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:ý - t. ornlngStar ad dOboNomllel wo-m" o.., . Tam Mozummo TerAN b h-en ]Nsds N e. IsaeUii cdPee s ad w ith the ppol of eooeeal, authort of the ifto uY a S . . - admitted :rant in New Orlsne d is mainly dvoted to the intr ,(eCatholic Chumr p . L oTo prevent eill lure, and to ut Mlos t ev. Ant N. J. P.R . tPCpermnenoN of the Pndl very Rev. 0. wbased on " joint stock comp ]. Mom te Pre'ent. ta of which is one huand the Vicollars, in Aevothousande har, f Eev. T. J. 'dollarn eah. Rpev.sie at JOe.A Mr. Josx T. w. , r. We approve of the afoTread s6.rsty. taking, and comme. it to of our Dionese. Al bea~ G teth3. N.t A nc .ao o New tOJ.ul.rAusauo oN ..itue. .fl .. ..e...e..er- r D.u e..m 1s, ISea UetiaUcom Nwo. ls ozemadaet reet. - "HOW BEAUTIFUL ARE THE .FEET OF THEE THAT" (IG GLAD TIDINGS OF GOOD THINGSI" Term.--lrornaeranaum, VOLUME NEW ORLEANS, SUNDAY MOR G FEB,UAR Y 19, 1871. NUMBE Morning tiar nd Catholic Messenger. Naw O3LanassN SUNDAY, nBUAAY 19. 1871. THE BARK OF PETER. Two thousand years, two thousand years, Out bark o'er billowy deas m Haa oeward kept her s.ady course B Thoulh hurricane and beeze. a Her eLptain was the Rsle One, d beebrave thpe ato oy f. a. Andt ~ L~rl siea who guided her t T o then sad yeats ago. t Sound Scripture and tradition were b Thi ars her cours to steer, a Her helmsman was the Holy Oue- d A helper ever near. t Though nilny a beautiful boat has sunk 'lTheo reaheroun waves below, Yet oans s sound al she was built, I Two thounasd years go Theind that illed her swelling sheet, From Rome' great centre blown, a Still urging her unchanging course ii Through shoals and breakers on. a Her utlring pennant still the cross. Whao1ser rease might blow It poted, s it does, to Heaven Two thasand years ago. When first our lant ship was launched, I Aihak ourhands were few Yet dsuoeawas each bosom iound, ft And eery eanrt was truo. And sftll, ttough in their mghtly lull Unnumbered bosoems low. Her crev fathtul as i was Two thousnd years ago True, some had left their noble craft To sail the seas alone d And made them in their hour of pride at A veael of their own. But they.o vsn clouds portentous rise, And atorm tempsatuous blow, le-entered tt old veseel bauilt Two t o end ) sag. H o ta a wreabk Her m he p ritggng torn, d The A on he oer do There ik Fibsher. More did fall. Queen Is blood did flow Delendi o 00ood vessel built Two · ys sgo. P Ab! marls yr'sblood wa shedd We maR name them all- ii They to e nt from his but, The utale his hall. •When o vs thy children's blood For fath freely now, As pure ite an as was the fount Two de o. Yet onvid our vesselursasati " TAnd outthe saler be clead dwreck and spliced the st And ever sail And 5wse d ., mightier far. Upoef d S hearts had she Twn d years o. True to ulding Star, which led Her stsdy tte polinteth yet To boody top. Yes, tS fieats, that good old ship, roS keel below fleawory a.s ert ahb was Twoot d year ao. Not un O ot unto no, Be pae d glory given, But no who watch ad ward Rt or us in Heaven. Who qr a whirlwind in his wrath, a to cease to blow Ti at Lrd o unched our vessel forth Two 74t ago. Then 1fed the brave old bark, "Telod ne thy gluide. . And air each plank and spar, Unran by friend or foe. Juat ls f JerUsalem Ywo~h ud years ago. Tb v m rid years ago. WLY dT HAPPENED. Concluded.] Perhabs i w only a few minutes, but it appearea me my heart's beating sees ed to race tb ti lig of the timepieee-when Mrs. Elliot el ; a small, slight, delicate looking wess with a melancholy tone of voice and a lue d manner. She spoke kind ly to me, aid tb turned to converse with my uncle about his urney and other trifles, giv ing me tide t look around the handsome room. It tSes y eleganut, very fashionable, but so nuonle-l c sod fferent from the Dene, that my eart k still lower, and I felt ut terly miserable. y uncle could not stay, and almost immedia y rose to take leave; I did not love nude , but I felt very dreary when he was gone a the last link to my west country bone h failed me. A pretty ram as assigned me, a room with S windows lodin over the Surrey hills, taste folly thongi si ly furnished; at any rate