The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume], April 09, 1871, Morning, Image 1

About The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881

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Star andCathollo Messenger EornlngStar andCathoH esm ger
,No-.z.,.o,u OUf q,,lPOMMU a oesq, e,.as ""' sod S-,  boon[0'
r.ea "e. 'e -. - ' "with the appra, of th oela
xi, 191 oassnderf sense, assuessardrend authority of the Diocese, to spyly a
safaynde "o,e. admitted want in New Orleans, n
mainly devoted to the interests * the
Catholio Chuch.
The Directors of the Compay are: To prevent all failre, and to gaantee
Rev. Arobblahop N. J. PERxcu,
--.Rev. Arobishop N. J. e. the permanenoy of the undaert~kig, it 1
e Pro. lent.Ae
Rev. G. RATMOD, ePresident based on a Joint stook company, the e
*ie "P.i dettal of which is one hundred tuan
-. J..Moro", dollars, in fvethousandshares, oftwe
T.dollars each
" Joss FLxANAOAXI.
* Jom T. Grunoi8e,
SJOHN CCF Y, Trearer. We approve of the aforesaid ue
S . seretary. , " taking, ani commen it to the Cathll
of our Dioee=e.
uommuateonica to besaddressed to the t J. Y. AVcearanor or New 0m s
oolAlorning tr ndosUto~oMesenger. D, m•r 19 1,T.
"neaiuon ome--o. 14 crelet coot. HOW BEAUTIFUL ARE THE FEET OF THEN THAT BRING GLAD TIDINGS OF GOOD THINGSI" stm--lara arsoerhaann
_ VOLUMK IV. NEW ORLEANS, SUNDAY MORNING, APRIL 9, 1871. NUMBER 1
horning Star and Catholic Messenger.
113W OBLEANS. SUINDAY.,,4dL 0. lenl. .
(For the Morning Star and Catholic Messenger.I
ERIN'S FLAG.
Br pA1aas RYAN.
Unroll Erins flag! fling its folds to the breeze !
Let it float o'er the land, let it flash o'er the seas;
Lift it out of the dust-let it wave as of yore,
When its chiefs with their clans stood around it and
awore
That never !-no !-never, while God gave them life,
And they had an arm and a sword for the strife,
That never !-no i-never, that Banner would yield
As long as the heart of a Celt was its shield;
While the hand of a Celt had a weapon to wield,
And his last drop of blood was unshed on the field.
Lift ip ! wave it high !--is as bright as of o'd !
Not a stain on its Green, not a blot on its Gold,
Though the woes and the wrongs of three hundred
long yeare
Have drenched Erin's Sunburst with blood and with
tears;
Though the clouds of oppression enshroud it in gleom,
And around it the thunders of Tyranny boom.
Look aloft! look aloft! lo ! the clouds drifting by,
There's a gleam through the gloom, thtre's a light in
the sky.
'Ti. the Sunburst resplendent-far, fishing on high !
Brin's dark night is waning, her day dawn is nigh!
Liftit up! liftit up! the old Banner of Green!
The blood of its eons has but brightened its sheen;
What!-though the Tyrant has trampled it down.
Are its folds not emblazoned with deeds of renown !
What!-though for ages it droops in the dust,
Shall it droop thus forever 1-no! no ! God is just !
Take it up! take it up! from the tyrant's foul tread,
Let him tear the Green flag-we will natch itslast
shred,
And beneath it we'll bleed as our forefathers bled, -
And we'll vow by the dust in the graves of our dead.
And we'll swear by the blood which the Briton has
shed
And well vow by the wrecks which through Erin he
spread
And we'll swear by the thousands who, famished. unfed,
Died down in the ditches-wild-howling for bread,
And we'll vow by our heroes, whose spirits have tfled;
And we'll swear by the bones in eaoh coffnless bed,
That we'll battle the Briton through danger and dread.
That we'll cling to the case which we glory to wed,
'Till the gleamof our steel and the shook of our lead
Shall prove to our foe that we meant what we said
That we'll lift up the Green, and we'll tear down the
Bed.
Lift up the Green flag ! oh! it wants to go home;
long has its lot been to wander and roam ;
t has followed the fate of its sons o'er the world,
Bt its folds, like their hopes, are not faded nor furled.
