priscilla,  the  mother 
of  the  senator  Pudens,  and  grandmother 
of  the  holy  virgins  Pudentiana  and  Prax- 
edes,  and  that,  too,  ere  yet  the  apostolic 
age  had  drawn  to  a  close.  Let  us  proceed 
on  our  tour  of  exploration  from  the  cen- 
tral crypt,  or,  as  it  is  more  commonly 
known,  the  "  Greek  Chapel.''''  Here,  di- 
rectly opposite  the  entrance,  in  the  most 
conspicuous  and  at  the  same  time  the  most 
honorable  part  of  the  chapel,  we  meet  with 
a  picture  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  and  Child 
attended  by  three  kings  who  are  offering 
their  gifts  to  her.  In  a  neighboring  cham- 
ber, and,  like  the  first,  occupying  the  cen- 
tre of  the  ceiling,  we  are  introduced  to 
another  scene  in  the  life  of  Mary.  It  is 
the  oldest  extant  painting  of  the  "  An- 
nunciation.'''* This  picture  is  in  many  re- 
spects one  of  unusual  inportance.  The 
artist  has  represented  the  angel  without 
the  usual  accessories  of  wings,  thus  making 
him  appear  as  a  stately  youth,  who  address- 
es the  Virgin,  sitting  before  him  on  a  kind  of 
throne  as  a  mark  of  her  superior  greatness. 
Again,  in  a  third  cubiculum  there  is  seen, 


in  the  midst  of  other  symbolic  scenes,  a 
representation  of  Mary  with  the  Child  Je- 
sus alone.  Not  far  from  this  chamber  is  a 
sepulchral  niche  that  involuntarily  attracts 
our  attention  by  the  number  of  paintings 
with  which  it  is  decorated.  The  ceiling  to 
the  right  is  ornamented  with  a  picture  of 
Mary  with  the  Child  Jesu^.  The  Blessed 
Virgin,  draped  in  a  full  dress  and  flowing 
mantle,  has  thrown  over  her  head  a  thin 
veil,  after  the  fashion  of  the  espoused,  the 
newly-married,  or  those  virgins  who  had 
dedicated  themselves  to  the  service  of  God. 
Over  the  head  of  the  virgin  is  seen  the  star 
of  Bethlehem,  which,  by  the  way,  is  gener- 
ally found  in  pictures  of  this  kind.  Be- 
fore her  there  stands  the  imposing  figure 
of  a  young  man.  It  is  Isaias,  the  prophet 
of  Mary.  Following  the  custom  of  the 
ancients,  he  wears  a  mantle  that  is  thrown 
back  across  his  shoulder;  in  his  left  hand 
is  seen  a  roll  of  parchment,  while  he  points 
with  his  right  to  the  Virgin  and  the  star, 
as  if  he  were  in  the  act  of  foretelling  the 
divine  maternity  of  the  chosen  Virgin  and 
the  **great  lighV  that  had  arisen  over 
the  tribe  of  Israel.*  The  beauty  of  the 
composition,  the  majesty  and  grace  that 
is  thrown  around  each  of  the  figures,  the 
perfect  ease  and  yet  decided  character 
shown  by  the  artist  in  the  management  of 
his  brush,  stamp  the  painting  at  once  as 
a  classical  production,  and  would  leave  us 
no  doubt  that  it  had  been  delineated  some- 
where between  A.  D.  50  and  150,  thus  ren- 
dering it  not  improbable  that  it  may  have 
been  painted  even  under  the  very  eyes  and 
supervision  of  the  apostles  themselves. 
Indeed  such  a  supposition  gains  all  the  more 
likelihood  when  we  take  into  consideration 
the  topography  of  the  cemetery  and  the  apos- 
tolic simplicity  and  form  of  the  inscriptions. 
Still,  we  have  thus  far  only  described 
a  portion  of  the  frescoes  that  decorate 
the  remarkable  chamber  in  question.  At 
one  side  of  the  group  described  above, 
there  is  seen  the  "  Good  JShepherdy^* 
carrying  the  estrayed  lamb  back  to  His 
fold,   while  behind   Him   there   follow  a 


•  Vid.  Is.  ix,  2;  Ix,  2-19.    Luke  i,  78,  et  $eq. 


294: 


AVE     MARIA 


sheep  and  a  ram.  These  pictures,  how- 
ever, occupy  only  one  half  of  the  ceiling. 
The  paintings  originally  decorating  the 
other  half  have  been  destroyed,  but  we  are 
justified  in  assuming  from  analogous  rep- 
resentations that  the  obliterated  portion 
of  the  artist's  work  must  have  represented 
Mary  in  an  attitude  of  prayer,  whom  the 
Good  Shepherd,  as  it  were,  is  approaching 
with  the  rescued  lamb  on  His  shoulders. 
In  this  deeply-significant  juxtaposition,  du- 
plicates of  which  we  find  in  various  por- 
tions of  the  catacombs,  Mary  appears 
simultaneously  as  the  Mother  of  God,  the 
second  Eve  or  spiritual  mother  of  man- 
kind, the  protectress  of  the  Church,  Sind  the 
m.odel  of  the  Christian  soul.  Finally,  in  a 
third  group  which  extends  along  both  sides 
of  the  sepulchral  niche,  we  behold  on  the 
right,  once  again,  the  prophet  Isaias,  with 
his  hand  upraised  and  pointing  significant- 
ly to  three  figures  that  are  seen  on  the  left. 
These  figures  evidently  represent  the  Holy 
Family  in  the  temple  of  Jerusalem,  a  con- 
clusion the  latter  part  of  which  we  arrive 
at  principally  on  account  of  the  apparent 
age  of  the  Child  Jesus.  Both  Mary  and 
Joseph,  their  hearts  being  full  of  wonder 
and  astonishment  at  the  mysterious  event 
unfolding  itself  before  their  eyes,  have 
raised  their  hands  as  if  in  extacy;  while 
another  painting  in  the  catacombs  of  Calis- 
tus,  which  also  represents  the  finding  in 
the  temple,  attributes  this  mystical  ex- 
pression of  extatic  wonder  only  to  the  Di- 
vine Child. 

[to  bb  continued.] 


Bishop  Chabrat. 


[CONCLITDED.] 

The  strongest  constitution  and  the  most 
robust  health  must  finally  succumb  under 
the  accumulated  labors  of  Bishop  Chabrat, 
and  accordingly  we  find  him  suddenly 
attacked  by  amaurosis,  to  relieve  which 
the  skill  of  the  best  oculists  of  the  State 
was  unavailable.  He  was  then  advised  to 
consult  the  faculty  of  Paris.     These  also 


failed  in  their  labor  of  love,  and  in  their 
decision  the  good  bishop  read  the  designs 
of  the  Most  High  that  the  will  was  ac- 
cepted for  the  deed  and  that  his  labors 
were  terminated  upon  their  present  theatre ; 
and  therefore  he  laid  his  petition  before 
the  Sovereign  Pontiff,  Pio  Nono,  who 
accepted  his  resignation  in  the  year  1847, 
and  shortly  after  appointed  in  his  place 
the  present  renowned  Archbishop  of  Balti- 
more, to  which  latter  see  he  was  transferred 
July  the  31st,  1864.  During  the  adminis- 
tration of  Bishop  Chabrat,  Indiana,  Illinois, 
Tennesee,  Arkansas,  etc.,  were  erecred 
by  the  Holy  See  into  separate  dioceses, 
each  under  its  own  consecrated  bishop. 

At  this  distant  day  and  remote  place  we 
can  neither  give  the  exact  date  of  his 
birth  nor  ordination.  We  know  that  he 
had  the  honor  of  coming  into  this  world 
on  Christmas  day,  the  anniversary  of  our 
dear  Lord's  own  nativity,  and  presume  he 
was  over  eighty  years  at  the  time  of  his  de- 
cease, having  entered  on  the  onerous  duties 
of  the  priesthood  about  the  year  1814 ;  and, 
if  so,  he  must  have  celebrated  his  golden 
jubilee  several  years  before  being  called 
to  celebrate  his  everlasting  jubilee  in  the 
kingdom  of  heaven.  His  first  rudiments 
of  learning  were  acquired  through  the 
loving  care  of  an  affectionate  mother,  and 
from  her  he  learned  to  practice  every 
virtue.  Later,  and  when  yet  quite  a  child, 
he  studied  Latin  and  served  in  the  house 
of  God  under  the  immediate  superintend- 
ence of  a  pious  ecclesiastic,  his  uncle, 
whose  wisdom  and  prudence  inspired  the 
youthful  Levite  with  a  love  of  virtue,  so 
that  he  ran  after  her  in  the  odor  of  her  per- 
fume and  quaffed  largely  from  that  foun- 
tain of  living  waters  opened  by  the  Sa- 
viour, and  of  which  Christ  said,  "if  ye 
drink  of  this  water  of  life,  ye  shall  not 
thirst  forever." 

Of  the  life  and  habits  of  our  amiable 
bishop  during  the  last  twenty  years  we 
know  little,  save  that  he  lived  in  a  state  of 
constant  suffering,  from  an  accumulation 
of  infirmities,  depending  exclusively  upon 
others  to  supply  his  wants  and  minister 
to  his  pleasures.     Though  almost  blind, 


AVE      MARIA 


295 


he  often  corresponded  with  his  numer- 
ous friends  in  Kentucky,  and  nothing 
seemed  to  afford  him  more  real  satisfac- 
tion than  to  know  the  tree  of  good  works 
which  he  had  planted,  and  so  long  watered 
with  more  than  maternal  care,  was  attain- 
ing a  magnificent  growth,  and  was  diffus- 
ing on  all  around  the  luscious  fruits  it 
was  calculated  to  bestow.  All  these  good 
works  shall  impart  to  him,  their  founder, 
an  accidental  glory,  which  will  go  on 
augmenting  till  time  shall  be  no  more. 
During  his  retreat  among  his  friends,  in 
his  native  place,  his  charitable  heart  could 
not  be  satisfied  without  performing  acts 
of  kindness;  and  in  a  time  of  scarcity  he 
even  sold  his  plate,  furniture  and  watch, 
that  with  the  proceeds  he  might  assist  the 
destitute;  and  the  people  were  always 
proud  to  flock  around,  invoking  the  choic- 
est blessings  of  heaven  upon  their  "dear 
father,  their  kind  holy  bishop." 

An  elder  brother  of  Bishop  Chabrat  em- 
braced the  high  responsibilities  of  the 
priesthood,  and  lived  to  a  good  old  age 
as  pastor  and  beloved  father  of  his  flock, 
conducting  it  through  the  flowery  meads 
of  virtue  and  religion  with  a  holy  «eal  and 
paternal  tenderness,  always  giving  the  ex- 
ample of  every  good  and  every  perfect 
work.  Another  brother  studied  for  the 
bar,  and  a  third  became  a  doctor  of  medi- 
cine, and  each  attained  considerable  emi- 
nence in  his  profession.  The  fifth  bishop 
in  the  see  of  Louisville,  Rt.  Rev.  P.  J. 
Lavialle,  was  a  cousin  of  Bishop  Chabrat, 
but  he  lived  only  twenty  months  to  admin- 
ister the  diocese,  when  the  angel  of  death 
folded  his  wings  about  him,  and  his  soul 
was  wafted  to  the  bosom  of  its  God.  His 
parents,  relations — with  himself — have  all 
passed  away  as  the  mists  of  the  morning, 
but  their  good  deeds,  and  exemplary  lives 
remain  as  beacons  of  light,  pointing  to 
the  goal  of  our  desires,  thus  encouraging 
the  present  as  well  as  the  future  genera- 
tions to  walk  bravely  on  in  the  path  that 
leads  to  life,  just  as  the  tears  of  night  are 
collected  upon  the  face  of  the  flowers,  and 
glitter  like  brilliant  gems  in  the  rays  of 
the  rising  morn.     It  was  in  communion 


with  the  world,  it  was  in  listening  cheer- 
fully to  the  tale  of  woe  poured  out  at  his 
feet,  it  was  in  bearing  with  the  frailties 
of  others,  and  making  himself  all  to  all, 
that  Bishop  Chabrat  acquired  the  rare 
knowledge  of  living  as  a  true  disciple  of 
Christ;  while  it  was  in  the  solitude  of  his 
retirement,  in  a  constant  intercourse  with 
his  Maker,  in  the  communion  and  breaking 
of  bread,  that  he  learned  to  die. 

Being  a  devoted  client  of  our  dear 
Mother  Mary,  in  his  younger  days  he  had 
learned  by  heart  the  Mass  of  her  Immac- 
ulate Conception,  and  whilst  he  was  able 
to  go  to  the  altar  he  always  said  that 
Mass.  To  officiate  thus  was  a  great  con- 
solation to  him  in  this  painful  bereavement 
of  sight,  and  from  his  early  boyhood  he 
allowed  no  day  to  pass  without  saluting 
our  Lady  by  reciting  at  least  a  part  of  her 
rosary.  Our  Lord  never  fails  to  reward 
the  smallest  action  performed  for  His 
honor  and  glory,  and  hence  he  bore  this 
painful  visitation,  as  coming  from  a  loving 
Father,  with  extraordinary  fortitude,  and 
submitted  to  all  the  privations  to  which 
such  an  aflliction  necessarily  subjected 
him  with  exemplary  patience,  knowing 
that  he  would  thereby  gain  a  crown  of 
everlasting  glory  to  wreathe  his  brow 
during  the  long  bright  day  of  eternity. 

lie  is  gone!  His  spirit  has  fled;  and 
with  angelic  eyes  he  is  looking  upon  the 
face  of  his  God  or  chanting  the  praises  of 
his  Immaculate  Queen,  or  offering  up  his 
prayers  for  those  dear  ones  whose  barques 
are  yet  tossed  amid  the  tempests  and  the 
billows  of  life.  He  is  gone  I  gone  to  rest ! 
and  the  flowers  all  glittering  with  the  tears 
of  night  in  the  bright  sunshine  shall  hang 
in  festoons  of  glory  over  his  mausoleum, 
and  the  sweet  choristers  of  heaven  shall 
sing  requiem  all  day  long  about  him,  and 
mothers  shall  bring  their  infants  to  lisp  a 
Deprofundia  for  the  repose  of  the  soul  of 
their  deeply  lamented,  much  respected,  and 
highly  honored  Father  Chabrat,  Bishop 
of  Bolina  and  Coadjutor  Bishop  of  Louis- 
ville, Kentucky.     Requiescat  in  pace. 

The  above  is  laid  as  a  bouquet  of  sweet- 
scented  flowers  upon  the  tomb  of  his  lord- 


296 


AVE      MARIA 


ship,  by  his  grateful  daughters,  and  may 
the  odor  of  their  prayers  arise  as  a  cloud 
of  fragrant  incense  to  surround  the  loving 
Heart  of  Jesus,  and  impetrate  mercy  upon 
the  soul  of  their  departed  benefactor,  friend, 
father,  and  bishop. 

Viola  Bijou. 


^  »  ♦  «  ^ 


SAINT  L¥DIA, 

Patroness  of  the  Sick  Room. 

There  is  one  condition  of  poor  humanity 
in  which  all  have  an  especial  interest; 
other  states  of  life  are  restricted  to  one 
class  of  persons  or  another,  but  this  con- 
dition, sooner  or  later, embraces  all  classes; 
we  mean  the  sick  room  or  infirmary.  Few 
persons,  indeed,  pass  through  this  valley 
of  tears  without  some  experience  of  the 
trials  and  consolations  of  the  sick  room ; 
to  many  it  has  become  familiar,  either  in 
their  own  persons  or  in  the  persons  of 
those  who  were  dear  to  them.  To  many 
the  very  name  of  the  sick  room  will  call 
up  remembrances  of  hours  passed  in  pain, 
in  restless  burning  fever,  of  wakeful  nights, 
or  of  weary,  slow-creeping  days  and  weeks 
of  languor  and  inactivity.  If  their  ex- 
perience has  been  gained  in  attendance 
on  others,  the  sick  room  will  recall  sad 
memories  of  vainly  protracted  hope  and 
of  growing  fear  for  the  life  of  a  beloved 
friend;  of  the  wandering  of  delirium, 
the  incoherent  speech,  the  look  of  va- 
cancy instead  of  affectionate  recognition; 
of  the  running  down  of  lifers  sands,  the 
unavailing  skill  and  tenderness  of  men 
of  science,  the  closing  agony,  and  the 
final  sigh  of  the  passing  spirit.  Life  and 
death  meet  together  in  the  sick  room, 
and  struggle  for  the  mastery;  the  by- 
standers can  only  watch  and  pray,  and 
alleviate,  but  are  powerless  to  aid  in  that 
eventful  crisis. 

What  triumphs  of  grace  have  been  re- 
served for  the  sick  room  in  the  records  of 
the  Church  of  Christ !  How  many  pass- 
ages of  holy  scripture  have  supplied  ex- 
pression to  the  overflowing  sentiments  of 
love  and  hope  with  which  the  dying  saint 


took  leave  of  the  things  of  time  !  Cupio 
dissolvi — I  long  to  be  dissolved,  and  to  be 
with  Christ — was  a  favorite  sentence  with 
many  of  them ;  the  sweet  names  of  Jesus, 
Mary  and  Joseph  lingered  on  their  lips, 
till  the  vision  of  heaven  was  made  plain. 
Holy  Viaticum  for  the  weary  pilgrim,  last 
unction  for  the  dying,  absolution,  and  the 
benediction  of  peace  for  the  passing  soul 
— it  is  in  the  sick  room  that  these  rich 
gifts,  purchased  on  Calvary,  are  unfolded 
and  applied  in  the  bosom  of  the  Catholic 
Church. 

No  cold  didactic  prayers  for  the  children 
of  the  kingdom  in  their  hours  of  weariness 
and  pain;  no  mere  recollection  of  the 
absent  Redeemer;  but  Himself,  in  His 
sacramental  presence,  in  intimate,  insep- 
arable nearness,  with  the  rod  and  the  staff 
of  His  mighty  power  and  of  His  unfailing 
love,  to  accompany  the  redeemed  soul 
through  the  dark  valley  which  conducts 
her  to  the  endless  vision  of  His  beauty. 
His  left  hand  is  under  her  head,  and  His 
right  doth  sustain  her. 

It  is,  however,  in  the  sick  chamber  of 
the  poor  that  the  triumph  of  Christian 
faith  shines  with  more  signal  lustre. 
There,  the  hardships  and  privations  of 
poverty  press  with  a  keener  pain  on  the 
weak  and  sinking  victim  of  disease.  Little 
comforts  and  alleviations,  which  money 
can  procure,  are  excluded  from  the  sick 
room  of  the  poor ;  even  the  necessary  re- 
pose and  stillness,  which  his  aching  head 
requires,  cannot  be  procured  in  a  chamber 
common  to  the  whole  family.  Yet  the 
peace  of  God,  which  passeth  all  under- 
standing, takes  possession  of  many  a 
chamber  in  circumstances  of  disadvantage 
like  these. 

Heaven's  glory  is  daily  opening  on  many 
a  purified  soul  as  it  passes  from  a  bed  of 
straw,  surrounded  by  famished  little  ones, 
in  dens  of  squalid  wretchedness  into  which 
the  pitying  eye  of  man  seldom  looks. 

One  can  hardly  open  the  Lives  of  the 
Saints  without  finding  much  in  the  history 
of  each  that  bears  on  the  subject  of  the 
sick  room.  The  proverbial  patience  of 
holy  Job  is  no  singular  or  rare  virtue  in 


AVE      MARIA. 


297 


the  di»ciplo8  of  our  crucified  Redeemer; 
and  it  is  remarkable  that  many  of  the  saintH 
who  had  most  to  suffer  in  tlie  close  of  their 
lives,  from  bodily  intirmitics,  were  those 
whose  early  career  had  been  spent  in 
heroic  works  of  Christian  mercy.  It  is 
necessary  only  to  refer  to  the  history  of 
saints  like  Camillus  of  Lcllis  and  Vincent 
of  Paul,  for  a  confirmation  of  this  view. 
But  it  is  to  the  sick  bed  of  the  Blessed 
Lydia,  or  Lidwina,  whose  festival  is  com- 
memorated on  the  14th  of  January,  that 
one  naturally  turns  for  a  rare  and  perfect 
example  of  coui-ageous  patience  under  com- 
plication of  every  circumstance  that  can 
render  such  a  scene  a  school  of  difficult 
practice  in  Christian  virtue. 

Keen  8ufl*erings  of  the  most  excruciating 
kind,  and  their  continuance  for  nearly 
eight-and-thirty  years,  have  won  for  Lydia 
the  high  distinction  of  being  regarded  as 
justly  the  patroness  and  the  model  of  the 
sick  room  and  the  infirmary. 

Lydia,  or,  as  she  was  called  in  Dutch, 
Lydwyt,  and  very  commonly  Lidwige,  or 
Lidwina,  was  born  at  Scheidam,  a  town  of 
Holland,  at  the  mouth  of  the  river  Meuse. 
Peter,  her  father,  though  of  noble  descent, 
and  his  ancestors  of  military  rank,  was 
obliged  to  earn  his  living  as  a  night-watch- 
man in  Scheidam. 

The  earliest  incident  recorded  of  her 
childhood  is  another  example  of  the  strange 
power  with  which  the  hearts  of  saints  are 
invariably  attracted  to  the  Virgin  Mother 
of  Jesus.  The  rector  of  the  church  of 
Scheidam  had  purchased  from  a  sculptor 
a  very  fine  wooden  figure  of  the  holy  Vir- 
gin, which  he  had  erected  in  his  church 
with  great  ceremony  amidst  a  vast  con- 
course of  people.  Little  Lydia,  who  was 
then  about  seven  or  eight  years  old,  be- 
came very  fond  of  the  image ;  and  when 
she  was  sent  of  a  morning  to  carry  their 
breakfast  to  her  two  brothers  at  school, 
she  generally  called  at  the  church  on  her 
way  home  to  say  a  "  Hail  Mary"  before  it. 
Her  mother,  thinking  she  had  been  loiter- 
ing on  the  way,  once  found  fault  with  her 
for  staying  so  long;  then  her  little  girl 
told  her  where  she  had  been,  and  that 


while  she  was  praying  the  holy  Virgin  had 
smiled  upon  her.  After  that,  her  mother 
made  no  more  complaints. 

Lydia  grew  up  a  very  beautiful,  clever, 
and  engaging  child.  She  was  hardly  more 
than  a  child  before  she  had  several  offers 
of  marriage.  Her  father  insisted  a  good 
deal  on  her  accepting  one  of  them;  but 
her  mother,  with  a  woman^s  delicate  pru- 
dence, begged  for  delay  on  account  of  her 
extreme  youth. 

The  child  herself  declined  them  all,  and 
prayed  every  day  that  all  human  love 
might  he  excluded  from  her  heart  and  that 
her  affections  might  be  fixed  on  God  alone, 
with  a  pure  heart  and  virgin  body.  Her  es- 
pousals to  her  Lord  were  ratified  and  sealed, 
as  is  His  frequent  method,  with  the  cross. 

Early  in  February,  1395,  when  she  had 
almost  completed  her  fifteenth  year,  she 
was  skating  on  the  ice  with  some  of  her 
young  companions.  One  of  them  who 
was  moving  rapidly  along,  and  attempting 
some  feat  which  she  could  not  perform, 
caught  hold  of  Lydia  to  keep  herself  from 
falling;  and  Lydia  was  thrown  with  viol- 
ence upon  some  rough  lumps  of  ice,  and 
broke  one  of  the  short  ribs  on  her  right 
side.  An  abscess  was  soon  formed,  which 
defied  every  resource  of  art  to  cure  it. 

The  poor  child  was  worn  out  with  pain ; 
she  was  moved  from  bed  to  bed,  from  one 
place  to  another,  in  hopes  of  some  little 
relief  to  her  torture.  But  this  was  only 
the  beginning  of  her  weary  trial,  of  a  long 
series  of  agonies  and  complicated  diseases, 
from  which  death  set  her  free  thirty-eight 
years  afterwards.  It  is  distressing  even 
to  read  of  what  she  suffered.  The  young 
merry  girl  was  not  at  first  used  to  so  much 
pain ;  it  weighed  down  her  spirits,  and 
made  her  very  unhappy.  "When  any  one 
went  to  see  her,  she  used  to  beg  for  some- 
thing to  ease  her  intolerable  sufferings. 
By-and-by  she  was  able  to  crawl  about  the 
house,  and  about  the  door,  with  the  help 
of  a  staff.  After  that  her  feet  began  to  re- 
fuse their  office,  and  she  had  to  make  use 
of  crutches.  The  first  two  years  after  the 
accident  on  the  ice,  she  was  carried  to 
church  at  Easter,  for  her  Communion. 


298 


AVE     MARIA. 


Pain  and  illness  require  a  novitiate  or 
apprenticeship,  like  other  difficult  things; 
this  little  spouse  of  Jesus  was  going 
through  hers,  and  it  cost  her  a  sad  deal 
of  trouble  to  get  accustomed  to  the  yoke 
of  His  bitter  Passion  and  Cross.  Things 
grew  worse  instead  of  better;  she  was  un- 
able to  leave  her  bed ;  and  for  thirty-three 
years  of  her  life  her  foot  never  touched 
the  ground.  For  some  time  she  was  much 
like  other  sick  people,  complaining  a  good 
deal  of  her  hardships,  wishing,  oh !  so 
anxiously,  to  get  well  again. 

Her  young  companions,  full  of  life  and 
health,  sometimes  looked  in  to  see  her.  At 
those  times  poor  Lydia  would  cry  bitterly — 
it  was  quite  impossible  to  comfort  her. 

Her  kind  confessor,  John  Pott,  used  to 
bring  her  Holy  Communion  twice  a  year 
at  this  early  stage  of  her  illness.  When- 
ever he  found  it  difficult  to  console  her, 
or  make  her  dry  her  tears,  he  used  to  per- 
suade her  to  think  of  Jesus  in  His  Pas- 
sion, and  so  to  endeavor  to  conform  her- 
self, in  some  degree,  to  the  sweet  will  of 
God.  Though  he  promised  her  great  re- 
lief and  comfort  if  she  would  try  this,  and 
gave  her  an  easy  method  of  doing  so,  she 
was  soon  weary  of  it ;  she  could  not  fix  her 
heart  on  it  at  all — the  pain  of  her  body 
was  so  sharp  and  so  constant.  The  good 
man  encouraged  her  to  persevere — even 
to  do  violence  to  her  natural  inclination. 

She  obeyed  him,  and  at  last  learned  the 
secret  of  patience.  By  his  advice  she 
divided  the  history  of  the  Passion  into 
seven  parts,  corresponding  to  the  seven 
canonical  hours  of  prayer,  and  at  certain 
fixed  times  through  the  day  and  night 
she  went  over  those  events   in  her  mind. 

This  pious  habit  grew  upon  her,  so  that 
she  was  at  last  able  to  measure  time  al- 
most as  accurately  as  by  the  clock.  While 
she  meditated,  her  heart  was  filled  with  a 
flood  of  sweetness  and  joy;  it  seemed  to 
her  that  the  sufferings  Avhich  she  had  a 
little  before  felt  so  intolerable,  had  been 
laid  on  Him  whose  Passion  she  was  think- 
ing of.  When  she  became  thoroughly 
used  to  this  devotion,  it  was  such  an  un- 
failing source  of  comfort  to  her  poor  heart. 


that  she  declared  if  she  could  be  cured 

with  no  more  trouble  than  saying  a  "  Hail 

Mary  "    she  would  not  make  the  attempt. 

[to  bk  contintjed.] 


Life  of  Mother  Mary  Seraphfne  F- 


[COKTINUED.] 

In  her  fervor  and  zeal  to  correspond  to 
the  designs  of  God,  it  was  not  only  her 
vocation  to  a  religious  life  that  filled  her 
soul  with  gratitude,  but  that  she  was  led 
to  her  own  particular  order.  Each  one  of 
the  various  different  ftimilies  of  religious 
whom  she  was  called  on  to  aid,  met  full 
and  enlightened  response;  not  even  her 
humility  could  make  her  afraid  of  doing 
anything  that  could  satisfy  her  zeal  for 
her  neighbors'  good.  The  Holy  Spirit 
seemed  Himself  to  direct  her,  giving  to 
her  spirit  a  share  in  His  own  universality, 
for  she  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  va- 
rious orders,  explained  each  with  unction 
and  clearness,  loved  the  customs  and  ven- 
erated the  characteristics  of  each  ;  but  her 
filial  affection  was  wholly  for  her  own. 
She  loved  and  admired  the  union  and 
exact  conformity  that  reigned  in  all  the 
numerous  houses  of  the  order;  the  means, 
full  of  wisdom,  which  were  devised  to 
maintain  this  union  and  conformity,  while 
each  house  was  wholly  independent  of 
others,  and  subject  only  to  its  own  bishop ; 
the  mutual  zeal  which  all  were  enjoined  to 
have  for  the  preservation  of  regularity;  the 
care  they  took  of  the  infirm  among  them ; 
the  respect  and  consideration  they  were 
required  to  practice  in  their  intercourse 
with  each  other;  the  simplicity  of  the 
means  that  had  been  assigned,  and  fully 
sufficed,  to  lead  them  to  the  height  of  spirit- 
ual perfection ;  the  least  rules  even  of  her 
order  filled  her  with  admiration  and  joy, 
and  she  found  in  them  a  treasure  of  light, 
of  grace  and  benediction.  Thence  came 
her  zeal  for  the  perfection  of  her  dear  in- 
stitute, for  the  perfect  observance  of  its 
rules  and  preservation  of  its  primitive 
spirit,  and  her  desire  to  see  the  daughters 
of  the  order  walk  with  steadfast  steps  in 


AVE       MARIA. 


299 


the  xvay  traced  out  for  thcra.  "  Wo  are 
called  to  the  highest  height  of  perfection 
it  is  ])ossi1)le  for  us  to  attain  to,"  she 
would  often  say,  adding  with  deep  feeling: 
"  I  cannot  thinlc  without  trembling  of  what 
our  Lord  said  to  the  first  mother  of  our 
order:  *I  have  called  this  band  and  they 
are  My  elect  ones,  but  I  will  that  they 
shall  be  holy.' " 

The  conteiupt  she  had  for  the  world,  for 
its  honors,  its  pleasures,  and  its  customs, 
was  in  accordance  with  her  esteem  for  her 
vocation.  Her  ideas  on  this  point,  and 
the  force  with  which  she  expressed  them, 
would  appear  exaggerated  to  souls  less 
replenished  with  the  spirit  of  faith.  She 
showed  the  vanity  of  all  those  things  that 
merely  gratify  nature;  she  depicted  clearly 
the  bitterness,  the  sharp  thorns  that  were 
hidden  under  the  appearance  of  pleasure, 
combatting  thus  the  illusions  by  which  the 
evil  one  blinds  souls,  and  sometimes  even 
retains  under  his  empire  those  whom  the 
goodness  of  God  called  to  a  religious  life. 
She  had  acquired  in  the  school  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  a  wonderful  knowledge  of 
worldly  affairs,  that  justified  her  assurance 
to  a  person  who  was  astonished  at  the  ease 
with  which  she  comprehended  and  formed 
her  judgment  of  circumstances,  that,  from 
her  way  of  life,  she  might  be  supposed  to 
be  wholly  ignorant  of.  "None  know  the 
world  so  well  as  those  who  stand  apart 
from  the  world."  She  was  consulted  on 
all  subjects,  and  her  decisions,  if  acted  on, 
invariably  produced  the  best  results;  there 
was  no  trouble  she  could  not  enter  into, 
no  difficulty  she  could  not  appreciate,  no 
affair  that  she  could  not  see  in  all  its  as- 
pects at  the  first  view.  Thus,  people  of 
the  world,  struck  with  her  rare  prudence, 
and  a  clearsightedness  as  remarkable, 
readily  opened  their  hearts  to  her,  and 
found  in  her  the  most  heartfelt  compassion 
and  all  the  resources  of  supernatural  char- 
ity. "There  was  something  absolutely 
marvellous  in  good  Mother  Scraphine," 
said  a  lady  who  had  been  intimate  with 
her  for  many  years;  "I  never  met  any- 
body else  who  gave  one  the  impression 
she  did.     It  was  not  that  she  could  speak 


80  well  of  the  things  of  God  that  one 
admired  in  her,  for  that  was  to  be  expected 
of  a  religious;  but  that  in  all  her  conver- 
sations, simple  as  her  words  were,  there  was 
so  much  enlightenment  and  peace,  one 
felt  God  in  it;  she  was  so  kind  too,  with 
all  her  plaindcaling,  one  never  left  her 
without  consolation." 

Some  traits  should  be  given  to  show 
how  faithfully  Sister  Seraphine  observed 
her  religious  vows  of  obedience,  poverty 
and  chastity.  Her  obedience  had  all  the 
characters  pointed  out  in  the  constitu- 
tions of  the  order  as  essential  for  its  per- 
fection. The  spirit  of  dependence,  of 
littleness,  of  childlike  submission,  that 
was  always  conspicuous  in  her,  in  her  old 
age  became  still  more  evident,  .when, 
after  years  of  government,  she  returned 
under  the  yoke  of  obedience.  As  she 
had  been  ready  at  the  call  of  her  supe- 
riors to  quit  her  monastery  and  labor  in 
works  of  the  first  importance,  so  was  she 
equally  ready  to  engage  in  the  humblest 
offices  of  the  house, — in  all  showing  the 
same  promptitude,  forgetfulness  of  self, 
remission  into  the  hands  of  superiors, 
and  joyous  acquiescence  in  the  will  of 
God.  Towards  her  superior  she  showed 
the  utmost  docility.  "If  you  were  rea- 
sonable you  would  go  to  bed  now,"  the 
superior  would  sometimes  say,  noticing 
the  fatigued  look  of  the  venerable  nun. 
"Truly,  mother,  I  have  not  felt  the  need 
of  it,"  would  be  the  answer;  "but  if  you 
in  your  kindness  think  it  best,  I  am  quite 
ready,"  and  instantly  the  work  was  laid 
aside;  meanwhile  to  retire  so  early  only 
added  to  her  suffering,  for  she  was  for 
many  years  subject  to  great  restlessness 
in  the  earlier  part  of  the  night,  and  her 
only  quiet  sleep  was  towards  morning. 
In  the  same  way,  she  was  always  eager  to 
rise  with  the  first  stroke  of  the  bell,  not- 
withstanding her  deficient  rest,  unless 
commanded  to  prolong  her  repose.  In 
this  case  her  obedience  cost  her  the  great- 
est of  sacrifices,  in  depriving  her  of  Holy 
Communion  when  not  permitted  to  rise 
for  the  community  Mass. 

[to  be  CONTINrED.] 


300 


AVE      IVEARIA 


[From  the  Iiondon  Register.] 

Roman  News. 

The  number  of  visitors  in  Rome  during 
Holy  Week,  this  year,  was  60,000,  of 
whom  some  10,000  were  Germans.  Con- 
cerning the  Holy  Father,  and  the  ceremo- 
nies of  Holy  Week,  the  reliable  corres- 
pondent of  the  London  Register  says : 

"  The  ceremonies  of  Holy  Week  began  by  the 
Tenebrse  yesterday  afternoon  in  the  Sixtine.  The 
Pope  assisted  at  part  of  the  office,  and  I  need 
scarcely  say  the  crowd  was  immense.  At  St.  Pe- 
ter's this  morning  the  same  may  be  observed,  al- 
though the  Sixtine  was  absolutely  crowded  to  suf- 
focation, and  every  place  occupied,  for  the  Lavan- 
da  in  the  transept  of  the  basilica  and  the  Canon's 
Mass  in  the  Julian  Chapel  were  equally  besieged 
by  visitors  from  every  portion  of  the  globe.  The 
very  tribe  of  gypsies  was  represented,  for  the 
chiefs  of  the  camp  of  Hungarian  Zingarai,  which 
pitched  its  tents  last  week  at  Porta  Angelica, 
were  conspicuous  in  the  assembly,  with  their  lit- 
tle active  figures,  their  black  cloth  jackets  trimmed 
with  astrackan  and  glittering  with  silver  chains 
and  buttons,  and  their  long  elf  locks  of  plaited  black 
hair.  They  brought  a  child,  by  the  way,  to  St. 
Peter's  on  Saturday  to  be  baptized,  and  are  greatly 
insulted  if  not  considered  on  the  same  footing  as 
other  Christians. 

