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The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes ou les planches trop grandes pour dtre reproduites en un seul cliche sont filmdes d partir de Tangle supdrieure gauche, de gauche d droite et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Le diagramme suivant illustre la mdthode : 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 If i^^'^^,^^^ ■^c^^^"^. U 004961 PJtl?i'(!irAL ENGLISH WRITINGS OF THE LATE J. DOHERTY PREFACED BY A SKETCH or ins LIl-'E '• Dikctus Deo et hominibus. >> 'I QUEBEC PRINTED BY L. H. HUOT Proprietor of " Le Caiiadieu. »' 1873. Sx/9/^ 6 ><: JMlTvlALATUR: ' '\ E. A., Archpus. Quebecen ►•■'■^ PREFACE. Immediately after Father Doherty^s death we published his principal French writings. To-day we are happy to com- plete our task by giving to the public his F]nglish productions. Although Mr. Dolierty wrote these pages not dream- ing that tliey would ever be published, yet we believe they are well worthy of ] )erusal, and that they reveal a superior mind and distinguished literary talent. We will say no more here, leaving to the public to appreciate their merits. At the beginning of this voiame will be found the short biographical sketch which i^receded his French writings. L.H. P. ^- , ■ IB f~^ — ■ v» 'J. BIOaRAPHIOAL SKETCH UF TIIK LATE REV. P. J. DOHERTy. " Comummalus in hrcvl exph^rli iempora multa. Being made porfect, in a short space he fullUJed a long time. (Wisdom, I^^, i:].) Ihese words of Holy Writ moot with their happicsl apphcation m the young priest whose recent loss the entire country bitterly deplores. Mr. Dohertv lived but a short time, scarcely thirty years from the cradle to tlie grave ; hut in that brief space he managed to group the works and labours ofalono and eventful life. If we are to judge the man, the (christian, the priest, not by the number of days which God allots to him, but by the liappy use of the talents and powers with which God has enrich- ed him, we may with certainty say that in truth iMr poherty is one of those' who have lived lono- i ^^il little time. ^ (*) This biographical sketch has been translated from tlic; French of the Kev. L. II. P.lquet, professor, Laval University. I/); ! I — G~ Mr. Doherty was born at Quebec on the 2nd of June, 1838. His father, Patrick Doherty, and his mother, Bridget Byrne, had both oniigratod from Ireland, bringing with them, as their only treasure, the most unsullied reputation and that nnwavei'iug attachment to the Gatbolic faith which characterizes the noble children of Green Ki*in. At the baptismal font he received the traditional name of Patrick. Rejoicing in the birth of this son that she had so often asked from the Lord, his mother desired thenceforward to devote bini to the Priesthood, hoping that God would I'calize the desire of her heart, and would give to her child the precious grace of vocation. That maternal vow, hispired by grace and gi'atitude, soon began to be realized. Little Patrick had scarcely begun to prattle when he already used to declare, with that childish guilelessness free from all doubt, that \u) wished to be a priest. Doubtless this was the mo- ther's vow finding an echo on the lips of the child as yet unable to grasp its meaning or its bearing. This i3elieving woman did not fail to see, in the innocent trait we liave cited, a presage ihat made her hiippy. Her joy was at its height, and her maternal heart dilated with content and happiness, when the child, interrupting the recital of his alphabet upon his mother's knees, used to suddenly turn towards her and say : " Mamma, 1 assure you that T sliall be ii ^' priest, and that I shall preach to you a sermon for '* YOur salvation." A 'i'\ Thus it was from the lips of his mother that he received the first rudiments of instruction, and drank in sentiments of the most tender devotion, especially towards the Blessed Vii'gin. Excellent school, best of all schools, that of a trulv Cliiistian — 7 — mother. Never did lie forget the lessons he received then. What the heart helps us to learn is not easily»forgotten. The youthful Patrick, like other children ol' his age, had, however, to he sent to a public school. Preference was given to that of an excelhnit Irish Catholic, Mr. Kennedy. This good man's science was, perhaps, a little limited ; but his failli w.'is boundless; and that was, after all, the most inipor tant point. The progress of Patrick, under his new master, was very rapid. He had hardly been three years takin,^ lessons from Mr. Kennedy when the latter said In him, one day : " My dear friend, yon must clinnqc "your school, because I have now taught you all " that I know." Patrick bade adieu to the good ]\h'. Kennedy to enter the school of the Brothers of tlie Christian Doctrine. Those excellent masters, as modest as they are devoted, prepared him for his first commu- nion. It is impossible to describe the angelic piety with which Patrick, at the age of ten, accomplished that act, so touching, — that act, the most impoi-iant, perhaps, in the life of a Christian. He was already the model of all his little comrades ; and everv one admired the candour of his features, tiie sweet- ness of his countenance, the grace of his manners, and the piquant vivacity of his mind. The priests who then ministered in St.Patrick's Church, and the lie v. Mr. McMahon, of illustrious memory, in particular, had not failed to take special notice of the pretty child with the winning ways who took such in- terest and pleasure in the things of the sanctuary. "What a pity," they used to say to each other, " that so rare a subject should not be placed in the " Seminary ; he would, wilhout doubt, make a " remarkable priest." Nothing, however, as yet, induced them to ui'ge — 8 "if- !f ' . the matter. Mor jver, the time that Patrick spent al the Brothers' school was not thrown away. There, nnder the vi^ihint eye of his masters, germinated hi his lieart those happy sentunents that Ifis j^ood mother had sown in it at the onlset, and wliic.h sin* continned to cnltivate in the intervals left to h(M' dear Patrick between schoohhonrs. Mr. Dohertv never for<]fot the two or three vears he passed at the Brotliers' school. Nothing con Id eqnal the respect lie preserved, throngh life, I'oi" those early instructors of his yonth. He had for them a sort of veneration ; and we heard him des crihe, qnite recently, the lively and salutary ini pression made upon his mind by those simple and devoted men. " I did not nnderstand all of tiiem," he nsed to say, amiably ; '' 1 did not nnderstand a '^ word of French ; bnt even when they prayed in '' French, I shared, in listening to them, the live- " liest emotions." * Nevertheless, the time had come for him to mak(^ a new change in his life. His talents, his applica- tion to stndy, had advanced him rapidly in his classes; and Patrick, for his age, had an anionnt of instrnction snlFicient to permit him to embrace tli(» career of trade. He experienced for a moment the temptation of following that career. Singnlarly enongh, his mother, who had hitherto dreamt of nothing bnt the Priesthood for her child, appeared to enter into the new views of Patrick, and had even procnred him a situation in a commercial honse. Bat this temptation — for it was one — was soon dissipated. God had special views upon yonng Patrick : He permitted, in time, a happy intervention, which recalled the son and the mother to their original idea. One of the priests of St. Patrick's '"-liiircli, nioi'r and inoi-e impressed with Uio di.spo- i^ilioiis and (|iialiLi('s dI' the child, soon induced Mrs. Dohcrlv to conri(Mit that !ho 1)0V shonhl ho placed ;is an extern scholar in the Seminary ol Quehec. From the time of his (uitrance there Avas not .; moment's hesitation in his mind. He was d(!ler- mined to consecrate himself to God, and ho applie'.. .. 1 -13 irn of Ited rith jely in The year 186i, wliick was his tliird year in the Grand Seminaire^ deserves special mention. Those who, like ourselves, have heen in a position to know his scrupnlous regularity, his spirit of self-sacrifice and abnegation, will not he surprised to learn that he believed himself called to the religions state. While yet a scholar he had thought of becoming a Jesuit, and spoke of his intention to some of his friends. From the time of his entrance in the Grand Seminary he had been leisurely maturing that idea of his youth. After having prayed, consulted, and obtained the prayers of others, he made np his mind, made generously to God the sacrifice of his liberty, of hi? friends, his family, and, with one vigorous stroke, shattered the thousand ties that liad bound him so strongly to his birth-place. We \vere more pained than surprised at receiving in Rome a letter in which he informed us of this im- portant decision : ((When you shall have received (( this letter,)) he wrote us, (( I shall be a novice with « the Jesn its, with the grace of God, on the 18th July. « Congratulate me, my dear friends, on having been « the object of such kindness from the Lord ; for « you know it is a great grace to be called to a re- « iigious life.)) And after having commended him- self to our prayers, he bade us adieu before des- cending, with a joyful heart, in'o that tomb of the noviciate where the young man, singled out by God, must renounce his own will, that he may give him- self up entirely to that of his Divine Master. God was satisfied with the sacrifice. One thing only was wanting in his vocation, an essential thing in the severe life of a Jesuit : it was health. Four days after his entry in the noviciate he was, as he himself wrote to us, " on his pallet, at- tacked wath pleurisy." He was, therefore, compelled to return to the Grand Seminaire — not that he re- nounced his cherished idea of becoming a Jesuit, but 1 1" U l! hoping tlitil linio would briug liiiii the necessary strength to follow what he always believed to be ais vocation. Having never gained snilicienl health to j'csume Jio noviciate thns prematurely interrupted, he bad, •Jt least, the consolation of having done all in his power to accomplish the will oi' God : no doubt he Jias also, in the eyes of Heaven, the merit of a fWofold sacrifice. ill W m m u II i m] Mr. Dohcrly entered Holy Orders sliortly after his leturn j'roni the noviciate, and added to his baptis- nnil name that of Joseph^ wishing to ally his devo- tion for that great saint with that which he ever entertained for the Blessed Virgin. Ordained Priest on tlie 11 tli March, 1865, he cele- brated his first Mass in the church of the Ursuline nuns, v/here, some time previously, as a Deacon, he had delivered his first sermon. From that epoch dates for Mr. Doherty that activu life, that useful and brilliant ministry, which is known to every one, of which all remember the chief acts ; and which was marked, for the few years of his sacerdotal career, by many and signal services to religion. We have already mentioned the happy character with which Providence had endowed him : he united the finest qualities of the heart and of the intellecl. His amiabilitv, the affability of his man- ners, were equalled only by that Irish wit, so quick, so original, that every one admired, and of wdiich the source appeared inexhaustible. We shall not c, and ill a j;real many ol' I ho country parishes, both in lM'(nu'h and in I']uglisli. Naturally, even jKission- ately Jbndot' proaching; liaving tlie greatest facility in i)i"eparation ; speaking without the slightest ellbrf, save that of pjiysical sti-ength, which he despised, h(^ was just the man lo be invited to preach every- v/here, at any moment ; and he was too good "to refuse. He preached at St. Patrick's Chnrcli a whole Advent and an entire Lent, besides a great many de- tached sermons, all of which were listened to with adinii-ation by the Irish population. lie further gave at the Si. Patrick's Institute, of which he was for some lime l^resident, many lectures on various subjects, both literary and religions, lie ever suc- ceeded, thanks to the immense resources of his mind, in deeply interesting the numerous audiences that always drew after him ; and on one or two oc- casions, amongst others, when it became necessary to defend the Irish race from the unjust attacks of a minister from Montreal, Mr. Irvine, the Hall of the Institute was found too small for the number of those who desired to liear him, and the vast propor- tions of the iMusic Hall had to be secured for the occasion. The St. Patrick's institute did not fail to acknow- ledge Mr. Doherty's important services on many oc- casions. Indeed, the special meeting which took place immediately after his death, the resolutions of condolance voted there, the presence of all the members in a body at his funeral, attest how proud wcvo the Irish population to possess within their ranks a A'ouni;" Priest so distinguished as Mr. Doherty. • '•> It is a remarkable fact that he was equally fami- -It- liar with tlie French and Enj^lish hmguages, either in writing or in speaking. Wc were even inclined to think that he had a more prol'onnd knowledge of the langnage in which he had pnrsnod liis classic stndies ; hut those who have perused his English writings alhrni that the language of Shakspeari; had no more secrets for him tiian that of Bossuet. He often wrote, as it is well known, to refute error 0'' to combat the calumnies spread in certain jour- nals by prejudiced or ignorant minds. His polemics were always refined, polished, and ever supported ])y the beot argumentation. In order to convey as exact an idea as possible of the labours which occu- pied Mr. DoherLy during the lirst years of his sacer dotal life, we should mention liere several conver- sions to the Catholic Church, which are due to his skill and to his zeal. One can easily nnderstand the joy he felt on bringing back to the fold those poor strayed sheep. "I think, "he wrote, in May, 1805, upon the conversion of an important personage, who had even been a Minister of the "Higli Chnrcli,'' '•'■ 1 really believe there is nothing so consoling, so touching, as to behold the abjuration of a Protestant. Let us beseech God to increase the number of those happy returns." Assuredly, he is now receiving from those whom he recalled to the true faith thai l)Owerful aid of prayer which he then invoked for them. > i The year 1869 found Mr. Dohcrty much enfeebled in health. It was evident that his office of Professor, combined with tlie outside labors which his ardour led him to undertake, was becoming too fatiguing for the delicacy of his constitntion. He resolved, but not without grief, to bid adieu to the Seminary, and to devote himself entirely to the^sarenlotal func I ■ r ':■; 'I h. ,1 .^1^' . f %' !■ I' it , I ■ I — 18 — tions, of which ho liad hilherLo shared the hihours, more through zeal than as a duty. But, before taking a now position, he wished to visit Europe and Iho Holy Land. Sucli had long been his favourite dream. At last he had the happi- ness to visit Ireland, the land of his fathers ; to assist at the opening of the great Council; to receive the benediction of the inunortal Pontiff ; to embrace with love that sacred soil sprin ivied with the blood of Jesus Christ, lie performed the voyage as a man of mind and sentiment, not satisfied with the barren admiration that leaves no lasting trace behind it, butseel^ing to store up for his soul, of a Christian and a Priest, a treasure of precious reminiscences, from which he might continually derive the sweetest and most pious emotions. Hereafter, doubtless, some one shall publish the narrative of his journey and the letters that he wrote from Rome and from Jerusalem to his sister(i) and to some friends. We have been happy enough to peruse several of those pages impressed with faith and admirable piety; of those magnificent descrip- tions, in which are spread out before you all the wealth of his splendid imagination andall the endless resources of his mind. We would have wished to reproduce some of those pages; but, unfortunately for French readers, all that he wrote during his journey is in the English language. Of his stay at Rome we need mention one incident only : it was the close frien«^.ship he formed with the Canadian Zouaves. Those brave and noble youths were not lo«g in discovering in Mr. Doherty one of those minds ever ready to please, w-ith whom social relations are so agreeable. lie obtained among them, and throughout the (^) Sister 8t. (JhiH'stino, a mm in tlie Ursiiline Convent. — 19 (lit th Lhs of ial .he whole battalion, an immense popularity. As is well known, ho returned from Pvome in company with the firist detachment of our cour.'igeous defenders of the Pope, and was appohilod their chaplain during the voyage. Mis name has ever remained an order of the dav with those heroic ci'usaders of New France. On his return from Rome, in the spring of 1870, Mr. Dohorly was sent as vicar to St. Catherine's. It •was thought, no doubt, that a sujourn in the country wouhl be favourable to the recovery of his health, already endangered. The hope was vain : at the end of ten moiiihs, after having won at St. Catherine's, as he had done wlierevcu' else lie had gone, universal esteem and aihu'tiou, he returned to Quebec, to assume, at St. Roch's raid the Marine Hospital, the post left vacant by the death of the lamented Mr. Joseph Catellier. He had hardlv been insLalled in his new office when he was compelled to leave it,* It was for him a new and very painful sacrifice ; but his health re([uired it. His friends prevailed on him to seek in the climate of Georgia, U. S., the ri^covery of his sti'englh, which was becoming more and more exhausted. He was absent thn^e months; and when he returned, although he was not cured, there was, nevertheless, a most happy change in his condition. He was not allowed, however, to again fill the office of Chaplain to the Marine Hospital ; but he courageously resumed his former position as vicar at St. Roch's. It is there, in tliat good and religious parish of St. Roch's, under care the most attentive and the most hkely to restore his health, had such been the will of God, that Mr. Doherty passed the last year of a career full of labor and of good works. His friends, jiis colleagues, the excellent paslor, who ever (' , I: 1 ; '■ ^1' ■: 1 !l 1 t' ^,' ! 'Hi i' ^ M I. ti:i ., 1 t''i .A I ■ •!| — 20 — shewed liiin Ihe most cli;irl table, the most I'atherlv attention, — all desired to see him more careful of his health, more sparing of his strength. But how could so intense an ardour he moderated? How arrest and keep in repose that devouring activity which (lod had given him, and which he had devoted to the service of religion ? To prevent him from work- ing, to have restrained him from exercising that ministry unto souls, would have been to render him unhappy, and, perhaps, to have hastened the moment of his death. It was better, while regu- lating his zeal by friendly counsel, to leave it its necessary scope. His sojourn at the Parish of St. Roch's had not been long, scarcely a year since his trip to the South. Nevertheless, in that short space of time he often preached, and always with that talent of persuading and of going straight to the heart which ever dis- tinguished his sermons. During the last Lent, not- witlistanding his assiduity at the confessional, he found time to give to the members of the St. Vincent de Paul Society a series of conferences, in ^vhich lie narrated with graphic clearness the principal inci- dents of his journey to Rome and to the Holy Land. He was nrenarinff to nreach in the con.G:re.o:ation of St. Roch's for the solemn occasion of the 80th anni- versary of the birth of Pius IX., \vhen he felt the shock of the disease that ended his days. The entire population of St. Roch's were deeply attached to him, and loved him sincerely. One could never be tired of admiring in him that sweet charity that is ever seeking to console the sorrows of others, — that indefatigable zeal that never had any other care than to do good to souls, — that ten- der and confiding piety which edifies men and leads them to love God. We have already brielly mentioned the worship he had vowed to the Blessed Virgin. It had been ' i 01 its his ravonrito dcvolioii from I he; earliest veai's ol" liis inrancy ; and as lie advanced in life his h)V{» for Iho Mother of God l)eeame more and more livelv. His eloquence was adniirahle whenever lie uri^ached upon this subject, so dear to Jiis h(Nirl. Whenever he had a grace to obtain, it was to Mary that he ad- dressed himself, — to Mary, in whom he had placed all his confidence, and Avhose devoUnl and grateful child he shewed himself during liis whole lifetime. Indeed, it was during the beautiful mouth of Mary, in fulfilment of the desire he had expressed, that the Blessed Virgin came to withdraw from the world him who loved her tenderly, and who so often, in the pulpit and in the confessional, hud excited in the hearts of others the love of that Mother of Mercv. Mr. Dohertv was stricken in the very midst of the exercise of the most sacred and the most consoling ministry. On the evening before Ascension-day, after having heard confessions until a very late hour, he felt the first inroads of the cruel malady that snatched him from the alTections of us all. He literally passed from the i^onfessional to his death -bed. A stronger constitution, a state of health less shaken than his, might have had a chance of escaping the danger. As to him, already so weak, he was overpowered at once ; and he could not survive the first compli- cation. He died on the 20th of May, at about midnight, after having been fortified with the last rites of our Holy Religion. We shall say but little of his obsequies, which attracted to the vast church of St. Roch the most numerous and most fervent concourse it were pos- sible to witness. It can be said that the entire city took part in that demonstration of mourning. Catholics of both origins, mingling their ranks, their I ', .-., r'i,' .-^^ lU — 22 — u< J * I'*' ' 1 I'i (i 1 ! 1 f 1 regi'elB, and iJiclr hNirs, wIsIkuI to lohLity, by thoir presence, tlie prolbuiid ostoeni, llio sincere alTeclion, thtat for many rears lliey had besto\v(Ml on this young Priest, so good and so aniial)l(\ The clergy, in great nunibfM's, after having as- sisted at the soU}mn service chanted in the church of St. Roch, accompanied as far as the Ursnliiie Chapel the mortal remains of Mr. Dohri'ty. There, in peace, his body rejioses, nnder the pionscare of his beloved sister and the good Religions Ladies, who had always riglilly esteemed him ; while his soul enjoys already, we are conhdent, the re\\'ard of the just. •k Our task is ended. May this heebie token of friend- ship contribute to preserve intact and vivid the remembrance of the young Priest, whose loss so painfully affects both n.^ligion and onr country. We shall now let him ?p(\ak for himself,— him who knew so Vv'ell how to speak whenever he tried to enliven or to agreeably amuse, but especially to instruct and edifv ; and we wish for the reader the same pleasure that we experienced in perusing once more these pages, sometimes grave, though oftener gay and lightsome, but always amiable and witty, in which Mr. Doherty reveals himself with all the qualities he possessed. ! I f • "< ' -• 1 J. j^: T 'r E \i s WRITTEN in TIIH UEV. P. .1. DOIII^RTY DLRINC. llkSTUAVLiLS IN KIJROIM': AND THK TIOLV r,ANn. Dkrrv. Or(obc)' I2lli, 1809. DearSt. C, (M Tlie llrst gi'oat cpisodo is ovav. 'VUr, 0('(^aii is '•I'osscd, nnd wo (") now sit snugly ensconced in Mi's. I'\)y's front p.'U'loi' in Foyle street, Dorry-down-DeiTy. 1 will give you a rough sketch of our perils by land and sea. Saturday, 3rd Otiobcr. — We left the wharf at 10 A.M., and drifted lazily down the river till about 2 p.^f., when the tender brought us the Montreal passengers. Then to the right-about, and we were off at the rate of 1)3 knots an hour. 1 felt at first rather lonesome at leaving behind so many kind and loving hearts ; but a good dinner set us all in good humour; and after enjoying until night-fall the beautiful panorama the ' St. Lawrence unfolds in succession, we retired for the night. Sunday. — Arose after six. Morning devotions. Breakfasted at 8?}. Weather very rainy, but clear ed up about noon. As we passed the several little churches on either side of the river, we united in intention with the devout worshippers who en- joyed the privilege of attending at Holy Mass. Once or twice wt caught the sound of the prayer- (') Father Doherty's sister, who is a nun in the Ursulino Convent, Quebec. (^) Father Doherty had two or three confreres as his travel- ling companions. [:■■ M m' if!: I '■ I -24 bells, and they seemed to tell iis, in their own way, of the beaiitU'Lil link which hinds all Christians in the communion of Taith and merits. We acknow- ledged joyfully the doi^aiia, and hlcssed God for so bounteous a privilege. At 4 P.M. we stopp'jd at Father Point to send the pilot on shore with the mail-bags, and then the last connection was broken oft' with America. We must now make the trip whole and entire, save in case of shipwreck. We witnessed, after tea, a glorious sun- set: such gold-tipped clouds, such lightly-shifted scenery, such gorgeous heavens ! Truly then might we say : " The Heavens are telling the glories of God ! ■" When darkness set in around us, we sat for a long time at the stern contemplating tlife phosphor- escence that followed in the w^ake of our ship. A thousand bright sparks, like glow-worms, leap forth at every minule from the iDoiling surge, and are drowned in the waters, to be immediately succeeded by as many more. Monday. — A little child was buried this morning : it died last night. The burial was not very solemn, as far as ceremonies were concerned ; still, there was something impressive in the scene. Poor little thing! just eight months old, and already cast aw^ay into that dark rolling Hood, there to be for long nges in silent expectancy ! Tuesday. — The only land insight is Belle-Isle. The fogis very dense, so that we \vade cautiously Ihroaigh it all day. At 7 p.m. we arrive at the outermost point, called the Pointe (Vximour. We gaze with some- what of affection on this last stretch of land ; and a feeling of awe ci'eeps over us as we launch at last fully into the dark, dismal, night-covered ocean, so mighty, so trackless, so like eternity, if anything here below can be compared to it. Wednesday. — Here my manuscript fails until Satur- M 25 — \ \to in Iho igh id a last 'an, lins day. The vessel, which had been gliding so geiitly until now through the waters, began to roll and lurch from side to side. Now, it is all very well to be rocked in infancy ; but manhood cannot stand it, nor womanhood either. My dear C, if you have a spite against any one, just let me tell you how to punish him. Just get a big cradle, and rock him in it. If he does not cry out for mercy in a precious short time, his heart (not to speak of his stomach) must be less sensible than mine. Ugh! when I think of it! And how it changed people's manners, ' jo ! Staid, sober old fellows, that used to pace the deck with a solemn measure-tread, might now be seen rushing, from time to time, with most indecorous velocity, to the ship's side ; and there thev would remain for ten minutes at a time, jerking their bodies, and gazing intently and stu- pidly into the sea. Two persons conversing would suddenly turn from one another, and set to well ! — I will not say what ; but they would both shew unmistakeable signs of utter disgust ; yet, you would see them the next day as great friends as ever. And so on until Saturday morning, when every one seemed a little refreshed, and perhaps accus- tomed to the ship's motion. « • Still, I must say that we had a beautiful passage throughout, as far as Sunday, when it began to rain and blow in right good earnest. The winds whistled ; the vessel creaked ; the waves boiled and lashed, until Monday, at 6 o'clock, when we got to the lee of Tory Island, off the north coast of Ireland ; and the rest of the passage was calm enough, though rather tedious, as we did not reach Derry until four o'clock this morning, Tuesday, the 12th October. We were unfortunate enough to arrive in the ,t I 'I . Hi Iff, f k mil i! I' 'i' I f — 26 — dark, so that we could not enjoy the sight of the nor^h-wei?tei'n coast of Irehuid. ,; Deny, whi,(:h ,we have j,nst visited, is a handsome little towii of .22,000 inhabitants. Thirty years ago the Catholics were very few in nnmber ; now they number 13,000. We visited the Christian Bro- thers' school, built on the precise spot where St. Columba passed his youth. There are many historic souvenirs connected with Derry. Prominent among them is the great siege, when the Protestant susUiners of William beat back the Jacobites. Two monuments commemorate '' the glorious, piqus, and immortal rviemory. " ^. ... , . -i . . I > : Paris, Hallow-Eve, 3lst Oct., 1869. My dear S|;,,G., ,;:. ;i. . . •• «> -- - ......I have seen a great deal of country since last I wrote — Ireland, England, Belgium, Germany, and France ; and my candid, honest opinion of the whole is, that there is ho place like home. In fact, whe- ther from fatigue or constant change or cold (for it is very cold here, and has been for the last week), I often found myself Wishing- that I was once more at home, passing one of those pleasant Sunday evenings such as we used to pnss all together last winter. However, let us hope that they will return again — at least for most of us. I always pray, in those beautiful churchet> we visit, for the whole family and ray kind friends, that God' may bless and pre- serve them, and mayv^ give me the happiness of re- turning soon and safely among them once more. But there is no use m pining; and, indeed, I fear you will think that I have done nothing else than weep and lament for home since I left. It is true that I often think of home, and 'in dreams I have been back with you — 1 do not know how often ; gtillj -27 — le ' we have had a great deal of enjoyment, and have seen many, many strange sights, capable of pro- ducing lasting irnpressions and of giving much mo- mentary pleasure. In this letter I will teli you about my travels through Ireland only. Derry. — I told you in my last that I had landed safe in Londonderry. It is a beautiful little city, clean and orderly, and the Catholics are in a majority, though it is considered the bulwark of Orangeism. We saw the place where St. Golumbkille passed his youth at his father's castle : it is now occupied by the Christian Brothers. A beautiful Catholic cathe- dral is being built a little outside of the city. From Derry we went down the river Foyle, through Londonderry, and into the county Tyrone, and stopped at a handsome little town called Omagh, a little south of Lough Neagh, celebrated by Moore. The scenery is delightful all along, and, indeed, all through Ireland. The grass is certainly greener than in Caiuida ; its mountains undulate most grace- fully into lovely valleys ; even in the desolation of the vast b-^'^s there is something sweet and touch- ing. On liie hill-tops you see handsome ruins of old castles and abbeys ; ancVhere and there are the " round-towers of other days," standing out like lone sentinels on the mountains. OMACrH has a population of 13,000, mostly Catholic ; a handsome church, some fine public buildings, and a laiv't3 convent. But it is painful to notice how fierce parly-spirit is everywhere. Protestants and Catholics are at daggers drawn ; and on the fences, walls, and sides of houses, you see, written in chalk, epithets and phrases offensive to one or the other. Poor Ireland I — it is a pity that her fruitful soil bears such unhappy fruits of discord. ., . . Akmagu. — From the county Tyrone we went by Portadown to the county Armagh, in the midst of which lies, on four hills, the city of Armagh, an 28 — 1^ I nil i| l:i I • [rish compound, meaning ^' The hills of the wil- .ows." It was here, as you know, that St. Patrick established his primatial residence ; and, oh 1 what I thrill runs through the soul as you catch from the entrance of the town the first sight of the blessed spot! But, alas I though the church he built is still there on its primitive foundation, it is not the church that Patrick adorned by his virtues. It now belongs to the Anglicans, and they have removed m.any tokens of ancient piety. The cross of stone which he raised in the centre of the town is now lying in a dilapidated condition, near the west end of the cathedral, with the chair from which he taught. I kissed both reverently. On a hill oppo- site 'is a very grand Catholic church, in the Gothic style; it w^as bt'gun forty years ago by Bishop Crawly, and is now nearly completed. From Armagh we proceeded down the eastern coast of Ireland, through Dundalkand Drogheda, at the month of the river Bovne. The river is famous in history : it has at Drogheda a splendid bridge, nearly as handsome as the great Menai bridge which I saw in Wales some time later. At about 10 P.M. we i-ea^hed Dublin. I will not attempt to describe Dublin. It would take a whole letter to do it justice. We visited all its beauties : the Four Courts, the Bank, formerly the Parliament, its many churches, F'hffiuix-park, and Glasneviii cemetery. It is in Glasnevin that O'Connell is buried A round-tower marks the spot ; underneath is a crypt containing his body. I touched his coffin, and brought away a branch of holly that lay on it, after breatuing a prayer for the repose of his soul, and for the success of the great cause in the fur- therance of which he spent his life. '■' ' ' * •' ' ■' My companions left me in Dublin. They went on to London, and I continued my journey toward the south of Ireland. I took my ticket from Dub- ' I -^ i ! i 1 > :t !'t,i \¥ 29 — , lin to Nenagh, a town in Tipperarj. ; and after. pass , ing throngh Kildave and the King's county, 1 fonnd myself among the liills and dales of tlie most Irish] county of the hind. . Nenagh is a very pretty little market- town,, ol about 10.000 inhabitants ; and, as I have said^ it: lies in the very heart of Tipperary. I was veryj . much pleased to find here the real genuine Irish-i .man, with all his characteristics, outward andin-l ,.ward. The men — at least the fanners— all wear the| corduroy knee-breeches and swallow-tailed Goat'f with bright buttons. The dress shews off to .great|_ , advantage their fine athletic limbs. The women are v enveloped in the blue cloak with a large hood, f^ nnder which yon can disLiuguish a clean white ^ .- border of a cap. .. Everyone appears in good hiuiiour-: gay laugh- ^ ter and jokes ring around you on all sides. Here^^ you see the far-famed low-back-car, drawn by .an ass | or a jennet. Bv the wav, there is aninimense. num-l . ber of iisses in Tipperary ; but-, not like in many 'C . other places, they are all quadrupc(ls. Here, too,. you ■: ,.can see the janntingcar,— not, the jaunliiig-car, of .; Dublin, but the rale thing, in all its primit/iv<3,sim- c plicily. There are bell men, too, in Nenagh ; and I stopped to listen to one of them, who was giving, in a '• sing-song tone, the faithful description of a runaway , dog. who had been lost or stolen^ viilh liver-coloured i . hair and a aland up la 11^ and promised a. large reward :, : ,to the finder. There was also a ballad-singer under the window - towards night. He sang through hi nose, like a ..Yankee pedlar: ((All of a handsome maiden^ who .sthrolled down by the parlln\slhramc. \i You cannot imagine how interesting I fonufj all these things : they brought me back to the Traits and Stories by Carleton. - - , ..'..:■ :..... I hived a jaunting-car, and i'ode out among the 80 i' [i Wi \l il li V it : S c h n 1 c t s s ( c t i 1 1 i H : f In mountains, about six Irish miles, to Killeen. I have rarely met such beautiful scenery ; but, in general, the condition of the people is not to be envied, owing to the bad system of the land-tennre. They dare no.t make any improvements on their farms, for, if they did, the rent would be raised. A gentle- man in Nenagh told me that one of the farmers, whose daughter, a fine little girl of 12 years, desired to be sent to the convent, dared not send her ; for, if the landlord thought he was able to educate his ' daughter, he would make him pay more for the farm he holds. This abominable landlord-right, it is to be hoped, will soon be done away with ; and then the South will be able to compete advan- tageously with the North. I next went to Limerick. The cathedral, 900 yctirs old, is now in the hands of the Anglicans. I saw the famous Treaty-stone. 1 crossed the Shannon, and examined the fortress, which still bears the marks of some hard fighting. Cork. — Sweet Cork! It may not be so large as Dublin, but it certainly is handsomer : its streets are wider than those of the capital, and many of its buildings are fresher and better proportioned. And then there is the river Lee ! '* Oh ! the bells of Shandon, They sound so grand on The pleasant waters of the river Lee !" " I have seen the Hudson and the Sagucnay, the St. Lawrence and the Rhine ; but the river Ijpc sur- passes them all. I drove up the banks of the river as far as Blackrock convent, which is just by the castle, and in sight of the ruins of the castle of O'Connor ; and no one could wish to see anything grander. I saw Blarney-castle, in Sleepy Hollow, a fine old ruin ; but let me be distinctly understood when I say that I did not kiss the Blarney-stone. From Cork I hurried off to Watkrford ; and, oh! TCi>#»a'-' - 31 — how shall I describe what I saw there ? How shall 1 tell half the kindness, the true Irish hospitality I met with in the.Ursuline Convent of St. Mary? It is quite a princely building, about two miles out of town. The interior is beautifully fitted up, and the new buildings will be really magnificent. But neither the tall waving trees, nor the rich gardens, nor the heavenly chapels, nor the beautiful classes, are anything when compared to the golden hearts that are shut up in this sweet secluded spot But I must stop here ; else I would be templed to write volumes on all 1 heard and saw, not to speak of the classes, in which I had the pleasure of meeting the pupils. I have often heard of Irish thrushes ; but I can safely say that no thrush ever sang half so sweetly as these young Irish ladies. And now for Kilkenny ! It is a charming town, with a great noble castle. I did not stay long in it, but started off, through the Queen's county, for Dublin, and thence for England, passing through Wales. Lyon, 15 Novembro 1869. Ma chere Ste. C, (i) Je t'ai deja donne un recit assez sommaire de mon. voyage en Irlande, jusqu'a mon retour a Du- blin ; c'est done la que je veux commencer aujour- d'hui, apres t'avoir dit ou je suis et en quelle com- pagnie je me trouve. Com me tu peux le voir au haut de la page, nous sommes dans la bonne ville de Lyon, dans le sud- est de la France. Gette magnifique cite est remar- quable, a mon seos, non par la largeur de ses belles rues, ou Petendue de ses squares, ou, comma on les (') The few following pages are written in French in the original manuscript ; we reproduce them as they are. -1 u i ■ ;l .,fi 1 c 1 r ; i ■ li ^32 — appello ici, de ses Cowrs ; non par sea riches manu- ; factures de soieries, dont la renommee est euro- p6enne ; mais par un titre de gloire bieii plus haut que tous ces avantages materiels, bien plus vrai, bien plus durable que tous ces succes commerciaux. C'est du seiu de Lyou, protege par Notrc-Dame de Fourvieres, que s'est elevee, pour se repaudre en- suite sur tdute la terre, la belle (Buvre dc la Propa- . gation de la Foi ! ........ , ,. •■'■ Et cette CBuvre lui vient non pas de quelques-uns de ces homines, dont les statues ornent les places pu- bliques et dont le marbre et le granit conservent les traits ; mais,comme tu le sais, d'une pauvre petite ser- ■ vante, humble et inconnue. Ah ! chere C, je me ^ snis dit ici avec plus de conviction que jamais : Le monde connait pen ses veritables interets ; il erre au sujet meme de ce qu'il a le plus a coeur ! Qu'a-t-il * fait pour toi ce grand Louis XIV, si ce n'est prepa- rer line revolution qui a failli te broyer sous ses 'coups ! Qu'a fait pour toi ce Napoleon, dont I'ambi- tion enlevait tes enfants pour les faire mitrailler sur le champ de bataille ! Copendant, ce sont la les he- ros que tu houores. Mais la pauvre servante qui attire sur toi taut de benedictions ; mais cette jeune fiUe qui a fait inscrire ton nom dans les annalesde TEglise de Dieu ? ingratitude ! aveugle- , ment ! ,., J'aiparle tout-a-l'lieure de Notre-Dame de Four- vieres, la patronne de Lyon. Tu n'es pas sans avoir entendu parler de cecelebre sanctuaire, de tous les miracles qui s'y sont operes. Eh bien ! Je i'ai vu .. ce lieu beni, je m'y suis agenouille au pied de la statue antique que la piete des fideles a si richement ornee, et j'ai fait bruler un cierge a la chapelle ar- ^ dentc en I'lionneur de I'lmmaculee Conception de iiotre mere a toi et a moi et du nlonde entier. Lyon est bdti sur les deux rives de la Sa6ne et du Rh6ne qui s'umssent ^ I'extreniit^ su4 de If^ i- : I — 38 — our- lavoir IS les li vu ie la Inient lie ar- III de ville ; et la vallec des denxfleiives est juste assez 6tendiie pour qu'on ait pu y asseoir une ville do 120,000 habitants. A chaque cote s'elevcnt des moiitagnes, et celle qui se tiouve a I'ouest prend la forme d'une falaisc tres abrupte et haute d'environ 400 pieds. Or, c'est sur la crete de cette mentagne et tout pres du herd quo s'elevp la petite chapelle de Notre-Dame. Le dome allonge qui couronne r6- glise est surmonte d'une belle statue doree de la Ste. Vierge, haute de 18 piods, et d'un beau travail. L'interieur est litteralcment couvert (Vex voto^ fruit de la reconnaissance pour des faveurs rogues. Tu vois, chore C, que la bonne Marie est aimee ici comme chez nous ; et ici commc chcz nous et ail- leurs ou a raison, car elle est bonne partout. Mais je m'apergois que je m'attarde irop sur ce sujet ; j'oublie que je dois to parler de I'lrlande. J'arrivai a Dublin, du sud de Tlrlande, un mardi soir; et comme je voulais a tout prix rencontrer mes compagnons do voyage en Angleterre, je reso- lus de prendre le bateau pour Liverpool le soir meme. J'appelai done uu jaunting-car^ ce qui n'est ni plus ni nioins qu'une voiture ordinaire tournee a Venvers. En efiet, l'interieur de ce char est a I'exte- rieur, ce qui fait que vous etes assis a angle droit l',i |l' 45 — ^: -he door ; 1 into I ho se, if you gUIT). hurch in with lis, Ity aboui iaterie-s in ed Grand ;eacly left arried on ^•nitv and om top to ) yeomen cons, two 1, finally, ies were into the .esiastical that was inggood, 3marked, le Gloria^ with the e vent to; ►me, fro nil )w in the I word of pms and they had md other 1 as they ,ith, hope were no )ld,.parti- Igi ng the of Holy ^ever did! ).••• ill join in the recitation of the Ci^eclo with more joy nd thanksgiving. ' -- ;' •'•-.''•- ^ .