Ike a weary-winged bird, to the East and the West,
t has flitted and fled-but it never shall rest,
ill, pluming its pinions, it sweeps o'er the main,
d speeds to the shores of its old home again,
are its fetterleus folds, o'er each mountain and plain,
hall wave with a glory that never shall wane.
" ake it up ! take it up I bear it back from afar
t Banner must blaze 'mid the lightnings of war ;
Lay your hands on its folds, lift your gaze to the sky,
And swear that you'll bear it triumphant or die,
And aheut to the cans, scattered far o'er the earth,
Tojoin in the march to the land of their birth ;
And wherever the Exiles, 'neath heaven's broad dome,
Have been fated to suffer, to sorrow and roam,
They'll bound on the sea, and away o'er the foam.
They'll march tothe musiceof "Home, sweet Home !"
! For the Morning Star and CatholicMessenger.]
MARDI GRAS;
A Tale of Ante Bellum Times.
BY TLr. LINKINwATER.
[Continued.]
The room he entered was entirely under
ground, the story above was occupied as a no
tion store, this was a bar room, fitted up in
handsome style. Pansing through this, Mac
Vain found himself in a long room, resembling
a cave, which was immediately udder the side
walk of Broadway. It was occupied as a
shooting gallbry, and as he stood there, sur
veying the rough appearance of the place, a
young man, holding up a pistol, good natured
1 asked him if he would take a shot. This
was Mr. Samuel Sellwell, who, having finished
his day's work, was out for a little recreation.
MacVain surveyed the stranger for a moment
with a distrustful look, but the good natured
face of Sam overcame his repugnance to recog
nizing such chance companions.
" I seldom shoot at such a mark," he replied,
pointing to the figure on the iron screen, "but
your challenge comes with so much confidence
that I will try it."
"Oh, I don't pretend to be an extra shot,"
replied Sam, "but I like the amusement of the
thing."
" Very well," said MacVain, pointing to the
keeper, a lame man, who went about with a
long step and a short one, " this gentleman
shall call for us, and we will fire in turns at
the word."
"At the word!" exclaimed Sam, "I never
fired that way in my Ilfe."
"It is the only way to have any amusement,"
said MacVaiu, "aand I never shoot in any
I other way, but, as you say you prefer a steady
aim, you can fire as you like, and I will fire at
the call."
Each one had three shots, and, as it was
agreed that Sam should try first, he took his
ace, and, after a short aim, fired. One of his
hots struck the pivot, ringing the bell, and
the other two were less than a quarter of an
Inch from it. MacVain fied at the word,
without care or hesitation, two of his shots
ringing the bell and the other touched the
spring, but too lightly to stir the bell.
"Well done, well done," cried Sam; "let's
try it over."
SThat's not good shooting," said MacVain,
"at least down our way we would think it
poor-only one shot was fairly in the centre."
" I don't think you can beat it," replied Sam.
"Oh, yes I can," said MaoVain, amiling,
" that would never do in pigeon and squirrel
hunting."
" If you are dry," said Sam, confidently, "we
will take something on it that you don't beat
it this time."
" I am not much in the humor for drinking,"
replied MacVain, who yet felt as if he must
vindicate his skill with the weapon, "but I
will take your challenge."
Sam took his place, aimed with extra care,
and rang the bell with his first two shots, but
success and eagerness to do well made him aim
a little unsteady, and the third shot missed the
centre by the smallest fraction of distance.
"That was very well done, for a steady aim,"
said MacVain, who now took his position, and,
as the word was given, fired with a quick but
careful aim. His three shots rang the bell,
two of them striking fair in the center.
" By Jove, that is good shooting!" exclaimed
Sam.
" First rate! splendid!" exclaimed the keep
er, with an admiring look at MacVain.
' What will you drink,, sir I" asked Sam.
"Excuse me," replied MacVain, "I really
don't feel like taking anything."
"Oh, that will never do," said Sam, "you
must take something. Come now, it's a cold
night, take a hot Tom and Jerry; of all the
plaiesn New York, this is the best for Tom
andJerry."
" Iery well," said MacVain, yielding reluct
antly to Sam's importunity.
