eye to observe the faults and deficiencies of his flock; and many who would not be led to the practice of virtue by the honeyed tones of persuasion, were at least often deterred from open vice by his pointed invectives from the pulpit. He eradicated many evil customs, and did much, both by word and example, to stimulate that spirit of sincere piety, for which those congregations are now so conspicuous.

He had lived so long in colleges, and had so long fulfilled the disagreeable office of prefect, that he had become disgusted with that kind of life, and had firmly resolved never more to engage in it; and he was not much in the habit of changing his resolutions. Yet, the ignorance of the children in his various congregations, and the consequent difficulty of teaching them their religious. duties, whilst most of them could not read, made him think seriously about establishing some institution for elementary instruction, by which this inconvenience might be remedied. The difficulties were great and appalling. But what were difficulties to him? They only quickened his zeal and nerved his resolution. He had neither money to build, nor men to conduct such an institution. But his energy supplied every difficulty. Once he had overcome his great repugnance to the undertaking, by persuading himself that it would promote the glory of God, and the good of his neighbour, all other obstacles vanished. He laid his plans before the Bishop, who had already entertained similar views, and who warmly approved them, encouraging his zeal with a solicitude truly paternal. He immediately set about his task. The first thing to be done was to procure a site for the seminary. He purchased a farm, and paid for it by subscriptions raised among those favourable to his undertaking. As there was however but little money in the country at the time, he had great difficulty in raising the necessary amount, and especially in converting into cash the articles of produce subscribed by many. The farm paid for, the next thing was to erect suitable buildings. An old stone destillery on the premises, was soon fitted up for the purpose of an Academy of learning. Mr. Byrne was himself almost constantly with the workmen, and labouring with them. bearheaded, under a scorching sun. He had made an arrangement with the parents of children, that every thing contributed by them to the institution, either in money or in work, should be refunded in tuition, which was to be at the very lowest rates. The parents were to pay nothing for board, only furnishing a certain quota of provisions per session. A plan so reasonable, and so fully adapted to the wants of the community could not fail to be successful. At length the long and anxiously expected day for the opening of the new school arrived, and it was on that day filled to overflowing. Long shall I remember the mingled sensations of awe and joy which I felt, in common with forty or fifty urchins, as on that day we entered the walls of St. Mary's Seminary-the name given to the infant establishment. It was early in the Spring of the year 1821.

Thus were laid the foundations of a school, which, with more trials and dif

ficulties than have perhaps fallen to the lot of any other institution, has subsisted with ever increasing popularity for twenty-two years, and has at length taken its stand among the first chartered Colleges of the country. It was founded by one man, amidst difficulties which would have appalled almost any other -it was sustained for more than twelve years by the indomitable energy of one man. It boasted no money endowment, but it could boast an endowment far more noble-unquenchable zeal, hallowed by religion! The Rev. Mr. Byrne was President, sole disciplinarian, sole prefect, sole treasurer, and at first almost sole professor-he filled every office. And at the same time, he was often compelled to attend missionary calls. Yet he found time for every thing. Often have we known him after all had retired to rest, to go several miles on horseback, to attend a sick call, which he could not find time to attend during the day, and after returning and taking a brief repose, to be the first one up in the morning. His quick eye immediately discovered those who possessed the greatest talent, and amidst all his other occupations, he found time to train up several of those for teachers. Thus in less than a year he had raised up a body of tutors and officers, who subsequently relieved him of much labour, and continued their studies, whilst engaged in teaching those branches which they had already learned.