<■ The chnrch is very old. It was begnn by Charlo- agne in the eighth centnry. His tomo is here, and pllso many relics of the great emperor. We saw his skull, enclosed in a golden bust. The treasury js exceedingly rich. I bought a little book describing U it contains; and as I bring it home, I refrain rom giving any account of it here. The choir has een lately restored, and is veiy handsome. The • ' ivindows (there are four, besides the chancel) are sixty ' eet high ; the stained glass is a w^ork of great merit. " ?he two subjects I admired the most were the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin » and the Proclamation of the Dogma of the Immaculate" ' Conception. » The figures are all life-size: the '' )ortrait »f the Pope is perfect. ' .. ;., ••• After dinner we went to visit the city : it is small ' md irregular. The shops were all open, though the liety of the people, their attendance at mass, and leir respectful demeanour, had edified us. The- ■ iopulation amounts to 60,000, almost all Catholics. - ; \part from the churches and the town hall, there ''' are no great objects of interest. So we made but a' iliort stay, and started for Cologne, on the Rhine. ' We arrived in the middle of a shower of rain, and' ' vere conveyed from the raili'oad-station to the' Hotel du Dome,)) about three minutes' w^alk from- Ihe great cathedral, the vast proportions of which ' Jeemed to acquire more than usual grandeur, seen jbrough the mist that surrounded them. I need" lot give you a description of this « w^ork of ages.» •• it is the most perfect specimen of Gothic architecture in the world. It is 511 feet long by 230 wide. The ' ■ lowers on the front are not yet finished ; when . ' they will have been completed, the top of the ''■ idifice will be 500 feet above the level of the squaro. To m« the Gothic stylo has ovor setmed V.' ' »ll -46- l,:i l| i I ■ I ! ' III ^" Mi IV] :■ if'::: ii»i 1 1 J ;»!' I, ^1' ■i i * fil !!! ill':. ((: ^Hiilt ,1 \0:^'^ m best adapted to churches. It sprang from Christian art ; it symbolizes Christian ascetism ; its slight vaults bear aloft the voice of prayer ; its slight airy colonnettes shoot up heavenward, like ejaculatory aspirations of the heart ; it makes of the temple a house of prayer. But there is something specially overawing in viewing this, the triumph of art, filled on a Sunday evening, as twilight descends, by thousands of pious Christians, kneeling in prayer before the Blessed Sacrament. A solemn benedic- tion was being given as we entered : the voices of little children mingled with a powerful but sweet- toned organ, singing the Litanies of the Blessed Virgin. Then the Tantum Ergo was taken up by the whole multitude ; the incense rose in curling wreaths ; the little bell tinkled; and, as I bowed to the ground in unison with all, I thanked God that I again found the same faith and worship as in very- far-off home. There are four naves and a middle aisle in the church. The chapel of the three wise kings of the East is to the right. Tradition says that they lie buried beneath a handsome altar near the choir. Many of the streets of Cologne are so narrow that two persons can hardly pass abreast ; but others are wide and spacious. There is, as in Brussels, a hand- some street vaulted in with glass. We visited a church dedicated to St. Ursula and the 1 1,000 virgins : it is old, but is being repaired. Several churches wera filled with little children attending mass, under the supervision of their masters ; they sang sweet little German hymns with a very pleasing effect. Altogether there is a quaint mediaeval air about the city and its inhabitants^ very much in harmony with their great cathedral. We weie here first introduced to a complication o( coinage, which I defy any traveller to make head 47 — or tail of. Wo had silver grotchen and anothor kind oi grotdien; we \mi\kreutzers and thaiev^^ and florins worth 2s. 1d. and florins worth 2s. 8d., and a host of other little coins, all prononnced 'with the most forcible guttural sounds. Indeed, the only thing you have to do is to give a couple of sovereigns to the person you deal with, and trust to his honesty for the right change. I think that this was one of our chief reasons for beating a hasty retreat from the city^ to which must be added the desire of becoming acquainted with the glorious scenery of the Rhine. I will hot, however, undertake a description of the day's travel along the banks of the beautiful river from Goloi?ne to Mavence ; for I bought you a book with photographic views and a full account of the names of the different fortresses and towns that border it. '• = '•' ■.■•^■■' ..■.*.• We made two "toppages, so as to enjoy the scenery and visit th^ principal towns. At Bingen, where the mountains begin to recede from the river-side, I remembered the lay of the Irish poetess, which I had so much admired last winter in our readings at the Institute. The scenery is enchanting. The river makes a grand curve, forming a sort of basin, closed in, on each side, by a lovely green valley, on which repose gracefully neat little villages. In the distanceare the vine-clad mountains, jtopped with old castle-ruins that date from the [times of Roman power. ' • • The two chief towns are Goblentz and Mayence. ICoblentz is built, like Quebec, at the junction of Hwo rivers. The blue Moselle h^re joins' the green .waters of the Rhine, and yon can distinguish the point ' if union by areddish streak near the month of the tornier. A bridge of boats brings you to the foot of [a frowningi citadel, f . • * •'- • :*.,.■-.. -.i ..• ; , ^ Mayence is one of (he great' fdrtress-tiowns of Prlis-' |8ia. It is a sort of perpetual challenge to Franc© not to 1^ ..i •i, • i( !* I . -48- i»i f . i\ Jll; !|. Lt* I' !':, u; 111 ; 1 ] 1 i ;i 1 1' i CfOsslhe Rhine. The town is swarming with soldiers, great, stout, thick-built men, that look as if they could fight and had fought well. The cathedral is not handsome, though the hotel-keeper assured us that it was one of the finest in Germany. The only thing I found worth remarking was a statue of Guttenberg, the inventor of the art of printing. We were in his native city — at least they told us so. From my hotel-window I had a splendid view of the Rhine. There was a great deal of bustling and commerce going on in the streets and away across the bridge that opens the route from Mayence to Frankfort. The market was full of grapes, so tempting in their luscious ripeness that I bought a whole armful of them from a little German woman in a white cap. I handed over the equivalent of sixpence in silver, and she gave me so much change in small coin that I thought she was paying me for buying them from her. Money is so subdivided here, that the unity might be classed amongst what our professor of mathematics used to call les infinlment petits. The weather was cold and rainy ; so wo sacriQced our desire of seeing the citadel, with its Roman anti^ quities, to that of going further south in search of heat. Accordingly, we set out for Strasbourg, the frontier-town of France in this locality, and arrived there late in the evening, having bidden adieu to Germany audits gutturals. I cannot say much on the country, for we did not stay long enough to form an intelligent opinion of the people. But one thing became evident, from the little intercourse I had with those who spoke French: this was an intense and undisguised hatred for France and the French people. They appear eager for a war, and boast roundly that the event of the struggle would be a complete establishment of the superiority of the Prussian over the French soldier. .,. t'! Vf lier^, they pal is d us only le of We From f the and icross ce to ipting ,vhole in a pence small uying lat the ssorof rificed Li anti^ 'ch of g, the iTived ieu to ich on igh to Lit one arse I r'as an ^4« FRANCE. •I .i We were, of course, in raptures at finding our- selves once more in a country where we could make ourselves understood without having recourse to an interpreter. It is a great hore not to be able to speak the language ot" the people among whom you are travelling: you immediately become, as it were, deaf and dumb ; you cannot glean any infor- mation concerning the country or its inhabitants from your fellow-travellers ; and if you question the agents about the starting of the trains, the names and qualities of the hotels, &c., your only answer is a shrug of the shoulders or a sort of disdainful silence. Strasbourg has a strong French garrison, and has a number of iron foundries. The people are very proud of their splendid cathedral and the great astronomical clock it contains — one of the wonders of the world. I mounted to the very top of the steeple to get a view of the country around about, and was rewarded for my pains by being nearly frozen to death and blinded by a furious snow-storm. I will not de- scribe the clock nor the church, for I bought a little brochure which gives you a full account of both. I did this everywhere I could, dear C, both for your sake and mine ; for it saved me the trouble of writing, and it assures you a more complete de- scription of the places. I may remark, however, that the clock of Strasbourg is a thing whith must be seen to form an idea of its wonderful perfection. Next day we started for Nancy ; and here our caravan divided, two of our fellow-travellers having gone direct to Paris, whilst I and Dr. B. took tickets for Metz, en route for the Duchy of Luxembourg. There are formidable fortifications all round M«tz; A. "■■,f . ttmia r 1 i« JO i;; r ; i.i' i- : I . ■■ ■»•■ ■I!'. ■(111 ■.!:! lil f Wi 1 l|i — 50 — indeed, it is ffilUe a triumph of military goniiis, and it would bo hard to conceive liow tlh^ larg(>st b(3sieg. ing nrmy coiilil penplratti into ttie pl;ice. The popn- lation is about 40.000. Wo sutl'ored much from the cold, for there was ice in our basius in the morning, and my pooi' nose was as blue as a blue-bag when I came down to breakfast. By good (^hauce, tho hotel-keepei' was most [iolite : he introduced us to his family, and made us as comfortable as could be expected. He ti'eated us to five or six sorts of wine, among which was a glass of the veritable Chdrtreuse. We saw th'^ town fi'om end to end ; but, apart from the fortifications, the esplauadi'S, and some iron foundries, there is nolhiug reniai'kable. We then started for Luxembourg, passing through t^e Ardennes, and catching, now and then, a sight Oi the Mouse as it meanders through the vaileys. We passed the plains of Fontenoy, so famous by the brilliant victory gained by the Ii'ish brigade, in the service of Louis XV., over the allied troops of Ger- many'^and England. At two o'clock we entered the Duchy of Luxembourg, now under tbe protectorate of the King of Hanover. The fortress, once impreg- nable, has fallen before the exigencies of the .. jealous politicians of li]urope : it is now almost com- pletelydismantled. But Luxemboi'"^ belongs neither to France nor to Prussia. It is a" ture free State, and its miniature sovereign i'^ . ud of his position as was imperial Caesar in ti. gone by. The mini- ature army, composed of 250 men, have as proud a step and as fierce moustaches as the Roman legions in the days of Augustus ; and the miniature parlia- ment discusses the interests of state with as much vehemence and acrimony as if the fate of Europe depended on their vote. The local papers were most amusing, from the fierce invectives they indulged in : one mildly styled the other a traitor to his coun- try ; the ottrjr retorted by reminding his adversary TT-' --.51 — that he was the corrupted slave of power. When we left, the quarrel was undecided ; but we, neverthe- less, took tickets for Metz, where we passed another night with our kind host and his family. •. From Metz wo went to Rheims, and put up at the hotel in which the father and mother of Jeanne d'Arc T-^jided during the coronation of King Charles. Rheims is the head-quarters of Champagne, and, in honour of the event, we presented ourselves with a bottle of real Champagne^ — no New-York adultera- tion, but the real Simon-pur. It is delicious, and only costs five francs a bottle. The cathedral of Rheims isone of the most splendid Gothic buildinr^s ofFrance. Many kings have been crowned at the high-altar; the last was Charles X. ; the first, as you remember, was Clovis, who was baptised by St. Remi. I saw the tomb and relics of the good saint. There are also in the treasury of the church many precious souvenirs of olden limes. The Archbishop's palace, with its suite of royal apartments, is decidedly grand. The public squares and promenades of the city are large and well kept The population amounts to more than 200,000. At last we were on the direct line of the great^ capital of the world, as the Parisians call their city. Paris, with its wonders, was within a half-day's journey ; and it was not without some degree of emotion that we stepped from the coupe :is the train stopped underneath the beautiful station of the western district of the imperial city. We drove to the hotel of «Bon Lafontaine,)) and there found our two companions, who had arrived the previous day. Our first visit, next morning, was to the church of ((Notre-Dame-des-Victoires,)) where we said Mass, in thanksgiving for this pait of our journey, so happily accomplished. (1) • . i. >!«.-.; {}) There is nothing more in Mr. Doherty's manuscript cod» -1 fe: <►,.■'- I 'f- • t. i'lii 1 1 ' ">'■ i i r r I !iU liK I'll ■I , I ■ i(t(i!;i ¥\)^ Ml i ■t .; ^•| 1 . ^i ' i My dear friend, — 52 — Rome, 24th November^ 1869. We arrived in Rome last night, eight of us — five priests, two doctors, and a bishop. We had been together all through Upper Italy and the South of France. I had a moonlight trip on a gondola in the salt- water streets of Venice. It is something that cannot be described. For my part, I do not thirk anything can be more beautiful. ^ We came here fiom the far-famed shrine of Loreto. I said Mass there in honor of the Blessed Virgin. I stood in the very room where ((The Angel of the Lord declared unto Mary,)) - where the little Jesus lived and grew up in grace and virtue — where He obeyed Mary and Joseph. Oh ! the thrill that those old blackened walls send through you, as yon stand in their midst! They are covei-ed outside with the richest marbles, and gold and silver lamps and ornaments are in abundance. The plains of Gastelfidardo are quite close — say a couple of miles distant. ^^ e visited them, walked over them, saw the trees wilh the marks of the bullets, prayed over the tombs of the fallen braves; and then we left for Ancona, where Lamoiiciere made his last stand. Bnt whatcau«ed me the greatest plaesure was the sight of the ((Rock of Spoleto,)) where Major O'Reilly cerning Paris and the other parts of France which he visited. Want of time and fafgue from rapid travelling prevented him then from noting down his impressions of the French people and their country. He travelled also throughout Northern Italy, and arrived in Rome oti the 23rd Novend-er, whence he wrote to a friend the annexed letter. On tht 80th of the same niOQt^ he went to Naples, where lie spent a few days before the opening of the Conned. From Naples he addressed to the friend just mentioned a very yntij letter, which w« are glad to be able to reproduce. •t s I, ;!.l, ^53 — sited. him >e(>ple thern ce he same •e the rieiid ftble and his Irish brigade stopped the whole Sardinian army, and surrendered oaly when resistance was useless. Tiie citadel they defended is there still. I pictured to myself — as I stood close by the scene — ten yeai's ai^o 1 fancied I heard the rattle of m.us- ketry, the booming of (-annon. and the tramp of soldiery. I then listened, and heard, above the hoarse voice of war, ringing fiom out the blaze of battle, that wild clear Irish cheer, that basso often resound- ed on the battle-plains of Europe and America. All is silent now and peaijeful. But the living wrong remains, and will remain as long as the fair fields and fertile hills of this lovely country are in the hands of the robber-king. ,; >; Naples, 30//i November^ 1869. My dear friend, I am in a sort of doUlrum. I arrived at Naples this evening,— and what do you ihink ? You might be hanged for guessing, and m^ver make it out. The wholetown w.is illuminated !- Chinese and Venetian huui)-!)urners at eveuy corner, — music playing, — crowded thoroughfai'ds, — in a woi'd, the greatest sight you ever saw, even in Connauirht. You know how naturally tiniid and relii'ing I am in my dis- position ; you may, therefore, fancy how confused I felt at so flattering a reception. Of course they told me at the hotel that the rejoicings were for the birth of the young prince of Naples. But I know better, fhe Piedmoutese government probably got news of my coming, and hence all the hubbub. It is very annoying, I assure you; still, one must put up with it. If the government will be foolish, and if the people will burn gas and olive-oil, how can I help it ? The only thing that surprises me is, how did they get wind of my coming ? I suppose it is a trick of yours, or some of St. C.'s doings. I wish to goodness you could keep your tongues to yourselves; ¥ ■1'/ K^ '>; --54 >ii I Mr 1 l^ii ; • 1 1 ; i '•tt • you would save me a deal of unnecessary Mushing, '.aiid the government a great deal of lamp-oil. •"•But, rationally speaking, I have just witnessed a most splendid illumination. You can have no idea of what taste those Italians can display. A splendid 'Street, about as wide as Crown-street, in St. Roch's, with six-story houses on each side, two miles long (not the houses, but the street), and as straight as the ; last broom-handle that your wife broke on your back (I hope), was brilliantly li' up from end to end. Gas-burners, shaped into all kiiids of forms ; lamps •of every color, simulating roses, lilies, snow-balls, etc., etc., et«., festooning the houses ; thousands of ill and well-dressed people in the highest glee, — and all this on a dark night, contrasting with the dark pall overhead ; the glorious bay of Naples, in the fore-ground, dotted with the glimmering lights hung from the masts ; and, towering above all, the great volcano, with its lurid volume of fire jutting straight up, like the warning-voice of Death, mingling with the shouts of pleasure — or, if you wish, like an expiring candle in a black-tin candlestick ; — this is what I have just seen. To-morrow myself and two French priests proceed to visit the ruins of Pompeii and ascend the burning crater of the volcano. We left Rome this morning. I have not yet obtained an audience. I expect to see His Holiness with our dear archbishop, whom may God bless and preserve. I saw Pius the IXth on Sunday, in St. Peter's. It was like a glimpse of heaven. He was carrying the Blessed Sacrament. Oh ! such a crush of people ! I thought, at one time, that I was going to be turned into a six-inch-thick plant. As for my hat well I will not say it was made as flat as a pancake, for I often ate pancakes a good deal thicker. However, it may be a consolation for you to know that I was instrumental in flattening a --55 -nrv^l few of my neighbours'. One fat old monk will bear my impr(3ss, I think, to the dav of his doalli. I was actually ground into him. AnJ suchgroaiis! — good gracious! I visited the Catacombs the day Ijoforo vesterdav. It is a solemn sight, and a fit pendant to the visit paid to the Coliseum. The ruins of the Coliseum recall the heroic stru'-igles of the Maitvi's of Christ; its sands were reddeiu'd by llieir glorious bh^od ; but, when the wild beasts liad torn them, in their rage, amid the infuriated shouts of 100,000 specta- tors, ttie huge mob retired, satiated with blood, and then the mangled remains were stealthily gathered by some pious friends, and borne away to this silent abode. Here, in the under ground chapels, the funeral-rites were perfonied, and they Avere laid in the crypts that border the alley. Oh ! how glad, how p.'oud I was to bo able to gaz6 on the unmistakeable proof of the love and reverence those first Christians had for our Blessed TvJother ! I prayed before her sweet image, in tlie Catacombs underneath St. Clement's church, and kissed it with something like awe ; for it is a witness to the fact that the devotion to Mary is now only vvdiat it was 1.600 vears ago. Rome, 1th December, 18G9. My dear St. C, To-morrow is the day of days. Before the sun sinks again to rest, the Great Council will luive opened, and Pius IX. will have achieved, in face of the most desperate opposition, the greatest triunjph of his glorious reign ! TherR are upv/ards of seven hundred Bishops, Archbishops, and Patriarchs, in the Eternal CUy at present ; and no end of Priests, Monks, and strangers. I have just returned from seeing the preparatory illumination in the city ; and, as I may not have much time at my disposal f^4 %■,: mM L'^ I ■ ! i ■' ' \ . .1 ■ ■' ' ;»♦ Hi — 56 — to-moiTOw, I will begin my letter to-night, that it may be ready for this week's post. I wont to the Vatican this evening, and had the happiness ot* ^^etliivj a good view of the Holy Father. There were about 7000 persons in tlie inner court of the I'alace as he left for his evening drive, on his way to the church of the Holy ApostU^s ; and you may be sure that we cheered him lustily. In fact, I was quite uproarious on the head of it ; but no one took any notice of mo, for wherever he appearii there is the wildest enthusiasm. I did not go as far as the church ; but those who assisLcd at the benediction sav that thev never witnessed such an ovation. About 20,000 men, W'osncii, and chilili'eu awaited his arrival in and arouii«l the chundi, and (dieered him repeatedly. The dear, lovinir, i^ood old man ! If vou onlv could seo ]ii:n, no!: as his portraits paint him, — for they do not ro!ider hini justice, — but a,<> he is ! Such sweet;jes3 ! -such serene m;ijesty ! And, oh ! to see how l')vingly he ble»ses the kneeling multitudes, as he passes by ! Afier the crowd had departed I wandered into St. IV^tiM^'i, to see ihe great Council-Head. It occupies one of Ih? lateral chapels of the church, on the light side, diniclly oppOiiite the tomb of the Apostles fiS. Peter aiid Paul. There are eight or nine tiers of seats on eucli side, covenMl with green cloth inli'rwoven willi liandsome flowers in gold. At the upper end is the throne of the Pontiff, — a massive raised £eat of pnrple and gold. In the middle of the room, on the iloor of tlif^- chapels, are seats for short - li.iud writers. Three beautiful paintings represent thr«e great ceuncils : one above the throne — the council of Jerusalem ; the other on the I'ight side — the council of Ephesns ; the third, opposite — the council of Trent. The whole offers J 57 itU lever men, I and tedly. could V thoy Sucii to see les, as !d into a magnificent coup-d'oeil^ and is worthy, to some extent, of the great assembly. I must not forget the galleries, above, for diplomaiisls, ambassadors, and royal personages. The walls are richly inlaid with the purest of Italian marble. As it was getting late, I started for home, crossins: down the great piazza^ with its fountains and obelisk, and through the street that leads to the bridge of St. Angelo. The Papal colours are flying from the battlements. There are crowds on either side of the bridge ; a soldier tells me that the people are waiting for the return of the Pope, so I decided to wait there, too. I accordingly sat down on a stone-bench, var an angle of the bridge ; and there, unnoticed and uncared for, I began taking notes of the busy and varied ^cene that swept by like some boauiifnl panorama. I was in the Eternal City, on the very bridge where thousands — nay, millions — of pilgrims had come before me to worship at the tomb of the Apostles ! Here was the city older than Christianity., mighty before the cross was raised for salval ion ; the city whence the legions of Rome went forih to conquer the world — where the consuls, the dictalois and pagan emperors made laws for the universe 1 Rome, where the barbarians smoto the colo^ses. of earthly power, and did the work of Providence, withonteven thinking that they were itsinslrnments I But all these had passed away ; and if the greatness of Rome had been based on the might of one or the otiier, it would long since have sinik into ©blivion, like so many other empire-cities. Yet, Rome is not a desert ; Rome is peopled with the nations of the world ; Rome is still mighty. And why ? Bimmuso the hand of God upheld it; biM^iinsn llis vicar la here ; because it is sanctified by the pre.-k'use of him with whom Christ promised to remain for ever. All tiiese thoughts, and many others, passed •■',.•'. "i^'^ ■/' •■'%' [I:- t (I *; r. r I: 3! ;■ • 'il»i .'If — 58 — through my mind as I sat all alone in the growing Uviliglit, looking at the thousands that passed and repassed unceasingly! And, oh! such a varied spectacle I — cavdnials' carriages with their richly- caparisoiied horses ; dragoons with their brass- helmets and chinking swords ; Spanish priests with their great tnrned-np hats, like canoes; French priests with their litiki capes and rabats ; Eastern priests ^rora Turkey, Greece, and China, with flowng beards and Tnrkish bonnets ; theological students, some in white, others in red, others in blue, others in black soutanes ; smart little zouaves with a sort of half-run; Roman peasanls with high-crowned hats andinmiense cloaks, looking, for all the world, like brigands. Here come a garde noble^ with a gold- embroidered uniform ; and now a long-eared donkey tied to a small cart, carrying — I do not know how — nine persons. Next is an Armenian abbot with a very tall cap and turned-up toes to his boots ; and then two x)Oor musicians, called Pifferori^ the sound of whose brig-pipes and clarionet is the nearest thing in the world to a cross beUveen a pig's squeal and a turkey's gobble. The people are talking French, English, Italian, Spanish, German, Portuguese, Greek and Arab (oh ! how filthy these Arabs are !) ; in a word, every known tongue in the universe. And I am witnessing all this, listening to all this, enjoying it all, seated on the brink of old Father Tiber ! The evening is delightfully refreshing ; the weather is beautiful, like an evening toward the end of August or the beginning of September in Canada. The grass is quite green on the borders of the river and on the castle-moat. Flowers are growing in bloom in the little garden-plots here and there. All the windows are open. Every one is dressed in summer-attire. Oranges and lemons are ripening on the branches, whilst you are -^59 — digging one another out of the snows np yonder towards the far-uorlh-west. But I can not sit here all ni^ht. I jun gotling hungry, and llie shades are ihlokcning; so,witliout waiting for tlie return of the Pope, i am oli, down the street called Monsrratto^ to my boarding-hov.se, right 0[)posite the ])alafM^ of I he king of iNaples, and ill view of tlu) chapel where St. Jerome and St. Philip Neri passed part of their •lives, ue.xl door to where St. Bridget lived in an ecstasy, and williin two minutes' walk of the Campo di fiovl, wiierc Ciesar fell assassinated on the Ides of March. The Romans have been invited by the aulhorilies to illuminate their houses for to-morrov/ evening ; bnt they will not wait for to-morrow. The city is just beginning to be illuminated, willi Ihat taste so pi'overliial with the Italians ; and, as I enter my room, I hear the cannon of the Castle booming in the distance, to announce the fii\st Vespi^rs of the holy feast of the Immaculate Conception : Good night ! 9//t December. — I had a presentiment of future delay when I began my letter, and I was right, for it is now Thursday evening ; the great feast is over, and, between one thing and anolher, I have not been able to continue my letter since. I left you on Tuesday night, when all was expectancy for the morrow. As usual, the great question was: Will it be fine? Unfortunately, it was not fine. The day broke amid a storm of pelting rain, and such rain as is only known in Italy. You ihave nothing like it in Canada. It heats down your umbrella ; it gets in through the seams of your coat, and then right through your pores, and into your very bones. The chief want you feel, after having been out in a storm here, is to be \Tcli rung put, shook, and hung up on a clothes-line to dry, and then be ironed to take out the " crew«s. " '. ' V 1 / - ' 4M ;'^^''<' '^qL, 1: i|i III. ) I !;{''■"" i I ^'' 1 ' *t ' H' 1 ll ll ■' i ,1* . ' ■ ' ; '■ i •1 t ■ li't: -66-- . • - ' Therefore, as I was saying, when I awoke in the - morning, tlie rain was ])attering away at the > wiiidow-panes, as if impatient io duck me; tlie sky was of a heavy leaden hue, and the spouts were ahiiosL clinking. I got a first wetting on going out to say mass ; and hefore I got time to dry, I had to start again for St. Peter's, as the ceremony was announct'd for S^ a.m. ^ A zouave, who was on patrol that night, told me, since, that tliero Vv"ore pe()[)lo on the church-steps from 12 o'clock p.m. The carriages Logan lo arrive at 4 o'clock in the mornuig. When I left my boarding- ouse, I he crov/ds that wore wending their way to tlie church wore something like the general judgment, both for numbers and variety. All you {! co'did .-^oe, as you approached, was an immense sea of umbrelias of ev{My hue, from the elegant brown i; silk to the light blue coUon. I arrived at 8 o'clock. The zouaves, v/ith their guns and bayonets, formed - a double. linft for the procession to pass through, in the middle of the church, leaving an open space of about lv/oi)tv foet or more. The rest v»as the Qispuied right of every individual, as he or she might happen lo conquer it. On eiatering, I gave up all hopes of being able to see anything; for the ranks were six or eight deep behind the soldiers, and as closely packed as any jury that ever sat at the Irish assizes. Suddenly, there Avas a commotion behind me, as I stood on my lip-toes, and I heard an authoritaiive voice ordering place to be made for a bishop who had arrived late, like myself, but who had a better light than I had to pierce the crowd and get to his [)laco. Now, thought I to myself, here is a chance quite providential for you, Patrick, agrali ! The crowd swayed a little for the bishop (a line fat man — God bless liLin !) — and before his secretary could follow, I had my elbow, planted into the poor man's ribs, 61 the the the ^^ere out had was me, steps ve at duig- ay to neral I you ?e sea ivowu clock. )rmed gh, in ace of IS the 31' she ve up or the diers, sat at notion heard ide for it who crowd e quite crowd 1— God follow, I's ribs, and wts making my way between the botVi. As he was very fat, l had little trouble in following him ; and the people, taken by surprise, or thinking I was a grand-vicar, let me pass up to the third rank. But here they perceived the trick, and mayhe I had not to pay fur it ! There was a general cry of indignation around me, and especially behind me ; in fact, they were so riled that the poor secretary lost his passage^ and was thrust back. If it would have ])een possible to get me out, I would not have been long thei'e either. But I was so completely jammed up that they had to leave me where I was. One little Italian, with bushy whiskers, gave me a prod with his elbow in the breast that left his mark; but I returned it with such vehemence, on the side of his head, that he will have a headache for all next week. Do not be scandalized at this. It was every one for himself on that day. We all spoke so londly and so angrily, that the soldiers ordered silence. And so, there I was in the third rank, while others who had been in the church since six o'clock were far behind me. But I was destined to still further happiness. The crowd pushed so much that the front line broke the picket, upon which the said unfortunate front rank was ordered behind by an open passage, and we came up directly behind the. zouaves; and this is how I came to have a splendid view of the entire procession. It is cal- culated that there were not less ihan 80,000 persons in church, and some say that there were 100,000. I cannot say who is right, but I know that all the place was as full as it could be. The procession was announced for 8J a.m., but we had to wait for full three-quarters of an hour before there were any signs of its approaching. There were a few false alarms, and every one used to stretch his neck and say : " Here they come ! " Then, after a few moments, it would be found out that it was only WfW — rs] — 62 — III I ;,; some ofTicinl runnini? along- Hip open space, on some eri'anu or olluir. At last Iho canons of St. Peter's, in slioi't while snr[»lices, the Ihni'ifiM's and cross- b.^arers, moved np, and pbic(;d themselves with tho choir-hovs, in a line alont; the sides. A short lime after, the Empress of Anstria passed down, svith a brilliant snit(» ; then tin; dnkes, dnjhi^sses, j^mierals, and a nnniher of dislin,L;iiishi.Ml persons. — so we knew that the time was coming foi* the sight. At last the grf?at doors of the chnrcli w't;re thrown open, and we heard the singers of the Sixtine Cha- pel chanting the Vcni Crcofor. All was con:imotion. There w^as a rnsh to the front ; bnt the little zon- aves held llie line bravely, and kei)t the people back. Soon the great golden cross was seen in the door- way, over the beads of all ; the voices of the singers became more distinct, and the bishops began to pass before mv eyes. All was a dead silence then : every one was intent on seeing as much as he conld. Bnt, oh! snch a bi'illiant spe('tacle ! No pagan em- peror, in tlie height of bis power, ever dreamt of anything half so brilliant «^iah, rt to prepare the world for his coming; and, oh! ((fulhl that mission faillifuliy, for your reward will (( be the measure of vourfidelitv. FuUil llnit mission (( in accordan(,'e with the Scripture — opereat sennone ; (( by voice and example. Exam[)le is a great thing in <( the world. If th(? priest is good and holy, tbe peo- ((ple will be good and holy. Keep, tln*n,your hearts « pui'e ; burn with love for God, and be active in His ((service. Do not negle(;t to pniach the word of (iod ; ((nourish the souls of the faithful with pions and ((solid instructions.)) Such is the analysis of the discourse which our Holy Father gave us. But I have deprived it of all the brilliant ornaments, both of word and gesture, which made it one of the most forcible and really touching sermons I ever lieard. Yon should have seen that good father in the midst of his children, ^: f • 1 i ■ * >< 1* •1 * i^' r. .■■■;". I' « V I * : I I .1 1*1 •,-!t' .1 !K[ ■'t :!*; ,Ivl. ;i ! ' i i I .11,1, -•66 — like Jesus amongsthis apostles, exhorting them to the service of God,wiiiiiing Iheir hearts l)y the eloquence of his gifted tongue. He said a good many witty things during the course of his speech, thus sweetly mingling the light and solid, and rendering the effect more rill rable. But when, towards the close of his speech, he hade us adieu, and requested us all to live and work in such a manner that we might all meet in Heaven, he hecame pathetic and sub- lime. He wept with tenderness; and I remarked that whenever he pronounced the holy name of God, he did so witii profound recollection. We all wept with him, and knelt to receive his benediction. There were there manv men who never met in the same room before, and who may never meet again ; but we were all one familv of brothers there ; we all had one thought — a profound sentiment of re- verence anil '1: 1 . ■ ■ 1 ** ' -I'll 1 i 11 l>; f V i — Toy- man with one idea in his head, and fully bent on its accomplishment. •->•.. '.n,; We pass many stations with strong Italian names and very poor accommodations for travellers. Hap- pily we have provided for our wants at Gaserta, and we take a ten-o'clock lunch or second breakfast at Solopaga, on cold meat, good bread, cheese, figs, oranges, and capital wine. The peasants all wear large, ample cloaks, high poinled Iiats, and blue breeches and leggings. It is the exact reality of the pictured brigands with whom you may be familiar, — only not so clean. The hair is «in flowing curls, » but quite uncombed; the cloak is loosely thrown over the shoulder, and hangs in artistic drapery down the back; but — Lord! — "it's all full of patches, and where there's no patch there's a gaping hole;)) the breeches (excuse me) are of celestial blue, or once were ; but as they grew old, they, too, had to be patched, and the new clap- boarding has so many different colours that it is hard to make out what really was the « primitive dye. » However, you must not think that they cut a ridiculous figure ; no ; but there is a sort of native majesty, or, rather, innate grace, in those follows, that makes them really handsome and picturesque in the midst of their rags. I saw a fellow, at the station of San Felice, whose habiliments seemed almost antediluvian : it seemed as if the slightest wind would shake them to pieces ; yet, he moved with the step n^" an emperor, and his tournure, in its tout ensemble^ ^\ould have graced the veriest dandy of the Hois de Boulogne. Blumhart would have taken him for a model. At 1 1 o'clock A.M. we reached a miserable little village called San Spirito. Owing to the inundations of last year, the road is completely disconnected between this place and Starza; so we are obliged to leave the train and continue our journey in large i 1 1 Vi I ^' 1 de I ^I I ^\' I Ja: 1 W( I to 1 ^^' 1 m ",:.'>\^' — 71 — omnibuses, drawn by four, six, and sometimes eight horses, according to their Inillv. There we were, then, on the grounds of regular Italian adventure ; in the midst of mountains as high and as bald as those I had seen in Tif)perary; in tlie midst of ihe Apennines, surrounded by men weai'i ng the cos- tumes of brigands, fierce, lawless- looking clowns, anfl in the classic ((diligence)) I — an exact copy — or, rather, original — of the pictures 1 had so often st^eii in connexion with stories of Italian brigands. Bnt, alas! railroiids and gendarmes Lave spoiled the rornruice of travelling ! Our baggage was tal en from us and placed on the top of the vehicle ; but 1 b(dd on like grim- death to a black portmanteau which conlained the eat;ibles. My three companions were placed in one omnibus, and, before I could ascend, a fonrlh per- son got up with them ; so I w^as obliged to look out for another seat somewhere else. This raised a laugh against me, on the part of the venerable con- freres : but I paid them back for it shortly [ifter, for, at every turn of the road where I conld catch siglit of them from tbe window of my carriage, I used to flourish the bottle of w^ine and a huge sandwich, while ihey could feed on nothing but expectation and scenery. Revenge is sweet, especially when ac- companied by ham and washed down by vino di velhlri. The country, through which we ploughed our way in the mud for three hours, is a compound o^ deep grassy ravines and high mountains, and is torn up here and there by torrents. The people are working at the railroad, repairing the disasters of last year's inundations. The workers are, here as well as elsewhere, women and asses ; the men are to be met lounging lazily round the Irattorie^ or little inns, discussing politics and sour wine. The women, Ihough busy at work, have not been entirely •.•■ . ^ > •i >.;■■;■;.■■•■,» •'•'/• I > •t i J-:'!! .■'!!■; 1 '' -- i , • ., r. ■ ^v- -1: 1 1 ■'. ■! 1 ^ -li 1 '■ ' ■ 1 1 . ■ .; 1 f ! f fffi J^'ti'l t : ' -^72 — forgetful of that great object in woman's life, the toilet ! Their dresses are neatly got up, and re- joice in the most trenching and brilliant variations. ((Roaring red and bright yellow » are the staple colours. They are generally covered from top to toe by a man lie of the fiercest scarlet, and the groups that we desery sitting on the grass, on yonder hil- lock, look like a bnnch of bright poppies flonrishing in the sunshine. They all have brass ear-rings about three inches long, which scarcely form any contrast with their bronzed necks. All seem joyously happy. We passed a troop of lancers on patrol in the moun- tains. Their nodding plumes and flashing lances gave them a picturesqne look as they stood outagainst the clear horizon directly over our heads. Atl^ P.M., onr carriage drew up at Storza, and we again took the railroad. We now begin to descend an inclined plane, and are evidently getting out of the chain of the Apennines. Finally, at Bovino, the mountains disappear, and we are issued into a vast level country, very well cultivated ; and soon after we descry, slightly to the east, the outskirts of Foggia, a town of 40,000 inhabitants, where we shall change cars and have an hour's wait. We shall, therefore, be able to get a good dinner and have a look at the ])lace. > . . . 4.^ P.M. — We are now starting for Bari, where we sleep to-night. After a great deal of research^ we found a respectable hotel in one af the principal streets of Foggia, and took dinner. The beefsteak was as tough as tanned leather ; the soup aid vermi- eelle and wine were, however, tolerable, and the charge moderate. We rambled through the town for half an hour or so. It is well built, regular and clean. There is a very handsome public promenade at one end of it. A double row of twelve Corinthian pillars stand at the entrance. The walk is about a mile long, and is terminated by a very pretty littU — ^3-r r,:\ Grecian temple, something like the temple of Vesta in Rome. We met an Italian monk, who, on learning that we were priests, treated us wim great kindness, and invited us to the monastery. We could not accept his invitation. He told us that the people were, in general, good and religious. The monks receive a salary from the government, in compensation for the properties that have been taken from them. •• ^ ' ••"■;-. -■. Our route to Bari lay through vast plains, on which fed, peacefully, countless flocks of sheep. Shortly after our departure, two Elalian lawyers came into ihe coupe. They got into an argument, the one with the other, and we were treated to a regular scene trom the « Plaidenrs de Racine.n They argued, demonstrated, screamed, thundered, and gisti .'Liliitel lor three long houis, ai:d w th >urh a;i[.i;iviu vehemence and animosity ihai I thought a duel would surely be the result. I, however, saw them shake hands warmly as they parted at the station. Bari is a very handsome town. Our « patron d'hotel)) boasts that it is the second town in Italy for size, importance, and beauty. It has 50,000 inha- bitants. We could not judge well whether his praises were merited or not, for we only sawitduringa moonlight-walk in search of a cup of tea. I may add that my journey was bootless: in none of the hotels or cafes did they appear to have the slightest knowledge of the plant; and here I began to be con- vinced that I must give up, for a time, my favorite indulgence. I had to do so; for, with the exception of a <(cup of hyson » at Mrs. Swan's house, in Corfu, I was destined to see tea no' more till I returned to Home. Here, as at Caserta, we were surprised to find the streets almost entirely deserted at 9 o'clock in the evening; and so much the more so, as in other towns of Italy (if I may be allowed to use an Irish ) »> ■I .. ^fc* .';".■■■■•*. ''- ' ' ''■?< t'. •■•■"-4 , ':> > : ' '. t' ■f ,.r, ■■''V •s^*:-. '11 ll 1 i i : i .' v * 1. 1 .1: • ';' i ■ ■■!: III. I 'Ilk ■■'I; '!■'! if|. r. ■;t' I! biili) nigtit was generally the noisiest part of the day. So much the better, perhaps. l?th December. — We Were up this morning at a quarter to live, and at twenty minutes to six we started for Brindisi. We had the whole coupe to ourselves; so, as we wore all disposed to sleep, we coiled ourselves up, each one in his own corner, and were soon in the land of dreams. We thus jolted through a troubled slumber until we woke to see the first glimpse of the Adriatic sea, as it glanced in the rising sun, like a sheet of gold, away east- ward. We shook off our drowsiness ; and after admiring for a time the immense groves of olive- trees as they rushed past us on their twisted trunks, the extensive brick-fields, the numerous flocks, &c., we all read our office, as a preparation for breakfast atBrindisi. At 9 o'clock exactly the train stopped, and the guard cried out : " Brindisi! " We immediately came out, and found ourselves in a handsome station, apparently in the midst of the country. On inquiring where we were, we were told that the town lay about a quarter of an hour's drive from the station. Thereupon we hired a rickety old carriage — the only one on command, — and, packing ourselves into it as well as possible, hurried off at a lame trot towards « L'hotel du Grand Oriental. » The hills and mounds that hide the view of the city have an ancient look; the farms and cottages seem covered with the dust of ages ; and, as if to keep up the illusion, our old vetturino drove a Jiorse whose great age, however worthy of respect in itself, was a great obstacle to our rapid progress. I thought he would fall to pieces every time he made a feeble attempt to kick, when the whip fell on his ancient ribs. Brindisi is older than Christianity. Eorace speaks of it in one of his odes. Its streets are narrow and winding, roughly paved, and bordered by one-^torj — 75 — stone houses with flat roofs. Our hotel is at the lower end of the town, facing the port. We found better fare here than anywhere else since we left Rome ; but if the steaks and butter were fresh, the bill was extremely salty, I assure you. •?•:»:• We had been told that a vessel would start from Brindisi, direct for Alexandria, on Friday ; but we now find that it is not the case. The Austrian ves- sel from Trieste, which goes to the above-mentioned place, will come into this port on Sunday, and- leave on Monday evening, touching at Corfu. There is, however, at the wharf, an Italian steamer, which leaves for Corfu this evening ; we decide that, since we must wait somewhere until Monday, it is belter to remain at Corfu than in this dull little place. So, notwithstanding the efforts of the hotel-keeper to determine our slay, we take our cabins on board the America; and after a rapid run through the town, we came on board, and at 2 o'clock p.m. sailed out of port into the calm blue waters of the Medi- terranean. The weather is delightful, though, per- haps, a little too warm ; the seals as smooth as a mirror; we enjoy a fine view of the coast of Italy as we run outside the mole that protects the harbour, and now we may consider our voyage as begun in reality. :, i .