I felt I should ik y room; that would be all' my own, who was a comfort. And' when evening can d Mrs. Elliot was dozing on the sofa-ben n al habit, she said, after her late dinner-- le upstairs to my room, and sat at this wnd as I sit now, watching the waving lease the chestnuts, the golden tinted feldebe rd, and glad to .think that the faint scent im the bed of lily-of-the-val ley should seal at my window just as it did at the Dune. 11 desolate I felt that night I it was my firt ting from home, and it was under very e. ful circumstances. How far away they al s ed how ha . felt it that I could not be ngst them in a the trouble, that my lot slme be east amongst strangers and leanningny ead on my hands I cried bi terly, and tre dropped through my fngers upon the leavre the rose-tree that clustered round my window. At last I re mTssed that the evening was t asesing by, and T m go down. I was Mrs. lllot's companion n d expected to make myself worthy of the.l`-lW amnume that was b my stipulated eslm7.. n SWell, I dried myt, Ian went b downstairs to iin6d just asking for m me, and coffee bein the drawin room. Perhaps abse red eyes 'ad fel a little sorry for ber manner was a t sbade more cordial, sensaed herself to e talk to me of my i " eued that all that would iredf would be to read to Mrs. E rite notee bhes, walk with her in the' sof gt , oe. I drive when she des company t a talk or be silent, be at or present, adapting myself to le moods as best I might. "And I do hope, Yas Arnoln maid my employer in seo "that yoa are of 1 an amiable and e dspostiotl; it is e indispensable that . ay narveos t ament should not by the unequal spirits of my comfn It seamed ta that no answer was required, eae tainly I had none so I received her-e marks in silence, and very thankful when a few minutes later, me ring.ths bell for her maid, and !must feet a tigd,' gave me permission .for the night. And when I maB s yselflate my pret ty room I thought tb ht as wa the du ties assigned to mea r a hoae maid. For in no free dom, no solit u- to me tltet suebh an existen ble. Batl went to sleep v my sorrow, because I was a. of home, of railwayes nd Steeý bill, all in i , until the bright sunslb -h reoam aroused me I t To got ay,or the many irotine, ting library in t e most constant occupation, whilst Mrs. Elliot did elaborate wool-work, which never seemed I to get finished, however. Sometimes we were driven through the winding lanes and roads near Steephill by a pair of sturdy white ponies; sometimes we walked short distances, or paid dreary morn ing-calls at some of the neighboring houses.; but I would gladly have changed lots with any of the hard-working women who looked after us from the doors of their cottages. It was such a dull level life, without any congen ial companion, without interests or even hope. My only comfort was in the constant letters from the D)ene. The weeks were gliding away, and midsummer sb close at band that they were packing and arranging fur departure. Sad as it was for them, I thought it a happi ness compared with my life, so far away. Ar thur wrote me word that they had taken a small cottage, only six rooms, but they were pretty.and airy, and there was a nice little garden for Rose, and mamma seemed to take a little interest in making all as snug and home like as could be. Uncle and aunt Ray had left the Done, taking Agnes with them; and she wrote cheerfully, and seemed: contented with wrote cheerfully, and seemed contented wit of her home, and the prospect of school-life, though she said, "Nothing would ever be like the dear old Dene ."e How mbuor thought of them all those last m daysal-how I pictured my mother takings a farewell of every room and its furniture; how hi I fancied abe would linger longest and last in the chamber where our father died, and gaze cl out ince more at the white gravestone in the chrtch- ard When the 24th of June had passed I knew it was over; the Pene empty, all but of those who were preparing it for the sale that was to take place. Ah, tiat dreadful sale; how it hurt my pride to think ofour things being looked at, commented on, and finally q knocked down to the highest biddefen How " hard it seemed to know that neighbors would t gatherin those rooms, the very rooms where they had met before so differently, and talktd with pity of "those poor Arnole .' J Mrs. Elliot complained that I was very dull and unsociable those last few weeks in June, w bqt I did not tell her why; Ifelt she would e not comprehend me. But I was learnintg pa. tience in a hard school, and resolved to try and fulfil my duties, and earn my £25 yearly sal arnd so the summer faded away-that strangly and summer. My home letters grew gradually more cheerful. Mlamma seemed try ing tofbe happy, if ench a thing could be when she had buried hit who made her hanpli ness; urhaps I should rather say she was strivi to be content in seeing Arthur pros per and little Rose so well. I would not grieve her by my own sandess; I wrote cheesrflly syd hopefully every week, dwelling upon the easy service required of me, and te oomfprt of p sephill, e utsryiyg noth ing of how my henarieed out for love, bow I longed or a fond w o or gentle touch, that I might not feel s loie ly. in the autumnI I had a visit from aqut Ray and Agnes-Agnes looking quite a fashionable Soung lady. So much grown, and so modh Sm foved,- aunt said; but somehow she did I not seem so much my sister as in the days we I had roamed about the old Dene garden togeth Sor. We were a good dea alone, for Mrs. Illiot r and aunt Ray seemed very friendly, and had t much to say to each other; soAgues and I could talk without restraint, and I heard all about her school-life and her companionu but in return I had very little to tell of Steephill a nothing ever happened there. a Tben oae the drery time when autumn fa ded into wintesr, and trhe wind wistled in the tall trees, and at every fresh gust came a shower of dead leaves on the paths, or blow ing up against the window. I looked out hopelessly, for the lovely gardens had helped me to bear my life at Steephill ; it seemed ites home to be with the trees and flowers. What should I do all the winter And I theught with dismay of the novels I should have to wadethrougb for Mrs. Elll~ts benefit, ad of the small-talk betwek'~'imes, of she "ong evealngp when eshe desed in, ber wek - and I must sit there watohtng, lest; dbse d wake and want me. One morninRg-it was mild I bar-when I went down to a home letter, and I was d when an exelitsron fsea me, and her own letter fell fWOehs_ was a blae-beodmi d liater border and a strong feellao . her £le4 my hearL -erb. a dray as earer. - <ea.. --,,. , --a It wi some time before abe 51.Nk to me ut she seemed to And it Iomb oomrir- to heb my beads within hsi.' i e 'ter streamed l.4.beISe. I had hider tbe6tat teM rt what --- t-+-·· Sehild. had diod o a son, butl his nse orr mentione and I understood lutit itbets Was ate paitafl mysteg r eon with the eibjeot. By degrees sbe conAded to. ati nr a be grew up to manhood, bhe had hea esavoerted ie the Boman Cathea rel lgtebad se bad ban ished him from her booeaen otried to banish bin from her heart. News had come of hit marriage, sbseqent ly .5 his wife's dea26, leaving him with bjyW But rs. at efused to repntanoe em. too late. or thing! howa I pitied her under tIa heavy grief, which seemed to age her day by da could even have borne that he should die, if only I might have spoken one word to him -just to have -asked him to pardon nev," she moaned. And gladly as I would have comforted her I had nothing to say, for I knew no words would touch so deep a sorrow. I might even reach her better by my silence. But the little child was coming; I was gladof that. " I leave tmy little one to your care," those were the lines hastily scrawled with hlsldying hand; "but I beg you to alfow her to grow tip in the religion of her parents-that faith which has comforted me when all else'failed." " And it shall be so," said Mrs. Eliot, "never would I prevent the little one front following her father's dying wish. Poor Horace! his piety was more real than mine." And so, after a short delay, the little one came. A rosy-faced, dark-eyed girl of five, ,Kith a pretty mixture of French and English chatter: quite at home with us directly, and ,__ ~. r in na, tine" from the forgetting