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XII. Pamphlets by Father Anderdon, S.J., and others.

We can only give a word to each of several publications lying before us. "A Lion in the Path" (Burns & Oates), if the price be a penny, is an excellent pennyworth. It is a picturesque and practical exhortation against two opposite spiritual dangers, which are illustrated in a manner that makes one think of Spurgeon-minus cant and heresy. The same indefatigable pen gives us "Questions and Answers " (Burns & Oates), a cheap little controversial tract, which in another form has done good among inquiring Protestants in England. The Franciscan Fathers at Stratford, London, have published a translation of Father de Bussieres' little treatise on the "Presence of God" (Burns & Oates); and the same publishers send us Bishop Ullathorne's "Discourse on Church Music," spoken in St. Chad's Cathedral on the half jubilee of its choir. "The Church of the New Testament" (Burns & Oates) summarises in twenty pages the scripture-proof of the divinity of the Catholic Church; but it is hardly worthy to be No. 1 of a series, with the invidiously suggestive title of "Tracts for these Times."

Among the more important of the books which will be noticed in our March number, are the new volume of the Public Life of our Lord, by Father Coleridge S.J., which is entitled the "Training of the Apostles;" an excellent volume of "Five Minute Sermons," by the New York Paulist Fathers, of which Messrs. M. H. Gill & Son are the Irish agents; and a charming set of poems, by an American Catholic, Maurice Egan.

TO THE FOUNDER OF THE SOCIETY OF JESUS.

BY THE AUTHOR OF EMMANUEL."

O many a tribute of homage and love

To patrons and friends 'mid the blessed above,
And none to my Father! Forgive me, great Saint,

That never-for words are so feeble and faint-
No, never before have I striven to tell

What you and the God of my heart know full well:
The filial devotion which burns in this breast

For founder and father the wisest and best.

Dear Father Ignatius, I wish I could feel
That fervour of faith and that ardour of zeal
You felt in worst, unregenerate days.

I almost am tempted to envy and praise

What seems to be laid to your charge as a sin:
The doubt which, your rough soldier-days, you were in

If chivalry did not compel you to smite

The Moor who once dared in your presence to slight
The virginal honour of Mary our Queen-

That blow no ungenerous crime would have been.

Brave soldier of Spain, braver soldier of God!
How hard and how rugged the pathway you trod.
Manresa seems easy compared with the school
Where you in ripe manhood became like a fool,
Rehearsing your grammar with children once more.
Your voyage to Palestine's mystical shore
Was less than the journey to class day by day-
But that, St. Ignatius, was always your way:
To use the means fittest for gaining your end,
While begging of God special succour to lend—
To shrink from no labour or danger or care,
To work as if nothing depended on prayer,
And then, as if all with God's clemency lay,
Most earnestly, constantly, humbly to pray.*

How grand must your nature have been, and your heart, So deep and enduring a stamp to impart

To Xavier and hundreds of heroes since then.

You truly are one of the leaders of men;

You lead them to God. Oh! the dupe and the knave

Who at you and your
children carp, snarl, and rave,
They know you not, Father Ignatius! but I

Know well you and yours, and full gladly would die
Your honour and theirs to attest. Cruel shame,
That not the bad only should slander and blame

The Company banded by Captain so great!
Let Heresy give them the praise of its hate;
Let sensual, proud unbelievers detest-

The demons of hell know their enemies best-
But ye who love Jesus, rejoicing applaud
All, all who are striving to win unto God
The souls Jesus died for.

When earth's war is done,
Ignatius, what captive hosts you shall have won!
Great Xavier's magnificent soul your first spoil.
And so all the marvellous fruits of his toil;
And all who your flag to the end shall uphold-
Canisius, Alphonsus, the laybrother old;

* These three lines are one of St. Ignatius's maxims versified.

The three youthful saints to the youthful so dear;*
De Britto and Suarez, unlike in their sphere;
Francis Regis at home drawing thousands to God,
And Claver, apostle of negroes abroad;

De Lugo and Bellarmine, who teachers teach,
With Segneri, Bourdaloue, mighty in speech;
And Southwell, true poet, true martyr; St. Jure,
Rodriguez, ascetics large-minded and sure;
With all who your wise, gentle spirit and rule
Have followed in pulpit, confessional, school;
And all who have striven to sanctify men

By prayer and example, the voice and the pen;
And all who have laboured and labour unknown
And thus shall toil on till the last trump has blown :
In all that each one of your children endures,

A share shall for ever, Ignatius, be yours.

Ignatius, a saint ere your earliest vow,

A hero, an angel-what must you be now?