They rang the bell and gave the order to the
servant when he came, Sam in his good nature
including the keeper in the order. The foam
ing beverage, smoking hot, was compounded
just right, and they all pronounced it the best
they had ever tasted.
After finishing his glass, MacVain said he
must go, and Sam replied that he h atayed
long enough himself and would go a sh ldis
tance with him. As MacVain returned to the
bar room, he looked about him again, wonder
ing where the woman had gone that he was
following when he entered the place.
"You are a stranger here T' said Sam, in
quiringly.
"I am not a citizen of New York," replied
MacVain, "but I have spent a great deal of
time here."
"Come this way," said Sam, taking his arm
and drawing him towards the side street, "I'll
show you a sight, thelike of which you never
saw before."
They passed through the door into a long.
narrow passage or hall, under the sidewalk of
the side street. Along this was ranged a
dozen or more stalls or small apartments,
separated by a thin board partition, and all
having a door opening into the hall. In each
one of these there was a long, rough table,
with benches runbing around it for seats.
When MaeVain entered this place he started
back with horror at the sight that met his
eyes. The hall was crowded with women like
those he had seen on Broadway, whohad taken
refuge here from the cold of the street. Some
were laughing and relating their experiences
of the night with loud words and rude jests,
others were singing the rough street songs of
the day, others were in the stalls, indulging in
such drinks and refreshments as their scanty
means would afford, while many were loung
ing around, waiting for theappearance of some
one from whom they could beg the means to
pay for something to satisfy their hunger or
thirst
When the men entered a crowd gathered
around them, asking for some refreshments.
All sorts of drinks and an endless variety of
dishes were suggested by these, each one
urging her claim to consideration until Mac
- Vain felt sick at heart for the degradation he
a witnessed.
-'Take care, get out of the way," said a
K young girl, pushing the others aside and pre
senting herself before him, "this is a friend of
a mine, and I know he'll stand treat for the
crowd, if you will only keep quiet."
a "My God! Cecelia, you here l" exclaimed
MacVain.
s "Yes; it's me," replied the girl, much suear
d prised that he should remember her, then half
fearing that he would demand a return of the
money she had cheated him out of, she re
I gretted having spoken to him. If she had
known how little he valued money, or yet, if
an idea of why he felt so strong an interest in
I, her had crossed her mind, she would have had
t no such feeling. emeombering how his sombre
a manner had impressed the girl before, and be
lieving that it was the cause of her not return
" ing to him the following day, he resolved not
a to awaken her suspicion by questioning her
too closely, or frighten her away by a reproof
e fr being in such company. Assuming a care
a less freedom he was far from feeling, he ordered
n one of the waiters to take the orders of the
t crowd, and requested Seillwell to join them.
That gentleman was astonished at this change
r in his companion, with whose reserved and
dignified manner he had been deeply impress
ed. Nothing in the city was new to him, how
y ever, and he accepted the invitation with a
y cordial approbation.
_____ I
"How have you been 1" asked MacVain, ad
dressing Cecelia.
"I've been bully, never was sick in my life,"
replied the girl.
'You live in Brooklyn " he said after a
short pause.
"No, I don't," she replied, and then the feel
ing of distrust returning, she added, "I live
in Williamsburg."
- -' Oh! you do!" said MacVain, thinkling that
he had gained one point, " what part of Wil
liamsburgr'
"Two squares from the King's County
Hotel," she replied.
MacVain did not want to question her too
closely, lost he shonld anger or frighten her,
and, therefore, after a short time he withdrew,
followed by Sellwell.
"That's some of New York under ground,"
saidSellwell, as they stood on the corner of the
street.
"A disorderly crowd," replied MaoVain, "and
much to be pitied."
"That's so," replied Sam, glancing at his
watch. "A quarter to ten, well, I'll bid you
good night, sir."
"Good night," replied MacVain, and they
separated.
CIIAPTER X.
Soon after MacVain left the saloon, Cecelia
remembered her engagement with her friends
at Sauderbund's and took her departure also.
The room was in the same order, or disorder,
as when she occupied it before. The few ar
ticles that she had disposed of to Sanderbund
had been rented to the other occupants of the
room. The old table was well covered with
dishes for the evening's entertainment, oysters
in several styles, beefsteak, a chicken salad,
with an abundance of bread, claret wine and
draught ale, being the principal attractions,
to which was added, later in the evening, a
large bowl of smoking hot whiskey punch.