"  The  Pope  entered  the  Sixtine  about  ten,  and, 
after  assisting  at  Mass,  carried  the  Adorable  Sacra- 
ment to  the  Pauline  Chapel,  accompanied  by  the 
cardinals,  bishops,  and  the  great  officers  of  State. 
The  King,  Queen,  and  Princesses  of  Naples,  the 
Dukes  of  Parma,  Saxe-Meiningen,  and  Baden,  the 
Prince  Hereditary  of  Monaco,  and  the  rest  of  the 
royal  or  mediatised  visitors,  occupied  the  raised 
platforms  in  the  centre  of  the  chapel,  and  after- 
wards followed  the  Holy  Father  to  the  Lavanda 
and  Cena,  which  he  performed  as  usual.  The  Ben- 
ediction was  a  magnificent  sight,  and  was  as  nu- 
merously attended  as  it  generally  is  at  Easter,  and 
gave  one  a  good  idea  of  what  the  spectacle  will  be 
this  year  on  that  day.  The  Pope's  voice  was  re- 
markably full  and  clear,  and  every  word  of  the 
long  prayer  which  commences  the  ceremony  was 
audible  in  the  Piazza.  He  had  appeared  a  little 
fatigued  in  the  morning,  but  this  must  have  been 
more  apparent  than  real,  for  his  voice  (which  is 
with  him  an  unerring  barometer  of  health)  was 
unfaltering,  and  the  increased  appearance  of  age 
takes  little  from  his  strength  and  energy. 

"An  audience  will  be  given  on  Holy  Saturday  to 
1,200  persons." 


The  position  of  the  Oriental  Churches 
in  reference  to  the  coming  General  Coun- 
cil is  thus  described : 

"The  Russian  agents  in  Rome  are  doing  all  they 
can  to  circulate  reports  regarding  the  Armenian 
and  Maronite  Churches,  and  their  discontent  with 
the  Oilcumenical  Council.  Not  a  word  of  this  is 
true,  and  the  best  proof  is  that  the  Maronite  and 
Armenian  Patriarchs  are  expected  very  soon  after 
Easter  to  engage  in  the  preparatory  works.  Rus- 
sia denies  the  union  she  can  never  hope  to  attain, 
and,  too  proud  to  renounce  her  schism,  too  weak 
to  repress  the  sects  who  have  followed  the  example 
of  revolt  she  has  shown  them,  unable  to  deceive 
the  Holy  See  as  to  her  intentions,  and  furious  be- 
cause Pius  IX  steadily  refuses  diplomatic  relations 
with  a  Power  actively  engaged  in  the  persecution 
of  Polish  and  Russian  Catholics,  she  has  no  re- 
source save  calumny.  Several  organs  of  the  Eng- 
lish press  are  unhappily  "  coached "  by  Russians. 
I  may  instance  the  PaU  MaU  Oazette  as  notoriously 
under  Russian  influence  in  all  that  regards  Rome, 
and  it  therefore  behooves  Catholics  and  truth-seek- 
ing Protestants  to  accept  with  doubt  the  absurd 
statements  of  Roman  correspondents  as  to  the 
Eastern  Churches.  There  is  perfect  dogmatic  and 
ecclesiastical  union,  and  it  is  more  than  probable 
that  any  points  of  discipline  which  may  be  a  diffi- 
culty to  Anglicans  will  rather  be  sacrificed  by  the 
Oriental  Churches  than  retained,  should  the  com- 
mon welfare  call  for  it.  " 


^  »  »  »  » 


Okdinations— On  Friday,  April  2d,  the  Rt. 
Rev.  Dr.  Ryan,  Bishop  of  Buffalo,  in  the  cathedral 
of  that  city,  conferred  Holy  Orders  upon  the  fol- 
lowing gentlemen:  Rev.  Messrs.  Edward  Kelly, 
and  James  McCabe,  from  the  Seminary  of  Our 
Lady  of  Angels,  Suspension  Bridge,  Niagara  Falls  ; 
Rev.  Messrs.  John  J.  Baxter,  John  Brady,  and 
Michael  Cunningham  from  St.  Bonaventure's  Col- 
lege, Allegany. 

On  the  5th  of  April,  Rt  Rev.  James  P.  Wood, 
Bishop  of  Philadelphia,  conferred  the  Holy  Order 
of  Priesthood  on  Messrs.  Luke  McCabe,  Matthew 
P.  O'Brien,  Daniel  J.  Kennedy,  John  B.  Kelly, 
George  J.  Kelly,  Bernard  Dornhege  and  Hubert 
Shick. 


Rev.  Dr.  Kxrr,  a  Presbyterian  missionary, 
writing  to  the  Occident  of  this  city,  from  Canton, 
January  16th,  says:  "  The  Roman  Catholics  are  not 
idle.  About  twenty  Priests  are  at  work  in  the 
Province.  An  immense,  cathedral  is  being  built  in 
this  city,  of  solid  granite'  which  will  cost  not  less 
than  one  mDlion  of  doUara."— San  Francisco  Mon- 
itor. 


AVE      MARIA. 


301 


HAIL,   TIRGIM,   DEAREST   MART! 
A.  acA^Y  HYMN, — m:xj8ic  from:  tub  ox:RMA.rir. 


Sopro. 
Alto. 


Hail,   Vir  -  gin!  dear -est  Ma  -  ry,  Our    lovely  Queen  of  May;  O 


spot-less,  bless  -  ed 


^=^=^=^^ 


La  -  dy,  Our    love  -  ly  Queen     of     Ma  v.    Thy    children  humbly 


fe^^ 


^  4,  f  I  p~w~r~w 


^     ^ 


-V — v^ 


^^ 


5==ji 


4-^9^  '144 ^-^ 


^ 


I  p  y   ^j  r  r  r  _gg^ 
» » »      '  ^  ' 


M^ 


N     ,N     ^ 


SB 


-♦ N- 


i^  i^  '^ 


"""" ? — tr 

ben-ding    A- round   thy  shrine  so       dear;  With  heart  and    voice     as  -  cend-ing,   Sweet 


^m 


'^^ 


t±±zt 


■V-— ? 


IlXjj'   I  tUjTfU  '<  M 


^^ 


^^ 


S  - K 


5 


^^ 


ES 


P— P 


302 


AVE      MARIA. 


Behold  earth's  blossoms  springing, 
In  beauteous  form  and  hue  ; 

All  nature  gladly  bringing, 
Her  sweetest  charms  to  you. 

We'll  gather  fresh  bright  flowers, 
To  bind  our  fair  Queen's  brow ; 

From  gay  and  verdant  bowers. 
We  haste  to  crown  thee  now. 

The  rose  and  lily  wreathing, 

The  humble  violet  fair, 
To  thee  their  perfumes  breathing, 

With  sweetness  scent  the  air ; 


The  mignonette,  the  lilac, 
And  sweet  for-get-me-not — 

•The  eglantine  and  myrtle. 

To  grace  your  wreath  we've  brought 

The  heliotrope,  sweet  type  of  love. 

And  star  of  Bethl'em  too — 
The  lily  of  the  valley. 

Complete  the  wreath  for  you. 

And  now,  our  blessed  Mother, 

Smile  on  our  festal  day. 
Accept  our  wreath  of  flowers, 

And  be  our  Queen  of  May. 


HILDREN'S 


EPARTMENT. 


[Translated  from  the  French  for  the  Ati  Maria.] 

MARY   OUR  MODEL. 


Labor. 

The  Blessed  Virgin  labored  all  her  life. 
She  worked  during  her  youth  for  her  own 
instruction,  and  afterward  to  gain  bread 
for  herself  and  Jesus,  both  before  and  af- 
ter the  flight  into  Egypt. 

It  is  thought  that  St.  Joachim  and  St. 
Ann  possessed  a  certain  independence,  but 
in  those  days  young  girls  were  not  brought 
up  in  idleness;  the  greatest  care  was  taken 
to  instil  into  their  minds  habits  of  indus- 
try. Household  work  and  serious  tasks 
should  be  the  main  point  in  the  education 
of  females.  How  happy  Mary  must  have 
been,  when  she  aided  St.  Joseph  in  work- 


ing for  the  Infant  Jesus,  that  she  had  been 
taught  to  labor  in  her  childhood. 

After  the  faults  that  are  opposed  to  re- 
ligion and  morality,  the  greatest  that  can 
be  attributed  to  many  rich  families,  and  to 
certain  boarding-schools,  is  that  they  ed- 
ucate young  girls  in  idleness,  frivolity,  and 
in  a  kind  of  moral  paganism  that  is  totally 
opposed  to  the  spirit  of  the  gospel.  They 
fill  their  heads  with  worldly  ideas,  with  the 
love  of  vanity,  of  dress,  of  games,  and  festiv- 
ities of  all  kinds ;  or  at  least  give  them  rea- 
son to  think  that  their  business  here  on 
earth  is  to  be  dressed  up  like  a  pretty  doll, 
according  to  the  fashion  of  the  time,  to  be 
the  object  of  the  sterile  admiration  of 
idlers;  as  if  the  life  of  a  child  of  God  was 
but  a  stupid  parade !  Shall  we  look  for 
the  characteristics  of  the  valiant  woman 
of  Holy  Writ  in  these  effeminate  and  indo- 
lent girls?  You  will  for  the  most  part 
find  in  them  minds  weakened  and  vitiated, 
and  hearts  still  more  corrupt. 


AVE      MARIA. 


303 


Let  us  turn  away  from  these  sad  crea- 
tures, and  direct  our  ttioughtsto  the  Bless- 
ed Virgin,  as  she  learns  the  law  of  God 
from  the  lips  of  St.  Ann,  and  begins 
to  sew  and  spin  under  the  direction  of  her 
mother.  I  imagine  I  see  thee,  O  holy 
child,  occupied  with  the  little  details  of 
household  duties,  assisting  thy  good  mo- 
ther in  her  work,  and  intent  on  exercising 
those  domestic  cares  thou  wilt  one  day  be- 
stow upon  Jesus  and  St.  Joseph*.  Thou 
art  more  beautiful  and  more  admirable  in 
thy  sweet  simplicity  than  those  rich  and 
proud  girls,  in  their  pretended  grandeur, 
whose  heads  are  bedecked  with  feathers 
and  whose  delicate  hands  touch  only  the 
finest  laces  and  flowers. 

If  we  follow  her  to  Jerusalem,  in  the  tem- 
ple we  find  her  attentive  to  the  lessons  of 
her  teachers;  she  studies  with  the  same 
docility  and  ardor  as  she  had  labored  with 
her  hands.  She  despises  no  work  as  un- 
worthy of  her.  She  never  murmurs  against 
those  who  command  her.  Ah !  she  is  the 
valiant  woman  whom  we  could  not  find 
among  worldly-minded  girls. 

Of  all  her  studies,  that  which  she  pre- 
ferred was  the  study  of  religion.  She 
loved  to  learn  the  history  of  the  benefits 
God  bestowed  upon  His  chosen  people — 
to  know  His  commandments.  His  counsels 
and  ))romises.  It  was  her  delight  to  med- 
itate on  the  maxims  of  His  wisdom  and  to 
sing  the  canticles  of  His  glory.  How  dif- 
ferent was  she  from  those  frivolous  souls 
to  whom  all  study  of  religion  inspires 
nothing  but  weariness  and  disgust ! 

It  is  well  here  to  remember  that  the 
young  Mary's  mind  was  of  a  superior  or- 
der, and  her  judgment  ready  and  mature. 
Her  grand  nature,  preserved  from  original 
sin  and  enlightened  by  living  rays  of  grace, 
felt  nothing  but  contempt  for  low,  mean 
things,  and  by  its  own  nobleness  tended 
to  lofty  thoughts,  elevated  sentiments 
and  sublime  actions.  Her  soul  habitually 
dwelt  in  the  elevated  sphere  of  heavenly 
things,  like  the  eagle  above  the  clouds; 
there  she  was  in  her  element.  But  her  ex- 
treme humility  prevented  her  seeing  the 
heii^ht  of  her  intellitrence.     Far  from  be- 


coming proud  of  her  intellectual  gifts,  as 
many  vain  young  persons  who  think  they 
are  little  wonders  because  they  are  more 
advanced  than  some  half  a  dozen  of  their 
schoolmates,  Mary  hid  her  incontestable 
superiority,  and  contented  herself  with 
offering  her  success  to  God,  from  whom, 
she  knew  and  confessed,  she  received  all 
she  had,  without  any  merit  on  her  part. 
She  saw  only  the  great  obligation  she  was 
under,  to  show  Him  greater  gratitude,  and 
to  be  more  zealous   for  His  glory. 

If  you  would  have  an  idea  of  the  pene- 
tration and  elevation  of  her  spirit,  medi- 
tate on  the  Magnificat,  which  shows  the 
transport  of  her  heart,  and  reveals  to  us 
her  beautiful  soul.  What  an  incompara- 
ble mingling  of  grandeur  and  simplicity, 
of  glory  and  humility !  She  comprehended 
the  whole  plan  of  God;  she  divined  her 
own  exaltation,  and  she  spoke  of  it  with  a 
clearness  and  modesty  that  enraptures  the 
soul.  "Without  doubt  the  Holy  Ghost  in- 
spired her,  but  that  did  not  take  from  her 
the  personal  character  of  her  intellect.  In 
the  Magnificat  you  see  !Mary  such  as  she  is. 
Let  us  imitate  her  in  whatever  is  applica- 
ble to  us. 

INDOLENCK. 

The  parents  of  Laura  are  rich,  and  they 
have  no  other  child.  They  brought  her 
up  with  those  excessive  precautions  that 
spoil  the  best  natural  dispositions,  and 
entail  upon  them  an  endless  series  of  sor- 
rows and  miseries,  if  not  in  this  world,  at 
least  in  the  next. 

Laura  knew  at  an  early  age  that  she  had 
no  need  to  work,  and  that  her  destiny  was 
to  bo  served  by  the  many  servants  who 
were  to  let  her  want  for  nothing.  Her 
past  life,  she  thought,  was  a  guarantee  for 
the  future.  Had  she  ever  been  denied  a 
pleasure,  a  whim,  in  her  father's  house? 
A  little  queen  was  she  at  her  birth  ;  she  had 
always  ruled  the  household,  and  had  be- 
come a  sort  of  idol  that  was  the  centre  of 
all  attention  and  care.  Already  many  flat- 
terers bent  the  knee  before  her,  and  burnt 
a  little  grain  of  incense  at  her  shrine.  She 
was  no  longer  a  simple  mortal! 

When  she  consented  to  enter  a  boarding 


304 


AVE     MARIA 


school  of  her  own  choice,  she  carried 
with  her  the  conviction  that  she  would 
please  her  parents  as  much  by  doing  little 
as  by  making  herself  uncomfortable  try- 
ing to  do  a  great  deal,  and  that  it  was  by 
no  means  necessary  to  study  hard  to  live 
on  her  income.  She  therefore  took  the  easy 
resolution  to  study  little,  and  to  amuse  her- 
self a  great  deal;  to  shun  irksome  studies 
and  to  limit  herself  to  those  that  were 
agreeable  or  by  which  she  might  create  a 
sensation  in  society,  such  as  polished  lan- 
guage, music,  dancing,  and  above  all  a 
thorough  knowledge  of  the  fashions. 

Dame  Nature  seemed  to  be  an  accom- 
plice in  the  young  girl's  indolence  and 
vanity,  for  she  lavished  all  manner  of  ex- 
terior graces  upon  her:  a  tall  and  grace- 
ful figure,  a  beautiful  face,  charming  man- 
ners, with  a  gay,  generous,  and  gushing 
disposition.  Laura  was  loved  by  all,  even 
herteachers,  who  could  not  make  her  study. 

Are  not  such  natural  qualities,  joined  to 
a  brilliant  fortune,  a  formidable  temptation 
for  a  young  girl,  who  dreams  of  all  the 
pleasures  of  the  world,  but  who  never 
thinks  of  eternity?  Assuredly  faith  is  nec- 
essary to  enable  us  to  despise  these  exter- 
nal advantages,  to  avoid  making  them  the 
instruments  of  vainglory,  and  to  dispel 
the  seducing  phantoms  of  a  worldly  life. 
How  many  young  persons,  for  smaller  ad- 
vantages than  Laura  had,  have  lost  the  lit- 
tle religion  and  good  sense  that  they  once 
possessed  ! 

Laura  is  one  of  these  dupes;  she  believes 
she  has  nothing  to  ask  of  heaven  but  per- 
petual youth.  In  the  mean  time  she  takes 
her  ease  as  much  as  she  possibly  can.  She 
will  be  a  great  dunce,  but  she  cares  little 
for  that,  provided  it  is  not  too  generally 
known.  When  she  leaves  school,  she  will 
know  nothing  of  grammar — will  not  be 
able  even  to  spell;  she  will  be  ignorant  of 
the  history  of  her  own  country,  and  will 
know  as  much  about  geography  as  a  Chi- 
nese market-woman.  She  will  be  unable 
to  do  the  least  sum  in  arithmetic  and  will 
stick  fast  among  the  columns  of  the  multi- 
plication table,  which  she  can  never  re- 
member.   Don't  talk  to  her  of  natural  his-  | 


tory,  and  chemistry;  her  cook  knows  more 
about  them  than  she  does.  It  would  be 
useless  to  ask  her  to  make  soup,  or  to  pre- 
pare a  stew.  Oh  fie  1  such  a  fine  young 
lady!  One  knows  enough  when  one  is 
rich  and  beautiful! 

To  conclude,  what  can  she  do?  She 
can  eat,  drink,  chatter,  and  sleep.  She 
can  also  comb  and  fix  up  her  hair,  make 
her  shoes  fit  nice ;  be  helped  at  table ; 
be  taken  out  riding;  enter  the  drawing 
room  with  grace,  and  then  dance,  talk, 
laugh,  and  amuse  herself  the  greater  part 
of  the  night;  and  finally  return  at  a  late 
hour  to  be  disrobed  and  put  to  sleep  I 
What  a  useful  creature!  What  sei-vices 
she.  renders  to  society !  How  well  she 
corresponds  to  thedesignsof  her  Creator! 

Take  away  her  hair-dresser,  her  dress- 
makers, her  servants,  her  cook,  her  car- 
riage, and  she  will  not  be  able  to  dress, 
nor  to  make  a  call,  nor  to  eat ;  she  would 
be  no  longer  able  to  live ;  she  would  be 
an  object  of  ridicule  or  of  pity.  If  she 
were  to  lose  her  fortune,  she  would  die  of 
sorrow  and  chagrin. 

As  for  you,  dear  readers,  who  wish  to 
preserve  your  own  worth,  your  good  sense, 
your  dignity  as  a  creature  of  God,  your  own 
esteem,  your  health,  and  your  strength,  and 
then  take  along  with  you  some  little  merit 
to  the  next  world  to  enjoy  it  with  the 
saints,  have  a  perfect  horror  for  such  an 
idle  and  sensual  life,  and  do  not  disdain 
to  work  as  the  Blessed  Virgin  did  during 
her  whole  life. 


"Virtues,  be  they  ever  so  great  and 
excellent,  are  nothing  without  charity, — 
not  even  the  faith  that  moves  mountains 
or  fathoms  mysteries ;  the  gift  of  prophecy, 
or  the  tongues  of  angels  and  men,  the  giv- 
ing in  alms  all  that  one  may  possess,  or 
even  a  martyrdom  by  fire — all  these  things 
are  nothing  without  charity.  Whoever 
liveth  not  in  charity  is  in  death :  and  what- 
ever deeds  are  preformed,  not  inspired  by 
charity,  no  matter  how  seemingly  good, 
are  dead  work,  and  of  no  merit  for  etern  ity . " 
—St.  F.  de  Sales. 


AVE   MARIA. 

^  Catholic  journal,  AmUA  U  the  ^mm  d  the  glejsjseil  ilrgiw. 


VoL  V. 


lOTBE  DAME.  INDIAHA,   MAT  15,  1869. 


Ho.  20. 


i 


BLOSSOMS  OF  FAITH  AND  LOVE; 

—  OR, — 

Bouquets  for  every  Season. 
VII.— WHITSUNTIDE. 

"  Although  the  three  adorable  Persons 
of  the  Blessed  Trinity  have  an  equal  share 
in  sanctifying  our  souls,  yet  our  spiritual 
regenei'ation  and  all  the  graces  we  receive 
from  heaven  are  particularly  attributed  to 
the  Holy  Ghost;  because,  as  these  favors 
are  an  eifect  of  God's  love  for  us,  He  who 
is  the  Love  of  the  Father  and  of  the  Son 
is  considered  the  author  of  them.  It  is 
incredible,  the  good  this  Divine  Spirit  pro- 
duces in  those  souls  which  do  not  oppose 
His  inspirations.  What  an  abundance  of 
light  and  strength  would  He  not  commu- 
nicate to  us,  by  His  seven  gifts.  His  fruits 
and  His  beatitudes,  if  with  docility  and 
attention  we  would  listen  to  Him !" 

This  instruction  is  quoted  from  an  old 
prayer-book  in  which,  among  the  "  devo- 
tions for  every  day  in  the  week,"  Monday 
was  set  apart  for  paying  special  homage 
to  the  Third  Person  of  the  Holy  Trinity. 
In  most  manuals  of  prayer  published  in 
recent  times,  this  custom  is  changed,  and 
Monday  is  assigned  to  prayers  for  the 
dead. 

A  few  years  since,  a  zealous  priest,  in 
proposing  to  his  congregation  to  make  a 
novena  in  preparation  for  Whitsunday, 
alluded  to  the  general  falling-off  in  the 
particular  devotions  formerly  offered  to 
the  Holy  Spirit,  as  being  the  principal 
cause   of    that    lamentable    lukewarraness 


now  so  generally  witnessed.  He  spoke 
forcibly  of  the  mistake  of  those  who  limit 
their  exercises  of  piety  to  the  more  or  less 
fervent  reception  of  the  Blessed  Eucharist, 
and  still  wonder  that  they  are  so  powerless 
in  sudden  or  great  temptations,  so  cold 
and  languid  in  the  service  of  God;  but  if 
the  Holy  Communion  was  intended  to 
impart  all  the  light  and  grace  and  strength 
needed  for  the  hard  warfare  which  every 
Christiaji  must  wage  or  relinquish  his 
hopes  of  salvation,  would  our  Saviour, 
after  having  just  imparted  this  divine 
food  to  the  apostles,  promise  them  another 
Comforter  whom  the  Father  would  send 
in  His  name?  You  may  say,  continued 
the  pastor,  we  have  all  received  the  Holy 
Ghost  in  Confirmation.  That  is  true ;  but 
how  many  of  us  were  so  well  prepared  as 
to  receive  Him  in  the  plenitude  of  His 
gifts  and  fruits  ?  how  many  h.ave  preserved 
the  grace  of  Confirmation,  and  refrained 
from  grieving  the  Spirit  of  God  by  subse- 
quent sins?  how  many,  when  years  have 
gone  by,  remember,  even  once  a  year,  at 
Whitsuntide,  the  gift  they  received  in 
childhood,  renew  their  thanks  to  the 
Heavenly  Spirit,  confess  and  lament  their 
infidelity  to  the  grace  then  bestowed,  and 
supplicate  Him  earnestly,  humbly  and  con- 
fidently to  grant  them  a  renewal  and  in- 
crease of  all  He  then  bestowed,  that  they 
may  be  more  faithful  for  the  time  to  come? 
How  many  do  this  on  Whitsunday,  or 
when  they  see  others  confirmed, — how 
many  of  us? — rather,  alas !  how  few  I  And 
yet  we  wonder  why  there  are  nojsL^o  few 
strong  and  perfect  Christian 

Such  was  the  substancef  aa^ell  ^^f^ 
be  recollected,  of  a  lectwe /that 
deep   impression  on   tho^  "who  t^&rdjKJ 


.w  -^ 


^ 


306 


AVE      MA  R  I  A  . 


and  excited  an  earnest  wish  for  the  fulfil- 
ment of  the  pastor's  closing  prayer,  that 
devotion  to  the  Holy  Spirit — humble, 
ardent,  persevering  devotion — may  soon 
become  familiar  to  every  child  of  the 
Church,  instead  of  being  considered,  as  is 
too  generally  the  case,  a  privilege  reserved 
for  some  chosen  souls. 

We  are  sure  every  reader  of  the  Avk 
Maria  will  be  delighted  as  well  as  edified 
with  the  following  picture  from  the  pen 
of  a  French  Jesuit  (Father  Nampon),  whose 
splendid  doctrinal  work  will  soon  be  given 
to  the  American  Church : 

"  To  these  names,  so  precious,  of  Father 
and  Son,  there  is  joined  a  third,  yet  more 
delightful  to  him  who  is  able  to  under- 
stand it:  God  calls  Himself  the  Holy 
Spirit.  The  Holy  Spirit,  that  is  God  who 
is  charity ;  the  substantial  love  of  the 
Father  and  the  Son ;  the  dove,  with  its 
simplicity,  its  candor,  its  chaste  love, 
hovering  over  the  head  of  Jesus ;  the  burn- 
ing Jire  shed  forth  upon  the  apostles,  des- 
tined to  inflame  the  whole  world;  the 
spiritual  anointing,  which  insinuates  itself 
into  our  hearts,  fixes  itself  there,  and  draws 
them  with  heavenly  sweetness  to  love  God 
for  Himself  and  their  neighbor  for  God ; 
that  fountain  of  living  water,  that  has 
come  down  from  heaven  into  our  hearts  to 
cleanse  and  to  refresh  them,  to  make  them 
fruitful,  to  inebriate  them  with  ineffable 
delights,  and  then  to  spring  up  even  to 
heaven.  This  is  ihQ  Paraclete  or  i\\Q  Com- 
forter, who  diffuses  in  us  that  peace  of 
God  which  surpasses  all  understanding; 
who  assures  us  by  His  inward  testimony 
that  Christ  is  the  truth,  and  that  we  our- 
selves are  the  sons  of  God ;  this  is  the 
gift  of  the  Most  High,  for  He  is  given  to 
us  with  ihe  graye  that  makes  us  just;  and 
He  dwells  in  us  personally,  awakening  in 
our  hearts  unspeakable  groanings  towards 
Heaven,  and  crying,  like  little  children  to 
their  father,  ^  Abba,  Pater  P  This  is  the 
Spirif  of  sevenfold  gifts  producing  in  us 
works  that  are  meritorious  of  a  blessed 
eternity ;  assuring  the  benefit  of  a  glorious 
resurrection  to  our  bodies  in  which  He 
dwells;     penetrating   our  whole  soul,  to 


enlighten,  elevate,  inflame  it,  to  make  it 
one  spirit,  one  heart  with  God." 

I. — Pious  Exsbcises  fob  Whitsitntidk. 

The  following  prayers  are  abridged  from 
an  authorized  collection: 

NOVEXA    BEFORE    TUB    FESTIVAL. 

Let  us  prostrate  ourselves  before  the 
majesty  of  the  Most  Holy  Trinity,  and, 
uniting  our  dispositions  with  those  of  our 
Blessed  Lady  and  the  holy  apostles  in  the 
upper  room  at  Jerusalem,  let  us  say  seven 
times  the  Our  Father  and  Hail  Mary,  to 
obtain,  by  the  merits  of  Jesus  ascended, 
the  seven  gifts  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  {Repeat 
the  Our  Father  and  Hail  Mary  seven 
times.) 

O  Most  Holy  Spirit,  the  Paraclete,  we 
adore  Thee  with  all  humility;  and  with 
the  most  lively  affections  of  our  hearts  we 
beseech  Thee  to  assist  us  in  this  Thy 
novena,  that  we  may  rightly  prepare  our- 
selves to  receive  Thy  heavenly  gifts.  We 
cannot,  O  divine  Spirit,  receive  Thee 
without  Thine  own  aid  assisting  us. 
Without  Thee  we  cannot  please  Thee. 
Do  Thou  then,  who  didst  prepare  the 
heart  of  Mary  to  receive  the  Word  Incar- 
nate, vouchsafe  so  to  dispose  our  hearts 
that  we  may  happily  conceive  the  blessed 
flames  of  Thy  love.     Amen. 

O  sweetest  and  most  dear  Mother  Mary, 
behold  us  at  thy  feet,  and  having  kissed 
them  a  thousand  times  with  the  lips  of 
our  hearts,  we  humbly  implore  of  thee  a 
favor  more  needful  for  us  than  all  else. 
Since  thou  art  the  spouse  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  the  dispenser  of  His  treasures,  dis- 
pose, we  beseech  thee,  our  cold  hearts  for 
the  approaching  solemnity  of  Pentecost. 
Obtain  for  us,  O  benignant  Mother,  con- 
trition for  our  sins ;  so  that,  although  we 
cannot  receive  the  Holy  Spirit,  as  innocent 
as  thyself,  yet  may  we  receive  Him  as 
true  penitents,  together  with  those  Gentile 
penitents  who  received  Him  in  the  upper 
room.     Amen. 

May  the  blessings  of  almighty  God,  the 
Father,  Son  and  Holy  Ghost,  descend  upon 
us,  and  abide  with  us  forever.     Amen. 


AVE      MARIA. 


807 


II. — Ox   TUB   FkAST   AXD   during  THB 

Octave. 

O  Holy  Spirit,  the  Paraclete,  we  adore 
Thee  as  true  God  together  with  the  Father 
and  the  Son.  We  bless  and  praise  and 
thank  Thee  through  the  sweetest  Heart  of 
Jesus,  whom  Thou  hast  given  us,  for  all 
the  good  which  Thou  hast  done  and  art 
daily  doing  to  the  world.  Thou  art  the 
giver  of  all  supernatural  gifts,  and  Thou 
didst  fill  with  immense  graces  the  soul 
of  Mary,  the  glorious  Mother  of  God. 
Through  her  intercession  we  beseech  Thee 
to  visit  us  with  Thy  grace  and  with  Thy 
love,  and  may  the  gift  of  Thy  holy  fear 
restrain  us  from  relapsing  into  those  sins 
for  which  we  now  implore  Thy  pardon 
with  all  sincerity  and  contrition.     Amen. 

We  beseech  Thee,  O  Lord,  that  the 
Paraclete,  who  proceedeth  from  Thee,  may 
enlighten  our  minds,  and,  according  to 
the  promise  of  Thy  Son,  may  lead  us 
into  all  truth ;  through  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.     Amen. 

III. — St.   Gertrude's  Preparation   for 
Pentecost. 

"  If  you  desire  to  receive  the  Holy 
Ghost,"  replied  our  Lord  to  St.  Gertrude, 
when  she  very  earnestly  besought  Him  for 
this  grace,  "you  must  touch  My  side  and 
My  hands,  like  My  disciples  !" 

"  By  this  she  understood  that  he  who 
desires  to  receive  the  Holy  Spirit,  must 
first  touch  the  side  of  our  Lord — that  is, 
he  must  acknowledge  how  much  the  Di- 
vine Heart  has  loved  us  in  having  predes- 
tinated us  from  eternity  to  be  His  children 
and  heirs  of  His  kingdom,  and  in  pouring 
forth  such  benefits  upon  us  daily,  notwith- 
standing our  ingratitude.  That  he  must 
also  touch  the  hands  of  our  Lord, — that 
is,  reflect  with  gratitude  on  all  His  labors 
for  us  during  the  thrce-and-thirty  years  of 
His  mortal  life,  and  on  His  passion  and 
death,  offering  His  Heart  to  God,  in  union 
with  the  love  with  which  He  said,  *  As  the 
Father  hath  sent  Me,  I  also  send  you,'* 


to  fulfil  His  good  pleasure  in  all  things; 
for  although  men  should  desire  and  wish 
nothing  but  the  good  pleasure  of  God, 
they  should  seek  even  more  ardently  to  do 
and  to  suffer  what  He  wills — for  he  who 
acts  thus  cannot  fail  to  receive  the  Holy 
Spirit,  even  as  the  disciples  on  whom  the 
Son  of  God  breathed." 

On  the  Sunday  after  Ascension  Thurs- 
day, the  Saint  besought  our  Lord,  at  Com- 
munion, to  prepare  her  to  receive  these 
four  virtues:  purity  of  heart,  humility, 
tranquillity,  and  concord.  She  perceived, 
during  a  wonderful  vision,  that  they  were 
imparted  to  her;  and  she  learned  that 
whoever  prays  devoutly  to  God  for  the 
same  virtues  in  order  to  prepare  a  dwell- 
ing for  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  tries  to  ad- 
vance in  them  every  day  by  practising 
them  faithfully,  will  receive  them.  On 
the  vigil  of  Pentecost  she  offered  this 
prayer: 

"  Alas,  my  Lord  !  unworthy  sinner  that 
I  am,  I  confess  with  grief,  that  through 
my  frailty  I  have  offended  in  many  ways 
against  Thy  omnipotence,  and  that  my 
ignorance  and  malice  have  often  offended 
against  Thy  wisdom  and  goodness.  There- 
fore, O  Father  of  mercies,  have  mercy  on 
me,  and  give  me  strength  from  Thy 
strength  to  resist  all  that  is  contrary  to 
Thy  will ;  give  me  grace  from  Thy  incon- 
ceivable wisdom  to  avoid  all  that  may 
offend  Thy  pure  eyes,  and  enable  me  to 
adhere  faithfully  to  Thee  by  Thy  super- 
abundant mercy,  so  that  I  may  never  de- 
part from  Thy  will  in  the  very  least  degree." 

At  Mass,  during  Whitsuntide,  she  offered 
the  Sacred  Host  at  the  time  of  the  Ele- 
vation in  s.itisfaction  for  her  deficiencies 
in  acquiring  spiritual  goods,  and  she  per- 
ceived that  this  was  accepted  even  as  she 
desired.  Mart. 


*  8t  John,  XX,  21. 


When  keenly  insulted  by  a  certain  in- 
dividual, St.  Francis  of  Sales  replied,  with 
an  indescribable  sweetness  :  "  Should  you 
even  pluck  out  one  of  my  eyes,  I  would 
nevertheless  look  upon  you  with  utmost 
affection  with  the  other." 


308 


AVE      MARIA 


THE  ROMAN  CATACOMBS, 
And  their  Connection  with  Catholic  Dogma. 


FBOM  TUB  OBBMAir  OP  REV.  M.  WOLTEB,  BT  BEY. 
J.  A.  BEBQBATH. 

"  Sed  tu  qui  legis,  ora  pro  me  et  (h)abeas  Domi- 
num  protectorcm." — Catacombs  qf  Pontianu*. 

VII. 

(continued.) 

Thus  much  concerning  the  remarkable 
tomb  in  question.  It  would  be  too  tedious 
an  undertaking  were  wo  to  carry  our  readers 
in  like  manner  through  all  the  other  cem- 
eteries that  contain  pictures  of  the  Madon- 
na. We  therefore  repeat  once  more  our 
previous  assertion,  that  all  of  these  paint- 
ings either  represent  Mary  as  clothed  with 
the  honors  of  her  divine  maternity  ;  or  else 
bring  her  before  us  in  the  cai)acity  of  a 
most  powerful  intercessor. 

In  the  first  class  of  these  paintings  we 
very  frequently  meet  with  the  figures  of 
the  wise  men  from  the  East^  whose  tradi- 
tional number  (three)  obtains  a  remarkable 
corroboration  from  these  works  of  art. 
The  juxtaposition  of  these  men  with  the 
Mother  and  Child  was  naturally  destined 
to  afiect  the  hearts  of  those  early  Chris- 
tians in  the  same  proportion  as  they  real- 
ized more  or  less  vividly  the  calling  of  the 
Gentiles  to  the  true  faith,  and  brought  be- 
fore their  eyes  the  authors  of  this  calling, 
who  were  none  other  than  Jesus  and  Mary. 

The  second  class  of  paintings  is  very 
often  found  to  be  made  all  the  more  inter- 
esting and  significant,  by  the  ingenious  in- 
troduction of  typical  allusions.  Thus  in 
the  catacombs  of  SS.  Peter  and  Marcelin 
the  heavenly  mediatrix,  is  accompanied  by 
two  men  who  support  her  arms  raised  in 
prayer,  just  as  Aaron  and  Hur  in  times  of 
old  supported  the  arms  of  Moses  while  he 
was  praying  on  Mount  Horeb.  Mary — 
si(ch  is  the  evident  meaning  of  this  beau- 
tiful comparison — ceaselessly  raises  her 
arms  in  prayer  on  God's  holy  mountain  in 
behalf  of  the  battling  children  of  Israel ; 
and,  since  she  intercedes  for  thcra,  it  is  im- 
possible  that  they  should   not  YAnquish 


Amalcc,  the  type  of  persecuting  heathen- 
dom. Akin  to  this  painting  there  is  an- 
other representation  engraven  on  gold- 
leaf,  which  represents  Peter  and  Paul,  the 
princes  of  the  apostles,  as  supporting  Jfary'* 
arms,  while  the  latter  is  making  interces- 
sion for  the  Church  of  Rome.  As  it  is  al- 
ready universally  known  and  appreciated, 
we  shall  not  mention  here  that  celebrated 
painting  of  the  praying  Madonna  with  the 
Child  which  may  be  seen  in  the  so-called 
"  Chapel  of  Mary  "  in  the  cemetery  of  St. 
Agnes.  We  cannot,  however,  pass  over 
in  silence  a  very  important  picture  that 
serves  to  decorate  an  ancient  Christian 
sarcophagus.  To  the  left,  towards  the  top, 
in  this  picture,  there  sits  God  the  Father 
on  His  throne ;  the  Son  is  ushering  into 
His  presence  our  first  parents,  who  have 
just  been  created ;  while  the  Holy  Ghost, 
the  third  of  the  three  Divine  Persons, — each 
of  whom  is  represented  as  a  venerable  old 
man,  and  between  whom  there  is  a  perfect 
resemblance, — leans  with  His  hand  upon 
the  back  of  the  throne.  In  the  correspond- 
ing lower  field  of  the  same  picture,  Mary, 
the  Mother  of  God^  occupies  a  similar 
throne  in  all  respects,  only  that  hers  is 
not  surmounted  by  an  overhanging  canopy 
as  is  that  of  God  the  Father.  Now  on  this 
throne  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  God  the 
Holy  Ghost,  of  whom  Mary  conceived,  is 
again  seen  leaning,  as  in  the  former  case ; 
while  the  Son  of  God,  here  depicted  as  a 
child,  rests  upon  Mary's  lap  and  receives  the 
presents  of  the  three  Magi,  who  are  clearly 
introduced  as  the  representatives  of  the 
new  creation.  Although  unwilling  to  do 
so,  we  must  forego  the  pleasure  of  here 
dwelling  longer  and  more  in  detail  on  the 
manifold  and  deep  significance  of  the  scene 
thus  artistically  brought  before  us  in  this 
picture. 

