of Rome found sepulture in these recesses. The Acts of the Martyrs' relate many attempts made by the persecutors of the early Christians, to trace them in these retreats. But the entrances were 80 numerous, scattered for miles over the Campagna, and the labyrinths below so complicated, and blocked up in various places, that pursuit was generally useless. Occasionally, however, these efforts were successful, and the Catacombs became not only the burial-place of the martyrs, but also the scene of their last sufferings."

Several instances of martyrdom in the Catacombs are on record, and it is probable that terrific scenes of slaughter-the shouts of the persecutors and soldiery, mingling with the hymns, prayers and sobs of the hunted martyr throngs-were often witnessed by these solemn retreats. There is an inscription on a martyr's tomb which, with the usual brevity and simplicity of those records, refers affectingly to an incident of the kind. It is dated in the Fifth Persecution, A. D. 161.

"GENVA ENIM FLECTENS VERO DEO SA
CRIFICATVRVS AD SVPPLICIA DVCTTVRO
TEMPORA INFAVSTA QVIBVS INTER SA
CRA ET VOTA NE IN CAVERNIS QVIDEM
SALVARI POSSIMVS."

"For while on his knees, and about to sacrifice to

the true God, he was led away to execution. O sad times! in which sacred rites and prayers, even in caverns, afford no protection to us!"

spoken of, and with the familiarity and in-
difference that men feel who live on a
volcano; yet a population strong-hearted,
of quick impulses, nerved alike to suffer
or to die, and in numbers, resolution, and
physical force, sufficient to have hurled
their oppressors from the throne of the
world, had they not deemed it their duty
to kiss the rod, to love their enemies, to
bless those that cursed them, and to sub-
mit, for their Redeemer's sake, to the
'powers that be.' Here, in these 'dens
and caves of the earth,' they lived; here,
they died-a'spectacle' in their lifetime
'to men and angels,' and on their death a
triumph' to mankind-a triumph of which
the echoes still float around the walls of
Rome, and over the desolate Campagna,
while those that once thrilled the capitol
are silenced, and the walls that returned
them have long since crumbled into
dust."

66

After three hundred years of refuge, and suffering, and praying, in these dark intricacies, the sufferers triumphed. Their cause could not die. Christianity," says Bishop Kip, "emerging from these recesses, walked boldly on the soil beneath which she had so long been glad to seek concealment." The labyrinth of rude alleys had become walled with the and little graves of martyrs-men, women, children-who had counted not their lives dear unto them in comparison with fidelity Throughout the series of terrible perse- to their Lord; and now pilgrims resortcutions which, in attempting to annihilate ed to them for meditation and prayer. only sustained and kept pure the primitive Jerome records his visits with his RoChurch of Rome, these caverns are often man brethren. The dying, not now alreferred to, even in the edicts of the gov-lowed to share the honors of martyrdom ernment, and it was sometimes proposed to destroy them, as the only way to destroy the ever resuscitating sect. Lord Lindsay (Christian Art, vol. i, p. 4) says eloquently "To our classic associations, indeed, Rome was still, under Trajan and the Antonines, the city of the Cæsars, the metropolis of pagan idolatry—in the pages of her poets and historians we still linger among the triumphs of the capitol, the shows of the Coliseum-or if we read of a Christian being dragged before the tribunal, or exposed to the beasts, we think of him as one of a scattered community, few in number, spiritless in action, and politically insignificant. But all this while there was living beneath the visible, an invisible Rome-a population unheeded, unreckoned-thought of vaguely, vaguely

with the humble saints of the Catacombs, wished, nevertheless, to share their graves; and, writes our author, "Popes and prelates, kings and queens, emperors and empresses, the highest in rank and the most devout in life, or most penitent in death, were for some centuries interred in these crypts, in the neighborhood of the tombs of Roman slaves and criminals, Christian laborers and hewers of stone, and the early martyrs. Even from the remote parts of Europe, the bodies of illustrious persons were carried thither for sepulture, as, a few centuries later, princes and nobles commanded in their wills, that their bodies, or at least their hearts, should be carried to Palestine and buried in the Holy Land." Macfarlane gives the names of at least ten kings and emperors

Bishop Kip traces, somewhat irrelevantly, perhaps, to his design, yet with much interest, the history of the Catacombs during the Middle Ages. The Huns under Attila, and the Goths under Totila, the Lombards and the Saracens, successively ransacked them for treasure; and during the medieval civil wars of Italy, the nobles and their feudal slaves often met in deadly combat in these silent and hallowed passages, which gleamed with the light of torches and echoed with the war shouts, "The Colonna! the Colonna!" and, "Beware of the bear's hug!" while along the walls might be seen, through the broken slabs, the skeleton | faces of the dead-the dead who had braved the weapons of blood for Christ in life, and could not now be disturbed by their clangor in the hallowed sleep of death. Solitary pilgrims, too, in still later times, found their way to these quiet depths, with devout though sometimes superstitious hearts, to pray and to meditate. An inscription as late as 1321 is found with the following noble passage-noble in its heroic and poetic sentiment, though tinged with the ideas of the age: -"Gather together, O Christians, in these caverns, to read the holy books, to sing hymns to the honor of martyrs and the saints that here lie buried, having died in the Lord; to sing psalms for those who are now dying in the faith. There is light in

this darkness. There is music in these tombs."

That as

the French have, within a few years, produced some valuable volumes respecting them, and the French government has provided for a magnificent work, which: is to imbody all the important results of the researches of a commission which it sent to the Catacombs.