How vile seemed the earth when you looked up to heaven!†
To God and his glory your grand soul was given;
God's glory alone was your joy and your pride,
"For God's greater glory" you lived and you died.

O great St. Ignatius, look down from your throne
And do not the least of your children disown;
Pray, pray for us unto the Father of all,

Through whom and in whom you our father we call.
And we may we each, in our place and our day,
Work for God while obedience guides safely our way;
May each to each duty, how humble soe'er,
Give soul and sense wholly, with faith and with
May each, to your war-cry‡ unflinchingly true,
Live and die as the son of such father should do ;
And be it to all-yes, to all of us—given

To meet as your children, Ignatius, in heaven.

prayer;

St. Stanislaus Kostka, St. Aloysius Gonzaga, and Blessed John Berchmans. + Quam sordet terra dum cœlum aspicio.

‡ Ad majorem Dei gloriam !

WINGED WORDS.

1. I should never have made my success in life, if I had not besto wed upon the least thing I have ever undertaken the same attention and care that I have bestowed upon the greatest. [Compare this— from a letter of Charles Dickens to his son Henry-with the following.]

2. No one will succeed in great things unless he first succeed in small things.-St. Francis Xavier.

3. The Irish Catholic has suffered so long for his religion, that it is in the granules of his blood. James Anthony Froude (a sufficiently impartial witness).

4. It is only when we are not able to commit any more folly that we recognise what fools we were.-Miss Attie O'Brien's "From Dark to Dawn."

5. Resignation only changes the character of our suffering, it does not remove it; it sanctifies sorrow, but it does not lessen our sense of loss.-The same.

6. A tender conscience is like a tender eye which the least mote disturbs and annoys, making it water to wash off the stain, and express regret that ever it came there.-Old Life of St. Thomas of Hereford. 7. Pretences are necessary and agreeable very often, and there is no greater sham than your English sham honesty.-Mrs. Bishop's "Elizabeth Eden."

8. Eyes not trained in honourable habits are almost uncontrollably inquisitive. The same.

9. Things gained are gone, but great things done endure." Atalanta in Calydon."

10. Gratitude is a heavy burden to bear. If you do a man a good turn, he generally finds it too irksome to be grateful, and so becomes your enemy." The Golden Butterfly."

11. The exasperating thing about revenge is that it never satisfies, but leaves you at the end as angry as at the beginning. After all, one might just as well forgive a fellow at once.—The same.

12. A Greek poet implies that the height of bliss is the sudden relief of pain. But there is a nobler bliss still: the rapture of the conscience at the sudden release from a guilty thought.-Bulwer.

13. Nothing looks so like guilt as frightened innocence.-Kathleen O'Meara.

14. It is not what we earn, but what we save, that makes us rich. It is not what we eat but what we digest, that makes us strong. It is not what we read, but what we remember, that makes us learned. It is not what we intend, but what we do, that makes us useful. It is not a few faint wishes, but a life-long struggle, that makes us valiant.-Anon.

THE WILD BIRDS OF KILLEEVY.

A TALE.

BY ROSA MULHOLLAND,

AUTHOR OF "HESTER'S HISTORY," "THE WICKED WOODS OF TOBEREEVIL," ETC.

BooK SECOND.

CHAPTER X.

FAN'S PROPOSAL.

WHILE Herr Harfenspieler lectured the signora over her painting, Fan and Captain Rupert continued their walk homeward through the woods.

"The signora is terrible when she makes up her mind," Fan had said, laughing, and Rupert answered:

"That is why you are afraid to say all you think before her. You half promised to tell me more about yourself, if she were not by." "I should be glad to talk to anyone about my old friends and my long ago," said Fan. "Nobody here, but you, would listen

to me."

"Let me listen to you, then. I am longing to hear."

Then Fan began her little history, and told him all she remembered about her childhood. Her simple recital fell on the ear of the man of the world less like the details of a real experience than like a tender idyl, the creation of a poet's fancy; and he became more in love with the speaker than ever.

"Thank you for your beautiful confidence," he said, with a tremor in his voice and an unusual mist in his eyes.

""Tis I who must thank you. It has done me good to be allowed to speak."

From the review of her past Captain Rupert passed quickly to the consideration of her future. "Do you intend to obey my uncle and go upon the stage?" he asked, anxiously.

"I cannot but obey, he is so good to me. Besides, I have a reason of my own."

"For becoming a public singer ?"

"Yes."

"You desire the excitement, the freedom?" said Captain Wilderspin, regretfully. "Or you are willing to make a fortune?"

"None of these motives are anything like mine, though it is true I have a wish to be independent. But I will tell you what I hope. VOL. VIII., No. 81, March, 1880.

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