Newspaper Page Text
a,.J- r..ss .. aa . 3Ea.. , wit o aproval of t swt
. . ae erI th ority .aftha e D.ltno n qrlast,,au. admitted wsat in Ne*o i .. . .. ma, d,,o, to tai TheaDIsassefr bseOmpase are p t an Alad Eeast Bev. Ahb ishOp N. J. ?P8sse the peurmsay oato dthe I Rev. (. raYrMOxD, me aen. of whteh Is owd he J. Xoraz, do i. ars, n ertha saandohsr s, T. . J. nr, . dollas soah. Joan FLaxxAoAZ. . JoaN T. Gasosx i ' ase .A . Tao . 0. 3M Asr . saaz* . takain"•..* a mP, *m m n it All eeammalestrsn to * b*I ad dresse to the t J.M. Amonasos oa r , ta 3.1. . . .a ,owmanu .... ýolslaslm o_.--o l6 dar1 ss. .. "HOW BEAUTIFUL ARE. THE FEET OF THEE THAT BRIING GLAD TIDINGS OF GOOD THINGSI" -ea- llrserAnnm VOLU IV. NhW ORLEANS, SUNDAY MORNING, APRIL 16, 1871, NUM wi Morning Star and Catholic Messenger. ,, 52W ORLI AWS, .UYDAT. APRIL 16. 1871. For the Morning staraud atbeiioo P MARDI GRAS; A Tale of Ante Bellum T tb BY Ta. LZNKINwATZB. be iContinnedi sh CUAPTER XI. ti The sun rose clear and bright gilding the an nrch spires and house tops with a ood of of ghtc)eering wherever it penetrated, and dis- de elling all thoughts of the storm that had th e so imminent the night before.. It was eI calm winter's morning, and, although the pl d were leafless, and the grees was withered d brown, the warm rays of the san made a as leasant mellow light, making it seem like a in y in that loveliest of seasons, Indian sum- a er. The busy hum of the .eturning current to of merchants, clerks, needle women and labor as they came from their homes across the fo wo rivers, or from the upper part of the is- se d, soon grew strong, and the preparations to or the days business were noticeable on every- In here. The boys at Barege, Muslin & Co's., at ere sweeping out and dusting, the porters m do great piles of calicoes and domestics a d hung out attractive shawls at the doors, hi e clerks who came early were arranging and w rting up their stocks and everybody about is e store was busy. ti " We'll have a fine day after all," said Mr. tt Droll, who was marking a lot of handker- ti chiefs that had just come in. ca "Yes, we are likely to do a good trade," re- of plied Sam, with a look at the agreeable warmth outside, "and the more the merrier." for I just vi want a roaring trade to keep me alive to-day." ii "Youtre 'owly,' to-day, heyf" said Peter, rc "were you at a aire or frolic last night " ft "A little of both, especially the fire busi- as nees," replied Sam. "Eh! gad, yon ought to to have been there, you never would have wished w to see another fire." o " What was it, Sam." " A tenement house, chock full of people, fc not more than a dozen of whom were saved," s1 Sreplied Sam. "Such a eight! My God! to hear b the poor people shrieking for help! Well, all a I've got to say-good morning madam, mourn- It ing collars f Yes, madam, a fine lot." 1I At this moment Philip came in, and being ti Slate, was met at the door by Mr. Crape, who a angrily nquired where he had been ; but k Philip seeing Mr. Muslin near the lace stock, a S-pped.over to him and made his explanation. is , was up nearly all night," he said, :'with a ti friend who has been very ill for a long time, 1 and died this morning." tl "Indeed, Philip," replied Mr. Muslin, "I am c sorry to hear it. Any of your uncle's family" p "No, sir," said Philip, "an old lady who e lived near nus, and as they have no one to as sist, I should like to be absent until to-morrow n afternoon." " Very well, Philip," replied Mr. Muslin. "What is the news ?" asked Mr. Droll, as be I came forward. ". She is dead," replied Philip. "Poor old lady, I am very sorry," said Mr. I i Droll. "How is ary 1 "8he is very quiet, but seems to feel her loss d '"" very much." f+ " Yes. yes, poor girl," replied Peter, "it's a a terrible loss to her." "I am going to see about the funeral," said e Philip, "and 'il sit up there to-night." "I'll come over," repliedPeter; "I will be with you about nine o'clock and keep yo tuou-, pany in your watch." Mrs. Collins had been failing very rapidly, and the physieian who had been waiting on I - her, had long known that he could do nothing more than give her temporary relief from i pain, and make her death more tranquil and i easy. When Philip called the previous even ing, Mary said that hermother was much worse, and when be went into the room he was sur prised at the change which had taken place since the morning. He insisted upon remain ing during the night so that he might help SMary in the trying time that he knew was now close at hand. Mrs. Collins looked up, when he spoke, and recognized him with a smile and a kind salutation, after which all were quiet again. She was quite free from pain and breathed softly and freely, except a slight rat tle now and then, which seemed to annoy her more