Our  attention  is  now  called  to  another 
class  of  memorial  relics  that  are  of  par- 
ticular importance  in  establishing  the  fact 
of  Mary's  veneration  in  the  early  Church. 
We  mean  the  gold-enamelled  drinking 
glasses,  dating  from  the  third  and  fourth 
centuries.  About  400  specimens  or  frag- 
ments of  such  glasses  or  cups  have  beon 


AVE      MARIA. 


309 


hitherto  dag  up  from  among  the  accumu- 
lated rubbish  of  the  catacombs.  Some  of 
these  glasses  or  cups  were  quite  small,  the 
lower  extremity  being  of  a  conical  or  oval 
form,  while  others  again  were  of  a  size  suf- 
ficient to  justify  the  moulders  or  blowers 
in  supplying  them  with  handles  or  catches. 
Now  it  was  on  the  bottom  of  these  cups  or 
glasses — for  this,  being  the  most  solid  and 
substantial,  is  therefore  the  only  part  that 
has  been  transmitted  to  us — that  the  Chris- 
tian artist  attached  a  gold-leaf  on  which 
with  his  pencil  he  engraved  his  inscription, 
symbol,  biblical  scene  or  figure,  after  which 
he  protected  the  whole  by  superadding 
a  thin  coating  of  glass.  These  remarkable 
cups  were  used  at  the  love-feasts  that  were 
usually  instituted  at  baptisms,  marriages 
and  funerals,  but  more  particularly  on  the 
public  festivals  of  the  saints,  and  hence 
their  significance  in  this  connection.  A 
remarkably  large  number  of  these  glasses 
are  ornamented  with  a  picture  ofiheJilessed 
Virgijiy  in  which  she  is  generally  represent- 
ed as  interceding  for  some  one,  while  the 
picture  itself  is  inscribed  merely  with  her 
name:  MARIA.  In  one  or  two  instances 
we  find  the  nimbus,  or  glory,  crowning  the 
Queen  of  heaven.  This  distinction  was  at 
first  only  awarded  to  Christ;  in  the  third 
century,  however,  it  began  to  be  awarded 
also  to  the  Blessed  Virgin,  while  it  was 
not  until  the  fifth  and  sixth  century  that 
the  other  saints  and  angels  were  honored 
in  like  manner.  From  this  our  readers 
may  judge  what  clear  light  is  thrown  by 
these  glasses  on  the  privileged  position  of 
Mary  as  the  Mother  of  God  and  the  Queen 
of  angels  and  saints,  no  less  than  on  the 
veneration  and  the  number  of  feasts  that 
were  set  aside  in  her  honor  by  the  primi- 
tive Church. 

Let  us  now  conclude  our  Mariologic  in- 
vestigations by  giving  the  description  of 
a  glass,  the  email  of  which,  besides  giving 
us  a  clear  idea  of  Mary's  position,  intro- 
duces us  also  into  the  hallowed  obscu- 
rity of  ancient  Christian  symbolism.  The 
centre  of  the  bottom  of  this  glass,  lined  as 
it  is  with  gold-leaf,  is  occupied  by  the  fig- 
ures of  those  princes  of  the  apostles,  SS. 


Peter  and  Paul,  while  round  about  them 
the  following  scenes  are  introduced  and 
represented.  First  of  all  there  appears 
the  prophet  of  Mary, — Isaias, — whom  we 
recognize  at  once  by  the  figure  of  the  "  sun" 
and  the  "  large  scroll  "  in  which  he  is  di- 
rected to  record  the  mysterious  birth 
of  Emmanuel.*  In  the  spirit  of  proph- 
ecy he  beholds  the  Blessed  Virgin,  and 
points  to  her,  whom  we  see  between 
two  olive  trees  extending  her  arms  in 
prayer.  These  olive  trees  are  the  em- 
blems of  the  two  Testaments,  that  remain 
always  green,  t.  «.,  imperishable.  Next  to 
the  figure  of  Mary  there  is  a  mystical  rep- 
resentation of  the  crucifixion  of  Christ. 
The  Saviour  is  represented  by  the  above- 
named  prophet  Isaias  who,  divested  of  his 
attire  and  standing  withhisarms  extended 
in  the  form  of  a  cross,  is  being  sawn  in 
twain  by  two  men.  Tertullian  explains  to 
us  how  the  prophet  came  to  be  looked  upon 
as  a  figure  of  Christ,  when  he  says:  "  Isaias 
died  on  the  cross  while  and  because  he 
preached  Christ."  In  addition  to  these 
groups  there  are  yet  others,  partly  explan- 
atory and  partly  supplementary,  that  com- 
plete the  painting  under  consideration. 
In  all  of  these  the  Saviour  constitutes  the 
principal  figure.  In  one  place  He  is  S6en 
erecting  a  staff  for  the  brazen  serpent,  which 
lies  at  His  feet ;  in  another  place,  after  the 
example  of  Moses  and  to  symbolize  the 
gift  of  faith.  He  causes  the  water  of  His 
doctrines  to  flow  from  the  living  rock; 
while  in  a  third,  by  touching  them  with 
His  rod,  he  rescues  from  a  fiery  furnace  the 
three  youths,  who  are  a  figure  and  type  of 
the  resurrection.  These  three  groups  rep- 
resent pictorially  the  text  of  St.  John 
which  may  be  found  in  chap,  iii,  v.  14-16, 
while  the  whole  picture  represents  the  my«- 
tery  of  the  redemption  as  it  was  predicted 
by  Isaias,  mediated  by  Mary,  accomplished 
by  Christ,  and  finally  preached  by  the  chiefs 
of  the  apostles  and  their  successors  in  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church, 
nil. 
When  wo  look  over  the  oolleotion  of 


•  Is.  vH,  8 ;  and  Ix. 


310 


AVE      MARIA 


early  Christian  paintings  of  the  Madonna, 
we  are  justly  struck  with  the  great  variety 
of  ideas  or  motives  which,  even  in  those 
early  dayf^*,  the  Blesed  Virgin  Mary  seems 
to  have  inspired  into  the  hearts  of  those 
primitive  artists.  But  of  far  greater  im- 
portance to  us  is  the  conclusion  which  we 
are  necessarily  bound  to  draw  from  these 
premises  regarding  the  position  occupied 
by  Mary  in  the  primitive  Church,  and  the 
veneration  that  was  evidently  awarded  to 
her  from  the  very  beginning  of  Christianity . 
If  in  no  position  during  Ilis  earth-life, 
and  least  of  all  in  His  youth,  we  can  find 
the  Son  without  the  Mother^  how  is  it 
possible  that  this  same  Mother  should  not 
have  borne  also  an  intimate  relationship 
to  the  infant  Church  of  Christ?  And  if 
the  morning  star  never  shines  brighter  and 
more  hopefully  than  when  the  dawning 
day  is  battling  strenuously  with  the  sha- 
dows of  night,  why  should  not  also  the «<ar 
of  Mary ^  with  its  mild  eiFulgence,  glitter 
in  the  dawning  day  of  Christianity,  and  thus 
transfigure  the  tears  and  blood  which  the 
early  Church  was  called  upon  to  shed  in 
its  efforts  to  subdue  the  fearful  night  of 
of  heathen  error?  We  have  already  seen, 
in  a  measure,  that  next  to  the  Mother  of 
Jestta  His  foster-father  St.  Joseph  also  was 
venerated  in  a  most  affectionate  manner. 
In  this  connection  we  shall  mention  only 
a  single  slab  of  marble,  on  which,  next  to 
the  inscription  which  reads:  "  Severa,  live 
thou  in  God,"  we  find  a  representation 
of  the  Holy  Family^  the  chief  feature  of 
which  consists  in  the  fact  that  St.  Joseph 
is  seen  extending  his  right  hand  over  the 
Mother  and  Child.  Of  great  importance 
in  this  connection  are  also  the  testimo- 
nies establishing  the  veneration  at  that 
early  day  of  the  princes  of  the  apostles  and 
of  other  celebrated  martyrs.  Thus,  for 
instance,  we  find  over  the  bust  of  St.  Peter 
the  following  superscription:  "  Peter,  be 
thou  our  protector  f"*  In  most  cases  the 
martyrs  are  represented  with  a  crown  on 
their  heads,  or  near  them,  while  in  some 
instances  our  Saviour  Himself  is  depicted 
in  the  act  of  decorating  them  with  this 
mark  of  their  fidelity — a  distinction  which 


was  afterwards  symbolized  by  the  intro- 
duction of  the  nimbus,  and  by  which  the 
early  Christians  sought  to  express  the  idea 
that  those  who  were  thus  honored,  in  con- 
sequence of  their  eminent  virtues,  held  a 
high  position  not  only  in  heaven  but  also 
in  the  Church  of  God  on  earth. 

Ere  closing  this  paragraph  we  shall  yet 
give  three  very  remarkable  inscriptions: 
"Here  I  rest,  Mandrosa  by  name;  .... 
faithfully  in  Christ  I  observed  His  com- 
mandments, and  vfii^  piously  devoted  to  the 
services  of  the  martyrs.'''  MARTYRVM 
OBSEQVIIS  DEVOTA.  "Here  resteth 
Dionysius,  an  innocent  child,  among  the 
Saints;  may  you  (the  Saints)  be  mindful 
of  us  in  your  holy  prayers  /"  "  Prectatus 
resteth  in  peace ;  he  lived  9  years  .... 
a  nurseling  of  God,  of  Christ,  and  of  the 
Saints.''  NVTRICATVS  DEO  CHRIS- 
TO  MARTVRIBVS.  And  on  the  family 
tomb  of  a  certain  Bassus  we  read:  "They 
werepiously  devoted  to  God  and  the  Saints." 
DEO   SANCTISQVE  DEVOTI. 

[to  be  continubd.] 


SAINT  LTDIA, 
Patroness  of  the  Siek  Room. 


[concluded.] 

This  good  priest  did  her  another  great 
service,  by  stirring  up  in  her  heart  a  tender 
love  to  Jesus  in  the  Holy  Sacrament. 
Sometimes  he  found  her  heart  dry  and 
weary,  when  he  came  to  give  her  commu- 
nion; then  he  spoke  with  such  sweetness 
of  the  love  of  Jesus  in  that  divine  mystery, 
and  of  His  never-failing  generosity  which 
would  certainly  one  day  repay  her  for  all 
her  sufferings,  that  Lydia's  heart  was 
wounded  with  love  to  her  dear  Lord ;  she 
wept  to  think  how  blind  she  had  been, 
and  how  weak,  when  she  used  to  refuse 
all  comfort,  even  from  her  mother.  She 
could  iLow  only  rejoice  and  weep  for  very 
tenderness.  * 

This  devoton  to  Jesus  in  His  Passion 
and  in  His  Sacramental  Presence  became 


AVE       MARIA. 


311 


a  trcasnro  of  comfort  and 'strength  to  her 
for  eight  years,  during  which  she  had 
none  of  the  snpcrnatural  consolations 
which  afterwards  were  granted  her. 

Poor  thing  !  how  she  suffered  all  that 
time.  It  is  only  in  a  very  general  way 
that  it  can  bo  described  here.  For  the 
first  nineteen  years  of  her  illness  she 
lived  on  an  incredible  small  quantity  of 
food;  sometimes  a  slice  of  a  roasted  ap- 
ple, or  a  morsel  of  bread  soaked  in  milk, 
lasted  her  a  whole  day  ;  sometimes  only  a 
mouthful  of  beer  or  of  sweet  milk.  Later 
in  her  illness  even  this  was  too  much  for 
her  weakness ;  her  whole  support  was  then 
reduced  to  a  minute  quantity  of  pure  wine, 
which  lasted  her  for  a  week,  and  even 
this  had  to  be  mixed  with  water. 

From  1414  she  could  neither  turn  nor 
move,  but  lay  constantly  on  her  back  till 
her  death.  Her  head  and  left  shoulder 
and  arm  were  the  only  parts  of  her  body 
she  had  any  power  over.  Blood  frequently 
streamed  from  her  mouth,  nostrils  and 
ears.  For  seven  years  she  labored  under 
fever,  alternately  shivering  and  burning. 
For  the  last  nineteen  years  of  her  trial  she 
suffered  from  dropsy,  scarcely  eating,  drink- 
ing, or  sleeping.  Headache  and  tooth- 
ache were  among  her  lesser  ailments,  but 
much  aggravated  the  others.  Many  eminent 
physicians  from  all  parts  of  the  country 
went  to  see  her,  as  the  fame  of  her  singu- 
lar case  was  widely  spread ;  but  they 
could  do  nothing  for  her,  and  were  obliged 
to  acknowledge  the  finger  of  God.  Night 
and  day  bring  some  change  to  an  oi'dinary 
sickroom;  abeam  of  sunshine  now  and 
then  enli\-en8  its  sadness.  But  poor 
Lydia  lay  in  darkness;  one  of  her  eyes 
was  quite  blind,  and  the  other  so  weak  that 
she  could  not  bear  the  least  light.  When 
it  was  necessary  to  admit  ever  so  little,  as 
for  Mass  in  her  room,  or  even  when  the 
curtains  of  her  bed  were  opened,  her  eyes 
always  bled  profusely.  This  terrible  com- 
plication of  diseases  she  bore  for  the  love 
Jesus  crucified.  Indeed  there  was  hardly 
any  disease  known  at  that  day  which  she 
did  not  suffer  from. 

Meanwhile,  her    supernatural    consola- 


tions abounded  as  her  sufferings  and  pri- 
vations of  earthly  comfort  increased.  She 
was  sometimes  rapt  to  paradise^some- 
timus  to  purgatory,  to  see  and  suffer  with 
the  souls  detained  there,  and  thus  to  do 
penance  for  those  who  needed  her  help. 
She  was  sometimes  rapt  or  carried  away 
to  various  places  of  the  world:  to  the 
Holy  Land,  to  Rome,  and  to  many  other 
sacred  spots,  such  as  monasteries  and 
churches,  where  she  venerated  the  relics 
of  the  saints  preserved  in  them. 

This  happened  almost  every  night  for 
twenty-four  years,  with  sometimes  an  oc- 
casional inten'al.  She  visited  in  this 
manner  many  religious  houses,  and  made 
acquaintance  with  many  holy  persons  in 
them  whom  she  had  never  seen  with  her 
bodily  eyes ;  she  even  knew  them  by  name, 
and  was  able  to  tell  others  what  God  had 
done  for  them. 

Sometimes  Lydia's  angel  carried  her 
through  a  beautiful  country  adorned  with 
roses  and  lilies ;  this  was  generally  after 
she  had  been  conducted  to  the  altar  of 
the  Holy  Virgin  in  the  church  of  Schei- 
dam.  Sometimes  the  couch  on  which  she 
lay  was  raised  fiom  the  floor  of  her  cham- 
ber. During  these  raptures  her  body  lay 
motionless,  as  if  she  were  dead,  and  she 
lost  all  external  consciousness. 

"When  Saint  Paul  was  rapt  to  heaven 
in  a  similar  manner  he  was  unable  to  say 
whether  it  was  in  the  body  or  out  of  the 
body;  but  there  is  reason  to  think  that 
Lydia's  body  was  actually  transported  to 
the  Holy  Land  on  several  occasions  while 
she  was  meditating  on  our  Lord's  pas- 
sion. At  the  beginning  of  those  raptures 
her  sensations  were  at  first  oppressive,  as 
if  she  must  die  ;  but  habit  reconciled  her 
to  them.  She  sometimes  rec«ived  new 
wounds  in  her  body,  from  the  kiss  of  our 
Lord's  cross,  and  other  holy  things  which 
she  saw  and  touched. 

On  several  occasions  Jesus  Christ  Him- 
self entered  her  cell,  with  a  company  of 
heavenly  attendants.  Her  cell,  though 
usually  dark,  oflen  shone  with  a  light 
not  of  this  world.  The  last  year  of  her 
life,   Baldwin,   her  brother's   child,   who 


312 


AVE     MARIA. 


watched  much  beside  her,  was  frequently 
alarmed  by  these  supernatural  occurrences, 
and  would  have  run  away ;  but  she  calmed 
him,  and  bade  him  fear  nothing.  Her 
cell  and  her  body  exhaled  the  most  fra- 
grant odors. 

On  the  18th  of  November,  1428,  she 
was  rapt  to  paradise  ;  and,  after  receiving 
consolation  from  many  of  the  saints,  the 
Holy  Virgin  approached  her,  surrounded 
with  great  glory,  and  accosted  her  with 
indescribable  sweetness.  They  conversed 
together  for  a  long  time,  till  Lydia  must 
return  to  external  consciousness ;  when 
Mary  said  to  her :  "  My  dearest  daughter, 
be  of  good  courage,  and  comfort  your 
heart  in  patient  endurance,  for  you  shall 
receive  wonderful  glory  for  what  you  are 
now  suffering."  Then  she  placed  a  wreath 
on  Lydia's  head,  and  dismissed  her,  bid- 
ing her  give  it  to  her  confessor,  to  place 
on  the  statue  of  the  Holy  Virgin  belong- 
ing to  the  church  of  Scheidam,  to  which 
Lydia  had  been  so  much  devoted  in  her 
early  childhood. 

"When  she  came  to  herself  she  found 
the  wreath  on  her  head,  of  a  blue  color 
and  of  a  very  fragrant  odor.  She  called 
for  her  confessor,  and  gave  him  the  Holy 
Virgin's  message  as  a  sign  that  he  should 
believe  that  the  favors  bestowed  on  Lydia 
were  from  God.  At  that  very  time  the 
statue  was  in  Lydia's  room,  having  been 
placed  there  during  some  repairs  in  the 
church,  to  her  great  joy. 

Lydia  knew  the  time  of  her  death 
long  before  it  arrived.  Three  or  four 
times  a  year  she  had  seen  in  paradise  a 
beautiful  rose-plant ;  at  first  small,  then 
increasing  in  size,  so  that  she  rested  un- 
der it.  Her  angel  guardian  had  assured 
her  that  it  would  reach  maturity  before 
her  death.  She  mentioned  this  to  Walter, 
her  confessor,  and  to  Catherine,  her  at- 
tendant, the  widow  of  Simon  the  barber. 
Catherine  often  asked  her  if  all  the  roses 
had  bloomed  yet;  Lydia  would  answer 
that  many  of  them  had  still  to  bloom. 
Three  months,  however,  before  her  death, 
she  said  that  the  tree  seemed  now  fully 
grown ;  all  its  roses  were  in  full  bloom ; 


and  she  hoped  that  her  time  on  earth  would 
not  be  long. 

During  the  vigil  of  the  Resurrection, 
about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  her 
confessor  visited  her;  she  told  him  that 
she  had  been  divinely  consoled,  yet  that 
severe  sufferings  awaited  her  during  the 
Paschal  festival.  She  had  just  heard  the 
Alleluia  sung  in  heaven,  and  she  hoped 
very  soon  to  sing  the  same  with  the  celes- 
tial inhabitants,  with  greater  joy  and 
consolation.  After  the  festival,  her  suf- 
ferings would  be  lighter.  Thus  she  se- 
cretly pointed  to  the  time  of  her  death. 

On  Easter  Tuesday,  April  14th,  1433, 
her  confessor  again  went  to  see  her,  in  the 
morning ;  she  requested  that  no  one  who 
loved  her  would  visit  her  that  day.  Her 
request  was  complied  with — Baldwin,  her 
brother's  child,  alone  remaining  with  her, 
to  wait  upon  her.  From  seven  o'clock  in 
the  morning  till  four  in  the  afternoon  her 
sufferings  were  very  great.  For  four  or 
five  years  she  had  asked  her  Lord  that 
when  her  time  came  she  might  die  alone, 
with  Himself,  and  that  He  would  increase 
her  sufferings  and  shorten  her  days.  About 
the  hour  of  vespers,  on  Faster  Tuesday, 
she  said  to  little  Baldwin:  "My  dearest 
child,  I  wish  my  Master  knew  how  ill  I 
am."  The  child  concluded  that  she  want- 
ed her  confessor,  and  ran  to  fetch  him ;  in 
a  very  few  minutes,  after  being  told,  he 
was  at  her  bedside,  but  she  had  departed. 
Her  age  was  fifty-two ;  the  thirty-ninth 
year  of  her  tedious  illness  had  lately 
begun.  She  had  particularly  requested 
that  after  her  death  her  body  might  not 
long  remain  unburied.  It  was  left  in  the 
straw,  however,  just  as  she  had  lain  in  life, 
till  the  morning  after  her  death,  at  the  in- 
stance of  the  authorities  of  Scheidam.  It 
was  then  prepared  for  burial,  and  placed  in 
a  wooden  sarcophagus.  No  traces  now 
remained  of  her  emaciating  illnes  except  a 
few  scars  ;  her  face  was  fresh,  and  shining 
with  an  uncommon  splendor.  When  her 
departure  was  known,  crowds  of  people 
from  Rotterdam,  Delft,  Leyden,  Briel  and 
other  towns,  flocked  to  see  her  remains. 
Little  children,  three  and  four  years  old, 


AVE     MARIA. 


313 


ran  on  before  to  mingle  'in  the  crowd. 
When  they  reached  the  place,  and  found 
themselves  shut  out  from  a  view  of  the 
body  by  the  masses  of  taller  persons  who 
pressed  in  before  them,  they  called  out, 
"Are  we  not  to  see  this  dear  saint,  when 
we  have  come  all  the  way  from  Rotterdam, 
Delft,  etc.,  to  see  her  ?"  The  people  then 
lifted  them  up  to  see  her.  When  they 
were  satisfied,  they  received  a  little  bread, 
and  were  sent  home  again.  A  mother,  with 
her  little  boy  a  year  and  three  months  old, 
had  come  to  lookatLydia;  the  child  folded 
his  hands,  and  turned  his  face  towards  her 
with  a  fixed  look  of  such  devout  earnest- 
ness that  the  persons  who  were  watching 
by  the  remains  were  moved  to  tears  at  the 
sight.  At  noon  on  the  Friday  following 
her  death,  after  Mass,  Lydia's  body  was 
laid  to  rest  on  the  south  side  of  the  church- 
yard of  St.  John  Baptist,  at  Scheidam. 
The  next  year,  the  rector  of  the  church 
built  a  small  chapel  of  stone  over  her  tomb, 
which  was  even  then  much  frequented  by 
persons  who  had  received  benefits  from  her 
intercession.  Two  nuns,  in  particular,  and 
one  unmarried  woman  in  the  world,  had 
all  been  cured  of  serious  complaints  by 
asking  herassistance,  as  Thomas  liKempis 
assures  us. 

The  bones  of  Lydia  were  translated  from 
Scheidam  to  the  church  of  St.  Gudule,  in 
Brussels,  in  the  month  of  December,  1615. 
On  the  14th  of  the  following  January  the 
Archbishop  of  Malines  sanctioned  in  a  pas- 
toral letter  the  public  cuUtts  of  "  Blessed 
Lidwina,"  and  granted  an  indulgence  of 
forty  days  to  all  who  visited  and  prayed 
before  her  relics  with  suitable  dispositions. 
Her  festival  was  celebrated  with  the  Mass 
of  the  Holy  Trinity,  for  she  had  not  been 
canonized  by  the  Supreme  Pontiff.  A 
panegyric  on  her  life  and  extraordinary 
virtues  was  pronounced  at  Mass.  In  ac- 
cordance with  a  wish  expressed  by  her  in 
life,  a  convent  for  Grey  Sisters  was  built 
over  the  place  where  she  lay  so  long  in 
sickness ;  afterwards  an  altar  dedicated  in 
her  honor  was  placed  where  her  bed  had 
stood. 

-At  the  Protestant  Reformation  in  Hol- 


land the  altar  and  oonrent  were  over- 
thrown but  the  people  so  far  respected 
her  dying  wish  as  to  change  the  convent 
into  an  orphanage. 


Life  of  Mother  Mary  Seraphine  F • 

[continued.] 
The  same  obedience  made  her  take  with- 
out any  remark  remedies  that  she  knew 
were  unsuited  for  her  complaints,  and 
she  would  never  accept  any  indulgence 
not  permitted  in  the  infirmary.  She  was 
once  parched  with  thirst  in  a  burning 
fever;  three  times  she  asked  for  a  little 
cold  water,  without  the  attendant  sister 
appearing  to  hear  the  request;  once 
more  she  implored  a  draught :.  "  The  in- 
firmarian  forbade  it,"  said  the  sister  at 
last,  "  but  you  suffer  so  much  I  will  give 
you  just  a  little."  "  No,  no,"  said  the 
invalid,  "let  us  be  obedient;  I  did  not 
know  it  was  forbidden."  During  her 
novitiate  she  had  surmounted,  by  an  obe- 
dience as  simple  as  it  was  generous,  one 
of  her  greatest  repugnances.  She  was 
named  as  one  who,  with  another  sister 
as  timid  as  herself,  was  to  watch  all  night 
beside  the  corpse  of  a  deceased  nun. 
Without  hesitation  she  went  to  the  in- 
firmary and  remained  till  a  little  before 
day.*  A  sister  who  knew  well  she  was 
exceedingly  sensitive  to  terror  in  pres- 
ence of  the  dead,  asked  her  how  she  had 
overcome  her  fears."  "By  obedience," 
she  answered.  Yet,  nevertheless,  this 
horror  of  the  presence  of  a  corpse  was  so 
deeply  rooted  in  her,  that  even  to  the 
end  of  her  life  it  was  a  cause  for  triumph 
if  she  could  overcome  it.  Her  spirit  of 
obedience  was  manifested  by  her  conde- 
scension to  the  wishes  of  others.  Once, 
after  an  illness  that  left  her  very  feeble, 
she  resumed  her  occupations  little  by 
little.  A  sister  saw  her  engaged,  one 
fine  day  in  spring,  with  a  novice  in  her 
cabinet,  and  advised  her  to  go  and  sit 
out  of  doors  to  breathe  the  balmy  air. 
Instantly  she  arose  and  gathered  her  work 
up,  and  with  the  novice's  help  moved  it 


314r 


AVE      MARIA. 


and  hor  chair  out  before  the  garden  door; 
hardly  was  she  seated  when  another  sis- 
ter came  along  and  said  to  the  convales- 
cent: "Dear  sister,  how  can  you  sit  thus 
in  a  draft?  You  are  exposed  at  once  to 
a  current  of  air  and  the  heat  of  the  sun  ; 
do  come  out  a  little  under  the  trees." 
"  Well  and  good,"  said  Sister  Seraphino  ; 
"let  us  go  sit  under  the  trees."  But 
hardly  was  she  established  in  her  new 
place  when  a  good  lay-sister  came  past, 
and  cried  out:  "  Oh,  sister  dear,  for  the 
love  of  God  don't  sit  there  on  the  grass; 
you  will  take  cold  and  be  ill  again,  worse 
than  ever!"  Sister  Seraphine  began  to 
laugh.  "Well,  come;  we  will  try  again, 
and  see  if  we  can  find  a  place  that  will 
suit  everybody;  because  if  we  don't,  in 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  I  will  have  to  travel 
again,  without  having  been  able  to  please 
one  of  all  those  who  wish  to  do  me  good." 
And  speaking  thus  she  proceeded  to  follow 
the  direction  last  given  to  her,  and  when 
the  novice  admired  her  condescension: 
"My  child,"  she  replied,  "it  would  be  to 
little  purpose  that  I  had  endured  the 
affliction  of  having  the  command  for  so 
long  a  time,  if  it  had  not  taught  me  how 
to  obey." 

Her  definition  of  the  requirements  of 
true  religious  poverty  were  those  of  a 
most  generous  heart.  Faithful  manager 
of  the  treasures  of  which  this  holy  virtue 
is  the  source,  she  never  let  an  occasion 
escape  of  showing  she  was  truly  one  of 
the  poor  of  Jesus  Christ.  During  the 
long  years  of  trial  endured  by  the  commu- 
nity it  was  with  the  most  joyous  gaiety 
and  inexhaustible  confidence  in  God  that 
she  bore  the  solicitudes,  the  necessities, 
the  labors  and  the  privations  of  a  pov- 
erty amounting  almost  to  destitution. 
She  asserted  often  in  after  times  that  the 
community  had  truly  been  raised  up  on 
the  bread  of  the  poor,  and  yet  that  never 
had  their  fervor  and  spiritual  consola- 
tions been  more  abundant  than  at  the 
time  of  their  greatest  temporal  want. 
She  thus  was  very  fond  of  dwelling  on 
the  early  times  of  the  re-establishment  of 
the   house;  she  preferred  the   old  furni- 


ture and  scant  conveniences,  or  rather  in- 
convenienccs,  for  domestic  uses  they  then 
had,  and  regretted  to  see  more  modern- 
utensils  take  the  place;  what  care,  what 
vigilance  did  she  not  give  to  preserving 
the  most  precious  of  heritages  to  relig- 
ions, the  love  of  holy  poverty!  This  vir- 
tue, so  dear  to  our  Lord  and  all  His  saints, 
was  conspicuous  in  all  the  enterprises 
she  undertook,  and  made  her  extremely 
watchful  over  the  welfare  of  the  commu- 
nity ;  it  made  her  careful  to  have  all  their 
resources  in  the  garden  and  grounds  put 
to  the  most  advantageous  uses,  and  in 
the  dispensary  and  the  kitchen  order  and 
economy  most  strictly  observed.  "We 
are  the  poor  of  God,"  she  would  say,  "  and 
Ho  will  give  us  all  we  need;  but  He  wills 
that  we  should  manage  well  the  goods  in 
our  charge,  that  we  may  have  the  means 
to  help  other  poor  ones."  In  her  own 
personal  arrangements  she  appeared  the 
true  religious,  denuded  and  despoiled  of 
all  things.  She  would  have  nothing  kept 
in  her  cell  but  what  was  needed  for  im- 
mediate use ;  if  anything  was  put  there  by 
others,  it  instantly  disappeared,  some- 
times returned  to  the  places  where  such 
things  belonged,  oftener  given  to  some 
other  of  the  sisters.  "  Mother,"  said  one 
of  the  sisters  to  her  one  day,  when  she 
had  evaded  an  attempt  to  conceal  some- 
thing in  her  cell  for  her  use,  "  you  have 
not  even  what  you  think  necessary  for 
us."  "The  riches  of  a  religious,"  she 
replied,  "  is  to  have  nothing."  The  most 
grievous  mortification  they  could  give  her 
was  to  provide  for  her  a  particular  por- 
tion at  table ;  and  yet  she  absolutely 
needed  that  her  appetite  should  be  coaxed, 
to  enable  her  to  eat  at  all,  so  entirely  had 
her  health  been  destroyed  by  her  ceaseless 
labors.  When  superior,  she  sent  to  the 
infirmary  all  the  little  delicacies  prepared 
for  her.  One  day  finding  in  her  place 
at  table  a  magnificent  pear,  she  cut  it  into 
as  many  pieces  as  she  had  daughters  and 
passed  it  around  the  table.  After  a  seri- 
ous illness  it  was  judged  necessary  she 
should  sleep  for  a  certain  time  on  a  feather 
bed;   obedience    alone  could    induce   her 


AVE      MA  R  I A  . 


316 


to  do  bo;  but  when  the  time  fixed  for 
her  sleeping  on  it  was  over,  she  severnl 
times  asked  the  sister — who,  while  she  was 
still  weak,  was  charged  to  take  care  of 
her  cell — to  please  take  it  away.  The  ro- 
qnest  was  purposely  disregarded  ;  where- 
upon Mother  Seraphino  took  the  obnox- 
ious article  one  day,  and  herself  bundled 
it  into  the  cell  of  the  contumacious  lay- 
sister,  and  having  put  it  under  her  mat- 
tress carefully,  remade  the  bed.  Night 
coming,  the  poor  sister  became  aware  of 
the  change,  and  hastened  to  her  superior 
to  beg  to  be  allowed  to  remove  the  bed. 
"No,  sister,"  replied  Mother  Seraphine; 
"you  must  take  care  of  it;"  then  she 
added  seriously :  "  I  told  you  twice  to  take 
it  away,  and  you  did  not  obey;  now  for 
your  penance  you  shall  sleep  on  it;"  and 
then  smiling:  "  You  are  often  very  tired, 
and  it  will  do  you  good." 

Another  time  a  set  of  new  chairs  was 
put  in  the  parlor  reserved  for  the  superior 
— a  present  from  a  friend.  "  If  you  wish," 
said  Mother  Seraphine,  "  to  do  me  a  pleas- 
ure, you  will  put  them  in  the  public  par- 
lor." The  same  friend  found  her  one 
evening  with  a  tiny  lamp  that  would 
hardly  give  any  light,  and  wished  to  per- 
suade her  to  use  a  better  light  instead. 
"There  is  no  reason  I  should  use  any- 
thing better  than  the  sisters,"  she  an- 
swered ;  "  all  use  those  lamps ;  if,  because 
I  am  superior,  I  should  use  a  more  expen- 
sive light,  another  sister  will  use  one  from 
some  other  motive :  and  see  how  the  spirit 
of  poverty  would  get  lost."  This  little 
lamp  was  the  only  light  she  had  when 
her  sufferings  obliged  her  to  keep  away 
from  the  community  apartments.  By  its 
feeble  light  she  took  her  meals,  worked, 
and  even  wrote  when  occasion  required 
the  use  of  the  pen.  The  same  spirit  of 
poverty  made  her  very  watchful  in  the 
employment  of  her  time.  During  more 
than  twenty  years  in  which  she  was  supe- 
rior, she  made  the  barbettes  or  hemmed 
the  handkerchiefs  for  all  the  community; 
it  was  only  when  her  sight  failed  too 
much  to  allow  her  to  do  this  fine  sewing, 
that   she    would   permit   her   task    to   be 


changed.  At  one  time,  when  snperior, 
she  nominated  herself  aid  to  all  the  offices 
in  the  house,  and  availed  herself  of  the 
knowledge  she  had,  as  superior,  of  the 
state  of  esich  office  to  give  her  help  to  the 
one  that  chanced  to  be  most  overcharged 
with  work  just  then.  She  would  send  her 
basket  to  be  filled  with  work,  and  then 
strive  to  gain  an  agreeable  surprise  by 
the  speedy  return  of  it,  all  done. 

[to  he  continuku.] 


A.  TV  :X  A.  IL.  8 

OF  OUR  LADY  OF  THE  SACRED  HEART. 


Oceanica. 


Our  Lady   of  the   Sacred  Heart  Ain) 
THE  Conversion  of  Easter  Island, 

CALLED  THE  IsLAMD  OF  TlllEVES. 

We  have  received  news  that  must  touch 
every  Catholic  heart.  The  island  last  dis- 
covered in  the  extreme  east  of  Oceanica, 
the  island  of  Rapa-Nui,  or  Vaihou,  known 
also  as  Easter  Island,  contains  not  a  single 
infidel. 

In  1866  we  announced  that  the  mission- 
aries who  undertook  to  evangelize  this 
island  had  placed  their  generous  under- 
taking under  the  protection  of  Our  Lady 
of  the  Sabred  Hearty  and  had  taken  pos- 
session of  the  savage  country  in  the  name 
of  the  Queen  of  the  Heart  of  Jesus.  Now, 
as  the  most  happy  results  we  could  have 
wished,  from  the  standpoint  of  faith,  are 
announced,  it  is  but  fair  that  we  should 
make  known  to  our  readers  this  little 
kingdom  of  our  Mother. 

Easter  Island  is  the  last  of  the  scattered 
islands  in  the  eastern  part  of  Oceanica, 
sometimea  called  Sporades,  or  scattered,  not 
being  attatchcd  to  any  particular  group. 
Thus,  Easter  Island  is  the  most  distant  of 
the  Oceanic  isles,  as  I^itmos  is  the  most 
northern  sporade  of  the  Mediterranean. 
Between  these  two  islands,  so  far  away 
from  others,  each  occupying  the  last  place, 
what  an  immense  distance !  and  neverthe- 


316 


AVE     MARIA 


less  as  we  write  we  often  place  them  close 
together,  to  admire  the  wonderful  designs 
of  God. 