The company consisted of Cecelia's old friends,
Nelly and Sally, who were still inmates of the
room, and Betsy and Jake, who came up from
their room on the next floor. When all were
seated at the table, Cecelia invited them to
make merry and help themselves, a request
which each one proceeded to obey without fur
ther ceremony.
"I'm glad to see you back, Ceely," said Jake,
with his month full.
"" You're eatin' as if you were," said Betsy,
contemptuously.
"Come, Betsy." replied Cecelia, "let him
eat, that's what I want him to do and you too."
"What are you going to do this winterT"
Nelly inquired, as ahe emptied her glass.
" I don't know yet," replied Cecelia, "but I
s'pose I'll sell something and gouge what I
can."
"If I had money," said Jake after a deep
drink of the ale, "I'd go South.'
" What would you do South t" inquired
Betsy.
"Dot I'd beg, or sing, or peddle something,"
he replied.
" I've heard say," said Sally, that folks whot
went down to Mobile, Charleston or New Or
leans did mighty well.
" That's so!" exclaimid Jake, " why, I know
a feller that went South last winter and come
back with over five hundred dollars."
This was a new idea to Cecelia. She had
tried Boston and the neighborhood, but a place
where five hundred dollars could be made in a
single season, seemed to her like a fable.
"Which is the best place to go to t" she
asked.
" They are all good," replied Jake, "but I
expect New Orleans is about the best. DIcli
said it was the liveliest place."
The conversation became general and em
braced such a variety of subjects as they were
conversant with, amongst which the theatre,
circus and negro minstrels were the most
prominent. After they had all satisfied their
appetites, the whiskey punch was placed before
them, and, as in the most aristocratic assem
blages, the fun grew fast and furious. They
told stories, related Jokes and sang songs,
laughed, shouted, and finally Jake danced a
break down for thenm.
"Jake, how much does it cost to go to New
Orleans t" asked Cecelia, when the noise sub
sided a little.
"Depends on how you go," replied Jake. "If
you manage right, you can sponge your way
neerly all through, and if you pay it will
cost-well, may be eighty or a hundred dol
lars."
" What do you know about it F" said Betsy,
who had been taking liberally of the whiskey
punch.
" I know, 'cos Dick told me," said Jake, "and
you better hold your jaw, you had."
" Oh ! yes," replied Betsy, between a cry and
a storm of rage, 'get up a quarrel now, you're
always pickin at me, always a finding fault."
" Hush up now," said Jake, 'yopire drunk
as usual-"
" Am I Am I ?" cried Betsy, "drunk as usu
al, hey 1 Who earns the money-say how much
have you made these six weeks? who paid old
Sanderbund the rent last month, yes and this
one toot"
"Are you going to stop t" cried Jake, seizing
a chair.
" No, I ain't," replied the girl.
"Won't you t" sa'd he, raising the chair
over his head, when Cecelia stepped in be
F tween them.
" Not here Jake," she said firmly.
" Not here," he repeated, surprised at the in
terruiption.
" No, and if I was Betsy, nowhere else."
" What would you do "- he inquired with a
I sneer.
" I'd break your head or stab youn; you never
would strike another woman, that's certain I"
i replied Cecelia, her eyes flashing with anger.
' ell, you and I ain't got no quarrel," he
replied, shrinking back from her piercing look;
" I don't want to offend you, I'm sure."
"Then shake hands with Betsy," replied Ce
celia. "and let us drink once more-to every
body's good health."
Peace being thus restored, they all applied
themselves once more to the punch until the
last drop was gone, when after many good
wishes Betsy and Jake retired to their room,
and the others pretty'well overcome with their
potations sought their rude beds in the cor
ners.
As the night advanced, the wind grew more
furious, and the clouds that whirled through
the sky gave promise of a speedy storm, which
the severity of the weather told must be snow.
