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-l l •' A N - a" .i.- • ; " . dlmIY.MM4.M6-l.ý 1. Pn bt "HOW' BEAUTIFUL -ARE. THE FEET OF, THAT BIIUIG GLAD nnIDI i ' . i.r;=m i - ,L f r ý .. . .. . ... .. ..1 "; .1, , 'l°,- . . . . .. . --- -. ::- o . .. NEW V0 ML!',1olr - - , se. abfLllire tea. asw aeS few, hi '1tighSeyeSiy is with es now. s- heTSmdsnWsiMtr mom spring Bar tNmehishla tsaevery paln • a a--emr se everr i Lvr = 4-jq t-ii~ r!:.v yuvlt~- lntgr. -- ----- She -a e as -ms - n queen. A wealth t lbeaty aud yper snng. The arth ared its sese green, With gridlend serisa el g. The eaegsshms cams Aprn's bib - S Wae known as emsea rouand bar way; Her footsteps pressed a mantle rare As Raleigh gave Ate queen ons day. The wild birds waited in thedell To hear the music of her tone, Then tuned their notes her praise to tell, As minstrels round a monarch's throne. The violate all their odors hid From every winsome, wooing breeze, But opened wide their casket's lid To waft their fragrance to her knees. The stars above sheae forth more bright When ilrstQueen May at midnight came, While Earth re-echoed throdgh the night The music of her Sovereign's name. The Day.god. as the clouds uprolled, Looked down with love-eraptured eye, And Jove-like. sent a shower of gold 7 To woo her to his arms on high. Pass on, bright May I We know full soon Tbsamasusave us an r . am Thatevea sew thy lover, June. ImpsLtent waits to claim thy hand. With him thea'lt lave the jays of Spring To enter Smner's burning clime, rFeget thy sveraigty, to seg Love's lowliest, tenderest, weetest rhyme! This, this is if, sand May the token Ot every asids yeg sad fair, Ia whose tre heart each tie s broken WbheanLveasnumes d5 empire there. The pa·singyear battmirrsalife Its trnaient bliss, Its fading bloom. Itsee -iyrqr ams lat erI trl e ........ .. The morning's glow, the eventng'r gloom : Its 8pring-time yearns for Summer's crown, Its Summer envies Autumn's gain, Stern Autumn strives to win renown; When Winter sanps life's trembling chain! IFra the Catholip World.] NELLIE NETTERVILLE; OR, ONE OF THE TRANSPLANTED. - cUAPTER II--ONTIYNUEI. -- Not now, Hamish! not now ! Leave me for the present, I entreat you I" " And why not now?" Hamish answered almost roughly. " Do you think you only have a cause for--grieving Tell me, my mistres, i iwe, humble as we are, and not to be thought of in comparison with your layship's l r, if we have not lost-are losing a.hing Ah l if you could but hear the weeping and wailing that is goingon among the creatures down stairs, you would never do us such a w'ong as to suppose that your heart is the only one sore and bleeding to-day !" " Sore and bleeding ! Yea ! yea! I doubt it not," moaned the lady, sadly. " Sore and bleeding; but not widowed-not child less; they have still husbands and children --they have not lost as I have lost !" "They have not lost-not, may be, quite so much, but yet enough, and more than enough,' to set them wailing," answered Hamish, firmly ; " they have lost a master, who was more like a father than a master, and a yodng mistress, who was all as one as a daughter to every one of them ; and more over,' he added, mournfully-" and more over, instead of the kind hand and generous heart that has reigned over them till now, they are going to be handed over, (as if they were so mnany ltocks or stones encumbering the lan d)-hether they like it, or whether they don't, to the tender mercies of those very men who thought it neither sin nor shame to make the child a shield against the soldier's sword, when they fought knee deep in blood at the siege of Tredagh !" " Why do you say these things, Hamish ?" she almost shrieked in her anguish. " Is it my fault? Could I help it? or why do you reproach me with it?" Your fault ! No, indeed it is not ! More's the pity; for if you could have helped it, to a dead certainty, it never would have happened," said Hamish, glad that he had roused her, even if only to a fit of anger. " But, though you cannot prevent these thinigs, mymistress, you can, at all events, comfort the c(r'eliattres thalit hl;1v' to lha-r tiemn,. y slonwitig that, you hn;ve, ;.e-lij.gs l'o, tlucir soiirows. a-s iel] ;ts for yOur',)Vh II G I-' I le ! a a veryftl wil* inlR ptsh , tone, oni or.. "e t very