ceive, the new conference was destined to something better than to make fine flourishing speeches upon benevolence, or discuss such ameliorations as might be introduced among the labouring classes.

The immediate object of the fraternity, in adopting the protection of St. Vincent de Paule, was to bring down from heaven a few rays of the celestial charity which warmed the breast of the great servant of God. The first meetings took place in May 1833, and only eight members were enlisted. This they considered rather as an advantage, because it highly contributed from the very first to establish habits of cordiality and sincere friendship which have been kept up to the present day.

It may be easily supposed that eight students of law or medicine were far richer in purity of intention than in cash: and, indeed, the rising fabric might have fallen to the ground, had not unforeseen circumstances helped to support it. The editors of a periodical paper first kindly offered their rooms for the meetings. Some of the members belonging to the conference occasionally contributed to this same publication, and they devoted the remunerations of their articles to increase the puny treasury of the poor.

I dwell with pleasure upon such details, for generally the workings of God are feeble in their beginning, and besides we are thus taught to exert our own energies. Two months after its foundation, the fraternity had recruited seven new members, and in the course of the following winter they continued to swarm in, especially those coming from Lyons, a church distinguished above all others in France by its pristine fervour and purity.

In 1834, the conference was already so numerous as to undertake another charitable office besides that of visiting the poor. In the neighborhood of the Pantheon stood, at that period, a prison destined to receive young culprits, who might be lost past remedy if allowed to mix with their seniors in crime and degeneracy. Several members engaged to visit these poor forlorn beings, to rekindle in their degraded souls one spark of repentance, and perhaps, with God's blessing, make it blaze up into a cheering fire. By far the great majority of these unfortunate youths laboured under the most melancholy ignorance of divine truths: others were Atheists at fourteen, would-be Voltaires, aping his lazzis, quoting his indecent lies, yea, at the very bottom of the scale in point of morality. Notwithstanding such an ungrateful task, the members went on for two long years, constantly attending the prisoners every Sunday for a few hours, and happy at last to hope that their efforts were not totally lost upon the objects of their compassion. As the tenants of the prison were ultimately removed to another residence, it became impossible to continue the undertaking.

In 1835, the Society reckoned about one hundred members, and a separation was felt necessary. "It was not without long and painful deliberations," says this year's report, "not without heartfelt grief, that we determined upon this measure. Endearing connexions lately formed, and then the delightful habit of consulting together upon an enterprise founded by all together: such were the motives which made us afraid of breaking asunder the grand mobile of our strength and utility, if such there be, viz., Christian charity." However, the decision urged its cogency more and more, and two Conferences were established in the parish of St. Etienne du Mont, and in St. Sulpice. Before the end of the year, two other scions were cut off from the mother branch, and spread the sodality in other parts of Paris. In December 1835, the members undertook likewise to protect a certain number of orphans, with more zeal than prudence: yet Providence blessed them in their numerous difficulties.

In the midst of this unexpected success and extension of the Society, one

great danger there was, which threatened the very existence, if not sedulously guarded against. I mean, want of unity. In order to maintain this indispensable condition, the several conferences agreed to meet, from time to time, and to adhere strictly to a certain number of short and easy regulations. The first of these general assemblies was held on the 21st of February, 1836; the four presidents of each section made a report on their respective undertakings, and the chairman of the whole fraternity read the observations preliminary to the regulations. These regulations, it ought to be remembered, were no fine speculation laid down before-hand, no far-fetched theory; its real merit consisted in its having been put in practice before any one thought of writing it down: in fact, the chairman only required the verbal sanction of people who already enforced its contents by their previous conduct. In regard to the preliminary observations themselves, we think proper to add, that they are neither more nor less than borrowed textually from Vincent de Paule's own writings; they bear particularly upon charity, upon the best mode of practising that virtue, upon the spiritual almsgiving which ought always to accompany the other; and lastly, upon the spirit of meekness and humility that must guide the members of all charitable associations, as well as the respect due to clerical superiors. Their latter duty has, indeed, been most scrupulously fulfilled. "Our venerable pastors," says the Report, "have condescended to grace our little undertaking with their protection, ever and anon encouraging our weakness, showering blessings on our modest co-operation in that great apostolic mission of charity, where they show themselves our models and our masters."-[Tablet Correspondence.

ON DIVINE PROVIDENCE.