-., ' .: :;,.. , 4^ p.Nf. — I am now sitting all alone at the extreme front of the vessel ; my companions are below finish- ing the oftice of to-morrow. Signor Ritano Florio is pacing the quarter-deck, humming an Italian song ; three Austrian sailors are conversing, in a guttural language, near the stairs that lead to the lower deck. We are now out in the open sea : there is no land in sight except a long narrow blue line due wt^st ; it is all that remains of Italy. When shall I see it again ? Above the line of land, the horizon is painted with gold, purple, blue and red — a glorious shroud that the sun has left behind him. .1 If!- '^'::.^ ^K.:.. "II -:-^;^ :*'''>>>' \ii •' I'' ' vt if '«' I. ■t.ti •t: !• .I- ' W' illig — 76 — To the south, a full round moon, as mild-looking and complacent as a German matron, rides in the yet unstarred heavens. The sea is still very calm. I hope I may avoid sea-sickness. They tell us that we shall reach Corfu by three o'clock to-morrow morning. lOJp.M. — lam now just on the point of turning in for the night. We had a glorious evening on deck — a pleasant chat, a round of songs, and the Ave Maris Stella^ with night-prayers, all together der the steady gaze of a most brilliant moon. .^ ship goes on splendidly. The weather is very warm, as the month of June in Canada, fi ' : Corfu, Saturday^ \Sth December, — We reached Corfu this morning early, but remained on board until 7^ A. M. From the deck of the ship the island seems to be almost a barren rock. The town risei in amphitheatre from the water's edge, and is crowned by a frowning fortress called Castel Nuovo. A peal of bells sends forth joyous sounds on the air : it appears that this is a great festival — St. Spi- ridion's day. A small boat is waiting for us, to con- Tey us from the ship to the wharf. The quai is crowded with men, most of them porteurs, who make desperate efforts at seizing our baggage to carry it to the hotel. Most of them wear the Turk- ish costume — red shoes, pointed and turned up at the toe, white stockings (or, in some cases, none at all), large blue petticoat-trowsers, and a tight-fitting jacket, the whole surmounted by a small red cap with a black or blue tassel. They have mostly black flashing eyes and fierce moustaches, and are as brown as berries. We manage to shake them off, and, confiding our « goods and chattels* to a hotel- boy who is in waiting, proceed along the filthy, uneven, up-hill streets, to « I'hotel de TAngleterreji Corfu is one of the Ionian islands, formerly under the protectorate of England, but now incorporated . — 77 M « 1, ll into the Greek empire of king George, whose ca- pital is Athens. The island is of an irregular oblong form, its greatest length being about 26 miles. The town of Corfu is situated at the western extremity, and has a population of 25,000 souls — Greeks, Turks, Italians, Albanians, and a few English merchants. The Greeks wear the national costume, somewhat similar to that of the Turks; the Albanians also wear a peculiar dress, which makes them look like a cross between a Scotch Highlander and a hallet- girl. The cap is high and pointed ; the jacket is close-fitting ; then comes a white petticoat, very full and nicely plaited, which reaches almost to the knee ; the legs are encased in extremely tight skin- fitting pantaloons, finished off by a neat congress boot. Corfu is the residence of the Catholic metropolitan of the islands. He has the title of archbishop. The city contains about 6,000 Catholiiis, whose wants are administered to by two priests. The Julian calendar, by express permission of Rome, is followed here ; the Catholics are, therefore, 12 days in arrears of the rest of the church with regard to the cele- bration of the festivals : thus, Monday will be the 8th of December and the feast of the Immaculate Conception, while on our calendar it is the 20th. The Greek schismatic priests number between 300 and 400 on the whole island. Most of them have a wife and family — (Lord help them !) As a general thing, they are poor and ignorant. I may as well remind you, here, that the Greek church proper is quite dilTerent from the Russo-Greek church, which is under the guidance of the Czar. The former is ruled by a council of 12 Patriarchs, who meet at Athens. The priests and bishops are, in a great measure, paid by the government. » '? Those schismatics do not, of course, believe in the universal supremacy of the Pope. Tht/ look on him A. ,' » '■ ,vr - > . i ■ i; i I t i V ■ Il 1 > 1^ 1 V 1 I 9 • t-r ^.^.1- H'J '!!■« ill ,; .r-34- ' ' ■( Turks, and wore only subdiiod aflor a protrnotod resistan(!e. If f do not ^MMially niisUik(^ St. Paul passed soino iiiiK* hero. TIk; wcJllier is extremfdy sultry. W(» ar(i now sli.ipin.u; our conrso almost directly sonlluviird, and shall probihly lose si^nilof land hvUn'ii lo-niorro\v, Tiio s(ia is a lillh; more ;i;:^i- tated ihan sinc(» vve hdt ; 1iovv('V(m\ I ili.inU I jini gellin;,' used to llnj sea-fMrin^^ lil'u ; i do not le(3l the least symptom of seasickness, and enjoy a very good appetite I am sitting all alone on the hin-ricanp-deck. Away to th'^ noi'th west appears, sinking gradn;illy into the bosom of tho oce.ni, the last faint onllines of Knrop«!an land. All tlni rest around al)ont is the trackless deep. I)ne "west is thi; full I'onnd glohi* of the snn plunging down almost [)erpondicnlarly into Ihe waters. Ju^t as he di[)s, a gohhni path of light shoots aci-oss tin.' whoh; way between tin? orb and onrshi|); tn** sky is of a hi'autiful palii bln<';but, towards the hoiazon it tak(>s a pnrpUi hue, and then blnshes into fnirce red, whi(di is gi'adnally converted into a bright 11 im(?-coloin- in the im n(»diate vicinity of llie mightv disc. Nothing can rendei* the <;xfnji- site beauty, l)oth of coloni' and structure, of a bur- nished arcdi of clouds that appear to follow in the wake of the snn, like a ^loi'ions shroud about to be thrown over his grave. 1 had often read of a « suns(,'t at sea »; but the reality is beyond any description. The ocean appears so round and Hat, that it gives one almost a liking for ih(; f)riinitive theoi'ies on the form of our globe. Worduvorlh, tin; Knglisli poet, once gazed on such ascfun;; and he thus beautifully connects its ponrtrayal with th(> praises of the Immaculate Mother. FiCt me repeat Ihe lines: ** Woman ! above all women '/lorified ! Our tviuted nature's solitary boast ! Purer th in f')ara on central ocean tos't ; Fairer iiian i'^astcrn skies at suus.t fttrown With iaaci«d ro^ei. " •V — bS — How honnlifiil must she not, thnn, "be ! and, oh 1 how woiihy of onr lovo, siiici lior beauty is only lh<» oiit,vvai-(l form of hor goodnoss ! The smi W(mU down ov(»r Afrira, which, tliongh now not very disl.'int, is lii(l(hni from onr view. It h.Ms jnst snnk ov(M' th(i connlry of Sy[)hax and Mas- sinissa, of (^yi)i'lan and Angnstin. It now streams along lh(^ p'jiins whleasantly; but the sun was ratluu' warm to render the promenade on deck comfortable. 1 have j ist closed my bn^viary, after reciting matins and lauds for Chi'is^mas-eve. All is silent on board, foi- most of the passengers have retired to b(Ml, and others are qui(^tly reading. I am sitting at the long tabh? in the cabin, coutdudinu: th(» day's notes The only imise I can hear, aj).':rt fi'om Ihe dull monotonous noise of tin? turning sci-ew, 's the? rumbling of the waves that bi,'at against tin? sides of the vessel. To-morrow, then, please God,, we shall land in Africa ! How little I thought, at this time last year, r.i' ■> ""*>. " ■ >! ■'J ' i f -"I . ' '1. ' ^' .r 1 i-^ ^ * 1; ;• f 1' . . if. ^i -.86 that by next Ghristmas-evd" T would be coasting along the Mediterranean, amidst scenes and weather so different from Canada I Yet, here I art), so ve^y, very far from home, and so near that Jerusalem which our office commemorates so often in these holy times ! Oh I how I long to catch a sight of the city of Zion, the land of Promise, and kneel in prayer at our Lord's tomb! We thought, when we left Rome, that we would have the happiness of passing Christmas-day cither in Jerusalem or Beth- lehem ; but that is now impossible. If, however, all goes on as well as heretofore, we shall be there for the Epiphany. Up to the present time we have every reason to thank God, for they tell us on board that the weather is unusually fine for the season ; and, so far, we have not had the slightest disappoint- ment or accident to regret. It would be ingratitude not to attribute, under God, our good fortune to the prayers of those whose warm love and charity urge them to pray for us continually. We shall not forget them in the Holy Land. ••♦■' r ▲ PR IGA. Friday, Christmas-eve. — Hero I am, dear C, one* more on terra fxrma^ seated in my room at the « H6tel P6nin8ulaire,» in Alexandria. I got up very early this morning, for I desired very much to get the first glimpse of Africa as it rose oui of the ocean. When I came on deck I was informed that we had come in sight of the light-house, off the harbour, during the night, but that we had « bet about, » ae the sailors say, till day-break, to wait for the pilot- Looking over the lee-bow (please note how nautical my language is getting), I perceived a very tall white house, with a red top, rising from a low ridgo of sandy hills. The house was the pharot, or lighl- heute, — no longer the once far-famed < Pharos of ^ JUV -87- Alexanrlrin," one of the world's wonders in ancient li IK'S, — but a common place atrjiir, such as I had orten S!'en at ho iie. The sandv hills were the first peep of the had of ('ham. Shortly afier, the shore cxtendt'd; rocks appcfued here and Ih re at the sur- face of the water; then we hegnn to descry quite a foi'est of masis ; next cauie hei;,^hts crowned with fortifh-ations ; and, at last, Alexandria I'fivealed itself to our view. At G|. o'clock we look in the pilot fron Ills liltle boat in whii h h(i had come to meet us. He was a swarthy Arab, short and thick-set, with p^rey curling' heard and whiskers. lie won.' a green lurl)ari, a lon^% faded, blue, ti^Hii-fittin^' coat, a pair of red tnrned-np shoes, and notliinr/ else — at least, I think so, foi* I could neither see breeidieson his baie lej^^s nor shirt on his bare bosom (P. S. — I afterward found out that he had both those essi'ulials of decency, but in su(di a dilapidat(»d condition that they might be looked on as a » tlimsy excnsi'.))) Notwithstanding this penui-y of dre?)S, he steered us safely through the shoals and ships that ci'owd- cd th(» I ort and its entrance ; and at 8 o'(dock we cast anchor in full view of the town, at about half 01' perhaps a quarter of a mile from the landing- place. ' • ' " In about two minutes, we, and, indeed, all the passengers, were sui'ronnded l)y a horde of half- nak(?d Ai'ab boatmen, who had clambered up the sides of the shi[), and who insisted, with shouts, voci- f(Mations, pleading and gesticulations, in every tongue, known and unknown, on cari'yingusoff, bags and baggage, body and bones, into their respective boats, and th(niC(» to the wharf, for any pi'ice we wished to mention. Such a Bibid of confusion, and such a vagabond-looking set, I never before had met, and hope never to meet again. It was my ^ood fortune to single out one more respectable than the rest, and whom I afterward '>••' li'i = > •l ■ * ■■.■v:'"ii •.;.<, »-.l. <' — 88 — i / ??«.•> I II m found to be a good honest Maltese Catholic, who rendered us good service as a guide in the city. Hii ; name was Philip. I bargained with Philip, and for 8 francs he undertook to convey us to our hotel, which he did to our satisfaction. So, here I am, after taking a good breakfast and performing some necessary obligations, sitting in a handsome room in a hotel opposite a largt square called « La place des Consuls.)) We cannot go ou* to visit yet, on account of the great heat ; so I thought . I might as well complete my notes from last evening. Later in the day we set out, when the heat had somewhat abated, to ssek for a Catholic church, to that we might have the consolation of saying mast on Christmas. We very luckily had not gone far up the street when we met a Capuchin monk with a . great flowing beard. He turned out to be the chaplain of the English-speaking Catholics, a Prussian by birth, and exceedingly affable. He conducted ; to the vicar-general (the bishop is at the Council); and our papers were examined and approved, so that we can celebrate the Holy Mysteries on to-morrow. The good Father promised to call on us during the course of the evening or to-morrow, and we came back to our hotel. Saturday^ Christmas- Day. — A merry Christmas to you, dear C., and to all kind freinds across the wa- ters 1 I said my three masses in St. Catherine's church this morning ; and then, after grand mass, we hired a vehicle to go round the city and see the sights. Alexandria was founded by Alexander the . Great, and since then has been subjected to a great many different masters ; it is now, with the rest of Egypt, under the sway of Tsmael Paoha^ a sort of "unruly vassal of the Sultan of Goiislaiitinoplo. It contains 200,000 inhabitants, formed of components Tnore heterogeneous, I think, than any other city in -8»- il « f. •I I lh§ world. All the European nations hara their representatives, either merchants or attached to tho consulate. Would you believe it? 1 made the acquaintance of a fine little Irishwoman, named Mary Duggan, formely of Halifax, — previous to that, of Waterford, and now ultimately settled down to teach school to the Nagurs of Africa. And right glad she was to see me when she learned that I wag an Irish priest. The poor Irish I— the same all over the world I — warm-liearted, generous, and with the same undying love for faith and country. She was delighted to hear that I had been to Waterford : she knew the present bishop, and also the Ursuline Convent of Mount St. Mary. She made me promise to go and see her on my return from Jerusalem. My acquaintance with Mary was formed at tht concert,from which I have just come. It was organ- ized by Father Meinrich, — the Prussian Father of whom I spoke yesterday, — and was given by the tGerman Benevolent Society, » assisted by the band from the Christian Brothers' school. Father Mein- rich had insisted on our coming; and it was very trying, I can assure you, for our feelings, to sit for three long hours, listening to German songs and speeches, in a densely-crowded house. We, however, applauded loudly \\ke everybody else ; and I ven- tured even to call for an encore, to one of the songs, which j^^ot me in hi.L^h popular favour. It was during an interlude thatl heard a young woman (33 years old— she told me so after, when we had become confi- dential) speak English behind me. I asked her whether she was Irish, though I had already detect- ed it from her fine Irish southern brogue. «I am, indeed.)) she replied. ((So am I, » said I. And so we got « a-talking, » and did lot listen much to the perfor- mance afterwards. Poor Father Meinrich was aston- ished to see Mary and myself such great friends. «Where did you meet Father Doherty before, Mary ? » i>, "^ . .' >■ s «,■•.. ■ ■ , V r I — 90 — ii'i'l i" ■ ■ ai-V'li,! .11 *\ 1 « Troth, Father, T never Inid my eyes on him heforo lo-iiight, nor h(? on nie.H '(And how did yon h«^rorn« acqnainled ?» «()hl» s;iid>ljt% « we In>li are hke lhf3 Jii'donins; w(.''d know one anolhiir ten miles oil', and in Ihe darh, too.); Bui I jviust cuine back to where I left oir. ■;.). Besides the Knroneans wlio inhabit what is called the wQnartier d'hnrope, » theie are I''^'y|)lian>, Co[)tes, Ahyssinians, Tnrks, aim Gr-ecdvs. Thf Ai'abs, too, are in j^n-eat n:imbei-s, and inhabit ibe » Qn.niicr Arahe,)) a filtiiy rej^ion with narrow winding streets, LonbMTd on each side by small slnips c;illed haznars. The Knro[)ean part oCilie t wn, which is birlhest removed from the present haiboni', is very hand- sonn3. Th(i streets are wid(! and clean, and are daily watered, to lay lh(i hue white Onsl, whi(di, niider lh(i sliglitest wind, rises in clouds, and is almost blind- inj,'. Th(3 honses are, in several plac(»s, as fine as any I liave seen in the best Knrop(.'an citi(?s. There aro sevej-al large Sl^nar<'s, having shady walks, flower- beds, and fonn tains of water. But ii'-when, turning from Ibis (juarter, yon enlcn* i1h3 • «Quartier Arabe,)) you are inlrodnced to sights, 'ocenes, and snndls of a very diilereni order. Fancy a whole labyrinth of lanes running in every direction, and crossing each ollnn' with most ine.xtricable confusion, covering an ar<'a of about a mile deep by two miles long, and extending all along what is called « Le port-nenf. » Most of the little one- story houses are shops, the reunion of which i^ called a bazaar; and the name is appropriate, for the variety of the wares is quite astonishing. The streets are, in many cases, only ten feet wide; in the middle runs a filthy stream that cari'ies away a portion of the effluvia; the rest is eaten by hungry dogs, or remains evaporating in the sun, emitting odors that have not the slightest affinity witn « the essence of roses.)) The crowd is so dense that you ;lils, iiost [jiU a ilong oiie- h i^ 3, for The « the ^gl- ean hardly pass; and the Arahs geslioulate so em- phatically when speakiiip, and shout so loudly, llial yoii would iina/^niKi lh(^y weie all (juarrelling. The lillh* childj'CMi are ciawliiif^ ahont oi silliiif^ at liie door-slcps, many of Ihern, as Hyron would sijy, win nakt'd inajt'sly. » The men have turbans oi dilleient colouis, an open shiil, and a pair oi" wide trowscM's iriiching to the knee. The women are all closely veiled. Your historical knowledge has already made known to you that Alexandria w;is lamous, m for- mer limes, lor ils learning, as wtdl as by its com- merce and enlei'[)iise. Higlit opposile the city is a little island : it was lieie ihat the Bihie was trans- lated by Ihe Seventy Intei'preleis into the Greek lan- guage/ It was in Alexandria that h*arning princi- pally nourished in iIkj first ages of Christianity. Here Ihe Gnostic heretics had iheir scIkjoIs ; here the Arians persecuted the great St. Aihanasius, who was bishop of Alexandiia ; here lived Origenes and St. Cyi'il ; here was burned the great library by the Calijjh Omar, in the seventh century ; here Pom|»ey succumbed to lh^» fatal graces of Cleopatra; here, too, the same queen held enthralled by her beauty the triumvir Anthony ; and, in hue, it was near Alexandria that the famous Lord Nelson defeated the French tleet at Ahoukir, and blasted the fruits of Napoleon's s[)lendid victories in Kgyot- Butall these souvenirs are now, perhaps, forgotten, or, at least, little thought of, amid the noise and bustleof modern indus.ry.Alexanrlria, to-day, though still considerable, is greatly diminished from what it once was. Indeed, no traces of its former history remain, save the two monoliths called «F^ompey's pillar)) and « Cleopatra's needle,)) which stand at opposite extremities of the city. Christmas is now in the past, and we intend start- ing to-morrow for Port-Said, en route for Jaffa. Our * ' 1 'I • . T IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 IS I.I I4£ lii 1^ !" li^ l.2o i 1.4 IIM 1= 1.6 p;^^' <^ ^ n /a /A I o^ I t i\ * ■■*.» IH ■t !il \ 11 ,^ i' . » tV f". (•■ ■' ^' * ■ 1 j ■ N,'S i-;; f't !, ' '' r JP '■ v ■* ■ f *■ ■ . J ■*• •t «f ■■ T .' :^» * v.';.. . -5- i . i) < ', .. . ,• j fi n passports had been taken from us when we landed, that they might be examined by the Turkish autho- rities ; we got them back to-day at the office of the British consul, whither they had been sent. We hired a vehicle after breakfast^ to take us as far as Pompey's pillar. We passed through the Arab village, amid the mud-cabins and little naked chil- dren ; then out of the city, through the Gabari gate, and down towards the strand, to see the catacombs. They are square caverns, dug in the rock along the beach, for about a quarter of a mile ; they did not appear to me to be very interesting. The heat is so great that I fear I shall be awfully tanned by the sun. We passed a caravan of pilgrims on their way to Mecca. It seems that we shall meet them often now, for this is the season for this devotion. They reminded me of a gipsy camp. They had pitched their tents on a great pasture outside the city, and were cooking some victuals to be eaten after sun-down. Tho camels stood grazing near the tents. The men and women were sitting in groups, engaged, I suppose, in prayer. They had strings of beads in their hands, and muttered as they passed them through their fingers. I had already met many Turks in the city thus « saying their beads » as they went along the streets, or as they sat at their shop- doors waiting for customers. The present month is their Rhamadan^ or fasting- time. It began on the 6th current, and will terminate on the 6th of January. The faithful eat absolutely nothing from sunrise to sundown ; but they pay up for lost time during the night. The law of Maho- met allows them to eat as much as they like during the night-time ; and they are not slow, from all accounts, in putting the privilege to good advantage. We next passed by a Turkish cemetery. The tombs are flat slabs of stone, six feet long by four feet wide, slightly raised from the ground, but ■* -93- laying flat ; at the head and foot is a long narrow stone surmonted by the crescent. It is forbidden for Christians to go through this holy ground ; so we had to drive round the base of a hill, and on coming to a turn in the road we perceived Pompey's pillar on the summit. I here transcribe verbatim from my note-book. 26th December. — I am now leaning; against the base of Pompey's pillar, a splendid monolith of pink granite, 114 feet high. It is of the Corinthian order, and its proportions are exquisitely beautiful. lU position sets it ofT to much advantage, being on the summit of a hill which slope* down from it on all sides. Beneath me, looking westward, is the Turkish grave-yard, with its white stones glancing in the sun. Beyond is a fine grove of trees, and still further rises the splendid palace built by Ibrahim Pacha, the late Khedive of Egypt. Southward I see the glit- tering waters of the Mediterranean, and to the east I can descry the minarets of Alexandria. As I write, I am surrounded by a whole troop of little half- naked Arab urchins, clamouring for backsMche, and offering all sorts of objects for sale. We then drove along the canal of the Nile for halt* an hour, amid most enchanting scenery. The road was shaded by tall over-branching trees, and bordered by handsome country-seats, chiefly belong- ing to the merchants of the city. There are orange groves with the most tempting golden fruits, acacias, fig-trees, and a host of most beautiful flower- plots. It is a little paradise. We 'then visited the palace of Ishmael Pacha, the present governor, who resides generally at Cairo, and drove home through the European quarter, just in time for six-o*clock dinner. 21th December. — I said mass this morning in honour of the Holy Family, to whose native countrf ^ ■ff ■•••..".■ . 'I. *-r ^■. ■'■t « ' ■ ;;. ■ *■' 1 1 i 1 wr p li" « ly : ■V W ■ ]!■' i •■ * nv r. ill if II M m . <'. i:-. 11 H"'.S. i. -r -94- we are travelling. The cathedral is dedicated to St. Catherine the patroness of all the eastern churches. It is a very fine hnildmg ; over the fi'ont altar is a very handsome picture of the saint confuting the pMgan philosophers : it is a gift from the impress of Austria. Tbe Capuchin monks, who attend the church, have a convent close by ; they are kind and pious. On the other side the Christian Brothers have a large school, attended by 600 children. The Jubilee is now going on, and is preached in French an. I Italian alternately by the friars. There is also a nunnery, but I. had not lime to visit it. The Greek schismatics are veiy numerous here, too; their church of St. Nicholas is clumsily bui.t, but very lai'gM. There are Armenians iCalholics), who also follow the Greek rite ; they are presided over by a Patriaich, now in Rome. I noticed a singular phenomenon here. Among the inhabitants of the citv are a number of Nubians, as black as the I was going to say as the devil,— but let us say the ace of spades, — and just as ugly. Now, above all others, — ^,jnst imagine ! they lanst needs dress from top to toe in the purest of white! The great wenches, with lips as red as cherries and as large as plum-puddings, flaunt a white mushu veil over a loose white dress; and the darkies, with their great rolling whites of eyes, have white turbans and white shirts. What's this for? — can you tell? Isit niisplaci.'d beauty or love of contrast? Chi lo sa^ I told you that the Arab and Turkish women are veiled. A piece of bamboo descends across the middle of the forehead to the top of the nose ; there it meets a cross-bar, and from this hangs a triangular black piece of cloth, which covers the face to the chin when the wind does not blowita^ide. The chin is tattooed with blue ink, and the nails on each hand are besmeared with red paint. I cannot say whether this is a prescription >.' of the Koran, or the «nick of fashion »; tiit it iS abominably ugly — worse than waterfalls. Donkeys are all the go — in fact, ((quite the thing, » out here. They are small, but spirited, and very lively; you meet them at every corner, and the Arabs tease you, in broken English, to ((get up, sir ; » « goot tonkey, mister ; » « go fast, sir.)) If you do mount, you find yourself in a great red saddle, with very high pommel. You can hold on to this or the reins, as you choose. I preferred the former. When your feet are firm in the stirrup, the little guide, a fine little Arab brute, asks you : « Where you go, sir?)) ((Any where you like,» I replied, «so long as you bring me back to the hotel in twenty minutes. )) Bang ! bang ! goes the stick on the little donkey's hind-quarters ; gingle 1 gingle ! go the bells round his neck. I shut my eyes and hold hard. Off we go at a furious gallop, the Arab urchin keeping pace all the time, and shouting like mad. Oh! if you had but seen your brother then, dear St. C, flying through the streets of Alexandria on an ass, pursued by a fierce-looking Arab ! It was not so dangerous, however, as I imagmed ; and I was not a bit ridiculous— for, as I said, it*s all the go here. ^. •: . ... -> ;. . • = But, ohl if you could see the camels! They are not over-handsome when you see them in pictures; but when they are in the streets, passing along in caravans, with loads of hay or stones tied up to their humps, they are absolutely frightful. Their great awkward necks are poked out as if they were look- ing for some one to cut it off and have done with it. Their skin is as shrivelled as a cross old maid's, only a shade browner ; their knees are knock-knees, and their feet are splaw-feet, fine for killing cockroaches, but by no means neat. As to their gait, I can com- pare U to nothing but the Grecian bend. Did you ever see the Grecian bend ? I witnessed it on tka •f v\ '■'•■v., ■*l v';' ■ ..■■■: f X •■■■'.' :'^i^^■ o*^^**?; PI'' ■•>'t ^1 1 1 'V .'4 I 'I ■'. t' . "f ' , ' -■ -I ' 'I ji'U 96 — ij.n^j- \''/i Boulevards in Paris for the first time, and here for tlie second. ■ ' ' ' '• ' " ■ ' '^' ' Dogs are very nnmerons, and belong to no one. I counted fourteen of Ihem basking in llie sun on one of tlie squares. Tliis basking is not exclusively confined to dogs. You very often come across a full-grown nigger stretched at full lenglh, and en- j ying a comfortable nap under the scorching rays of the sun ; and though the heat is strong enough to roast a leg of mutton, the sleeper appears to take it quite coolly. There is no use disputing taste, however; so t did not disturb any of them. Nous(') avons achete nos bilhits pour Jaffa, et k deux heures de relevee nous soinmes partis de notre hotel, avec notre guide, le bon Philippe. II nous a conduits a bord d'un vaisseau d s Messagerieslmpe- riales, etnous aquittes apres nous avoir souh?nte bon voyage. Nous avons attendu jusqu'a 3 heures le completchargementdu navire. Alors on entendit un coup de sifflet, I'aucre fut levee, et VEriilan se mit en mouvement. Pen a pen nous nous degageames des nombreux vaisseaux de toute espece et de tout pavilion qui encombraient le port, nous passons devant ladouane. — un elablissement magnifique en pierre de taille,— puis la ville s'efface rapidement ; bientot nous ne voyons plus que le haut de la colonne de Pompee, voici enfin que nous n'avons plus d'un cote que la vaste mer et de I'autre un banc de lerre basse et sablonneuse. Le temps est an beau fixe; le vent est bon, nous serous au Port Said demain 2S Decembre. — A notre reveil ce. matin nous ti'ou- vames notre vaisseau a I'ancre dans le Port Said. Gomme nous devons passer la journ6e ici, nous profitons du retard por.r aller voir la ville. Des bateliers Arabes nous conduisent i terre pour la ( ' ) Here, again, Mr. Doherty breaks oat in French for a few pages. few modiquo sonime de 2 francs. La ville est situ^e SUl* vino pointe de terre separee du continent parun port tres-coiisiderable qu'on a crense a I'entree du canal de Saez. C'est nn marais qu'on a rehausse et des- seche an moyen de terre apportee a dos de chameau. Jugo nn pou quel travail cela a du couter. Nous Lrouvanies lo quai cncombre d'Arabes fla- neurs, et probablenient voleurs par la meme ; mais, . sans nous occuper de leurs demandes pour des backshiche^ nous nous rendimes a la ville. Elle est tout entiere de bois, et me fait la mine d'un immense champ de foire. Elle n'a pas Pair stable; on volt- qu'elle ne tire son importance que de I'activite pas- sagere des premiers travaux, mais elle ne durera gueres. Les maisons sont plus on moins allignees. Chaqiie nation a son quartier. II y a des consu- lats fraucais, anglais, prussien, es^jagnol, italien, portuguais, chacun ombrage du pavilion national. Ici, comme a Alexandrie, nous voyons les Arabes couches an grand soleil. Les femmes out encore le bambou et le voile. Mais j'ai remarque une parti- cularite qui ne m'avait pas frappe la-bas. Ghaque femme porte, attachees au bambou dont je parte, plusieurs pieces de monnaie d'or ou d'argent. C'est sa dot. Chacun est a meme de compter sa fortune. De cette faron le cavalier salt a quoi s'en tenir avant de faire ses avances. Mais, mon Dieu I la femme est ici comme ailleurs, on me dit que les pieces sont souvent fausses ou empruntees. Nous sommes alles rendre visite aux Peres Ga- pucins qui sont encore loges dans un convent pro- visoire. lis sont trois pretres et quelques freres. lis construisent actuellement un beau convent et une eglise assez grande. Le tout vient d'un genereux bienfaiteur autrichien qui leur a defendu de devoiler son nom. Mais Dieu le salt. II y a environ 4u00 catholiques dans la ville. A Textremite de la pointe et en avant de la ville, est un phare de 182 pieds de 5 '- it ':'■■•' s ■'i •j.ti'~- • (-.• I — 98 — "*i(i III \r. w^i el' It I 1 i1:i. "Mt 'HI haut. En arriere de la viile et de Tautre cote du port, on voit le canal, dont I'entree est marquee par deux grosses tours peintes en rouge et affectant la forme d'obelisques. Tout autour s'etend le desert silencieux et solitaire, sans le moindre signe de vegetation. A5heuresp.M. nous quittons le Port Sa'id. Le temps est superbe. Demain, enfin, nous verrons la Terre Sainte. 29 decembre. — Nous void done en face de I'objet de nos desirs ! La Terre Sainte est devant nous ; nous contemplons, les larnies aux yeux, et le ca3ur rempli d'emotions les plus deuces, ce sol beni, te- moin de tant de miracles, la patrie de Jesus, Marie, Joseph. Notre vaisseau est a I'ancre devant Jaffa, I'ancien Joppe, a un demi-mille du rivage. Encore quelques minutes, et nous aurons touche au terme de notre voyage. Nous avons fait le grand trajet. Dieu nous conduit comme par la main. Sit bcnc- dictus per sxciila. Jaffa rises in amphitheatre, by the border of the sea, to the height of about a hundred feet. Oh ! vs^hat a host of souvenirs hover round its rock-bound summit ! Here Noah, at God's command, built the ark, one of the beautiful figures of the Church of God. Here Jonas was sent on his prophetic mission to Nineveh. Here Peter had the vision of clean and unclean animals ; here he preached and performed miracles. Here, too, came the warlike hosts of the Crusaders to do battle in the cause of God ; and here, still, I can see the cross which stands over the Franciscan convent, shining out brilliantly as it catches the rays of the morning sun, like a beacon- light to guide poor wearied travellers in the path that leadeth to rest ! In front of the port lies a ridge of breakers, through which a narrow passage leads to the wharf. It appears that, in stormy weather, the landing is — 99 — the Oh! ound the of ssion and rmed )f llie and 31- the as it aeon- path IS very dangerous. A few weeks ago the Emperor of Austria was on the point of being lost as he came through. We have, therefore, every reason to thank God for the splendid weather and the calm unruffled sea. After a good deal of fighting with the ras- cally Arab boatmen, we hired a small craft, and in ten minutes we landed at the pier. The custom- house ollicors made no secret about telling us that by paying a small backshiche they would forego the examination of our baggage. Of course we made ourselves agreeable. We jostled through a motley crowd of hangers-on, sternly refusing to accept their services, and made our way to the convent. We were warmly received by Father Daniel, whose ofTice it is to see after the pilgrims ; and on our ex- pressing a desire to say mass, we were conducted to the sacristy. I need not tell you with what emotion I offered up the Holy Mysteries for the first time in the Holy Land. The :hurch-floor is covered with mats, on w^iichare a lot of little Arab children in the Turkish dress, and, behind them, about 100 women, all dressed in white. The effect is handsome. They are half-kneeling, half-sitting. There are some men also, with their turban^ in their hands, and who have taken off their shoes at the door. All are seem- ingly devout and prayerful. On the grand altar is a picture of the miraculous vision of St. Peter. I said mass here in thanksgiving for our safe jour- ney. The church is all hung round with exvotos. After the morning's devotion we were conducted to the pilgrims' refectory, and got some very good coffee without milk, and very good bread witliout buttc^'. We must not expect to see much more butter till we reach home again ; but the coffee is delicious. You can have no idea of how the coffee tastes out here. Whether the plant is different, or whether they have some secret in making it, I do not know ; but it is not the same beverage at all as we drink in Canada. % ' '■:■{ •J .,>'■•' ,'■/ ■■'*^^^^.- ,\:- ■ ^ 1' -1. \ir — 100 — [H- ■ ''If:: II' V ii > • 111 It was now 10 o'clock, and we had hardly reached the parlour of the monastery, where we were sur- rounded by the Arabs again, who wished to hire horses to take us to Jerusalem. Father Daniel, an old Austrian soldier, drove them out, not at the point of the bayonet, but with a robust broom-handle, and, selecting one from amongst them, told us that lie was the only honest man in the crowd. We gave him 50 francs to furnish us with 4 horses, a mule for our baggage, and an Arab guide with an ass. Twenty-five francs were deposited in the Father's hands; the rest was to be paid when we should reach Jerusalem. \Ye were to start at one o'clock, after dinner, and to remain all night at the convent of Ramleh. Padre Daniele gave us, in broken French and Italian, a few useful hints as to the manner of treating with the Arabs, and they agree with what had been told us before. A little blustering must be done ; otherwise they would play tricks upon travellers. They are the most unprincipled set of fellows I ever came across. They make a bargain with you, and when they get you on the road they insist on getting more money, together with the eternal backshiche. This backshiche is an Arab word corresponding to the French pourboire and the Italian qualche cosa per I'amor di Dio. Every Arab, man, woman, and child, asksyou for it. They appear to think that Europeans liav^e no right to pass them without opening their purses. We dined at twelve o'clock w^ith a French doctor who had just returned from Jerusalem and a Tur- kish gentleman who belongs to the household of the Pacha. Padre Daniele tied up a few bottles of wine and some oranges and cakes, and prevailed on us to take tliem with us for the journey. At one o'clock exactly we mounted our sorry beasts, and, preceded by the guide, we bade adieu to the good monks,^ and set out on our journey under a boiling sun. ed ir- Lve )ld in I lie, hat ave tulc ass. ler's jacli ifter it of 3ncli Y of wbat must upon et of 'gain iliey the word the Arab, ppear Ihem I ioctor Tur- of the wine I lis to rdoclv ceded Ks, and 3 — 101 — Before we got cl^ar of the town wo Jiad to pass through a lot of little steep, narrow streets, narrower even than those we had seen in Alexandria. They were filled with all sorts of persons — working, talking, sitting, or drinking coffee, and smoking. There were shoemakers, carpenters, tinkers, and weavers; Ihere were old women selling oranges, and old men selling wine ; some scolding, some laughing, but all bawling lustily at the top of their voices. T threw the reins over my horse's neck, and delivered myself up 'to his instinct to extricate me from this Babel. I shut my eyes twice, as I saw him (as I thought) about to crush a few naked children that were lying in the road, and twice more, as he slapped an old woman's face by whisking his tail. He managed, however, to escape any veVy untoward accident; and after about a quarter of an hour thus picking our steps, we found ourselves at the out- skirts of the town, on the plains of Sharon. ' - ' As you leave the precincts of the town you find yourself on a very beautiful road, bordered on each side with groves of orange-trees and cactus. The effect of the golden fruit, half-hidden amid the luxuriant foliage, is strikingly handsome. It con- tinues thus for about a quarter of a mile ; and then, just as you arrive at the tomb of a Dervish — a small Turkish temple with nine cupolas — you are issued into a vast plain stretching away as far as tha eye can reach, in gentle undulations, and covered with a mantle of rich green. This is the plain of Sharon. It is the former country of the Philistines. Here Samson burned their crops ; here he took to himself for wife that upsetting young female called Delilah, who was the cause of all his troubles ; here, too, David fed numerous flocks of sheep. At the en- trance of the plain we fell in with a caravan, com- posed of the Protestant bishop of Jerusalem, his wife, his son and his wife, a Scotchman from Glas- f) '; ■■■-• •}...,'':■• . •■., %v'.'' ■■■J". '■.■.»»- •-♦.^ ' -^'-tU ( ■ f •■J "■ I % ^:a .:( IP I -I ,' • >' 1 ■i.r * 1 •; i--.-3''. .i.. i':-^' — no- arranged to make the « True Way of the Cross » to- morrow, with one of the monks as ourgnido. What happiness on tliis new-year's morning ! — to begin the year by following the footsteps of onr snlfering Lord ! God grant I may never stray far from them. We went to see the ReverctuUssimc P'ather Seraphino, the Superior and Provincial of the Franciscan Order for the Eastern countries. He was most affable, and told ns that we could say mass at any of tbe sanc- tuaries we chose. He served ns with cofl'ee, and then a delicious liqueur. From the window of his room we had a full view of Mount Olivet. New-Year's Day, 1 870. — Would you have thought, dear St. C, last new year's day, that I would address you on that-day-twelve-months from Jerusalem? I myself had not the least notion of it. However, you see, such is the case ; and I give thanks to God for such a favour. I wrote you all my good wishes in a letter, so I need not repeat them here. I will, there- fore, give you a short account of wdiat happened me since yesterdav. At G o'clock this morning Pere Clement came to onr rooms to guide ns through the ((Way of the Gross.)) He is an Italian, and is emaployed as a teacher in the school held by the good Fathers. As we wended our way through the rough, uneven streets, he told us about his school. His pupils are chiefly Arabs, but there are some Turkish children and a few Europeans. They are taught the ordinary branches of primary education in Arab and Italian. When they attain the age of 14 they are generally apprenticed to some trade, and continue still under the immediate surveillance of the monks. The Franciscans have workshops here for eTery trade, and one of the lay brothers superintends each. The poor little children are generally .very disgusting (excuse the word) and slovenly, having no domestic education, and being, consequently, in blissful 111- ignorance of anything approaching to cleanliness or good manners. Besides their schooling, the Fathers are often obliged to give them clothes. The first thing done in class every morning, even before prayer, is to wash their faces, hands, &.C., &ic., besides making a raid on the creeping things that abound on their persons. Then they are furnished with a good breakfast, a little recreation, and class begins. All this is very onerous ; but the monks are glad that the parents allow them to come to school at all, for in the education of the children and their early training lie all ihe hopes of converting the popu- lation. ((Nous n'avons guore de consolations,)) saiV/ Pere Clement; ((mais nous faisons toujours ce que aous pouvons, et laissons a Dieu le reste.)) 1 found this sentiment very beautiful : it pourtrays the patient resignation of the missionary, and gives the spirit requisite in all those who labour in God's cause. Indeed, nowhere could that sentiment be more opportune than here, in this very city, where Christ — the first missionary — toiled and preached with such little apparent success. He worked and i:)rayed for three years, desiring that all sinners might (( be converted and live n ; yet, after all He did, at the hour of death He only had Mary and John at the foot of the cross ! His mission appeared to have been a complete failure ; still, in God's own time, the seed which he had sown sprang into maturity, and the world was converted. In such a spirit does the holy Franciscan friar work in his own obscure but powerful way, amid the trials and poverty of the Eastern missions. He labours and waits in the spirit of hopeful prayer, and he must eventually succeed. At half-past six, amid the loneliness of the desert- ed streets, and in the gray dawn of morning, wc knelt at the first station. The whole length of the road, from the first station to Mount Calvary, might m, i-r 112 — i''*f .44 be computed, I think, to about the three-fourths of a mile. The first three stations are made in one street, which runs downwards with a slight inclination. You then go along a level street, and come to the fourth station, where a narrow lane intersects the main road. It was at this place, on a stone step, that the Blessed Virgin caught sight of her Divine Son. You continue to follow the same line till you arrive at the fifth station. Here you meet the first houses, for the road we have first travelled is bordered on either side by high stone-walls. Here, too, the ascent begins ; and it must have been very painful for our dear Lord to drag the heavy cross up its rugged pavements. It is about as steep as Mountain-hill in some parts. From the sixth station to the seventh you pass under a long archway formed by houses which are built right across the road ; and here you come to a high stone-wall, where a high column stands. This was for^ierly at the gate of the city; and as criminals always passed through it, on their way to execution, it was called the « Judiciary Gate. » Here Jesus fell fainting for the second time. The sentence of death was read over Him for the last time, and He was hurried on to Golgotha. . -• He continued His upward, toilsome w^ay ; and after going about twelve feet, He met the pious women, and, forgetting his own sufferings. He turned to them and sweetly consoled them, saying : ((Weep not, daughters,)) &c. The 9th station is close to the church. Finally you enter, and the 10th, 11th, 12th and 13th are all on Mount Calvary. The 14th station is, of course, at the Holy Sepulchre, in the middle of the church, under a largedome or cupola, at about fifty paces from the summit of the mount. After performing the station I went to the sa- cristy, and prepared for mass. When I was vested, I was conducted by the servant to Mount Calvary again ; and there, at the altar erected on the very — 113 — spot where Jesus was nailed to the cross, and at about ten feet from the xjlace where lie hung for three hours, I began the mass called Missa tic Pas- sione. (^) , " • • Oh ! my dear St. C, shall I ever forget this mo- ment — so solemn, so sweet and consoling, and yet so dreadful ! I am not ashamed to confess that I had wept bitter, scalding tears, at the diiferent stations; but here I was seized with a sort of tremor, which rendered it impossible for me to begin tlie Holy Mystery for some time. ; f Methought that the rich ornaments, the golden chandeliers, the thousand bright lamps, the won- drous flowers, the marble- vaulted roof — in a word, that all the riches with which piety has bedecked this thrice Holy Place had disappeared. The numerous pilgrims who were kneeling around about the altar had also vanished, and the hill was once more naked, rugged, and reddened with blood. The ruthless bronzed Roman legionaries, the trium- phant High-priest, the jeering Pharisees, the excited rabble, started once more into life. They were all there, exultmg, with hideous, fiendish joy, at their brutal victory. I heard their cries and vociferations and blasphemies ringing out on the clear air and mounting to the skies. I listened to the cruel echo, as it came reverberating back over the city from Mount Olivet, and then went on defiantly till it died away in the mountain-gorges near Bethlehem. I raised my eyes to the crors. The large, life-sized image of the crucified Redeemer that stands on the hallowed spot became suddenly animated ; the rich, generous blood of the Lamb flowed in torrents ; the huge nails clang to the festering wounds ; the dying eyes were mournfully and tenderly turned towards me ; the lips moved, and I heard a voice ■ .' " «r ■■■ ri'^^ (') Pasaion-Mass. ^'%': »Y Jm ■ !