by its strangeness,than by any pain it gave. About midnight the death look became more distjnct, lIcleyds wandered uneasily about the room, and Mary, thinking that she wanted a drink, gently raised her up and of fered her some, but she still continued to look anxious. " What will you have, dear ?" asked-Mary. "I am-going now-Mary-I know-I can not live--" "Oh! no, no, no, dear, do not think of that," said Mary. "Yes, ~ ary-I must-I cannot put it off" and she looked at Philip. "What is it, mother dear?" said Mary ten dery. .'Io- am not-" again she passed and S looed anxiously at Philip. "Will you have the priest, mother dear?" asked Mary. "Yes-yes--quick Mary-quick." Mary requested Philip to go to the Cathedral for one of the Fathers, which he did at once. During his absence Mrs. Collins talked to Mary a much as her strength would it, ad vised her abont her future life, and unburden ed to her the few thoughts that had laid buried in her mind for years, and gave her an outline of the history of the family, many of the facts and incidents of which were new to Mary. When Philip returned with the priest, she in was quite calm ag1al and received the Father ni with evident satfestion; ca After this she fell into a gentle sleep, so peaceful and calm that the watchers. were al most peresuaded that she was getting better wl and would soon be out again. ti About four o'clockshe awoke; and requested at that shy-might be allowed to sit up in bed. fr Mary rased her with tender care and held her ap head in her arms, while Philip arranged' the ea pillows so that they would asppprt her when If she was laid back again. WhIe in this i tion, she looked lovingly into Mar' faace, as smiling upon her, and sayng with the depth in of true heart-feeling, "God bles y, Mary, dear," she quietly passed away* her faeu brs ax the peaceful repose of an Intint's in deep' to sleep, and Mary laid her back upon the snowy at pillows-dead. at The peighbore eame in early in the morning and kindly assisted in the aragements, lay- a ing her out in the parlor of`thelittle house, and preparig Mary for the funeral, which was Ci to tame plac nest day. bi When Mr.Droll came over in the esening he as found all these preparations copoladed, and si several of the neighbors who hadbome in, some fa to stay all night, and others to spend the even- h ing. The furniture was arranged with care, t and the few ornaments of the room were re- hi moved or covered up. The remains, dressed in b a black silk dress, were exposed on a large ta- it ble covered with drapery of white,over which at I were strewn flowers and evergreens, arranged tb t in wreathes, boqueta ant festoons. Around a the corpse wax candles were burning, and at k the head a large rucifix was pleced. Many of 0 the callers noon entering made the sign of the g cross, and kneeling, said a prayer for the rest y of the soul of the deceased. i For an hour or two after Mr. Droll arrived, h I visitors wur comla 4ging, each one say ing some kind d or o g some consoling refleetion to Mary, who sat by one of the little ii front windows, her heart-too fhll of grief and a sadness, for relief through the medium of it a tears. She felt that now she was alone in the w I world, there was no. relative to whom she Is could go, no friend upon whom sh-could rely, y or from whom she had a right to expect com fort or assistance. Alone in the world I The ' strong man loses mother, father or wife, and I, r he feels alone in the world. The woman, with a 1 a mind fully formed, trained and educated, S loses these dear friends upon whom she has a leaned for support and kindness and she feels d g that she is now alone in the world I And these ti o are terrible. But Mary was a mere child, lh t kindly and tenderly cared for, raised to love e and cherish home and home influences, taught J i. in the paths of virtue and goodness, her mind d trained to adore and venerate the Church, a ,, Her Redeemer, and God. .How unprepared for d the battle of life was that innocent, confiding t a child I The change from this home, humble and a plain as it was, to the rough, designing, wick- 5 o ed world, would begreat-very great. ,- As the night wore on, the watehers became t r more sociable and passed away the time in a conversation. "The old lady looks very natural," said Mrs. I .e Boddice, a broad shouldered,goodnatured lady, e who kept a small variety store over the way. o "As true as life," replied Miss Catherine, an I r. Irish servant girl, who had known Mrs. Col- t lin's folks In the "ouldeountry," "nice well-to- a sa do people they were too," she often said. "She was an exellent lady," said Mr. Droll, a as he took a seat near them. a " Ye might well say that, aur," replied Cath- I d erine, "she was a well eggioated woman, as a was her mother before her." S "You knew her at homer' inquired Peter. a a- "I didn't know herself much," repliedCathe rine, "she was older thfi me. I remember well I y, when she was married to Mr. Collins, and a s in few days after left to come to this country. I ig was quite young then, but I never shall forget e mn how handsome she looked and how beautiful. a id Miss Sarah Murray was as the bridesmaid. It c a- was the handsomest sight I ever saw." e, " I have talked with her often about the old a r- country," said Peter. 