thng,"cried famlesh, not the. only real comfort y could give would be the hlowing theni to tryatN and comifort yoI" 1 Iidthbebi pra, then, for tie safe jour ney' of mydloved' ones-"shi answered;' hoarely-"tht is the only real comfort th ean giveme. a wh.u y,then, couldn't we pry alto getherV cried Hamish, struck suddenly by a bright idea. " Why wouldn't you let them come up here, madam t I warrant you they wouldpray as the best of them never prayed beforeif they only seen your ladyship's honor kneeling and praying n" the midst them." " I-I cidnnotlray-T c:annot even th'k she answered,laynug her head once ore on her folded arms, like a weary or chidden child. "Go you, good Hami . and pray with them yourself, down at "In the kitchen, is it !" id Hamisb, wi a considerable portion irony in his voice. "Faix, my lady, a it's queer thoughts we'd have, and q r prayers we would be saying there, th the pot forenent us, boiling on t-fre-and Cromwell's black rogues of coming and going, and fhigins urses and scraps of Scripture (ac cordin to their usual custom) in equal miare at our heads. No! no! mylady e continued vehemently, "If you wod 1 have us pray at all, it must be here-here where the e'drs's will mind us of a Mother who once stood at its foot,. and who was even more desolate than you are ; a-Mother silent asd heart-broken-not because her Child had gone, before her into exile, from cause she saw Him dying-dying in the midst of tortures-and forsaken so entirely that it might well have seemed to her (only she knew that never could be) as if God as well as man had utterly abandoned Him." ' You are right, Hamish; you are right," cried Mrs. Netterville suddenly, touched to 1 the quickby his voiceand-l usuo . 'e Go you down at once good Hamisb, and bid them come here directly. I shall' be ready by the time they are assembled." - As.Mrs. Netterville sloke thus, she rose from the floor, andtin, all t once per she began hastily to gather up her tresses, previous to placing her widow's coif upon them.> Hamish waited to hear no more, but in stantly left the room to do her bidding. As he walked rapidly toward the"lower part of 1 the imansion, he drew a long sigh of relief, like one who has just got rid of a heavy bur den, as in truth he had ; for he felt that he had gained his point, and that whatever his mistress might have yet to suffer, she was safe, at all events from the eff.ets of that first great shock of sorrow which had threatened to overturffher intellect. When he returned to announce that the household was assembled-and waiting for her further orders-he found her kneeling at I the priedien, in all the grave composure of -her usual manner. She did not trust herself however, to look roundn but merely signed to him that they shlould come in and the r instant the noise and bustle of their first entrance had subsided, she commenced r reading from her open missal. 1 But the very sound of her own voice in I supplicatory accents seemed to break the t spell which had hitherto been laid upon her. y faculties. She fairly broke down and bFret into a flood of tears. This was more than t enough for the excitable hearts around her, s and the room was filled in a moment with the wailing of her people. Hamish was in i despair i and yet, perhaps, no other mode of proceeding could have done so much toward r calming her as did this sudden outburst; for Mrs. Netterville had a true Eniglish I woman's aversion to " scenes," however real and natural to the circumstance of the case they might Ie.: Sihe instantly checked her a tears, and waiting quietly until the storm of grief had in some degree died out, she col - lected all her energies, and read in a low, a steady voice the prayer or-collect for those 1 travelling by land or sea, as she found it in a her missal. A few other short but earnest prayers succeeded, and then she paused once 1 r more. Her audience took the hint and q3uietlyretiredl. lamish was nboutto follow, a r but she rose from thet priecdiu, and signed I t to him to remain. " IIaniish," she said. gently butt decidedly, " I have done your bidding, and now I ex pect that you will do mine. I wish to be i t alone for the restof the day-do you under s1 tand ? alone with God and my great sorrow ! To-morrow I will begin the work for which i s I have been left here, but to-day must be my own. ('ome not here yourself, and look to L it that no one else disturbs me. Keep a I heedful watch upon the soldiers, and see t. thatno mischance occurs between them and 1 D any of our pebople. I trust to you for this 1 Sand all thlings. Now leave me. If I have r ntceid tf ;:ytlhinag, I will let you know." ! T'ltre wa lTlT;t itn MIrs. Netterville's tone ;.tl t:Iattater wrhich tIald IImataisla fei'l he lte had goneQigthi tr banoughalready; so, wi h as- out sdther word of remonstrance or exst mr- tulation, he miade his revereqce and retred. ish .m. C Vrrasu . 