PatmoSy  but  a  few  years  after  the  Res- 
urrection of  Jesus  Christ,  is  chosen  among 
all  to  be  one  of  the  first  and  most  cele- 
brated conquests  of  the  Gospel.  Easter 
Island  waits  for  the  nineteenth  century, 
and  seems  to  arise  suddenly  from  the 
ocean  as  one  of  the  last  gems  which  were 
yet  wanting  to  the  crown  of  the  Church. 

It  is  true  that  Roggerween,  a  Dutch 
admiral,  discovered  the  island  on  Easter 
Sunday,  the  6th  of  April,  1722,  and  that 
some  attribute  its  discovery  to  the  English 
navigator,  Davis,  in  1686;  it  is  also  true 
that  Captain  Cook  and  other  hardy  navi- 
gators touched  upon  the  shores  of  the 
island  ;  but  none  of  them  had  the  privilege 
of  settling  on  it,  nor  the  thought  of  gain- 
ing it  to  Jesus  Christ* 

A  few  years  ago,  some  pirates  urged  by 
the  thirst  of  gain  made  a  descent  upon  the 
island,  induced  many  of  the  savages  to  go 
on  shipboard,  and  having  deprived  them  of 
their  senses  with  strong  drink,  sailed  away 
and  sold  the  poor  savages  as  slaves. 

More  than  a  thousand  of  the  inhabitants 
of  the  island  were  thus  ravished  from  their 
homes  and  dragged  into  cruel  servitude. 
The  news  of  such  cruelty  committed  by 
civilized  men,  inspired  Brother  Eugene 
Eyraud,  of  the  Congregation  of  the  Sacred 
Hearts,  with  just  and  legitimate  indigna- 
tion. Alone,  the  young  apostle,  in  spite 
of  the  almost  insurmountable  difficulties 
of  such  an  undertaking  but  full  of  confi- 
dence in  God,  resolved,  with  the  permis- 
sion of  his  superiors,  to  go  and  prepare  a 
mission  among  this  people  still  seated  in 
the  shadow  of  death.  In  vain  his  friends 
represented  to  him  that  the  Kanacs  (the 
name  of  the  islanders),  furious  at  having 
lost  so  many  of  their  countrymen,  would 
cut  in  pieces  any  one  who  should  be  so 
rash  as  to  go  near  them.  A  missionary  is 
not  scared  by  so  little  a  thing  as  death; 
and  on  the  3d  of  January,  1864,  this  hum- 
ble and  zealous  Religious,  after  along  voy- 
age over  a  sea  but  little  known,  arrived 
alone  on  this  island  still  more  unknown. 


He  arrived  on  Sunday,  the  Octave  of  St. 
John  the  Evangelist]  of  St.  John,  who  long 
ago  was  exiled  to  the  desert  shores  of  Pa^- 
mos\  of  St.  John  the  disciple  of  the  Heart 
of  Jesus,  the  adopted  son  of  Mary,  the 
apostle  who  so  thoroughly  evangelized  the 
island  of  his  captivity  and  changed  the 
pagan  inhabitants  into  disciples  of  Jesus 
Christ. 

"While  Brother  Eugene  Eyraud,  the  faith- 
ful messenger  of  Providence,  was  prepar- 
ing the  way  for  the  Gospel,  many  pious 
souls  in  various  countries,  the  associations 
of  prayers,  and  particularly  the  confrater- 
nity of  Our  Lady  of  the  Sacred  Hearty 
which  first  appeared  in  the  same  month  of 
January,  1864,  were  preparing,  unawares, 
the  most  efficacious  means  of  fulfilling  his 
mission. 

Easter  Island  at  the  time  of  Brother 
Eugene's  arrival  was  not  the  abode  of 
scrupulous  probity ;  the  inhabitants  were 
all  thieves  by  profession,  and  each  in  his 
turn  was  thief  and  victim.  Property  did 
not  belong  to  the  most  worthy,  nor  to  the 
highest  bidder,  not  even  to  the  strongest, 
but  to  the  trickiest  of  the  band.  These 
free  and  easy  manners,  which  date  back 
very  far  in  their  traditions,  were  put  in 
full  force  against  the  few  strangers  who  at 
long  intervals  stopped  at  the  island. 

They  soon  proved,  says  Captain  Cook, 
that  they  were  very  skilful  thieves  .... 
We  could  scarcely  keep  our  hats  on  our 
heads,  and  it  was  particularly  difficult  to 
keep  anything  in  our  pockets,  even  what 
we  had  bought  from  them — they  being  al- 
ways on  the  watch  to  steal  what  we  had ; 
so  that  after  selling  us  fruit  and  other  ar- 
ticles three  or  four  times  over,  they  suc- 
ceeded in  taking  them  away  with  them  .  .  . 
They  played  us  all  sorts  of  tricks,  and 
usually  with  the  greatest  success.  Scarcely 
had  we  found  out  one  trick  before  they  in- 
vented another They  cheated  us  in 

selling  baskets  filled  apparently  with  ba- 
nanas, but  in  reality  with  stones  or  stuff 
covered  over  with  the  fruit,  etc.,  etc. 

It  was  the  same  for  good  Brother  Eu- 
gene. As  the  ship  which  brought  him 
and  a  few  indispensible  articles  of  furni- 


AVE      MARIA. 


817 


ture  to  the  island,  sailed  rapidly  away,  the 
savage  islanders  surrounded  him  in  great 
numbers.  Under  the  pretext  of  relieving 
him,  they  stole  everything  he  had.  And 
this  was  not  all:  the  Kanacs  soon  began 
to  display  a  wish  to  divide  up  and  share 
the  body  of  the  unknown  man,  and  make 
a  big  dinner  of  him;  they  were  several 
times  on  the  point  of  committing  this 
crime,  but  God  watched  over  His  servant. 
During  nine  mon</«  there  was  no  trouble 
that  the  good  brother  did  not  endure;  they 
played  off  all  their  tricks  upon  him,  and 
this  they  did  with  the  best  grace  and  great- 
est good  humor  imaginable.  One  day  they 
would  destroy  all  his  work,  and  the  next 
they  would  come  in  crowds  and  ask  for  a 
big  boat,  when  there  was  not  a  large  tree 
on  the  island — nothing  but  shrubs  and 
brush.  But  let  us  take  Brother  Eugene^s 
own  narrative: 

"  When  they  knock  at  my  door,  if  I  go 
out  at  once,  all  is  well;  they  will  begin 
the  class  (of  catechism)  on  the  grass  in 
front  of  the  hut;  if  I  tarry,  they  knock 
all  around  the  hut,  then  they  go  and  sit 
at  some  distance  and  begin  to  throw 
stones  at  the  house, — little  ones  at  first, 
afterwards  big  ones  to  keep  up  the  inter- 
est of  the  thing.  Whether  the  catechist 
be  in  good  humor  or  not,  he  must  make 
his  appearance.  I  go  out,  armed  with  my 
catechism,  and,  sitting  on  the  grass,  I  say: 
*  Come  now,  let  us  learn  the  prayers.' 
*No,'  they  reply;  'come  thou  to  us.' 
The  best  way  is  to  go  at  once.  Those 
who  get  tired  first,  get  up  and  leave, 
and  soon  all  are  gone,  with  the  under- 
standing that  all  must   begin    over   just 

when    they    please These    good 

folks  have  nothing  to  do  twelve  months  in 
the  year.  When  they  have  a  feast  they 
steal  my  sheep,  cook  and  eat  them ;  the 
brebis  brulees  have  been  sung  time  and 
time  again.  Do  not  imagine,  however, 
that  they  fatigue  themselves  making  poems 
for  the  occasion  ;  they  content  themselves 
by  repeating  over  and  over  the  fact  of 
the  sheep  being  roasted,  and  they  sing 
it  in  every  key  from  the  beginning  to  the 
end  of  the  feast.  .  .  . 


"My  Torometti  (one  of  the  greatest 
thieves)  had  taken  good  care,  the  very 
first  day,  to  appropriate  a  little  bell  which 
I  had  brought  with  me.  It  gained  for 
him  the  universal  applause  of  all,  and 
rejoiced  all  the  echoes  of  the  island.  .  .  ." 

Such  were  the  men  whom  he  had  to 
instruct  and  convert,  thievish  and  sav- 
age, corrupt  and  deceitful,  having  nothing 
to  do,  and  knowing  nothing,  and  form- 
ing a  little  commonwealth  of  twelve  hun- 
dred souls. 

[to  bb  contixued.] 


HiLOREN'S 


EPARTMENT. 


[Translated  from  the  French  for  the  Ave  Maria.] 
MARY   OVR  MODEL. 


Modesty. 

The  modesty  of  which  wo  will  speak  is 
not  only  that  which  is  born  of  humility, 
and  is  its  exterior  form,  but,  above  all, 
that  most  delicate  virtue  which  is  the  com- 
panion and  guardian  of  holy  reserve; 
therefore  we  associate  it  with  chastity, 
which  is  its  foundation. 

The  name  alone  of  Mary  expresses  these 
three  divine  virtues:  angelic  chastity, 
timid  modesty,  and  a  humble  love  of  the 
hidden  life.  Like  the  modest  violet  which 
hides  its  flower  in  the  spring  under  the 
teeming  verdure,  but  whose  fragrance  dis- 
covers it,  the  humble  daughter  of  St.  Ann 
endeavored  in  vain  to  conceal  her  virtues 
from  the  world,  and  even  from  her  compan- 
ions. She  could  not  entirely  dissimulate 
the  treasures  of  grace  hidden  in  her  heart ; 
heaven  was  pleased  to  make  them  known, 
anticipating  the  time  when  the  whole 
world  should  be  filled  with  the  odor  of  her 
virtues. 

I  do  not  know  how  to  approach  such  a 
subject.  Who  will  give  me  words  suffi- 
ciently pure  and  sweet  to  speak  worthily 
of  this  lily  whose  whiteness  merited  the 
eulogy  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  to  describe 
the  ravishing  candor  of  this  dove  whom 


31H 


A  V  13      MA  R  I  A 


the  spouse  of  the  Canticles  proclaims  with- 
out spot,  beautiful  among  all,  his  only  one, 
his  well-beloved?  I  must  employ  the 
language  of  the  saints.  "  What  must  be," 
exclaims  St.  Epiphanius,  "the  sanctity  of 
this  virgin  who  was  judged  worthy  to  be- 
come the  spouse  of  the  Blessed  Trinity, 
the  nuptial  bed  from  which  Christ  arose  to 
save  human  nature?  O  happy  Virgin, 
mediatrix  between  heaven  and  earth,  pure 
dove,  heaven,  temple  and  throne  of  the 
divinity!"  Wo  could  never  end  if  we 
were  merely  to  enumerate  the  glorious 
titles  given  by  the  fathers  of  the  Church 
to  this  Virgin  of  virgins. 

Dispel  from  your  minds  all  impure 
thoughts,  dispel  the  shadow  of  siu :  Mary 
never  committed  the  least  iniquity  ;  never 
soiled  the  beauty  of  her  soul  by  the  least 
spot.  The  most  brilliant  mirror,  the  purest 
crystal,  the  most  subtile  flame,  all  those 
images  by  which  we  would  express  her 
inviolable  purity,  are  too  imperfect.  Let  us 
leave  them  and  take  a  practical  stand- 
point. 

Mary  had  such  a  horror  of  sin,  especially 
of  the  more  shameful  ones,  that  her  virtue 
fortified  by  grace  was  in  no  danger;  never- 
theless she  shunned  with  admirable  care 
all  that  might  injure  it.  What  an  exam- 
ple of  prudence  and  modesty  for  young 
girls  !  Although  lier  spirit,  enlightened  by 
the  brightest  light,  had  a  profound  con- 
tempt for  all  low  and  unworthy  thoughts, 
and  her  heart  filled  with  the  Holy  Spirit 
experienced  an  insurmountable  aversion  to 
Bin,  she  was  so  prudent  and  took  such 
precautions  that  none  of  her  compan- 
ions were  so  careful  as  she  to  preserve 
themselves  from  all  temptation.  She 
would  not  only  turn  her  eyes  from  an 
unbecoming  object,  but  she  habitually  kept 
them  cast  down,  in  order  not  to  expose 
herself  to  them.  She  was  so  reserved 
in  her  words,  and  her  ears  were  so  deli- 
cate in  point  of  modesty,  that  her  mere 
presence  in  company  banished  all  levity. 
A  simple  allusion  not  entirely  chaste 
would  have  caused  her  to  blush  and  with- 
draw from  their  presence.  She  could  not 
tolerate  any  but  the  most  innocent  conver- 


sations, and  took  no  pleasure  in  any  but 
edifying  subjects. 

Would  to  God  that  all  young  persons 
were  as  jealous  in  preserving  their  inno- 
cence ! 

Fly  from  wicked  company  I  fly  from  bad 
conversations  !  fly  from  bad  example  ! — 
in  a  word,  fly  from  sin,  says  the  sacred 
scriptures,  as  one  would  fly  from  a  serpent. 

At  every  age,  to  shun  the  occasions  of 
sin  is  the  best  preservative  against  temp- 
tations. But  how  much  more  necessary 
is  it  for  young  girls  without  experience 
and  without  solid  virtue?  When  you 
have  seen  persons  to  all  appearances  the 
most  steadfast  fall,  how  dare  you  with 
your  excessive  weakness  brave  such  great 
dangers?  If  you  do  not  know  how  cun- 
ning Satan  is,  how  weak  you  are  at  your 
age,  have  at  least  sufficient  discretion  in 
the  wisdom  of  your  parents  to  follow  their 
advice.  Guard  your  eyes  and  your  ears, 
which  are  the  doors  by  which  sin  enters 
your  soul.  Close  your  heart  against  curi- 
osity, which  too  often  open  these  doors  and 
admits  the  enemy,  and  is  then  unable  to 
shut  them  again.  That  you  may  never  be 
an  object  of  scandal  to  others  and  an  in- 
strument of  Satan,  take  care  that  your  be- 
havior, your  manner  of  dressing,  your  con- 
versation, and  your  actions,  do  not  excite 
evil  thoughts  and  guilty  sentiments  in  the 
minds  of  others.  How  terrible  will  be 
the  punishment  of  those  affected  young 
girls  who  sacrifice  their  conscience  to 
the  immoderate  desires  of  pleasing! 

Even  when  you  are  alone,  be  modest ; 
remember  that  your  guardian  angel  is 
near  you,  that  the  eye  of  God  is  always 
watching  you.  Remove  far  from  you 
immodest  thoughts;  the  same  eye  sees 
the  bottom  of  your  heart,  and  His  hand 
holds  the  key  of  the  abyss  where  His  in- 
exorable justice  punishes  sin  by  eternal 
torments. 

If  the  demon  tempts  you,  raise  your 
eyes  to  this  terrible  Judge,  the  salutary 
fear  of  whom  is  a  shield  against  siu. 
Implore  the  assistance  of  Mary,  your 
model,  who  is  now  all-powerful  in  heaven 
to  protect  and  save  you. 


AVE      MARIA. 


819 


Immodesty. 

Modesty  is  such  an  integral  i>art  of  wom- 
an's character,  and  especially  a  Christian 
woman's,  that  the  void  made  by  its  absence 
is  filled  up  by  the  inexorable  contempt  of 
others.  That  is  why  it  is  so  shocking  to 
see,  in  a  young  girl,  manners  too  bold  and  an 
exterior  too  unreserved.  We  do  not  speak 
here  of  those  gross  faults  against  modesty; 
wo  should  not  suppose  them  possible 
amongst  our  readers.  But  we  must  blame 
severely  a  certain  loose  behavior — which 
betrays  a  want  of  that  delicate  modesty 
wo  have  spoken  of,  or  else  a  dangerous 
giddiness. 

JusTiNK  is  a  type  of  this  bad  style  of 
girls.  It  is  necessary  to  know  her  thor- 
oughly in  order  not  to  judge  harshly  of 
her  intentions,  so  much  does  she  forget 
the  reserve  belonging  to  her  sex.  And, 
nevertheless,  she  is  wanting  neither  in  in- 
telligence nor  good  sense  when  she  con- 
descends to  reflect:  her  misfortune  is  to 
yield  blindly  to  her  natural  petulance,  not- 
withstanding all  the  advice  given  her. 

She  laughs  and  screams,  she  romps  and 
jumps — old  as  she  is — just  like  a  little 
girl  of  six.  It  seems  that  she  does  not 
know  that  a  child  of  six,  or  even  ten,  years, 
on  account  of  its  age,  its  innoceno  and  its 
ignorance,  may  bo  pardoned  many  eccen- 
tricities that  are  intolerable  at  the  ago  of 
sixteen  or  eighteen.  She  ought  to  know 
that  there  is  a  modesty  of  behavior  which 
a  young  girl  should  never  forget  even  in 
the  family-circle,  and  which  should  be  ob- 
served still  more  strictly  before  strangers, 
and,  above  all,  in  public.  It  is  pre- 
cisely this  distinction  that  Justine  fails 
to  make.  She  thinks  herself  sufficiently 
justified  by  saying  "I  have  no  intention 
of  doing  wrong,"  But  the  world  is  too 
severe  to  accept  such  an  excuse.  In  vain 
they  have  tried  to  m.ike  her  understand 
that  it  is  not  always  allowed  to  take  a  too 
free-and-easy  posture,  to  lounge  on  her 
chair,  to  laugh  and  chatter  without  dis- 
cretion, to  speak  imprudently  of  family 
aflfairs,  and  to  make  free  with  all  kinds  of 
persons.    She  goes  so  far,  in  giddy  thought- 


lessness, as  to  speak  of  scandalous  ad- 
ventures and  of  subjects  that  come  near 
being  utterly  improper,  with  a  freedom  of 
expression  which  older  persons  would  not 
use,  repeating  vulgar  words  and  slang 
terms,  for  the  sole  pleasure  of  amusing 
others  or  making  them  utter  exclamations  of 
surprise  or  disgust.    All  this  is  very  wrong. 

In  a  word,  Justine  has  too  much  the 
manners  of  a  sturdy  boy.  She  lacks  the 
delicacy  of  her  sex.  You  would  be  forced 
at  times  to  say  of  her  that  she  had  been 
bred  in  a  barracks. 

It  is  high  time  she  should  give  up  this 
sort  of  ugly  beliavior,  or  she  will  soon  pay 
dearly  for  it;  for  she  will  soon  receive 
many  severe  lessons,  and  many  humilia- 
tions. Let  her  look  to  herself,  and  hasten 
to  secure  herself  in  the  narrow  circle  of 
becoming  behavior. 

She  would  do  so,  you  may  say,  but  she 
does  not  know  how — because  her  character 
is  so  impulsive,  and  she  does  not  perceive 
her  faults.  Lame  excuse  !  They  were  so 
often  pointed  out  to  her  that  she  might  easi- 
ly corrected  herself,  or  at  least  fall  less 
often  into  them,  if  she  had  been  more  at- 
tentive. But  up  to  present  date,  she  would 
not  give  herself  the  trouble;  she  never 
thinks  seriously  of  advice,  however  grave, 
which  has  been  so  often  given  her. 

May  she  acknowledge  her  faults,  take 
the  firm  resolution  to  have  recourse  to  the 
Blessed  Virgin,  and  endeavor  to  imitate 
her  in  all  her  behavior! 


The  Name  of  God  In  forty-eight  Languages. 

As  Louis  Burger,  the  well-known  au- 
thor and  philologist,  was  walking  in  the 
Avenue  des  Champs-Elys6es,  one  day,  he 
heard  a  familiar  voice  exclaiming,  "Buy 
some  nuts  of  a  poor  man,  sir ;  twenty  for 
a  penny  1"  lie  looked  up,  and  recoguixed 
his  old  barber. 

"What  are  you  selling  nuts  for?"  said  he. 

"  Ah,  sir,  I  have  been  unfortunate." 

"  But  this  is  no  business  for  a  man  like 
you." 

•*  Oh,  sir,  if  you  could  only  tell  me  of 


320 


AVE      MARIA. 


something  to  do,"  returned  the  barber 
with  a  sigh. 

Burger  was  touched.  lie  reflected  a 
moment;  then  tearing  a  leaf  from  his 
memorandum-book,  he  wrote  for  a  few 
moments  and  handed  it  to  the  man,  say- 
ing, ''Take  this  to  a  printing-oftice  and 
have  a  hundred  copies  struck  off;  here  is 
the  money  to  pay  for  it.  Get  a  license 
from  the  prefecture  of  police,  and  sell 
them  at  two  cents  a  copy,  and  you  will 
have  bread  on  the  spot.  The  strangers 
who  visit  Paris  cannot  refuse  this  tribute 
to  the  name  of  God  printed  in  so  many 
different  ways." 

The  barber  did  as  he  was  bid,  and  was 
always  seen  in  the  entrance  to  the  Expos- 
ition selling  the  following  hand-bill: 

THE     NAME     OF     GOD    IN    FOBTY-KIGHT   LAN- 
GUAGES. 

Hebrew,  Elohim  or  Eloah  ;  Oiala  tongue, 
Den;  Ohaidaic,£'/aA/  German  and  Swiss, 
Gott;  Assyrian,  Ella h  /  Flemish,  Goed / 
Syriac  and  Turkish,  Alah  ;  Dutch,  Godt ; 
Manlay,  Alia;  English  and  old  Saxon, 
God;  Arabic,  Allah;  Language  of  the 
Magi,  Orsi ;  Teutonic,  Gott ;  Danish  and 
Swedish,  Gut;  Old  Egyptian,  7<jwi/  Nor- 
wegian, Gud ;  Armor ian,  Teuti  ;  Slavic, 
Buck;  Modern  Egyptian,  Teun ;  Polish, 
Bog;  Greek,  Theos ;  Pollaeca,  Bung; 
Cretan,  Thios ;  Lapp,  Jubinal ;  -^olian 
and  Doric  Ilos ;  Finnish,  Jumala ;  Latin, 
Dens;  llunic.  As;  Low  Latin,  Diex ; 
Pannonian,  Istu ;  Celtic  and  old  Gallic, 
Diu ;  Zemblian,  Fetizo ;  French,  Dieu; 
Hindostanue,  Rain;  Spanish,  2>to«/  Cor- 
omandel,  Brama ;  Portuguese,  Deoa ; 
Tiirtar,  Magatel ;  Old  German,  JDtX/  Per- 
sian, Sire;  Proven9al,  Diou;  Chinese, 
Prussa ;  Low  Breton,  Done;  Japanese, 
Goezur  ;  Italian,  Dio  ;  Madagascar,  Za/i- 
nar;  Irish,  2>teA/  Peruvian, PacAocammac. 

A  few  days  after  Burger  met  his  barber. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  has  the  holy  name  of 
God  brought  you  good  luck?" 

"  Yes  indeed,  sir.  I  sell  on  an  average 
a  hundred  copies  a  day,  at  two  cents  each, 
or  \y(o  dollars;  but  the  strangers  are  gen- 
orous;  some  give  me  ten  cents  and  others 


twenty.     I  have  even  received  half  a  dol- 
lar for  a  copy,  so  that,  all  told,  I  am  mak- 
ing five  dollars  a  day." 
"  Five  dollars  a  day  ?" 
"Yes,  sir,  thanks  to  your  kindness." 
"Ah!"  thought  Burger  as  he   walked 
away.     "If  I  were  not  a   literary  man  I 
would  turn  peddler  or  publisher;  there  is 
nothing  so  profitable  as  selling  the  learn- 
ing or  wit  of  others  !" 


^ »  ♦  » ^ 


It  is  interesting  to  study  how  fear 
works  on  different  persons.  Some  would 
actually  become  paralyzed  were  they  to 
address  a  public  audience:  others  are 
terribly  frightened  by  thunder  and  light- 
ning; one  is  a  victim  to  nocturnal  terrors, 
and  the  shadows  of  the  night  overpower 
him;  and  another  is  so  apprehensive  of 
the  apparition  of  spirits  that  he  will  not 
sleep  alone.  To  my  own  knowledge  one  of 
the  bravest  generals  of  our  times,  for  whom 
that  danger  has  most  charms  which  is  the 
greatest,  would  kill  his  orderly  were  he  to 
leave  his  master's  room  during  the  night. 

St.  Francis  of  Sales  addressed  a  person  of 
this  class  thus:  "I  hear  that  you  fear  the 
spirits.  The  sovereign  Spirit  of  our  God  is 
everywhere,  and  without  His  permission 
and  will,  no  spirit  can  move.  He  who 
fears  God,  has  no  fear  of  spirits ;  under 
His  wings,  what  can  we  be  afraid  of? 
When  young,  I  had  such  feelings ;  to  get 
over  them  I  forced  myself,  at  night,  step 
after  step, — alone,  but  my  heart  fortified 
with  confidence  in  God, — into  places  where 
my  imagination  built  for  me  the  greatest 
apprehensions  of  fear.  At  last  I  have  be- 
come so  assured  and  bold  that  darkness 
and  the  solitude  of  night  are  to  me  a  source 
of  pleasure,  because  of  that  affectionate 
presence  of  God  which  is  enjoyed  above 
all  in  solitude.  The  good  angels  surround 
us  like  so  many  armed  soldiers.  His  truth 
shall  compass  thee  with  a  shield  ;  thou  shalt 
not  be  afraid  of  the  terror  of  the  night. 

"This  assurance  is  gained  by  degrees, 
according  as  the  grace  of  God  increases  in 
you ;  for  grace  begets  confidence,  and  con- 
fidence is  never  confounded." 


AVE   MARIA. 

^  €ix\M\c  goutnal,  Amid  ta  the  fianot  of  the  ^\md  f  irjia 


Vol,  V. 


NOTRE  DAME.  INDIANA,   MAY  22,  1869. 


Ho.  21. 


May-Mossoms  Promise  Frnit. 


Our  beautiful  May, 
As  It  presses  away, 

Now  scatters  its  blossoms  around; 
And  the  petals  from  trees, 
Blown  off  by  the  breeze, 

Heap  up  with  sweet  litter  the  ground. 

The  leaves  green  and  bright, 
Springing  forth  to  the  light, 

Defend  of  young  fruit  the  new  form ; 
Fragrance  breaths  through  the  air, 
As,  renewing  his  care, 

Man  striyes  to  protect  it  from  storm. 

And  that  promise  of  fruit 
Springing  up  from  the  root. 

How  he  watches  to  shield  it  from  blight  1 
While  those  blossoms  so  gay, 
Now  fading  away. 

Are  still  glowing  with  Hope's  borrowed  light. 

Yet  it  needs  but  one  night        ♦ 
All  those  visions  to  blight. 

All  those  hopes  in  one  moment  to  shatter : 
As  one  sharp  springing  breeze, 
While  rustling  the  trees. 

All  those  gay -colored  petals  may  scatter. 

The  promise  of  youth. 
In  its  seeking  for  truth, 

Too  oft  brings  but  torture  to  share; 
Dark  shadows  are  round  us. 
Deep  sorrows  have  bound  us. 

Ere  we  learn  how  to  grapple  with  care. 

And  the  highest  in  worth, 
In  this  struggle  of  Earth, 

But  partake  all  the  deeper  of  this, 
As  Mary's  great  grace 
But  impelled  her  to  trace 

'Neath  the  Cross  her  sure  fbotsteps  to  bliss. 

'Neath  the  Cross  to  learn  the  road  to 
bliss  I     Is  this  the  teaching  of  the  month 


of  Mary?  The  month  of  flowers  and  foli- 
age, of  singing  birds  and  pleasant  skies? 
Ah,  yes !  The  cross  is  still  man's  highest 
good  on  earth,  and  only  'neath  the  shadows 
of  its  suffering  can  virtue  spring,  can  the 
blossoms  put  forth  by  the  sweet  month  of 
Mary  ripen  into  fruit !  What  is  the  value 
of  an  untried  power?  what  is  the  strength 
of  that  goodness  which  has  never  been  as- 
sailed? what  the  value  of  that  opinion 
which  has  never  been  combatted?  Since 
the  day  that  our  mother  Eve  plucked  the 
fruit  of  knowledge  from  the  forbidden  tree, 
experience  has  been  the  most  effectual 
teacher  on  earth ;  and  experience,  I  need 
hardly  say,  is  a  very  rude  teacher. 

The  trials  of  life  are  severe  to  every  one : 
but  nail  them  to  the  cross,  and  stand  be- 
neath that  cross  with  the  Virgin  Mother, 
and  they  ripen  into  virtues.  May  flowers 
become  summer  fruits ;  the  storm  of  pas- 
sion is  hushed  in  the  presencfi  of  the  God- 
man  suffering,  in  the  presence  of  the 
Mother  of  humanity  to  sanctify  it.  Ah, 
bring  your  May-blossoms  hither,  ye  who 
hope  such  great  things  from  talent  or 
from  genius.  Let  the  dew  of  the  Cross 
fall  upon  your  aspirations, — while  the 
steadfastness  of  grace,  as  manifested  in  her 
who  stood  beneath  the  cross  and  fainted 
not,  inspires  your  human  nature  with  a 
like  fortitude. 

May-blossoms !  Were  there  ever  blos- 
soms equal  in  beauty  to  those  shown  forth 
by  the  God-man,  as  He 
infancy  to  childhood,  throi 
to  manhood?  And,  to  nlJlMiman, 
these  blossoms  were  scattc 
when  to  the  ignominious  ci 
of  the  world  was  nailed. 

But  Mary  stood,  and  fainte" 


322 


AVE      MARIA. 


knew  the  fragrance  of  those  blossoms  was 
thus  conveyed  to  every  land  on  earth.  She 
knew  that  this  holocaust  of  burning  love 
was  the  proper  fruit  of  the  promise ;  her 
aspiration  was  fulfilled  even  while  it  seemed 
to  be  annihilated ;  her  second  Jiat  co-oper- 
ated, corresponded,  no  less  than  the  first, 
with  the  designs  of  Heaven.  To  the  earth,  all 
seemed  lost ;  to  Mary,  all  seemed  gained ; 
for  she  understood  what  fruit  it  was  that 
was  to  bless  mankind. 

Human  co-operation  is  needed  to  make 
divine  grace  efficacious ;  and  Mary  repre- 
sented humanity,  sufiering  yet  triumph- 
ant,— accepting  sorrow  as  a  purifying  and 
ennobling  influence :  a  necessary  influence 
if  the  fruit  is  to  realize  the  promise  of  the 
blossom. 

Let  this  real  solution  of  the  month  of 
Mary — namely,  fidelity  of  humanity  to  di- 
vine grace — be  the  lasting  fruit  wo  reap 
from  the  blossoms  of  May. 

M.  A.  Gkll. 


[Translated  from  the  French  for  the  Ave  Mabia.] 
MART  OUR  MODEL. 


ViBGINITY   AND   MaEBIAGE. 

Mary  is  at  the  same  time  virgin  and 
mother;  this  double  glory  is  acknowl- 
edged and  consecrated  by  the  Church. 
Let  us  dwell  on  this  subject  to  seek  in- 
struction from  it. 

Before  the  coming  of  Christ,  virginity 
was  not  held  in  honor  in  Israel  as  it  is  to- 
day in  the  Catholic  Church.  But  Mary, 
enriched  with  singular  graces  and  aspir- 
ing only  to  spiritual  enjoyment,  felt  a  sub- 
lime disgust  for  earthly  pleasures.  A  su- 
perior instinct,  which  she  sought  not  to  ex- 
plain, elevated  her  above  the  vulgar  sen- 
timents of  her  companions;  she  felt  that 
she  was  born  for  something  more  noble 
than  mere  human  affection,  and  she  re- 
soWed  to  love  God  alone :  she  made  a 
vow  to  remain  a  virgin. 

Thus  this  daughter  of  heaven  who  was 
to  become  the  Mother  of  the  King  of  vir- 


tue, and,  herself,  Queen  of  virgins,  inaugu- 
rated a  new  era  of  sanctity  in  which  vir- 
gins were  to  be  the  chosen  of  the  children 
of  God.  Henceforth  virginity  shall  be  a 
glory  among  men  and  a  title  to  the  great- 
est favors  from  heaven.  These  holy  souls, 
more  loved  by  God,  more  dear  to  Mary, 
blessed  among  women,  shall  be  the  most 
happy  on  earth,  and  shall  form  in  heaven 
the  guard  of  honor  of  the  Divine  Lamb,  as 
we  are  told  in  the  Apocalypse.* 

What  are  these  good  for?  murmur  the 
wicked.  To  give  you  an  example  of 
heroic  virtue;  to  bring  up  your  children 
in  the  fear  of  God ;  to  relieve  the  miser- 
ies that  afflict  you  and  that  you  do  not 
know  how  to  console ;  to  pray  to  God  for 
you,  and  to  avert  His  anger  from  your 
guilty  heads  by  a  mysterious  transfer  of 
merit.  You  sow  corruption ;  they  are  the 
salt  which  preserves  the  earth, — their  vir- 
tues are  a  counterbalance  to  your  crimes, 
and  you  will  owe,  perhaps,  your  salvation 
to  them.  Those  who  do  not  understand 
this  doctrine  have  no  faith,  but  all  our 
readers  are  of  the  number  of  believers. 

O,  you  who  feel  in  your  hearts  a  holy 
desire  of  virginity !  angels  of  the  earth, 
whom  the  voice  of  heaven  calls  to  a  more 
perfect  life,  and  whom  Mary  already  con- 
siders her  privileged  daughters,  receive 
with  unutteraWo  joy  the  first  glimmerings 
of  this  divine  vocation.  Be  not  afraid  of 
what  the  world,  condemned  by  Christ,  will 
say.  It  will  blame  you,  and,  perhaps,  des- 
pise you,  as  it  despised  our  Lord  and  His 
most  Blessed  Mother  and  all  the  saints — 
all  those  whom  it  could  not  seduce.  But 
heaven  will  applaud  you ;  the  adorable 
Trinity,  Mary,  the  angels — all  the  elect, 
will  approve  you;  look  at  the  glorious 
company  of  virgins,  who  show  you  their 
crowns,  who  smile  upon  you,  and  who 
reach  to  you  a  helping  hand.  Those  are 
the  only  friends  whose  society  is  worthy 
of  you. 

After  this  holy  vocation,  which  our  Lord 
has  proclaimed  a  privilege  of  heaven,  and 
that  the  apostle  St.  Paul  places  far  above 


*  xiv,  13. 


AVE      MARIA. 


323 


marriage,*  oomes  that  of  maternity,  which 
imposes  great  duties,  and  which  according 
to  the  same  apostle  is  so  meritorious  be- 
fore God. 

Marriage  is  the  Iiappiness  of  the  young 
girl  whom  almighty  God  has  destined  for 
it;  she  sees  before  her  an  era  of  happiness 
which  her  dreams  often  embellish  beyond 
measure.  Providence  permits  this  in  or- 
der to  cover  with  flowers  the  thorns  with 
which  her  path  will  be  strewn,  and  to  for- 
tify with  hope  the  inexperienced  courage 
of  youth.  We  will  not  take  from  her  those 
sweet  illusions ;  but  we  shall  give  her  some 
advice  which  prudence  dictates. 

For  this  same  world,  which  imposes  so 
much  circumspection  for  a  religious  vo- 
cation, often  marricH  with  an  unpardon- 
able recklessness  young  persons  who 
scarcely  know  each  other,  and  who  very 
often,  alas!  were  n<»t  made  to  bo  united 
in  marriage.  Who  thinks  of  consulting 
God,  the  sovereign  Ruler  of  families  and 
of  society,  when  self-interest  sees  riches 
to  be  gained,  or  when  a  foolish  passion 
troubles  the  mind?  Hence  the  many  un- 
happy unions  which  are  no  less  indissol- 
uble than  the  vows  of  religious,  and  which 
the  unfortunate  couples  consider  a  hell  on 
earth. 

It  is  said  in  the  Holy  Scriptures :  "  God 
gives  a  virtuous  woman  to  him  whom  He 
would  recompense."!  ^^  ^^  ^^^  equally 
true  that  He  will  bestow  a  good  husband 
on  a  woman  according  to  His  heart?  It 
is  then  His  divine  providence  that  pre- 
pares marriages,  and  singles  out  spouses 
worthy  of  each  other  and  of  His  care. 

The  Blessed  Virgin,  for  example,  did  not 
think  of  marriage;  but  God  thought  of  it 
for  her,  and  prepared  for  her  the  beautiful 
soul  of  St.  Joseph.  That  illustrious  saint 
was  in  no  haste  to  marry,  and  was  led  to 
determine  on  marriage,  most  probably,  only 
by  the  great  virtue  of  Mary.  Faith  and 
reason  were  alone  consulted,  and  passion 
counted  as  nothing,  in  their  motives.  Such 
is  the  model  of  the  Christian  marriage  1 
How  much  it  is  to  be  desired  that  young 


*  1  Cor.  viL 


f  Eccll.  xxvi,  3. 


persons  would  be  as  wise  In  their  choice ! 
How  much  sorrow  would  they  spare  them- 
selves and  how  much  scandal  would  they 
avoid  ! 

What  happens  when  the  demon  makes 
those  marriages  of  covetousness,  pride,  or 
senseless  passion  ?  In  a  few  mouths  the 
illusion  is  dispelled,  and  leaves  them  for 
the  future  only  frightful  despair:  for 
the  bond  is  eternal.  Sometimes  they  do 
not  limit  themselves  to  tears  and  regrets; 
they  rush  into  dissipation  and  follies,  and 
seek  compensation  in  crimes. 