About one o'clock in the morning, the wind
lulled a little, although still very high and the
air seemed to grow more intensely cold, every
thing was freezing hard and fast. The police
men drew their great coats close about them
and hugged close to the corners and friendly
door-ways. Such citizens as were yet on the
streets hurried on their way, bending over as
they went, thus to catch less of the wind, and
drawing their bodies close together, so it
seemed, to avoid the piercing cold while their
breath turned to ice, covering their comfor
ters, mufflers and collars as they went quickly
on. Save by these few passers, the streets
were quiet, and for once the great city seemed
to be asleep.
Suddenly there came a gleam of light against
the sky, scarcely perceptible at first, and then
a glare shown over the district near the Tombs,
while from all around tie load voices of the
watchmen raised and reiterated the cry of
"Fire T Fire? Fire t"
Then came the dlig, doug, clatter, bang, of
the bells, and in less time than it would take
to tell it, halfu-dozn engines, followed by the
brave and devoted men who were to man them,
were rushing through the streets, with the
speed of race horses, indifferent to the pier
cing cold. Now down Center street they come,
then around the corner, and in a moment more
the first stream of water is playing against
the walls of Sanderbnud's tenement house.
Another and another company came quickly
upon the scene, until the whole available
force of the department was on the ground
and hard at work.
"Now boys, hurry up, for God's sake don't
let us be last," cried a man, lire hat in hand,
running along the line of men of a Hook and
Ladder Company. The company dashed along,
onward, faster and faster until they arrived at
the scene of the fire.
"Now loosen them ladders quick," said the
foreman, the same man who had encouraged
them on the road down.
"Where do you want them, Sellwell ?"
"Get 'em off and we'll see," answered the
foreman-our old dry goods friend, Sam Sell
well.
•' Bring one of yer ladders over here, Sam,"
said the foreman of one of the engine com
panies, "here's a woman in the third story."
The fire had commenced, it seemed, in the
lower story, and must have worked with won
derful rapidity, for all the lower doors were
closed, and excepting the woman at the third
story window, no sign of life had yet come
from the house. The flames were already
shooting out of the windows of the second
story and lapping the lower part of the house
in a great sheet of fire.
"bThe devil himself couldn't stand that
heat," said one of the men as be attempted to
raise the ladder against the burning house.
" For God's sake hurry," cried the woman,
appearing again, and now with a child in her
arms.
"Up with the ladder, up with it, hurrah
now" cried Sam.
" hen there came a wild shriek of horror,
pain and agony and the woman disappeared,
and in a moment more the flames were seen
shooting wildly up against the ceiling and
around the wood-work of the room she had oc
cupied.
Those who had composed the little party in
Cecelia's rood, had retired to bed more than
an hour before and slept heartily after the in
dulgenoies of the night. Jake was first to hear
the noise and hardly knew for some moments,
what to make of it. When fully aroused he
sprang from bed and in doing so aroused Bet
sy Where are you going, Jake I" she asked.
" 'm going to get out of this," he answered
in a hasty, angry tone, "don't you hear, you
sleepy-head, the house is on fire ?"
"Uo ire, oh! my God !" exclaimed the wo
man, springing up, "what will we do, what
will we dot'
"Do! get out of this," be said starting for
the door.
"Take me, Jake," she cried, catching hold of
him, "take me along Jake."
"Let me go " he said, trying to shake her off.
" Oh ! don't leave me, Jake!" she pleaded,
"what will I do-don't leave me, oh! for God's
sake, don't leave me."
" Let me go, you fool," he cried, pushing
her rudely from him and hurrying down the
hall. When he reached the stairs, he ran down
them, in his hurry passing two or three steps
at a time. When he reached the curve of the
stairs his foot slipped, and stumbling forward
he came head foremost on to the floor, which,
rotten by years of use and weakeued by the
flames that had been burning against it, now
gave way beneath him, and as he uttered a
foul imprecation on his soul, he was hurled
below, striking a burning rafter here and a
projecting plank there, until at last, senseless
and almost lifeless, he was stretched out on
the heap of burning tinmbers on the ground
floor. Betsy had followed him to the stairs,
witnessed his ftall and as the flames shot an
grily up through the hole miade by his passing
body, she could go no further, but stood call
ing in a wild .rounzy, "Fire, tire, fire."
Through all this not a movement had been
beard on the upper story of the building. Ce
celia slept soundly, and dreamed of the scenes
she had passed through during the summer.