• •> C": * V,*-': k • '.V '■it .>»-:■■ -1 *<■ — 114 — whispering affectionately : " My child, see how much I love thee." At that moment I would have willingly laid down my life ; and since this was neither possible nor required, I promised, from the very depths of my soul, never, never more to mor- tally offend Him who had thus suffered for me. And, oh ! do believe me, dear St. C, you were present to my memory then, and I prayed that you« might ever be a worthy spouse of the Divine Master, ever near Him, ever close to Him, till He would take you to Himself, and crown your life of sacrifice amid Heavenly joys. I made my thanksgiving-act in the Holy Sepul- chre, leaning on the marble slab that covers the tomb of Christ. How happy if I could have felt some of those delicious throes of Divine love, such as the seraphic Francis felt in the contemplation of Heaven's gifts! But, alas ! the field of my heart had not been sufficiently cultivated to produce those pure flowers of devotion. I had, therefore, to content myself with some acts of Desire, and especially of Resolution. It was late when we got back to the convent, somewhat tired, but well satisfied with what we had seen and felt. I have obtained permission to sleep in the church to-night, and say mass in the Sepulchre to-morrow morning. 27id January. — Any one wishing to say mass in the Holy Sepulchre must pass the night in the adjoining convent, where there are a few rooms set apart for pilgrims. The reason of this is, that the Turks, possessing the keys of the church, lock it up after sunset, and do not open it until pretty late in the day ; on some days they even keep it closed the whole time. Such is the established rule ; and this is why the different rites, or, at least, ttie priests that profess them, are obliged to re- side permanently in cells that open on the church. — 115-^ It is curious to sec with what jealousy the allott portion is guarded hy each. But of all this I wii. speak more at leiighth on a i'ulure day. Let me only remark that the Catholics have the right of saying three masses every day (two low masses and one high mass), at the appointed hour, in the Holy Sepulchre itself. The two low masses are at 4 o'clock and half- past four A.M., and the high mass at 5. For these motives, then, I was ohliged to take lodging, as 1 have said, for the night, in a little room that opened out on the Latin part of the gallery that surrounds the cupola. I, however, considered this more in the light of a great favour than anything else, for it gave me the opportunity of passing the solemn night-hours alone in the Tomb and on Calvary. Accordingly, at 4 o'clock yesterday evening, we all went together to take part in the grand proces- sion that takes place at that hour every day to the dilTerent stations which are in the church. They are as follows : lo. The chapel where our Lord appeared to His Blesse dMother after His resurrection; 2o. The pi'ison, or place where He was kept whilst they were making the last preparations for His crucifixion ; 3o. The chapel of St. Helena, the place where the cross was found ; 4o. An oratory where St. Helena prayed whilst the search for the cross was being made; 5o. The Impropcrium^ or chapel containing t?ie stool on which Jesus sat blindfolded whilst they crowned him with thorns ; 6o. The place where He was nailed to the cross ; 7o. The place where the cross was planted ; 8o. The stone or -rock on which His body was anointed after death ; 9o. The Holy Sepulchre ; lOo. The place where He appeared to Mary Magdalen on Easter-morning ;; llo. Finally, the procession returns to the starting-point, the chapel of Our Lady, where the ceremony terminates by a solemn benediction of the Blessed Sacrament. .1 ' 'i'. ''' i-i 'V. ■/•>>• •■■.-.•f.. .'v • 1^ i 4^ .il M . tt"' 'it !'■'"-'.■ ' il this is vory sohn^in and impressive, I assure a ; and 1 took part in it as often as I could while . remained in Jernsalem.Tho cross-bearer, accom panied by two acolytes, go lirst ; then come the surpliced monks, followed by the pilgrims. All bear in their hands lighted wax-tapers. Between each station a psalm is sung, and when arrived at the station itself a prayer recalling the mystery is chaunted, incense is olTered up, and then all proceed to the next one. The ceremony lasted about an hour and a-half. You may fancy the thrill that runs through you as you hear the words : allcre Christ appeai'cd to Mary! » — nUerc Chvisi was nailed to the cross ! )) — (( Here Christ expired ! » — nlkrc Christ was laid in tlie tomb,)) etc., according to the different stations. At seven o'clock the doors of tlie church were closed, so that I was left alone in the vast edifice with a few more Russian pilgrims. After a while the monk came to conduct us to the refectory, where we were served with a good supper, consist- ing of beans, meat, salad, and wine. We were then shewn to our rooms, and, after a little recreation, we went down again to pray at the Tomb and on Calvary. I will not attempt to describe my feelings during the solitary hours of watching I passed at both those places. They will be ever amongst the treasured remembrances of my life. Alone on Calvary ! Alone in the Tomb of Jesus ! And, oh I if those moments be so delicious, dear St. C, what must it j)e in Heaven I We ro tired after midnight, and about one o'clock I was awakened by the voice of Psalmody : the Armenians were just beginning their hour of devotion at the Sepulchre. They would be succeeded by the Coptes, these by others, and so on, for each rite has its turn. At 4 o'clock I was at the Sepulchre. I beard my companion's mass, and then said my rr f , .•, . -117- own, by the liglit of the numerous lamps that burn all around the interior, and amid the fragrance of sweet perfumes. It was a mass that I never shall forget. 1 made my thanksgiving-act on Calvary, and, after making an offering to the good Father Sac)islai)i^ who invited us to return again, we came back to the convent of Casa Nova, and enioyed a good hearty breakfast of coffee and bunns. Some time after breakfast we started on an ex- cursion down to the valley of Josnphat. We saw many things to interest us, as you niay imagine; but all these I will describe in regular order when we visit them after our return from the Dead Sea. We completed our arrangements with the Moukhrc^ or Arab guide, named Jean Aouad. We are to leave to- morrow morning by 9 o'clock for Jericho, the Dead Sea, St. Saba, and Bethlehem. We shall be three (lays on horseback, and intend reaching Bethlehem for the feast of the £]piphany. The bargain is as fol- lows : We each give Jean 80 francs for the three days ; in return, he furnishes everything — tents, beds, mules, horses, provisions, and an escort of Bedouins. It is pretty dear ; but w^e shall thus travel in perfect security, and with every -comfort. After thus providing for material w^ants, we determined to secure the spiritual advantages also ; and with this view, it was arranged that, after dinner, we would all go to confession to Mr. Ratisbonne, who lives in the convent on the <( Sorrowful Way,)) formerly the site of Pilate's palace. When we went any place all together I was always named leader, so that when we left the convent I took my station in the first rank. I men- tion the first rank, for the streets are so narrow, and withal so encumbered, that it is impossible to walk two abreast as a general thing. To explain my v.. .••<•■ — 118 I W:' liNl 'tV : i^i^^ mm X^ being chosen leader^ I may as well say tiiat it was found that my forte (like that of four-footed animals) lay in my skill in finding out any place to which I had once been. But, alas ! this once my instinct was at fault. I missed one turn, and, coming to the Tower of David ^ we found ourselves at the entrance of the « Grand bazaar, » or chief commercial street of the city. We were bewildered, not knowing which way to turn. Poor old Mr. A., who is exces- sively timid, urged us strongly to retrace our steps ; but this would have been disgraceful and cowardly I, therefore, bid them be of good cheer and follow me, pledging my reputation to bring them safe to our destination. Away we plunged headlong into the filthy crowded bazaar. The street was narrow, for the most part arched in, bordered by shops of all descriptions, and workshops, varying from the baker to the tin-smith. And, oh! such a Babel of confused noise — bellowing, shouting, and cursing ! camels, asses and horses ! men, women and children ! — it was worse than anything I had seen heretofore in Alexandria or Jaft'a. Mr. A. was now all in a tremor. He begged of us, for God's sake, to turn back; but still we pushed on through the dense crowd, hoping that some lucky turn would afford an escape. None, however, offered, until, after tra- velling a mile or more, we found ourselves obliged to come to a full stop before a high stone-wall, having a ponderous gate, which apparently led into an extensive field. Here we were completely non- plussed. I enquired from several the way to Mr. Ratisbonne's. I made use of English, French, and Italian ; I think I even made a desperate effort at German ; but I might as well have been talking Gonnemara Irish. They shrugged their shoulders, and some did not even give me the honor of a reply. After some consultation, I suggested that we should enter the gate, and, once in the open field, we would — 119 — be in a better position to sea the environs and take our bearings. This advice was acted upon rehict- antly, however; for Mr. A. now loudly called for a u turn-hack^ n coiite que coute. It would have been better for us if we had done so ; for we had hardly passed the gate when we heard shouts from all sides, and, turning round, wo found that we had suddenly become objects of popular odium. What crime had we perpetrated? Nothing less than a sacrilege, for which, twenty years ago, we would have been stoned to death on the spot ! With unhallowed feet we had, however unwittingly, sullied the sacred precin ts of the Mosque of Omar 1 ! A fierce, ugly-looking little Turk immediately rushed at us, and, happening to meet first with Mr. A., caught him by the arm, and waved a stick over him in a most threatening manner. I could not understand what he said, but it was clear! v a « notice to quit)) at the shortest possible delay. You may depend we lost no time in questioning liis authority, but beat a hasty retreat, and were glad to slink away through the angry, murmuring crowd of by- standers. Mr. A. was as pale as the sheet I write on ; but when we got out of danger, he relieved himself by a round volley of abuse, discharged full at our devoted heads, bewailing his hard lot at thus having been on the point of losing his life for the sake of three asses! Once before, he said, in Greece, he had been led astray by following us ; but this, he vowed, was the last time, even if he had to perform the rest of the journey alone. We had to go again through the filthy bazaar, and arrived at last at the convent. It was only by great coaxing and professions of sincere sorrow that we could prevail on the irate old gentleman to « come and try again.)) He did so, protesting that it was only a desire to go to confession that could induce him to risk his life in our nands. This time we 'f, .•>■••'■ ■ ^'^.' - —120 »>i i i^ iiil ' Were more forLanate, and reached Mr. Ratisbonne^s church wilhoLit any outward adventure. Here, after composing our minds and duly preparing ourselves, we had the consolation of receiving absolution under the very arch from the summit of which Jesus was condemned to death. ((My son,)) said the holy convert of Mary, ((you are now going to receive the sentence of life on the very spot where your Master received His condemnation.)) Y/e start for Jericho to-morrow. '. ' Jericho, 3rd January. My dear St. C, I date this, as you see by tbe superscription, from the plains of Jericho. We have just retired to our tents for the night; but, before going to sleep, T must, as usual, take my notes for your special benefit. It w^as ordered last night that we should leave Jerusalem at 9 o'clock this morning. I said mass in the church of the Holy Saviour at an altar dedicated to St. Thomas. After our masses we took a hasty breakfast, made our last arrangements, tied up our heads in white towels to preserve them from the sun, and mounted our (( Arab steeds )) that stood waiting for us at the convent-door. The weather was beautiful, but the sun was very hot. We left the city by the ((Pilgrims' gate,)) passed round the walls, and came to the place where Godefroy de Bouillon took the town by assault in 1099. Con- tinuing, then, our easterly direction, we descended into the valley of Josaphat, crossed the torrent of Gedron, passed by the garden of Gethsemaui, and ascended Mount Olivet in an oblique manner, till we came to a turn about half-way from the top. Here we enjoyed a splendid view of Jerusalem, which lay a little below us, on the opposite side of the valley, but soon lost sight of it by going round a ss in ated lasty ) 0\U' the tood ilhor left the V do Con- nded lit of and r, till 3 top. alem, ide of ound — 121 — * I ^.^. i the mountain, thus placing it between us and the city. We were now within the precincts of Betha- nia, a little village so often sanctified by the pre- sence of our Lord, and where many interesting souvenirs still arrest the attention of the traveller. Here is the place wliere formerly grew the fig-tree cursed by Jesus, and — singularly enough — a with- ered specimen of the same tree still stands on the same spot. Here is the site of the house of Mary and Martha. Further on, our guide pointed out the stone on which Jesus was seated when the two sisters came to tell Him of the death of Lazarus, their brother. Finally, after descending somewhat, we arrived at a little Arab village containing the tomb of Lazarus. We dismounted, and, being fur- nished by the guide with wax-tapers, descended 27 steps into the long narrow tomb, in which mass' is sometimes said by the monks. We were, of course, on our return to the upper air, surrounded by the villagers, men, women and children, all clamouring for bachshiche. We threw them some pieces ; but this did not satisfy them : they followed us with persistency for about half a mile, and we only got rid of them when the guide turned his horse and. made a charge into the midst of them. We then continued our way, and, after going down a break-neck hill, found ourselves in a deep valley, in the midst of which flows the Foun- tain of the ApostleSj so called because Jesus and His chosen ones often rested here to refresh themselves on their way to or from Jericho. It being now twelve o'clock, we halted in a little cavern ; the guide prepared an excellent dinner, and we reposed until one o'clock. " ""^' -''■••--- - When all the dinner's things were washed up and packed safely on the mule's back, our Bedouins started on before us, and we quickly mounted and followed them. The heat now surpassed anything i ; ; ' ''. ■X. ■.,.'. '-'f. M, I: ,..>••'■' ■ ^V.V >!-■.., ?VV .'i'-^' v»- » ' l' . 1 '. ■ •. r !'ij'tii — 122 — that I had hitherto experienced ; the rays shot down vertically on us, and I thought I could actually hear the blisters crack and boil over, both on myself and on my companions. I was also kept in a fever of excitement by my brute of a horse, who had, in my inexperienced hands, become perfectly unman- ageable. He was a great white beast, of pure blood, that the guide had reserved for me under the mista- ken notion that I was « a capital rider. » Shortly after we left Jerusalem he rode over to me, and, wishing me to know how much I was under a compliment to him, said, in a confidential tone : « Sir, you have good horse— the best.)) « Rather hard to manage, I think, » said I, trying to keep my seat, as he curvetted and pranced down the hill « Oh ! )) said Jean, admiringly, « oh ! no, sir ; very fine horse ; you'll see just now when he gets heated.)) I got alarmed. « Look here, Jean,)) said 1 ; « what do you mean ? What will he do when he gets heated^ as yousay ?)) ■ . . >i, ((Very fiery,)) Jean replied ; (( and then,)) he added, in an under-tone, (( I gave him to you because you ride better than the other gentlemen, and have more pleasure.)) . . . vt If I had had my whip hand at liberty I would have given the fellow a blow over the head ; but I was not able to do so, as my left hand held the reins tight, and my right clutched the saddle convulsively. I had, therefore, — however humiliating it was— to assure Jean that I was no rider at all, and I begged of him to exchange horses with me. But Jean was an Arab, and could not understand how it could happen that any one would not prefer a fiery horse to a tame one ; as to good riding, the ras- cal imagined that it comes as natural as eating. He, therefore, only smiled incredulously at what he '.■i' — 123 IS— to ktand )refer le ras- He, it he thought a poor joke, and rode .off to attend to another part of the cararan. So, dear St. C, here was your unfortunate bro- ther, in one of the worst pickles ever he remembered in life, given over to the tender mercies of a great, high-boned, round-necked, fall-eyed devil of an uncivilized horse, cursing my ill-luck at having found favour with Jean, and doing my best to keep the reins tight and my animal quiet, lest he niight get heated. "'> ■ ■ '• " .•?.>■..< rr" '...:. -^ . We struck right straight across the plain in an easterly direction, and, after- two hours' ride, came to the spot wdiere Jesus was baptized by St. John. The Jordan is at this place about 400 feet wide. Tha stream was swollen and very rapid ; the waters were of a dark-yellow tint ; the borders are covered by tall reeds and underbush. The church and marble pavements that were formerly here have long since disappeared. We here renewed our baptismal vows, washed our hands, feet, and heads, took some of the water, and, after a delay of about three-quarters of an hour, started for the Dead Sea, wdiich lies at about a league and a-half to the south. FoUowiag more or less the wanderings of the Jordan as it rushes towards the great salt lake, we galloped over a sandy plain, and, exactly at ten o'clock, dis- mounted on the shores of this far-famed body of water, amid a scene of desolation that bears evident marks of the wrath of God. ^j,; ,; The Dead Sea is twenty leagues long by four • ; w •'/,• ■ <; tfi- — 128 p •■ (f i \ leagues wide. It is embedded between the mountains of Moab, that rise perpendicularly to the height of 400 or 500 feet along its eastern shore, and the mountains of Judea, which border it to the west. Its northern waves expire on the sands of the plain of Jericho, on which we were then standing. No better place could be chosen to meditate on the innate malice of sin and the hatred God bears to it. A death- like silence reigns all around ; no living thing is seen within its precincts ; the very stones that lay on the sand are scorched and blasted. The waters are very dense, of a dark-bluo colour, and so impregnated with salt that if you immerse your hand in them, and then let it dry in the sim, it is totally covered with thick scales. We remained here about half an hour, not wish- ing to prolong our stay, on account of the great heat. The Bedouin cheik that accompanied us gave us, while here, a specimen of Arab horsemanship. While the horse was in full career, he threw himself to the right, then to the left, clinging to the saddle by one knee, and pointing his luug musket as if about to fire. Sometimes he made the horse turn suddenly to the right, then wheel to the left, while he himself swayed from one side to the other in the opposite direction to the supposed enemy. I assure you that I envied him his skill. The timid Mr. A. became quite alarmed when the young cheik rushed up to him, and swept by with the rapidity of Mghtning, holding his gun so close that it brushed Mr. A.'s umbrella. « Voyons, voyons, c'est assez,)) paid he ; «< avancons.» We accordingly advanced, leaving the plain, and again beginning to ascend tlie mountains of Judea on our w^ay'to Saint Sabas. The same tortuous, climbing, dizzy road as formerly had. again to be affronted. At one o'clock we halted in a sheltered place, and, tying our horses to projecting rocks, waited till Jean prepared dinner. — 129 — us, At two o'clock we were once more en routc^ replenished and refreshed. Up steep mountains, down perilous ravines, now suspended between heaven and earth as the steed balanced himself on a dos d'dnc^ where a single faux-pas would have hurled horse and rider a thousand feet into the yawning abyss, — and, all this time, not the shelter of a tree nor the ruffle of a breeze to temper the fierce meridian heat. At length we came to the torrent of Gedron, which had made its way through the ravines all along from the valley of Josaphat. But one would say that it has caught the spirit of the scene as it wended its way through the desert. From being a gentle little stream, rolling between mossy banks yonder, it has become a fierce moun- tain-torrent, encased in rocky shores of two hundred feet in height. We crossed its dried-up channel, and ascended the opposite side by a very good road which the monks have cut in the hard rock for the benefit of pilgrims. It wound around the mountain in a zig-zag fashion for twenty minutes ; and when we turned the last angle we came in sight of the convent, actually built on the steep sides of the cliff, and surrounded by massive stone walls. A little beyond we descried our tents, and by the smoke of the camp-fires we knew that supper was ready, or nearly so. It was just half-past five as we alighted from our horses. The convent, which is inhabited by schismatic monks, is built, as I said, on the sloping sides of the mouitain. A palm-tree, which is as near as possible to the walls of the building, was planted by St. Sabas himself, in the early ages of Chris- tianity, and is, of course, much venerated by the monks as an interesting relic of their founder. He, however, was a good Catholic, whilst they have embraced the errors of Photius ; and it is sad to think that their penitential life is not consoled and ' V, •-■ •. •". , - ,. 'I' — 130 — : r* ; ' ^m- 1 • ?i!ij' I I ''^-'■ ' M vivified by union with tlio true fount from whence flow grace and merit. Having been furnished with a « pass » from the Greek Patriarch before we left Jerusalem, we were enabled to visit the interior of the convent. Tliere arc several chapels and oratories, highly ornamented ; pictures of tlie Blessed Virgin and Child recur very often. The tomb and cell of St. Sabas are in the lower tier of buildings, though the saint's body is, I believe, in St. Mark's church at Venice. On the opposite side of the cliff are the cells formerly inhabited by Catholic monks, but who were all massacred in the Gth century by Chosroes, king of Persia. After a short visit v/e returned to our tents, where we supped, chatted, and went to bed. ■ >• ' ' Bethlehem, 5;/i /anuar^/. This morning we were again in the saddle at half- past seven. The road was a repetition of wh^tlhave already described till aboutteno'clock,when wecame in sight of Bethlehem. The ground here becomes less broken and more level ; a gentle declivity leads into a fertile valley running from east to west, and planted with corn and olive-trees. At the end of this, and rising on an eminence, stand the white- washed, flat-roofed houses of Ephrata (the House of Bread), or Bethlehem, the birth-place of Jesus. The shepherds were on the hill-sides tending their flocks, or stretched in grottoes, just as they must have been on the night when the Angels brought them the « good tidings of great joy.)) You would have almost said that nothing had been changed since then. The costumes w«re antique and strictly eastern ; I saw several little children with crooks, and dressed in the same manner as the personifica- tions of St. John the Baptist on the Canadian national feast in Quebec ; the women were dressed *. -.131- in red tunics and blue cloaks, such as you see in pictures of the Blessed Virgin ; in a word, every- thing appeared to have remained stationary, as if to impress with greater vivacity on tlio pilgrim's mind tlio great souvenirs from which he had come to seek piety and consolation. At eleven o'clock we arrived at the Franciscan convent, and were received by the good monks with their usual open-hearted hospitality. As you may easily imagine, we hurried imme- diately to visit the grotto of the Nativity and humbly kiss the sacred spot where « The Word was made flesh.)) We knelt in lowly adoration, and wept tears of joy in this holy sanctuary. There I thanked God and the Blessed Virgin for the immense favour of being enabled to make this consoling pilgrimage, and promised that my life would henceforth be an act of gratitude for such a privilege. At twelve o'clock we were called to dinner, ana found a numerous company already seated around the table from various parts of the world. The Austrian consul — Count Something — sat at the head ; a Prussian baron Somebody sat at one side of him, and a French countess at the other. There were a Pole and an Austrian, with whom we had previously become acquainted, two Greek ladies in full Bloomer costume, and some others. All passed off- very pleasantly. It was arranged that we should say our masses at seven, eight, nine, and ten o'clock. I chose 9 o'clock, so that at that hour — corresponding, 1 think, to five or six o'clock a. y. in Canada — I shall have the glorious privilege of offering up the Holy Sacrifice in the stable of Bethlehem, and that on the Feast of the Epiphany. I was so tired, after my long ride, that I remained in my room all day, looking through my window at the busy crowd on the square opposite. There ''^ ■.' ^ • A ■!■« ■■■] ■ ' 'V. -V^" m4' . ^^ ■:-'■ mmP' m m iy' — 132 — are a great number of Greek pilgrims from all parts. I witnessed the processional entry of the Greek Patriarch into town this evening. He bore a crozier in one hand, and in the other a little silver cross, with which he distributed blessings right and left. There were a great many priests dressed in flame- coloured cassocks, singers in yellow copes and banner- bearers in long surplices. Clouds of incense rose up around him, and flowers were strewed along the way. Though it is only half-past eight p. m., my com- panions are all in bed, and Mr. A. is snoring as if he never more intended to awake. , ,. ' ,- Mediterranean Sea, 2 15^ /a??.urt?'?/. (1) My dear St. C, I , ; 1 We remained three days in Bethlehem, and visited thoroughly all its interesting places, the shepherds' grotto, the house of Joseph, the grotto o[ milk, tkc. We then went to St. John's in the desert. T said holy mass on the spot where St. John the Baptist was born. The next day I said mass in the chapel of the Magnificat — that is to say, where the Magnificat was first sung by the Blessed Virgin. I saw the rock from which St. John the Baptist preached, the grotto in which he did penance, the tomb of St. Elizabeth, and the fountain whence the Blessed Vir- gin used to draw water for the household uses of her cousin. . J. (^) Wc have foiuicl nothing in Mr. Doherty's papers from tlic 6th to the 31st January. He contents himself, in this letter dated frem the sea, with rapidly noting down the principal •vents of his sojourn in the Holy Land. We have then to follow him back again to E,«uie, from which place he wrote many moat interesting pages, Li" \ — 133 — »'i.«* We remained here two days, and then returned to Jerusalem on foot, in order to follow, if possible, the footsteps of Mary in her journey through those self-same monntains. We passed the next fortnight visiting the sights in and around the Holy City, drinking in the inspi- rations they lend the Christian soul, and trying to strengtlien our love for Jesus on those hallowed spots where He deigned to suffer so much for us. I need not tell you that the traditions which fix and determine those spots are most authentic. They have been handed down through ages, and are venerated by every sect and every rite ; even the Mussulmans loolv on them with respect. Therefore, not the slightest doubt can be raised as to their cor- rect location ; so that the cavilings of some infidel writers are quite silly and without the sliglitest foundation. • This said, I will just mention some of the places I saw, leaving to your imagination the task of pic- turing to itself what feelings of awe, veneration, and profound contrition fill the heart when we ap- proach them. I slept two nights in the church of the Holy Se- pulchre, and said mass the first morning in the Holy Sepulchre itself, and the next on Mount Gal- vary. I made the way of the cross several times in the early morning, following in the footsteps of Jesus, passing through the same streets. To my mind, the most affecting place of all is the corner of the two streets where Mary met her Divine Son. It is called the Fourth Station^ and is in sight of the house of Dive^ the rich ma/i mentioned in the Gospel. I saw and kissed the footprint that Jesus left on Mount Olivet at the moment of His ascension into Heaven ; and the next morning I said mass on the spot where He taught the Lord's prayer. This little I- :.^ 134 — mi i^ hi n-'J '1* . I'.n Jj!pl f chapel was raised by the Princess de la t'our d'Au- vergne, who resides on the mountain. A little far- ther on is the well where the Apostles composed the Creed, previous to their separation. Then comes the spot where Christ wept over Jerusalem. All these beautiful souvenirs are on Mount Olivet, from the summit of w^hicli there is a splendid view of Jerusalem and of the valley of Josaphat. Below the mountain, directly at its foot, is the garden of Geth- semani, in which still grow some of the olive-trees beneath which He prayed. Here, too, is the place where Judas gave Him the kiss of treason ; here is the rock where the disciples slept while He went further on to pray. Here is the grotto of the bloody sweat; and in it 1 said mass with greater emotion, I think, than any where else. But I find I must stop, dear C. ; the weather has got very stormy, and the vessel is rolling from side to side. My only consolation, therefore, is that I have taken notes (i) of all the places I saw, and will be able to tell you all about them. . Rome, Tuesday^ Slh February^ iSlO. We arrived from Naples on Tuesday evening. I found quite a number of letters from home. Read every one of them, from end to end, before I blew out my candle at 2 o'clock in the morning. What a beautiful ihiug home is! How pleasing to know that thousands of miles away there are hearts that beat in unison with your own ! **To think that some dear one is sighing, , ' - And saying : ' I wish he were hero ! ' " ■ ' God help those that have neither friend nor home ! they are deprived of one of the holiest, purest, and deepest sources of joy that sends its thrill through ( ' ) What has become of these notes, and how considerable they were, wo do not know. — 135 IS inie ! and lUgh liable the soul. And may the Almighty bless yon, dearest sisters and kind friends, whose warm love and affectionate words have caused me such happiness this night. ■■. Wednesday. — We sat for our portraits this morning in full travelUng-({rig.)) 1 weHt to see His Grace the Archbishop before allowing the rutliless hand of the barber to raze my tufted chin. I fancied I would create an impression ; but he merely laughed at me, and said that it was a very poor two-months' growth. This from any one else I would attribute to jealousy ; but from the Archbishop I — really, 1 cannot explain it. Wrote letters from twelve to four. Went for a walk. Wandered across the Tiber, and got as far as the summit of the Janicu- lum. A church stands on the brow of the hill, on the spot where St. Peter was crucified. The view of Rome is splendid from this point. To the west are the snow-clad Apennines ; to the norlli stretches far away the rich Gampagna of Rome, intersected by aqueducts older than Christianity. Here and there are princely villas and stately churches. The glisten- ing Tiber rolls its rapid stream through the city and loses itself among the green hills yonder. I can see the place where A. Martins built th3 famous wooden bridge, 600 years before Ghrist. And Rome itself is at my feet — Rome ! once the despotic mistress of nations, now the centre of civili- zation, and still potent in the authority she holds from Ghrist. I can count 13 cupolas ; and above them all, like some protecting genius, soars the mighty dome of St. Peter's. What great changes have taken place since the inverted cross of the Prince of the Apostles was first planted on this spot I Peter's cross w^is sunk in derision and ignominy ; it now stands upright and glorious on the highest pinnacle of the most superb edifice raised by the hands of men. Peter stoo:\ here, alone of his faith. > •".. ,L"v* •■'>. '■■v^.'^ 1 ■; j 1, 1 - • ' ' ,'■ ■\\ V J) tvr ll ? §•'• i'i ■• ^^M^ 4. ; » * — 136 — His only attendants were the fierce executioners and the satellites of the pagan emperor who had issued his death-warrant. To-day, while the forum is in ruins, and Nero's palace is deserted, the successor of Peter reigns triumphant. He is surrounded, not by enemies, but by his fellow-labourers in the Lord's vineyard. At his call they have come from the eartli's extremities, in obedience to his voice, to prove that Peter's faith is in their hearts, — to shew that Peter's authority is recognized throughout the universe, — to make it manifest that the cross of Peter has triumphed. The monument commemorative of the Council has been very appropriately placed on this spot. It is now in course of construction. And, oh ! it is consoling to know and feel that the great assembly will outlive in effect this monument, though strong and solid. Its enactments will be in vigour, its canons respected, even when the marble column will have crumbled into dust, — aye I even to the end of time. The 3un was just sinking to rest, and the air was soft and balmy. I was loth to leave this beautiful place ; but, alas ! the supper-hour had come, and at its imperative call I turned my steps homewards, mingling with the thoughts of Rome and its wonders the thought of friends to whom I might one day be able to give an imperfect account of all I saw and heard. Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, we chiefly spent in letter-writing, receiving and paying visits, and the thousand little et-cxteras that sometimes steal away your whole day without your knowing at the end of it what you have done or where you have been. On Sunday I went to hear Mgr. Mermillod preach to the Zouaves in the church of St. John the Baptist. The church was crowded with gray coats and white leggings. I love to see those noble fellows — 137 — '

altar, and liear their manly voices unite in the chaunt of the Tan- tum Ergo^ or some simple hymn to the Blessed Virgin which we used to sing together at the com- munity-mass in college. The clanking of their sabres on the marble pavement reminds one that while they fortify their souls with the nourishment of prayer, their right arms are ready to defend the good cause. Indeed, it is most edifying to see those dear Zouaves in the Holy City. You cannot enter any church, whether morning or evening, without meeting some of them in the performance of their religious duties ; and, believe me, if the trumpet of battle sounded, they would prove again, as at Men- tana, that piety and true courage go hand-in-hand. On Monday several of us went on an excursion to Monte Rotondo and Mentana, the scene of the late combat between the Pontifical army and the hordes of Garibaldi. We came by rail to Monte Ro- tondo, and returned to Rome in a carriage through the little town of Mentana. This was going over the battle-field backwards ; so, my dear Christine, to give you a better idea of the brilliant affair, I will begin by the end of the journey, which will allow you all the better to follow the movements of the day. On the night of the 2nd November news came to Rome that Garibaldi had crossed the frontier and occupied Monte Rotondo. He was, therefore, within four hours' march of the capital, and it became urgent to meet him at once. The drums beat to arms in the dead of night ; the troops were collected, and at two o'clock in the morning they left Rome by the gate called Porta Pia. After leaving the city the road winds for some time through the splendid villas of the Roman patricians. A range of heights are then gained, and, after crossing the Tiber on a huge stone bridge, you enjoy a wide prospect of the environing country. Away to the right rises Monte .■H W- . w ft it [f j>j« — 138- Mario, where Constantine defeated the tyrant Ma- xentius ; directly in front are the hills that hide the foe; behind is Rome, faintly seen through the grey light of the breaking day. Many were the eyes, I am sure, that turned backwards to gaze on the cupola of St. Peter's ; and many, alas! saw it there lor the last time. ; .•. - ;,; ; After three hours' march the advance-guard engaged the enemy, who lay in ambush behind a long range of brushwood. The Zouaves were imme- diately deployed as skirmishers, and they were not long clearing the road for the rest of the troops, who came on in close order. A convent and church were next taken by storm : it was here that the two Canadian Zouaves fell wounded, and the Garibal- dians retreated to the town, where they intrenched themselves behind the stone walls of the houses. But the blood of the Zouaves was up ; they were enraged at the cowardly manoBuvres of an enemy who declined to meet them on a fair field ; the town was surrounded on all sides ; the order to charge with the bayonet was given, and a most murderous conflict ensued. The Pope's soldiers dashed at the barriers, up the steep hill, through the streets, and into the houses, where they massacred all those that resisted them. In an hour's time after the assault all the Garibaldians had fled or Lay weltering in their blood. The order was given to push on to Monte Rotondo, whither Garibaldi had retreated ; the place was taken after a short struggle ; and the general, who had loudly proclaimed that he should have "Rome or death, " was in the advance-guard of the fugitives over the border. ' The churches had been fearfully desecrated during the short stay of . the revolutionists : the tableaux were turn down, the statues of the saints mutilated, the altars overturned, and, in some cases, the sacred host trampled under foot. I saw one of — 139 — Ihoso churckes in Mentana, which is still in the state they left it, and it almost made my heart turn sick. In Monte Rotondo I said mass in the church into which Garibaldi had entered on horseback. I olTered up the Divine Victim in reparation for the blasphemies and outrages that had been committed in the sacred edifice. I spent a very pleasant evening with Bishop Horan and Mr. McCarthy at their rooms in Santa Ghiara. Tuesday. — Nothing worthy of note. Wednesday. — A few Canadians left for Canada. We accompanied them to the railway-station, and asaw them off.)) On our way home we had the happiness of seeing Pius the Minth on his way to open the ((Grande Exposition des objets d'art Chretien. )) The whole Roman court was present, with the greatest part of the Fathers of the Council. It was a very grand sight. I got a full-faced view of the Holy Father, as he was turned to our side of the carriage at the time it passed us. Of course we joined in the lusty cheering. . :; On Thursday I went to pay a visit to the Arch- bishop of Tuam. I read to him the part of Mr. W.'s letter relating to him. He was quite pleased. His conversation is quite sans ceremonie^ pleasant and fatherly. He invited me to call on hmi often, and promised me his portrait. On Friday, after saying mass in St. Andrea delle Fratti, the church in which the Blessed Virgin appeared to M. Ratisbonne, I went to the Propa- ganda to ask Mgr. Simeoni if he would obtain an audience for us from the Holy Father. He very kindly consented, and told us to be ready for Sun- day evening, t ,»? Saturday. — Nothing very important. The carnival began to-day. io noi uv Sunday. — I have just come from the private au- dience with the Holy Father. You may be sure ;■ > ■'M • f - -^ — 140 — h I' that we are all overjoyed. I will give you all the details in Wednesday's letter. It is one of the hap- piest days of my life. No wonder that all those that see Pius the Ninth love and venerate him. He has the heart of a father, and evidently loves all his children. ' The carnival commenced on Saturday, and was continued to-day, Monday, throughout the whole length of the Corso. The shops are closed, and the people are all in holiday attire. In the aforemen- tioned place the balconies are crowded with English, French and Americans, who shower down small round lumps of flour, called confetti^ on the passers- by. These latter, a good many of whom wear fan- tastical dresses, attack their assailants, and a regular combat takes place. The two parties are soon com- pletely whitewashed. The ceremony opened on Saturday by the booming of cannons and a very gorgeous procession of the senate and military from the Piazza del Popolo, at the entrance of Rome, to the Capitol, and each day's amusement ends with a race of riderless horses. It will close on the Tues- day of next week. The amusement begins at three o'clock and ends at six. It is exclusively confined to the Corso. I visited to-day the churches of St. Mary Major and St. John of Lateran. They are noble edifices. In the former is the Manger of Bethlehem, and in the latter the Holy Staircase brought from Jerusalem. I came home by the Coliseum and the Capitol. Tuesday. — ^This morning I went with two friends on an excursion. We reached the Capitol by the Piazza di Venezia, and, mounting by a staircase of 128 stone steps, we found ourselves at the door of the church of Ara Ccelij belonging to the Franciscan monks. It is said that the pagan Emperor Augustus had a vision of the Blessed Virgin and child Jesus, in consequence of which he raised an edifice or .'