all her gried in partingi ru . a rriends who brought her amidst the novelty of 8teephill. She took a great liking to her l grandmanmma ; and I was glad of it, for it seemed some comfort to Mrs. Eliot to make ! mnch of the ehild-the child "with HIorace's eyes, and Horace's voice," as she said, when he made the old house echo with his laughter long years before. But I think that the little one clung more closely to me. She followed me about by day, "-ud slept in my arms at night; and her comin" turned my life from shadow into sunshine. was so glad of her baby-love. As she grew more famuiliar she would talk to us of her dead father-her mother she ciould not remember tell us how, when he was well enough, he would lead her along the streets of the old town they lived in and take her to hear Mass. " And I was so good !" she exclaimed; "yes, dear Christine, so good; bacause, you know, Jesus is there upolthe altar." Then, as Sunday came round, she would ask to go to Mass. Once we took her to the village church, but the childdit'not like to go. She sat there with the tears in her eyes, and when we wele home again I asked her why. "Ah, I do not wish to go to )our hunrcb," she said. "Our Blessed Lady is not there; you have not Jesus; you have no altar, no candles-you have nothing." After that the child seemed sad when she saw us go to church on Sundays, but she said nothing; only shook her head if we asked her " Would she like to go with us ?" Mrs. Eliot looked very serious about it. " Mary is but little more than a baby," she said; "yet I do not feelthat f am obeying my son's wishes and bringing her up in the faith of the Catholic Church. What am I to do, Christine F" We had been more sociable together since the little Mary came, and the formal "Miss Arnold" was dropped. So 4 answered, how would it he if I took the child to Mass on Sun days? There was a Catholic church within walking distance, and it would please her; as for the rest, all religious education could be left until she was older. And thus we settled it; only the white ponies drove us to St. Jo i seph's Church, and we walked home. I Mary seemed delighted with the plan; and E it did me good to see the reverential behavior I of that child. She seemed, in her littto way I to have found something she bad missed, and I was struck with tbere lity of her ohildist faith, little as I understood the oeremnmy at which I was present. For as yet it was to m7 e mind orly ceremony ; I did not yet know thi ard truth of which it was but the outw form. So as a weeks came round, I went with Mary: Mass on Sunday morning; in the I filled my seat in Mrs. Eliot's pew at church. It was strange how un- t how meaningless the service seemed ( es to please Mary, Mrs. Eliot too I St. Joseph's-only to please Mary, nt I began to think there was an pleasure and comfort in it to her- ° I watched her closely, because II so with me. But I would not have No; I meant to prove that I could necathed from the ordeal of being I to the "insidious influences of Ca Perhaps it was for this reason I ttle Mary's appeal that one of the ther Russell they called him--might lee her. L been used to see a priest visiting I .a e, Mrs. Eliot," I urged; "and if she atholic, it is only propershe should 4 have wish, or how can she be rightly t., her religious duties r' ~ perfectly right, Christine, and I 4 every way to forward my son's as. Eliot; and that day a crested Ispatched to St. Joseph's Church, that she had the guardianship of a C ild, and would be glad if the priest w at Steephill. So he came, and we wre , with him, with his gentle man ar agreeable conversation. But Mary Sts fted. She seemed as if she had found w I shall be quite happy," she said to -I pat.'her to bed that night, and w she said "Our Father" and "Hail Mary never missed that; she had p "dear papa" she never would. es the w and months passed by, a , : doubts as to the increasing sonvio light to w a Go was drawing me; and not only me, for I fonad that Mrs. Eliot was pass ing through the same mental conflict. One evening; sitting in the firelight, when Mary had gone to bed, she told meohis: told mse how the conviction was gaining strength in