Then her mind wandered to the storied fields
I of the South, and viasionsofmangoes, bannanas I
e and tropical flowers, ladened with heavy per
1 fumes, filled her dreams. At last there came a
confused noise, she thought some one was call
ing her, then there was the sound of many
voices, and she started from her bed, half
'asleep, to hear Betsy's horrid cry of "Fire,
fire." . -
"Nelly, Sally, get up," she cried, pushing
the sleeping girls with her feet while she hlir
* riedly put on some of her clothes. "Nelly, i
I wake up ! Nelly, Sally, don't you hear t"
e " What ? what is it Ceely t' they both in
P quired.
' " Come," she replied, "hurry up, the house
is on fire! Listen! My God! we will all be
burned up!" a
They all heard the cries in the street, the
dull, measured stroke of the engines as the
I men worked on them, and the oracklir.g, hiss- t
t ing noise of the faiues as they raged and t
rolled nearer an& nearer, while ever and anon,
above all, came Betsy's cry of"fire fire."
Cecelia rushed out into the hall, where the a
smoke and heat were almost overpowering, t
l and comprehending the position at a glance,
called to Betsy, who was yet standing by the
t stair-way below.
" Come here, Betsy, if you stand there
screaming you will never escape. Come here, e
a quick, up with you and we will see what we f
f can do."
She then ran to the end of the ball, threw t
f open the front window and called to the men
s in the street below. The occupants of the
e other rooms on the floor, men, women and
children, to the number of thirty or forty,
were now coming out, crying, screaming,
wringing their bands and running to and fro.
The scene was terrible below them, the fire t
raged fiercely, approaching nearer each mo
ment, the crisping and hissing of the flames
was painfully distinct, the smoke swept I
through the hallin choking, blinding clouds
and the heat grew more and more intense.
There seemed no chanoe of escape but by the
front windows, and to leap through them b
would be certain death on the stone paved
street below. a
"Bring that long ladder here," cried Sam, I
as Cecelia appeared at the window above;
"hurry up, let's make one more effort to save
them." n
The ladder was brought and placed against ti
the burning house, but the heat was so great
that the men could scarcely stand by it. "Who r
in h- can go up therer' said one of the men, t
"just look at that flame, it would roast a fel
ler before he could get up." A
"Stand aside," said Sam, preparing to as- C
cend; "it never shall be said they burned to
death without an attempt at rescue from us." P
"But look, Sam," remonstrated the man, m
"who could go through that 1"
" Who ever saw a true fireman afraid, when R
human life was to be saved," said Sam, firmly. t1
"I say, George," le continued, addressing a
man with one of the pipes, "just turn your
stream on me and keep it there all the way a
p."
The man obeyed and Sam began to ascend.
Soon two other streams are turned on him and
his ladder, and his progress was watched with a
breathless interest by all of the immense b
crowd assembled. On he went, now he comes
to where the heat is fiercest, and hesitates for a
one brief moment only; but what a thrill went
th rough the crowd, and on be goee-now he
nears the window and-he is inside. A sud
den thought seized the fire bound victims and t
with one accord they rushed for the window
to throw themselves out upon the ladder. In
1 vain did Sam talk to them, calling on them to I
- wait, to go with care or help each other to es
cape. Some in their hurry missed their foot
ing and fell,children were pushed entirelyont, b
m and thus hurled to the street below. A few
clinging to the ladder were bruised and tramp
r led others above them, or burned by the
flames that darted up and flashed around them.
The firemen kept their streams steadily on the
ladder and thus kept a few from perishing.
Atlast the ladder was clear once more and his s
companions called loudly for Sam to come
i down.
Cecelia had retired when the rush began, and t
now that it was over, she approached the win
- dow and looked out from the giddy leight.
Through all this time she had been terribly
quiet, so quiet that it seemed as if reason had
r left her; and as she looked out of the window
her courage failed and she turned away again.
f "Come, 'll help you," said Sam, "let me step I
out and then you hold on to me and we'll go
down together."
" No, no, I can't," she replied shuddering, "to
fall there would be certain death."