4 rs. Nettervlle waited until the of hiso retren footetps had died aw in he aid corridor,. then fistenizg the o sors s to to senure herel from any f interrap; tion from the outside, she more fell-o her knees before the fl, sad bualed her ee in both her s How long she remained thus she ei* knew exactly; but the shades of.a ae January evening were ti yh intstfie room, when, with by start and ook ais f her conscience smote b her, sh rose suddenly from . her e knees. Christ pardon met" she muttered half oud, "that, ia my own selfish sorrow Il ve forgotten others! Poor.wretch! By o this time he must be well-nigh famished, if, o indeed, (though I trust it will not,)the delay . has not worked ]him deeper mischief." on As these thoughts passedt rapidly through an her mind, she opened a cupboard close at hand, and 'drew from thence a bottle of wy sine, with some other. articles of delicate aood, packed -carefully in a wicker-basket, and-evidently left there for soue especiai purpose. She then soughtthrongli the gloom be for a cloak, which she threw upon her shoul ders and, drawing the ho:xl down over her face, and taking the basket on her arm, she d hastily left the room. Not, however, by the door through which Hamish- and the:ser rai vants had retreated, but by another at the ~ opposite end, and which was almost invibti id ble, in consequence of its forming one of the panelsain' the black oak ,wainscoting of r the chamber. It led hrdireotly by a short stone passage to eaother door lor ow-w on opening which she found herself in the - er private grounds of the eastle. Before.hir at no ,d one stoo .an pld ivy-eov Stery. was not the parish church, but Sa private capel, built by the Netterville milyar their own particular use ; and here thir infants had been baptised .--ther daughters married, and their old men and H" women laid reverently to their last slum to bers ever since they had established their bo existenoe in the lan. 1( Mrs. Netterville could not resist a sigh iY as site glanced toward its venerable walls. i - It seemed as if it were only yesterday that i1 ee she had gone there to lay down her hus- I ir- hand in his lowly grave hoping and pray 'e, ii. iut ofthe-dept -sfr iertwngreat -gtr al o, that she might soon be permited to sleep h~ on quietly besi~ehim. And now, even this sad hope was to be hers no longer; this 1 n- poor possession of six feet of earth was to tl is wrested from her; strangers would lay of her in a distant grave, and even in death t if, she would be separated from her husband. al The thought was too painful to bear gS is much lintgering upon it, and turning her es back upon the Church, Mrs. Netterville fol lowed a path which lay under the castle a walls, and led to a court-yard, at a consid erable distance. Round this court-yard tr were grouped stables and other ofeces, al he which, having been built at different pe 'or riods, and without -any.consecutive idea m at a whole, presented rather the appears of at of i collectioni of stunted farm-house an of el the regular outbuildings 'of important is e4 mansion. fa he Each of these he ad a private an- pl rst trance of its own d opening the door of m ed one of them . rs Netterville looked in of quietly, a entered. The interior was a of in room orly, but yet decently, furnished; he an on a low settle-bed, at the farther end, st er. lay a young man, who, with hisi sunken eyes cc rat and hollow cheeks, had all the look of a th an person just rescued from the jaws of death. ti ir, A knapsack on the floor, a pike and musket oR ith in ohe corner of the room, and a steel cap sl in and buffeoat in another, seemed to announce nu of him as one of the band of successful soldiers of rd who were even then in possession of the ym it; castle. Ih h- Poor fellow! he lay, with closed eyes, gi tal wan and weary, on his bed, looking, at that fa se moment, like anything rather than like a at er successful soldier; but he lifted his head an st of he caught the noise of the door creaking on as >1- its hinges, and his face brightenid into as si w, expression of joy and gratitude,.pleasant to rI use behold, when he discovered Mrs. Netterville it in standing on the threshold.