4 He " Her folks had a nice farm, and everything n- comfortable," replied Catherine, "and were Ip well connected, the mother was a born lady. I w knew the younger children, and lived once in for a short time with the family." le "She came to this country while she was re youn, I have often heard her say." ad Yee, her husband was mixed up in poli at- ties and was crazy to come to a free country," ier replied the girl. it " Thousands have left their homes," replied no Peter, "for no other reason. The persecutions ily that have cursedtbhat country have been a be great benefit to this, by bending out many a of- good and brave man to seek a home here." ok "Oh I that's true," said the girl. "Now there was the young Squire, he was suspected of r. having something to do with trying to get up an- a revolution and was compelled to sell out and leave. Ah I that was a fine estate, a whole t," country side which bad belonged to his family for generation after generation. He was afine '- looking young man and never a tenant was distressed by him or his fathers." en- " It was a sad thing for an old family to be broken up so." md "MSo it was, sir, and one of the best in the country," replied Catherine. "Before the ra? union, as they call it, they belonged to the no bility of the land, and forTliir opposition to Inglish rule and the abuses heaped upon our Iral country, their titles were taken away and their ace. estates cut down, and after all the young |ry Squire was compelled to leave. I don't re ad- member the charges brought against b' him len- I hae often heard the people>,r.ses for the tied and Sarah Murrey. She w . intelligent girl, line family, a.very handsol ,, In love with tte and tue ouiksg bt of course their positions in life were too different to admit of their hi union. After he sold out and came to Amerr- sa ca, she came out here also." c "pid they get married 1" asked Mr. Droll. to "Oh!ino. He lives way down south some- tb whereandshe lived here. It is only a short tb time since I was speaking to Mrs. Collins ti I about her; she and Sarah were always good M Sfrieds, Sarah died very suddenly, while sl Spenditg some time in Troy. I don't think she ax ever saw the Squire after she came out here. p1 i If she did no one ever knew it." di " Very ml, such breaking up of families," or said Mrs. Boddice, who had sat quietly listen- ox ing to this conversation. at ,t's swful,"- : lied Catherine, "but friends as Sare iena in life and death, and Mrs. Collins it 2 told me that she knew Sarah was dead before t h she heard of it through the papers, because ra she saw the banshee." as " You don't believe in the banshee, do you'" or asked Philip, who now joined the circle. Ut "Not believe in the banshpe e1'exolaimed as a Catherine, "there's nothing truer than the oi babshee. Sure my own cousin saw her. You a see, coansl John was much in love with my ti I sister Mary, a lovely girl, the darlin' of the rJ s family. It was no wonder that John loved a - her, for everybody done that, and so he wasn't ti , to blame. But you know the holy Church for- t bids such marriages, and me mother wouldn't t a ha' listened to it at all. Mary loved John, and it I in truth he was as fine a young man as ever an h struck a blow for the oulndeountry or emigrated al t to free America to esompe oppression and t1 d wrong. One morning John he comes up to t Mary, as she was standing at the front door, oc if God love her, and he says, ' Mary, darlin', I'm w e goin' aroes to the good country, and won't ri it you come along t' John, I can't, because a mother would never forgive it.' 'Sure, Mary,' Is i, he says, 'an' after the knot's tied and all over, as your mother will say God bless yoe' ' Now, o1 g Jolm de' says she, an' heaven restthe ar. II lin', Joh,' says she, ' yon know the Father ai d would not marry as.' ' The onld man will do sa f it,' says John,' an', if he don't, the Squire ti e wilL' 'John, John,' says Mary, her eyes e standin' out wid horror, 'I didn't think, John, a , ou'd speak so disrespectful of our Holy bh Mother, the Church.' Is it I,' says John, a, e ' would say anything agsinst the Church I not oi d I, my darlin, but sure it we played a httle trick de h on them, and got the Squire to do the Job , first, they would add their blessings after- la a wards.' 