her mind that there was a reality in the Catholic faith which called for at least candid investigation and much thought. And I, in my turn, confided to her my own feelings; bow the faith of my childhood was powerless to satisfy my heart's deepest need, and how I longed for something more real, more satisfying. • . , "We will talk to that good Father Russell when he next calls here," said Mis. Eliot. And she did so. During the n t four weeks we listened to lil teaching, n med all our doubts and ditliculties, and as on by one they dioappeared, and the cloud of prejudice was displled Ifrom our nmids, a pace came to us that neither hled found before. Mrs. Eliot, after her life of varied pleasures and sorrows; I, in my girlhood, with an untried future be fore me--together found happiness and rest, thus safe on the rock of the iallible Church son of Christ. his Since then I have been able to see why it all i happened; why my earlv bhappiness was cloud- CDO ed, and sorrow and separation darkeped WY lifo. Through dtlsappointmelt and through ten triIals God drew me to Himself, into the fulness tee of light pud knowledge. And how changed poe emy lift seems! So much to do for the Great vii Muster, de~,ones to pray for, to win to the tin truth; work all around, in my own heart, in tnt ne home, and in the world. .o I sit at my window this calmn May night, as I sat a year Ago-so much the same out- 01 wardly, allso changed within. Mary is sleek. Eu lug pieeoflly-may God bless MDary, the little sic messenger of peace and joy to Steephilll By and byl shall lie down by her side, and her in soft arms will twine round my ucok, audeause ro happy, dreams of home and my little sister. l And soon, very soon, I shall be among them, hu for I amt going for a visit to the west to see my nmother and Arthur and Rose after this long absence. Just a year! part of it so and and so i a hopelebs, part of it so peaceful and happy; but th Snow that it is closing-this first twelvemonth th e of my separation from home I can say from my at heart I am thankful, even for the sorrow, as it pi brought me to Steephill and little Mary. ri o0- - cc The New York Denmocrat, referring to the laxity of 0 e tho marriage relation in the most "pious %f States." f Isays : A State so good and pare and loyal as she has al- i er ways been, would never have been suspected of such a 1 thing " having lfteen hundred divorce cases on the r 1 docket of the Supreme Court, and yet it has. To mc- t cuse women san ehildren of witebery and then burn I them at b stake. and to tear down Roman Catbolil t Lo, baildings and lastitutions, appeared rather bad for Maasashusettea but now that it has come to dlvorre, and ce divorce by wholeae-who will fnd language to exprsess 1so the horror of the situarton? We want to know if Ben t ,w Butter, and Wendell Philllps. and Charles Sumner are - not ashamed that they live l the midst of such crine I n and demoralizatlesa Have the great moral examples o be furnished by the lives of these three great men been so I ed utterly lst upon Maesohusetts ho Of the nine Cathollo professors of the Theological nd Faculty at Munich, four have declared in favor of the ior unoonditloal acceptancesof the dogmatic deflnitlon con. in earnlag the Infallbility of the Sovereign Pontaff, two ish havegien conditional consent, and three have declared at against the dogma. We believe the Bishop ouf be-dste ey sae has easpended these latter, aotwithastmlen g the the We a. of the Gevesumemt. Eugente at Chiselhurat-Father O'Connell. One of the New York Tworld's correspon dents recently had an interview with Fa ther O'Connell, the pastor of the Catholic Church at Chiselhurst, Engijad. The Rev. Father has just arrived in New York from Cbhiselhurst, where he was almost daily in compatb with the Empress Eugenie. Oaur readers w, be pleased to learn that Eu genie, touche, by the chivalrous respect manifested towaN her by the Irish resi dents of Chiselhurst,t warm in the expres sion of her regard for Ii qupd and its brave people. We subjoin a pohta of the re port: ' Father Curian's pretty little' hllo Church of St. Andrew, near the Ci- all park, is locally well known, but on New