.5;; — 141 temple in honour of the ((Unknown God.)) St. Helena built a temple in the same place, and lies buried in a beautiful tomb surmounted by a noble altar and baldaquin near the Grand Altar. There are 24 altars in the church. A double rpw of columns reigns on each side of the middle nave. They al*e all ancient, and of different orders of architecture. Some of them belonged formerly to the temple of ((Jupiter the Thunderer.)) In the sacristy is the Bambino^ a wooden statue of the Infant Jesus, which was made by a monk in Jeru- salem, and miraculously transported to Rome. It is very richly dressed, and all covered over with pre- cious stones. It has its cradle and coverlets, which, together with itself, are all under lock and key in the Treasury. There have been several very sur- prising miracles performed in favour of those who honour it. When a ^ ck person sends for it, it is convayed to the house in a handsome carriage ; a stole is thrown half-way out of the window, so as to let the Romans know of its passage. They inva- riably uncover themselves, as a mark of respect, as it passes by. We next went to the church of St. Martina, a Roman lady of noble family, who suffered martyrdom during the reign of Diocletianus. The church is very beautiful ; a remarkable statue of the saint, in marble, is placed directly over the front altar. To the right is the Forum Romanum^ one of the most interesting ruins in Rome. It was here that the people used to assemble to deliberate, to hear the orators who addressed them, and to vote on the destinies of nation?. Here stand the remains of the rostrum from which Cicero pleaded so elo- quently. Here is the Sacred Way^ which the trium- phant generals crossed so often on their way to the Capitol. All around stand decaying columns of temples, grand and sumptuous, now awaiting the last stroke of time to crumble into dust. ■^";.> •4 .J NCI*'?.; — 142 j 1 — From St. Martina's church wo went to that of St. Frances the Roman, passing by the temple, — the actual temple of Romulus and Remus, erected 2600 years ago, now dedicated to SS. Gosmus and Damian. St. Frances's is built on the spot where Simon, the magician wished to imitate the Saviour and outdo the Apostles by publicly ascending into heaven. St. Peter was present among the crowd that came to witness the spectacle. He prayed that God might reveal the imposture, and his prayer was heard ; for when Simon had reached a certain height, he fell to the ground and was instantly killed. The rock on which St. Peter prayed is still preserved in the church : it bears the impress of his two knees. The church is now undergoing repairs. As you already know, St. Frances used to see her Angel Guardian : this fact is represented in a beau- tiful marble-group under the altar. •:!'!.■ .. • i From this we went to the Coliseum, passing under the triumphal arch raised byTilus as a remem- brance of the taking of Jerusalem. To this day the Jews will not pass under it. When business or pleasure takes them this way, they take a circuitous route on one side of the trophy. The Coliseum is an immense amphitheatre. It used to contain at least 100,000 persons, and many a holy martyr here found death and victory. The stations of the Cross are placed around it; and every Friday they are publicly performed in the presence and with the accompaniment of vast numbers. So much has been said of the Coliseum and the reflections it inspires, that I will refrain from repeating what, I am sure, you have already read. ^ui From the Coliseum we turned to the righl, and after twenty minutes' walk had arrived at the church of St. John of Laterau. It was here that Gonstantine was baptized ; here several councils were held ; here, too, the Popes lived for some time. '3^:> — 148 — and the that ncils if I mistake not. Hero, in an adjoining church also, is the Holy Staircase — that is, the staircase belonging to Pilate's Palace. Jesus mounted it four times during -His passion, and it has still marks of His Precious Blood. We mounted it, with man^ other pilgrims, on our knees, praying at each step. I then went to the ohurcli of the « Holy Gross, » beyond St. John's gate. You perceive on your way the ruins of the Roman aqueducts, ivy-crowned and time-worn, but still strong. The church is very fine. The relics, especially, are numerous and pre- cious. I venerated a large piece of the True Cross and the traverse-beam of the cross belonging to the Good Thief; one of the nails that pierced our Saviour's hand ; a finger of St. Thomas ; and many others. I also saw the inscription that was placed on the Gross of Our Saviour — I. N. R. 1. There is also a chapel, called the Ghapel of St. Helena ; the earth underneatli the marble floor is hoUj earth, having been brought from Mount Gal- vary by the orders of St. Helena. I do not know why women are excluded from this place, but it is a fact. A written placard forbids them to cross the threshold, under pain of excommunication, except once a year. Returning home, I again visited «St. Mary Major.w This is a miraculous church, and is richer than any other in Rome, I think, except St. Peter's. The Manger of Bethlehem is kept in the Confession; I had the happiness of venerating it. My road then lay by the Quirinal, a former palace of the Popes : I had already visited it before. It was here that Pius the Ninth lived before the revolution of 1848. I saw the room from which he fled in the dress of a Priest. I saw the gate through which Ife passed. Both are now historic. We had a very grand Italian dinner on the occa- sion of our hostess's feast-day, la Signora Margarita. ■r '%>: .f'. f ^. Jr." $ Two bisliops were present, and a number of priests and laymen. There were toasts to no end, and, at least, six diiYerent sorts of wine. Wednesday. — ^This is letter-day. I consecrated it to remembrances of home and absent friends. -I, how- ever, had time to pay a visit to llie Gcsu. The altar of St. Ignatius exceeds all description. Gold, silver, and precious marbles are here in profusion. It is said that the chapel of the saint alone is worth more than $1, 000,000 ! Thursday. — I said mass this morning in the church of St. Agnes, the sweet little saint whom Cardinal Wiseman popularized throughout Europe in his Fabiola. The church is built on the scene of her martyrdom ; it is a rotunda. Beneath the high altar is the crypt — that is, the room where she snfTered. I shall say mass there to-morrow- The Prince Doria is the patron of the church. A gratuitous school is attached to it. ....>.*' This is a dreary, cold, rainy day ; so that, with the exception of a visit to the Archbishop, I have been house-ridden all day long, — 07'^ que faire en un gitc, a moins que Von ne songe ; and where could a better place for thought be found than in Rome ? Some one called Rome « the city of the soul,)) and there is no metaphor in the expression. It is, indeed, a place of benediction ; it is a city where man does not appear entirely to forget his God and the thing neces- sary, — where religion is held ir ' i*, and where all ideas of devotion are not ai other places, jostled out of every-day life. ^ have seen many great centres of population ; I have visited many cities both in the new and the old world ; and in each and every one of them, as a priest, I have been pain- fully struck by the exclusion of spiritualities mani- fest in them. I saw magnificent rows of buildings, manufactories, warehouses, stores and palaces ; splendid squares adorned with fountains, trees, and -". — 145 — the statues of great men. Everywhere people ap- peared ahsorbcd in affairs; every cine wasbusy ; every brain was ti3eming with Ihonglit; every energy was put forth. I listened to their conversation : they spoke of commercial interests, of agricultural interests, of bank stocks and rates, of politics, of ministerial or dynastic changes; but I never heard the name of God pronounced, except in blasphemy. I went to the churches, and they were almost empty: some women, a few old men, and little children, were, in most cases, their only occupants. The thousands, nay, the millions outside lived, moved, and breathed in an element far removed from religion^ Influences. One might have said that the Deity of those vast reunions was aan unknown God.)) Nor was the spirit of indifference the only nor the worst side of the picture. Around about me and on all sides were allurements to vice : the statues were often lewd ; the images in the windows, exposed for sale, were often infamous ; the walls were pla- carded with invitations to theatres, where vice was promenaded and held up amid the most gorgeous decorations every night, &tc. :. • In Rome it is not so. There may be, there is, wickedness in Rome ; and there ever was and ever will be wickedness wherever men are congregated. But it is held in check ; it is less flaunting; it has no official, or, at least, no universal sanction here as elsewhere. On the other hand, the numerous churches, confraternities, religious orders, and phi- lanthropic associations, while they give a religious colour to society, are so many incentives to virtue, so many means easy and open to all to serve God. And these act on society ; they possess their influences ; people are not ashamed here to be seen in the church ; they can afford a half an hour to hear mass; they come to the sermons that are given; Ihey attend the devotional exercises ; — in a word, ^ . ' 7 -■ '-'i.'Hi :r 146 — w ■•' i - they are more religious, more devout, more God- fearing, and hence better, wiser, and happier here than I have seen them in other cities. They may have less riches ; they are certainly not so well clad as in Paris or London ; the voice of trade, of com- merce, &c., is not so loud as in those great marts ; but what does that prove in favour of real happiness? Nothing. Yon will understand that I do not mean to say that there is no good^ no examples of piet; , in the great cities to which I have alluded. This would be not only an exaggeration, but a falsity. In Paris itself, where there are so many wicked things said and done, I saw the churches filled with pious, prayerful people ; the crowds that assisted morning and evening at the devotional exercises held in the sweet little church of « Notre-Dame-des-Victoires » were edifying in the extreme. In Alexandria, where vice, in its most degrading forms, reigns supreme, I was happy to find the Jubilee well attended. Even in Chicago, the number and beauty of the churches, as I saw them some years ago, struck me with admi- ration ; while in New-York I had seen the Irish con- gregations, there as elsewhere, faithful to iheir God and attentive to their religious duties. No I there is a mixture of good and bad every- where. But what I do affirm, from the observations I have been able to make, is, that in Rome the love of Cod is publicly, and, I might say, officially incul- cated : religion is a state affair, and, receiving the high sanction of authority, its action on the masses is more powerful ; while in other places its progress is entirely left depending on individual action. The shadow of indifferentism is thrown over it; and, not unfrequently, sarcasm and ridicule are the public rewards of those who take the side of God. Friday. — I said mass this morning in the church of St. Agnes, but this time in the subterranean A.^'. — 147 — chapel — that is, in the very room where the dear little saint suffered martyrdom. I prayed to God, dear' St. C, through her intercession, that as she was miraculously preserved from material fire, so you and I might be ever preserved from the fire of worldly passions, and be worthy of our religious vocation. The devotions of the forty hours began to-day in the church of St. Lawrence in Damaso. The Pope was expected to come, so that there was a crowd near the entrance of the church ; but he did not arrive ; so, all we got was a good drenching in the rain. We went to spend the evening with Messeigneurs Langevin and Lafleche, and remained until after nine o'clock. ' Saturday^ '21th February. — This morning I went to « St. Lawrence in Damaso.)) The Blessed Sacrament was exposed. The sweet Saviour had remained on the altar all night ; and how many blessings had He not imparted on the city and its inhabitants while they slept !— blessings of comfort on the poor and the disconsolate ; blessings of peace shed in the midst of families; blessings of mercy on the sinner who had, perhaps, passed the hours of night in offending Him ! And here He still remained, silent and boun- teous, listening to the petitions that the kneeling crowds were offering up to Him, forestalling all their wishes, and giving them graces even a hundred- fold more than they even dared to ask for. Oh I if w^e but reflected on the goodness of Jesus under the veils of the Eucharist, how our hsarts would burn with divine love ! In the evening I went to visit St. Peters. It was not, of course, the first nor second visit, nor will it, 1 hope, be the last ; for, besides devotional purposes, the great cathedral offers artistic beauties which it would take months and months to study. Tlie \. .v;i f — 148^ chief characteristic of St. Peter's, and the greatest triumph of the artist, lies, I think, in the exactness of its proportions. The details, whether of statuary, of painting, or of other ornamentation, are so nicely measured with the whole, that on your first entrance you are not struck by its immensity. It is only when you come to examine the height and breadth of each supporting-column, the hugeness of each statue, that the colossal dimensions of the building are revealed to you ; and the more yc i examine, the more you are astonished and confounded. And this, if I may say so, almost gives a divine stamp to the work. Take the world, for instance, — the work of God's power. To a casual observer it presents no- thing beyond a general fitness, a certain mark of beauty; but to him v/ho examines the details, the variety, the perfection of each object, from the huge proportions of the largest animal to the admirable organization of the smallest insect, it will appear that none but a God of infinite power could have compassed it. So it is, on an infinitely smaller scale, if you will, with the Church of St. Peter. From the cupola, with its walls 22 feet thick, poised in mid-air at the height of more than 200 feet, to the little angels that hold the cup of holy-water at the door, all is perfect, without the slightest defect ; and hence, all proves that he who conceived and exe- cuted this mighty work of art must have been the greatest artist that the world ever possessed. 1 saw the beautiful statue of St. Angela standing aloft, in the second row of niches, at the entrance of the side-chapel to the left; and I prayed that through her intercession all her daughters might be her imitators in this world and the participants of her glory in the next. As we left St. Peter's, the Pope's carriage was ju«t passing through the Piazza ; from all sides people ran to meet it, and dropped on their knees to receive the blessing of their King and — 149 — Father. If all the kings who rule nations were thus loved and venerated,— if all held the balance of jus- tice equally poised,— if all administered to the wants of their subjects with as much mildness and pater- nal care, they would not want so many guards to surround their palaces nor uphold their authority. Alas that it is not so ! Sunday^ 2Sth. — There was an exposition of the B. Sacrament in the church of the Gesu. This magni- ficent temple, one of the richest in Rome, belongs to the Jesuits. I told you before, T think, something of its richness. There were not less than 3000 lights burning on the altar and around it; the Sacred Host was placed high above the tabernacle, so that it appeared as if the stream of brilliancy all came from it. There were 26 cardinals at mass, and a number of bishops. The singing was very fine. I have seen Jesuit churches poor and almost empty; but here in Rome resides the royal splendour of their order ; and it is right that they should triumph here, for they have ever been, since their foundation, the firmest props, humanly speaking, of Rome and the Papal throne. Yet, this grandeur is confined to the church itself: the cells of the Fathers are as simple and as unadorned as your own. Monday^ \st March. — I went yesterday to pay my first visit to the Ursulines, who have their convent in a small lane ofi" the Corso, called Vicolo Vittoria, No. 13. Not being able to have an interview, as it was then vesper-hour, I returned to day, and had quite a long conversation with Mother Margarita Teresa. I passed the afternoon in a balcony on the Corso, viewing the pleasures of the carnival. As the end of the Santissimo Carnevale draws near, the m_erriment becomes faster and more furious. The whole line of the street is thronged with spectators and masque- raders. The balconies are elegantly dressed out in ^r »r" ' ':1^: .'■''^U 150 — ' .V: f: red, white, and gold ; they are crowded with male aud female representatives of every nationality. The costumes are of every shade, from the hideous and grotesque to the handsome and refined : there are walking-fishes and horned animals ; troubadours and mailed knights ; Roman peasants, niggers, domi- noes, and what not? The great business of the day is to throw little paste-balls at your neighbour. Fierce combats take place between the passers-by and the persons in the balconies. The gallants throw bouquets of flowers at the ladies, and the ladies throw bouquets at the gallants. The amusement begins at 3 o'clock, and continues until the Ave-Maria. A troop of dragoons then dash through the streets to citear the way, and in a quarter of an hour after, seven or eight horses without riders are let loose at the Piazza del Popolo, and come galloping up, amid the shouts of the people, as far as the Piazza di Venezia ; here they are stopped by immense blankets stretched across the street. The victorious horse immediately becomes a hero, and is promenaded through the city accom- panied by drums and fifes playing lively airs. Such IS the Carnival, an institution so dear to the Romans that to attempt to stop it would be to create a revo- lution in the whole kingdom. To-morrow is the last day. Tuesday^ 2nd March. — The Carnival closed this evening, or, rather, it will close at 12 o'clock to-night. The Gorso was still more crowded today than ever, and the masqueraders in greater numbers. A little child was killed by one of the horses. At 6 o'clock the people came into the street with small tapers, and went about blowing out their neighbour's candle while they endeavoured to keep their own lighting. After dark the Corso was beautifullv illuminated, the effect being verygrand. As I write I can hear the singers prmoenading from place to place, serenad- Hi 151 7-f ' I 'I t ing their friends ; and, though the hour is far advanced, they do not appear to have the least idea of going to bed. I will set a good example to the city, and retire. Good-night ! Wednesday ^ 3rc?. — To-day all is silent, and people appear as sedate as Quakers. There was a grand eeremony in St. Peter's this morning. The Pope, the cardinals, and the bishops held chapel in the usual place. The Pope appears strong and young : his fine full voice resounds through the church during the solemn chant of the prayers. * Thursday^ Ath of March.— 1 made full use of my time to-day. We left the Corso this morning in the bishop's carriage, and went first lo the church of St. Maria del Popolo, near the gate of that name, and at the foot of the Pinch. It is built on 'he tomb of Nero. It was formerly a place haunted by apparitions. It w^is said that dismal sounds and groanings were often heard durmg the night among the ruins. To allay the fears of the people the temple w^as raised and given in care to the Augus- tinian monks. It was here that Luther said his last mass ! Ascending the Pincio, we drove along the beauti- ful road that conducts to the Quirinal ; and coming ■ to the Piazza di St. Isidoro, w^e stopped for some time to visit the Irish convent of Franciscans. This church and the convent attached to it are all full of souvenirs of Ireland ; and in visiting it the mind naturally goes back to the days when persecution obliged the good Fathers to llee from the Isle of Saints. Their love for fatherland did not decrease ; wherever they went, they brought the memories of Ireland wdth them, and worked strenuously to per- petuate her glories. To them are due the Annals of the Four Masters and the Irish Martyrology. There is a beautiful painting of St. Patrick in the church. The tomb of Curran's daughter is here, too ; if I do not V: !*• .y ■-■ k ■ :; t ■^ If ,.? ■; mistake, she was the celebrated poetess and beauty ■who was betrothed to Emmet, and whose reason fled when « her Emmet was no more.w From this we went to the church of the Concep- tion, which also belongs to the Franciscans. It is here that is preserved the body of St. Crispin. He died about a hundred years ago, and his body is as fresh as if he were still living. Beside the church is the cemetery where the bones of the dead brothers and fathers are symmetrically arranged in 6 chapels. There are arches, alcova columns, ornaments, and lamps, all made *bf the bones of the dead. Here and there are the skeletons of other fathers dressed in their religious garb—some sitting, others standing, and others in a reclining posture. On some of the skulls you still see portions of the skin and beard. All have little black crosses in their hands. The effect is not in the least hideous, though a sort of dread pervades you as you wander through those silent chapels, so full of the trophies of death. In the evening there was a station at St. George's church at the foot of Mount Palatine. All the relics were exposed to the veneration of the faithful. In Rome they call a Station an exposition of all the considerable relics in a church ; there is one in some church or other every day. I was glad to see a great many English Catholics in church during vespers. I venerated the relics of St. George ; they also shew a portion of his banner and the end of his lance. He was a Christian warrior who suffered martyrdom in the fourth century, I think. Here, too, are the relics of 1100 virgin-martyrs, relics of sweet St. Philomena, and of St. Sebastian. The sing- ing was very beautiful. The church is very old, many of the columns having belonged to pagan temples in times of old. After coming from St. George's I went to see the ruins of a triumphal arch dedicated to Janus, and — 153 t* I- belonging to the Augustan period ; then 1 visited the cloaca maxima — that is, the great sewer of Rome. It is still well preserved, though it dates as far back as the days of Tarquin the Proud, some 500 years before Christ. Quite near the filthy reservoir is a source of pure limpid water, called the silver spring. It is like virtue living in contact with vice pressing its native purity, and shewing with greater effect the hideousness of the latter. I then wandered into the palace of the Caesars, which covers Mount Palatine, and forms one of the largest ruins of Rome. It covers the whole mountain ; the arches, which rise to the height of 80 or 100 feet, are still wonderful in their decay. What must it have been when it was covered with the richest marble, adorned by statues, softened by the verdure of hanging-gardens, and cooled by the waters of a 1000 fountains! Here dwelt the masters of the world. From this place emanated the edicts that were rcs])ected from the shores of Britain to the Caspian sea. Here those proud emperors received from the ' sycophantic senate of degraded Rome the title of Divine. But the avenger since destroyed both the idols and their idolaters, and the ruins of to-day tell in mute eloquence of the emptiness of worldly pomp and greatness. It is the old story of the fall of pride. After supper, Mr. G. came in the bishop's carriage to take us to the « Baths of Caracalla.)) They were to be illuminated by Bengal lights^ and a representa- tion of an eruption of Mount Vesuvius was to ter- minate the performance. I fear you will think me exaggerated or imagina- tive when you hear me so often apply the epithets « immense,)) « grand, » ((magnificent,)) to the names of those palaces or buildings I am trying to describe. But, really, it is not so, dear St. C. 1 do not amplify in the least'; and, indeed, there is no want for high Y : i: — 154 !■'■ 'S> f-^l ^%. ■> 'iV C/- I'l 3-^ . v^ Jy ■*» > ■3 Ui' il ||. ►■ ^4 ^j^,'. k i| il' r- li III. • • t tf colouring in the description of any of the ruins of Rome. You will remember that all are the royal remains of a kingly people ; that Rome was the centre of iliat great em.pire which ruled the universe ; and that all those edifices were the conception and work of men who allowed themselves to be called DivinCj and who built to themselves houses, baths, palaces, and even tombs, in proportion to their newly- acquired dignity. This Guracalla, though one of the greatest mon- sters that the earth ever bore, was, nevertheless, voted a god ; and one of his endeavours to keep up the illusion resulted in the immense baths, the colossal ruins of which produce even a greater impression than those of the Coliseum. Let me give you an idea of their magnitude. Take the French Cathedral of Quebec ; cut away the pillars and gal- leries ; make of it one large rooni^ and you have just one of the 17 or 18 departments of tiie Termini. There were cold baths, and warm baths, and luke- warm baths ; there were libraries and conversation- rooms, dining-rooms and sleeping-apartments, etc., etc. The w^alls were adorned with the most precious marbles ; every article that comfort and luxury could invent here met the desires of the effete monarch and his court. In a word, considering himself a god, he naturally desired to possess a material Paradise, and, as far as every earthly pleasure can go, he succeeded. But here, as in the case of Caesar's Palace, the revolving years have changed this scene of .luxury into one of desolation. The huge carcass lays strand- ed on the shores of time, like the remains of some monster whitening on the sea-beach where the waves have left it. Its marble columns and coatings have disappeared, discovering the vulgar brick which had been disguised underneath the brilliant exterior ; the wind moans through the vast halls ; — 155 — bats and nocturnal birds glance fitfully through its broken angles : the cold, clear starlight looks in through its roofless domes and arched windows ; its former occupants, so powerful in their day, have crumbled into dust ; and in their place we stand, 3000 spectators, assembled from every quarter of the globe. And it appeared to me as if wo had come to exult over its fall and mark its disgrace, for the many-coloured fires that lit up each part in succes- sion only served to render its ruins and desolation more perceptible to all. The mimic eruption of Vesuvius, which closed the evening's entertainment, was something terrific. The ground actually trembled beneath the thunders of the explosions, and a feeling akin to awe hushed the voices of the thousands as the burning lava poured down the sides of the miniature volcano. What must the reality be ! During the intervals the military band discoursed sweet music. At about GJ o'clock the eruption burned itself out ; the Bengal fires died away, and the spec- tators poured out in a vast living stream into the dai kness of night to wend their way homewards, W'ell pleased at all they had seen. Friday^ hth March. — To-day I went to see the church of St. Gret'ory, where there was an exposi- tion of relics. I sav/ the hard bed on which this holv Pope used to pass a few short houi's of night in necessary repose, the marble chair in which he often sat, and some of his relics. There is here a miracu- lous image of the Blessed Virgin, which was carried through Rome at. the time of the great pest that desolated the city during the pontificate of Gregory. On the occasion of the i:)rocession, or, rather, towards its end, an angel appeared on the summit of Adrian's mole, sheathing a fiery sword, and the cala- mity ceased. It was then that the Regina Cceli Isetare was composed, and a commemorative statue of the » ■ -. f -% •' 1 '♦«.. i 4 ItM I i? ^'. "'• i' H-;' •i <•'! 1 I; r > « .• Ir^ _156 — angel was placed on the place of the apparition. It still stands on the highest pinnacle of the Castle of St. Angelo. It was St. Gregory who sent St. Angustin and his monks to England to convert that island ; and I was again happy to see a nnniber of EngHsh Catholics in the church, who were devoutly hearing Mass in honour of their benefactor. I united my prayer to theirs, and asked God, through the intercession of the saint, to grant the English nation a speedy return from the errors of heresy to the true fold of Christ. On my way home, I visited, in the little church of the B. Virgin near the forum, the image of the Holy Mother painted by St. Luke. It spoke to St. Mary of Egypt. It w^as formerly in the church of St. John the Baptist, on the banks of the Jordan, whence it was transported to Rome. In another chapel of the same church is an « Ecce Iiomo,» a bust of our Lord crowned with thorns. It is very expres- sive. The eyes of this statue moved in the year 1796. The miracle was witnessed by great numbers. Saturday. — I assisted to-day at the opening of the fortv-hours' devotion in the church of St. John and St. Paul, two noble Roman soldiers who suffered martyrdom under the impious Julian the apostate. The temple is built over the place where they suffered, on a rising ground a little beyond the Coliseum ; the spot where their heads were struck off is surrounded by an iron railing in the body of the church. This is where the Passionists live. The body of St. Paul, their founder, is still preserved under one of the altars ; it is as fresh as during the saint's lifetime. I saw it as it lay dressed out in the habit of the order. Sunday. — I assisted at three sermons to-day. The first was in the little church of St. John the Baptist. The preacher was Mgr. De Charbonnel, formerly of Toronto. He opened a retreat for the Zouaves pre- -157 — paratory to their going home. Next I went to St. Andrea dclla Vallc to hear M. Combalot, a fine old French priest, who, though 80 years of ago, preached with all the fire of youth. A laughable incident took place in church during the sermon. You may know already that there are no pews in the churches in Rome, nor, indeed, in any place that I have seen except in Canada. There are chairs standing against the walls of one of the chapels ; and any one who wishes to sit down may lake one, and go to the chapel or altar where ho wishes to pray. In the case of a sermon or grand-mass, those chairs are placed around the pulpit or in front of the altar at which the mass is said. One of the bishops who assisted at the sermon yesterday was seated on a little rickety chair right opposite the pulpit. He was a tall, stout man, weighing, I should say, about 200 pounds, at least. Having leaned a little back, the treacherous affair gave way, and down came poor Monseigneur on the broad of his back, right to the marble pavement; and there he lay for a few se- conds, trying to disengage himself from the ruins'. Of course, there was a crowd of priests around him in a moment, rery anxiously inquiring if his lordship was hurt, but yet quite unable to repress a smile at his ludicrous position. The poor man's only wound was that of his feelings ; and I assure you he was very much abashed, and blushed like a young maiden of 16. I pitied him sincerly ; and don't you think he was to be pitied ? Cctait une grandeur dcchue. I next went to St. Louis-des-Frangais to hear M. I'abbe Bugeau.d, the vicar-general of Mgr. Dupan- loup, and the author of the two beautiful works. La vie dc Ste. Chantal et celle de Sle. Monique. I had the pleasure of iDecoming slightly acquainted with M. Tabbe Darras, the author of the History of the Church. .v^/l■ it- **••■ '• . ; V- i: — 158-. • Monday. — I said mass tliis morning, dear C, in presence of a Criicifix which spoke to St. Philip Neri. I asked that it might to you and mo and all mankind, winning us all by sweet words of mercy to repentance for our sins. To-day being the feast of St. Thomas Aquinas, there was a grand ceremony in the church of the Dominicans, called the Minerva. There were twenty cardinals seated around the altar with their rich purple robes, fur capes, and crimson calottes ; at their feet were forty prelates, and in the church about GO more. Among them I distinguished Cardinal Bonaparte, and I took a good look at him, so that, if he ever becomes Pope, I can say that « I saw the Holy Father,)) without returning'^to Rome. In the evening there was an exposition of relics in the church called « St. Peter in Chains. )> Here are kept the identical chains with which the Prince of the Apostles was bound in prison. They were suspended over the high altar, exposed to the vene- ration of the faithful. Here also is the famous statue of Moses, by Michael Angelo. It is considered a masterpiece of sculpture. I saw here the ashes of the Machabees. After passing down the Capitol on our way home, we turned to the right a little below its base, and found ourselves, after a few mo- ments, at the door of the church of St. Mark. On the walls outside the portico are several inscriptions which have been extracted from the Catacombs and encrusted in the masonry. The Latin is not always choice ; sometim.es it is even barbarous ; but the sen- timents are beautiful in their Christian simplicity and resignation. Some of them run thus : « Here sleepeth Stephen for a short time.)) «Caius left us at the Lord's command, but we shall see him again.)) Another, the most touching, might be thus trans- lated into French : « Adieu ! au revoir dans le ciel.)) It was in this church that St. Dominic raised a dead child to life. The mother had come to one ot the ^Iv \^h. — 159 — saint's sermons, anJ un returning home slie found her little sou dead. She immediately carried him to the church, and, placing liim in the arms of St, Dominic, insisted on his being restored lo life. God rewarded her faith, through the holy man's inter- cession, and she went away rejoicing. On the Piazza, a few yards from the church, a bust of Minerva leans against the wall. It is seven feet high, and must have ence been beautiful. But, alas for th echarm of beauty I — they pass like a sha- dow. The poor goddess has her nose broken off; there is an ugly cut in her chin, and her left eye looks as if she had neen at a prize-fight, and came off second best. She once had her day, and, not knowing how to profit of it wisely, she has been set aside like many another belle. And to complete her degradation, she who once held the scales of Jus- tice is now condemned to hold an unsightly pole^ on which the Romans, who once knelt at her feet, now unconcernedly dry and bleach their linen. Sic transit gloria mundi ! Tuesday^ Slfi. — No letters as yet from Canada, the mails not having arrived. To-day I visited the « Ex- position of Objects of Christian Art,)) opened by the Pope two weeks ago. The grounds occupy a large part of the ruins of the Baths of Diocletian. I en- deavoured, the other day, to give you some idea of the size of the Baths of Caracalla ; that of Diocletian was still larger. It contained 1000 bathing-rooms, with libraries, schools, forums, gardens, fountains; in a word, it was the most magnificent work of Rome at a time when magnificence had outstripped all limits. In one part of it, and preserving its former struc- ture as much as possible, is the church of «St. Mary of the Angels.)) The columns that support the cupola are those which were employed in the baths, im- mense tapering monoliths that rise to the height of t ,t. ■ft"- », ;.■«■• J*.' ;•..(■; ^'^■. '^^ t-- ML k V' i H -' i :l' ': I if.. I lii If •-' i»«* s« — 160 — # 80 feet. A thought very naturally came to my mind while I was here. I will give you the benefit of it, such as it is. The baths of Caracalla have been left to themselves, and the mark of decay is sinking deeper into them day after day. The baths of Diocle- tian, on the contrary, having been converted into a church and monastery, have, as it were, arisen from their ruins, and are to-day as beautiful in marble and gold as when they were first finished. Is not this something like what happens in society? Society being a thing of human formation, its glory being the work of man, is naturally subject to the common fate ; no matter hov/ great the power, — no matter how finely it is propped up by the policy of its rulers and the numbers of its subjects, — it diminishes with time, falls into decrepitude, and disappears. But if religion sustain it, it leans on the arm of the Most High ; its hope is in heaven ; its strength comes from God ; and time, instead of destroying it, only gives it renewed vigour. But I am forgetting the Exposition, or, if you wish, the Exhibition. Everything that belongs to church service is here exposed. There are statues of the Blessed Virgin, in marble, composition, and bronze ; one among others is touching — it is the representation of the « Mother most admirable,)) with, oh I such a sweet counte- nance ! — one would almost say that the artist had a vision of our Lady. There are crucifixes of every size, model, and material ; statues of the saints ; those of St. Sabastian are the most expressive. Then come altars of the most exquisite workmanship and design ; tabernacles of Gothic and Greek architec- ture, resplendent with gold, silver, and precious stones ; bells, large and small, — chimes with such loving tones that you would think the angels were singing in the clouds. These, with a most valuable and interesting picture-gallery and chancels of ■p — i61 — stained glass, complete the outer gallery, and com- prise the joint works of all the Catholic countries of Europe. You then enter the middle galleries, a lengthy suite of tastefully-arranged apartments, where the eye is dazzled by the accumulated splendour : vest- ments of all descriptions and choir-habiliments ; chasubles, manuples, stoles, albs, surplices, dalma- tics, copes, birettas, mitres, tiaras, purple and black soutanes,— and all these according to the different rites, whether Latin, Greek, Armenian, or others ; chalices, patens, ciboriums, ostensories, and altar- fronts. It is hardly possible to conceive anything richer. The chalices and ostensories are beyond descrip- tion. I saw one of the latter, of the Gothic order, which stood eiglu feet high. It was a perfect temple. The twelve Apostles stand around tke Host on the uppart part. In a lower story are the four great Prophets, who stand around the B. Virgin. The base is of solid gold. There were beautiful missals and breviaries of all kinds. One of the missals was a work of the monks of the 13th century, and its illu- minated pages are almost as fresh and as brilliant as when it came forth from the hands of the recluse. How they must have prayed while performing their task, those dear old saints ! — you can see the mark of love and prayer on almost every letter. As I stood before this monument of ages flown, my mind wandered back to the time it was made. I fancied I could see the holy monk in his cell, Iv was one of those secluded monasteries, the ruins of which meet the eye of the traveller in Germany. The cell was poor to austerity — a little bed in one corner, a wooden chair, and on the table stood the ^'^ints of divers colours. Nothing releived the blank walls, save, perhaps, a crucifix and a statue of the B. Virgin, towards whicn the old man now and then raised ■if' :.," i '■"< '*-'■•■ . 