'No, no, John,' she says, ' I never can w Is do anything behind backs, like, an' yon better ca a try an' find some one more deserving of your al i, love, John,' and so,-after a long talk, they sep e orated, both of them feeling very sad indeed. dl it John be came to America, and from that very is d day Mary kept failing in health, just pining to i, away like. Now, one morning, it was a sun- ti ir day morning, and John was Iayia' abed later an g than usual, mind, he were here inNew York, h d and we were in the ould country. In his room p t- there wus a pair o' stairs, which led up into b the-room over head. He looked up, as he lay ri ie there in bed, and who should he see but me c, u sister Mary, a comin' down the stairs. He was li surprised and sat up in bed, and she, looking s P. him right in the face, kept on down stairs, b r, came round the foot of the bed, up to the side t1 of it, and stood there, looking steadily at him. v a Her face was very pale, but natnral, and her E 1- big brown eyes seemed filled with compassion Ib a- andlove for him. That way shestoodformore'n a a minit, and then-she was gone hbow or where a 1, hecould not tell. At tbatvery moment, in these si arms of mine, me sister Mary, Our Holy Mother b 1- pray for her, took her departure for a better b as and happier world." This story, told in a low, full tone of voice, t r. and with an earnestness that left no chance to r e- doubt the speaker's sincerity, told, too, in the , 11 presence of death itself, made quite an impres a sion on all present. c I "The old country is full of legends of inter- 1 et eat," said Mr. Droll, after a brief silence, "and in II. my own country it is the same. .There's not a s It crag, or peak, or rocky pass but has its wild s story of former days. In our town there lived, e Id and, for aught I know, lives there yet, a sturdy old fellow, by the name of Hugh McFall. lie ag was a brawny, roaring boy, a good worker at. re his trade of blacksmith, and when at his forge I I could make the sparks fly with the next man , ce who came along, no matter who he was. Hugh 4 was s-good man to his family, a wife, a gentle, a as kind-hearted creature, and four or five healthy, I blooming children, and for all the country 1 1i- round there was not a man more esteemed as a , h," mechanic, nor more welcome as a friend, than jolly Hugh McFall. But Hugh loved his pot ed and his glass, and, after a few weeksoefteady ins toil, on an extra good job, he was sure to wind a up at the public house of the town, and there a spend his money, and an hour or two, or may hap a whole night of drinking and carousing tre with a lot of boon companions. He was an of inveterate card player, and would play day or up night, tunday or Monday and never knew d when to stop. This cost him nearly all ale his earnings, and at times his poor family ily would be distressed for food. One Sunday mne night he was coming home from drinking and 'as card playing, and had to pass through a po tato field for a near cut. When he came be to the stile-where he had to cross the fence, a strange man, very well dressed, was standing the there, apparently waiting for him. 'Good the evening, Mr. McFall,' said the stranger. 'Good no- evening, sir,' says Hugh, 'but you have the ad to vantage of me.' 'Oh, tiat's nothing,' re led our the stranger, "I have that of d would eir ple. I know you wail ....e nd woLd ike to play ame of cards with you.' 'Not gh. says Hugh. 'Oh, come man, it's a ism hghte oo light night, and we may as well im hve a little fun,' replied the stranger. ' No, the I'm going home,' nsisted Hugh. ' Yo better irl, try me a While,' says the stranger, ' I'd like rith Ute fun just now.' 'But Ive bbhgteu ling,' one replied Hugh, and I'm going home.' ' I have heard you were the best player in the town,' says thestranger, as~ he produed a paeek of I eards, and now you back out when I ask you c to play.' The sight of the cards, coupled with this banter, was too much for Hugh, and so i they pt down by a large, tt stone that lay in t the 'iaddef ' or foot path, and began to play Money was staked by both, and paled up be- t aide tlem on the stone. Hugh won and lost, I and no did the stranger, irhen, after they bad a played for nearly an hour, Hugh accidentally dropped one of his cards, and, when he stooped t over to pick it p, his eyes came near flying out of their oekets, far, lo, and behold the y traner, badl'. cloven foot! RBeovering him self, Hugh who was a Catholic, hastily made y the aig of the cross. 