May  young  Christian  girls  be  more  pru- 
dent than  those  of  the  world,  and  be  guid- 
ed by  the  spirit  of  God  in  a  matter  of  such 
great  importance  I 


The  Caprices  of  Youth. 

Until  the  age  of  fifteen,  Leocadia  wished 
to  be  a  nun ;  it  was  her  fixed  determina- 
tion. She  dressed  all  her  dolls  in  the  re- 
ligious habit;  she  borrowed  the  habit  of 
one  of  the  teachers  in  the  convent,  to  see 
if  she  would  look  well  in  it.  She  con- 
stantly spoke  of  it  to  her  mother,  who 
troubled  herself  unnecessarily  about  such 
talk  and  was  grieved  to  hear  her  speaking 
of  such  a  vocation.  Poor  mother  1  she  pre- 
ferred her  own  pleasure  to  the  happiness  of 
her  child.  The  father  laughed  at  the  whole 
affair,  and  would  say  to  his  wife  : 

"  Let  her  alone ;  if  God  does  not  call 
her  to  such  a  life,  these  ideas  will  change 
of  themselves."     He  was  right. 

When  Leocadia  grew  older,  her  tastes 
and  ideas  changed.  Her  piety  decreased  ; 
her  timidity  and  modesty  disappeared;  she 
became  gay,  talkative,  vain  and  affected. 
She  soon  ceased  to  talk  of  a  religious  life, 
and  began  to  converse  of  the  world  and 
its  pleasures.  One  day  she  said  to  her 
mother  that  it  seemed  to  her  such  happi- 
ness to  have  pretty  little  children.  The 
good  mother  was  extremely  rejoiced  to  hear 
her  daughter  talk  so,  almost  smothered  her 
with  affectionate  embraces,  and  for  full 
two  hours  spoke  to  her  of  the  inexhausti- 
ble happiness  of  the  mother  of  a  family 


324: 


AVE      MARIA 


This  -vras  ever  after  the  favorite  topic  of  all 
her  oon  vers  ation  s,  bo  th  at  home  or  at  school. 

During  the  long  vacations,  this  young 
girl  was  carefully  taught  the  ways  of  the 
world  by  her  mother,  who  skilfully  ma- 
ncBuvred  to  have  her  daughter  appear  to 
advantage  in  society.  She  was  not  long 
in  becoming  wearied  of  school-life  and  to 
sigh  after  the  day  which  should  commence 
the  era  of  happiness  so  eloquently  pictured 
to  her  by  her  foolish  mother.  Her  desires 
were  so  strong  that  she  could  not  conceal 
them,  and  her  glowing  confidences  became 
dangerous  to  her  companions ;  the  good 
Sisters,  therefore,  were  not  inconsolable 
when  the  time  came  for  her  to  leave  the 
school. 

Hardly  returned  to  her  parents,  she 
frightened  them  by  her  imprudent  spirit  and 
her  eagerness  for  pleasure,  so  that  the  same 
good  mother  who  had  opposed  the  pious 
inclinations  was  unable  to  subdue  the  reck- 
less spirit  of  her  daughter.  Leocadia  wanted 
to  please,  and  to  find  a  husband  as  soon  as 
possible.  It  is  thus  that  the  innocent 
dreams  of  the  young  virgin  were  succeeded 
by  the  fantastic  imaginations  of  the  young 
girl  eager  to  be  married. 

Did  this  thoughtless  young  girl  know 
the  grave  duties  of  the  mai-ried  life  ?  Had 
she  meditated  on  them  before  God  ?  Had 
she  ever  thought  of  them?  Not  at  all; 
she  gave  herself  up  rashly  to  an  inclina- 
tion which  seemed  to  promise  happiness. 

Her  father  thought  her  too  young  to 
marry ;  her  mother  thought  it  prudent  to 
hasten  it,  and  she  had  already  chosen  in 
her^mind  an  excellent  party.  But  while 
the  Wther  was  waiting  and  her  mother 
negohating,  the  daughter  had  concluded 
in  her  mind  an  unwise  alliance.  Her  choice 
being  made,  she  was  not  long  in  disclosing 
it  to  her  parents. 

In  vain  they  told  her  that  the  young  man 
with  whom  she  was  foolishly  charmed  had 
neither  fortune  nor  talent  nor  health,  and 
that  there  was  every  likelihood  he  would 
die  in  a  few  years.  She  did  not  try  to  con- 
tradict these  objections;  on  the  contrary, 
she  replied  that  they  seemed  true,  but  that 
her  heart  was  no  longer  free,  and  that  her 


destiny  was  fixed.  In  consequence,  she 
must  abide  by  it. 

Two  years  after,  she  was  a  widow,  with 
two  sickly  children  who  seemed  to  have 
inherited  the  fatal  disease  of  their  father. 
Having  lost  the  esteem  of  her  friends,  she 
found  but  little  pity. 

God  often  punishes  thus  not  only  per- 
sons unfaithful  to  a  holy  vocation,  but  the 
too  worldly  views  and  culpable  motives  with 
which  many  contract  improper  alliances, 
contrary  to  His  designs.  How  many  young 
persons  have  to  regret  their  imprudence  ! 
and  how  many  parents  have  to  reproach 
themselves  for  their  avarice  or  ambition  ! 
The  only  marriages  blest  by  heaven  are 
those  contracted  through  holy  motives. 


THE  ROItlAlV  CATACOMBS, 
And  their  Connection  witli  Catliolic  Dogma. 

FROM  THE  GERMAN  OF  REV.  M.  WOLTER,  BT  REV. 
J.  A.  BER6RATH. 

"  Sed  tu  qui  legis,  era  pro  me  et  (h)abea8  Domi- 
num  protcctorem," — Catacombs  of  PorUianus. 
ix. 

The  veneration  of  the  saints  in  the  apos- 
tolic Church  was  therefore  a  matter  not 
only  of  private,  but  also  oi public  worship. 

To  prove  this  assertion  by  adducing  un- 
doubted historical  and  most  ancient  testi- 
monies was  the  principal  object  of  this  our 
disquisition.  Let  us  now  finish  this  por- 
tion of  our  essay  by  adducing  yet  another 
argument.  Just  as  it  is  at  present,  so  from 
the  very  earliest  days  of  Christendom  it 
was  customary  to  speak  of  life  in  heaven 
as  the  life  proper,  thus  distinguishing  it 
from  that  which  we  call  life  here  upon 
earth.  In  accordance  with  this  custom 
the  day  of  one'«  death  was  known  among 
those  early  Christians  as  the  day  of  his 
birth  proper.  It  was,  in  fact,  looked  upon 
as  the  only  day  of  any  importance  among 
them.  There  are  thousands  of  inscriptions 
found  on  the  tombs  of  that  period,  in 
which  this  day  alone  is  mentioned,  and 
7iot  even  the  year  is  alluded  to  in  which  the 


AVE      MARIA 


325 


death  occurred.  In  the  case  of  saints  and 
martyrs,  these  birthdays  unto  eternity  were 
moreover  noted  down  in  the  calendar,  or 
martyrology,  for  the  purpose  of  afterwards 
commemorating  publicly  the  feast  of  their 
departure  from  this,  and  their  entrance  in- 
to another  and  better,  world.  These  birth- 
days, therefore,  furnish  us  with  the  dates 
on  which  the  feast  of  this  or  that  martyr 
or  saint  teas  celebrated.  Indeed,  there  are 
many  inscriptions  that  refer  to  them  as  to 
so  many  well-known  and  official  dates. 
Thus:  "Hereresteth  Vitalis,  the  miller; 
.  .  .  he  was  deposited  in  peace  on  <Ae6tV^A- 
day  of  Lady  Soteres.''  NATALE  DOM- 
NES  SITIKETIS.  (Feb.  10th).  "Here 
sleepeth  Principalis,  ....  deposited 
on  the  birthday  of  Sixtm.''  NATALE 
SVSTI.  (Aug.  6th).  "  Pecorius,  the  most 
dear  one,  entered  the  cemetery  on  the  9th 
of  July,  and  was  deposited  on  the  follow- 
\ng  feast  of  martyrs.''  DIE  MARTVRO- 
IIV,  i.  e.,  on  the  feast  of  St.  Felicitas  and 
her  sons.  On  occasion  of  these  birth  or 
feast-days  the  faithful  were  accustomed  to 
descend  into  the  crypts,  to  assist  at  the 
Holy  Sacrifice  as  it  was  being  offered  up 
on  the  tomb  of  the  martyr  whose  feast 
happened  to  be  celebrated  on  that  day,  to 
listen  to  the  lives  of  the  holy  martyrs  as 
they  were  read  from  the  martyrology,  to 
sing  hymns  in  praise  of  the  saint  whose 
memory  they  kept  thus  solemnly,  and  to 
receive  the  Blessed  Eucharist  that  had 
been  consecrated  on  the  tomb  of  the  glo- 
rious saint  in  whose  honor  they  were  as- 
sembled. At  the  close  of  such  devotions 
the  more  wealthy  of  the  little  congrega- 
tion made  it  a  practice  to  bring  food  and 
drink,  which,  under  the  name  of  agape,  or 
lovt'-foast,  was  partaken  of  by  all,  after 
which  the  remnants  were  distributed  among 
the  poor.  It  was  also  customary  to  go 
from  the  tomb  of  one  martyr  to  that  of  an- 
other, and,  while  doing  so,  to  partake  of  a 
little  food  at  each  grave,  by  which  action 
it  was  intended  to  symbolize  the  comm,u- 
nion  of  saints  as  taught  in  the  Church. 

z. 

Our   inquiries  in    the   preceding    para- 


graph have  brought  us  to  the  consideration 
of  a  point  which,  in  its  capacity  as  a  purely 
Catholic  custom,  deserves  our  especial  at- 
tention— we  mean  the  veneration  of  relics. 
Setting  aside  all  other  considerations,  even 
the  pious  fear  lest  the  body  of  any  saint 
might  be  dishonored,  the  use  of  precious 
spices  and  ointments,  and  the  solemn  man- 
ner in  which  the  bodies  of  the  martyrs 
were  deposited  in  their  last  resting-places, 
give  us  an  idea  of  the  great  veneration 
entertained  by  the  early  Church  for  the 
relics  or  perishable  remains  of  these  gal- 
lant soldiers  of  Christ.  There  have  been 
found  in  the  catacombs  a  countless  num- 
ber of  phials  filed  with  blood,  cloths,  spon- 
ges and  even  vases  of  earth  that  had 
been  saturated  with  blood  shed  in  the 
cause  of  Christ.  All  of  these  speak  to  us 
in  the  plainest  possible  language  of  the 
pious  care  with  which  the  primitive  Chris- 
tians were  wont  to  collect  the  blood  of  the 
martyrs,  in  order  either  to  deposit  it  with 
the  blessed  remains  to  which  it  belonged, 
or  else  to  "  keep  it  in  their  houses  as  a 
fountain  of  graces  and  blessings  for  them- 
selves and  their  children  "  (St.  Pruden- 
tius).  Hence  it  was  precisely  in  this  hon- 
or which  was  accorded  to  the  relics  of  the 
holy  martyrs,  that  the  ancient  heathens — 
just  as  the  opponents  of  the  Church  do  to- 
day— found  their  greatest  stumbling-block, 
and  showed  their  malice  by  ill-treating 
even  the  lifeless  bodies  of  those  who  had 
died  for  the  faith.  But  for  this  very  rea- 
son the  early  Christians  were  all  the  more 
intent  on  searching  for  and  securing  the 
torn  and  scattered  remains  of  their  holy 
martyrs,  a  practice  which  they  carried  to 
such  lengths  that  even  in  the  very  face  of 
death  they  crowded  around  the  scaffolds 
and  racks,  or  hastened  publicly  into  the 
amphitheatre,  for  the  purpose  of  collecting 
the  sacred  relics  or  possessing  themselves 
of  the  precious  blood  that  had  been  shed 
in  the  cause  of  Christ.  Who  can  think 
without  being  affected  of  those  holy  sis- 
ters, I^axedis  and  Pudentiana,  to  whose 
singularly  heroic  spirit  of  self-sacrifice 
more  than  three  thousand  bodies  of  the 
saints  owe  their  Christian  interment?     Or 


326 


AVE      MARIA 


what  student  of  history  could  help  admir- 
ing the  holy  Pope  Siniplician,  who  on  his 
own  shoulders  carried  more  than  three 
hujidred  i'rom  the  city  to  the  catacombs? 
But  this  loving  care  for  the  holy  remains 
or  relics  of  the  early  martyrs  was  by  no 
means  confined  to  the  simple  desire  that 
they  should  be  honored  with  Christian 
burial.  On  the  contrary,  it  developed  it- 
self into  a  lasting  veneration  or  cultus  of 
the  same.  Over  the  remains  of  these  saint- 
ted  members  of  Christ  there  arose  altars 
and  chapels^  which  were  decorated  with 
paintings,  lamps  and  other  ornaments^ 
while onthe  graves  themselves^oj^er*  were 
strewn,  or  costly  essences  poured  out  as  a 
sweet  perfume,  just  as  to  this  day  the  rel- 
ics on  our  altars  are  enveloped  in  a  cloud 
of  incense. 

We  are  already  acquainted  with  the 
cemetery  of  Lucina,  on  the  Appian  Way. 
Down  into  the  hallowed  silence  of  this 
cemetery  we  are  now  conducted  by  a  large 
and  but  recently  discovered  flight  of  steps, 
at  the  bottom  of  which,  to  the  right,  we 
reach  a  finely  proportioned  gallery.  Here, 
as  by  instinct,  we  halt  before  a  tomb  that 
is  built  after  the  manner  of  a  sarcophagus, 
and  on  the  large  marble  slab  of  which  we 
read :  "  To  the  Martyr  and  Bishop^  Corne- 
lius.'''' This  is  the  celebrated  tomb  of  the 
holy  Pope  of  that  name,  whose  head  at  the 
present  day  is  one  of  the  chief  relics  that 
are  preserved  like  so  many  precious  treas- 
ures in  the  so-called  Corneli-minster  near 
Aix-la-Chapelle.  Immediately  before  this 
tomb  there  stands  a  dwarfed  marble  pillar, 
about  three  feet  high  and  considerably  ex- 
cavated from  the  top.  The  basin  thus 
formed  in  the  pillar  served  as  a  receptacle 
for  a  vase,  or  wide  bowl,  filled  with  balsam- 
ic nard,  on  the  surface  of  which,  in  honor 
of  the  saint,  there  floated  by  means  of  a 
small  bit  of  papyrus  a  constantly  burning 
tjiper.  Remnants  of  similar  pillars,  or 
niches  evidently  built  with  a  view  to  serve 
the  same  purpose, — nay,  even  fragments  of 
the  bowls  used  on  such  occasions,  and  still 
quite  saturated  with  oil, — have  been  found 
near  the  graves  of  most  of  the  principal 
martyrs.     It   was  of  this  sweet-smelling 


oil  that  the  early  Christians  were  in  the 
habit  of  preserving  a  greater  or  less  por- 
tion in  little  flasks  or  metallic  tubes,  and 
the  oil  thus  kept  was  used  by  them  with 
the  greatest  confidence  in  cases  of  sickness, 
or  else  preser\'ed  as  aprecioiis  relic  of  the 
saint  from  whose  altar  it  had  been  ob- 
tained ;  for  during  this  period  the  bones 
of  the  saints  wer<;  not  yet  appropriated  by 
any  one,  but  left  undisturbed  in  their  rest- 
ing-places. Although  deserving  of  a  full- 
er notice,  yet  for  want  of  space  we  pass 
on,  simply  mentioning  the  two  following 
facts  that  have  been  fully  elicited  by  a 
more  thorough  study  of  the  catacombs. 
First,  it  is  well  known  that  the  Christians 
of  Rome,  even  so  far  back  as  the  first  cen- 
tury, defended  as  their  most  precious  treas- 
ures the  bodies  of  the  two  apostle-princes, 
SS.  Peter  and  Paul,  against  the  fancied 
claims  of  the  Oriental  Christians  who  de- 
manded their  extradition.  Se«ondly,  it  is 
a  matter  of  history  that  the  schismatic 
Novatiaiu,  not  having  the  body  of  a  mar- 
tyr over  which  they  could  celebrate  the 
holy  sacrifice  of  the  Mass,  forcibly  abduct- 
ed from  the  catacombs  of  Maximus  the 
body  of  St.  Silanus,  the  youngest  son  of 
St.  Felicitas.  We  shall  add  but  two  more 
testimonies  in  favor  of  the  veneration  of 
relics  as  observed  in  the  early  Church. 
The  first  of  these  manifests  itself  in  the 
pious  emulation  that  existed  in  the  prim- 
itive Church  to  be  deposited  over,  or  near, 
the  remains  of  some  holy  martyr,  which 
privilege  was  not  seldom  awarded,  even  in 
cases  where  most  valuable  paintings  had 
to  be  interfered  with  in  order  to  make 
room  for  the  new  grave.*  The  second 
testimony  or  proof  is  furnished  us  by  the 


*  This  pious  custom  is  most  excellently  explained 
by  SL  Ambrose,  in  the  inscription  which  he  placed 
on  his  brother's  tomb,  viz : 

"  Thus  are  jrewarded  our  Saints ;  the  blood  that 

was  shed  for  religion 
Moistens  the  neighboring  tomb  as  witli  dewdrops 
from  heaven." 
St.  Chrysostom  also  refers  to  the  same  point  when 
he  says :  "  Not  only  the  bones  of  the  martyrs  but 
also  their  graves  and  shrines,  are  fUll  of  benedic- 
tions." 


AVE      MARIA. 


327 


nnracrous  reliquaries  found  in  the  graves 
of  the  catacombs.  These  reliquaries  are 
small  cases  in  which  were  preserved  at 
first  only  objects  that  had  touched  the  sa- 
cred relics,  but  in  which,  at  a  subsequent 
date,  the  relics  proper  of  the  saints  came 
to  be  preserved  with  the  view  thus  to  ob- 
tain the  more  efficient  protection  of  the 
saint  whose  remains  were  thus  confidently 
honored.  As  nyiy  be  seen  from  little  rings 
or  catches  attached  to  these  cases,  it  was 
a  favorite  custom  of  those  days  to  wear 
them  suspended  around  the  neck  ;  and,  so 
far  as  our  investigations  support  us,  it 
eeems  that  beginning  with  the  fourth  cen- 
tury they  were  chiefly  shaped  in  the  form 
of  a  cross. 

{to  bb  continued.] 


MATER    DOLOROSA: 


Mary  Sorrowing. 

There  is  something  truly  pathetic  in 
David's  expression  of  his  heartfelt  grief 
for  the  death  of  his  life-long  enemy,  Saul, 
and  his  friend — "amiable  to  him  above 
the  love  of  women," — Jonathan,  which  is 
scarcely  equalled  by  the  sublimely  sorrow- 
ful outpourings  of  his  paternal  heart  on 
the  news  of  the  death  of  his  son,  Absalom. 
But  there  is  a  world  of  contrast  between 
the  grief  of  the  royal  prophet  and  that  of 
the  Mother  of  Sorrows.  David  found  an 
outlet  for  his  anguish  in  words;  Mary's 
anguish  was  simply  unspeakable.  We  lose 
sight  of  David's  sorrow  in  our  admiration 
of  his  eloquent  expression  of  it;  Mary's 
sorrow,  more  eloquent  by  its  very  silence, 
attracts  our  heart  and  enlists  our  sympa- 
thy. Oh,  indeed  if  we  who  "  pass  by  the 
way  attend  and  see  "  we  will  be  convinced 
that  there  "  is  not  any  sorrow  like  unto 
hers."  There  may  be  natures  so  stolid  and 
insensible  as  not  to  be  moved  to  rejoice 
at  another's  happiness,  but  there  are  few 
who  are  not  moved  to  sadness  at  sight  of 
it  in  others.  It  is  a  tribute  which  nature 
seems  to  demand  of  us,  even  against  our 


will ;  and  what  heart  is  so  hard  as  to  refuse 
a  tear  or  sigh  in  sympathy  when  our  own 
sweet  Mother  is  the  object  of  it?  Let  us, 
then,  accompany  her  through  a  few  of 
those  dolors  of  her  mortal  life,  which  cul- 
minated in  that  hour  when  the  sad,  discon- 
solate Mother  turned  away  from  the  sepul- 
chre wherein  reposed  all  that  was  dearest 
to  a  mother's  heart. 

In  speaking  of  Mary,  or  of  any  of  her 
prerogatives,  as  the  object  of  our  devotion, 
we  must  never  lose  sight  of  the  ineffable 
relation  between  her  and  Jesus.  For  it  is 
only  in  view  of  this  relation — because 
Mary  is  the  Mother  of  God,  and  Jesus  is 
her  Son — that  we  offer  her  that  homage 
which  we  pay  her.  While  reflecting  on 
the  present  subject,  it  is  especially  neces- 
sary that  we  bear  in  mind  this  their  inti- 
mate union.  As  Christ  as  God  bad  from 
all  eternity  proceeded  from  the  Father 
alone,  so  did  He,  in  time,  as  man,  take  Ilis 
human  nature  from  Mary  alone.  He  was 
literally  "  flesh  of  her  flesh,  and  bone  of 
her  bone ;"  no  other  mortal  could  claim 
any  part  of  Him.  Aided  by  the  myste- 
rious influence  of  the  Holy  Ghost  only, 
Mary  gave  to  Jesus  a  body  out  of  her  pure 
substance :  so  that  she  is  called,  and  is, 
His  Mother,  by  a  title  more  appropriate 
than  that  by  which  ordinary  women  are 
called  the  mothers  of  the  children  whom 
they  bear.  Never  before  were  two  hearts 
more  perfectly  united;  never  were  two 
pure  souls  so  perfectly  in  accord  as  were  the 
soul  of  Mary  and  the  human  soul  of  her 
Son,  Bearing  these  facts  in  mind,  we 
shall  the  more  readily  understand  how 
the  sprrows  of  the  Man-God  must  have 
touched  a  corresponding  chord  in  His 
Mother's  heart,  and  how  intensely  they 
must  have  been  felt  therein. 

Ifoly  Church,  much  as  she  reveres  the 
memory  of  her  departed  and  glorified  ser- 
vants, bestows  on  her  «aints  no  empty  titles. 
She  designated  them  only  by  those  virtues 
and  distinguishing  characteristics  to  which, 
in  this  life,  they  had  acquired  a  just  and 
well-founded  right.  In  addressing  the 
Holy  Virgin  as  "  Queen  of  martyrs,"  she 
is  moved  by  reasons  similar  to  those  by 


328 


AVE     MARIA. 


which  she  addressed  her  as  the  "  Queen  of 
virgins ;"  and  as  Mary  is  by  pre-eminence 
the  virgin,  the  queen,  the  type  and  model 
of  all  who  aspire  to  that  angelic  virtue,  so 
is  she  by  excellence  the  martyr,  the  queen, 
the  type  and  model  of  all  Cliristians  who 
would  testify  their  love  for  Him,  and  for 
His  doctrines,  who  is  the  "  author  and 
finisher  of  their  faith." 

Yes,  Mary  was  in  the  truest  sense  a  mar- 
tyr, and  one  whose  sufferings  equalled  the 
pain  of  all  the  martyrs  combined.  This 
seems  like  exaggeration.  But  let  us  re- 
flect. "We  know  well  what  effect  sin  has 
in  hardening  the  heart,  and  rendering  it 
insensible  to  the  ordinary  pains  of  life.  In 
fact,  suffering  is  in  a  direct  ratio  to  the 
mode  of  life,  according  as  it  has  been  good 
or  bad.  Have  we  not  seen  people  ren- 
dered, by  their  dissolute,  sinful  habits,  im- 
pervious and  indifferent  to  hardships, 
which,  if  they  had  not  fallen  from  their 
high  estate  of  purity  and  innocence,  would 
have  crushed  them  beneath  their  weight  of 
disgrace  and  shame?  In  the  Holy  Vir- 
gin's case — her  supremely  delicate  sensi- 
bilities were  never  weakened  or  blunted 
by  sin ;  her  tender  compassion  for  the 
miseries,  the  sorrows,  and  even  the  incon- 
veniences of  others,  as  shown  at  the  mar- 
riage feast  in  Cana,  was  never  impaired 
by  contact  with  the  world  of  sin.  She 
was  conceived  without  stain ;  the  days  of 
her  girlhood — spent  in  the  quiet  seclusion 
of  the  temple — were  scarce  passed  when 
she  became  the  legal  wife  of  Joseph,  the 
mystic  spouse  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  the 
Virgin  Mother  of  the  Incarnate  Word. 
From  the  moment  that  the  angelic  choirs, 
surrounding  the  crib  in  the  rock-hewn 
stable,  intoned  their  ^^  Gloria  in  excelsis^^^ 
until  the  Easter  morning  thirty-three  years 
after,  she  suffered,  in  every  moment  of  her 
life,  a  new  martyrdom.  She  had  an  inti- 
mate knowledge  of  all  the  trying  ordeals 
her  Child  should  have  to  pass  through  in 
His  self-imposed  task  of  redeeming  man; 
and  just  as  the  entire  weight  of  a  ball  or 
globe  is  concentrated  at  that  point  where 
it  touches  or  rests  on  a  plane,  so  did  the 
entire  trials,  pains  and  privations  of  those 


thirty-three  long  years  in  her  Son's  life 
concentrate  themselves  in  each  success- 
ive moment  of  His  Mother's  existence. 
What  marvel,  then,  that  whether  asleep 
or  awake,  whether  in  contemplation  or  en- 
gaged in  her  ordinary  household  duties, 
whether  in  the  society  of  her  few  friends 
or  pouring  forth  her  soul  in  prayer,  those 
terrible  scenes  which  beset  her  loved  One's 
path  were  ever  present  to  her?  But  when 
she  presented  Him  in  the  temple,  and 
when  the  holy  old  Simeon,  taking  his  in- 
fant God  in  his  arms,  pronounced  that  re- 
markable prophecy:  "  And  thine  own 
soul  a  sword  shall  pierce,"  then  indeed, 
and  in  earnest,  her  life-long  martyrdom 
began.  Again,  if  we  follow  her  from  the 
temple,  we  find  her  on  her  way  to  Egypt, 
a  fugitive  and  exile  by  the  command  of 
God  Himself.  From  behind  her  the  wail- 
ing of  the  mothers  of  Bethlehem,  over  the 
wholesale  massacre  of  their  innocents,  is 
borne  to  her  ears  on  the  cold  breeze  of 
night;  while  before  her  lie  the  trackless  des- 
ert wastes,  where  so  many  of  her  ancestors 
found  a  tomb  during  their  wanderings  af- 
ter they  had  escaped  from  bondage  in  that 
hostile  land  in  which  she  is  now  about  to 
seek  a  shelter  and  an  asylum  from  the  jeal- 
ousy of  one  of  her  own  country's  rulers. 

"Who  is  not  touched  with  sympathy  for 
the  holy  Mother,  on  reading  that  when 
in  His  twelfth  year,  on  their  return  from 
Jerusalem,  she  found  she  had  lost  her  boy, 
"  His  father  and  she  sought  Him  for  three 
days  sorrowing?"  But  who  may  tell  the 
pangs  of  that  maternal  heart  during  the 
remaining  eighteen  years  of  great  seclu- 
sion in  Nazareth?  Everything  pointed  to 
the  future.  Even  the  humble  artizan  trade, 
in  which  her  husband  and  her  Son  employed 
themselves  to  earn  a  support — even  it, 
with  its  hammer  and  nails,  and  rough  un- 
hewn wood — was  terribly  suggestive  of 
scenes  to  be  enacted  at  a  future  day.  If 
from  her  humble  home  she  looks  towards 
the  "  city  of  David,"  those  three  crosses 
with  their  victims  loom  up  before  her. 
At  length,  when  her  Son  went  forth  from 
her  a  wanderer,  not  "  having  whereon  to 
rest  His   head,"   and    when   His    earthly 


AVE      MARIA. 


329 


career  was  drawing  to  a  close,  then  did 
her  sorrows  increase  in  intensity.  Know- 
ing well  that  He  merits  them  as  never 
did  man  before,  her  mother's  heart  draws 
some  little  consolation  from  the  ap- 
plause with  which  the  people  receive 
Him,  and  from  the  praise  bestowed  on 
Himself  and  His  teaching;  but  again  her 
cup  is  dashed  with  ])itterness  when  she 
reflects  that  those  same  people  will  one 
day  make  the  air  resound  with  quite  dif- 
ferent acclamations.  Soon  she  hears  He 
has  been  betrayed  by  one  of  His  own 
disciples,  that  He  is  held  a  prisoner  in  the 
hands  of  His  enemies,  and  that  His  follow- 
ers have  abandoned  Him.  How  her  heart 
yearns  to  fly  to  Him,  to  console  Him  ;  yet 
she  knows  He  is  again  "  about  His  Father's 
business,"  and  she  is  resigned. 

We  pass  over  the  indignities  to  which 
she  beheld  Him  subjected,  as  we  do  the 
meeting  during  the  procession  up  the  hill 
of  Calvary,  the  stripping,  the  fastening  to 
the  cross,  and  those  other  preparations  for 
the  execution,  which  few  mothers  could 
look  upon  without  emotion.  What  mother 
could  listen  to  the  sounds  of  the  hammer 
driving  the  long,  rough  nails  through  the 
feet  and  hands  of  her  Son,  without  having 
her  very  heart  torn  with  anguish?  If 
ordinary  sinful  mothers  are  carried  away 
in  a  state  of  frenzy  or  insensibility  from 
the  final  interview  with  their  criminal 
sons,  before  expiating  the  crimes  and  ex- 
cesses of  a  life  which  was  a  disgrace  to  the 
mothers  who  bore  them,  what  must  we 
suppose  to  have  been  the  anguish  of  Mary 
when  she  beheld  her  Son,  after  three  hours 
of  unutterable  agony,  expire  on  the  cross? 
A  pagan  writer  has  said  that  "  to  have  the 
same  desires  and  the  same  aversions  is  in- 
deed the  finest  bond  of  friendship ;" — never, 
however,  could  this  have  been  more  fully 
realized  than  in  the  case  of  Jesus  and 
Mary.  He  loved  and  honored  His  Mother 
as  the  dutiful  son  ought  to  love  and  honor 
his  parents ;  with  all  a  mother's  deep  abid- 
ing aflVsction,  she  loved  Him  as  her  only 
Son,  she  worshipped  Him  as  her  God. 
This  Son,  then,  the  very  perfection  of 
manly  beauty  and  human  comeliness,  "  in 


whom  the  plenitude  of  the  divinity  dwelt 
corporally,"  this  Son  the  sad  Mother  be- 
holds,— for  no  other  crime  than  that  "  He 
loved  the  world  " — wrestling  in  the  agony 
and  throes  of  His  death-struggle.  She 
beholds,  too,  the  very  people  for  whom 
His  life's  blood  is  fast  ebbing  on  the  cross, 
and  whom,  all  His  life-long,  He  yearned  to 
save,  revile  and  reproach  Him  whom  she 
knows  to  be  the  very  perfection  of  inno- 
cence and  gentleness  and  love.  All  this 
was  hard  and  cruel  and  afllicting — but  the 
sacrifice  was  not  yet  complete.  When  the 
soldier,  snatching  the  spear,  inhumanly 
plunged  it  into  the  now  pulseless  heart  of 
her  beloved  Son,  the  sudden  pang  that 
caused  her  very  nerve  to  quiver  proved 
that  Simeon's  prophecy  was  now  at  length 
fulfilled:  the  sword  of  sorrow  had  indeed 
pierced  her  inmost  core,  and  nothing  but 
a  miracle  prevented  her  pure  spirit  from 
winging  its  way  in  company  with  His  to 
whom  in  death  as  in  life  she  had  been  in- 
timately united.  After  this,  the  receiving 
Him  from  the  cross  and  the  subsequent 
interment — agonizing  though  they  were, 
could  add  but  little  of  pain  to  a  heart  al- 
ready seared  with  so  great  sorrow. 

All  those  dolors  of  Mary  were  natural, 
but  voluntary, — just  as  the  sufferings  of 
Jesus  were  natural,  but  voluntarily  un- 
dertaken. She  was  as  yet  perhaps  the 
only  one  who  knew  with  what  designs 
God  permitted  wicked  men  to  persecute 
His  Christ.  She  knew  that  His  sacrifice 
was  necessary  in  order  to  restore  peace 
between  God  and  man.  Therefore,  as  much 
out  of  love  for  us  as  out  of  obedience  to 
the  will  and  commands  of  God — who  had 
given  her  the  "  Son  of  the  promise  " — she 
was  prepared — like  Abraham  of  old — freely 
to  devote  her  Son  as  a  sacrifice  to  God  on 
the  altar  of  the  cross.  Not  only  di<i  she 
offer  Him  to  God  in  expiation  of  the  sins  of 
the  world,  but  she  sacrificed  herself  with 
Him  mystically,  thus  adding  her  immense 
though  finite  merits  to  the  immeasurable, 
infinite  merits  of  Jesus. 

Need  we  any  further  proof  of  that  trite 
saying:  "  Whom  God  loveth  He  chastis- 
eth"?    That,  with  thy  example  before  us 


330 


AVE      MARIA. 


"  suffering  with  Christ,  we  may  be  also 
glorified  with  Him" — "  Queen  of  martyrs, 
pray  for  us."  C.  McC. 


-ii»-»-  ♦  « » 


The  Papal  Fetes  in  the  Eternal  City— An 
Impressive  Spectacle. 

The  earliest  account  we  have  of  the 
fiftieth  Anniversary  of  the  Holy  Father's 
first  Mass  is  from  the  correspondent  of  that 
intensely  anticatholic  paper,  the   London 

Times  : 

"Rome,  April  13. 
"The  triduum  oi  fetes  terminated  last  night,  and 
I  must  encroach  on  your  space  to  describe  such 
spectacles  as  Rome  has  never  seen  before,  certainly 
never  on  an  occasion  similar  to  that  which  called 
them  forth.  The  Pope  disappeared  immediately 
after  the  Mass  on  Sunday ;  indeed,  he  went  to  one 
of  the  grand  salles  of  the  Vatican,  where  a  refection 
had  been  provided  for  the  most  distinguished  per- 
sons present  at  the  ceremony.  About  800  or  900 
had  been  invited  to  partake  of  tea,  coflfee,  chocolate, 
and  all  those  varieties  of  pastry  and  sweets  they 
know  so  well  how  to  get  up  here.  Three  tables 
were  laid,  at  one  of  which  sat  the  Pope,  the  ex- 
king  and  queen  of  Naples,  the  count  of  Trapani,  I 
believe  the  Grand  Duke  Vladimer,  and  other  for- 
eign princes  and  men  of  note.  At  the  other  two 
tables  were  placed  the  cardinals  and  superior  em- 
ployes, a  crowd  of  chamberlains  in  their  elegant 
medio  Spanish  costume  of  black  velvet,  and  many 
of  lesser  grade  stood.  His  Holiness  was  very  merry, 
and  laughed  and  talked  much,  principally  with  the 
last  of  the  Bourbons,  and  after  remaining  with  his 
guests  an  hour  rose  and  left.  In  the  afternoon 
there  was  a  reception  of  about  2,000  persons,  when 
addresses  were  presented  and  read,  by  which  the 
Pope  was  much  gratified  and  evidently  affected. 
As  evening  approached  the  scene  changed,  and 
not  only  all  Home,  but  all  the  inhabitants  of  the 
Roman  States,  thronged  down  to  St.  Peter's,  to 
offer  the  homage  of  their  respect  to  the  pontiff. 
It  was  not  an  assemblage  merely  of  fine  ladies  and 
gentlemen  who  had  come  in  dashing  equipages  to 
gaze  upon  a  spectacle,  but  of  all  classes,  and  es- 
pecially of  the  peasants  in  the  varied  and  pretty 
costumes  of  Albano  and  Frascati,  of  Qenzano  and 
Nettuno,  and  a  host  of  other  places.  What  a  scene 
it  was  for  an  artist !  Seven  bands  played  in  harmony, 
and  a  hymn  of  congratulation,  composed  expressly 
for  the  occasion  by  Gounod,  the  author  of  "  Faust," 
was  sung.  First,  it  was  sung  in  a  piano-forte  tone, 
then  with  a  band  accompaniment,  and  lastly  was 
taken  up  and  repeated  by  a  mass  of  voices,  thus 


growing  and  swelling  upon  the  car  in  a  most  de- 
licious and  effective  style.  On  the  conclusion  of 
the  hymn  the  Pope  appeared  at  one  of  the  side 
windows,  and  gave  his  benediction  to  a  large  mass 
of  persons.  The  tops  of  the  colonnades  were 
crowded,  so  were  the  windows  of  the  distant  houses, 
and  not  merely  the  piazza,  but  the  streets  leading 
into  it  were  choked.  May  I  say  that  there  were 
40,000  people  present?  I  really  think  so,  and  a 
most  imposing  sight  it  was.  Then  they  all  galloped 
and  bustled  off  to  sec  the  Girandola  on  San  Pietro, 
in  Montorio  or  Monte  d'Oro,  to  be  somewhat  pe- 
dantic. Usually  it  has  been  on  the  Pincio;  but, 
for  some  reason  or  other,  this  site  has  been  aban- 
doned. Yet  its  distance  seemed  to  produce  no 
effect  on  the  hunters  after  novelties.  Seats  were 
erected,  and  35,000  tickets  were  sold.  Some  of 
the  effects  of  the  fireworks  were  magnificent, 
especially  the  first,  when  a  temple  of  light  grew 
out  of  the  darkness,  and  a  shower  of  stars  of  all 
colors  was  discharged  into  the  upper  air.  The 
whole  terminated  with  a  complimentary  inscrip- 
tion to  the  Pope  in  characters  of  blazing  light — 
'Pio  IX.  P.  M.,  S.  P.  Q.  R.  11  Ap.  MDCCCLXIX. 
Vota  omnium.'  Yesterday  we  had  a  review  of  the 
papal  troops  in  the  Borghese  gardens.  Again 
Gounod's  hymn  was  sung,  and  so  that  scene  passed 
away,  and  expectation  was  on  the  alert  for  the 
evening.  To  say  that  the  city  was  one  blaze  of 
light  is  but  the  naked  truth.  There  were,  how- 
ever, beautiful,  curious  and  most  effective  -devices ; 
there  were  fountains  of  fire  and  gardens  of  fire, 
brilliant  transparencies  of  the  Pope ;  the  fa9ades  of 
some  of  the  churches,  of  the  Minerva  especially, 
were  very  striking.  I  drove  round  every  part  of 
Rome  and  saw  nothing  finer  than  the  grand  old 
mausoleum  of  Adrian,  above  which  a  large  sun 
shed  its  rays,  casting  its  reflection  on  the  waters  of 
the  Tiber;  than  the  column  of  Trajan,  the  storied 
sides  of  which  were  brought  distinctly  into  view 
by  concealed  red  lights  in  the  forum  beneath ;  than 
the  group  of  the  fountain,  in  Piazza  Navona,  where 
every  figure  was  thrown  out  in  bold  relief  by  the 
same  concealed  and  mysterious  agency.  Every 
obelisk  in  Rome,  too,  pointed  its  luminous  needle 
to  the  sky,  and  no  finer  point  of  observation  was 
there  than  from  the  bottom  of  the  Via  Condotti, 
from  which,  on  looking  back,  was  seen  the  obelisk 
on  the  summit  of  the  steps  of  Trinita  di  Monte,  to 
the  right  of  the  obelisk  in  the  Piazza  del  Popolo, 
and  to  the  far  left  the  brilliant  and  gigantic  cross 
above  the  capitol ;  and  so  terminated  the  fete*  in 
honor  of  the  jubilee  of  Pius  IX. 

