publication would have much to fear from the ordinary disadvantages of Catholic apologists, so strongly pointed out by Manzoni in these words: "The apologists of the Catholic religion are treated with singular injustice-a favourable ear is always lent to whatever is said against them; but when they endeavour to reply, they are told that their cause is not interesting enough, the world has something else to think about, and the time for theological controversy is gone by. Our cause is not interesting!--but we have a proof of the contrary, in the eagerness with which objections have always been received against it. It is not interesting!-when, in all the questions that concern a man most deeply, it presents itself so naturally, that it is easier to reject than to forget it. It is not interesting!—yet there is no age that does not furnish monuments of a profound veneration, a prodigious love, and of an ardent and unwearied hatred in regard of it. It is not interesting! - when the void that its removal would leave in the world is so horrible and immense, that the greater number of those who will not receive it for themselves, say it it is a good thing for the people—that is, for nine-tenths of the human race. Our cause is not interesting! and yet it remains to be decided whether millions of men should abandon the morality they profess, or study it more, and observe it more faithfully." THE EUCHARIST. [FROM SCHLEGEL'S PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY.] THE Jewish covenant and the old revelation of the Hebrews formed the chief corner-stone on which Christianity was founded; and the first apostles of the new religion were all chosen from among the people. The Scriptures of the new covenant were composed in the Greek tongue, and the first apologies, and other expositions of faiths or books of instruction by the primitive fathers, were mostly written in the same language. We may therefore consider this language as forming the second foundation stone of the Christian edifice. Though the political consequences of the Macedonian conquest in Asia were not of any permanence, yet the influence which those conquests have exerted on the intellectual characters of nations, the ascendancy which they gave to the Greeks over the whole civilized world of that period, were by no means unimportant. It was by means of these conquests that the philosophy and literature of the Greeks became, along with their language, predominant in Egypt and the western countries of Asia; and hence this language was adopted as the original tongue of Christianity, because no other at that period attained such intellectual refinement or such general diffusion. As in human society every class and condition of life, nay, every individual, by the peculiar rights and advantages which each exclusively enjoys, still serves the community, and contributes to the weal of others, unconsciously and without precisely wishing it; so in the history of the world, and in the progress of nations, all things are closely interlinked, and one serves as the instrument, auxiliary, or bond of union to the other; and it was not one of the least important results of the Greek science, and language, that the two points wherein that nation had risen to the greatest eminence, and was endowed with the greatest power, should both have been so nearly allied with the cause of Christianity, even from its origin. The Roman empire was the third foundation stone of the Christian religion; for its vast extent facilitated in a singular manner the early and very rapid dif fusion of Christianity, and formed indeed the groundwork on which the fabric of the new church was first constructed. In the history of the primitive church, historians are wont to separate the different branches of their subject, which form so many different parts of a single whole, and thus to describe separately the dogmas and doctrines of the church, its holy rites, and sacraments, its liturgies and festivals, and next its moral condition and external relations; and this division of the subject may, no doubt, very well answer the special design of such ecclesiastical histories. But if we wish to take a more general view of the subject, to seize the spirit of Christianity, and form a just, true and lively conception of the primitive church, we must be particularly careful not to forget, in the investigation of those several heads, that they formed one undivided and living whole in the eyes of the first Christians, amid the overflowing fullness of a new moral life; and of this spirit of unity, as well as the wonderful energy of faith and love which was its never-failing source, it is almost impossible for us to form a full and adequate notion. Christianity, in its primitive influence, was like an electric stroke, which traversed the whole world with the rapidity of lightning-like a magnetic fluid of life, which united even the most distant members of humanity in one animating pulsation. Public prayer and the sacred mysteries formed a stronger and closer bond of love among men, than