'What do you mean by t that r exclaime4 the stranger, getting up in a rage. RoHugh dbvoutly repeated the action, r saying the words aloud wen the stranger at I once vanished and Hugh hastened home. From d that day he never touched a card, or got drunk t again, but many a time he told of his game of cards with the devil." a Mary bad been absentfrom the room for some time, and returned as Mr. Droll finished his sto ry. Her black clothes, pale and bare-worn face, and sorrowful expression, as she looked at them, hereyn made peculiarly and unnatural ly bright by the excitement and trouble through which she was passing, made a deep 1 impression on the watchers. In a quiet man ner, which showed how great was the emotion she had subdnel within her heart, she asked t them to go into the back room. Here they fountl prepared for them a lunch of coffee, bread and butter and boiled ham, c whieh they partook of heartily, chatting du ring the time about the weather, fashions and general topics oeinterest of the day. Return- t fug to the ptlo, after a look at the corpse and some slNa about the life-like looks of lMr.ts. ii y once more took theirseats. MAry had dmd- her seat near the window, ] and, although the night was well nigh gone, she gently but firmly refused all entreaties that she should retire to rest. " That people do sometimes revisit the earth after death," said Mrs. Boddice, that subject having been introduced by Mr. Droll, "there a are many persons who will testify, persons 4 of such character and standing that their evi dence is beyond question." C "We have a thousand such tales in Boot- C land," replied Peter, "but'l thought those who saw the wonders were like Burns, when counting the horns of the moon,' but whather v she had three or four, he cndna tell'" "That is the popular idea," said Mrs. Bod dice, " people hoot at such things beaeuse it 13 is fashionable to do so. What I am going to t tell you rests on too good authority to be ques tioned, except by those who are determined t not to believe. In our church, down here, we c had a sexton, who.served there for many years. Old Joe was knovn everywhere and esteemed t by all who knew 'him. He was a pious, up right maan, as near a saint as human nature can be. He would deny himself evey comfort, live on the least possible moiety, that lie might a save his salary and the alms that were given him, and with this money he would hunt out the deserving poor, and assist them, and few, t very few' people ever knew of his obarities. Every morning, long before daylight, he would be In the church, doing the stations, saying I sonime litany or prayer, and throughout the day and night much of his time was spent in the same manner. So well known were his pious habits, and so highly was be esteemed, that be was frequently requested by people of the parish and from other parishes, too, to pray for their deceased friends, or the conversion or I return to the Church of sinners. These charges were always accepted by Joe with evident satisfaction. I think I see him now, that good I old man, so tall and straight, With no extra flesh on him, a nuscular man, used to austerity and penance in his personal habits, but with I a face fall of expression, so kind and gentle, I and the finest, most expressive dark brown eyes I ever saw. One of the members of the church died and was buried,it's no use wound s ing feelings by mentioning names, for he has a Slarge family living here yet, but I will call e him MNV B. About six weeks after Mr. B's a death, as good old Joe was saying the stations h early one morning, he felt s6mething run i, against him like a man. He got up and r, looked around, but nothing was tobe seen. He y knelt again, and was again jostled, and this a continued so that he could scarcely say his n prayers. This continued for several days. it Whenever Joe entered the church he was rnn y against, pushed and jostled around so that he d could hardly attend to his duties or say e his devotions. Finally he went to his confes F- sor, and asked his advice, giving him a history ig of all that had happened, and the good Father s advised Joeto spea and ask what was wanted. ir He had no sooner returned to the ehurch than w the same demonstrations were commenced, ll and, making the sign of the cross, he demand iy ed, in God's name, what was wanted, when, 'y right there before him Mr. B. appeared, Just as d he had often seen him in life. 'What do you o- want V asked Joe, again blessing himself. ' I me want you to make a restitution for me.' said es, Mr. B. or what had been him when he -ss alive, and I can never rest ntil idone. 