"To remain here is certain death !" exclaim
ed Sam, and he caught her firmly in his arms
and stepped forth. The shout of delight that
his brother firemen sent up, as Sam appeared
on the ladder, was hearty and prolonged. All
the streams of water in the neighborhood
i were turned upon him at once and as he des
cended step by step, cheer after cheer was giv
u en, and when he reached the ground in saety
v with the rescued girl, the members of his com- I
a pany relieved him of the burden, and he was
d almost overpowered with praises and congrat
Sulations.
a (To be continued.)
Efforts are being made in Philadelphia to start a daily 1
. Catholi' paper. Why abhould not this be possiole in all I
the large cities of the United States ? We trust the I
1- day is not distant when Yew Orleans will have its daily
paper.
Union of Catholics.
Amidst the ruins which revolution has
caused in society, and corrupting politieal
and civil authority at its very source,
sweeping away the institutions to which a
Catholic spirit had given birth and work
ing an entire change in the manners and.
customs which it had originated and form
ed, the Church still lives and flourishes in
undiminished, if we might not rather say
increased vigor; for union is strength, and
never did a closer union of love and obe
dience unite the whole body of the faithful
or the episcopate and clergy to the univer
sal pastor, the common father, of all. We
see in this union the hope of salvation to
the world, as well as the pledge of triumph
to the the Church, whose triumph can alone
bring about that salvation. It is indeed a
splendid spectacle-this blessed union of
the Catholic people of every land and. of
every condition, brought up under institu
tions most widely different, and subjects of
every variety of government, in one stead
fast creed, in one holy cause, in one spon
taneous protest and demand. From north
and south, from east and west, from the
whole face of th.e earth, arises the nitedl
voice of this people, who alone possess a
true principle of union, which is found in
their common citizenship of that "city
which has foundations, whose builder and
maker is God." The Sovereign Pontiff lhas
proclaimed that the only true principles to
the world, and has met in response with
blasphemies; but he has had another re
sponse which comes from the heart and
will of the faithful Catholic people. Like
the Holy Father, they will accept no con
nection, with evil or with impiety, and
they are now loudly proclaiming their
resolution from one end of Christendom to
the other; nor will they rest or cease their
agitation and clamor until they see the
Church triumph over its enemies.and op
pressors. Reviewing the present move
ment among the Catholics of the whole
world, the London Tablet truly says, that
the present conflict is one in which no Ca
tholic man woman or child who has arrived
at the age of full reason, can be dispensed
from taking a share according to the mea
sure of the capacity of each. The Vicar
of Christ has-himrself declared that all are
bound to unite in defence of religion and
of the rights of the Holy See, and he has
pointedly renewed this declaration in alet
ter which he has lately deigned to address
to the Catholic youth of Madrid. Ques
tions may sometimes arise which have a
very important bearing on the interests of
the Church, yet this connection may not
be so obvious but that the uninstructed
may be excused from not perceiving it.
Inaction in stch cases need not imply reli
gions indifference. The present ease does
not belong to this class. It is intelligible
and patent to all, the most ignorant as the
most cultivated; and whosoever is not
moved at hearing of the indignities and
outrages heaped on the Father of Christen
dom and the persecution and spoliation
which the Church is suffering, and who is
not ready to unite heart and soul in a holy
league for their libertion, is unworthy of
the name of Catholic.
The Rev. G. Davidson, a minister of Colestone. and a
man who is promilingly scientific, asserts that the mra
son of the g:eat number of Uilegitimate births in Beat
land is due to the oatmeal eaten by Soet. nlace that
edible "oootains a great deal of phosphoraus, and ha a
tendency to inflame the passlons." A New York Pro
testant cotemporary pokes fun at the Rev. moralist in
this wise: 'In its ultimate essence oatmeal is therefore
an extremely immoral dish, and deserve reprehensio a.
But the gentleman who thus implladly opposes the eat
ing thereof is a clergyman who probably keeps Lent.
Now, Lent is not only a oommemorattve fast, but one
whioh is mOant to subdue unruly passions; on this ac
count ah may be partaken of, but not meet. Fish, as
Is well known, oontalns an enormous amount of phos
phorus, which is an aphrodisiac; on scienfiso princi
ples Lent them defete its own object, and deserves ns
less suammary suppression than oatmeal. We woald not
urge the point, but may not Presbyterian oatmeal be
fair stoff to yicopalan th tI