the still sacred ties of kindred and earthly affection. Some persons have affected to compare the secret assemblies of the primitive Christians with the pagan mysteries; and undoubtedly it was only in secret, and in the retired and obscure oratory, that the first followers of Christ could gather together amid the fury of general persecution. But, from a competent knowledge which we possess of the import of these pagan mysteries, they had about as much resemblance to the religious assemblies of the primitive Christians, as the divine sacrifice of holy commemoration and the chalice, consecrated with the blood of the eternal Covenant, bore to the human sacrifices of the Cainites. The Christians saw and felt the presence of their invisible King and eternal Lord; and when their souls overflowed with the plentitude of spiritual and heavenly life, how could they value earthly existence, and how must they not have been willing to sacrifice in the struggle against the powers of darkness? for that struggle formed the whole and proper business of their lives! Hence we can understand the reason of the otherwise incredibly rapid diffusion of Christianity throughout all the provinces, and even sometimes beyond the limits of the vast empire of Rome. Like a heavenly flame, it ran through all life, kindling, where it found congenial sympathy, all that it touched into a kindred fervour. Hence, along with that mighty spirit of love which produced so rapid a spread of the Christian religion, and which united in the closest bonds the first Christian communities, that energy of faith which inspired such heroic fortitude under the dreadful and oft-renewed persecutions of the Romans. MISSISSIPPI MOSQUITOES. Extract from a letter of Pere Du POISSON, S. J., written describing his journey from New Orleans to Arkansas river, in the beginning of the last century. [See LETTRES EDIFIANTES ET CURIEUSES, TOM. IV.] are the BUT the greatest torment- compared with which all other sufferings appear tolerable-what will seem to be incredible, and what is certainly inconceivable, except by those whom experience has rendered easy of beliefmosquitoes and their merciless treatment of Mississippi voyageurs. No, I cannot bring myself to think, that any, or all of the Egyptian plagues exceeded this inhospitable infliction on human patience. There are many varieties of winged insects in this part of the world, and among them is a very small one, whose sting produces a scorching sensation, such as if a spark had fallen on the spot. There are others scarcely large enough to be seen, but which are very keenly felt, and which pay almost exclusive attention to the traveller's eyes. An enumeration, however, of the different species of these tormentors, would be as tedious as it is certainly unnecessary; for all may be said in one word, that all kind of flies are here in abundance. But all the rest appear unworthy of special mention when compared with the mosquito. I am conscientiously convinced that this little, but by no means insignificant, insect, hast caused the French, since they came here, to curse more vehemently than they or all other people ever did before. On setting out in the morning, you are sure to be accompanied by a troop of these pitiless insects; and the places of such as may happen to drop off on the way, either from a feeling of satiety, or in view of more tempting prospects, are sure to be amply supplied from the countless myriads that line the thickly wooded shores which the traveller is constantly obliged to approach in ascending this mighty stream. Does he endeavour to defend himself from their venomous attacks, or to procure a temporary respite to his sufferings, by the constant waving of his handkerchief, his persecutors are not in the least discomfitted, but seem to derive from such momentary interruption of their enjoyment, additional courage for a fresh attack his arm tires of this monotonous action, but not so his indefatigable formentors. When the time for dinner approaches, he is obliged to land, for the purpose of preparing the repast, and all the sufferings of the journey are now increased tenfold. To protect himself against this intolerable annoyance, he kindles a large fire, on which he heaps green leaves, and seeks for an asylum in the dense smoke thus caused, as the mosquito is chased away by smoke. But it is not easy to say which is the greater inconvenience, the evil or its remedy. After dinner, the traveller probably attempts to take a little rest under the spreading foliage of some hospitable tree; but the attempt is unsuccessfulthe struggle with the musquitoes is here to be renewed, and he rises with the settled conviction that his misery admits not of alleviation. When he stops for the night, he has to renew all the preparations and precautions which accompanied the mid-day repast, with the additional anxiety of preparing his couch, and suspending over it and around it what is called a baire (mosquito bar,) the object of which is to keep his tormentors at a respectable distance from him during