-- a "st "Can you ever forgive me I" she said, cc going up to him a:t once. " I cannot easily pi id forgive myself for having left you so long at w, alone. In the grief and anguish in which I di ed have been plunged all day, I had well-nigh w forgotten your existence; and you must be ft ly, faint- I fear me. for want of nourishment." a x- " Nay madam," he answered, gently, w be indeed, Iut yet with a good deal of that sa sr- comfortable self-assurance in spiritual smat- at i<! ters which seems to have been an especial ti rh inheritance of .r Cromwell's satits." "If w iy you have forgotten, the Lord at least hath bi to been mindful of, his servant, and bath cast na a so deep a sliumble on my smnses. that I have w ee been altogether tllncoilciout of tihe lapse of nd tinle, or of thie absence of tlho.le carnal conm- o "is forts which, howecver thin sp,irit nay rebel N e tlagaint thenm alr. Iieverth. I,. .I i Itot irry p hI ti ..nli i it' , i ie s 1t rtia i- ' s1 tai t •.and - - J- w , - s.wdh hd -a5 ,a mIt.ul hd a. 'k -.e t -forrs- - ° ek a e ad hea, andt pnao i ore.n ..sno. w.is , o i~.to yonu ou: "Nay, ada saidthe with great and hardly aem4l'eintg i his voice and-manner.- - tint I buto* or any way efesh until I have potl fworth msy-son of Fahtude; IigC to the Lord of ,hoats wh.i bath deliveied me from this great anger, and then to you, who lhave tended me (even as the widow of Sarepta might, have waited on Eliss) through the perils of a sickness from which my very comrades and fellow-laborers-in the vineyard fledjtrembling and afraid." "'You must paop thejtol Jaeksoia,". said Mrs. Neftt e, .a;nd ll, the more readily, 'becaue this disease, from which you have so mirvelously, recovered, is, men say, in its rapidzi aes _-an-almositare moitality, akin, if not indeed wholly sini, lar, to that terrible mtoalady: therlague, which.s the scourge o 'te Eiarttu nlatlons, and ledves crowded c oii i see it lass en .rd..hi, l"n'u, t and e.. the sep n ':Febres cthe dea. aaYou at thenore won :nd you need not teelgid if :men who would have riskedL-tiLt for no iIhI to yothatuS tsbats4eld, ye hrunk sw d ' have dons thande whieh the ver, the y; own. household haeo d srn o'm , aa I woul "ealdblve bent~law y eatide coueld." - thoul an shonw it, pad thOto ieg i, ifo ll" she answered~ otdl oe t ind and dring heartily. of . I lease and eorn " Yout. shall soon, as you doubtides know already, have work in hand which will compe, aseto make my visits fewer; and' i`e I shall- not like to risk other lives by sening any of the household to wait on you in my stead." " Alas im madam, I fear I have been froublesome and unprofitable, the not ltoether, I do asslde you, a less "ues cnthe man answered, a somewhat nd and deprecatory r. " Nayy; but now mistake me alto= Sthero" she an ered earnestly. " Yo have been a en patient sufferer and that trouble- ich is altogether unavoidable in any al -h as been, you may believe t a pleasre rather than an uneasiness to me I only meant to say that, though I shall still contane to visit youn morgegand evening, I shall not be able toeome so often in the daytime as I have been used to do; for all matter in this sad aefair ofthe trnoans plantation having fallen into my hands, yo may well imagine it isas mnuch or more than one poor woman an well accomplish by her own unaided efforts." " Would that could aid you," he an stherd fervently-" would that I could comfort youn But, alas ! in this uatter of the transplantation I an do naliht, seei-o that it is the Lord utnse f who path girded on our swords, bidding as to smite and spare not. Nevertheless, lady, I am not unngrateful, and in the long, aleepless oights of my weary malady I have wrestled for Siat n prayer, striving exceedingly and mabeing much exercised on your account; nor