"Rome  has  never  witnessed  a  finer,  whether  as 
regards  mere  spectacle  or  moral  grandeur,  for  the 
fact  that  gave  rise  to  them  was  that  a  venerable 
old  man  was  celebrating  the  50th  anniversary  of 


AVE      MARIA. 


331 


the  great  event  of  his  life.  All  the  circumstanccB, 
too,  have  been  most  favorable.  Two  days  before 
the  fetes  the  weatlier,  wliich  had  made  every  native 
and  resident  ashamed  of  Italy,  cleared  up,  and 
burst  upon  us  with  all  the  glories  of  summer.  Not 
an  accident  has  occurred,  not  a  disaster  has  to  be 
reported,  and  one  great  cause  of  this  is  the  admir- 
able order  which  was  maintained,  without  too 
great  a  display  of  the  machinery  by  which  it  was 
effected.  All  the  sovereigns  of  Europe  sent  their 
congratulations,  either  by  autograph  letters  or  by 
special  ministers,  and  some  sent  valuable  presents. 
Our  queen  sent  her  congratulations  by  telegraph. 
Of  the  more  splendid  offerings  I  must  reserve  my 
description,  for  they  are  to  be  exhibited  to-day  and 
to-morrow.  Those  from  the  people,  as  they  have 
arrived,  have  been  placed  on  raised  benches,  or 
counters,  or  on  stalls,  round  the  court  of  the  Papa- 
gallo,  and  another  smaller  court  leading  into  it. 
There  are  a  calf  and  sheep  and  lambs  from  Nettuno, 
and  twelve  rifled  brass  cannon  from  "Catholics, 
Roman  and  foreign."  There  is  grain  from  Men- 
tana,  and  linen  from  the  "  Israelitish  University  of 
Rome."  And  there  are  oxen,  and  Etruscan  vases, 
ancient  and  motlern  imitations,  raw  silk,  brigand 
hats,  macaroni,  and  copper  boilers,  wine  in  abund- 
ance, potatoes  and  charcoal,  artichokes,  nuts,  and 
apples,  corn  and  sausages  and  oil — I  put  them 
down  as  tliey  come — and,  in  short,  a  host  of  other 
articles  of  agricultural  and  industrial  produce." 


^  »  »  «  » 


A  T*r  N  A.  IL.  8 

OF  OUR  LiDY  OF  THE  SACRED  HEART. 


Oceanica. 


Our  Lady  of  the   Sacred  Heart   and 

THE  CoKVERSION  OF  Ea8TER  IsLAND, 

called  tub  island  of  tliieves. 
[concluded.] 

Upon  the  information  given  by  Brother 
Eugene,  who  after  a  sojourn  of  nine 
months  in  Easter  Island  departed  safe  and 
sound,  the  Religious  of  the  Sacred  Hearts 
prepared  to  go  and  preach  the  gospel  to  these 
poormen,and  Brother  Eugene  was  happy  to 
accompany  them.  The  work  was  difficult, 
and  promised  neither  wonders  nor  rapid 
results.  But  what  cannot  be  done  with 
the  powerful  help  of  prayer  and  the  effi- 
cacious protection  of  Mary !  This  was  in 
the  year  1865.  Already  the  name  of  Our 
Lady  of  the  Sacred  Heart  had  crossed  over 
the  seas,  and  many  Catholics  of  Oceanica 


had  welcomed  with  love  this  glorious 
title  given  to  our  good  Mother ;  already 
had  Mgr.  Tepano  Jaussen,  Bishop  of 
Axieri  and  Vicar  Apostolic  of  Tahaiti, 
made  known  in  a  circular-letter  all  the 
hope  which  he  foresaw  would  be  realized 
by  this  new  name  of  Mary  ;  already  had 
the  Religious  of  the  Sacred  Hearts  em- 
braced this  sweet  devotion,  of  which  our 
Annals  have  since  given  consoling  testi- 
mony; it  was  therefore  decided  that  the 
mission  should  be  carried  on  under  the 
auspices  of  Our  Lady  of  the  Sacred  Hearty 
and  that  this  truly  difficult  undertaking 
should  be  commended  in  a  special  manner 
to  the  prayers  of  our  dear  Association. 
We  give  an  extract  from  a  letter  which 
was  written  us,  and  which  we  published 
entire  in  the  Annals  of  1866.  It  is  from 
Rev.  Brother  Ausfride  Schmedding,  a  Re- 
ligious of  the  Sacred  Hearts. 

"The  most  solid  foundation  of  our 
hopes  is  the  happy  choice  which  our  Rev. 
Father  Provincial  has  made  of  Our  Lady 
of  the  Sacred  Heart  as  special  patroness 
of  this  new  mission. 

"  I  am  the  more  rejoiced  that  the  mission 
to  Easter  Island  will  be  among  the  first, 
if  not  the  very  first,  that  has  been  placed 
in  so  special  a  manner  under  the  protection 
of  the  august  Queen  of  the  Sacred  Heart. 
And  this  is  the  claim  I  bring  forward  to 
induce  you.  Rev.  Father,  in  your  truly 
Catholic  charity,  to  recommend  strongly 
this  work  to  the  members  of  your  pious 
Association.  .  .  .  Yes,  Rev.  Father, 
pray  a  great  deal  to  Our  Lady  of  the  Sacred 
Hearty  aiid  soon  you  shall  see  these  poor 
savages  come  forth  from  the  darkness  which 
note  envelops  them,  to  praise  and  glorify, 
with  their  missionaries,  the  most  merciful 
Heart  of  Jesus,  as  vellas  our  sweet  Mother's, 
the  powerful  sovereign  of  that  divine  Hearth 

This  confidence  was  crowned  with  the 
happiest  results,  and  Rev.  Brother  Marie 
Laurent  Cresson,  religious  of  the  Sacred 
Hearts,  promptly  forwarded  the  news  to 
us  at  Issoudun.  "What  should  not  be  said," 
he  wrote  in  a  letter  from  Valparaiso,  Sept. 
3d,  1867,  of  the  conversion  to  our  holy 
faith  of  the  Easter  Island,  confided  to  the 


332 


AVE      MARIA. 


Sacred  Heart  of  Jesus,  to  Our  Lady  of  the 
Sacred  Heart,  and  to  St.  Joseph  !  I  leave 
it  to  the  missionaries  who  are  witnesses 
of  this  prodigy,  and  who  see  an  immense 
harvest  open  to  their  zeal,  in  this  land  so 
long  plunged  in  the  darkness  of  death." 
Since  the  date  of  this  letter  the  success 
of  the  mission  has  been  still  more  striking ; 
the  inhabitants  have  received  with  ever 
increasing  ardor  the  word  of  God;  stealing, 
that  old  habit  of  the  country,  has  disap- 
peared ;  each  and  all  have  restored  ill-gotten 
goods.  "As  a  proof  of  the  sincerity  of 
their  conversion,"  writes  Father  Roussel, 
**  the  inhabitants  of  the  other  end  of  the 
island  have  brought  back  to  us  all  they 
had  stolen  from  Brother  Eugene — some 
dishes  and  planks.  And  yet,  what  a  sacri- 
fice for  thoni !  Those  dishes,  which  they 
wore  suspended  from  their  necks,  made 
such  incomparable  ornaments  !  And  they 
have  given  all  up — journeyingforty  leagues 
in  a  hot  sun,  carrying  the  planks  on  their 
backs.  I  have  seen  assembled  around  the 
same  table  all  the  chiefs  who  but  a  short 
time  ago  were  deadly  enemies.  I  am 
proud  to  proclaim  it, — the  inhabitants  of 
Rapa-nui  (Easter  Island),  whilom  thieves 
and  pillagers,  are  now  the  most  honest  men 
on  the  face  of  the  earth." 

On  the  morning  of  the  16th  of  August, 
1868,  seven  pagans  remained  on  the  island; 
before  evening  they  received  baptism  and 
promised  to  live  according  to  the  holy 
laws  of  religion.  Mary  thus  terminated  her 
noble  conquest ;  all  the  nine  hundred  in- 
habitants of  Easter  Island,  without  a  single 
exception,  were  now  Catholics.  And  this 
is  the  marvellous  result  of  the  first  mission 
preached  in  this  island,  under  the  special 
protection  of  Our  Lady  of  the  Sacred  Heart. 

The  work  was  complete.  The  first  apos- 
tle, the  founder  of  the  mission,  the  dear 
Brother  Eugene  Eyraud,  who  had  sufiered 
so  much  in  the  midst  of  the  infidel  sav- 
ages, was  judged  ripe  for  heaven  ;  ho  had 
merited  his  reward.  At  the  age  of  forty- 
three  he  slept  in  the  Lord,  the  19th  of 
August,  1868,  scarcely  four  days  after  the 
baptism  of  the  last  of  the  infidels.  What  a 
consolation!    Four  years  and  a  half  before. 


he  arrived  on  that  savage  shore,  having 
before  him  only  barbarians,  thieves  and 
pagans;  to-day,  in  that  same  island  ren- 
dered fruitful  by  his  labor,  and  the  witness 
of  his  zeal,  he  can  say  as  he  dies  and 
appears  before  God :  "  Lord,  of  the  nine 
hundred  pagans  amongst  whom  Thou 
didst  send  me,  I  have  not  lost  one  ;  they 
are  all  Catholics,  to  the  very  last." 

Before  quitting  the  isle  of  Patmos,  Saint 
John  saw  the  heavenly  Jerusalem  descend 
before  him :  it  was  the  Church  of  God, 
which  was  to  extend  from  that  island  to 
the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth :  and  he 
saw  a  woman  clothed  with  the  sun  :  it  was 
Mary,  the  protectress  of  the  Church.  Be- 
fore quitting  Easter  Island  to  go  before 
God,  the  Rev.  Bro.  Eugene  also  had  the 
consolation  of  seeing  the  Church  of  Jesus 
Christ  established  in  the  island,  and  the 
mission  of  Our  Lady  of  the  Sacred  Heart 
crowned  with  unparalleled  success. 


<  »  ♦  «  » 


In  connection  with  the  subject  of  Church 
spoliation,  which,  in  these  days,  causes  so 
much  "  tall  talk  "  in  England,  there  is  a  fact 
notgenerallyknown  out  of  Catholic  circles, 
and  of  which  some  of  our  Tory  legislators 
ought  to  be  reminded,  for  theirs  was  the 
party  in  ofiice  when  the  barefaced  robbery 
took  place.  When  the  great  French  revo- 
lution broke  out,  an  immense  deal  of  prop- 
erty belonging  to  the  English  Catholic  col- 
leges and  convents  was  confiscated  by  the 
republican  Government,  and  no  compen- 
sation was  given  for  it  until  some  years  af- 
ter the  restoration  of  the  Bourbons,  when 
a  first  payment  of  five  millions  of  francs 
(£200,000)  was  made  by  the  French  Gov- 
ernment "  on  account."  The  money  was 
handed  over  to  the  English  Government  of 
the  day  to  be  paid  to  tlie  English  Catholic 
bishops.  But  when  the  latter  applied  for 
it  they  were  told  that,  as  it  would  be  used 
for  idolatrous  purposes,  it  would  be  against 
the  laws  of  England  to  give  it  to  them,  and 
the  money  was  finally  applied  towards  pay- 
ing off  the  expenses  incurred  by  th^  Prince 
Regent  in  building  the  Pavilion  at  JBrighton. 
The  story  is  a  true  one,  and  certainly  needs 
no  comment. — London  Register. 


AVE      MA  R  I  A  . 


333 


^\ 


HILDREN'S    #:iEPARTMENT. 


My  BUou. 


The  beautiful  month  of  May  had  come, 
enlivened  by  the  warblings  of  birds,  fes- 
tooned with  garlands  of  flowers,  wafting 
fragrance  on  the  breeze  and  lavishing  on 
all  sides  a  profusion  of  floral  ornaments, 
as  if  expressly  created  to  intensify  poetical 
inspiration.  The  bright  blue-eyed  myrtle, 
the  golden-lipped  violet  and  soft  delicate 
verbenas  of  every  hue  were  springing  up 
from  the  bosom  of  mother  earth,  adding  a 
rich  and  gorgeous  beauty  to  the  verdant 
tapis  which  nature  had  spread  for  this 
festival.  The  morning  rose  clear  and  fine, 
just  enough  of  golden  sunshine  to  trans- 
form the  tears  which  might  have  collected 
on  the  flowers  into  exquisite  jewels,  there- 
by imparting  a  purer  and  more  radiant 
loveliness  to  the  scene.  Light  hazy  clouds 
at  times  flitted  over  the  sun's  disc,  like 
the  fleecy  folds  of  a  bridal  veil,  which 
seemed  to  shade  his  sparkling  brilliancy 
but  to  augment   our  pleasure.     It  was  a 

gala  day  at  L ,  for  "My  Bijou"  was  on 

that  morning  to  approach  the  holy  altar 
for  the  first  time  and  to  be  replenished 
with  the  bread  of  the  strong.  Truly  was 
it  a  day  of  rejoicing — for  she  who  was  so 
lovable,  so  pure,  so  meek  and  so  gentle, 
was  now  to  feed  upon  the  spotless  Lamb, 
and  become  His  virgin  bride,  invited  and 
pressed  by  Him  to  partake  of  this  everlast- 
ing banquet.  During  a  previous  retreat 
she  had  prepared  her  heart  for  this  myste- 
rious union  of  the  soul  with  its  God,  and 
judging  according  to  the  injunction  of  our 
Lord,  "from  the  fruit,  you  shall  know  the 
tree,"  she  indeed  had  entered  into  the 
spirit  of  the  work,  and  had  carefully  pre- 
pared the  chamber  of  her  heart  for  the 
reception  of  the  King  of  kings  and  Lord  of 
lords,  by  adorning  it  with  the  lily  of 
purity,  the  roses  of  love,  the  pink  of  per- 
fection, the  evergreen  of  constancy  and 
the  lowly  violet  of  humility.     With   her 


soul  clothed  in  its  renewed  baptismal  in- 
nocence, and  her  person  arrayed  in  purest 
white,  she  knelt  at  the  foot  of  God's  holy 
altar  resplcndant  in  gold  and  silver,  to 
participate  in  the  sacred  mysteries,  amid 
august  cermony,  by  the  light  of  a  hundred 
tapers ;  soft,  sweet  solemn  music  floating 
on  the  morning  air  freighted  with  the 
perfume  of  the  flowers  and  the  odor  of 
burning  incense,  enchanting  the  senses, 
subduing  the  imagination,  and  affecting 
the  heart.  Sustained  by  her  own  pure  life, 
assisted  by  the  prayers  of  her  companions, 
friends  and  teachers,  encouraged  by  the 
precepts  and  examples  of  every  religions 

virtue  by  the  holy  Community   of  L , 

she  calmly  awaited  the  moment  when  the 
King  of  heaven  would  bow  the  heavens 
and  come  down  into  her  heart.  Devoutly 
did  she  receive  her  honored  Guest,  joyfully 
did  she  welcome  Him,  and  reverently  did 
she  hold  sweet  converse  with  Him.  Time 
flew  by  on  golden  pinions  in  this  extatic 
union  of  the  spirit  with  her  God.  And  no 
doubt  that  then  were  laid  the  foundations, 
deep  and  strong,  of  that  edifice  of  virtue 
she  erected  during  the  few  brief  years  she 
was  left  to  edify  us  by  her  many  bright 
examples  of  piety.  For  truly  did  she 
live  many  years  in  a  short  space,  and  ac- 
complish much  good  in  a  limited  time. 
Though  only  ten  years  of  age,  yet  was  she 
deeply  impressed  with  the  solemnity  of 
this  reception,  and  often  did  she  exclaim, 
"  Oh,  I  was  so  happy  on  the  day  of  my  First 
Communion."  Ere  many  days  elapsed, 
even  during  this  same  month  of  May,  the 
bishop  iniposed  hands  upon  her  to  make 
her  a  strong  and  perfect  Christian :  strong 
to  sufl"er,  patient  to  endure,  and  courage- 
ous to  advance  rapidly  in  the  path  to 
heaven. 

For  six  years  did  "  My  Bijou  "  remain  in 
her  convent  home,  storing  her  mind  with 
every  useful  knowledge,  acquiring  every 
ladylike  accomplishment,  cultivating  the 
fine  arts  (for  she  was  no  inattentive  pupil) ; 
and  above  all  did  she  advance  in  virtue  by 
faithfully  complying  with  every  command, 
thus  making  sweet  honey  from  bitter 
flowers.     Freely  did  she  open  her  heart  to 


334r 


AVE      MARIA. 


the  vivifying  influence  of  divine  grace,  by 
replenishing  her  mind  with  the  precepts 
of  our  holy  religion.  Whenever  anything 
unpleasant  occurred,  her  usual  saying  was: 
"Now  I  must  coin  money  to  purchase 
heaven."  It  was  as  consoling  to  her  teach- 
ers as  it  was  edifying  to  her  companions 
to  behold  the  fervor  depicted  in  her  de- 
meanor while  kneeling  before  the  shrine  of 
our  dear  Mother,  the  Queen  of  angels,  in  the 
gray  twilight  of  evening,  and  there  with 
devout  emphasis  recite  the  Act  of  Consecra- 
tion in  the  name  of  her  classmates,  who 
had  selected  her  for  this  honorable  dis- 
tinction, to  present  their  daily  offering  to 
the  Madonna,  to  walk  at  the  head  of  their 
procession,  to  unfurl  the  standard  of  Mary, 
and  to  chant  litanies  and  canticles  in  her 
praise. 

But  time  arrives,  leading  age  by  the 
hand;  and  "My  Bijou,"  after  graduating 
with  the  usual  literary  honors,  returns  to 
the  bosom  of  her  family,  where  she  con- 
tinues to  be  an  example  of  every  virtue, 
not  alone  to  the  immediate  home  circle, 
but  also  to  the  members  of  the  sodality  and 
to  the  congregation.  'Tis  now  she  turns 
to  profit  her  rare  accomplishments,  and 
adorns  the  altar  with  beautiful  flowers,  the 
work  of  her  skilful  fingers.  Then  she 
forms  a  choir,  and  teaches  them  to  chant  the 
praises  of  God,  becoming  herself  the  organ- 
ist and  leader  of  the  band,  and  thereby  great- 
ly contributing  to  the  solemnity  of  the  relig- 
ious cermonies.  In  these  and  other  works 
of  supererogation  did  she  employ  her  time, 
talents,  and  mental  as  well  as  physical 
attainments. 

In  the  month  of  May  again  do  we  find 
her  before  the  altar;  but  now  the  bridal 
veil  falls  in  rich  voluminous  folds  about 
her  person,  and  a  wreath  of  orange  blos- 
soms circles  her  pure  and  noble  brow ;  and 
again,  too,  the  golden  sunshine  pours 
through  the  windows  and  falls  in  dazzling 
rays  of  mellow  light  on  the  sanctuary's 
mosaics,  creating  an  aureola  of  glory 
around  and  about  her,  and  with  sweet 
witching  melody  sang  her  recently  formed 
choir  for  the  bridal  Mass  on  that  bright 
May  njorn.     If  hitherto  she   bad  been   a 


model  for  youthful  virgins,  she  now  be- 
came, like  Saint  Paula  of  old,  a  fair  mirror 
for  the  mistress  of  every  Christian  house- 
hold. Intuitively  she  seemed  to  know  that 
much  work  had  to  be  accomplished  in  a 
short  time,  and  hence  it  behooved  her  to 
redouble  her  diligence  in  the  service  of 
God  and  her  neighbors.  She  suspended 
around  her  dwelling  the  flowers  of  every 
matronly  virtue,  like  those  honeysuckles  of 
the  forest  which  adorn  the  rough  trunk  of 
the  oak  with  their  perfumed  garlands. 
She  comforted  the  afllicted,  sympathized 
with  the  distressed,  assisted  the  sick,  tak- 
ing her  station  like  a  mother  beside  the 
fevered  child,  rocking  it  to  sleep  in  her 
arms,  soothing  and  refreshing  it  with  the 
cooling  beverage  of  hope,  and  lulling  it  to 
rest  by  her  magic  strains.  Thus,  in  works 
of  kindness  and  of  love,  in  deeds  of  affec- 
tion and  of  piety,  in  actions  of  mercy  and 
benevolence,  time  imperceptibly  glides  by, 
as  flows  the  gentle  rivulet  sweetly  singing 
on  its  meandering  way  to  the  sea,  till 
another  May  morn  is  ushered  in,  and  "  My 
Bijou"  is  dying! 

The  angel  of  death  has  entered  on  the 
scene,  and  stands  shrouded  in  solemn  pomp, 
supreme  arbiter,  against  whose  fiat  there 
can  be  no  appeal !  But  has  hope  fled  her 
bosom,  or  fair  charity  ceased  to  shield  her, 
with  her  snowy  pinions?  Ah  no  !  for  that 
same  God  who  made  a  virtue  of  hope,  and 
who  for  wise  purposes  set  its  fountains 
deep  down  in  the  heart,  made  it  also  her 
delightful  companion,  and  copiously  did 
she  quaff  of  its  enchanted  waters.  Need 
we  then  be  surprised  that  one  who  had  so 
often  in  spirit  at  the  foot  of  the  cross 
passed  the  dread  portals  of  the  grave, 
should  not  fear  to  approach  its  shadowy 
borders,  and  set  her  feet  beyond  that  bourn 
whence  there  is  no  return  ?  A  good 
holy  missionary  father,  who  had  long  been 
her  director,  bore  to  her  the  strengthening 
Viaticum,  and  other  consoling  aids  of 
Mother  Church  for  this  her  last  and  peril- 
ous journey.  Her  preparation  was  care- 
fully and  faithfully  made,  and  incessantly 
were  on  her  lips  the  sweet  names  of  Jesus 
ftud  Mary.     She  seemed  never  to  become 


AVE       MARIA 


335 


weary  repeating,  with  the  most  touching 
and  childlike  simplicity:  "Jesus,  have  mer- 
cy on  mo !  Please,  Jesus,  have  mercy  on 
mo !"  and  at  such  times  her  pains  and  fever 
were  apparently  forgotton.  When  in- 
formed that  she  could  not  .long  survive, 
supported  by  pillows  for  two  or  three 
hours  she  spoke  with  the  clear  metallic 
ring  of  health  in  her  voice,  to  her  husband, 
parents,  brothers,  and  sisters,  with  the 
pathos  and  love  of  a  seraph,  and  requested 
them  to  prjiy  often  for  her;  but  would  add, 
with  a  touching  artlessness,  "pray  also  for 
yourselves."  Thus  time  wore  slowly  on, 
and  the  beautiful  May-day  wore  off  into 
the  moonlight,  and  the  fire-flies  glowed,  and 
the  pale  beams  of  the  moon  fell  in  streams 
of  molten  silver,  and  the  bright  stars  looked 
out  from  their  cerulean  homes,  and  yet 
the  angel  of  death  relaxed  not  his  watch 
in  that  still  house  of  mourning.  Father  L., 
her  director,  also  watched  by  her,  for  he 
was  unwilling  to  deny  himself  the  sight  of 
that  extatic  love  which  was  inundating 
the  soul  of  this  his  dying  child.  Fervent 
prayer  and  loving  ejaculations  pierce  the 
clouds,  and  during  these  silent  hours  pre- 
ceding dissolution,  our  dear  Lady  visited 
her  faithful  client,  to  console,  to  assist,  to 
strengthen,  support,  and  to  guide  her. 
With  a  grateful  humble  heart,  she  thanked 
her  blessed  Mother  for  this  loving  conde- 
scension, and  then  desired  that  nothing  but 
the  purest  white  should  be  about  her,  and 
did  not  wish  the  slightest  blemish  on  soul 
or  body  when  the  Lord  should  come  to 
judge;  and  so  with  the  golden  sunbeams 
stealing  through  the  half-closed  blinds 
playing  with  her  raven  tresses,  caressing 
her  pale  cheek,  and  lighting  up  her  radiant 
brow,  she  passed  away  so  calm,  so  soft, 
so  quiet,  that  though  all  were  attending  yet 
no  one  certainly  knew  when  the  awful  Jiat^ 
was  spoken,  and  when  that  pure  soul  orna- 
mented with  so  many  graces,  clothed  in 
her  baptismal  robe,  was  released  from  her 
earthly  tenement  and  beheld  for  the  first 
time  her  Lord,  her  Maker,  her  Redeemer, 
and  her  Sauctifier. 

After  a  life  so  holy  and  a  death  so  happy, 
need  I  add  that  the  funeral  of  "My  Bijou" 


was  rather  a  festival  in  honor  of  Mary  than 
a  mournful  ceremony.  Though  the  hearts 
of  her  husband  and  her  parents  who  had 
trusted  in  her,  were  well-nigh  broken,  yet 
did  they  have  many  sources  of  consolation* 
for  well  they  knew  that  their  loss  was  but 
the  beginning  of  her  never-ending  life  of 
bliss. 

Strange  to  say  that  all  business,  as  if  by 
common   consent,  was   suspended   in   the 

town  of  C ,  and  the  streets  through  which 

the  cortege  passed  were  draped  in  black, 
and  all  who  knew  her,  old  and  young,  rich 
and  poor.  Catholic  and  Protestant,  followed 
her  remains  to  the  church.  Several  clergy- 
men were  in  attendance,  and  the  sanctuary 
was  thronged  with  young  altar-boys.  Fa- 
ther S preached,  and  then  and  there  bore 

a  glorious  testimony  to  her  many  virtues 
and  her  pure  and  stainless  life.  He  spoke 
of  those  singular  graces  which  adorned  her 
soul  with  their  rich  perfume  and  obtained 
for  her  during  her  last  moments  a  visit  from 
the  Queen  of  Heaven, — proclaiming  in  the 
presence  of  thousands  that  during  his  long 
missionary  life  he  had  never  before  wit- 
nessed a  preparation  so  angelic  nor  a  death 
so  saintlike ;  truly,  blessed  are  the  dead 
who  die  in  the  Lord  !  adding  that  it  was 
not  his  intention  to  cast  about  her  memory 
a  garment  of  poetry,  for  all  who  knew  her 
felt  her  loss,  and  mourned  her  ex  it  as  a  com- 
mon calamity,  yet  the  Te  Deum  would 
be  a  fitter  song,  to  chant  with  her,  than 
the  Requiem  for  her.  For  her,  sorrows  now 
are  over,  tears  no  longer  dim  her  eyes,  the 
portals  of  eternity  are  passed,  the  river  of 
life  is  reached,  the  gardens  of  heaven  have 
opened  on  her  ravished  view,  and  with  harp 
and  voice  she  is  now  joining  with  the  an- 
gels in  that  celestial  concert  continually 
going  on  around  the  pure  white  throne  of 
heaven's  glorious  Queen! 

The  bride  is  not  dead  but  slecpeth! 
Her  lamp  was  trimmed,  her  vessel  was 
filled  with  oil,  and  she  entered  to  partici- 
pate in  that  feast,  whoso  joys,  St.  Paul 
tells  us,  no  eye  hath  seen,  no  tongue  hath 
told,  nor  has  ever  the  heart  of  mau  been 
able  to  conceive  their  intensity. 

Viola  Bijou. 


336 


AVE      MARIA 


A  Rich  Pair  of  Slippers. — "We  trans- 
late the  following  from  the  Precia-Hhtor- 
ique  : — 

The  festivals  of  the  Centenary  have  been 
the  occasion  of  many  acts  of  devotedness 
to  the  Sovereign  Pontiff.  We  give  one 
here : — 

A  French  lady  songht  and  obtained  an 
audience  of  the  Holy  Father.  After  ask- 
ing hira  favors  and  blessings,  and  just  as 
his  Holiness  was  about  to  rise,  to  intimate 
that  the  audience  was  at  an  end,  she  threw 
herself  at  his  feet,  and  said :  "  Holy  Father, 
there  is  still  one  thing  more  I  would  wish 
to  ask  you;  but  do  not  refuse  it,  you  would 
make  me  too  unhappy." 

"  What,  then,  is  the  favor  you  seek  so. 
earnestly?"  asked  Pius  IX,  moved  by  her 
supplicating  manner. 

"  Holy  Father,"  she  replied,  "  the  favor 
I  ask  is  that  you  would  give  me  the  shoes 
you  now  wear." 

The  Sovereign  Pontiff,  astonished  by 
the  strangeness  of  her  request,  hesitated  a 
few  monents,  and  then  replied:  "My 
daughter,  you  must  know  that  the  Pope 
has  only  just  shoes  enough,  and  none  to 
spnre." 

"I  have  already  provided  for  such  an 
emergency,"  she  said ;  "  therefore,  let  it 
be  no  obstacle ;"  at  the  same  time  she  drew 
from  her  pocket  a  pair  of  shoes,  exactly 
like  those  which  the  Pope  wore,  with  the 
exception  that  they  were  made  of  richer 
material. 

The  Holy  Father,  smiling,  answered  in 
Italian :  "  Well,  my  daughter,  let  it  be  as 
you  wish."  He  rang  a  bell,  and,  to  the 
amazement  of  his  private  chamberlain, 
asked  for  his  valet,  to  whom,  on  his  ap- 
pearance, he  gave  orders  to  take  off  his 
(the  Pope's)  shoes  and  replace  them  with 
those  given  by  the  lady.  The  valet  obeyed, 
none  the  less  astonished  at  this  toilet  made 
in  a  lady's  presence.  The  Holy  Father, 
however,  found  the  shoes  a  little  uncom- 
fortable, but  accounted  for  this  by  say- 
ing "  that  new  shoes  always  were."  "  Let 
us  hope,"  Said  he,  "  that  they  will  be  eas- 
ier ^after  a  while."  He  rose  and  walked  a 
few  steps.     "  There  is  certainly  something 


that  hurts  me ;  take  off  this  one,"  said  he 
to  his  valet.  The  latter  obeyed,  put  his 
hand  in  the  shoe,  and  sure  enough  felt 
some  bulky  substance  under  the  leather. 
He  drew  it  out,  and  it  proved  to  be  a  bond 
for  75,000  francs. — St.  Louis  Guardian. 


Charity— Patience* 


"  Acts  of  grand  virtues  will  avail  nothing 
unless  practiced  with  great  charity;  for  it 
is  charity  that  lays  the  foundation,  gives 
weight  and  price  and  value,  before  God,  to 
good  works.  The  act  of  a  small  virtue 
(for  not  all  virtues  are  by  their  nature 
equal  in  greatness),  performed  with  a  great 
love  of  God,  is  far  more  excellent  than  the 
act  of  a  virtue  which  may  be  more  exquis- 
ite, and  still  performed  with  less  love  of 
God.  One  glass  of  cool  water  given  for 
the  love  of  God  will  merit  life  eternal. 
Two  small  coins  of  little  value,  given  with 
that  same  love  by  a  poor  widow,  are  pre- 
ferred by  Jesus  Christ  Himself  to  the  rich 
presents  poured  in  by  the  wealthy  of  the 
land. 

"  We  generally  do  not  set  a  proper  value 
on  a  little  patience  with  annoyances  from 
our  neighbors,  an  amiable  forbearance  of 
their  imperfections,  a  modest  endurance 
of  a  malicious  look;  the  love  of  insult  and 
of  one's  humiliation,  or  of  a  slight  injus- 
tice; willingness  to  have  others  preferred 
to  us;  a  scolding,  or  a  performance  of  ser- 
vices below  our  condition  in  life ;  a  pleasant 
reply  to  those  who  rebuke  us  wrongfully  or 
with  asperity,  on  a  fall,  and  being  there- 
fore laughed  at;  on  receiving  a  refusal  with 
grace  and  good  humor;  on  a  proper  rendi- 
tion of  thanks  for  favors  received;  on  the 
treatment  of  servants  with  humility  and 
kindness :  which  things  appear  as  very  small 
to  those  who  have  a  proud  heart  and  carry 
a  high  head.  We  only  wish  for  such  vir- 
tues as  are  brave  and  gorgeous,  and  giye 
renown ;  we  do  not  consider  that  those  who 
strive  at  pleasing  men  are  not  servants  of 
God,  and  that  the  world's  frietidship  ren- 
ders one  an  enemy  to  God." — St.  Francis 
de  Sales. 


AVE   MARIA. 

^  Catholic  journal  AtvoUA  to  the  ^anat  Off  the  §tc^$t(l  ilrgin, 


Vol.  V. 


NOTBE  DAME.  INDIANA,   MAY  29,  1869. 


No.  22. 


For  Corpus  €hrisU* 


Bring  flowers  I  sweet  flowers! — 

Strew,  strew  them  in  tlie  way; 
Search  the  gardens,  search  the  bowers, 
We  need  sweet  flowers  to-day ; 
With  dewdrops  sparlcling  on  the  spray 
Bring  them  to  strew  upon  the  way : 

He  comes !  the  Lord  of  life  and  light, 

Our  pilgrim  path  to  cheer; 
He  comes  to  chase  the  darksome  night. 
To  brighten  up  the  day, — 
Then  bring  your  garlands  hero. 

Bring  flowers!  sweet  flowers! — 

Flowers  must  we  have  to-day, 
To  decorate  our  lovely  bowers. 

For  Hk  will  pass  this  way ; 
He !  to  whom  angels  homage  pay. 
He  comes  to  visit  us  to-day. 
He  comes !  bend,  bend  the  knee ! 

From  the  high  heaven  above 
Angels  are  winging  hurriedly. 

He  comes !  whose  name  is  love, 
O,  let  the  golden  censer  fan  the  air, 
That  human  thoughts  may  rise  in  fervent  prayer. 

Lo!  the  Lord  of  glory  comes. 

Borne  in  state  the  groves  among, 
Bringing  blessings  to  our  homes; 
Swing  the  censer,  raise  the  song — 
Join  the  reverent,  grateful  throng : 
He  comes !  receive  Him  reverently. 
Hark !  the  solemn  measured  psalm, 

Thrilling  every  loving  heart, 
Sounds  which  the  very  air  embalm. 
Which  rapturous  glow  to  earth  impart, 
Is  working  all  mysteriously 
To  fill  each  soul  with  ecstasy. 

He  comes, !  the  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth ; — 
Angels  attend  with  folded  wing; — 

Angels  re-heralding  the  birth 

Of  Joy  upon  this  dreary  earth, 
Inspire  the  melodies  men  sing. 