'J.v m !' ,11 > . Ui\ ■ • ';♦•.; m 1 ■ 1 - I it''"*'*. '■iL 't '>■:' M< LS/^-t — 162 — his eyes in supplication, or to offer up his labour. And the rays of the setting sun, as they glanced through the high turret windows, played among the father's grey hairs, and seemed to cast a halo of glory around his revered head. And as the picture came out before me, I thought to myself how much happier was the monk, in his apparent obscurity, than many who, during his time^ w^ere surrounded by worldly honour and fame. His name was not attached to his w^ork ; no monument would per- petuate his memory ; his only vision of the future was a life of constant obedience ; and then the little wooden cross in the cemetery, when he would lay him down to rest among his brethren, aw^aiting the final summons. But then, God was watching him, and counting each letter that he illumined. He knew that a higher reward than any the world can give was aw^aiting his perseverance, and in this hope he lived content. And this explained the happy smile of inner joy that lit up his features. Each nation has its ow^n allotted quarter or region. There was one that bore the inscription, « Ingle terra.)) It was quite empty. The exhibitors had not yet had time to unpack their goods ; but the « empty case » of England appeared to me to be suggestive. Poor England 1 — there was a time when her name shone brightly in the annals of the church, — when her kings and queens merited a place among the cata- logues of the saints, — when her learned doctors and great writers were the glory and support of the Church of God ; then her works were many, and her deeds were deeds of justice and honour. But since the blight of heresy blackened her soil, her beauty has been sullied ; her voice is no longer heard in the vineyard among the workers ; the book of her mar- tyrology is closed ; no English saints glorify the pages of her history, save and except the chosen few whom her own homicidal hands slew in unholv n ' — 163 — « hatred to tlic just cause ; and, therefore, «her casd is empty.)) But, no 1 it is not so : a new and strong branch has grown up where the old trunk was cut down, and already appear rare and beautiful fruits and flowers. Her Wisemans, her Msinnings, her Spensers, her Fabers, and others, are wortly of their predecessors in the faith ; and in a few days, when «her case will be filled,)) it will be seen that the fruits of her zeal and industry in church-work are worthy of a high place among the competition. Wednesday^ 9//i. — This morning the carriage of Monseigneur Bourget (of Montreal) was w^aiting for another priest and myself at f he early hour of 5^ o'clock A.M. We all went together to the church of St. Fran(;oise Romaine to say mass. This being the feast of tlie saint, all the relics were exposed, and we gained a plenary indulgence by praying at the crypt I have already given you a description of the church : you may remember that the marks of St. Peters knees are preserved under iron bars at the side-altar. The body of St. Frances lies in state under the high altar in a subterranerfh chapel. She is dressed out in the costume of her order. The naked skull, with its grinning teeth, appears underneath the f/uimpe. This is done expressly to shew IheRoman ladies that beauty disappears after death, and that worldly pleasures are only of short duration. We breakfasted in the community-parlor, and received a picture from the superior. After dinner, MM. C, P. and I went on an excursion to Mount Aventine, where there are many curiosities to be seen. We passed by the « Cercle Canadien,)) to see if our letters had arrived ; and, to my great joy, I found awaiting me letters from Canada. I read them over and over going along the road, and was so absorbed in their perusal that I came well nigh running over a carriage and pair of horses. We went first to the Tiber to view the remains of the ■r;\i ■ r ■I . w — 164 — I tt f'. V 1 1 jf :, . bridge of Horatius Codes. You have read in Roman history that in the first days of the Republic a Roman soldier sustained the attack of the advancing enemy until the bridge was cut away by his country- men, when he jumped into the Tiber and swam across in safety. How we used to burn with martial ardour as we translated the account from the Latin, long, long ago, in class I Leaving the Tiber to our right, we came to an ancient temple of the Vestals, which is still in a good state of repair. We cro» an open square on which a company of Zouaves are drilling, and arrived at the church of St Maria in Cosmedin, which dates as far back as the 3rd cen- tury. St. Augustin taught here for some time. The image of the B. Virgin, which is over the altar, comes from Constantinople, and goes as far back as the days of the Iconoclasts in the 8th century. Underneath are catacombs, but the doors have been closed since five ecclesiastics perished in them some years ago. At the church-door is a large round marble slab, with a lion's headcut on it ; the mouth is wide open. It is called La boccd della verila. It was used as a swearing-machine in the days of Paganism. The witness or attestor placed his hand in the lion's mouth and gave his evidence ; he believed that if he spoke falsely the mouth would close and leave him handless. We next ascended Mount Avenline to visit the convent of the Dominicans, called St. Sabine. It was here that St. Pius the V. lived and died. I saw th * room from which his spirit ascended to heaven, and the miraculous crucifix which was his constant companion. In another part of the monastery is the cell in which St. Dominic dwelt for many years. In the garden we were shtwn the orange-tree which the saint planted with his own hands. While Pere Lacordaire was here, a branch sprung from the roots of the old tree, and is now — 165 — strong and vigorous. You know that the eloquent preacher, who was also a saint, introduced some necessary reforms into the order. From the convent- terrace you get a grand view of Rome and the sur- rounding hills. There is something heavenly in the calm silence and peace that reign everywhere throughout the building. At about five minutess' walk from St. Sabine is the church dedicated to St. Alexius. You remember his history. lie lived in voluntary poverty at the door of his own father's house, under the staircase, for many years, without making himself known to his father or mother, who constantly mourned his de- parture. The staircase is still to be seen ; the church ha*' been restored by the piety and munificence of a religious society of laymen, aided by Pius the Ninth. It is handsome, but to my taste the orna- ments are a little too gaudy. A convent of Theatine Fathers is attached to it. They received us well. Thursday^ 10th. — This morning I went to the Irish college and church ; it is called St. Agatha in Suburra. I visited O'Gonnell's monument, containing his heart, — that noble heart that was filled with such pure patriotism and noble sentiments of true devo- tion. The liberator's bust is very well executed. I called on Dr. Kirby, the superior, a genial, kind- hearted man. He received me witn open arms, and invited me to sing high-mass and dine on Sunday. After dinner, Monsg. Lafleche, Monsg. Langevin, MM. C, G., P., and m/self, visited the Castle of St. Angelo. It is strongly l3uilt and well^defended ; but with the modern appliances of offensive warfare it would not long stand siege. The zouaves are in garrison here now. It was built by the Emperor Adrianus as a tomb for himself and family. It com- municates with the Vatican by a subterranean pas- sage. Friday. — The same party visited this morning the ■y^ ' fV vti |■^^ — 166 — museum and astronomical apparatus of Pere Secchi, in the Roman College : we were shewn through by Father Secchi himself, who has all the modesty of a real savant. The instrument which he himself invented for meteorological observations is a world's wonder. It gives the intensity of the winds, the state of the atmosphere, and indicates the changes that are about to take place. It received a large gold-medal at the Paris exhibition. We were then shewn through the cabinets of natural science ; and the professor made some very interesting experi- ments on light and sound^ for our special benefit. We then went to the rooms of St. Louis de Gonzague and the Yen. Berchmans, which are now fitted up into handsome chapels. They contain many relics of different saints. Passing through the long corridor of the college, we came to the wing occupied by the fathers' cells, and it was with some emotion we read on the doors the names ofsome of the occupants : Pere Perrone, P. Ballerini, Liberatore, Franzlin, Patrizi, etc. These are names that have filled the world with the renown of their science and learn- ing, — names that posterity will extol and admire ; and yet the occupants were here in small, mean cells, surrounded by all the signs of strictest poverty and humility. Ah ! the enemies of Christ and His church may well fear the Jesuits ; for as long as they are thus humble in their riches, they will oppose an invincible barrier against the attacks of infidelity and irreligion. Every Friday evening the devotions of the Stations of the Gross are performed in the Coliseum. I went thither this evening, and found vast crowds of every nationality and religion. At half-past four the pro- cession entered the arena. Eight men, in the garb of penitents, came first, one of them bearing a large cross ; then came the preacher, a Capuchin monk ; and after him a number of ladies dressed in black, — 167 •v. belonging to some pious association. They recited the beads in a singing tone along the road, and until they came to the large cross which stands in the middle of the arena. The procession then wended its way to a platform on the left side of the building ; the audience stood all around, and the monk made a very impressive sermon on the flagellation of our Lord. At the end of the discourse the whole assembly knelt, and we all repeated aloud an act of contri- tion. The stations then began ; they are placed all around the Coliseum, at the distance of 200 or 300 feet the one from the other. There were bishops and priests ; men, women, and children, rich and poor : all were mixed together without distinction ; and the ceremony was all the more imposing for the piety and recollection evinced by every one. I prayed with the rest, and I can assure you that it is impossible not to feel moved when you think that you are kneelijig on the very spot where so many martyrs generously offered up their lives for Christ Eighteen hundred years ago, those vast cir- cles that rise above us, majestic even in their ruins, were filled with 100,000 spectators; the ground on which we stood was vacant ; a trumpet sounded, and there was a hush of expectation on all sides. Suddenly, at a sign from the emperor, a large iron gate swung on its hinges, and a fierce lion sprang forth from the cage, which you still see opposite Hie place where the royal box looked down on the arena. A short time after, another gate opened a little to the right, where you see the tenth station, and several persons were" seen slowly advancing. Their arms were stretched forth in prayer ; their eyes were raised to Heaven ; they were the holy band of Martyrs. Some were young; others were advanced in years ; there were young maidens and tender youths ; but you could trace no signs of fear on their coun- tenances : on the contrary, in the sweet and placid .ar v>" > i It ■■>*'• ■'■'^r'r r '* ! — 168 — BGrenity that beamed forth, you could read the joy that pervaded their souls. A cry arose from the multitude : ChrlsUani ad bestias ! — '(To the beasts with the Christians ! » It was the solemn condemnation of Pagan Imperial Rome. The soldiers threw jav'elins at the lion to excite him to fury. The beast lashed his sides, and, perceiving his victims, he crouched low for a spring, approached them with soft velvet steps,and then with one mighty bound he was among them. You could hear the cracking of bones ; you could see the rich red blood as it spouted forth from ugly wounds ; but no cry of anguish, no manifesta- tion of pain. One by one they fell, and in a few moments they were a heap of mangled flesh welter- ing in clotted gore. Others were then brought in, and others still, until the brutal thirst for blood was satisfied. The performance was at an end, and the thousands issued out from the 24 huge gates to gain their respective homes. These oft-repeated scenes toot place on the spot where I was kneeling, and I, thank God — a descen- dant of those heroes, — I — a priest of the religion for which they died, — was there to-day to thank the Divine Saviour for having given them grace and strength to fight the good light, and bear witness to the truth and might of the faith which they upheld unto death. What if some of the old Pagan Emperors could come forth from his forgotten grave, and, seated on the ri.iins up yonder, could look down for a moment on what was taking place ! The seats once so crowded of the tiers of galleries are now vacant ; the voices that so fiercely clamoured for the blood of the Christians, and proclaimed, in tones of the most abject sycophancy, that Caasar was divine, are all hushed and silent now. He would look around him in vain for the smallest vestige of his power, once universal. And from his solitude above he would see the arena filled with hundreds, nay, thousands. 1 t 11 ' t pi ' — 169 — of those Christians he so much hated and derided. His thought would probahly bo to call for the tigers and lions to come forth from the vivarium where they were kept in his day ; but the vivarium is empty, and in ruins, too. He might summon his pretorian guards to rush on them and despatch them ; but the legionaries and protorians have long since disappeared. Then, in rage, lie could asl; of the grave a refuge for his discomhUuv, and sink into it with the cry of Julian the apostate expiring on the batiJefield : » Nazaren, thou hnst conquered ! » Saturday^ '\Wi March. — This day live years, dear C, I said my first mass in the little interior chapel of the Ursulines (of Quebec). What a happy day it was ! Would to God that all my masses since had been as fervent ! Last night I endeavoured to prepare in a fitting manner for the solemn anniversary. I went to confession to Father French, an Irish Jesuit residing in the Roman College, and after wards said mv breviarv at the altar of St. Louis de Gonzague in the church of St. Ignatius. This morning I had the happiness of olTering up Holy Mass in the crypt of St. Peter's, on the altar beneath which lie the remains ofSS. Peter and Paul. I repassed in my memory the five years of priest- hood already passed, and, alas ! found no great consolation in the thought. Had I been faithful to all my promises made on the morning of the 12th March, 1865 ? No. Had I lived as a priest, closely copying the Divine model? No. Had 1 endeavoured to bring souls to God ? Had I worked faithfully and constantly at the great work of the extension of the church ? No. And yet I had been filled with graces ; I had had many warnings, many opportunities. It had been given to me to see with iny own eyes the Holy Places, to walk in the footsteps of Jesus along the sorrowful way. I had prayed at the Holy Sepulchre and on Mount Olivet. I had been to 8 1'. •' VI *'i''- i P 3 lit % V 170 iK U Bellilehem and Calvary. And now, as a new favoui , I was allowed to celebrate the beginning of a new year in presence of the most holy relics of the two great priests of the Jews and Gentiles, — the imme- diate successors of Christ Himself. I clearly heard our Saviour say to me, in the language of Holy Writ : « What could I do that 1 have not done to gain thy heart and win thy love ? » Yet I could not answer firmly and fondly, with St. Peter : « Lord, Thou knowest that I love Thee.)) The past '^nld have given an emphatic denial to the asserti .f I dared to make it. All, then, I could do was to aeplore the last years, to detest my past conduct, and renew my promises of fidelity for the future. May God, through the intercession of the glorious Apostles, grant that they may not be in vain ! (M I prayed for you, too, dear C, and for other friends in whose welfare, both spiritual and temporal, I have a right and a duty to feel interested. 1 invoked the blessing of God on all the generous friends who had contri- buted to my coming here, and prayed that the Church founded on Peter, by Christ, might triumph over all our enemies. As I prayed I could hear the voice of music and psalmody stealing softly through the vaults of the tomb from the chapel above. It seemed as if the angelic choir had caught my prayer and were repeating it before the Throne of God. And I felt comforted, fori remembered the words of Christ : « Ask and you shall receive ; seek and you shall fmd ; knock and it shall be opened unto you.)) (2) ( * ) These lines, for all those who know how worthy a priest Mr. Doherty has constantly been, will be the best proof of his great humility ami sincere piety. (') Here ends the relation of Mr. .Doherty's travels. The following pieces we have selected from his papers, as most interesting and worthy of publication. K' our, new two ime- oard cloly 10 to 1 not ^ortl, -^uld i I plore enew God, >slles, I'aycd vhose right 3ssing ontri- it the Limph ai- the rough re. It It my hrone ed the seek )pened a priest : of his 3. The ,3 most A LETTER ON THE IRISH QUESTION, ADDRESSED TO A NUN. Grand Seminary, 2ilnd April, 1864. Dear Rev. Madam, How uncouthly vulgar you must no doubt think me, to attempt writing to you on siicli unquaUfied paper I But listen to my reasons : with «a stretch of your wonted charity, tliey may win an excuse for what otherwise would seem unpardonable. I have just completed the lecture of tlie beantiful letter you sent me yesterday. I need not tell you how much I admired its high tone. The lady who wrote it is evidently of a powerful stamp of mind. Her mind is well stored with varied knowledge — indeed, without the least tinge of flattery. I am almost sure she has read a course of philosophy, so correct her views, so lucid her ideas. I can well imagine how such a mind must have ardently loved and embraced the dogma of our holy church, especially after having seen them, as it were, reduced to practice in so perfect away by those among whom God's grace w^as pleased to place her. It would have been a miracle if such a person as she evidently is would pass some years in a convent without becoming a firm and steadfast Catholic. Without knowing it, I shall venture to say that she must have been very bigoted (pardon the expression) when she first entered the convent. She must have been also at first slightly defiant of the apparent kindness by which the zeal of the Rev. ladies surrounded her ; but soon her lofty spirit must have pierced the mysty haze that domestic education had thrown around it; and as, one by one, the chains of prejudice, perhaps even fanaticism, fell from her limbs, like St. Peter, long ago, as he stood beside the angel whin the scalea were removed from hii eyes, — like is*.*- I iA']i 172 as unto Tobias before partin^^- \vilh Raphael, — oil ! what a pure light, what a s\V(!ot alnio:'^)herc, must have pervaded her soul ! What delight must have filled her whole being when the inagi(^ wand, or, to speak in a more Christian mannei', the swet^t voice of God, whispered its loving accents, and told her to be free, pronounced in her case the all-power- ful fiat lux^ and gave her the boon of faith ! Were you, llev. Madam, the confident of those first motions of grace which touched her ? Tf so, how you must have adoringly admired the ways and workings of Providence ! What joy you must have felt at seeing the im- pressions produced by virtue on such a noble minu ! And then, how great must b(} the reward of those who were instrumental in winning back to the true faith so precious a pearl ! But, how fast does my pen run ! Surely I promised you a reason for my want of etiquette ; and here I am, dilating in a highly imaginative manner on what T know nothing about, instead of fulfilling my pro- mise. Well ! v/hen 1 came to that part in wliich the lady undertakes to answer your patriotic question, «Are the Irish suQ'ering, and what is the cause? » I redoubled my attention, and promisad myself a real treat; for, thought I, the great intelligence of the writer has, before this, looked on and examined the sad picture before her eyes, and has, no doubt, found out its real cause. Must I say it? I was entirely mistaken in my anticipation ; nay, though it was most ungallant of me, I felt somewhat indignant at seeing so important a question handled in so Hip- pant a manner. The lady gives for causes what are in reality effects ; her conclusions are illogical, and, in some places, it is evident enough that she has been looking at poor Ireland through the big end of the telescope. This, Rev. Madam, is harsh language, an unsought- for disapprobation, and may, — 173 fVip- hat leal, Ishe big irsh hay, perhaps, pain you. But allow uie to say that my high ostcoiii for your many ([ualilics, ospecially the Irish oaes^ lead mo lo thus speak. You have, I am sure, placed a deal ol' eonlidence in the intellectual power of your Former pnpil, and you would be prone to take her opinion, v^ven on these subjects, as standard. On the other hand, you have, I know, an ((enlarg- ed view)) ol" Indand imprint(.»d in your heart. You feel for its sullerings ; you worship its glorious firm- ness in the faith; you love its good humour and pathos, its wit, its genius, its mountains, its lakes, and its beauteous vales, — aye, even its very faults. Is it not so ? Do I exagg(jrate one iota ? If so, I am entirely at fault as to th(3 estimation I have made of your character. Are you, tfien, not sensibly pained at having such an appreciation of Ireland's condition given by one wdiom you feel bound to believe both enlightened and impartial ? All that you thought about Ireland's unhappy state, about the dreadful persecutions, the unjust exactions, the tyrannical power, that have broken, as it were, her fair form, all is illusion. The whole fabi'ic must, like Aladdin's wonderful palace, sink into the ground at one magic word ; and hereafter you must begin to think : " Well ! poor Ireland ! she is certainly suf- fering ; but, after all, it is her own fault, — or at least her rulers may have good reasons for thus fettering her." Dear Rev. Madam, this thouglit struck me as I continued to read ; and no sooner had 1 finished than I took the resolution of undeceiving you, and that as soon as possible. So I seized my pen, drew out a sheet of paper, the first come to hand ; and here is the reason of the total want of politeness vou must remark in the form of this — shall I call it / ■ J ) • i^. «■>• ; I*' , > • • ">.■• ^iauBS' -«tt .^ iSUI i'* !^yi." fl': mf flm. ^. . Mw: f' ' '*<• k ' r.. r V. . fe i,-f ft: 174 letter ? — and this is also why the language I employ swells now and then into diatribe. Permit mo, then, to answer yonr qi^estion, «Do the Irish suller, and what is the cause ?» and to refute some of the lady's propositions. I flatter myself that 1 shall he able to do so without much diillculty, for what I say comes under the head of palpable trutli : facts a'-e stubborn things, and cannot be inverted, while h istorical parallels and ded nctions are equally headstrong. Ireland suffers, and hae: suffered for many a long year, both physically and morally, and that to such an extent that it forms a subject of astonishment to some that she has not sunk to a degree of moral degradation evcni below Ihat of the islanders of Oceanica. When the Irish first came into contact with the Normans, ihey were just recovering from the effects of the prolonged slay of the Danes. You know that during the wars that covered Europe with ruins, when the Northern barbarians poured down on the Roman Empire, Ireland remained intact, and preserved brightly glowing and well-trimmed the lamp of science and religion. It is an historical fact that her shores became the refuge of learning,whicli, like the sacred fire hidden during the captivity of Babylon, was after a time to illumine, by its bright rays, the dark night of barbarity that covered with its sable wings the whole face of Europe. This, I repeat, is history, nothing more. But in her turn she was to feel the weight of the barbarian's strong arm, and then commenced the series of those long suffer- ings which, through a mysterious dispensation of Providence, have, with more or less intermission, oppressed her ever since. The role of each nation is, in my opinion, different: some are destined to be glorious and great in a worldly point of view ; others to be still greater and more glonous, according to faith, — 175 — ight ing to The former, like Assyria, Egypt, Greece, Rome, England, &c.,wiUb(3iriiglity in wai", poworful in com- iiiercG ; tlioirllags will iloat proiKJly over prostrate nations ; ])nt, as th(3 })ro[)liol, Daniel says, ^(Thoir fcot shall be of iron and of clay,)) a fe('l)lo and (ickle foun- dation, wliich, if struck by the litilo stone detached from the mountain, will cause the whole superstruc- ture to crumble. Others there are that, like the [»eople of God, likfi poor Poland, orsulfering lrehind,must go dow!i into Kgyi>t and be persecuted by Ph^iraoh ; must cross the desert-sands of persecution and suffering ; must be cari'ied away in captivity into a strange land, where thoy must hang up their harps and remain in mute desolation ; but who, never- theless, are ever under the i)rotection of the luminous cloud of faith ; wliose virtues and trials ever ascend as a perfume' before God's throne, and whose place is marked in golden betters among the most wortliy portions of Christ's church-militant. Whicli is the more noble destinv of the two ? Oh ! if tliose who rail and mock at {)Oor Indanil had l)ut the (iyes of faith, how they would fall dov/n and kiss the hem of the garment she w^ars, all ])espriukled as it is with the blood of her martvrs ! — how they would (mvy \u?,r degradation !— how they would exalt her lowliness ! As far I'emoved as is Lazarus from Dives, so far removed is Ireland's true and real glory from the paltry, wMn, and sickly hc*i0 that worldly success has shed around the person of her rival. After many years of suinu'ings, the brave Brian J^oru, like Alfred of England, collected his country's scattered forces on the plains of Clontarf, and before the na- tion's might tlic stranger iled in dismay. But, alas! the land was covered witli ruins, and, the sources of education liaving 'been taken away, the necessary elfects of ignorance and its concomitant evils fol- lowed. \ou must not, then, bo surprised if in tha f :»i", r 176 — . »•^J; I' «*■ '••ft! ' m fm' i I fAvelfth century the Irish had not yet totally re- covered from the bad effects caused by the barbarian rule of the Danes. This is, however, certain : they were not one whit less advanced in civilization than the wild and boisterous Norman barons who came clad in iron and steel to conquer the fair lands of Ireland, as they had in the eleventh century con- quered those of England. « They cani(^,)) says the lyin/^ Uume, « to restore peace and union, and at tlie re(iuest of the Pope.)) Regenerators, forsooth I See how well Ireland was repaid by Providence, according to Ihem. In the fifth and sixth centuries her sons had gone forth with no other arms save the crucifix, with no other buckles save that of a firm and elhcient faith ; their armour was th(dr fortitude ; their sword the word of God ; their steeds were the wings of heavenly zeal ; and here, six centuries afterwards, when the Irish fell into barbarity, apostles came to them in iron helmets on barbed steeds, with heaw lances and ponderous battle-axes, and the first act of regenera- tion is the foul massacre of an nususpecting gar- rison ! I Think you that such gosj^ellers came on the strength of a Papal Bull? Do you imagine that his most Catholic Majesty Henry II. had great purity of intention, though he had washed in penance the stains which the murder of St. Thomas had left on his hands ? But this is not the question. The Ii'ish were more chivalrous and less easily subdued than their Saxon neighbours. William the Cionqueroi', notwithstanding what Sir Walter Scott says, found little dilhculty in establishing his sway throughout England. Not so in Ireland ; and so the lords of the Pale had for many a year a hot time of it, and many a time did the assembled clans push their depredatory excursions as far as the very gates of Dublin. There was, therefore, constant war. Religious hate fanned the llamc of national dislike, — 177 — >n )ii lay lh(i of Jsh lies lar, ke. and, evon in. the lime ofElizabelh, tlio wily patriot Hugh O'Noil oaino nigh Irofiing Ireland for ever. At loiigth, when transportations of eolonios, but- cheries on a wholesale system, hamlet-hurning, and, finally, the unsuccessful issue of the war for the Stuarts, closed by the treaty of Limerick, Ireland was prostrate; and fettered at the f(;et of her foe. You know the scries of enactments that followed. You have heard of the penal code, so I need not detail i.t to you. Then just let me ask you one (jueslion : Wliat makes a people what it is ? Is it not education — 1 me.in education in the widest sense of the word ? Take any given people, no malLei- how l)arl)arous ; give them missionnries to teach tliem the failli ; teach them industry and the fine arts ; giv(3 them a model government ; and, he th(;y Laplanders, l^itagonians, or South-Sea islanders, you will make of them, in the cojii'se of time, a noble, polished, enterprising, and highly civilized nation. Is not this true ? Look to the history of the western nations of Kurope : you see the verification of the fact. On the contrary, take the French, the Lnglish, or any other people : deprive them of their means of employment: yon will have necc'ssarily a s(;t of idlers, cut-throats, and robbers, for all these crimes are the olTspring of idleness. Take away I heir manufactures, their inven tions ; forbid them to bo rich ; oblige them to live in sfjualid wretched- ness by setting a pric<' on all Iheir goods ; deprive I hem, moreov(>r, of knowledge by l)anishing their [lastors, their learned men ; and if any uf them, perchance, do become leaincd, forliid them any iionorable employ, such as judgeshijis, mernlxMs of parliament, — nay, the very liberal professions, — and you will necessarily reduce them to ignorance. Then, when you have thus debased them, giv(; them over to starvation ; send in among them hale, hearty, ileok and lanctimoniout prooclytisers, with — 178 .'J m^' fat soup and Protestant Bibles ; open scliools to teach corrupt morals. Nay, more : if they do not prefer their animal comforts to their wretched condition ; if they are stubborn in resisting,' the devil and ^Ou, then turn them out of their hovels and let them die in the ditclnis, by the hill-side, on the public roads, or lienealh the ruins of their mud-wall cottages. Do all this, I say, to Lho Frtjuch, the English, or any other people; aud if in fifty or a hundred years you shall not have reduced them to an exceedingly low par in the scale of society, then, indeed, reason- ing a pari^ or, iu other tern)s, experience, is a inyLh. How unreasonable, then, it is to say : ((Oli! the Irish are idle vagrants; they are not iudusirious; thev are not over-qiven to cleanliness: therefore, it is small blame to their rulers to keep them down.» Rather say : Wlui^t ! after so many centuries' sufl'eriug, deprivations, bad moral training, — nature, the while, beiug almost left to her own njsources, — they are yet so good, so generous, so apt for trainiug ! How noble the spirit must have been that could not be broken by human efforts the most multiplied aud persevering! It is with nations as it is with individuals, by whom they are composed. This is an aduiitted fact. Well, then, take a child ; place him in a corrupt society ; neglect his moral trainiug ; leach him vice : will that child be good, docile, obedient? No, surely. Aud whom must you blame for hi:^ fault ? Not tin; child, but his guardian. Apply this simile to Ireland's case, and you will at once see how many bad reasonings are made by those who judge of what they see without seeking out the cause. The ladv savs tiiat the Irish do not sulfer to-day; she must then jje sadly ignorant of what passes within tiie Bi'itish senate-chamber. Has she read Peel's late admission ? Has she read an article which appeared in the Times some months ago ? Has she hoard the cry coming from the w«sl? -ito-'. ^ [Ot or ler. lad Ihs a? Surclv its wail must have struck ou her oar, siuce it awakcnod a syiiipathotic echo from Australia to tlio shores of America. Has she hoard of Bishop I'iuu- ket? Has she read thi^ hiii-ning letters of poor Falhei' Lavalle ? « But, iu the great cities they are not suffering.)) Wliy, then, do they coutiunplate a rise similar to that of tln^ Young Irelauilers ? Why docs the Fenian lirotherJu^od exist? In the fu'st place, even granting that their luippiness he real, 1 could still say: Do not he surprisjul at our ingrati- tude. You reap what you have sown. Y'ou sowed the seeds of moral degradation hy your endeavours to deprive us of our faith ; and if those wdiom yo5' corrupted arise against you, w'liom can you blame? The Fenian Brolherliood is a had association, I believe; but its members act in accordance with what vou have tauglit them : thev r»Hhice your lessons to practice. Y'ou taiight them to act on the law of the sCrongnst : most certainly they will do so if they can. She says that machinery is rfu) cause of the misery. This is, in some sort, anti-social. There are more machines in England tlian iu Ireland, and we do not hear any outcry. There are machines in France, in Germany, in Italy, in Ihc United States: why are not the laborers crying out ? Why are they not stai'ving ? The same cause always produces the same eilect. If machinery produce famine and laziness iu Ireland, why not in France or in England ? No ! no ! you must go deeper than the surface ; causes are like hidden springs : they aj'e far removed from the sujuu'fK'ial gaze. ((The Irish are not actually sullering from persecution.)) Very true. But tell me : If you were standing under an immense tree, wliicli suddenly tumbled down on you ; and if, on its fall, it vver-e impeded by some branches not too strong^ would you quietly maintain your position, and say : « Oh ! the danger is past; I ne«d not stir » ? Not a bit of it, nor the ladr either ; 't. — 180 "'^•: lOth slic and you would quietly, but quickly, emovo, lest the branches might give way. This is both remove, lest I lie brandies mi a lit crive wav. 'I'liis is the case with Ireland. The arm of persecution is stopped by the force of circumstances ; but the penal laws have not been repeal(3d. We all remember the « Ecclesiastical Titles Hilh); and we know that, if certain props were removed, the arm would again fall; for it is ever uplifted, and its force would Le as crushing as ever. Therefon^ the Irish sufTiu', as ^ '^•u may s(M3 from British statistics, nnd the cause of '^eir suller- ings is misruk. So, dear Revtu'(Mid Maaam, keep alive all yoiu' line Irish susceiitibilities and sym- pathies for the dreadful fate of fatherland. Do not believe thos) who llippantly tell you that the greatest sulforings of Ireland are like the equatoi', iraagmai'v AN KXCIillSION TO LI TMri*E. (M I paid a visit to- the Trappist Fathers during I he last week of August. The voyage was to me a very interesting one, so that I ho[H^, dear Revd. Madam, you will not be displ(\'ised if I allow myself to enter into some of its didjiils. The R(3vd. M. P., parish priest of Frampton, being down on a trip to St. Joachim, (-) invited mo to spend the last fortnight at his place, and promistMl, as an inducement, that we should visit La Trappt^ if I consented. The laltiu* inducement, though great, was unnecessary ; for the amiai)le qualities of the good cure were, of themselves, sufiicient prospect of (*) This ia :\n extract of a letlor addressed to one of tho rovil. ladiea of the Uraulirio Convent of Quebec. (*) Th« plao« whera the S«miuary liM its iumiaer rosi4l«ucc. — 181 «p .11^ to ho of 5V.1. luco. .1 pleasant time. And, indeed, the prospective was in complete accordance with the reality, for I never spent anywhere such a pleasant fortnight. However, as T nuisi not trespass too loni^ on your patience, I shall say nolhing of how we passed the interim be- tween Friday and Motidav, the dav on which it was agreed we should start. We were low in number — the cure, mvself, and It) 7 two others, — thn one astudiuit in the Seminary; the other, nnmed V"''lo-, a wild lad, full of fun and mis- chief. He lives ^vitll the cure, and is the terror of the environs for his pranks, but still a \niiversal favo- rite. Karly on Sunday evening we began to pack up. You may think the preparation somewhat too much before-hand ; but do not say so to the cure's ancient aunt, much loss to the vicllle menagcre^ An netle^ — else you would run the risk of being looked on and treated as a personal enemv of both. The two said persouag'.s live in the presbytery, where they reigii with divided supremacy. Annette holds absolute sway over the kitchen, pantry, dairy, and out-houses ; while Mademoiselle extends lier benign rule over the dining-room, bed-rooms, and drawing- room, and, indeed, miglit be looked on as having a kind of feudal supremacy over the whole establish- ment. 1 must except the cure's little sanctum^ or oHice ; there we hold a republican government, and could retire to smoke, romp, or play, as we wished. I have said that theirs was a divided supremacy. On one point, howevfU', thej hold al)solutely the same doctrine, that is, in their love, veneration, and, if I might say so, their worship of M. Ic Cure. Made- mohclle is in constant fidgets lest he might want anything ; and as for Annette, to say that any one was better, or presume that any one could be higher than M. le Cure, would be nothing less in her eyes than a heinous sin. « Monseignenr^ » (she will say, with a glight iois of httr head,) n ktn 9uij M$nt$ignnir^mMiii k ^M 1 te n'cst pas M. Ic Cure. Mon Dicu.je le connais depuL< qu'il ctait haut comme ra ; » and .'is she says this, she stoops to shew with her hand from the gi'Oiiiid a height so extravagantly small that baby Tom Thumb might be ashamed of it. 'Jhc poor cure shrugs his shoulders, and generally lets tliem have their own way in everything, except when they go too far ; then there is usually a i-ebellion, in which, I can assure vou, he is not always the connneror. On the present occasion a regular intestine strife took place ; and the cure may tiiank us for having even partially succeeded in carrying the day. Mademoiselle and Annette, as soon as they heard of our projected voyage, held a confabulation, and worked each other into a high state of excitemenl. as to the perils which must surround us during a voyage of live days throiigh the woods. No danger imaginable from wet -/eet and ."-olds, to I he like- lihood of starving to death, or been torn by wild beasts, escaped their tremulous surmises. Accord- ingly, they set about packing-up all sorts of articles proper to ward o(l' dangers imminent. If we had listened to them, we would have taken provisions enough to carry a caravan across the Sahara ; and what with blankets, boflalo skins, etc., etc., we would have had at least cargo for a schooner. Mademoiselle would open lire by dilating on some impossible hardships, and then would propose a preservative in the shape of a woollen scarf or fur-coat. The cure would ridicule the idea of wearing the one or the other in August. Annette would then come in with reserved fire to support Mademoiselle^ when Victor would route her by some sarcastic observation which would draw down upon him the combined ire of the two. It was a rich scene all through ; and it was only at half-past nine r.M. that we were let otf with four large portmanteaux chock-full,— not, howerer, -.183 — ible ill 'lire Itho Ifire lute uld vvo. ^er, without several dark hints being thrown out as to the pro-bability of our being frozen or stiu'ved, and a mumbled wish on the part of Annette that « the ne'er-do-well Victor)) might get his merits one way or othfjr. Next morning we rose betimes, and, after the usual devotions, we began the demolition of a whole army of sandwiches and rolls. Annette's coffee was good, cud we praised it outrageously to put her in good humor. Then, donning our top-coats, and light- ing our cigars, wo all packed ourselves and baggage into the carets cosoy little wagon, and started. We had scarcely been gone live minutes when we heard a faint screa'm, and, looking around, we descried Annette in the distance in full sail after us, and under press of canvas, the strings of her high- crowned cap dying against the wind like a ship's pennants. « What now ? n said the cure ; ((can there have come a sick-call to stop our voyage ? » Annette, on seeing us pull up, had stopped also, and was beckoning violently. The cure requested Victor to go back and see what was the matter, which he did, though somewhat relactantly, prophesying, as he left, tliat it must bo (ciome extravagance of old Annettes'.)) The scene which followed was highly amusing. We could see Victor, as he came up to Annette, receive something from her, which ho immediatly ilung at her head, and ran back. It was nothing less than the cures night-cap that she had found, and feared he might want. Victor was highly indignant at having had his journey for nothing, and evidently so was Anne I to ; for, as far as we could see her, she stood in the middle of the road, alter- nately shaking her fist and the night-cap at us ; to which the juvenile answered, notwithstanding the remonstrances of M. le cure^ by ironical bows and waiving of caps. This was our first advontura ; thci second was not so laughable. *.•• ■. n — 184 1:1' I* Hl f< I if After six niilos' iravcllinc,' Ihrou.qli tlio bush \vn came to tlio ELchoniin, a brlilfjckss river wilii a l)ad crossing, and sligiilly swollen l»y llie precedinp^ rains. We liad no allernaLive ; so we persuade(l «Gaisar)t lo pliinj^ii in, after sonn) diilienlly, Ihe stream beinj,' j)i'eU,y ra[)i(l. TIk; cure t'lnd niyscli' were in the IVonl seat, half-slandin;,' ; llic boys, behind, were cliiif^'ing to the seats like grini-dealh. Not a word escaped our lips. Suddenly, whetln.'r from dizziness or fright, the horse d(!viated slightly, and ran the front wheel on a rock. The rurr iumn?- diately threw me the I'eins and jumped from the vehicle ; the boys disappeaj'cd, fi'om the jeik, over the back seat, and in an instant I was the only living soul on board. Such splashing ! such hopping from rock lo rock ! such exclainalions ! I managed to keep a light hold on the reins till the I'est got lo the shore; then, throwing the whole of my weight (you know bow immense it is) on the uplifted side, dvsar and I started and arrived sah?. No soon(n' did he get on terra ftrma than he dashed up the steep palliway, grazing the ctov, who, leaj)ing aside to avoid being struck by the wdieel, missed his fooling, and rollecl down the embankment, the horse still rushing on like a meteor till lui n^ached the brow of the hill, where be sto[)ped of his own accord. Then, for the first time, I looked back ; and, oh ! sncliasight! IJow Annette would have enjoyed her revenge, if she could have seen us !— the cure^ slightly bruised and bespattered with mud ! the ])oys wet and cold ! 1 assure you they presented a woeful spttctaclc as they toiled up tbc steep ascent. However, we all took our mishap gaily : a change of stockings, a little refreshment, a new ci^rar, and we were again en roule^ laugbing lieartily over our adventure. The rest of the journey was performed without anything remarkable. > 185 — lie At 5^ P.M. we arrived atLako Ktcluiniii, which lies almost midway between Frampton aiulLaTrappe, being abont at six h\'igues' distance froni'cach. We lost no time in gL'Ltin,^ supp(!r, ;is W(; were almost ramished ; then, after enjoying,' a deli.i^hti'nl sail on the lake, we retired early to rest, as wo wislnjd to start (;ai'lv next moinin'^ Tli(i newt morning, Tnesday, we renewed onr jonrney ; and, indeed, I never rem(;mb(n'to have ex- perienced more lonesome ti'avelling. A thick fog had s(Htl it which is not yet com- pleted. On the whole, it is striking to come sud- denly on those marks of cultivation, after having been so long in the wild woods ; and the effect is not at all lessened by the sight of the sturdy brothers in their brown cassocks and skull-caps, as they hurry from different points to the monastery at the sound of the bell. The Superior received us at the door with true '■■*'•■ vT m... IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 '- IIIIIM 1. I.I 1.25 1.4 2.5 1^ 2.0 1.8 1.6 m A ^^ 'If V /A ^^ ^J %■ w- -*-.)(»y ...<-* t^mmrnm ■ i ■ MP^- ■■..■... 9 .?V' :«,K:: 'Sv- i Hi — 1»6 — French politeness, and ushered us into the little parlor, poorly furnished, but perfectly neat and tidy. The cure requested at once to be allowed to follow the exercises which were just then commencing, and, moreover, informed the Superior, much to my discomfiture, that I was a premature reprobate, who, at the call of grace, had come to pass the rest of my life in penance at La Trappe. Father Francois smiled, and said that I was lieartily welcome, but that, before beginuing my austerities, it would be well to give me a last glimpse of the world, in the shape of some reireshment. « Then,)) said the cuvc^ uif that be the v/ay you treat your penitents, I must say that we are all more or less guilty, and desire to perform the same penance.)) Accordingly, we pai'took of a frugal but hearty meal, during which the Superior served us, enter- taining us all the while with the details of tlie rules and regulations, and giving us some amusing «j / — i_) (J '.J anecdotes of Trappists in general, and of himself in particular. He had formerly been a French soldier, and had evidently seen much life. The rules of the house are pretty nearly as follows : The monks retire to rest at 7 o'clock p.m., and rise at two, except on feast-days, wdien Ihey get up at midnight. They recite matins, make meditation, and hear mass from two to six o'clock. The lay brothers then go to the fields, where they work in silence until twelve. The priests divide the hours until twelve between their masses, little hours, and house-work, with a spiritual lecture. At twelve, all the community proceed to the refectory, where they all partake of their first and only repast for the day. Even this is, I assure you, very frugal, and, owing to their present poverty, sometimes very spare. They can neither eat meat, nor eggs, nor butter, nor milk, nor cheese. Vege- tables and bread alone compose their food ; how- — 187 ift riso p at lay ■k ill ours lurs, the and jyou, lei'ty, peat, ^ege- low- erer^ I believe there is some allowanc© made here, in tne shape of milk and cheese, on account of the want of a sufficient quanlity of vegetables. But this the Superior informed us would soon be done awav with. After dinner there is a spiritual lecture ; then the brothers go again to the fields till 6. p.m., and the priests again divide their time between the recitation of the Penitential Psalms, part of the breviary, lecture, and housework. Then conies the recitation of complices, the singing oi the Salve Regina^ the Angclus^ and at 7 all retire to nst. There is some necessary alteration in the ruh dnring winter. I assnre you that the recitation of the office is something very impressive. Imagine a lovely chapel in the backwoods, poorly ornamented, but on which reigns a scrui)ulous neatness. A dim light from the altar-lamp allows you to but half-distinguish the immense folio volumes, containing, in antiquated print, the ollice of St. Bernard, and which repose on a long Iv^trui running up the middle of the choir. On either ^ide stand the monks ; near the altar are the Fathers, robed in white, their features completely hidden by the large hood or cowl ; below ihem are the lay bi'Others with their flowing beard, wrapped in tl.eir ample brown cassocks. 'Yhe solemn, measured tonesof those holy men ; the stentorian voices of the lay bro- thers ; the death-like silence which reigns for some time after each psalm ; the Salve Regina^ chanted in a solemn, simple strain, entirely different from ours ; the AngeluSj during which all lie prostrate, — and all this taking place in the wild woods, far away from the habitations of men ! Oh ! it is beautiful, solemr., and impressive, and makes one love and venerate the grand old faith which inspires such self-abnega- tion, or, rather, such true heroism. I asked the Superior, after the office, to pass the night on a Trappist bed. He at first laughingly I 188 — I ■ . tr. ■■■» X ' ' refused ; seeing that I desired it, he caused one to be transported into the little alcove where I was to pass the night. It is a low, narrow box, about three feet wide, standing on four short feet. The tick is stnffed with ahavings ; there is but one covering, and a pillow of straw. Nevertheless, I mu.-t say that I slept soundly, and rose rel'reslied at two, when the cure and 1 assisted at the morning exer- cise of matins and meditation. The cure said mass at 6 o'clock. I had the happiness of receiving Holy Communion. At seven we partook of a hearty breakfast, and at 8.