gave I over until I had received the com fortable assurance that, as the Lord sent angels to Lot to deliver him out of Sodom, so he would some day make of me a shieola and a defense, whercly you might be snatched from the woes that he is about to rain down on this land, bcause the cry of its idolatry is waxen great before his face,' and he hath sworn to destroy it." t' Well, well!" she answered a little im patiently, "I thank you for your good-will at all events; but for tnhe present we will discourse no further on this matter. God will one day judge between.ns, and by his flat I am content t stand or fall, in all those matters of religion on which, unhappily, we differ. See, I have trimmed the lamp so that it will burn tbrightly until morning, and there is food and wine on this little table. I will put it close to the bed, ao that when you need nourishment, you will have but to put forth your hand to take it. And now I must say good-night-to-morrow I will be with you br the early dawn;" Having thus dlone all that either charity or hospitality could asnk at her hands, Mrs. Nettlrville retired from the room, sooner, 'probably, than she would havre donre if the dhiscrs lno unrti:h ...n his rmatter on der - --,-- . r (. eh s.C O ,"ssg . I p about 5.D.-8 fe. 9 (6r. w,,'. Te seatiet in favo"-f pealatanosng the liberty and independbene eo the -Holy .e. is on the increase in varioupart. of the.Union. The necessity of asisting the Viodble ordinary war expenses in repellingthe law less invasioneof the States of the Church by the Garibaldt in freebootert and init '.throaty, ias gener~ lnl admited. the 0vie.w eah on the in the libeality of their a tce!.U onl The! oesy of aristing ghe-prousand HadoiterCh -proporth ionate~ their xhliated mordinary wart penr n repelon to the mnse tgnd c er", ';,.nt,,mse ofEurope,f pless invasi te hae stfes of the Churchpop bye Goth earibaldian ereote practical cvi ' roa the ety er d gens, the fitdmid. sgeneroaitya of ther in to-elldlty dark and their beautiful sy: bola .. d reli glons e preeen, they are superior iited gd taste and Chriseatia timento se oany ol Ahoe onde iedn , mCougreL_ omixtures_ of Grean and an archtectre, whichll t loom up some localities, in expensive un ess, even as Catholic parish urches. In the erection of churches and other charitable institutions, the experience of the clergy will bear us out in the assertion that the railway and farm laborers, or the faetory operatives, -are the most generous; they do not hesitate when called upon for aid to any pious or worthy object, and they do. not otop to estimate what percentage their eontributions would realise if judi cloudly invested in some joint stock ven ture or operation. The most practical and brilliaec t ewhi have been accomplished by the systear of numerously and widely extended penny or rmall contributions - In the attention of the traveler in the Weatern railway and Northern tates of the Union (wthey do not he Csitathee pualled uption is chiefy of the laboring or meehasniesllasa) is attractedl to he beautifusl, or worth poet , req village hurenotes mostly in the whatyle, whtchage dot the coibtiony, with their stained glas windows and itasteful mjble altr, then work of the poor workialg mbrillian and uble factory girl, ve beeompireed by the good sonse, seal, and cultivated taste of tpei n parish priests. What a noble exnmple of gennine cl'arity e have in tll above menti contribtio eu tion of the "travelepoor Irish boy," of 20 in goldW and the "last drop of his blood," ion necessary, to defend the temporal right o0 the Popre te Cathe possession of his Capital City, and boring othe more modeaf poor widow's g to t he ofautthe, same object! -_ v _ilage These,. with the gift of the Newd gleans and Jackson Railroad trai boy altars, thining examples of the noble genworng masity and chi- -ble alric instincts of our po byCathe olc ope-nse, ratives, and cltWhat nincentative of to the gentry the professional men, the merchants, and trwe havesmen, the Catholic millionaires, with theiion coes of thousands-to dotheir duty, in and contribute, in accordance with their mecesas, to thdefe most righteo temporal cause in the world, the frepossedom and independence friom all for the more mo Pope the (These,. with tof Christ's .of the New !