'Very well, what shall I dox hr JoI kept. Go d to ... hou go -l - .n nnx where I kept my AuiY- ri 'i you will find. a watch, a fine Spv u h which I never need, because I came y it uejpstly. Tell my wife to give it to you, d and take t to Mr. D., to whom it belongs.' Joe ot not only promised to do this, but also to pray a for the poor sinner. He went to the house and ll told Mrs. B. what had happened, and they to o, gether looked for the watch and found it. It er was avery valuable article, and Mrs. B. refused ke to give it up, saying that Joe had been dream ,' ing and she did not believe Mr. B. had come by ve the watch dishonestly. While she was talking -f'- her huaband appeared in the room and ted her to give the watch to Joe. She di so, of course, and Joe took it to Mr. D., who at once recognized it and was glad to get it back again. The family were very mush dies tressed about the matter for fear it would: be come known, which it never would, it some of them had not had long tongues and told it. However, very few people have heard it and I suppose it will go no farther." The first faint light of morning was by this time appearing in the eaet and the friends got up and walked around the room, through the yard, and finally took their departure. At ten o'clock a few friends assembled, and the un pretending funeral procession took up its way to the cemetery, where the last solemn services of the church were performed, and the ground received the mortal remains of one, who when living had well and faithfully discharged her duties to her family and to society, and with truth and sincerity, as weu as frail human nature may, had sought to follow the teachings and precepts of her Divine Master. (To be continued.) "What about the Cathollo Newsiaper T" The following article appeared in the Western Catholic, of April 8, and by a note in another part of the paper we learn that the writer " is an eminent priest of one of the regular orders, whose talents as an orator and writer are well known among the clergy and people of the West." That the Catholics of the United States are not sufficiently impressed with the importance of a Catholic press, is lamentably too true. Bishops and priests have urged its claims on the faithfal, and been themselves moat generous patrons. But, we regret to say, a deplorable apathy exists, which is as un accountable as it is disreputable. It is little creditable that, with eight million Catholics, there is not one daily paper under Catholic influence in these United States. Is there a necessity for it Let as see. Last week the Administrator of Finance of this city delivered a speech in the Council, re Electing in the most damaging manner on the conduct of our charities. In effect, their managers were characterizel as hypo critical speculators.' Every daily paper in this city published the charge among the proceedings. To reply through a weekly, , such as ours, -ould hardly suit the case, , as it would no" m'eet the eye of one in a r hundred of those who read the administra- ! tor's disparagtng remarks. A pung mer- i chant pf this city wrote a reply, and design- 4 ing its-publication, was refused a hearing in two of the daily papers of this city, which derive no small support from the co religionists of the parties aspersed. To the honor of the Bulletin, our friend found a medium of communication to the public, and that, too, not at the expense of a picayune, nor doing aught which would compromise an honest man in these trucu lent times. The following is the article alluded to above. Human nature has ever proved a riddle, in the variety ot its manipulations; and such it wilt continue to be till the end of time, no matter what inlutience may be brought to bear upon it, or in what circumstances it may flrd itself. This seeming riddle might probably be solved by one who should be, at onu, an able physiologist and a profound theologian But as I do not lay claim to either of thee" titles, I shall leave the solution unattemrped, and, taking the known fact as granted, make some practical observations upon it. Is i not true that all of us Catholics earnestly vish to see our religious views respected, arJ dar Christian practices ably defended sgsmet the calumnies and aspersions of either tba wilful elanderer or the ignorant bigott I a, sure that such is the desire of every true Csaolic. Now, do we al ways act consistently with the wish of our I, hearts Experience ells us, no. As a body, although earnestly actiesl in many respects, we are sadly deficiat in others. No doub, we have plenty of Caholio books, doctrinal, con 1 troversial, histoleal and critical, in which all I that ras been aid or could be said against us d eas been refuted in a masterly manner; yet I s fear not to Assert that this is not suMoient to cause as to lie lazily upon our oars, indulging the thought that nothing more is left for us to r do than quietly to work out our individual e salvation. Socially, we have not been made e exclusively fur ourselves ; and the same truth , is applisable to religion. We know, it is true, ta hat we have to begin by ourselves, for it is y said: "He thatis evil to himself, to whom will d he be good f" But is it not also