Men  angels'  hymns  arc  echoing : 

And  through  the  illimitable  space 

Where'er  the  charm  of  music's  given, 
That  solemn  anthem  chant  they  trace 

Beneath  the  vaulted  dome  of  heaven — 
Angels  and  men  in  unity 
Are  worshipping  Love's  mystery. 


M.  A.8. 


THE  ROiTIAN  CATACOMBS, 
And  their  Conaectlon  with  Catholic  Dogma. 

FBOlf  TIIK  GERMAN  OF   REV.   M.   WOLTKB,  BY  KEV. 
J.  ▲.   BEKORATH. 

"  Sed  tu  qui  legis,  era  pro  me  et  (h)abea8  Domi- 
num  protectorem." — Cataeombt  of  Pontianut, 

XI. 

As  the  walk  of  the  holy  women  to 
Mount  Calvary  was  the  first  practical  ap- 
plication of  the  devotion  known  as  the 
"  Way  of  the  Cross,"  so  their  visit  to  the 
grave  of  Jesus  was  the  first  instance  of  a 
Christian  pilgrimage,  and  thus  became  the 
perpetual  model  for  all  subsequent  pil- 
grimages and  visits  to  the  graves  of  de- 
parted saints.  Such  visits  or  pilgrimages 
to  the  graves  of  the  martyrs  in  Rome,  and 
more  particularly  to  those  of  SS.  Peter 
and  Paul,  the  chiefs  of  the  apostles,  were 
not  iinfrequent  even  during  the  first  cen- 
tury, as  we  have  reason  to  believe  on  the 
strength  of  monumental  records,  while  we 
know  them  to  have  grown  into  vast  pro- 
portions after  the  cross  had  achieved  its 
first  decisive  victory  in  the  year  31  i 
not  only  the  faithful  of  Rome  prj 
also  those  who  lived  in  the  moj 
provinces  of  the  empire,  came  aS 
to  the  vaults  of  the  catacombs, 
tlie  graves  of  the  martyrs,  they 


338 


AVE     MARIA 


with  their  vows,  and  then  returned  to  their 
homes  blessed  and  in  many  instances  most 
singularly  favored,  as  may  be  seen  from 
the  votive  tablets  which  in  many  cases  they 
left  behind  them  in  memory  of  their  visit. 
It  is  truly  affecting  and  particularly  calcu- 
lated to  touch  the  Catholic  heart,  when, 
after  the  lapse  of  so  many  centuries,  we 
thread  the  silent  avenues  of  this  city  of 
the  dead  and  find  there  so  many  thousands 
of  Greek  and  Latin  graphiteSy  i.  e.y  memo- 
rial inscriptions  and  prayers,  that  were 
scratched  into  the  lime  cement  of  the  crypts 
and  galleries  by  the  hands  of  pious  pil- 
grims who  frequented  these  places  during 
those  early  days  of  the  Church,  and  by 
means  of  which  they  manifested  so  child- 
like and  firm  a  confidence  in  the  saints  of 
God.  Thus  in  the  catacombs  of  Callistus, 
in  which  according  to  Bosio  the  remains 
of  at  least  174,000  martyrs  were  deposited, 
we  read  as  follows :  "  O,  thou  (true)  city 
of  Jerusalem,  glory  of  the  martyrs  of  the 
Lord."  "Ye  holy  martyrs,  be  mindful  of 
(the  pilgrim)  Dionysius."  "  ^e  mindful 
of  Elaphius" — "  of  Mary, "etc.  "  Do  pray 
that  Verecundus  and  those  who  accompany 
him  may  have  a  fortunate  homeward  pass- 
age across  the  sea."  "  Obtain  bj/  your 
prayers  for  my  father  and  my  brethren 
eternal  rest,  that  they  may  live  with  God, 
the  supreme  good."  "  St.  Xystus,  be 
mindful  (of  me)  in  thy  prayers  of  interces- 
sion.^^ "  Holy  Sustus  deliver  (us)  .  .  .  .  " 
— '^hear  (us)";  etc.  In  the  cemetery  of 
Pontianus  there  may  be  seen,  among  many 
others  of  the  same  kind,  a  beautiful  memo- 
rial inscription  which  reads  thus:  "(I) 
Eustathius,  a  poor  sinner,  priest  and  ser- 
vant of  the  blessed  martyr  Marcelline  (have 
put  up  this  inscription) ;  but  thou,  O  read- 
er, pray  for  me,  and  may  the  Lord  be  thy 
protector."  Guided  by  such  like  effusions 
of  the  heart,  we  can  frequently  trace  the 
pious  course  of  these  pilgrims  through  all 
the  chief  galleries  of  the  cemetery.  Thus 
in  the  catacombs  of  Callistus  some  devout 
palmer,  as  it  would  seem  of  the  third  cen- 
tury, engraved  a  prayer  for  one  Sophronia, 
whom  he  loved  dearly,  but  whom  he  had 
lost  in  death,  and  for  the  love  of  whose 


memory  he  had  in  all  likelihood  under- 
taken his  pilgrimage  to  these  holy  places. 
Wo  meet  with  his  prayer  for  the  first  time 
immediately  at  the  entrance,  in  these  words : 
" Sophronia,  mayest  thou  live  (in  God)!" 
Somewhat  farther  on,  directly  underneath 
the  light  of  a  luminary,  we  find  it  again: 
"Sophronia,  (live  thou)  in  God!"  "In 
the  same  sense  and  spirit  we  meet  with 
yet  other  inscriptions  by  the  same  hand 
as  we  thread  our  way  from  gallery  to  gal- 
lery, until  just  before  our  departure  from 
these  sacred  halls  we  notice  engraven  un- 
der the  arch  of  a  fine  arcosolium,  in  more 
conspicuous  letters  than  usual,  this  time 
not  the  prayer,  but  a  joyful  exclamation, 
greeting  us  as  it  were  with  a  farewell 
benediction  in  saying:  "  Sophronia,  sweet 
Sophronia,  thou  shall  live  forever  (in) 
God  !  thou  shalt  live  (in)  God  !" 

XII. 

We  are  now  drawing  near  the  close  of 
our  disquisition  regarding  the  Church  tri- 
umphant. So  far  as  the  communion  of  the 
Saints,  their  invocation,  the  veneration  of 
their  relics,  and  the  pilgrimages  made  to 
their  tombs  are  concerned — even  though 
all  of  these  Catholic  tenetsand  practices  are 
noAvadays  cried  down  by  a  certain  class  of 
people  as  being  "  superstitious,  antichris- 
tian  and  idolatrous  " — we  find  them  one 
and  all  flourishing  with  a  hitherto  un- 
suspected vigor  in  the  rich  soil  of  the 
primitive  Church,  and  filling  with  their 
sweet  aroma  the  sepulchral  atmosphere,  in 
the  night  and  silence  of  which  the  early 
Christians  were  obliged  to  spend  the  great- 
er porton  of  their  lives.  The  Catholics  of 
those  days  were  invincible  heroes,  be- 
cause, unlike  the  fabled  giant  Antaeus, 
they  touched  not  only  the  earth  but  also 
the  heavens.  Before  we  close  this  portion 
of  our  studies  of  the  catacombs,  we  shall 
yet  fortify  our  statements  by  advancing 
the  testimonies  of  three  contemporaries 
from  the  fourth  century,  who,  although  dif- 
fering from  each  other  in  position  and  opin- 
ion, will  not  fail  to  throw  an  additional 
ray  of  light  on  our  subject.  The  first  of 
these  shall  be  a  passage  from  the  writings 
of  the  heathen  sophist,  Eunapius,whoflour- 


AVE      MARIA 


ished  about  A.  D.  390,  and  whose  book  has 
only  of  late  been  published  for  the  first 
time,  in  Paris,  under  the  title  of  "  yEde- 
sius."  In  this  book  we  find  the  following 
most  remarkable  passage:  "To  the  Chris- 
tians the  heads  and  boiies  of  their  martyrs 
are  sacred ;  they  even  prostrate  themselves 
before  them  in  prayer,  foolishly  thinking 
that  in  so  doing  they  are  performing  a 
laudable  act,  while  in  reality  they  are 
only  approaching  the  graves  of  condemned 
malefactors  and  covering  themselves  with 
the  shame  that   attaches  to  the  memory 

of  those  whom    they    honor The 

Christians  look  upon  these  martyrs  as  the 
promoters^  solicitors  and  bearers  of  their 
prayers  to  God.''''  Our  second  witness 
shall  be  the  holy  Pope  Damasus  (A.  D. 
366-384),  whose  poems  of  praise  are  yet 
frequently  met  with,  beautifully  engraven 
on  marble  tablets,  throughout  the  cata- 
combs. In  these  verses  he  extols  highly 
the  merits  of  the  martyrs,  gives  testimony 
of  their  influence  with  God,  and  honors 
their  remains  by  calling  them  "  holy 
members,  blessed  ashes,  saintly  bones," 
etc.  Thus  we  find  an  inscription  by  him 
in  the  cemetery  of  St.  Sebastian,  which 
runs  in  these  words : 

"  Reader,  whoever  thou  art,  be  ture  that  thou  honor 
The  Saints  who  lie  buried  lure,  though  time  in  its 

passing 
Has  left  you  neither  their  names,  nor  even  their 

numbers. 
Damasus  (know   ye),  the   Pope,  these   hallowed 

tombs  has  embellished, 
Since  our  Lord  has  brought  the  shepherds  back  in 

repentance* — 
— Back  to  the  fold— their  bishop  thus  to  the  martyrs 
Gladly  pertoltea  his  vow  and  shows  he  is  grateful." 

In  another  place  we  find  St.  Eutychius 
thus  commemorated : 

"Seeking  we  found  him  at  last.      Do  thou  give 

honor  deserving 
Now  to  his  grave,  for  all  that  you  ask  he  feitt  grant 

you  I 
Damasus  here  has  traced  the  Saint's  well-merited 

praises, 
Follow  his  steps  and  honor  these  slumbering  ashes." 


839  J 


Out  of  the  schism  of  Trsicinus,  A.  D.  380. 


Again,  on  St.  Laurence,  we  read  the  fol- 
lowing: 

"  Damasus  thus  the  altar  has  decked  and  humbly 

in  prayer 
Upward  he  looks  to  the  Saint  whose  merits  he  trusts 

in." 

Finally,  here  is  one  on  St.  Agnes: 

"  Purity's  flower  most  sweet :  but  jtist  la  the  honor 

we  give  thee ; 
Damasus  kneels  at  thy  feet;  do  thou  but  hear  me, 

O,  virgin  1" 

Our  third  witness  shall  be  no  less  a  per- 
sonage than  Prudentius,  the  "  Iberian 
bard,"  and  sacred  poet  of  the  early  Church, 
who,  as  he  was  born  in  the  year  348,  had 
still  seen  the  catacombs  in  their  original 
glory,  and  who  thus  sings  of  the  crypt  of 
St.  Hippo lytus : 

"Here  in  this  silent  rock  there  sleep  Hippolytus' 

ashes ; 
Over  him  rises  the  dab  saered  to  Ood  in  the  skies. 
Heavenly  food  on  this  table  is  spread  while  safe  un- 
derneath it 
Rest  the  bones  of  the  saint,  waiting  the  day  of  the 

Lord. 
Holy,  forsooth,  is  the  form  which  gently  the  grave 
docs  here  shelter ; 
Holier  still  is  the  food,  given  from  here  to  the  world. 
Praying  our  hearts  are  aglow,  and  down  from  the 
altar 
Comes  sweet  peace  to  our  souls,  benediction  and 
heavenly  aid. 
Oft  when  the  soul  or  the  body  is  sick,  and  when 
troubled  with  sorrows 
Here  have  I  hopefully  prayed,  finding  the  asked- 
for  relief. 
Hence  if  I  joyful  returned  to  tell  thee  what  here 
I  had  met  with 
Priest,  most  worthy  the  name !  know  that  .fiip- 
polyt  the-  saint 
Strong  in  power  through  Christ,  with  whom  he  is 
reigning. 
Granted  my  humble  request,  sent  me  rejoicing  to 
you. 
Like  a  trophy  of  war  his  body  lies  in  this  chapel 
Caseil  in  silver  and  gold,  wrought  by  ingenious 
hands. 
Tablets  of  stone  as  .smooth  as  the  lake,  and  as  pol- 
ished as  mirrors — 
Gifts  of  grateful  hearts — deck  the  encircling  walls. 
Columns  of  marble  as  white  as  if  Paros,  the  island, 
had  sent  them, 
Rise  with  silver  bedecked,  grandly  the  entxance 
around. 


34r0 


AVE      MARIA 


Hither  to  grea  the  Bavit  and  pwutly  offer  their 
prayer$ 
Came  the  people  in  crowds  all  through  the  live- 
long day. 
Romans  there  are  met  by  people  from  various  na- 
tions, 
Yet  they  are  all  as  one — faith  and  love  is  their 
bond. 
Piously  all  kneel  down  and  pouring  redolent  balsam 
Over  the  grave  they  weep,  kUsing  the  JuUlowed 
spot. 
Then,  the  following  year  when  earth  her  coui-ses 
has  finished 
Bringing  again  this  day  sacred  to  Hippolyt'sWr<7t 
Truly  thou  never  couldst  think  how  many  will 
piously  hasten 
Back  to  the  Saint,  resolved  wholly  to  give  them 
to  God! 

[to  bk  continued.] 


THE  FLEMMINGS. 


BY    MES.     ANNA    H.    D0S8ET. 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Sacrifice. 
I  was  sitting  one  summer  evening  in  a 
pavilion  built  upon  a  bluif  overhanging 
the  sea,  watching  the  long  lines  of  surf,  as 
the  strong  swift  billows  of  the  Atlantic 
swept  shoreward  over  the  bars,  and  listen- 
ing with  mingled  awe  and  delight  to  their 
reverberating  thunders  as  they  burst  in 
creamy  whiteness  upon  the  shingly  beach, 
roaring  and  raving  with  impotent  fury  at 
the  failure  of  their  assault  on  the  dry  land, 
as  driven  by  the'  invisible  and  inexorable 
power  which  let  them  "  come  so  far  and 
no  farther,"  they  rushed  backwards  like  a 
routed  army,  their  only  spoils  the  scattered 
driftwood  and  sea-weed  deposited  along 
the  shore  by  the  last  flood  tide.  As  the 
tumultuous  sounds  subsided  into  low  and 
more  distant  mutterings,  there  rose  above 
me  the  wild  sweet  song  of  a  bird  which 
was  brooding  on  its  nest  under  some  carved 
wood-work  on  the  apex  of  the  roof.  It 
sang,  or  seemed  to  sing,  in  an  ecstasy. of 
peace,  gazing  out  the  while  at  the  rose- 
tinted  clouds,  the  turbulent  ocean  and  the 
I    rogkin^  ships;  and  the  sounds  fell  upon 


my  heart  like  balm;  but  presently  the 
booming  and  bursting  of  the  surf  below 
drowned  the  flute-like  symphonies,  and 
I  feared  that  I  should  hear  them  no  more ; 
but  when  the  defeated  billows  were  again 
dragged  back  moaning  and  sobbing,  I  dis- 
tinguished through  the  din  a  faint  sweet 
trill ;  then  as  they  receded  still  farther, 
leaving  a  short  interval  of  quiet,  the  wild 
wondrous  music  floated  out  again  in  rich 
fulness,  and  I  knew  that  it  had  not  been 
hushed,  but  that  the  bird  had  been  singing 
on  as  heedless  of  the  thunders  of  the  sea 
as  of  the  stillness  of  the  land. 

The  little  bird  singing  there  on  the 
edge  of  the  noisy  turbulent  ocean  was  like 
the  peace  that  had  made  its  abode  in  the 
soul  of  Wolfert  Flemming.  Disturbing 
elements  clamored  around  him,  and  there 
were  moments  when  his  own  nature  beat 
like  great  waves  against  Bis  soul,  and  his 
out-look  in  the  future  seemed  so  dim  and 
stormy  that  although  the  sweet  singer, 
brooding  in  the  depths  of  his  soul,  never 
ceased  murmuring  blissful  hymns  of  peace, 
he  could  not  hear  them,  but  when  the  dis- 
cords of  life  and  nature  ceased,  they  thrilled 
through  every  avenue  of  his  being,  con- 
soling him  with  the  sublime  consciousness 
that  his  faith  was  at  last  and  indeed 
anchored  on  the  eternal  Rock  of  Ages. 
And  in  this  deep  peace,  he  learned  to 
"  possess  his  soul  in  patience,"  knowing 
that  however  tempestuously  the  waves 
might  beat  against  him,  however  angrily 
they  might  threaten  him,  they  could  come 
just  so  far  and  no  farther ;  and  his  great 
trusting   heart  looked  up,  and  was  glad. 

After  the  trial  which  his  wife's  distress 
of  mind  on  account  of  his  change  of  faith 
caused  him — and  it  was  not  a  light  one — 
he  thought  that  nothing  could  pain  or  dis- 
turb him  to  the  same  degree,  but  he  was 
mistaken.  Old  Father  Ray  came  down  to 
see  him,  losing  no  time.  He  came  on 
Monday  morning,  and  with  a  countenance 
in  which  severity  struggled  with  an  ex- 
pression of  sorrow  which  be  eould  not 
conceal,  he  entered  the  hoosc^  returning 
the  welcome  greeting  he  received  by  cold, 
curt  salutations. 


AVE      MARIA 


341 


"  I  have  come  to  see  your  father,"  ho 
said  to  Hope,  "aud  I  wish  to  see  him 
alone." 

"  I  will  go  and  fetch  ray  father  directly. 
Ho  is  out  somewhere  on  the  farm,"  replied 
Hope,  folding  up  her  work.  And  she  went 
out,  leaving  him  alone  with  her  mother. 

"And  you,  Martha  F'lemming,  how  is  it 
with  you  in  these  times  of  faithlessness?" 
he  asked  in  quavering  tones. 

"  There  is  no  change  in  me.  I  am  satis- 
fied with  pure  gospel  doctrine,"  she  an- 
swered stiffly  ;  then  a  flood  of  thoughts 
came  surging  through  her  mind,  and  with 
a  low  cry  of  anguish,  she  sobbed :  "  Oh, 
Father  Kay  !  Father  Ray  !  it  will  kill  me. 
My  husband  has  turned  papist!" 

The  old  man  was  startled  and  nearly 
frightened  by  such  an  unexpected  outburst 
of  emotion,  and  if  she  had  said,  "  My  hus- 
band has  turned  infidel,"  he  -could  not 
have  felt  a  more  deathlike  sickness  at  his 
heart;  but  it  was  impossible  to  sit  silent 
in  the  face  of  such  a  sorrow  as  this,  and 
making  an  effort  to  collect  his  scattered 
wits,  he  began  to  utter  some  consolatory 
words,  when  Wolfert  Flemming's  foot- 
steps sounded  along  the  passage,  and  she 
hastily  left  the  room  before  he  entered  it. 

No  one  was  present  at  this  interview. 
Mr.  Flemming  led  his  guest  away  to  his 
little  work-room,  and  they  shut  themselves 
in.  There  for  three  hours  they  talked  to- 
gether. Now  and  then  the  old  minister's 
voice  arose  in  loud  expostulatory  tones; 
then  he  pleaded  and  denounced  alternately, 
and  as  he  grew  more  excited  its  thin  treble 
sounded  like  a  shriek,  and  sometimes 
sunk  into  hoarse  trembling  whispers,  for 
throughout  the  interview  every  moment 
convinced  him  of  the  utter  futility  of  argu- 
ing the  case  with  this  man  who — grave, 
calm  and  assured — had  scripture,  reason, 
history,  and,  above  all,  faith,  with  which 
to  rebut  and  crush  out  all  that  he  could 
say  ;  this  man  whose  sense  of  religion  was 
so  pure,  whose  moral  nature  was  so  grand, 
whose  conscience  was  so  upright,  and 
whose  very  earnestness  impressed  even 
him — angry  as  he  was — with  the  perfect 
sincerity  of  his  belief  in  the  strange  and  in- 


comprehensible doctrines  he  had  adopted; 
doctrines  which  to  his  darkened  and  narrow 
mind  were  "damnable idolatries."  Bafllcd 
and  wounded — for  as  we  have  said  else- 
where, old  father  Ray  loved  Wolfert  Flem- 
ming as  a  father  loves  his  first  born — 
and  full  of  bitterness,  he  gave  up  the  con- 
test and  left  him;  remembering  the  doom 
of  Ephriam,  who  was  joined  to  his  idols, 
he  "  let  him  alone,"  and  shaking  the  dust 
of  his  house  from  his  feet  he  went  out, 
refusing  Flemming's  offered  hand,  and 
mounting  his  horse  rode  slowly  away,  feel- 
ing as  if  a  gulf  had  suddenly  opened  and 
swallowed  the  last  earthly  happiness  of 
his  life,  destroying  the  one  mortal  tie  that 
above  all  others  he  had  held  most  dear 
for  time  and  eternity. 

"  That's  what's  come  of  it  all,"  said 
Mrs.  Flemming  bitterly,  as  she  and  Eva 
and  Hope  stood  at  the  window  looking 
after  the  old  minister.  She  saw  him  refuse 
her  husband's  hand,  and  almost  imagined 
that  the  words  she  saw  him  uttering,  but 
could  not  distinguish,  were  curses,  for  there 
was  no  blessing  in  the  look  he  cast  back 
to  the  house,  no  relenting  in  his  hard 
pinched  features,  which  they  saw  as  he 
wheeled  his  horse  around  to  ride  home- 
wards. She  watched  her  husband  as  he 
stood  motionless  and  almost  breathless  on 
the  spot  where  the  old  man  had  parted 
from  him,  then  turned  to  come  into  the 
house,  and  she  saw  that  his  features  were 
pale  and  set,  that  his  lips  were  compressed, 
and  that  his  eyes,  over  which  his  heavy 
brows  hung  lowering,  had  a  steely  gleam 
in  them  she  had  never  seen  there  before : 
then  she  knew  that  he  had  had  a  fierce 
struggle  in  his  inner  life  and  that  his 
powers  of  endurance  bad  been  taxed  to 
their  utmost.  He  poured  out  a  flagon  full 
of  cool  water  which  had  just  come  from 
the  spring,  and  drank  it  every  drop ;  then 
stood  a  few  moments,  his  elbow  leaning 
against  the  window  frame,  looking  out 
through  the  budding  vines,  at  the  distant 
mountain  ridges  edged  with  sunshine  and 
the  deep  calm  blue  of  the  heavens  beyond; 
and  the  passion  waves  subsided  within 
him,  and  he  heard  the  sweet  whispers  of 


34:3 


AVE      MARIA 


faith  and  peace.  He  did  not  refer  to  his 
stormy  interview  with  Father  Ray;  indeed 
he  did  not  speak  at  all,  until,  as  he  was 
leaving  the  room,he  stopped  for  an  instant 
beside  Mrs.  Fleraraing's  chair,  and  laying 
his  hand  tenderly  upon  her  head,  said: 
"Mother,  I  am  going  down  with  the  men 
to  harrow  in  the  oats;  if  Deacon  Sneathen 
comes,  send  for  me." 

"Very  well,"  she  replied  coldly,  even 
while  her  heart  was  full  of  wifely  pity  for 
him,  dashed  with  anger  that  she  could  not 
help.  "  Deacon  Sneathen,  indeed  !"  she 
added,  as  he  left  the  room ;  "  mark  my 
words,  girls.  Deacon  Sneathen  won't  come ; 
see  if  he  does  !" 

"  I  hope  he  will,"  answered  Hope.  "  I 
don't  see  why  he  shouldn't.  My  father's 
change  of  religion  can't  affect  the  business 
in  which  they've  been  engaged  in  so  many 
years.  I  think  it  will  be  a  most  unreason- 
able thing  in  the  Deacon  to  break  off  his 
connection  with  father,  because — "  Hope 
hesitated  a  moment,  then  added  bravely, 
"  become  a  Catholic." 

"Where  is  Reuben  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Flem- 
ming  sharply,  to  change  the  conversation, 
for  every  reference  to  her  husband's  change 
of  faith  was  like  a  stab.  "  Where  can  that 
boy  be?" 

"  I  don't  know,  mother,"  replied  Eva. 
"I  have  not  seen  Ruby  since  breakfast 
time.  I  hope  he  is  not  going  to  have  a 
sick  turn.  I  thought  he  looked  very  white 
this  morning." 

"  So  he  did.  I  noticed  it  too.  Do  go, 
Hope,  and  find  out  if  any  of  them  have 
seen  him,"  said  Mrs.  Flemming  anxiously, 
"  I  can't  tell  what  makes  Ruby  so  ailing 
all  the  time."  Then  Mrs.  Flemming  went 
up  to  the  weaving  room  and  sat  down  to 
think — not  of  Reuben  and  his  feeble,  use- 
less life,  which  generally  afforded  her  much 
anxious  concern — but  of  the  heavy  trial 
which  had  fallen  upon  her,  which  she  al- 
most imagined  to  be  a  judgment  from 
heaven  to  punish  her  for  having  been  too 
proud  of  her  husband,  and  for  having  loved 
him  too  entirely. 

But  Reuben  could  not  be  found  ;  no  one 
had  seen  him  since  early  in  the  morning, 


and  each  one  of  the  family  began  to  feel 
seriously  uneasy  about  him.  Dinner  time 
came  and  passed,  and  still  he  did  not  come. 
Mr.  Flemming  and  his  men  came  in  at 
sunset,  but  there  were  no  tidings  of  Reu- 
ben ;  and  urged  by  his  mother,  who  was 
half  distracted  by  her  anxious  fears,  they 
were  making  preparations  to  go  in  search 
of  him,  when  he  glided  in  like  a  ghost  out 
of  the  twilight,  and  sunk  down  on  the  old 
oak  settle  by  the  fire,  pale,  speechless,  and 
exhausted.  They  set  to  sponging  his 
face  with  vinegar,  rubbing  his  hands,  and 
feeding  him  with  elderberry  wine  which 
revived  him,  then  they  began  to  question 
him  all  together  in  such  a  chorus  of  sounds 
and  confusion  of  words,  that  he  burst  out 
laughing  although  he  was  still  too  weak 
to  answer  them. 

"  You're  all  right  now,  Ruby,"  said  Eva, 
kissing  his  forehead. 

"  But  where  in  the  world  have  you  been, 
Reuben  ?  Do  tell !  To  give  me  such  a 
fright !"  said  Mrs.  Flemming,  sitting  down 
and  folding  her  hands  on  her  lap  while 
she  looked  at  him,  puzzled  beyond  expres- 
sion by  idiosyncrasies  which  made  the 
boy's  life  a  perpetual  mystery  to  her. 
"You  should  not  have  done  so  !" 

"  I  didn't  intend  to,  mammy,  indeed  I 
didn't,"  he  answered,  disarming  her  anger 
at  once  by  the  tender,  sweet  appellative 
which  he  always  used  as  a  shield  and  de- 
fence, whenever  he  wanted  to  propitiate 
her,  or  when  she  was  displeased  with  him. 
"  I  went  straggling  around,  digging  and 
poking  among  the  thorn  bushes,  and  turn- 
ing over  big  rocks  searching  for  something 
I  wanted,  until  I  got  so  far  from  home  that 
I  thought  I  should  never  be  able  to  get  back." 

"  What  in  the  land's  name  were  you  hunt- 
ing up,  child?  I  never  did  see  the  like  of 
you  in  my  life  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Flemming. 

"  Gold,  I  guess,"  said  Hope,  laughing. 

"  No,"  said  the  boy  gravely,  "  I  was 
searching  for  soft  stone." 

"Now  do  tell !  Why  !"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Flemming,  quite  exasperated  at  what  she 
considered  his  extreme  foolishness.  "I 
do  think,  Reuben,  of  all  your  vagaries, 
this  one  beats.     Soft  stone!     But  listen 


AVE      MA  It  I  A  . 


343 


now  to  what  I  have  to  say.  I  will  have 
no  more  such  shiftless  doings,  and  sinful 
waste  of  time.  You  can't  work;  you're 
really  not  strong  enough;  and  you  shall 
help  me  in  the  dairy,  and  learn  how  to 
spin.  Indeed  you  shall.  I  will  positively 
put  a  stop  to  this  aimless  sort  of  a  life. 
Soft  stone,  indeed !" 

"  But  there  is  soft  stone;  mother,  I  have 
read  about  it,  and  how  to  find  it,  and  I 
shall  keep  on  looking  for  it,  too,"  answered 
Reuben,  a  little  crest-fallen,  and  a  little 
doggedly. 

"I  guess  you  learnt  that  out  of  the  book 
the  Irish  peddler  gave  you.  It  would  be 
just  like  the  rest.  Soft  stone  !  When  you 
find  it,  let  me  know ;  maybe  it  will  do  to 
stufi*the  pillows  with."  Reuben  was  silent. 
He  knew  that  he  might  as  well  be,  and  he 
was  very  tired ;  so  he  leaned  back,  closing 
his  eyes,  and  seemed  to  doze,  she  watching 
him  all  the  while.  Then  she  lifted  up  his 
long  tapering  hand,  as  fair  and  white  as  a 
woman's,  and  laying  it  across  her  own,  sat 
looking  thoughtfully  at  it,  and  like  one 
speaking  in  her  sleep,  said:  "  It  is  exactly 
like  the  hand  in  the  old  portrait  of  ray 
great  grandmother.  Lady  Pendarvis;"  then 
she  smoothed  it,  and  folded  it  against  her 
heart  with  an  indescribable  yearning  for 
this  gifted,  half  helpless  and  best  beloved 
one  of  her  children.  Reuben  was  not 
asleep,  and  he  raised  hin^self  up  and  put  his 
arms  about  her,  and  leaning  his  head  upon 
her  shoulder,  said :  "  I'd  like  to  find  it,  little 
mammy.  I  want  it  for  something  great." 
"  Have  you  eaten  anything  to-day. 
Ruby?"  she  asked,  while  she  smoothed 
back  the  golden  tangles  from  his  face. 
"  No !  Get  up,  and  let  me  hurry  them 
with  supper."  And  forgetting  her  great 
sorrow  for  the  time,  the  busy  little  woman 
began  to  bustle  around,  and  presently  left 
the  room. 

[to  be  continued.] 


We  commend  to  the  prayers  of  our  read- 
ers, Mr.  William  Claggett,  a  life  subscriber, 
who  died  in  Baltimore  some  weeks  ago. 
May  his  soul  rest  in  peace. 


Applications  to  thb  Association  or  Oub 
Lady  ok  tab  Sacrdd  Hbabt. 

For  the  month  o/ April,  1860. 


For  membership,  6,230;  for  particular 
favors,  87  ;  for  recovery  of  health,  10;  for 
conversion,  72 ;  for  happy  death,  79 ;  for 
temporal  favors,  13;  for  religious  vocation, 
15  ;  for  deceased  members,  20. 


The  intensely  Protestant  correspondent 
of  the  Palt-Mall  Gazette  speaks  thus  of 
the  Miserere,  as  sung  by  the  Papal  choir: 

"  Later  in  t!ie  Rftemoon  we  went  to  the  Miserere 
in  the  Sixtine  cbapcl,  and  still  by  favor  of  a  kind 
cameriere  segreto  we  were  admitted,  just  before  the 
lamentation  began,  to  a  dim  arched  place  where 
many  people  were  waiting,  and  some  lights  burn- 
ing, and  da^'light  streaming  through  the  windows 
upon  Michael  Angelo's  great  prophets  and  sybiU, 
and  upon  the  magnificent  Creation  of  Man,  a  fresco 
high  up  in  the  roof  with  a  mountain-height  feeling 
about  it,  that  takes  one  away  out  of  the  chapel  and 
beyond  the  angels  and  devils  painted  on  the  walls. 
We  had  all  got  quite  used  to  our  black  veils  by  this 
time,  and  we  listened,  as  we  looked,  all  in  rows,  to 
to  the  chanting,  which  at  first  disappointed  me. 
The  Pope  did  not  come  that  afternoon,  and  his 
throne  stood  empty,  but  the  service  went  on  and 
on,  and  presently  some  of  the  lights  were  put  out, 
and  the  chanting  seemed  to  thrill  a  little  and  then 
to  go  on  and  on  once  more,  and  then  some  more 
lights  went  out,  and  with  the  last  the  chanting 
stopped  short,  and  now  began  a  melody  so  strange, 
so  sad,  so  carefully  sweet,  so  utterly  unlike  any- 
thing I  had  ever  in  my  life  listened  to  before,  that 
I  do  not  know  how  to  write  of  it ;  sad,  still,  strange, 
and  slirill,  it  dcei>ened  and  died  away,  and  seemed 
soaring  to  those  very  mountain  heights  which  are 
dimly  reflected  in  the  fresco  overhead;  the  secret 
of  life  seemed  to  be  in  its  voice  4f  one  could  only 
understand.  It  did  not  sound  so  much  like  sing- 
ing as  like  the  playing  of  one  violoncellist,  whose 
name  is  familiar  to  us  all,  sadder  and  more  sad  in 
the  gray  of  the  sunset,  from  which  all  the  gold  had 
died  away.  At  last  came  one  note  of  hope,  only 
one,  and  as  we  all  listened  for  more  the  music 
stopped  and  the  Miwrere  was  over.  We  came  out 
into  the  Bcala  Regia  of  the  Vatican,  dark  figures 
crowding,  awestricken,  and  touched  by  this  won- 
derful service.  Except  in  the  sepulchres  no  lights 
are  allowed  in  the  churches  till  Easter,  nor  do  bells 
ring  any  more." 


34r4: 


AVE     MARIA. 


Mh  cf  tB«  fif  ilu  Mtn* 


JL    :M.A.TC    HYBIN. 


AfuHlo  froiu.  tlio  Crerman  of  0«  lllenne. 


Andante. 


Sopro. 
Alto. 


BM8. 


^^^ 


I 


3 


^H&=i=^ 


^^-^if^,-U 


=s 


,p— r-T- "-f—r- 

When  eve  -  ning shades  are    fall  -  ing  O'er 


mVrr^ 


m 


P  r      u 

o-cean's  sun  -  ny 


sleep,  To 


^=tt 


^ — 0 — » 


^^77 


ri=^ 


i   \4^    i-if 


^^S 


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J—* — * 


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p^ 


a^^^:^s£=5 


-#i- 


w— ♦ 


ae^=L^i^J±£i4jJJ..L^^ 


"r 


pil-grims'  hearts  re 


SS 


call   -   ing  Their  home  be-yond   the       deep;    When,    rest  o'er  all  de- 


u— j-j'iJ-^y  JFfrn 


p^N!f^-^l^^M-fi^^^ 


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t 


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SEES 


w — n 


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scend  -  ing,   The 

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shores  with  glad-ness  smile, 


And      lutes,  their       e-choes 


i 


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# — #- 


t?r:::« 


^^^^j-t-^,:^f=F^i[j  ^^ri^^ 


.|^'V^ — f-y  I  J    y~f   M  J    »" 


^  r  y 


AVE       MARIA. 


346 


1^ 


i 


^ 


R=F=P 


^ 


blending,   Are       heard  from  isle   to 


isle; 


Then       Ma   •    ry,  Star  of  the 


^^M 


"^m 


i 


-^ 


mm 


m 


^m 


^'  • 


"i? 


W^ 


^.f-i.  y  V    \  fP    [    j"  R=^^ 


^ 


^1: 


Ritard. 


IH^-Vt-M^n 


pray,  wo  pray    to 


(Ti W 

tiiee! 


i 


-*j 


^H 


^1 


■• 


The  noonday  tempest  over, 

Now  ocean  toils  no  more, 
And  wings  of  halcyons  hover 

Where  all  was  strife  before. 
Oh !  thus  may  life,  in  closing 

Its  short  tempestuous  day. 
Beneath  Heaven's  smile  reposing. 

Shine  all  its  storms  away. 
Thus  Mary,  Star  of  the  sea. 

We  pray,  we  pray  to  thee ! 


MARY   OUR   MODEL. 


Mary  Model  of  Wives. 

When  Mary  received,  from  the  hands  of 
her  parents  and  the  high  priest,  the  spouse 
whom  heaven  had  destined  for  her,  she  be- 
came the  model  of  married  women,  as  she 
had  been  of  young  girls. 

I  will  say  no  more  of  her  admirable 
purity,  nor  her  vow  of  virginity ;  we  have 
sufficiently  considered  that.  Out  of  respect 
for  this  holy  spouse  we  will  not  touch 
upon  the  delicate  subject  of  conjugal  chas- 
tity. It  will  suffice  here  to  bear  in  mind 
that  the  Christian  marriage  is  far  holier 
than  that  of  the  old  law,  because  it  is  ele- 
vated by  Christ  to  the  dignity  of  a  sacra- 
ment. For  that  reason  it  should  be  treated 
with  great  respect  and  perfect  purity  of 
heart.  "This  is  a  great  sacrament,"* 
says  St.  Paul;  "but  I  speak  in  Christ  and 


♦Eph.  V,  82. 


in  the  Church,"  whose  mysterious  union 
it  represents. 