the few hours of sleep. At the approach of and during the night, the mosquitoes thicken about him in countless myriads, being more effectually and permanently attracted by the light of the fire he has kindled, than they are partially repelled by the smoke with which he endeavours to encompass it. All the endurances of the day are little when compared with those he has now to suffer. The night may, indeed, be called the mosquitoes' harvest; and to do them justice, they do not let it pass by without profiting by it. Then it is that they literally prey upon their victim-they penetrate his mouth, his nostrils, and his eyes; his face, hands, and entire body are covered with them. His clothes do not protect him; their sting leaves its red mark on the skin beneath, unless it has become insensible to such attacks by the sad privilege of long endurance. Chicagou, an Indian chief, who had been to Paris, endeavoured to give his nation some idea of the multitudinous inhabitants of that "great village," by saying that they were as numerous as leaves on the trees, or mosquitoes in the woods! After a hasty supper, the exhausted traveller hastens to hide himself under the mosquito-bar, which he has so cunningly provided for the purpose; although he is well aware that he will have to suffer almost suffocation from excessive heat. This, however, is not his only misery; for, slyly as he may endeavour to steal unperceived under this shelter, he is almost certain to discover that at least a few of his vigilant persecutors have been as cunning as himself, and have slipt in with him; and he knows too well that a single mosquito is enough to destroy all his fond hopes of undisturbed repose. FOUNDATION OF THE JESUITS. On the dawn of the day, on which, in the year 1534, the Church of Rome celebrated the feast of the assumption of our Blessed Lady, a little company of men, whose vestments bespoke their religious character, emerged in solemn procession from the deep shadows cast by the towers of Notre Dame over the silent city below them. In a silence not less profound, except when broken by the chaunt of the matins appropriate to that sacred season, they climbed the Hill of Martyrs, and descended into the Crypt, which then ascertained the spot where the Apostle of France had won the crown of martyrdom. With a stately, though halting gait, as one accustomed to military command, marched at their head a man of swarthy complexion, bald-headed, and of middle stature, who had passed the meridian of life; his deep set eyes glowing as with a perennial fire, from beneath brows which, had phrenology then been born, she might have portrayed in her loftiest style, but which, without her aid, announced a commission from on high to subjugate and to rule mankind. So majestic, indeed, was the aspect of Ignatius Loyola, that during the sixteenth century, few if any of the books of his order appeared without the impress of that imperial countenance. Beside him in the chapel of St. Denis, knelt another worshipper, whose manly bearing, buoyant step, clear blue eye, and finely chiseled features, contrasted strangely with the solemnities in which he was engaged. Then in early manhood, Francis Xavier united in his person the dignity befitting his birth as a grandee of Spain, and the grace which should adorn a page of the Queen of Castile and Arragon. Not less incongruous with the scene in which they bore their parts, were the slight forms of the boy, Alphonso Salmeron, and of his bosom friend, Jago Laynez, the destined successor of Ignatius in his spiritual dynasty. With them, Nicholas Alphonso Bobadilla and Simon Rodriguez-the first a teacher, the second a student of philosophy prostrated themselves before the altar, where ministered Peter Faber, once a shepherd in the mountains of Savoy, but now a priest in holy orders. By his hands was distributed to his associates the seeming bread, over which he had uttered words of more than miraculous efficacy; and then were lifted up their united voices, uttering, in low but distinct articulation, an oath, at the deep significance of which the nation might have trembled or rejoiced. Never did human lips pronounce a vow more religiously observed or pregnant with results more momentous. [Edinburgh Review. KING'S BRIDGE. BY F. W. FABER. The dew falls fast, and the night is dark, From bridge to bridge with tremulous fall And it washeth the base of a pleasant hall Old trees by night are like men in thought, They stand so still and they look so wise, Oh! the night is dark; but not so dark As my poor soul in this lonely park: From bridge to bridge with tremulous fall As it washeth the base of a pleasant hall Oh, Mary! Mary! could I but hear What this river saith in night's still ear, And catch the faint whispering voice it brings It might tell of the spot where the greybeard's spade The river is green, and runneth slow We cannot tell what it saith: It keepeth its secrets down below, For death was born in thy blood with life- As it washeth the base of a pleasant hall We cannot tell what it saith: -- |