As a fond mother o'er her children bends

In melting love, and clasps one to her breast,-
One at her feet, one on her knee she tends,
Whilst to another's brow her lips are press'd;
And 'mid their sports and murmurs still attends
To every varied fanciful request,—

Whispers to one-to one a glance she sends,
And smiles or chides, in all her love confess'd;
So watches over us the sovereign power

Of Providence; this comforts, that supplies,
Hears all, and doth on all His mercy shower.
And if some grace or favor He denies,
'Tis but to teach the soul her prayers to pour,
Or by denial graciously replies.

FILACAJA.

SICILY-SHRINE OF THE VIRGIN.

BY JOHN KENYON.

"The Catholic, who hears that vesper bell,
Howe'er employed, must send a prayer to heaven.
In foreign lands I liked the custom well,

For with the calm and sober thoughts of even
It well accords: and wert thou journeying there,

It would not hurt thee, George, to join that vesper prayer."
[SOUTHEY'S ST. GUALBERT.

Who knows not, fair Sicilian land!

How proudly thou wert famed of yore, When all the Muses hymn'd thy strand, And, pleased to deck so sweet a shore, Bacchus and Ceres, hand in hand,

To thee their choicest treasures bore, And saw uprise their graceful shrines, 'Mid waving corn and curling vines.

Yes! land thou wert of fruits and flowers,
The favor'd land of Deity;

By Jove made glad with suns and showers,
By Neptune cheered with brightest sea;
E'en Dis, beneath his gloomy bowers,

Had heard and loved to dream of thee-
And when he will'd to take a bride,
Snatch'd her from Etna's sloping side.

Those hollow creeds have pass'd away;
Those false, yet graceful, shrines are gone;
A purer faith, of stricter sway,

For our behoof, their place hath won;
And Christian altars overlay

Yon temple's old foundation stone; And in Minerva's vacant cell* Sublimest Wisdom deigns to dwell.

And where, within some deep shy wood,
And seen but half through curving bough,
In silent marble Dian stood.

Behold! a holier virgin-now-
Hath sanctified the solitude,

And thou, meek Mary!-Mother-thou
Dost hallow each old Pagan spot,
Or storied stream, or fabled grot.

The devious pilgrim, far beguiled,

How gladly doth he turn to greet
Thy long-sought image mid the wild-
A calming thought-a vision sweet!
If grief be his, then, Lady mild!

Thy gentle aid he will entreat,
And bow'd in heart, not less than deed,
Findeth a prayer to fit the need.

There, while his secret soul he bares,
That lonely altar bending by,

The present cathedral of Syracuse was formerly a temple of Minerva.

In the cathedral of Syracuse is a statue of the Virgin in silver.

The traveller, passing unawares,

Will stay his step-but not too nigh,—
And hearkening to those unforc'd prayers,-
Albeit the creed he may deny-
Shall own his reason less averse,
And spirit-surely-not the worse.

Thy shrines are lovely-wheresoe’er—
And yet, if it were mine to choose
One-loveliest-where fretted Care
Might come to rest-or Thought-to muse;
'Twould be that one, so soft and fair,
That standeth by old Syracuse,
Just where those salt sea waters take
The likeness of an inland lake.

Green-tendrilled plants in many a ring
Creep round the gray stone tenderly,
As tho' in very love to cling

And clasp it, while the reverent sea
A fond uplooking wave doth bring,

To break, anon, submissively.
As if it came that brow to greet,
Then whisper praise beneath thy feet.

When suns, that sink in twilight clear,
Forth from the city tempt to roam,
Be mine to meet mild evening here,
And muse on friends I've left at home.
But she who loves the mariner,

Shall yet more duly hither come,
Where, fitly, thou art held to be
Our Guardian-Lady of the Sea.

PART II.

She cometh to the seaward shrine,
A mother, with her children three;
And they have made the holy sign,
And they have dropped on bended knee;
Three in the lowly rite combine,

And one is cradled peaceably.
That mother's heart hath business here,
For she DOTH love the mariner.

Her gallant boy is on the deep,

-She loves him more than he is brave-
Yet when around Peloro's steep

The midnight surges leap and rave,
What marvel if a mother weep,

And, thinking on the tropic wave,
Doth flee to thee, Oh mother mild,
Thou Mother of the blessed Child!