York throughout the two hemisphere it is probably the best known of all the Roian Catholic churches of the city, for from whatever part of the globe the pil grime ecclesiastic of that faith comes to New York, it is there that he. almost cer tainly says his private mass or preaches his first sermon to si American audience. Its rectory may be described as the temporary headquarters of the numerous Roman ec clesiastics who annually pass through this city on their way to missions in all parts of the globe. "To the ends of the earth its fame hath gone forth." As a consequence, the Sunday sermon is preached frequently by some distinguished Catholic clergyman from distant regions. Last Sunday the preacher of the day in this church taught from the portion of the gospel read durinn skill, and with an earnestness which aM not failtt to add to his argument In pro ducing conviction on his hearers. It was within his power to allude t* matters which had come within his knowledge dui ring the past few months which would have been the most convincing evidence of the vanity of hiuman joys and the poignancy of human trials, but he closed his sermor without touching on them; and after Fa ther McCready had concluded the mass, the congregation departed without any suspi cion that the last time the preacher had ad dressed a Catholic-audience an exiled Em press was among his hearers. The preach er was the incumbent of the Catholic par ishl of Chlselhurest in iient-Wnu e.v. ru J. O'Connell, now on a visit in the United l States. A World writer, who has seen him kel on a former occasion, believed that the pastor of Chiselhurst and the preacher of lrkl tie day in St. Andrew's were the same per- Fr son, and, on making inquiry, found that his surmise was correct. Indeed, there an could not be a doubt of it for, once known, coe Dr. O'Connell's face could never be forgot- shi ten. The writer sought, throngh the cour- Ce tesy of the pastor of St. Andrew's, an op- loi portunity of renewing his acquaintance Irn with him. After some remarks on old- ex time topics, the conversation naturally es turned to Chiselhurst and its imperial visi- in tors. So full of interest were Father in O'Connell's recollections of the dethroned wm Empress that the writer requested permis sion to make public some of them. en ,Twelve miles from the busiest metropolis m in the universe, on the Southeastern Rail road, is the pretty inland village of Chisel hurst. Its beauty of hill and dale is probably F unrivalled in England. In an English parish where there are so Ia many rich residents it is safe to suppose E that there could not be many Roman Ca- ti tholics, and the Catholics of Chiselhurst si are, compared with those of a New York parish, very few, being chiefly the very " rich and the very poor. The rich are the v converts who in England are daily "going r r over" to Rome, and a few of the very old I families who are Catholic since before the r Reformation, and the poor are some 500 c i Irish residents of the villages on the little e river Cray. All the region was once Ca- ] tholic, aodthe Catholic names of the vil a lages are still unchanged. There are still I o the St. Mary's Cray and St. Paul's Cray. r The village church owesitsexistenceto the a charity of a gentleman once Protestant. r His wife had become aCatholic, and gradu a ally led over him and all his family except S-one son. 'This son, an officer in the Guards, e laughed at what he called the superstition 'a of his parents, and during long years railed as at Bomne and Romanism. Three months since, he, a convert to this superstition, like Ignatius of Loyola, laid down his el sword, and in the order of which Father be Newman was so great a light was ordained o. a Catholic priest, a member of the "Oratory r of St. Philip Nor." ad Such is religionas We in England-the o raling Guardsman bdhomes a devout Ora Storitn. One of the first duties of Mr. Boden on becoming a Catholie was to crown one of the heights of Chiselharst with a neat Ca tholic Church in the Gothic style. Its situation is most charmnig./ It looks down a beautiful wooded valley, whose glades are dotted with villas. It was dedTeated " under