written: " He gave tpifirey-nsefhem oommandments con t corning his neigiborn" This admitted, and d who can gainsay it, it seems to me that our first endeavors esould be directed to the prac y tiMos defense of our holy religion; so that our children and our friends may not be led astray and beoome the prey of unscupulous wgitsrs. SThis o may tell me, is suaietlO or y 7th nn eronad ur·et books whiob we possess. In-speculation this may be truebts in practie, I donbt it. Do your children, or will they, read those books It is, to say the least, very doubtfl. And even if they should, the remedy might not prove adeuate; for the attacks that are daily belOe e agaipet as e various, and as sume such proteas forms, that a continual change of tactics is needed to oppose old cal umnies and accusations clad in the ever chang ing panoply of error. . Does not this point to the neessedt of Catholio newspapere? An antlpopery ser mon, propped up by falsifed-history, a leoourse on the reasonableness of indif. ference in matters of religion, or a discourse on the recent progrees of Itellanised Iome; is reported in our political papers, and, perhaps, favorably commented upon by their editors: What shall we Oatholice do Write a book or pamphlet in refutation f This every sensible man would pronounce absurd. Shall we allow our children, who will eossionally read such articles, to imbibe the poison without reoeiving the antidote BSuch a course would bepeak little love, and less care on our part. Then let us resort to the use we con make of a atholi - newspaper, where these foes can be combated, . and if not silenced-for prejudice frequently. blinds one to the strength of an argument-ar least made harmless and incapable of produ cing the evil they aimed at. British Justice and Humanity. We have been looking overtsome returns of all paupers forcibly removed from Great Britain.o Ireland for thi4 three years from 185e7 to 1809. The details furnish evidence of the grossest cruelty that can be well imagined. Those having the unwdlcome rduty to perform of carrying into effect the decrees of the law have in numerous in stances lamented their inability to mitigate its terms. This law of deporting paupers demonstrates that the English Parliament has hardly ever made an enactment for Ireland which was not disfigured by najus tice, either by direction or omission, and the irritating characteristic has generally been so flagrant as to be altogether inde fensible. The flagrancy of the injustice to Ireland of this Scotch and English re moval system has been most forcibly point ed out, without redress. Stolid indiffer ence to Irish complaint has characterised each successive government. Althougbh,. according to the Freeman's Journal, the subject has been frequently agitated, of ciais have been deaf to representations, except when sounded in unison with the terrors of disaffection. Persons who have been born in Ireland, and removed at any age to England or Scotland, may be forced back to an Irish workhouse, if, after a life of toil, old age ends in pauperism. The injustice of this system is manifest enougb;t r.' but it is converted into a hardship unspeak ably more cruel by the extraordinary enacet meat that English and Scotch paupers in Ireland cannot be forced back to their-re spective countries. Not that the Irish would demand power to deport to Great Britain British paupers who mnay have spent a life in Ireland; bat it is no more than right that that country asould support the poor, who within its shores have labored to maintain themselves, an-, by whose labor enterprise has been nour ished and capital increased. According to the returns above alluded to over 39(M) had to be maintained by Ireland, who had spent their vigor in British work, th~eir iotsey in British produce, and their lives on LBriteah . soil. Says the Freemsa : " It is almost incredible in these days that pauper lunatics, manacled in irons, should be exported from Great Britain to Ireland; but such outrages have been perpetrated.- The 1 Commissioners reported, in 1!70, that there were few asylums in Ireland which did net I contain lunatices born in Great Britain, the Colunies, or Continental countries. They also alleg*. that it is no uncommon cireumstance to discover in Londonderry and Cork same insane I creatures who have been ship ped 4iro the s Unite States. In presene of all his mon sa e t ito*+i."s3a5much to expect that Parliament will be called upon to remove this blot from the statute-book, and that Irish I members will speedily exert themselves to a make the demand? For our part wi shall-be h- ppy to lend our best support to such . I righteous cause." Mgr. Darbey has m ds pastora l ordalsijg service st Notre Dame for t seols of the rmaeb Siedtrs who have died d ties lat. war.