As for irreverence in the general, who will deny that it is so widely diffused and so deeply ingrained, as to be now, in the eyes of the whole civilized world, a prominent characteristic of the English nation? We seem to hold nothing sacred: neither place, nor time, nor person, nor word, nor thing.— Any superstition, so as it have the least imaginable ground in reason or antiquity-if it have so much as one sacred book, or the slightest system,—is able to make head against us as having no apparent religion whatever. To certain nations we seem only as the soul-less genii of the earthly elements and powers;-masters of war, of mechanics, of policy, of every art of worldly greatness, but utterly unparticipate in the caste and element of heaven. But we need not go beyond our native soil for the sad proof of a universal irreverence. All but the whole population of our towns at least despise all, or a great part, of the sacred truths they were taught to hold precious in their childhood. The Bible is laid aside, or perverted, or profaned. As much of it is remembered as will serve to excuse a secure and indolent presuming on the long suffering of God, a false reliance on His grace, an indifference to outward and regular acts of religion; or as will occasionally help people to express themselves on some ordinary topic; or as will supply the demagogue with some familiar illustration to set forth his own wicked argument; or as

will give point to some profane jest or imprecation. Any one conversant with the language of the Chartists may see the sad fruit of much of our boasted scriptural education. As far as pretended scriptural foundation is concerned, there is nothing so preposterous in their setting up, as they have done in many large towns, as a religious sect. Their system, their speaking, their principles and their expectations, are all patched and bedizened with numberlessand they not the least solemn-fragments from the sacred text. Nay, we speak not only of Chartists-they do but follow their betters. One can hardly read the report of a liberal meeting on any political or mercantile question, without seeing Scripture forced in at every turn where one would least expect it. A text rounds a period, a text gives sting to censure, a text props up some plan of injustice, a text pulls down some social rank or breaks through some wise distinction, a text puffs up the self-conceited or terrifies the humble. The whole liberal press also exhibits the same contagion of irreverence.It spreads from the able and ingenious metropolitan journal, down to the lowest provincial scribbler. Everywhere, in review and newspaper, one may see theological terms employed to express political things, and persons, and changes. The parables are perverted to illustrate revolutionary dogmas.Familiar forms of expression are stolen from the Scripture to give a semblance of mother-English to the style of the sophist and the system-monger. The most destructive and wordly principles are clothed in metaphor, quaint idiom, and obsolete words pilfered from the same sacred treasury. Mere political abstractions are pompously put forth in the dress of heavenly and spiritual things. The prophetic anticipations of the people of God are deprived of their own proper grandeur, to invest with an empty dignity the disordered cravings of discontent, and the selfish projects of restless ambition. The mysterious terms which express the awful realities of the Incarnation, are transferred to the base organizations of faction, and the capricious revolutions of popular will. Agitators are honored with the style and title of apostles, evangelists, and prophets, unless they strike higher at more than human honours. Impracticable theories of equality, and greedy schemes of lust and licence, are exalted into gospels of salvation. Means and channels of agitation and corruption are spoken of as having a sacramental efficacy. We are daily told of the regeneration of the world by sottish Epicureans and visionary Socialists. Dreams of blood-thirsty revenge for fancied violations of abstract rights are compared with the awful vengeance inflicted by the mandate of the Omnipotent upon long accumulating crime, and with the righteous retributions on the oppressors of God's favoured people. The day of judgment itself is parodied.

An audacious materialism infests the land, driving ancient piety from its most secret haunts, setting men at liberty from instinctive scruples, and disengaging them from heavenly aspirations. But its own baseness and hatefulness would soon be its ruin. Every thing that sickened men of earth and carried hope beyond the grave,-every loving and gentle and noble affection would tell against materialism, till it returned whence it came. So it sustains its hold by an alliance with some corrupted powers of religion, that have, as it were, played the traitor to their cause. By their aid it is enabled to set up as a religion itself, as an earthly or rather hellish Christianity-Anti-christ. It denies all spiritual beings and things and operations-the whole preternatural world-and sets up nature in the place thereof. Unless we have no knowledge or discernment, the most zealous and the mightiest teachers of this spurious system, are those who unite religious knowledge with the spirit of the world. Men of talent and boldness, brought up in the very heat of religious profession and talk and agitation, carly filled with letter and doctrine, but meanwhile undisci