As  Jesus  Christ  is  Head  of  the  Church, 
says  the  same  apostle,  and  she  is  entirely 
obedient  to  Him,  so  must  the  woman  be 
obedient  to  her  husband,  as  the  Church  is 
to  Christ.* 

The  Blessed  Virgin  understood  perfectly 
well  that  she  accepted  in  St.  Joseph  a  mas- 
ter and  a  true  friend.  Even  from  the  time 
she  received  the  message  of  the  angel  Ga- 
briel and  became  the  Mother  of  God,^ — th.nt 
is,  the  greatest  of  all  creatures,  by  this  one 
title, — she  continued  subject  to  her  husband 
as  the  most  humble  of  women  ;  she  showed 
such  deference  to  him,  as  we  learn  from 
tradition,  that  the  holy  patriarch  was  filled 
with  confusion. 

God  willed  this,  in  order  to  give  a  per- 
emptory lesson  to  all  wives,  who  might  be 
tempted  by  specious  pretexts  to  think  them- 
selves superior  to  their  liusbands.  Have 
you  remarked  how  Ho  strives,  as  it  were, 


♦Eph.  id.  22,  24. 


346 


AVE      MARIA. 


to  leave  Mary  in  the  background,  and  to 
bring  St.  Joseph's  authority  in  full  relief? 
If  He  sends  an  angel  to  the  Holy  Family 
to  warn  them  to  fly  into  Egypt,  or  to  re- 
turn to  their  country,  it  is  not  to  Mary 
nor  even  to  the  Son  the  angel  speaks,  but 
to  St.  Joseph  ;  the  angel  says  to  him,  as  the 
head  of  the  family:  Take  the  Child  and  His 
Mother,  and  fly  into  Egypt;  or.  Return  to 
the  land  of  Israel.*  Jesus  and  Mary  are 
not  directly  warned ;  they  have  only  to  obey 
this  holy  artisan  ;  he  is  their  master. 

Go  to  this  sublime  school,  proud  women, 
who  dream  of  independence  and  perhaps 
of  supremacy.  If  you  have  forgotten  that 
God  has  ordained  that  you  be  submissive  to 
the  authority  of  man,  f  and  that  St.  Paul 
forbids  you  to  endeavor  to  rule  your  hus- 
bands, J  you  will  understand  your  great 
fault  when  you  see  the  humble  obedience  of 
the  greatest  o/tcomen,  and  you  can  but  blush 
with  shame  at  your  guilty  presumption. 

She  teaches  you  also  not  to  make  your 
husbands  suffbrbyyourdefects  of  character. 
In  admiring  her  mildness,  her  boundless 
charity,  and  her  multiplied  acts  of  kindness 
for  St.  Joseph,  ask  yourselves  whether  the 
same  qualities  are  found  in  you.  Never  did 
an  insolent  word  pass  her  lips ;  never  did  she 
do  an  angry  or  peevish  act;  on  the  contiary, 
her  manner  was  full  of  cordiality,  her  expres- 
sion always  agreeable,  her  language  always 
affectionate,  and  all  her  actions  obliging. 
Grateful  for  all  that  St.  Joseph  did  for 
her,  and  considering  her  own  services  as 
nothing,  she  manifested  the  great  happi- 
ness she  felt  in  living  with  him  and  the 
entire  confidence  which  his  unalteiable 
friendship  inspired  in  her. 

Are  you  always  like  her?  Have  you  for 
your  husbands  only  sweet  words  and  mild 
behavior?  Do  you  not  irritate  them  by 
too  much  vivacity,  by  unjust  reproaches 
and  senseless  quarrels  ?  Do  you  tire  them 
by  annoying  faults  that  you  will  not 
correct,  and  thus  render  life  too  hard  for 
them? 

Holy  Writ  says  of  certain  women  things 


♦  Matt  u,  13, 19,  22.  f  Gen.  iil,  10. 

t  1  Tim.  ii,  12. 


that  I  would  not  dare  repeat  in  similar 
terms.  "There  is  no  head  worse  than  the 
head  of  a  serpent :  and  there  is  no  anger 
above  the  anger  of  a  woman.  It  will  be 
more  agreeable  to  abide  with  a  lion  and  a 
dragon,  than  to  dwell  with  a  wicked  wo- 
man. The  wickedness  of  a  woman  changeth 
her  face :  and  she  darkeneth  her  counte- 
nance as  a  bear  and  showeth  it  like  sack- 
cloth."* Shall  I  continue?  "As  a  yoke 
of  oxen  that  is  moved  to  and  fro,  so  also  is 
a  wicked  woman  :  he  that  hath  hold  of  her 
is  as  he  that  taketh  hold  of  a  scorpion."! 

This  is  enough,  ladies;  indeed  it  is  too 
much;  these  terrible  reproaches  are  ad- 
dressed only  to  a  few  sad  exceptions,  and 
they  do  not  read  the  Ave  Maria  nor  any 
other  pious  book. 

You  may  very  justly  observe  to  me:  "And 
our  husbands, — are  they  faultless  in  your 
opinion?"  Pardon  me,  they  are  far  from 
being  as  perfect  as  St.  Joseph.  When  I 
write  a  "Month  of  St.  Joseph"  for  them,  I 
will  hunt  up  «till  more  terrible  texts  for 
them,  and  you  shall  assist  me  by  your 
suggestions. 

But  in  the  mean  time  be  sincere.  Are  you 
what  you  should  be  to  them,  what  religion 
desires,  what  reason  and  your  own  interest 
urge  you  to  be  ?  I  let  you  be  your  own 
judges. 

You,  above  all,  who  complain  of  their  char- 
acter, are  you  sufficiently  mild  and  prudent 
yourself?  Formerly,  you  were  eager  to 
please  them,  and  nothing  was  considered 
a  trouble  to  show  your  aflfection ;  then,  all 
went  on  admirably.  How  is  it  that  all  this 
has  changed  ?  Is  it  not  true  that  you  have 
grown  lax  in  your  attention  and  marks 
of  affection,  and  even  in  that  patience  which 
formerly  preserved  that  delightful  har- 
mony ?  And — who  knows  ! — perhaps  your 
heart  has  allowed  marks  of  coldness,  dis- 
like, malice  or  contempt  to  peep  forth! 
It  would  be  still  worse  if  you  have  be- 
stowed your  affection  elsewhere,  even  were 
it  only  in  appearance.  More  constancy, 
more  devotion — finally,  more  real  virtue, 
will  dispel  all  these  clouds.  • 


Eccli.  XXV,  22-24. 


t  Eccli.  xxvi,  10. 


AVE     MARIA. 


347 


Tub  Inconsideiiatk  Wife. 

Clotilde  was  married  at  eighteen,  and 
she  married  in  a  hurry.  Never  wa«  a  day — 
after  that  of  her  first  communion — more 
ardently  desired.  It  is  truly  the  most  im- 
portant, but  isitthemostdesirable?  I  will 
leave  it  to  you  to  answer,  and  I  pass  to 
another  question :  Why  was  Clotilde  in 
such  haste  to  marry?  Was  she  unhappy 
with  her  mother?  No,  but  she  was  not 
free  enough,  and  it  was  necessary  to  obey 
her. 

She  wished  for  absolute  liberty,  to  com- 
mand, to  be  mistress  of  the  house,  to  be 
addressed  as  **  madam"  and  to  say  "  my 
husband."  Her  only  desire  was  tobe  loved 
and  admired  and  to  make  a  sensation  in 
society.  For  this  it  was  necessary  to  go 
out  a  great  deal,  adopt  all  the  fashions,  to 
appear  at  soireesand  public  feasts.  Perhaps 
she  thought  that  marriage  was  a  complete 
release  from  modesty,  and  consequently, 
the  era  of  pleasure,  with  or  without  the 
preniission  of  ber  husband. 

Vanity,  freedom  and  pleasure  were  then 
the  three  inspiring  divinities  of  this  mar- 
riage ;  for  the  husband,  add  avarice,  and  you 
will  know  under  what  auspices  their  vows 
of  eternal  union  were  made. 

They  were  married  in  the  church,  for  Clo- 
tilde wished  to  be  a  Catholic  in  name,  al- 
though she  is  a  very  poor  one  in  practice. 
She  has  perfectly  pagan  ideas  concerning 
marriage.  She  thinks  it  imposes  no  other 
duty,  than  to  amuse  herself  without  quar- 
relling with  her  husband.  She  would  be 
surprised,  if  she  were  tMd  that  conjugal 
chastity  must  be  respected,  that  the  divine 
law  does  not  lose  its  rights,  and  that  the 
Supreme  Judge  will  demand  a  severe  ac- 
count of  the  manner  she  has  observed  it. 
She  never  knew  the  grave  obligations  that 
result  from  this  sacred  engagement,  how  the 
husband  and  wife  must  mutually  aid  one 
another  to  sanctify  their  lives  and  gain 
heaven.  Faith  has  nothing  to  do  in  their 
plans. 

She  obeys  her  husband  in  order  not  to 
displease  him,  never  thinking  that  she  is 
obliged  to  do  so  by  any  principle  of  con- 


science. She  respects  and  does  his  pleas- 
ure because  she  loves  him  and  becaasc  she 
is  endowed  with  natural  goodnens,  but 
without  thinking  that  God  has  made  it  a 
duty.  For  this  reason  she  has  not  the 
least  scruple  in  disobeying  him  secretly, 
and  deceiving  him  when  she  feels  like  it; 
as,  for  example,  when  she  wishes  to  satisfy 
a  whim  that  she  knows  would  displease  him 
if  he  knew  it,  or  to  expend  money  con- 
trary to  his  wishes.  In  a  word,  she  knows 
no  limit  to  her  liberty  except  the  fear  of 
being  blamed  and  of  bringing  trouble  in 
the  house. 

So  far  their  peace  has  not  been  troubled; 
because  they  love  one  another  and  mu- 
tually deceive  each  other.  But  wait  un- 
til certain  secrets  be  revealed,  until  re- 
proaches and  recriminations  have  cooled 
their  affection,  until  discord  has  at  last 
soured  their  dispositions;  then  will  come 
dissension  and  disgust,  for  which  they  shall 
find  no  consolation  nor  remedy.  Religion 
alone  has  remedies  for  such  evils. 

All  peace  and  happiness  which  are 
founded  only  upon  the  passions  are  of  short 
duration  ;  only  virtue  cemented  by  faith 
is  a  solid  and  durable  foundation. 


Life  of  Mother  Mary  Seraphine  F- 


[cONTIinjltD.] 

Even  at  recreation  she  was  so  industrious 
as  sometimes  never  once  to  lift  her  eyes. 
"  Mother  dear,  do  rest  a  little,"  the  sisters 
would  say;  "you  don't  even  look  at  us." 
Then  taking  off  her  spectacles,  with  a 
smile,  she  would  answer  some  kind  words 
or  indulge  in  the  playful  badinage  which 
was  the  delight  of  recreation — but  speed- 
ily fix  her  eyes  again  on  her  work.  She 
took  care  that  the  novices  were  taught  to 
sew  well,  often  herself  showing  them  how 
something  should  be  done,  and  m.iking 
them  work  in  her  presence.  The  spirit 
of  poverty  also  perfected  still  more  that 
spirit  of  order  which  was  natural  to  her. 
"  Whatever  you  use,  always  put  it  back  in 
its  place,"  she  would  say;  inculcating  in- 
cessantly the  secret  of  exact  order. 


348 


AVE      MARIA. 


What  shall  be  said  of  the  way  she  prac- 
ticed that  vow  which  was  her  "  glory  and 
her  delight,"  to  use  the  expression  of  the 
constitutions  of  the  order?  Sister  Sera- 
ph ine  lived,  breathed,  aspired  only  for 
the  Spouse  of  her  soul — in  all  purity  and 
holiness  of  spirit,  of  conversation,  of  car- 
riage and  of  actions,  by  a  life  stainless  and 
angelic.  Her  exterior,  in  all  her  conduct, 
exhaled  the  perfume  of  heavenly  purity ; 
this  precious  gift  was  her  adornment, 
whose  lustre  even  made  brighter  all  her 
other  virtues.  One  felt,  in  drawing  near 
her,  the  religious  respect  one  expei'iences 
in  approaciiing  a  dwelling  of  God.  The 
perfect  modesty  of  her  deportment,  the 
gentle  serenity  of  her  countenance,  the 
simplicity  of  her  conversation,  made  it 
evident  to  all  that  her  heart  was  a  sanc- 
tuary where  Jesus  reposed,  where  He 
reigned  sovereign.  All  candid  and  inno- 
cent souls  found  themselves  at  home  with 
her.  A  religious  of  another  order  said, 
after  her  death,  addressing  Sister  Seraph- 
ine's  community ;  "  It  was  not,  as  you 
would  suppose,  her  profound  humility  that 
struck  me  the  most  in  your  saintly  mother; 
it  was  rather  her  purity,  which  to  me 
seemed  actually  heavenly.  I  often  thought, 
when  with  her,  that  she  was  as  spot- 
less as  a  babe  just  bedewed  with  the  wa- 
ters of  baptism ;  in  all  her  behavior  there 
was  something  angelic.  I  do  not  know 
I  ever  experienced  the  same  sensation 
with  any  other  person  that  I  did  when 
with  her,  or  only  in  thinking  of  her." 
She  was,  to  use  the  epithet  of  Monseigneur 
de  Blanquant  "a  soul  unspotted  from  the 
world ;"  an  expression  the  more  strik- 
ing when  it  is  remembered  that  the  state 
of  society  in  her  youth  was  remarkable 
for  its  malice  and  corruption.  But  she 
lived  in  the  midst  of  evil  without  being 
touched  by  it;  the  dark  shadows  of  sin 
were  all  around  her,  but  fell  not  on  this 
child  of  faith  and  love.  If,  in  aftertimes, 
God  gifted  her  with  words  of  counsel 
suited  to  all  human  failings,  and  inspired 
her  with  power  to  lead  back  from  their  evil 
ways  the  most  erring  souls,  this  pure  spirit 
seemed  to  possess  the  means  to  cure  their 


wounds  without  probing  them  or  being 
defiled  by  their  festering  corruption.  She 
thus  preserved  infantile  innocence  while 
possessing  consummate  prudence  and  wis- 
dom. It  is  certain,  from  the  evidence  of 
those  who  knew  the  secrets  of  her  soul, 
that  she  had  kept  her  baptismal  innocence. 
It  was  this  ever-spotless  garment  of  bap- 
tismal whiteness  that  grace  embroidered 
with  so  many  gifts,  and  fidelity  adorned 
with  such  rare  virtues.  It  is  hardly  a 
cause  for  surprise  that  this  perfect  purity 
of  soul,  raised  as  it  was  to  an  angelic 
degree  by  the  detachment  of  the  religious 
life,  and  by  the  habit  of  constant  prayer 
during  long  years,  should  have  given 
this  spouse  of  our  Lord  a  participation 
in  the  lights  of  heaven,  and  intimate  com- 
munications with  her  God. 

It  would  be  hard  to  judge  whether  it 
was  this  innocence  which  inspired  her 
with  the  greatest  horror  of  the  slightest 
wilful  imperfection  or  her  filial  fear  of 
displeasing  the  God  she  so  loved.  Her 
hatred  for  sin  was  in  proportion  to  her 
tender  and  ardent  love  for  her  God.  That 
a  spouse  of  Jesus  Christ  could  deliberately 
refuse  to  listen  to  His  voice,  to  obey  the 
lightest  whisper  of  His  divine  inspirations, 
was  to  her  not  only  a  cause  of  bitter  sorrow, 
but  of  profound  astonishment.  Never  did 
grace  speak  in  vain  to  her ;  her  fidelity 
made  her  always  choose  even  among  good 
actions,  with  delicate  conscientiousness, 
the  precise  good  deed  God  required  of  her. 
She  never  ceased  to  deplore  what  she 
called  the  great  sins  of  her  life;  among 
these  were  her  having,  when  a  very  little 
child,  in  a  sudden  fit  of  impatience  killed  a 
pet  bird,  and  the  pleasure  she  had  felt,  when 
about  three  years  old,  in  imitating  the 
gestures  of  actors. 

One  of  the  traits  in  the  character  of 
Mother  Seraphine  which  seemed  attribu- 
table to  her  perfect  innocence,  was  a 
remarkable  power  of  drawing  souls  to  God 
without  attracting  them  to  herself.  "  I 
have  no  desire  to  win  hearts  except  for 
God  "  she  said,  and  this  wish  wa»  granted. 

The  affection  that  was  felt  for  her  by  all 
who  knew  her  was  based  on  esteem  and 


AVE      MATtlA. 


349 


gratitude;  it  was  a  filial  sentiment,  full  of 
tenderness  and  veneration,  or  rather  an 
outflow  of  that  dilection  truly  founded  on 
God,  of  which  the  divine  Master  has  said, 
*'  Behold  the  second  commandment,  which 
is  like  unto  the  first."  They  loved  in  her 
the  work  of  God. 

This  spirit  of  childlike  innocence  also 
presej'ved  in  Sister  Seraph ine,  to  the  close 
of  her  life,  that  naive  gaiety  that  was  so  eas- 
ily excited,  and  never  lost  amidst  all  her 
numberless  cares  and  anxieties.  She  would 
be  seen,  in  the  course  of  her  walks  in  the 
garden  and  courtyard,  caressing  and  play- 
ing with  the  kids,  the  little  chickens,  the 
young  pigeons,  &c.,  while  all  the  little 
creatures  seemed  quite  at  ease  in  her  hands, 
and  the  sisters  who  witnessed  such  scenes 
would  be  rfjminded  of  the  way  the  beloved 
apostle  recreated  himself.  Perhaps  the 
holy  nun  sympathized  in  her  heart  with 
the  blessed  Patriarch  of  Assisium,  who 
called  all  created  objects,  animate  and 
inanimate,  his  brothers  and  sisters.  While 
she  was  staying  at  Vaugirard,  every  day  a 
little  white  dove  came  to  her  chamber 
window  and  sought  admittance,  and  after 
awhile  took  up  its  abode  in  the  room; 
when  she  went  away  it  flew  oft*,  and  re- 
turned no  more,  nor  could  it  ever  be  dis- 
covered to  what  dovecote  it  belonged. 

Not  only  was  this  purity  of  soul  in  Sis- 
ter Seraphine  guarded  by  angelic  modesty 
and  profound  humility,  but  also  by  great 
and  universal  mortification.  Notwith- 
standing her  natural  delicacy  of  constitu- 
tion, and  the  feebleness  resulting  from  her 
frequent  and  serious  illnesses  and  the  men- 
tal and  physical  fiitigues  caused  by  her 
numerous  labors,  she  practiced  an  auster- 
ity of  life  certainly  far  above  her  apparent 
strength  to  bear.  This  her  humility  liid 
from  almost  all  eyes  under  the  veil  of  sim- 
plicity and  entire  conformity  to  the  com- 
mon life.  Obedience  often  checked  her 
fervor.  She  meditated  on  and  applied  to 
herself  the  words  of  St.  Paul ;  "  I  will  fill 
up  those  things  that  are  wanting  of  the 
sufferings  of  Christ." 

While  she  was  strongly  attracted  to  ex- 
terior practices  of  mortification,  and,  as 


far  as  permitted,  followed  this  attraction' 
she  yet  never  neglected  the  restraints 
imposed  by  prudence  in  this  respect,  or 
the  spirit  of  her  institute,  which  enjoined 
that  interior  mortification  should  be  prin- 
cipally sought.  She  perceived  the  neces- 
sity of  keeping  rebellious  nature  under  con- 
trol, and  spoke  forcibly  of  this  necessity, 
using  nearly  the  same  expression  as  P. 
Surin :  "  To  save  the  soul,  we  must  ever, 
if  need  be,  sacrifice  the  body."  "  If  the 
temptation  is  pressing,"  she  said  to  a  sister 
whom  sickness  had  obliged  to  suspend  cer- 
tain penances  imposed  on  her,  "  if  the 
temptation  is  violent,  I  would  not  have  you 
to  consider  your  health  at  all.  If  circum- 
stances make  mortification  needful,  it 
should  be  resorted  to  even  if  you  were 
dying.  Then  in  the  most  feeling  manner 
she  spoke  of  the  terrible  misfortune  of 
falling  into  sin,  repeating  over  and  over: 
"Death  is  nothing  compared  to  the  danger 
of  offbnding  God."  It  has  been  said  that 
while  thus  laying  great  stress  on  the  neces- 
sity of  exterior  mortification.  Sister  Sera- 
phine yet,as  enjoined  by  her  rule,  gave  inte- 
rior mortification  even  higher  regard.  It  is 
impossible  to  give  any  adequate  idea  of 
the  fidelity  with  which  she  practiced  it, 
bringing  into  subjection  to  its  laws  the 
will,  the  mind,  the  heart,  the  imagination, 
and  all  the  senses,  keeping  all  the  powers 
of  the  soul  in  entire  submission  to  the 
guidance  of  grace.  She  succeeded  in  so 
wholly  subduing  self-seeking  that  it  might 
be  said  to  be  annihilated  in  her,  and  that 
she  did  nothing  for  the  sake  of  mere  natu- 
ral satisfaction.  Her  fidelity  to  mortifica- 
tion of  the  senses  contributed  much  to 
bestow  on  her  that  appearance  of  modest 
dignity  that  it  has  been  said  was  habitual 
to  her.  Whether  she  worked  in  her  cell 
or  sat  in  conversation  with  the  prelates  of 
the  Church  or  the  nobles  of  the  land,  her 
manner  of  conducting  herself  was  always 
the  same.  She  habitu.illy  sat  erect,  with- 
out support  for  the  back ; — some  one  asked 
her  if  it  was  not  veiy  fatiguing?  "I  am 
so  used  to  it,  it  costs  me  no  eflfort,*'  she  re- 
plied. Happy  habit  that  put  the  spirit  of 
sacrifice  in  place  of  the  exigencies  of  nature ! 


350 


AVE      MARIA. 


Children's  Department. 


Nay  OflTerings- 


[Written  for  the  littl*  reader*  of  the  An  Maua.] 


BT  ELLEN  MABY  LEE. 

"Oh,  mamma!  this  must  be  May!"  ex- 
claimed a  lovely  child  of  six  summers, 
rosy  and  glad  from  her  merry  sport  in  the 
pure  morning  air.  "  I  am  sure  it's  May, 
for  I've  been  running  down  the  avenue, 
and  the  grass  is  ever  so  green  and  long, 
and  the  fields  are  full  of  little  white  dai- 
sies, and  I  found  these  violets  in  your 
garden,  and  the  birds  are  singing  so  sweetly 
and — and —  it  feels  just  like  it  ought  to  be 
May." 

When  the  enthusiastic  little  creature 
stopped  to  breathe  after  this  graphic  de- 
scription of  what  ought  to  be,  her  mother 
smilingly  replied  that  the  following  Satur- 
day would  be  the  first  of  May. 

"Next  Saturday,"  returned  Mary;  "how 
many  days  is  that  off"?  Wednesday,  one  ; 
Thursday,  two;  Friday,  three.  Oh!  only 
three  days  more  and  then  will  come  May- 
day; won't  it  mamma?  Then  I'll  be 
dressed  all  in  white,  and  have  a  wreath  on 
my  head,  to  crown  the  new  statue, — won't 
I,  mamma  ?"  In  this  strain  had  Mary  been 
prattling  and  questioning  for  the  last 
month.  She  was  an  only  child,  and  her 
good  mother  had  instilled  into  her  young 
heart  the  principles  of  religion  and  a  ten- 
der devotion  to  the  Holy  Mother  of  God. 
Great  was  her  delight,  then,  when  the 
lealous  pastor  of  St.  Agnes'  made  choice 
of  "  little  Mary,"  as  he  called  her,  to  crown 
the  Queen  of  May. 

"  And,  dear  mamma,"  continued  the 
child,  embracing  her  mother,  "  you  prom- 
ised to  take  me  to  Mass  with  you  every 
morning  in  May,  and  to  give  me  flowers 
for  Blessed  Mother's  altar  because  that's 
her  month." 

"Yes,  my  child,  I  did;  and  I  also  said 
we  should  take  some  clothes  to  poor  Mrs, 


Tracy's  little  children.  You  know  you 
cried  last  Sunday,  because  they  were  out 
in  the  cold  rain  and  had  no  shoes  to  wear?" 

"  Oh  ! — yes  !  and  Annie,  the  one  with 
such  nice  curly  hair,  looked  so  hard  at 
my  new  doll  when  she  came  here  the  other 
day,"  said  Mary  very  thoughtfully. 

The  three  days  passed  away  too  slowly 
indeed  for  many  heaits  that  were  longing 
for  May-day ;  but  they  were  gone  at  last, 
and  the  first  of  May  dawned  beautiful  and 
bright. 

After  breakfast  Mr.  Loring  brought  his 
daughter  a  bunch  of  lilies,  roses  and  helio- 
tropes out  of  their  own  greenhouse,  with 
a  few  sweet  violets  out  of  mamma's  gar- 
.den  ;  this  was  to  be  her  first  May-ofiering. 
In  her  childish  delight  she  kissed  him 
again  and  .again,  telling  him  how  pleased 
the  Blessed  Mother  would  be  to  have  such 
nice  flowers.  In  the  midst  of  her  rapture 
she  caught  sight  of  a  basket  which  a  serv- 
ant was  carrying  in  the  direction  of  the 
gate.  She  evidently  guessed  what  it  con- 
tained, for  she  begged  her  mamma  to  wait 
just  one  minute,  and  ran  off",  returning  in 
a  short  time  with  her  own  little  basket 
packed  with  all  sorts  of  toys,  dolls,  balls, 
tables,  houses,  dogs  and  horses,  etc^  all, 
I  must  confess,  a  little  the  worse  for  the 
wear.  Seeing  her  parents  smiling  at  the 
strange  medley  of  headless  horses,  dogs, 
etc.,  she  said  very  wisely :  "  Well,  these 
are  better  to  play  with  than  that  old  bottle, 
dressed  up  in  a  petticoat,  little  Janie  was 
kissing  and  hugging  the  other  day." 

The  fond  parents  agreed  with  the  child, 
and  admired  her  thoughtfulness.  Mrs. 
Loring  and  Mary  then  started  for  St.  Agnes' 
church,  which  was  but  a  short  distance  from 
their  pleasant  home.  On  their  way  they 
stopped  at  the  widow  Tracy's,  who  wel- 
comed them  with  a  blessing.  While  Mrs. 
L;  was  emptying  the  basket  which  the  man 
had  laid  on  the  floor,  and  the  poor  woman 
uttered  many  thanks  and  many  a  heartfelt 
prayer,  our  heroine  was  displaying  the 
contents  of  her  basket  and  exhibiting  the 
feats  of  some  of  her  pets  to  an  astonished 
group  in  the  far  corner  of  the  room.  And 
many  an  "Oh!    oh  !"  was  heard,  as  with 


AVE       MARIA. 


851 


wide-open  eyes  and  extended  hands  they 
gazod,  half  in  pleasure  half  in  fear,  at  the 
crying  babies,  barking  dogs,  etc. — What 
if  the  doll  was  minus  a  leg  or  an  arm ! — 
could'nt  it  cry  ? 

Mrs.  Loring  resumed  her  walk  to  church, 
feeling  happier  for  having  been  able  to 
brighten  up  the  widow's  cot  with  that  first 
ray  of  May  sunshine.  Mary  walked  along 
merrily,  talking  over  the  surprise  and  glad- 
ness of  her  little  friends.  She  was  happy, 
too, — for  she  felt  she  had  made  others 
happy. 

Arriving  at  St.  Agnes*,  the  little  girl 
placed  her  other  offering  before  the  altar 
of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  and  after  Mass  re- 
turned home  full  of  the  great  event  of  the 
day. 

The  evening  hour  is  closing,  and  our 
dear  Mary,  in  her  robe  of  innocence, 
looks  like  a  little  angel  as  she  takes  her 
place  in  the  ranks.  Amid  the  singing  of 
May-hymns  and  the  perfume  of  "  earth's 
fairest  flowers"  the  procession  moves 
gently  along,  till  it  reaches  a  retired  grove 
in  which  a  pretty  rural  chapel  has  been 
improvised  for  May-day.  Here,  clustering 
around  the  graceful  image  of  the  Queen 
of  May,  her  devoted  clients  sing  "  Hail 
Virgin,  dearest  Mary,"  etc. — that  hymn  so 
dear,  so  familiar  to  all  her  children.  At 
the  words 

"And  now,  our  Blessed  Mother, 

Smile  on  our  fi'stal  day  ; 
Accept  our  wreath  of  flowers 
And  be  our  Queen  of  May, " 

our  own  Mary  comes  forth,  and  ascending 
the  steps  of  the  altar,  places  lovingly  upon 
that  modest  brow  her  wreath  of  snowy 
lilies.  The  exercises  closed  with  an  Act 
of  Consecration  to  the  Blessed  Virgin. 

Mrs.  Loring  endeavored  to  strengthen 
the  devotion  of  her  daughter  towards  our 
Blessed  Lady  ;  she  also  encouraged  her  in 
her  charity,  and  always  took  her  to  visit 
poor  families  in  the  vicinity  of  their  home. 
She  was  rewarded  for  her  care,  and  four 
years  later  we  find  Mary  a  model  of  charity 
and  kindness  to  the  poor  and  devotion  to 
the  Quoeu  of  Heaven. 


Once  more  this  dear  child  is  looking 
forward  to  May -day.  This  indeed  is  to  be 
for  her  a  day  of  joy — the  happiest  of  her 
life — the  day  of  her  First  Communion,  and 
the  day  of 

Although  being  rather  indisposed  for 
several  days  previously,  this  pious  child 
was  up  with  the  lark,  and  looked  out  upon 
the  glorious  sunrise — the  last  she  might 
behold  on  earth — with  a  soul  overflowing 
with  anticipated  happiness. 

This  indeed  was  a  great  May-day  in 
the  little  church  of  St.  Agnes,  for  the  ven- 
erated Archbishop  was  there.  At  the  knees 
of  the  saintly  prelate  she  received  the  name 
of  Agnes — her  own  choice — and  the  Pax 
tecum. 

A  few  minutes  later  Mary  Agnes  knelt 
before  that  altar  where  she  had  so  often 
laid  her  May-offerings,  and  received  into 
her  pure  soul  the  Word  made  flesh.  Oh  ! 
happy  moment !  The  young  communicant 
returned  to  her  place  in  an  ecstasy  of  holy 
joy.  Before  the  conclusion  of  the  service 
she  was  seized  with  a  faintness,  and  was 
borne  from  the  church  in  her  father's  arms. 
He  placed  her  in  the  carriage  in  her 
mother's  lap,  and,  taking  the  reins  from  the 
driver's  hand,  drove  slowly  lest  the  motion 
of  the  carriage  should  annoy  his  darling 
child.  She  was  soon  laid  upon  her  bed  and 
discovered  to  have  a  burning  fever^  A 
physician  was  summoned^  who  pronounced 
it  a  violent  attack  of  brain  fever,  and  gave 
the  distressed  parents  little  reason  to  hope. 
They  never  left  her  bedside  during  the 
long  hours  of  her  delirium,  although  it 
was  rending  their  hearts  to  see  the  agony 
and  to  listen  to  the  incoherent  ravings  of 
the  little  sufferer. 

Towards  evening  the  fever  abated  con- 
siderably, and  to  the  great  delight  of  the 
watchers  she  fell  into  a  sweet  sleep  which 
lasted  a  couple  of  hours.  On  awaking  she 
extended  her  arms  towards  her  parents, 
who  were  still  beside  her ;  and  taking  a 
hand  of  each,  she  said  in  a  weak,  low  tone : 
"O  father, — mother!  I  had  such  a  nice 
dream.  I  thought  the  Blessed  Mother  took 
me  into  a  beautiful  room.  There  1  saw  an 
altar  and  statues,  and  so  many  flowers,  that 


35S 


AVE      MARIA. 


I  knew  I  had  seen  some  place  before ;  and 
when  I  was  wondering,  the  Blessed  Virgin 
said  :  '  See,  my  good  child,  here  are  your 
May-ofFerings.  I  have  kept  them  all.  The 
flowers,  you  sec,  are  withered — even  the 
wreath  of  lilies  which  you  placed  on  my 
statue  on  that  May-Day,  years  ago.  The 
flowers  are  faded,  but  those  acts  of  love 
will  always  live  in  my  heart.  And  here 
are  your  other  offerings,  which  have  not 
faded,  but  which  have  become  brighter 
and  brighter,  and  which  will  soon  be 
woven  into  a  golden  crown  for  you.'  And, 
mother,  what  do  you  think  I  saw? — The 
little  shoes  and  dresses  and  all  kinds  of 
garments  I  gave  to  those  poor  little  chil- 
dren !  Oh,  dearest  mother,  they  seemed 
so  few  in  that  beautiful  place  I — how  I 
wish  I  had  given  more  !"  Her  voice  grew 
very  faint,  and  she  closed  her  eyes  a  few 
moments,  during  which  a  ray  of  the  setting 
May-sun  streamed  in  upon  her  bed  and 
lent  a  something  of  heaven  to  that  peace- 
ful countenance  as,  her  lips  parting  in 
a  smile,  she  continued  in  a  whisper 
— "  And  then  she  took  me  over  towards 
the  altar,  which  had  changed  into  a 
bright  golden  throne.  On  this  throne  was 
seated  our  Lord  Himself,  so  dazzlingly 
beautiful  that  I  could  not  look  into  His 
face.  He  blessed  me,  and  taking  a  crown 
from  an  angel  near  Him,  said :  '  My  child, 
you  crowned  My  Mother  Queen  of  May,  I 
crown  you  maid  of  honor  to  the  Queen  of 
heaven  ;  receive  this  crown  as  a  reward  of 
your  devotion  to  her  and  of  your  charity 
to  the  poor,  for  whatsoever  is  done  to  the 
least  of  these  little  ones  is  done  unto  Me  !' " 
She  then  crossed  her  hands  upon  her  breast 
whispering,  "It  is  a  lovely  crown,  audit 
does  not  hurt  my  head."  The  last  words 
were  scarcely  caught  by  the  sobbing  par- 
ents, who  hung  over  the  bed  of  their  dying 
child,  as  with  a  gentle  sigh  the  sweet 
Bl)irit  took  its  flight  to  the  better  world. 

Such,  my  little  friends,  is  the  history  of 
Mary  and  her  May-offerings.  Do  you  also 
bring  offerings  during  this  sweet  month 
to  our  Mother's  altar.  Bring  lilies,  roses, 
and  mignonette,  and  heliotrope  and  for- 
get-me-nots.     What  are  the  real  forge^ 


me-nots?  Charity  to  the  poor,  my  little 
ones.  Give  something  in  honor  of  Mary 
to  the  orphans,  or  other  poor  children ;  de- 
prive yourselves  of  some  pleasure  this 
month,  that  you  may  be  able  to  present  some 
of  these  forget-me-nots  to  the  Queen  of 
May.  Weave  her  a  wreath  of  such  blos- 
soms, and  you  will  be  planting  forget-me- 
nots  in  heaven.  Kemember  the  consoling 
words  of  our  Lord  to  Mary  in  her  last  ill- 
ness :  "  Whatsoever  you  did  to  one  of 
these  little  ones  you  did^nto  Me." 

>V..-.  ^       ^f\'.^i\,,^i .   _     .. .- 

^.^C^tZ^'  The  Close  of  May.  ^^  '*^. 

Through  difficulties  must  Mary's  chil- 
dren follow  her,  if  they  would  really  be- 
come her  children. 

The  silent,  speechless  struggle  of  Mary's 
life,  which  shall  be  fully  disclosed  only  at 
the  last  day,  is  a  fit  subject  for  meditation 
at  the  close  of  the  month  of  May.  We  are 
all  seeking  pleasure,  we  are  all  seeking 
ease, — as  if  we  all  did  not  know  that 
virtue  is  the  fruit  of  struggle; — that  the 
May-blossoms,  beautiful  as  they  are,  must 
be  scattered  by  the  winds  ere  the  fruit  can 
be  firmly  set  which  is  to  ripen  into  a  "pow- 
er of  life." 

The  cross  of  human  life,  is  necessary  to 
the  formation  of  the  character;  it  comes 
after  the  May  has  put  forth  the  promise  of 
sweet  dispositions,  to  strengthen  those  dis- 
positions and  form  them  into  life-giving 
fruit.  The  sweetness  of  youth  passes  away 
even  as  the  breezes  pass  over  the  surface 
of  the  lake,  bearing  fragrance  into  the  at- 
mosphere but  leaving  a  germ  for  develop- 
ment behind,  which  will  need  all  the  care 
of  the  artist  to  tend,  foster,  and  develop 
into  the  perfection  for  which  it  is  designed. 

Then,  dear  children  who  have  sung  the 
songs  of  May,  please  to  remember  that  for 
the  future  you  must  watch  over  the  buds 
it  has  left  behind,  and  endeavor  to  form 
them  into  patience,  industry,  and  kindness, 
— the  distinguishing  qualities  by  which 
Mary  was  known  to  her  neighbors;  qual- 
ities which  hid  the  higher  attrtbutes  by 
which  she  was  united  to  God. 

M.  A.  Gell. 


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