The seminary had become very popular throughout Kentucky: its strict discipline, and the moral and literary advancement of its pupils were justly admired. Its founder had liquidated almost all its debts, and had nearly completed an additional building for the accommodation of more studients, when God permitted the whole to be consumed by fire! He was absent in Louisville at the time, and we remember well the sadness which sat on his brow when on the next day he rode into the enclosure, and beheld the smouldering ruins of what had cost him years of anxious toil! Yet the suddeness of the shock did not unnerve him—it gave him new energy. In a few short months St. Mary's Seminary arose from its ashes fresher and more beautiful than ever! During the months in which the new college was being erected, Mr. Byrne toiled day and night-he was not a mere looker on, but he took part in the work. While not thus employed, he was engaged in giving instructions to several of his more advanced students, whom he retained with him. In a few years he had recovered from the pecuniary embarrassment consequent upon the late accident by fire-he had also paid the debts of the new building, and had an additional edifice almost completed, when in one night, by another severe visitation of Providence, this last was consumed by fire, involving him in a debt of more than four thousand dollars! He was not discouraged by this second misfortune, and offered up the Holy Sacrifice the next morning in thanksgiving to God for having preserved the main building. While those who came to condole with him seemed sad and dejected, he treated the matter lightly, and observed, smiling, that his only cause of grief was the loss of his hat, which he had forgotten in the new building on the evening previous!

Nothing daunted, he rebuilt the burnt edifice on a more enlarged plan, and in a few years was enabled, by patient industry, and rigid economy, to pay all his debts, and to place the Institution on a firm and enduring foundation. It may here be proper to glance at the advantages which St. Mary's Seminary has bestowed upon the country, especially during the twelve years, from 1821 to 1833, that it was under the immediate superintendence of its founder. During all that time, the number of students ranged from eighty to one hundred and twenty; and taking one hundred as the average number, we ascertain that the Institution gave instruction, partial or complete, to at least 1200 youths. These were from all parts of the State and many of them, on their return to their respective neighborhoods, established private schools, which they endeavoured to assimilate to their alma mater. Thus the benefits of education were not confined to those who had been students of St. Mary's Seminary; this institution gave an impulse to knowlodge, which affected the whole State, and extended even to the adjoining States. And all this good must be attributed to the energy of one man! Those who know how difficult it is to found, and how much more difficult it is to keep up a literary institution, must be impelled by these facts to give him more credit, than is usually awarded in such cases.

We now come to an act in his life which displays his character more perhaps than any other, and which must forever endear his name to St. Mary's College, and immortalize it with posterity. He had founded St. Mary's—had clung to it amidst all its misfortunes and vicissitudes, for twelve years he had twice raised it up from its ruins-he had spent thousands on thousands of dollars upon it; the property was his own, the fruit of his own industry; and he made a free donation of it, while living, to the Society of Jesuits, believing them much better qualified to conduct it than himself, and thinking that he could be more usefully employed elsewhere? Though advanced in age, and worn out in constitution, yet he thought of renewing in his declining years, the scenes of his more vigorous manhood. He had been on a visit to Nashville, and having seen the necessity of an institution such as St. Mary's at that place, where the Catholic religion had to contend with neglect and scandals, he had resolved to make it the theatre of his future labours. In a letter to Bishop Flaget, he observed, that all he needed in leaving St. Mary's to found a new Institution, was his horse, and ten dollars, to bear his travelling expenses! Sometime before this, he had conceived a similar idea in regard to an establishment near Paducah, in Jackson's Purchase. This last enterprise he had however abandoned, probably because he had reason to believe, that his absence at that time might have been detrimental to the interests of St. Mary's: at least it was not because he deemed such an undertaking impracticable; for whoever knew him, must have learned that to him few things appeared or were impracticable. He had made up his mind in regard to his undertaking at Nashville, and he delayed it for a short time, only to aid for a season his friend, Rev. Mr. Elder, in the administration of St. Joseph's, which was then labouring under pecuniary difficulties.