the' invocation of Our Lady." It is a modest church, not -very rich, but in spiring devotion in all who visit it and the five or six hundred Catholics of Chiselhuat love it as much as if it were a Notre Dame des Victoires. It is here the Empress Eu genie and her suite weekly satisfy the ob ligations of their faith. "I presne, Father O'Connell," said the writer, "yu have frequently met the Em press and the Prince Imperial since their arrival in Chiselhuret " "Yes, frequently, and it was often my duty to pay my respects to her, and when she was at home she visited our little church every Sunday and holiday." " How did the people receive her 1" " Always with the most profound and "erential sympathy ; all classes, Protest ent .d Catholic alike, united in their si that he ression of respect; and I know esty was much touched by the and the Iri n to her. The sturdy yeomen Iaes would habitants of the Cray vil very slight d r native royalty with. always saluted te on indeed, but they awt ra exiles. In onu little church-I har Makno es no fashion spraung up-they yn rose when she entered." rose wn " It would be naturalto sup that her own sufferings had so preoeupi er she forgot the cares of others ' that " Oh. not at all; that is not the cha of the Empress; there are few women considerate as she, and still fewer as kind i hearted and , i_ L IA ,. constantly reminders of her interest -o them. No, sir; the Empress Eugenia in her own sufferings did not forget the troubles 'of others. She got up a school festival, and she proposed to attend it, but the weather was too inclement when it came off. I could multiply instances which would display the remarkable thoughtful ness and consideration of the Empress. There are no traits of her character so strong as her unselfishness and her con siderate devotion to others." "I suppose the Irish of Chiselhurst shared some of this interest." " They did, indeed. More than once she remarked to me how cleanly and neat they all were, and how tastefully many of them kept their homes." "Was she aware of the sympathy of the Irish at' home and in this country for Francel" "She was. She spoke of it frequently, and once, in reply to a remark I made coa corning the devotion of the Irish to France. he replied, quite emphatically, 'Ab, I. le uare, if Ireland loves poor France, she eves it not more dearly than France loves reland.' I knew of an invitation being xtended to her to visit Ireland, and I as ured her of the warmth of the receptionr I store for her. She smiled, and, speak ng of 'dear Ireland,' she said she feared it would be too enthusiastic." "Probably she feels that it would niot bt intirely satisfactory to the English govern nent." "Probably so." "Did she feel that England had stood by France as she ought have done 1" "I suspect it was her opinion- that Eng land did not, and that site believed that England would one day find to her cost that she could not with impunity desert sueach an ally as France has been for years." "I once," continued Father O'Connell. "expressed a hope to her that after peace was arranged the powers would unite and repair the desecration to the Holy City. b'.t she sadly smiled and said, alas, all Eu rope, is asleep; its awakening will be, in deed, bitter.' " "She was devoted to the cause of the Holy Father, I suppose T" "Sue spoke of him in the most touching and affectionate terms, and deeply sympa thized in his sufferings. She thought that the policy of the English Catholics in try ing to induce him to leave Rome was not the wisest, and that he should remain in the Eternal City at all hazards." IJEFW Tr Axo 5r rnurcM a NZGLAD.--The Ree. Mr. Spurgeon, the great Baptist preseaer of England. in a recent sermon at his tabernacle. is reported a" using some strong asguage, such as the following : " Through sad thrmagh I believe te very heart of Eng land is boney-combed with a damnable lfdelitty whioh dare still to go into the pIlpit and call itselt Cbhr SAt the eeoosrstion of the Jewish Synagsgue in t;. Iambus. Obehio. reely, the pulpit wsee oepied not merely by rabble, but also by six mniasters, four of thec Mebodiaee, sme a Psbytsitese. sad the sixth a Cong f Csetss