^ a.m. started again for home. The ckre made a verv handsome offering to the Superior. His answer was s.ingular : u It is a great deal too much, but it is against our rules to refuse donations.)) We were obliged to sleep at the lake again on Wednesday night, and arrived at the presbytery on Thursday evening, safe and sound, to the immense satisfaction of Mademoiselle and An- nette, who, in her joy at our safe return, forgot her spite, and welcomed us all right heartily...... ;,< -,» I ^,^ I ^ 'i-l the A PROPOS OF A PIE. Quebec Seminary, 2(jtli October ^ IBG. Dear I hav-e just torminatcsl the rather iincanonical process of despatching^ an apple-pie, and can fully testify to the geniul sensations superinduced by sucli a feat. « Mon Dieu, » dites-vous, « quel acte d^immorlifi- catiou ! Et il s'eu vaiite encore ! » Don't scold; I don't like it. There are many reasons why I should eat the pie aforesaid ; and as, for the time being, I have nothing else to do, I may as well give you some of them to calm your ireful scruples. The first, and, perhaps, principal one, is: ((Why shouldn't I eat it?)) There it stands, or, rather, stood; who'll eat it if I don't? I am the only permanent resident in my little room, excepting a half-a-dozen fat mice ; but I have long since found out that these eccentric characters thrive better on tallow candles. And, talking of thriving, how in the world do Ihe little creatures manage to entertain their cor- pulency? There is nothing here, or in the environs, but hardwood bedsteads, woollen coverlets, and small crockery ; and yet, there is not one of them but could grace an alderman's chair, or be con- sidered fit to fill a mandarin's office among the celestials. I first thonght, when I came here, that they had belter immigrate to the kitchen, and gave them sun- dry hints to that effect, in the shape of mouse-traps and rat-exterminators. This, I know, was betraying the interests of the community, besides giving bad counsel. But I thonght it hard to see tho dear little things starve. — 190 — They did not, however, leave the i^remises, and, some how or other, managed to live, — though not at my expense., as I thought. The idea then came to me that they had taken a liking to me, and that their visits were disinterested and purely de ceremonic. My heart softened accor- dingly. I destroyed my traps, and allowed them to roam ahoat at their pleasure, and, indeed, often went so far as to imagine that my heart beat responsively to the pattering of their little feet. One day, 1. took it into my head to overhaul my winter gear and divers other articles. My snow- shoes were the first to be examined, — when — oh ! murther ! ate out of a face! My caribou shoes? Gone ! The only decent pair of chamois mittens I possessed ? In ribbons ! Here was a case for a jury. And were it only this ! — but, as my fears were awakened, I resolved to make a tliorough search, and it was only then that I discovered the extent of my loss. A welbbound note-book, containing all my treasured lore in Scripture, — the result of last year's notes and reading, — gnawed maliciously and feloniouslv, and evidentlv serving as a bed, behind the shelf, for the wicked troops of marauders. A largedictionaryofLatinsynonyms, acopy ofGowper's poems, Tilery's essay on literature, and Demos- thenes, were all more or less chewed. Evidently they had been for some time going through an indiscriminate and disordered course of reading. You may be sure that my bad temper was in nowise cured bv this discoverv. I think t remem- her saying something very harsh, what the inimi- table French would term dea gros 7nots. I almost can assure you that but, good gracious ! — what have I been doing all this time ? Entertaining you with nothing less than a mouse-story! Fie on my wanderings! I crave pardon, and instantly ahall r$trac9 my stops. ttHwtt m m ind, not 311 a sted m to VtUlt vely . my ,no\v- ^oh! loes ? 2ns I jury. were h,and )f xny U my year's and ehind rs. A v'per's lemos- Idently Igli an Lvas m [emem- inimi- )st can it have In with >n my •hall I said, just now, that myself and the mice (bolhcr- ation to them) were the only hablliies of my room ; there is, to be sure, the dortolrier^ a sleepy-looking individual who does up the rooms every morning, and in comparison with whom Pharaoh's leankine would most certainly have been considered as fat cattle. He, as I say, might, perhaps but, there I go again Flighty, eh? My second reason for demolishing the pie is that, being a descendant of Eve, Vv^'ho was lured from Pa- radise by a rosy apple, it is no wonder that I shouhl be, now and then, lured from the dogmatical deptlis of a ((Treatise on Faith d to explore the more savou- ry profundities of a pie-dish. Then, again, my taste is decidedly in favour of the sweet orthodoxy of the Blessed Liguori, who, as you are aware, was raised up to combat the errors of the rigid heresiarch Jansenius. And, fmally--....good-bve ! There goes the bell ! Wll nm^'-'.L ■' : B|i. H»§''''^' BBRw ''\* Ujl^; f^.V^I EmV''''''^"'' K*- a^k^-'';'' i9ElA' ^ * «g'''' W^r"'": 1 ^i'^'/'"' l;M'^.;t:,,' ^^^^" Id^fJtl' TBRgtVjh tV '. gjHB^ i*' ; KH^jT -•'■ -!«,«'- nuflDSB- \^ii'*' ^^^•1,* i ^»'^-''' SWSi'yJ;;., 1 ' ^I^Hk 4 A* '' ' ^ i-^E^ '''■' I • jSBt^v '*■ f ►i^a^ij-/ i^^'\*"^ '■^I^'J^'' TJ^Blr^ .^l-^ii Hi [ I^Qap^Wf 'V**' L-'r^-f'^Vvi' f < fffl^i^' *»* ;" ' fl^^'-'^-.'.- '^mi'^' ^Wm^- ' ^BSwv 1^.' IK^V'.*' ffil^' 1^1^. 1 ^Bwyl '^ '^ '>' A WORD ABOIT IRELAM) AND TUE UIISI!. (0 There is, perhaps, no subject which has been more universally treated than that of Irekind and the nsh. The attention of writers of al^nost every na- cionality, and of every shade of opinion, has been directed towards the liistory of our country ; and whatever may have been the bias of their genius, all have found in it ample matter for studv and a fruitful theme for disquisition. The chequered events of her annals furnish his- torians with a rich and varied narrative ; the philo- sopher can here grapple with religious and social questions of the most vital importance ; the nume- rous monumental relics of by-gone days open a wide field for anti(]uarian research ; whilst — not to speak of her music, so exquisitely tender, and which, gently stealing through the aisles of time, fills the soul with melancholv and reverence, — her litera- ture, holding equal claims to excellence with that of any other nation, fully repays the critic for the study he bestows on it. But besides the innate beauties and the deep hu'tility of the subject, there are other reasons which liave no less powerfully contributed to bring it under notice. The name of Ireland has, through the labours of her sons, become, in a measure, iclentified with the foundation and development of western civilization. Irishmen have materially aided in raising some of the most splendid monuments that attest the progress of ages; their memories are embalmed in the annals of everv nation of Euroj)e, and — the glory of the children redounding on the parent — the fame of Erin's sons (I) A lecture delivered by the Rovd, Mr. Doherty, at the Music Hall, Feb. 12th, 13(59, ia r^ply to tke liar. Dr. Irvine, •f Montreal. — 103 — 4r ■ (0 more 1 the ^y na- bcen ; and 3nius, and a h liis- philo- social mme- L wide speak /hicb. Is the lite ra- th a I, Dr the nnate there rfallv me or come, 1 and have endid their everv ildren 3 sons at the Irvine, became the measure of hor own renown. Her past and present wore considered matters of interest and of affectionate inquiry ; for when tlie his- torian recorded the deeds of the Iris! i benefactors of bis nation, lie felt it as a haliour of love to revert to the land that bore them. I am not one of those who claim for the Iilsh or Celts a marked superiority over other races. 1 rather think that such an nssumption, from its absurd pretensions, is calcubnled to bring discredit on them ; but T do not go beyond the limits of his- torical truth when I assert that the nations of Europe owe Ireland a debt of gratitude, deep and lasting, for the benehts she has conferred on tiiera ; and the highest meed of praise for the glorious ex- ample she has set them of fortitude, of unflinching hrmness under oppression, and for teaching them lessons of the noblest courage that ever steeled the heart of man — that of giving testimony unto death for the convictions of the soul. A rapid survey of the history oi our country will shew the truth of this assertion. It is known that at that period which is set down by historians as the opening of the middle ages, the northern barbarians, coming forth from the depths of their forests, poured down with irresistible fury on Southern Europe. Their fierce hordes, under different names, appeared almost simultaneously in every country, and their passage was everywhere marked by ruin and deso- lation. Whole conn tries were depopulated ; flourish- ing cities were destroyed ; and if the Church had not succeeded in bending beneath the voke of re- ligion those savage conquerors, the light of civili- zation would have been lost in impenetrable gloom. But, true lO her mission, she withstood the shock of barbarity, as she had resisted the strength of pagan- ism. Her Popes and Bishops confronted the savage warriors, and filled them with admiration by the 9 wm ( • '•'m>[-V>; .^ / ;fr.'"' — 194 — lustre of their virtues ; her missionaries went forth amongst them ; they softened the rudeness of their manners ; they opened their eyes to tlie light of faith, and founded in their midst a new religious society, stronger and more healthy than the one which it had superseded. Now, in this work of regeneration the Irish missionary holds ^a pre-em- inent rank. The conversion of Ireland hy St. Patrick had already home fruits a hundredfold ; the Island was studded witli monasteries and pious retreats of learning ; wisdom and sanctity, with the hlessings of holy peace, reigned triumphant throughout the land, precisely at the time vvdien the torrent of invasion was sweeping over the plains of Europe, destroying all that opposed it, like hurning lava from a volcano. Tlie horrid din of war was re- echoed hack on the Irish shore ; tlic cries of afflic- tion came from across the seas; with generous resolve, the soldiers of Christ went forth to the rescue of their hrethren, and then did Hope lift her eyes to Heaven in hlissful expectancy. The tempest- cloud was dark, but behind it the light w^as rising, for in the wake of the barbarian followed the Irish monks. Into the thickest danger they plunged with all the true zeal of Apostles, and with some- thing of the characteristic impetuosity of their race. The struggle was long and bloody ; many of those heroic soldiers fell in holy martyrdom; but God it was who inspired their coming, and He blessed their eflbrts. Tl>e storm at length spent its fury; and when the gloom was changed into the calm light of peace, the Saxon, the German, and the Frank might be seen kneeling in reverence before the shrine of some Irish sain I whom they had loved on earth as their apostle, and whom they now revered in Heaven as their protector. And so great was the number of those holy men, — so wide-spread became, the renown of Ireland as the retreat of 1^: \mm ft ^ —105 — learning and sanctit^', — that admiring nations gave her the title of the « isle of Saints.)) Hut the bright- est day darkens into night. The most glorious period of Irish history was already fast drawing to a close. (( We must now, » says Mr. McGee, ((turn away our eyes from the contemplation of those days in which was achieved for Ireland the title of the land of Saints and Doctors. Another era opens before us, and we can already discern the long ships of the north, their monstrous beaks turned towards the holy isle, their sides hung with glittering shields, and their benches thronged with fair-haired warriors, chanting, astliey advance, the fierce war- songs of their race. Instead of the monk's familiar voice on the river-banks, we are to hear the shouts of strange warriors from a far-off country ; and for matin-hymn and vesper-song we are to be beset, through a long and stormy period, with soimds of strife and terror and deadly conflict.)) The terrible Vikings landed on the peaceful shores of Erin ; and so terrible was their onset, so numerous their hosts, that they well nigh succeeded in over-running the whole Island. Fierce and fre- quent were the battles that wore fought; but the ever-succeeding wave bore down all resistance : cities w^ere destroyed ; monasteries vv^ere pillaged; churches v/ere burned down, and literary records dispersed to the winds. As the tempest-laboring ship reels before some mountainous wave, and ap- pears, for a moment, as if about to sink beneath the deluge of whalers, so Ireland appeared for a time as if about to lose forever her political existence, so fiercely did the iron storm of war sweep over her ; wdien suddenly, rallying for a desperate and su- preme effort, her warriors assembled under the command of Brian Boroihme. On the plains of Glontarf, with one mighty blow, they struck the invader to the earth, and stood once more free and «r !,■»'■ p" ;/'> i.V ;«.■•■ UP' — 19G — linen thralled beneath the glorious folds of the Sunburst. At that moment Ireland was free, but the land was filled with ruins. The lamp of learning burned dimly ; the generations of pious students had disap- peared ; and the people, from constant contact with the Danes, had caught something of their barbarity ; in a word, the entire social cdilice had to be rebuilt. But this undertaking should necessarily be the work of ages. A nation does not lose its civilization in a day ; neither can its loss be repaired in a short time. Historians who speak of Ireland during the century and a-half that intervened between the vic- tory of Glontarf and the Norman invasion, some- times lose sight of this. They quote the censures which 8t. Bernard passed on the Irish during that period ; but they do not take into account the causes wdiich produced the evils he alludes to, nor the efforts whicli w^ere being made towards tlieir remo- val. If they did so honestly, — if they studied with fairness that part of our history, they would become convinced that no work of regeneration was ever pursued more steadily. The people of God were not more arduous in rebuilding the w^alls of the Holy City, after tlieir return from the captivity of Babylon, than were the Irish in restoring the faded beauties of the land, and in raising it to the high moral and intellectual level which it had previously attained ; and their generous efforts were on the point of being crowned with success, when they were called away from their labors to defend their hearths and homes against the incursions of a new enemy. The Norman invasion of Ireland, which took place in the second half of the twelfth century, was, in point of fact, the greatest misfortune that could have fallen on that country ; and its permanent con- linualion, by the English nation, one of the most 197 — 'f )f Ihe } land 111 mod disap- t with )arity ; built. be the izalion a short ig the ho vic- , some- Mi sure ft Lig that 1 causes lor the V remo- ld with become as ever . were of the vity of e faded e high viously on the ^A\ they d their a new h took 'y, was, t could nt con- le most flagrant outrages that has ever been perpetrated against the rights of a people. It sprang from crime and falsehood ; it was carried out in bloodshed and persecution; and it was sealed by the Union of 1800 in treacliery, hypocrisy, and infamy. Its first effects were to deprive a free and unoil'ending people of the lawful ownershipof their lands ; its second effort was to deprive them of their religious and intellectual life, by making it crim- inal for them to drink at the sacred fountain of learn- ing, or worship (iod according to the dictates of their own conscience ; and its final fruits were to drive Uiem from their homes in countless numbers, and disperse them over tlie face of God's earth, where, with bleeding hearts and wasted forms, they had to incorporate themselves into different nation- alities, and toil on in the upward road to fame and respect, amid the difficulties of foreign manners, customs, laws, and language. They had to shut out all hope of ever seeing the land they loved : its green mountains would never rise J3cfore them, nor the waving corr-fields ever greet their gaze. The sunny hillocks where they x^layed in the happy buoyancy of youth ; the cottage where their father taught them first to pray to Jesus and invoke Mary, morn- ing and night ; the churchyard where the poor mother rests, or any of those things that endear home to the heart, could never be restored to them. They might, indeed, assemble in foreign lands and listen to the story of Ireland, or drink in the music of her songs ; but this was only the pang of memory, not the bliss of reality. "And, oh 1 to hear the sweet old strains'of Irish|inu3io rise, Like gushing memories of home beneath far foreign, skies, Beneath the spreading calabash, bener.th tlie trelissed vine, The bright Italian myrtle, or dark Canadian pine ! Oh ! do not those familiar tones, now sad, and no w so gay, Speak out your very, very hearts, — poor exiles far away ? \3f r \ f^> it!*' '¥■■ i'-VM — 198 — But yot, how many sleep afar, all liecdlcss of these strains, Tired wanderers who souglit repose through Europe's battle- plains ? In strong, fierce, headlong fight, they fell as ships go down in storms ; They fell ! and human whirlwinds swept across their shattered forms. No shrouds bnc glory wrapt them round; nor prayer nor tear had they, Save the wandering winds and the heavy clouds, poor exiles far away !" Wha', I have said of English rule in Ireland may appear harsh, but it certainly is not exaggerated ; and, did time allow me, I could adduce a thousand authentic documents in confirmation of my verdict. I could cite the very work of amelioration which has been begun to-day, — a w^ork of tardy justice to our land, which must end in no half-measures. The Britisli Parliament, in declaring the disestab- lishment of the State-church a measure of justice, imply that its existence for three centuries has been a wrong and an injustice ; and when, as it is to be hoped, that same legislature will have abolished the existing laws relating to the tenure of lands by the bulk of the people, it will be admitted that heretofore the system was wrongful and oppressive. But a lengthy consideration of these matters would lead me beyond the scope of my present lecture, which is to rectify certain erroneous f^'rate- ments concerning Ireland and the Irish. Indeed, I may have already wandered too far from it in these introductory remarks ; but my desire to prove the claim Ireland has on the respect and gratitude of Europe, will, I trust, be considered a sufficient apology for my having done so. '' ' " i; I skall now enter into my subject ; but at the ver outset I hasten to repeat what I have already s' id n public : I act in no spirit of aggressiveness. I j^,. • Irvine made, through the press, statements dero tory to historical truth : I shall, through the r — 199 — the sady liess. lents the same medium, rectify his errors ; and I must say that some of those errors are so glaring, that they would be unpardonable if traced to anything beyond irreflection, — so much so, that when I attempted to analyze the lecture, I almost regretted that I had undertaken its refutation ; for I felt loth to attack a work which bore no evidence of careful prepara- tion. Still, my promise was given ; and to fulfil it, I am before you this evening. Hence, my present disagreement with the rev- erend lecturer is purely on historical grounds ; beyond these, I disclaim any. With regard to the division of Hie subject, my course is necessarily shaped after his own : [ shall take up his statements one by one, and shew you why I object to them ; and lest it might be thought that I misquote him, I shall in every case read to you the passage that I wish to bring under your notice. The first point denotes, I fear, a very lamentable confusion of ideas concerning Roman history. • The Doctor says : — « While Imperial Rome was planting her iron heel on the necks of the other nations, — whilst her greatest military chief was actually conducting his steel-clad warriors over the fertile plains of Britain, Ireland was the retreat of the learned, the cradle of art and science, and the home of the peaceful and pious student, who lied from continental Europe to find an asylum on her hospitable and happy shores; and when the Augustan age at last arrived, strange to say, learning had attained such a pre-eminence in Ireland as to secure for her the enviable title of the 'Isle of Saints,' by which name, for centuries, she was known in the annals of Roman history. » Now, this, you will admit, is very unguarded, and justifies the remark I have made concerning the lecture, — namely, that it bears no marks of care- ful study. ,<-, .; . >r — 200 Still, even on lliat supposition, I cannot wholly exonerate Dr. Irvine from blame ; for there are in history certain facts so generally known that the simplest student would blush to ignore them. Wlien the Rev. Doctor speaks of the great mili- tary chief who led his warriors over the plains of Britain, he evidently alludes to Julius Gicsar ; he, therefore, asserts that « pious students,» or, if you will, « Christian students,)) were then to be found in Ireland. Now, vou will remember that Julius Ciesar lived and died before the birth of Christ ; he fell assassinated at the foot of Pompey's statue on the Ides of March, B. C. 44. How, then, could those pious professors of Christianity have nourished in Ireland before the founder of Christianity came into the world in a visible manner ? Nor must it be said that I distort the Doctor's words by saying that « pious student » is here synonymous with « Christian student ; )< for, even if their meaning were not obvious, the next sentence determines their signification. ((Wlien the Augustan age arrived,)) he says, « strange to say, Ireland had secured the enviable title of the ' Isle of Saints.')) But the arrival of the Augustan age cannot be fixed at a later period than the lifetime of Ca3sar's adopted son, Octavius. Therefore, if Ireland was known at that time as the Isle of Saints, the saints whose learning and piety won for her that name must, of a necessity, have been the w pious students*) who, according to the Doctor, nourished there whilst Caisar was in Britain. In truth, these are very unfortunate assertions ; and though the phrases are well turned, — though they have a certain ring of modern oratory, — yet, from the statements they contain, there might be drawn conclusions very damaging to the Doctor's reputation as a historian. The next point exhibits the same disregard for — 201 — Ions ; aigh -yet, it be aor's for historical clatti. Ho says : « Nor had the sun of Ireland's hterary and intellectnal glory set at a still later period ; for when Alfred the Great founded the University of Oxford, he turned his eye to conti- nental Europe in search of men competent to fill with efficiency the various chairs of science and philosophy in that institution ; and tlie only man found in all Europe fit to occupy the chair of pure science was an Irishman, who is known in the records of that great seat of learning to this day hy the name of Joannes Mathematicusllibornicus. » For peace sake, I will allow that this llihernian mathematician enjoyed the honors conferred on him hv Alfred, and that his memory is still cherished and revered by the Oxonians. Yet, though Oxford still persists in giving him the liighly classical appellation of Joannes Mathomaticus llihernicus, 1 would humbly submit that he is known, if I aui not mistaken, in history, under the name of Joannes Scotus Erigena, or even plain, honest John Scolt. But that he was the only man of his time to be found in all Europe fit to fill a chair of pure science is an assertion, the truth of which I cannot admit without some further and better substantiated proof. 1 can perfectly understand that the Ilev. Doctor Irvine, being an Irishman, wishes to atttach a note of excellence to everything Irish; but we must never let the love of country get the better of our love for truth. This might be pardoned in tlie fanciful language of poetry, but it cannot be adapted to sober prose, especially in the regions of history. At the time of Alfred the Great there were in many countries nourishing institutio;is where a relish for study and learning was carefully pre- served. On consultation the Doctor will find, for instance, that in those days there were renowned schools of learning in Italy, France, and (Germany, at Paris, Rome, and Paderhorn. There wore also ;./.. f t f»'. f m. i-o it 3^: — SOS- high and noble names that shed a lustre on every branch of knowledge. The Doctor may even have read the learned treatises of Lupus, Abbot of Fer- rieres ; he must, too, know something of Agobardus, of Radbertus, of St. Ado of Anastasius, of Hinemar and others; nor can he ignore that Leo was con- sidered the greatest mathematician of his day. These men are well known to students ; their works have come down to us; it is, therefore, empty boast- ing to say that Joannes was the only man found fit to enjoy the confidence of Alfred or the emolumenls to be reaped from the possession of a chair of pure science. Now comes another very singular passage in relation to the early history of Ireland. It runs thus : ((The history of Christianity for seven centuries subsequent to the mission of the Patron Saint is mingled with a vast amount of legend. Indeed, to such an extent is this the case, that some have regarded this as the fabulous period of Irish history. We read so much of the extravagant in the num- berless lives of St. Patrick, as at times to question whether he was a real or imaginary man. » It is true that the Doctor does not assume on his own shoulders the whole responsibility of this statement; but I do not think I mis-interpret him when I say that his evident leaning towards it almost amounts to approbation. It is, nevertheless, a very serious charge, though happily it is utterly devoid of foundation. It is a base attempt to throw rudely over the brightest period of Ireland's life the dark mantle of fable, and surround with impenetrable mist the purest and holiest glories that ever a nation might boast jf. What I through the long lapse of seven cen- turies has there been no one found to record the deeds that illustrate our annals ? Has no historian's If) — 203 very have Fer- rclus. emar coii- fvorlvs boast- nd fit nenls pure ge in rails turicrf lint is ed, to have istorv. nuni- estioii m his t' this t him rds it rough It is a ghtest fahle, purest boast ■i ceii- rd the Drian's pen clearly and authentically traced through the course of ages the various |»hases of Irish history ? We call the fabulous periods of a history those times in which events are cloudc^d in the twilight of uncertainty, — those i)re-hisloiic ages, of wlu:di, as in the first stage of infancy, the people is scarce conscious of its existence. Ihit to extend this with regard to Ireland to the comparatively I'ecent date of 1172, is the deepest insult that could be thrown upon us. When such statements are made hv Canibrensis, or a few others who,' like the scrvum pecus men- tioned by Horace, follow blindly, if not maliciously, in his wake, we are not surprised; but, honestly, when men like Doctor Irvine give publicity to them, and partially concur in them, there is much to \tonder at. With regard to St. Patrick, 1 cannot, for the life of me, see how some very highly legendary accounts of his life can at all diminish our certainty of his existence. If such were the case, there is many a man to-day living whose flesh-and-blood reaUty we would be entirely justihed in doubting. We have the life of St. Patrick : the Doctor must have read it, and he knows that it bears as many marks of authencity about it as that of any other great man of his time. The date of his coming to Ireland, his works, his writings, are all established upon the firmest basis of authority; and Ihe extra- vagant legends which sneering malice, rather than a spirit of veneration, has connected with his life, can neither affect the realitv, nor lead us, as the «i 7 7 Doctor assures us, « at times to question whether he was a real or imaginary being.)) Next we have a passage in which are bound up" so many errors of various kinds, that the task of refuting all of them, though com[)aratively easy, would be extremely wearisome. I shall read it : — 204 — P'*' li- ^*«'* fit « It appears to be admitted that about 700 years after St. Patrick founded Christianity in Ireland, Henry 11. of England, with the sanction of Tope Adrian IV., who was a native of Wales, and known by the English name of Nicholas Breakspearo, in- vaded the island with the view of bringing ils inhabitants under the jurisdiction of the Romish See. In compliance with the Pontifical decree, and acting under the directions of a special Bnll for the purpose, Henry mustered his legions, and, crossing the Irish Channel, lie found the Island divided into five petty monarchies. * * * * One fact, which greatly facilitated the conquest of Ireland by King Henry II. deserves special attention. At this time Dermot McMurrogh was King of Leinstor, and, being amjxn of indomitable passions, he can-iod away the wife of Roderic Oroirc, one of the petty princes of the Island, which so aroused the indigna- tion of many of the people, that they resolved to avenge tlie disgraceful deed by the murder of the royal seducer. To escape the merited vengeance, Dermot fled to Wales, where he soon attracted the notice of King Henry, and was, of course, reported to the Welsh Pontiff at Rome as one most likclv lo serve the interests of the Pope and the British monarch in the contemplated invasion of Ireland. Nor did the project prove abortive ; for, by the aid of this royal refugee, Robert Fitzstephen and Maurice Fitzgerald brought 30 knights, 60 squires, and 300 archers, all skilled in the art of savage war, l)efore whose fearless assault the ramparts of Wexford fell ; and though this invasion was met and bravely resisted by Roderic O'Connor, at the head of thirty thousand men, who had heretofore stood upon the walls of Dublin, yet was it impossible to protect the country from the grasp of the determined invader. Ireland's capital fell beneath the sword of England's monarch ;.and the moment that the victor's flag was \ 205 — Iv to tisk and. idof irice 300 fore; fell ; vely lirty the t the Lder. kind's was X \ planted on the walls of Dublin, an edict was issued (lomauding a penny each from every family in the Island, in support of the Romish See, which tax has ever since l3een known by the name of Peter's Pence ! flistoi'iausof diilorent political and religious belief arc not agreed as to the part which the then Bishop of r»ome took in the matter of the iuvasiou of Ireland at this time. Most of our IBritish historians hold that the whole matter was planned by Pope Adrian, with a view of bringing Ireland under the jurisdiction of the Ptomish See.)) Let us now see to what extent the Doctor is I'iglit. It is, indeed, true that Henry the Second invaded Ireland: tlie Doctor need not have used here, through excusive scrupulousness, the dubitative fc n, « it appears to he admitted.)) It is equally true that intimately connected with the causes of the invasion was tlie heinous crime of the arch-traitor McMnrrogh ; but when Doctor Irvine llippantly asserts that the ruffian w^as, of course^ reported to Pope Adrian as an instrument likely to serve his ])urpose, and thus insinuates that he became an in- strument in the hands of the Pope, wherewith to work out his designs, he asserts that for which he caa offer no further proof than his own word, and wdiich shews an ungenerous desire to malign the character of the Pontiff, and engender liatred towards the exercise of Papal authority. The name of Pope Adrian IV. stands out in clear preeminence among those of the successors of St. Peter. Historians who have studied his reign and weighed his acts in the balance of just criticism, agree in extolling his integrity as a sovereign and his sanctity as a Christian. I defy Doctor Irvine to adduce, not only direct proof of his connivance with McMnrrogh, but to shew that one single act of his life was sullied by baseness or darkened by intrigue. He may, indeed, on the hypothesis that he really I IP- '■ K- t.} r -.20G — granted the Bull to Henry, have been deceived by the wily artifices and canting hypocrisy of the Norman prince ; but that he profited of his position to unjustly aggrandize the power of a khig to whose race he did not belong, is a heavy accusation which my reverend friend must substaiiLiatc, or stand convicted of false malignity. As to the au- thenticity of the Bull, I decline pronouncing any judgment. In the Bullarium it is given with the express annotation that it is taken from Cambrensis, which fact alone would render its genuineness extremely doubtful. But, in any case, its conditions were not fulfilled by Henry nor any of his succes- sors ; and, therefore, supposing it to be really au- thentic, its authority is annulled. This may, perhaps, be the proper place to remark the term used by Doctor Irvine when speaking of the seat of Pontifical authority. He invariably calls it the Romish See. Now, this is not its historical appellation ; it is rather apartizan term, and smacks of bigotry. Of cr ;irse, I do not hereby accuse the Doctor of narrow-mindedness; butmost undoubtedly the term Ilomish is not a component of courteous language : it is more abusive in its import than gentlemanly. But we now come to the account of the invasion. My learned friend mentions the arrival of Fitz- stephen and Fitzgerald with GO squires, 30 knights, and 300 archers. These, he tells us, being skilled in the art of savage warfare, took Wexford by storm, and that, notwithstanding their being met by 30,000 men, under Roderick O'Connor, the country came into their possession. Ireland's capital fell before the sword of England's monarch, who immediately im- posed a new and heretofore unheard-of tax, called Peter's Pence. Now, this is fearfully garbled, and, indeed, a most inaccurate account of the first invasion. Any one lark g of calls rical lacks fe the sion. Fitz- hls, dlled orm, 0,000 came e the y i^^" called most ^ one — 207 — unacquainted willi Irish liistory vvould most na- turally infer from it that tl-e subjugation of the whole Island v/as the work of a few huudred men. 1 may be told that in a lecture of an hour's length it is impossible to enter into minor details. I admit this ; but 1 hold that tlie Doctor could have given, in the same space, a more truthful account of the war, and which, besides being true, would be infi- nitelv more honorable to the country which he calls the land of his birth. Would it not, for instance, have been as easy to tell us that, in 1109, 1,000 men laid siege to Wexford, and that the city capitulated on honorable terms ? — that in 1170, notwithstanding a treaty signed bet- ween Roderick and McMurrogh, and by which the latter promised to bring no more Normans into the country, Strongbow w^as welcomed by the King of Leinster ? — that 500 prisoners were massa- cred near Waterford, and that the allied forces, amounting probably to l'i,000 men, marched on Dublin? — that the city, being unprotected, (there being then in it only a Danish garrison under As- tulph,) consented to capitulate ? — that while the ar- ticles were in the act of being signed, the enemy treacherously burst in on the ail'righted inhabitants and put them to the sword? — linally, that in 1171 Henry came, for the first time, to Ireland, with a large force, and received the submission of several Irish chieftains? It w^ould have been thus seen that the followers of FitzAlaurice did not achieve the conquest of the Island. Moreover, wo see no account of their being met by 30,000 men.; we have no account of the levying of the Peter's Pence, which, by-the-byc, had been long before known and levied in England ; nor can it be said that Ire- land's capital fell before the sword of England's monarch ; for, in the first place, Dublin was then the capital of Ireland, as it is now ; and secondly, r h-:: I* It, :v*:k '.»>■ ^1': M j-a?^; >.v.. fjs;'' ^' — 208 — it was not the sword of Englaiurs monarch that subdiiod it, since Strongbow acted in direct opposi- tion to tlio mandates of Henry. As to the whoh} rcsnltofthis first period of the Norman invasion, yon will allow me to read a passage from Mi*. Mc(iee, in which it is snmmcd np : Vol. I., folio 19 i : — « From Derniid's return nntil his reti-eat to Gong, seventeen years had passed away. Seventeen campaigns, more or less emn'getic and systematic, tlic Normans had fought. Mniister was still, in 1185 — when John Lackland made his memorable exit and entrance on the sccme — almost wholly in the hands of the ancient clans. Connanght was as yet without a single Norman garrison. Hugh de Lacy, returning to the government of Dublin, in 1 179, on Fitz-Aldelm's recall, was more than half JUbcrniclzcd by marriage with one of Roderick's daughters, and the Norman tide stood still in Meath. Several strong fortresses were, indeed, erected in Desmond and Leinster, by John Lackland and by de Conrcy, in his newly-won northern territory. Ardfinan, Lismore, Leighlin, Carlo w, Castledermot, Lcix, Delvin, Kilkay, Mayaooth, and Trim, were fortified ; but, considering who the Anglo-Normans were, and what they had done elsewhere, even these very considerable successes may be correctly accounted for without overcharg- ing the memory of Roderick with folly and incapacity. » We must now turn to the consideration of the inferences which the rev. lecturer has, with the keenest perception, drawn from a very unpreten- tious passage in the first volume of the late Mr. McGee's popular History of Ireland, — inferences which militate as strongly against all the known rules of logical deduction as they do against the expressed opinions of the iiuthor in question. And, indeed, were Mr. McGee still amongst us, I am of 209 — Ih.'iL pposi- vliol(^ ision, I Mr. uiUil massed rget'u* iinstc3r lo his ilniosl, I ail gilt prison- Bill of more )iio of stood ncleed, cklaiul r til e I'll larlow, h, and 1 10 tlio L done cccsses •cliarg- y and of ith the the pre ten- lite Mr. rences known ist the And, am of opinion LJiat tlie Doctor would not have nnderlakeii thns to exphiin liis meaning, through a salntary fear of drawing on himself one of those sevei'o (•astigations wiiich the late member for Montreal West knew so well how to administer. The passage in Mr. McGee's work runs thus (vol. I., pages 179 and 180): — « After spending a right merry Christmas with Norman and Milesian guests in abundance at Dublin, IJenry j)rocoeded lo that work of religious reformation under plea of which he had obtained the Ikill of Pope Adrian, seventeen years before, declaring such an expedition, under- taken with such motives, lawful and praiseworthy. Karly in the new year, by his desire, a Synod was held at Cashel, where many salutary decrees were enacted. These related to the proper solemnization of marriage ; the catechising of children before the doors of churches ; the administration of baptism in baptismal or parish churches ; the abolition of Ercnachs or lay trustees of church-property, and the imposition of tithes, both of corn and cattle. By most English writers this Synod is treated as a National Council, and inferences are thenee drawn of Henry's admitted powder over the clergy of the nation.)) • • After transcribing these lines, the rev. lecturer passes a well-merited encomium on the accuracy of language and appropriateness of expression which distinguished the author, and then goes on to say that : «0n this account the quotation from his excellent history which we have copied justifies the following conclusions : — First ^ That St. Patrick could not have held his commission to plant Christianity in Ireland from Rome.)) You see, then, that Dr. Irvine has quoted Mr. McGee, and drawn an inference from the quotation. You will, therefore, I trust, allow me the advantage if- i ,1, /:;■ ' ■v.. • *'. [*. I i^ m. — 210 — of quoting Mr. MoGoc also, and of drawing my inference. 1 quote from the same volume, pages 11 and 12: «If the year of his captivity was i()5 or iOG, and that of his escape and manumission seven years later (il2 or 413), twenty years would intervene hetween his departure out oi' the land of his bondage and his return to it clothed with the character and authority of a Christian Bishop. This interval, longer or shorter, he spent in qualifiying himself for Holy Orders or discharging priestly duties at Tours, at Lerins, and fuially at Rome. But always by night and day he was haunted by the thought of the Pag'i'i nation in which he had sjiont his long years of servitude, whose language he Jiad acquired, and the character of whose people he so thoroughly understood. The natural r(3trospections were height- ened and deepened by supernatural revelations of the will of Providence towards the Irish, and himself as their apostle. At one time, an angel presented him, in his sleep, a scroll bearing the superscription : ^ The voice of the Irish ; ' at another, he seemed - to hear in a dream all the unborn children of that nation crying to him for help and holy baptism. When, therefore. Pope Celestine commissioned him for this enterprise, ' to the ends of the earth, ' he found him not only ready, but anxious to under- take it. )) Hence, I, too, knowing Mr. McGee to be a careful writer, feel justified in concluding that St. Patrick did really hold his commission from Rome lo plant Christianity in Ireland. I, moreover, conchide that if the Rev. Doctor be right in his inference, Mr. McGee must be a very careless writer, since he contradicts in page 180 wdiat he had previously said in xjages 11 and 12; but the Doctor said that Mr. McGee is very careful in his writings ; therefore, Doctorj you are very careless in your conclusions, — ^311 — O! -eful )lant that Mr. he said Mr. [ore, ions. Ill relation to th'^ connexion l>et\veen the Irish Church and the Ciinrch of Rome, there an; incon- trovertihle proofs of its existence from the days of St. Patrick to the present time. I should he tempted to give them here, but I feci that it is foreign to my purpose ; liowever, in order that it may Jiot be said . that [ sliirked from the point, 1 hereby promise to furnish them at any time tht; Doctor m;iy think lit to call for them. For the present, I slicill merely I'ead you a letter written by St. Co: imbanus to the Pope in the seventh century: Ihivertv's, folio i'^i:— «Sanit Columbanus told tlH3 Pope * that although dwelling at the extremity ' of the world, all the Irish were disciples of SS. ' Peter and i*aul, receiving no other than the ' evangelical and a[iostolical doctrine ; that no ' heretic, or Jew, or schismatic, was to be found 'among them, but that they still clung to the ' Catholic faith as it was first delivered to them by ^ his (the Pope's) predecessors, — that is, thesuccessois ' of the holy apostles ; that the Irish were attached to ' the chair of St. Peter, and that although Rome ' ' was great and renowned, it was only on account ' of that chair it was so with them. Through the '• two apostles of Christ, ' he added, '• you are almost ' celestial, and Roine is the head of all churches, as ' well as of the world. '» , , , . ' -; For the present, I shall, therefore, content myself with citing one more passage from Mr. McGee, so as to fully exonerate him from the charge which his soi-disant friend attempted to establish against him : VoL I., folio IG : — '( The fifth century was drawing " to a close, and the days of Patrick were numbered. Pharamond and the Franks had sway on the Netherlands; Ilengist and the Saxons on South Britain ; Clovis had led his countrymen across the Rhine into Gaul ; the Vandals had established 212 m M I IheiuBelvos in Spain and Norlli Africa; llio Ostro- golli3 were supreme in Italy. The enipi^'c ol" bar- barism had succeeded to the empire of Polytheism ; dense darkness covered the semi-Christian countries of the old Roman empire, but happily daylight still lingered in the West. Patrick, in good season, had done his work. And as sometimes God seems to bring round llis ends, contrary to tlie natural order of things, so the spiritual snn of Europe was now destined to arise in the West, and return on its itght-bearing errand towards the East, dispelling, in its path, Saxon, Frankish, and German darkness, rntil at length it rellected back on Rome herself the light derived from Rome. » It is clear that, in Mr. McGce's idea, there was a connexion between the Roman and Irish Church. We now have to deal with the second conclusion taken from the passage quoted. It is nothing short of a huge, weighty rock, which, with unerring aim, the Doctor shies from his logical catapult at the bulworks of Rome ; or it might also be likened to the skilful thrust of a two-edged sword, which, severing the tie that unites Ireland and Rome, wounds both at the same time. I shall read you the passage : Secondly : « The annexation of Ireland to England is the work of the Bishop of Rome. But if the Bishop of Rome be infaillible^ then all the acts must be infaillibly right ; therefore, the union of Ireland to England is infallibly right, and to secK a repeal, either by political or military efforts, is infallibly wrong. And, on this account, it seems that the repeal agitation under the late gifted Mr. O'Connell and the more odious and disgraceful ruffianism of the Fenians, are as utterly antagonistic to the canon law of the Romish Church as to the constitution of Imperial Britain.)) This, if I might use a homely phrase, is decidedly « a good hit. » — 213 — land the Tiust land peal, libly the mell of anon n of Ledly « You Catholics,)) says the Doctor, « believe that all the Pope's acts are infallibly right. " « Now, the annexation of Ireland to England is an act of the Pope. ((Therefore, it is infallibly right, according to yon.)) This is crushing I The Catholic Church, the College of Cardinals, and a number of bishops, will never recover from this blow. As for the Pope, if he comes to hear of it, he will be covered with confusion. 