But God was satisfied with his previous labours, privations, and sacrifices, and called him to Himself. He allowed him to breathe his last in the arms of the Fathers of the Society of Jesus, whom he had always respected, and with whom, at Georgetown, he had first learned to breathe the pure atmosphere of a religious life. But in the closing scene of his life God wished to give us a bright example of virtue the most heroic. He had sacrificed bodily comfort, by a long course of privations and of toils-he had sacrificed the fruit of all his labours, by one generous donation, made for the love of God-he was now to sacrifice his life, and fall a victim of divine and fraternal charity! The cholera came with all its fearful horrors: consternation seized upon the spirits of all. It was an awful storm, which bowed down even the oaks of the forest. But there was one spirit which quailed not-the Rev. William Byrne was ready to live or to die, as might be the will of God! In common with all his brethren of the ministry, he exposed himself to the danger, wherever duty called; but he had greater reasons than any of them to fear the fatal disease. He had been for many years subject to a chronical complaint, very analogous to the cholera in its symptoms, and whenever he exposed himself to rain or to cold, as he did whenever duty required, he might be seen for hours writhing in the very agonies of death-with cramps of the stomach, and spasms just like those of a cholera patient. He was well aware of all this, and he had reason to predict that if ever he should take the cholera, he would fall a victim to it, being a subject already predisposed to its attacks, without having any longer strength of constitution to struggle successfully against them. Under these circumstances, he cheerfully answered a call to visit a poor negro woman, dying with that disease. He was not bound to answer the call by any pastoral charge, but he felt himself bound, by the more general consideration of catholic charity and zeal. Before going, he was heard to say, that it would probably cause his death. He went; prepared her for death, and came home himself to die! With the disease upon him, he yet said Mass the next morningfrom the altar he went to his bed of death, aud five hours after he had terminated that hallowed sacrifice, he offered cheerfully the sacrifice of his life! One would think that he was reading of the saints or martyrs of old—but he is only reading of the closing act in the life of one who lived and moved in the midst of us, and whose life, while he was living, was not sufficiently appreciated! The minister of God may well exclaim: may the Lord, in his mercy, grant me the happiness to die a death worthy of a priest ! "May my soul die the death of the just, and may my last end be like unto their's!"

THE CHURCH AND THE UNIVERSITY IN FRANCE.

[From the Tablet.]

It will have been seen from recent notices in this journal that the relations of the Church and the University in France are becoming more and more complicated, and assuming a more menacing attitude. The position of the Church, with regard to the University, is well known to our readers. In France the University-a body endowed and founded by the State-that is, by an irreligious Government-is all but supreme over secular education. "Freedom of education," indeed, was guaranteed by the charter of 1830; but of it there is not even a shadow or a vestige in France. The whole scheme of national education is a huge monopoly in the hands of infidels and Pantheists. It is true, a recent Catholic writer, in the Dublin Review (p. 184, Sept., 1843,) kindly assures us that "from all he has been able to see about these matters"—(that is apparently, from nothing, for he obviously has seen nothing, and knows nothing on the subject)-no "really intellectual being will ever embrace" Pantheism; and that "our friends on the Continent" (meaning all the educated Catholic laity, and the universal clergy in Italy, Germany, France, Belgium, and elsewhere,) with very admirable intentions indeed, are little better than blockheads, who talk about matters they do not understand, rave about imaginary dangers, fight like Quixote against windmills, and mistake sheep for troops of armed men. No doubt this revelation-for, if true, it is nothing but a revelation-will, when it becomes generally diffused and adopted, marvellously encourage "our good friends," and do something towards allaying present dissensions about these matters in France. In the meantime, the evidence of fact, and the universal consent of all persons who know how to read (except our reviewer,) induce us to take for granted the notorious and avowed fact, that the popular philosophy of Germany and France is Pantheistic, and that to the discretion of Pantheistic philosophers the education of the rising generation in France is actually committed. The rising intelligence of France is as much ruled over by a Pantheistic philosophy as the charity of England is domineered over by a Benthamite and Malthusian logic. In England, sleek, fat-brained John Bull knows nothing about transcendental philosophy-whether Pantheistic or Catholic. In France, they know little about Bentham and Malthus. But, for all that, it is true that a man who in France should deny the existence of Pantheism would be laughed at just as in England a man would be ridiculed for denying the existence of Benthamee-Charity.

In France, then, the University governed by a board of Pantheists, and working throughout the whole kingdom by the agency of Pantheistic professors, enjoys an unwieldy monopoly over the entire field of secular education. No school can be opened throughout the length and breadth of France un-subject to the jurisdiction of Pantheism, or without a license from its authorities. All the lay scholars throughout the kingdom are (in fact) bound to go through the course of studies followed in its colleges, inasmuch as no one can be ad