1 shall leave the syllogism of the Doctor in all its compact solidity, and propose, as in the case of his inference, a syllogism of my own. Any man attempting "to speak on what he is entirely ignorant of commits an act of absurdity. Now, the Doctor evidently knows nothing about the Pope's infallibility; and yet he speaks on it, and draws inferences from it, and makes them up into huge balls, and fires them at his enemy. ' ' Therefore, the Doctor, in doing all this, has been, I am sorry to say, very foolish and very absurd. Probo minorcm. That he knows nothing about the privilege of infallibility is very evident ; for if it were otherwise, he could not, surely, be ignorant of the fact that this privilege, according to the teaching of our Church, only attaches itself to acts performed, as is said, ex cathedra. What is the meaning of the term ex cathedra ? The Pope is said to speak ex cathedra wlien presid- ing over a council, or on his own authority, but professedly acting as the visible head of the Church and the Vicar of Christ, addressing himself to all the faithful, in the name of the Blessed Apostles Peter and Paul, formally invoked, or in equivalent terms he solemnly decrees a definition of faith or morals^ , . . Tn such cases the acts of the Pope are said to be infallible, and his decisions are accepted as the decisions of the Holy Ghost. Whether Catholics — 214 — fM & V 1 W: be right or wong in this belief, is not now the question. I only wish to circumscribe the limits of the privileges of infallibility ; and from what I have said, it is evident that this Bull of Adrian IV., being only an act of temporal jurisdiction, is not, in the most distant manner, connected with the infallibi- lity of the Pope. Dr. Irvine should have known this ; he should have distinguished between dog- matic and disciplinary Bulls, — between acts of spiritual and temporal authority, before he attempted to fasten on the Vicar of Christ, as such^ the respon- sibility of the annexation of Ireland to England and the evils which it has caused to our country. The next conclusion drawn from Mr. McGee's words is very remarkable : Thirdly : ((The method of solemnizing marriage u\ the Irish Church, as instituted bv St. Patrick, and observed by his successors for 700 years, could not have been the Romish method. Why should the Synod of Cashel introduce a new marriage-law into the country, harmonizing it with the canons of the Church of Rome, if St. Patrick had already done so? Every one, in the least degree familiar with the marriage-law in Ireland since the famous Synod of Cashel, knows that marriage is regarded as a sacra- meyital vow, — that marriagegis, in fact, a sacrament. The inference, then, is, that from the time of St. Patrick until the time of Henry II. a marriage was not regarded as a sacrament by the Irish Church ; therefore, the patron saint of Ireland must have held views of the ordinance of marriage very different from those enjoined and promulgated by the Synod of Cashel.)) The Doctor says: ((The method of solemnizing marriage)) — that is, the ritual or ceremonial obser- vances — ((in the Irish Church, as instituted by St. Patrick, and observed by his successors for 700 years, could not have been the Roman method.» 2li5 — the 5 of avo ing the libi- )\VU iog- s oC pled pon- land 3ees ge Ml , and d not 1 the V into pf the done hthe iiod of sacra- ment, of St. ;e was lurch ; |e held 'erent >ynod InizAng obser- hy St. )v 700 !lhod.'> Now, just one question : How does the Doctor know that this ceremonial was observed faithfully for 700 years? lie told ns, a short time ago, that this was the fabulous part of Irish history, and now he is able to trace, all througli that time, the ceremo- . nies of marriage, and assert that they were the very same in 1172 as they had b len all "throngli to the days of St. Patrick. But, if there are records so accurate on this one point, there must be also re- cords on points of more general interest ; and if so, how can tliat period be the fabulous period of Irish history ? But to proceed : « Why should the Synod of Gasliel introduce a new marriage-law into the country, harmonizing it with the canon-law of the Church of Rome, if St. Patrick had already done so?)) Bear in mind that this law, of which the Doctor is speaking, relates to ceremonial observances, ac- co^'ding to his own words. But now he is going to make a leap : — « Every one in the least^degree fami- liar with the marriage-law in Ireland since the famous Synod of Gasliel, knows that marriage is regarded as a sacrair vital vow, — that it is, indeed, a sacrament.)) Here he is crouching for a spring : «The inference, then, is, that from the time of St. Patrick until the time of Henry II. marriage was not regarded as a sacrament bv the Irish Church.)* There he's off. From the ceremonies of marriage he has leaped headlong into the matter of the sacra- ment itself, when, after a short struggle, he ris^s in triumph to the surface, bearing his inference aloft: « The Synod of Cashel made a change in the cere- monies of marriage ; therefore, marriage was not regarded as a sacrament for 700 years in Ireland !)» Really, ladies and gentlemen, the Doctor, besides being an enthusiast, is about the most reckless per- son, with regard to his logical reputation, that it has been my privilege ever to have met with. n — 216 — L*. itvr' 1 will now lay before you llie true stale oi" the question. The first canon or enactment orders that marriages shall not be contracted within the pro- hibited degrees. This, as you see, relates to dis- cipline, and has no relation to dogma whatever. If abuses had crept in, by the intermarrying of persons too closely connected by relationship, the Synod v/as performing a duty in prohibiting it; and in doing so tliev made no alteration oi innovation concerning mai-riage as a sacrament. This is clear. But, even on tJie supposition that they had declared the law concerning the dogma of the sacrament, would it follow nccesir-ai'ilv that thev had introduced a change? Might it not be a reaflir- mance of a law alreadv known ? I find tlie following passage in Vi\ McCiee's history. Sj)eaki!ig of the state of things in Ireland previous to the Norman invasion, he says: Vol. 1., folio, 139 : — ((The attention of Rome was thoroughly aroused, and immediately after the appearance of the Life of Saint Malachy, Pope Eugenius III. — himself a monk of Glairvaulx — despatched Cardinal Papiron,witli legantine powers, to correct abuses and establish a stricter discipline. After a tour of great pai-t of the Island, the legate, with whom was associated Gilla-Criost, or Chris- tianus, Bishop of Lismore, called the great Synod of Kelts, early in the year after his arrival (March, 1152), at which simony, usury, concubinage, and other abuses, were formally condemned, and tythes were first decreed to be paid to the secular clergy.)) Now, if we follow Doctor Irvine's method of reasoning, we must come to the conclusion that, from the fact that enactments were made against those vices, they were not regarded as such from the time of St. Patrick until the year 1152. The next conclusion is as follows : Fourlhly : «The method of catechizing children, — 217 — -ere oi- l-hat, Linst from iren. it seeiijs, was diiforent, from the days of St. Patrick to the Synod of Cashcl, from what it has been since. As it appears that the Synod of Gashel enjoined that children shoukl be catechized at the door of the I'arish Church, the inference is that prior to that lime they wore catechized in some other pLace.ii " * alienee, again, we reach the inference that St. Patrick must have established in Ireland a faith which was not Romish, but essentially different in its ordinances from that of Rome.)) Here, at last, is a fair conclusion. And how forcibly it impresses itself on our minds ! How strongly the Doctor has brought it forth, notwithstanding the depth of cogitation and the long study w'hich it must have cost him ! The children w^ere to be catechized at the door of the Parish Church ; hence, prior to that time they must have been catechized somewhere else ! Does it not remind you forcibly of the deep observation made in tlio slory we used to repeat in childhood ? " There was an old woman who lived on the hill, And if she's not gone, she's living there still." After the important discovery just mentioned, the Doctor proceeds to inquire where that « other place)) could possibly be located. He declares that charity will not allow him for a moment to suppose that the children were catechized in the church, — tbough, indeed, I cannot understand why he should 1)0 so scrupulous in this case. Presently, remem- liering that the « Old Culdees » of Scotland used to cathechizo in the family circle, he thinks it is most reasonable to suppose that the Irish followed the same method ; therefore, he says, St. Patrick musl- have established a faith in Ireland which cssm^ta//// differed in its ordinances from the Romish faith. One word about those « Old Culdees.)) Mi". Mc- Gee savs : 10 ^ m ?^; — •218 — Vol. 1., folio 24 : — aTlio growth of lona was as the growth of the grain of niustard-sood mentioned in tlie Gospel, even during the life of its founder. Formed i)y his leaching and example, there went out from it apostles to Iceland, to the Orkneys, to Northum hria, to Man, and to South Britain. A hundred monasteries in Ireland looked to that exiled saint as their patriarch. His rule of monastic life, adopted either from tlie far East, from tlie recluses of the Thehaid, oi' Irom his great contemporary, Saint l^enedict, was sought for hy chiefs, ])ards, anrl converted iJrnids, (Clients, seeking direction from his wisflom, or protection through liis power, \ver(' constantly arriving and departing iVom his sacred isle. His days weni divided l)etween manual lahoi- and tli(^ stndv and transcrihing of tlie sacred Sci'ip t) CD i tnres. 11(5 and his discijiles, says llie Venerahln Bede, in whose age lona still nourished, ' neither thought of nor loved an^tliing in Ihis world. ' Some writers have represent(]d ColumhkiU's Culders (which in English means simply ' Servants of God') as a married clergv. So far is this from the trulli, that we now know no woman was allowed to land on the Island, nor even a cow to he kept there ; foi", said the holy IMshop, ' wherever there is a cow, there will ho a woman : and wiierever there is a woman, there will be mischief.' )) Let the inference go hy. I will certainly not insult your common-sense by refuting it. If, from the fact that an enactment was made relating lo the place in whicli children were to be catechized, it can be iustlv inferred that rrlinion was thereby tl iJ »/ I,* changed, I must, confess that I know nothing about the rules of logic or the requirements of faith. But this enactment was of a totally different import from that which the Doctor has given it, as mav be seen by consiilting the canons decreed by the Synod of Gashel, contained in the Collection of Councih. Ut — 219 110 1 Ifroin lizod, Irehy Lbout But roni Iseen ol" The next couclubion has reference lo the Eircnaclis. These are the Doclor's words : « FifthUi : It seems that tlie Synod of Gashel enact- ed a law abolisliing Eirenaclis^ or Liy trustees of church proptM'ty. Such being tha case, we are conducted to th(; conclusion that from the time of St. Patrick till the time of Pope Adrian IV. the Irish Church managed all her property by a lay trusteeship. * " * But as this was not a Romish practice, it follows that the Irish Church, during that period, be she vvhat slie may, could not liave been Romish. » The Doctor says that the Irish Church managed (ill her property by a lay trusteeship. This is an error, and I am quite at a loss to know how he could have fallen into it. It cannot be from his having read the Canons of the Synod, for the enact- ment alluded to runs thus : «In the case of a murder by laymen and compo- sition with their enemies, clergymen who are the relations of such are not to pay part of the fine.)) And further : a All ecclesiastical lands and property connected witlv ihcni siiall be exempt from llie reactions of laymen. » Now, d'^es it not strike you that if the Doctor had just read jver this enactment he would have un- derstood Mr. McGee's meaning, and have thus saved himself a deal oi unnecessary troublo, whilst shun- ning a very pali.M!)!e -j'ror? On the two fm: . oGn':lusion5 I will not dwell at nny length; foi' ' do not — I cannot— think the Doctor was serio) s in delivering them. He infers that i',e ^loctrine relating to baptism could not, by reas r. of nnother Canon of the Synod of Cashel, have i' />n identical in the Irish and Roman churches. : Now, it is knowi-. 'iial from the foundation of Christianity liaptisn) lias been regarded as a sacra- l\ t«.«; 220 i^c inciit bv GlirisLic'iiis oT ovorv dciinniiiiaLioii. \V(3 know, too, thcit duriii^:^ the fiTth and sixth centuries, and even up to the twelflh centni'v, Irish mission- aries were abroad on the conlin(Mit jis teachers of the Christian relii^ion ; that the\' were received in Rome, and even commissioned l)y the Popes to preach and teach. ' '. , But if Ihev dill'ered fi-oni Rome concern inpr tlic* very fundamental doctrin(} of baptism, can it b(* supposed that I^ome wonhl have thus eui ployed them ? Would thev not have boon treated as lien^ tics? We should have some aiU'mints of this difler- ence in dogma, as we have of the disciplinary ditl'erence concerning Easier and the tonsure. Yet, not one word has ever ])i'en heard on the point un- til Doctor Irvine thought propiu* to infer it. We must, therel'ore, look on this inference as having the same weight as his [)revious ones, and pas.-? on to another subject, — merely referring him to th<^ text of the Canon, from a slight study of which he will, no doubt, become convinced of his error. ; He fhially assures us that all the evils rising out of the tithe svsteni in Ireland must be ti'aced to ths court of Rome, throwing, of course, on Mr. McGee's shoulders the greatest part of the responsibility of the assei'tion. This might be considei'ed extremely childish, were it not evidently malignant. A Synod of Catholic Bishops decree that their people shall pay tithes to their lawful and acknow- ledged pastors, and those on whom the law is im- posed accept it as fair and equitable. But some time after, a uew^ church is forcibly established in the midst of this same people, and though not re- ceived as an exponent of the true doctrine, the high hand of authority decrees that it must be supported by the people, that they must pay heavy tithes for the sustenance of its ministers. -*- The case comes under the coL>nizance of Doctor . I :, ■ ^ i : ■ } 00 1 It .1 . of V ill re- ""li lor Ii'viiK' ami lio savs : — « Mv IViuiids, voii anj iiol salis- lied Willi lliis new iinpO:ution ; yet, do iiolaskmo lo jironoiinco jnd.qniciit on iL for I \vill iu-'UIkh' coiti- moiid nor roiidomii it. All 1 will sav is, Ihat lli<' laiill — ir faiill llicrt; jio — niiisL ]>n allril)iil('d lo lloni(\)> And wilh lliis very consolin,^- obs(?rvalion ho lols lli(* inallor drop. Yet, 1 will veiilurc^. lo assert llial if ihi' posilioiis were reversed, the same lleveroiid Doelor would not display siicli deep- sealed e(iuaninnly. I have now teiaiiiiiali'd this pari of my sohjeci, a.nd am very hap])y al h.i\'inL;- doim so, for lam h'cn lo confess ihal lln; Doclor's inferences are some- limes very tryini;' on Ihc: l(:m[)(.M'. It is (iiiile a merilorions acl of patiinicij lo read iheiu liirongh v.'ilhont beiiii^ somewhat ruffled. , ., - Th(n"e is a story told of an Irishman who requoslcd an Italian ori^an-.grinder loplay uThe I}oyno\Valer.» The artist consented, and, having set his keys, hogaii to wind out the notes of thai very popular replii^d the other, «hnt it was only lo see liow much of it I conhl sland. » I might almost say as much in the present in- stance, and I fear I could not have stood the Doctors logic much longer. .:•■... Scrionslv, it is to be deplored that Dr. Irvine should have llius allempled lo torture the jjlirases and disfigure tlie meaning of a man whose voice is silent — in llie silence of the lomb. it is lo be deplored that, calling Mr. McGee his friend, he sliould have thus laid at the door of his memory con- elusions against which that friend would have been the first to protest. Ah ! Mr. McGee v/as often told '^1 /^ V 'V IS: n by tlioso who worn Iriin to liiiii in the dark days of misfortune that a smiling face and a tlnltorin^- tongue were no indications of lieartfcU amity We liavo here a sad proof of it. The revd. lecturer says: « Mr. McOoo was an accurate writer. Mr. McGee weighed all Jiis con- clusions, and Mr. McGee was my friend. 13nt knowing and feeling this, I do not hesitate puhlicly to advance that from his writings may he fairly drawn the following conclusions : — (The Church of Rome was the guilty cause of the annexation of Ireland to England. The early Chui'ch of Ireland had no connexion with the Iloman Church.)) Bnt is this friendship ? Gould there be anything more damaging to Mr. McGee than this? If the Doctor had boldly said that the facts and appreciations covered by his celebrated inferences were taken from White, as I think they are, or from some other ejusdcm generis^ though I should diilx'r with him in his opinion, I would not blame him for following them ; but when he endeavors to connect the name of Mr. McGee with them, I say that lie not only misinterprets the historian, but maligns the man. One man took away his life in the still hour of night; but you. Doctor Irvine, \\\ the light of day, attempt to blast his fair name and hkickcn his reputation in the eyes of Iiis fellow-countrymen and co-religionists. Oh! frienship, how many crimes have been com- mitted in thy name, since Judas hrst imprinted the false kiss on our Saviour's cIumK- ! After closing his remarks rehiUng to Mr. McGee's work. Doctor Irvine, imdor li).^ title of Rcvolii- tionaryy turns to that period of liisli history which is connected with the downfall o'' the Stuarts and the sanguinary wars that it entaiird on our country. With his strictures on that dyna.tj, and his very ungracious allusion to the '^''••^ff' -a nation, I liave lee s will- hich and hlry. verv liave iiolliin^- U) do; I shall, Llicriddre, [ja^^s it over, and. merely signalize rorc.oumuMit tlu; folluwinj^' passa^(» : (( U has J)()eii truly said thai I'iii,nlaiid noodod soiik^ foreiga aid to susUiiii her; tJiu wasted rnsourcos oT th(» (}in|»iro ro(]uirod Ihc liusbandiiig skill orsomo foreii;-!! and satiacious (jconoiuist to chock l•o^'al cxtravaganoo ; and all the (jualitios v<3(iuisifo to meet tho cmorgency woro found in William, Princo oi" Orange, the man who led the 'Prentice Boys' to shut the gates of Derry against a temjjost ol" iron and lead, and before whose noble daring .lames lied from the i^'oylc to the J3oyne, where lie was overtaken by the man of ' immortal memory,' and after a single (Migagement bigotry and tyranny were cloven down, ;nid (he glorious (uonstitntion of IGG8 ratified, wliich secured civil and religions libin'ty to every subject (d tlie British empire. It is wortliy of special notice I hat whilst William drove the Stuarts from the ilirone of Kngland, he nev(}r souglU to denude the Irish Cell of Ids civil and religious liberty. » Now, tlicre is something so inaccurate in these statements, that it becomes a ([uestion wbetber Doctor Irvine has ever taken the trouble of reading this part of Irish history. Bigotry and tyranny cloven down bv the Wil- liamites, forsooth I The rights of the Irishman secured by the campaign ^vhich ended at Limerick ! But, in the name of iiistorv, v.diat can the Doctor mean ? The riglits of liberty were jj/'om/iY'i/ to the Irish people by [he treaty sworn to at Limerick ; but Limerick is called « the city of the broken treaty. » The ink wab scarce dry on the parchment when it, was torn to shreds and trampled under foot by the brutal ascendancy. Biaotrv and tvrannv were cloven down, you say. No, sir ! freedom and equal iustic(! and disinterested loyally were cloven down, Tor these were the- princi[des upheld by the Irish w OOA Catholic army ; Liuise wore llic wnnls eiiiblazuiKHl on llieir l)aiiii(.'i', aiirl it was that ban nor that wont down in hatllc, Ihonuli it sank not in disp;raco. " Oil our sitlc is virtue .-iinl Krin; On ihoiiH is tliu Saxon and guilt." Liborlv socnrt.'tl ! 'rvj-annv clovon down 1 IjishMi to th(> woi'jIs ol" Mr. Mcdt.M^ : Vol. ^^>, Inl. GUI :-(( 111 l(;*.)j Lord Capol optnujd tho soooiid Ii'ish l*arliainont, snmmonod J)y Kin,i( William, in a sj)0(M h in whiidj ho assnrod his dolif^htod andilors that tin^ Kin.u: wasintont upon a linn sottlomont of Iroland njirui a Pj-otostant iiito- rost. Larp-o snpplios worc^ at once volod t() His Majesty, and tho Uoiiso of Coninions thon pro(.oed(3d to the aj>pointin(Mit ol' a conimittiM3 to cr)nsi(hn' what penal laws wore; alr(\'idy in i'oi'co a,L;ainst the Catholics, — not i'ov lln; pnrpose of I'ejx^'ilinij: thorn, bat in order h) add to their nnnibm'. 'I'lu^ jtrineipal penal laws then in existmiee win'o : (( 1. An act snbjectin.i:,^ all who upheld Ih*' jnrisdi*^- tion of the See of Konio' to tin? ])enalties of a prr- Diunirc^ and ordernig* the oath of snpreniaey to be a (jnalilication for oflice of every kind, for holy orders, and for a degree in the university ; « 2. An act for the uniformity of Coninion l^rayer, imposinj;- a line of a shilling on all who should absent themselves from places of worship of the I'lstahlished Church on Sundays ; « 3. An act allowing the Chaticellor to name a guardian to the child of a Catholic; « 4. An act to prevent Catholics from hccoming private tutors in families without license from Ihe ordinaries of their s(?veral parishes and taking the oath of supremacy. <( To these the new Pariiameut add(3d : 1. An act to deprive Catholics of the means of educating their children at home or abroad, and to render them oo*; he !m iiicap.'iblo of hoiii;; ^;ii,'in]iaiis of Ihcir own or ,iny oMior persoifs rliildroii ; 'J. An act to disarin thl* Catholics ; and, 3. Aiiollior to haiiisli all IIk^ Catho- lic priests and [indates. Ilavin;!,^ tlms vif)lated the treaty, tln^y j^M'avely hron,L;ht in a hill ^ to confirm ' the Articles of Linnn-ick. ] ' Tlio very title of the '• l)ill ' savs Dr. Cooke Tavloi' ' contains evidence of ^ its injnsti<.'(;. ' It is styled, ' A hill lor the confir- ^ nialion of aiiicles ' ( not tfif articles) ' made at the * snri-endiM' of Iameri(dv. ' And the preamhli} shews Ihat the litth^ word l/m was not accidentally omit- t(Ml. It rniis tlms: ^ That tli(3 said articles, or .s'o •• much of fhcni as nunj consist trif/i Ihr safely nnd '■ ivjifarc of ijovr Mdjcsiijs suhjcrls in these Kinijdons^ may he conlirnied,' he.)) And it must ]>e hoi"iH3 ill mind Ihat those odious penal enactments cannot lie clas*iod anion^^ tinj acts of inconsideratii cruelty whndi sometimes sully the lirst lliish of triumiih. Tliey were a return to tin* past; they were a new, a stronger manifestation of tliat systematic, cold-blooded persecution which had previously reigned, and which was to increase in intensity as years rolled on, grindiui,' down the people into hopeless impotence, or goading them on to rebellion, so that an excuse might be found for the imposition of more oppressive laws. This would hardly be believed in our times, when, thank God, the recurrence of such things is an im- possibility. It is, nevertheless, true that the people were sometimes excited to revolt, in order to justify a harsh or unjust measure which had been resolved on. I again quote from Mr. McGee : < • ' - Vol. 2, folio 096: — « It is no longer matter of assertion merely, but simple matter of fact, that the English and Irish ministers of George III. regarded the insurrectionary movement of the United Irish- men as at once a pretext and a means for effGcting -2-2G $ m i a^v' 5f Lit: ;i Itigislalivo union beUveeii tlic two cuiuitrios. Loid (lamden, tb.o Viceroy who succeeded Lord Fitz- williani in Marcli, ITO^^witli Mr. Pelliam as his GhieF Secretary, in a letter lo liis relative, the Hon. lloJjen Stewart, afterwards Lord Castlereagli, announced this policy, in unmistakeable terms, so early as 1793 ; and all the ollicial correspondeni^e pnljlislied of late years, concerning tlial period of British an'l Irish history, estahlislie, the fart lii^yond the possi- l)ility of denial. ((Such being tlie (lesiijii it was neither the ^^■isll nor the interest of the Ciovernment that Ihe insur- rection should be suppressed unless the Jrishi con stitution eould be "Xtincuished w'th it. 'j'o th-d, {^id Ihev proceeded in the ( oer-dve lea"islation d»^- scribed in ci previous chapter : to tiiat (;nd tliey arifie'! witli irrespunsib!e*]"nver tii.; military r)ticei"s and the oligarchical magisti'acy ; with th:d- view tliey ({uartered those yeomanr\ .'ev;In}ents wlucli wei'*^ ]^nov/n to be coniposeil of ()rangemon, on i\io \vre\- <;iied peasaritry of the most C-atholic counties, wliilc tlie corps in wiiich Cat!inlics or United Jrisumen -^ ei-i^ most numerous were serit ovc^' to England, ii' ex- (diancfc lor Scotch fencibles and Welsh cavalrv. 'i'h" outrages comraitted bv all lliese volunteer troons, 'J)ut above ail by the Oi'an.ae vcomanrv of thocoun- lry, were so monstrous that Ihe j^MJlant and huuuuiu Sir John Moore oxcJaimecl ; Mf ! ^^Tre .'in rrishmaii 1 would be a rebel ! ' > 1 shall, for the present, say no nioi'o on thi^5 un- pleasant subject into which [ have been drawn bv the unblushing assertions of my reverend friend, save to remark that if, as he telh us, the sun ol lilierty rose in l()88, it shed no effulgenco over imhappy L'cland ; its bloodstained orl) was, lo hei- inhabitants, but an object of terror and dismay. The Doctor now directs his attention to the educn- tional and moral dej;jarinient, and with his usual love ^s, by nci, ol VI 'I' for conclusions, lhou.i;li without tVio slightest effort to be urbane, states lliat llie Protestant porliou o\' the population is ^ar snpiM'ioi\ in learning and moral training, to the ('ai]n)lies. These are his words: — «In tin' l^j-ovinee of UIsIim' there are 3'j49 day-schools, and in Connanght there are only [^)il\ day-schools. In Ulster th(n'e are 'JOSH S.d)bath-schools. with '21)0,000 pupils. In (.'onmnuglit there are 1)J0 Sabl)alh-srhools, with SOO children, chieily Presl)yterian. 'j'hns it a[)peai's ih.'d Tister, with a territory and [lopulatiuu xcvy little larger than (lonnaught, has twenty times as many schools ! In Ulster there are io7 I-n^iscopal Ministers, 507 Presbyterian Ministers, 1 io AhMhodist, ov 1 1 10 in all, while there are 370 Roman (.'.athdlic clergynn-n. In Connanght, again, there are l.Vi J'^piscopat, IS Methodist, seven ]*r(^sbyterian, and 'M'r2 lloinan (^.athoiic clergymen : that is, in IHster Iht; lioman ('athiOlic cleriiiv are to the Presl)\ !(M'ian as !-.7(') !<» .^G/, while in Connanght the ratio is as 3.)"2 to 7. Yet there are (wo acres in Ulstei* under cnitivalion to one in Connanght, trel.tle the amount ot live- stock, six-times as m.any day-schools, and li\(' hundred times less crime in the Northern [>rovince than we find in Iha'^, of the South.)) Now, I have followed the rtn*. lecturer over tin- grounds of liistorv with readv williuLiness, and I shall be happy to meet him (here again, if circums tances should require it ; lait Vxhen to struggle against him I must r\ni the risk of wounding the feelings of my Protestant lellow-citizens, 1 expe rience no desire for the fight ; and if I answer his challenge, I protest that I do so with exirenn? repug- nance. A sentimeiU of kindly feeling exists betwecni the Protestants and Catholics of our good old city, and has manifested itself with genial warmth on many occasions ; religious differences are jiot allowed to uiar the harmony of our social inter- course ; and mav it ever be so! 228 — I IV I will lint, Llioi'tiforc. in coiiiicsy lo many kind. Protoslanl IViondswho havo dono mo tlic honoi* of assisting li(3i'o to-niglir, make any all(3mpt to conruto the Doctor on this i)oint, rurthci* than to kiy before von all a statement wliicli mav bo i'onnd in « Cham- bers's Miscelkmy,;' a Scottish pnlilication. vok v.. in tlie article « Ireland n : '(The total population ol' Ireland in 18(')1 was 5,704.54)) ; ol' whom -4,505,4 1 4 were liornan Catholics, say 78 per cent, of the whole, and 1,29'2.8I1) non- (^atholics, sny 22 per cent, of tlic whole. Taking the number of pupils attending the national schools, we iind that ^SfN^OG were Catholics, (;4.r,8(') Presby- terians, 31.717 Kpiscopalians, and 3402 belonging io various denominations.)) Hence, the total number of pujiils was 5SU.012; and since the Catholic pupils numbered 480,201*. we have an average of 82 Catholic children out of every linndred attending school, v.'hich exceeds the Catholic [lercentage of the v.diole population. Again, comparing the Catholic population A\ilh the Catholic pupils, wo liave an average of about 10 percent.; and making a similar comparison witli regard to iion-Catholics, we have a litrh* less than 8 per cent, going to school. But, without establishing any comparison between the dilferent parties. I think that the proi)ortion of Catholic children attending school goes far to prove that they have no desire to remain in ignorance. There are schools in almost every parish ; the clergy are untiring in their exertions in the cause of education ; .*md if there be any locality unprovided, the cause may ])e traced to extreme poverty, for which it were ungenerous to upbraid them. As lo the tillage of the land, I am not sufficiently acqnainted with agricultural matters to give an enlightened opinion on it ; luit 1 fancy that Catholic farmers are just as industrious and as intelligent as 000 (if 'o r to liy an t as Protestants of the same class ; moreover, in the case of Gonnaiiglit, T have been told that it is in many lilaces marshy, and that in .c:eneral the soil is ])etter adapted for pasture-lands than for cultivation. It is not, indeed, fair, on the ■\vhole, to compare Connanght with Ulster ; for the popalalion of the latter is double that of the former, whilst the posi- tional advantages of Ulster are infinitely greatei'. I shall not detain you any longer on a subject with which a great many of you are better acquainted than I am ; but before concluding, I beg permission to make a few remarks on a suggestive and impor- tant statement which the Doctor has merely ghanced over, lie says : ((Strange to say, from 1848 to 1855, no less than £7,500,000 sterling was sent from. tli(! United States alone, to sustain in and carry out of Freland the friends and relations of lho?(^ who had already emigrated from its shores.)) Now, this one fact is worth a whole column of statistics on ednca- lion and moral training. The best and noblest (education is the education of the heart ; one ot" the ])est proofs of good moral ti-aining in the child is the love he has for father and mother, for it rarelv subsists without being accompanied by many kin- dred virtues. But who were those who, in seven years, sent as many millions sterling home to Ireland ? I do not hesitate to say it : they were, with very fewexcejv lions, the Irish Catholic sons and daughters of Irish Catholic parents. And whence did they gather these immense sums ? They were the proceeds ol' honest industry ; they were lioardings from scanty salaries, and the fruits of many deprivations. But they were more than that : tliey were high testi- monials of moral worth, both in parents and chil- dren ; they were the natural outpourings of that warm ailection and unbounded generosity which had its root deep down in their noble Irish hearts. And — 230 p. because their acts give the lie to the defamers of Irish character ; because they have given us reason to be proud of them ; because they have done thai which is just and meritorious in tlie sighl of heaven, — I say, may the Almighty God pour down His choicest blessings on them, whether living O!- dead ! Ladies and gentlemen, I feel that I have ah'eady trespassed too far on your kind attonlion ; ;iU(l as there are limits to all tilings here below, even to the exercise of the sweet virtue of patience, I am admonished that, were it but for my own sake, I must soon close this lecture, already too long by half. J will, therefore, allow myself but one woi'd in conclusion. I repeat v.hat I said at the outset : 1 am sorry for having been, in a measure, obliged to appear on tliis occasion; I am sorry that, being a Catholir jiriest, 1 felt called upon to publicly contradict h Protestant clergyman ; but as there is no champion- ship at stake, 1 trust that both lectures Avill be viewed solely as a literary quarrel between two sin dents of history. The Revd. Dr. Irvine spoke on Ireland probaloly because he loves Ireland ; but I love Ireland, too ; and thinking that the Doctor treated the object of his affection in rather a rough manner, I thought I would just let him know that I was not pleased with him ; so the upshot of it all was a brace of very long lectures, and in my case, I fear, a very tin*- some one. However, they are both sealed and delivered now, and there is an end to our quarelling, unless the Doctor vouchsafes a reply, in which event, I suppose, you will have to assist at two more. But, be this as it may, I hope that no ill-feelings shall arise out of this action, and sincerely disavow any intention of offending. if, before retiring, I might offer an advic«, I — n I — •In hi ',r' '''°*'' amongst you w]io lav claim lo lush b r h or parentage : love deoplv an. well that n"' ft '^"d beyond the seas; cherish her tradition M g t 10 music ol her songs ; read her historv-thc tiue history of her hy-gono glories and Wei-lit^ grievances; and in relation to those grievan'e. niany ol which have been removed, some of which" loiit to be outspoken and frank. Wc must not fear lelanu la the full enjoyment of Treedom, and tie. la d cleansed from the unsigluly remains of a once svould seeK- treason in that wish, or disiovaltv in ils '■-^r'.■oss!on, ,s only worthy of the silence of disdain : If ^""r *'' J"''^fV"^-S to your frlcnas vo,i are 1,u,- • -^u I tl.e tribute most liigh to ,, head thixt is r,n li ifl'ivn trom.a Ic.irt that Im-es lib, ity, tor :■ ■' ' p ■■."' APPENDIX. IL'NlillAI- SERVICE OF THE HEV. Mil. DOIIEllTV. (1) On Thursday, i?3rJ May, 187-2, all that wasiiioiLal <)(' the gifted youug divine, Rev. V. J. Dolierty ; ul" the brain so luil of lively wit and repartee ; of the tongnr so eloquent and entrancing; of the hand that gui(led ihctt pen so facile, — all were returned to niollier-earth amidst those marks of respect whicli humanity delights in paying to the memory of de[)ai'ted tVieuds. The funeral left the Presbytery of St Roch's at half-past nine, attended by an immense concourse of citizens. The arranQ-enuMits. under the control of Mr. Marcoux,were perfect; and tlie attention of Captains Voyer and lleigham, in detailing a number of policemen to preserve order, was the subject of commendation on all sides. Immediately following the body were the relatives and friends of the deceased, succeeded bv I lie members of the St. Patrick's Institute, who wore crape ou their arms, and who mustered in large numbers to pay their last tribute of respect and love to him wdio had presided over them as their President, and to whom they wei'e so largely indebted for many evenings of amusing and, at the same time, instructive intercourse. Thi'ough the kindness of the Rev. Mr. (^barest, the Cure^ these gentlemen were provided with seats in front of the Sanctuary. Arrived at St. Roch's Church, which, from lloor to ceiling, was heavily draped in black, the body was met at the door by a large concourse of clergy- men, presided over by the Rev. Mr. Charest, who intoned the Miserere and other psalms peculiar to ( ' ) Written by one of his many friends. o 534 tlio occ.'iftiuii : Jil'lcr which it v\arT nMiiovcd [o the Sanctuary, and ph'icod, as is usual in the case ol' dccoasod clorgynion, with the head towards the Altar, attended by llev. Dr. liOuis II. ]*aquct, Rev. Messrs. Neville, V. Legare, Maguire, Lei)age, and Marceau, as pall-bearers. Solemn High Mass was I hen celebrated by the Ven. Vicar-deneral Cazeau, Wax. Messrs. Tlamondon and Rev. Dr. 1^. Paquet a(;ting as Deacon and Sub-Deacon, respectively — the chanters being Rev. Messrs. Roy, Sirois, Godbout, and Audette. and Rev. Mr. Lessard master of reremonies. Amongst the clergymen present were Rev. Messrs. Bolduc, Bonneau, Drolet (St. Micliel), Rouclier, llamelin, Lemieux, and llarkin. The precarious state of the health of the Rev. Mr. McGau - I'an, coupled with the inclement weather, prevented his attendance. Flis Grace the Archbisliop wns absent at St. Anne's on business. During the Mass, voluntaries were sung by members of the choir. At the conclusion of the Mass, the Libera was also sung by the choir in parts ; but previous to this. Father Cazeau adressed those present, lie said, in substance : ((Not long S!n(^e the parishioners of St. Rochwere called upon to mourn tlie loss of one of their priests, the Rev. Mr. Catellier. who had devoted the fifteen vears of his sacerdotal life to their service. To-dav Ihey wen^ again called upon to weep over the tomb of Patrick Doherty, — of one who, thougli only com- paratively a short time amongst them, had left an impression that he was sure would be ever precious !o tliem. A few vears ago the deceased had been enabled to v sit Europe ; to go to Rome ; to throw liimsolf at ih.^ I'eecof the Holy Father; and, above all, iL. tread those sacred spots which liad witnessed the life on earth of our Redeemer, and yvhich bad been jKHlewcd with His sacred blood. A native of Cana- dr.. he nad also l)eeri able to vi«it the place so dear — 235 to him, Ihu liuid of \i\% i'alhurs, luiaiiLirul iM'iii, which liad so faithfully and so heroically kept th(3 faith. Assiduous in tlie discharge of his duties in the confessional, ho ahandoned it onlv when he could not help doing so ; delicate in health, lu) could not be kept out of the pulpit, where his persua- sive eloquence never failed to entrance his hearers and to produce abundant fruit. An Irishman, he loved his French fellows-Catholics as he did his own countrymen, and for many a long day will his loss be remembered by both. 'I he corn w'as, however, ready for the sickle ; and Providence, in His own inscrutable ways, had thought proper to call him away, — and it was not for us, mortals, to question Ihe decree. He died in the glorious month of Mary, and there could he no doubt that he was now enjoying the reward of tlie faithful servant ; but as even the just have cause to tremble, he would conclude by imploring the prayers of his hearers for their deceased friend. » The very reverend gentleman, who, many limes during his address, seemed to be d<3eply atfected by his theme, then said he would like to say a few words to his Irish friends, whom he saw present in such vast numbers ; he would v.'i^h to repeat in English what he had just said in I'^rencli, were he not deterred by his want of sulhcient knowledge of the former. He would, therefore, content himself by expressing his sympathy with the Irish people of Quebec in i\iQ great loss they liad sustained, and of assuring them that in this, the hour of theii* grief. they had the deepest sympathy of their luench co rrdigionists. The funeral procession then reformed, .uiil the body \vas conveyed to tiie chapel of the Ursuline Convent, where, after the lAbcva had been sung in a most toucliing manner by the good Sisters. Very lie v. Mr, Ci;/f^.*ri presid'ni:-. asKist«^n] bv 230 — 1{«3V. Messrs. lU'audet, and A luh'lle as Dcacuii and Bnb-Deacon, it wms interred on the Gosfud i-idu ol" the Sanrtnary. All tln3 stores in St. Jos(^}ili street, as well as many of those in the U[)ner Town wIkmh; the ])rocession passed, were closed ; and the Ixdl ni' St. I'atriek's, dni-inp: its progress throngh r.-daec street, inng ont its solemn reminder to tln^ failhfnl of their diitv towards the sonl of him whom ihev \ovoA so well. On the following Snnih'iy, In St. Patrick's, tln^ Rev. Mr. Neville, acting in the absence of l'';ither McGanran, took occasion lO ask the i)rayers of the congregation for the rei)Ose of the sonl of tlie lamented deceased. The rev. gentleman was him- self mnch allVcted, and among his large .'indience there were manv moved to tears. He spoke to the following eil'ect : '( The sad and melancholy dnty Inis fallen to me of j'Ofrnesting the favonr of vonr pravers, dnring Ihis Holy Sacrifice, for the repose of the soul of the latci \\ J. Doherty, whoso unexpected and ahnost sndden deatli has evoked the deepi^st sympathy and I'egret from all classes of the commnnity. Whih^' remind- ing yon of this last trihnte of Catholic piety to the lamented deceased, 1 do bnt interpret the heeling of the whole commnnitv in saying that the eai'lv demise of one so young and so gifted in tlie jjriest- hood, has proved a sev^ere blow and mc^t painful disappointment to the Cdinrcii of this Archdiocese. This feeling is perfectly intelligible to ydn, gentle- men of St. Patrick's congregation, who have been privileged, with many othei's, to appreciate and ad- mire the brilliancy of his talent and tlieelo(|uent force of his action, both as a Catholir; preacher and an eloquent lecturer. The record of his brief thougli eventful career is better expressed in those forcible \vords of Holy writ, so eminently appli- cable to the deceased : ' I will raise me up a faithful — 231 — priest, who shall do according to my heart and soul.'— (Kings, ii. 3.").) A faithful priest lie was to the Church of God, ever careful in guarding the trust she repos(Kl in him. <(We knowliow unremittingly he lahored for lh(» great purpose so dear to his lieart and soul, to wldch he geuerously devoted the l)est energies of a deuili- tated and exhausted frame. During the whole period of his sacerdolal career, he v/as ever faithful to the soleum eng.'igLmients of his ordination, where- hy the uewly-ordained Priest is pledged to Mjelievr what he reads, to teach what be helieves, and to ])ractice Avhat he teaches.' God, in His inscrutable designs, chose to recnil him early iu the day from tbe field of his useful labours ; but the summons came not before he liad realized the ideal of his i)riestly mission, and had edilicd the house of God by the fruitfnlness of his preacliing and the example of his piety. "May Our Lord Jesus Christ receive his soul in uiercy, aud grant liim, through the favour of His lUessed Mother, whom lie so foudlv loved, a ha[)py repose in His Heavenly Kingdom, n I{r(iuicscat in pace. m. v. \y. X KMhM'^ ■ CONTENTS Profaco *^ I iiogm phical Sknlch -, lanters IVoni Kiiiopc! .'111(1 ilin Holy I.niid... -J;; A riCltiM'oii tlip Ii'isl; Qiiicslion [71 All h'xciii'sio!! I') l.fi Trapi)c -|30 Apropos of a Pie \^(j A Word aljout Ireland and tJio Irish K)-;? AppjMidix— 01)soqi;i('s of l'\-i(l!ei' DoIkm'Iv ... '233