Bishop Kip's volume is, we believe, the only one yet produced by our own country on the subject; it is a faithful, though a succinct account of these interesting antiquities, giving their history, with numerous descriptive specimens, and soberlydrawn deductions. The style of his treatise is most happily congenial with the theme; it is fervid and devout, and not unfrequently eloquent-well adapted to give not only a popular interest, but a salutary popular effect to the work. In a subsequent num ber we shall present illustrated descriptions of the tombs and symbols of the Catacombs; with some of the theological deductions which they afford.

While round my path upspring the gentle flowers,
Whose leaves are wet
With sparkling pearls, scatter'd by vernal
showers.

Let me live on,
Till winter's breath has blanch'd my head with

snow;

When youth has flown

In vain I pray!
Death's icy hand is feeling for my heart:
Fading away-
The flashing visions of the earth depart.

Subsequently the Catacombs became comparatively neglected, and indeed forgotten. Their entrances were blocked up by the caving in of the tufa, and not till the researches of Bosio in the sixteenth And hope departs-O then, I'll gladly go! century were they reopened. siduous ecclesiastic devoted thirty years to exploring and recording the memorials of the labyrinth. It became his own sanctuary; and he spent so much of his time in its darkness, that it is said the "light To wander blindly through thy murky gloom: of the sun was painful to his eyes." Since his day, successive antiquarians have continued the researches, some of them devoting their lives to the task. Boldetti spent more than thirty years in studying

I come, O grave!

A guide I crave

A light, to cheer the darkness of the tomb.

Trembling I trust

That He who thro' the Vale of Death has gone,
When life is hush'd,

the tombs and crypts. The English and Will guide me onward to a brighter home.

THE REFORMED A TRUE STORY.*

of the house, as well as the business out | hardened by severe physical labor, and of doors. During "the hard winter," she rendered elastic by the confidence which was obliged to bring wood from the neigh-honesty of purpose and innocency of life boring hill, chopping it with her own hands, to warm her mother's cottage. By this course of discipline, Ann acquired a hardness of muscle, a strength of purpose, and a power of endurance which never left her through a long life.

Hard-handed labor and strict economy supplied the necessities of the little group, which continued to enlarge until it reached the goodly number of a dozen, save one. In the mean time the first of a new race of missionaries penetrated these interior and secluded regions, and Mr. and Mrs. Raymond and two daughters became subjects of a great moral change. This constituted the commencement of the religious era of this family. Mr. Raymond's humble dwelling was thenceforward a sort of Bethel, or house of God. Here the weary itinerant often found a resting place, and here was often heard the voice of prayer and praise, and here the people were often collected together to hear the word of life dispensed in great simplicity and power.

The Raymond family finally acquired a character, which, however really enviable it was, nevertheless subjected the younger members to much small persecution from their young companions. The family altar was ever kept up, and the morning and evening sacrifice was a thing of course. Puritanical strictness was enforced upon all, and no immorality suffered to pass without a fearful religious reckoning. Religious things and religious people were never made matters of jest.

Withal, religion was here invested with charms, and not made inconsistent with good cheer and innocent amusements. Mr. Raymond had a generous soul within him, and a natural mirthfulness which rendered him an exceedingly agreeable companion to the young, and made him the life of his large family circle. He was a fine singer, and performed well upon the flute; and after the evenings were spent in the cultivation of sacred music, which was always followed by prayer, they all retired to rest in a delightful state of mind, fully appreciating the bliss of true domestic union and sympathy sanctified by a vital Christianity.

Henry was one of the younger sons, and when a small lad became the subject of religious influence, and gave good promise of a life of usefulness. All the elder brothers and sisters were now members of the same Church, and great concern was felt lest the childish heart of little Harry should be turned back again to the vanities of the world. Harry was good-humored and playful, and, withal, | unsuspecting and heedless. He was not

dull nor slow to judge of the opinions which some entertained of his religious pretensions. At length the precautions and reserve which, however well meant, were doubtless premature and improper, seemed to him to indicate a want of confidence in his religious character, and seemed to chill the ardor of his feelings. Finally he lost his confidence, and began to mingle with frivolous and irreligious company.

Time wrought various changes in the Raymond family: death seized some of the most lovely of the circle, and others were settled in life and located at different points. Harry was now the oldest son who remained; and he, in the natural course of things, began to be thrown into business associations, which were by no means favorable to the pious and sober habits which characterized the family. He was what in common parlance would be called "a good fellow." He was never out of humor, never in a hurry, always ready to try his hand in a rivalry with the strongest and best who could be produced. Withal, he was a musician, and performed well upon several instruments, and was, of course, an object of interest and attention at military parades and other public gatherings.

Now it was that Harry Raymond began to fall under influences of a most deleterious character. The drinking habits of many of the circles with which he mingled, gradually wore upon his moral convictions, and upon his resolution to abstain, until he could take "a social glass" and become merry with those who were under the unholy excitement of the intoxicating bowl. The vigilant eye of true friendship looked with deep concern upon the perils to which poor Harry was now exposed, and of which he seemed not at all aware. But occasions of temptation were not frequent, and the general course of things was not materially varied for several years, and no very threatening events arrived, until he was united in marriage to Harriet Brenen, an interesting girl of fourteen.

Mr. Raymond was now becoming somewhat advanced in years, and naturally wished to give up the burdens of business. He had possessed himself of a small farm, of which his son Harry now took the charge. Young Mrs. Raymond became an inmate of the family, and soon imbibed

the religious spirit which sti prevailed among the remaining members of the family circle, which had now been extensively broken up. She found in old Mrs. Raymond a mother indeed-one who not only entered into all her sympathies, under the heavy and unexpected domestic trials which will soon be noticed, but who could give her spiritual instructions and consolation, as occasion required.

The practice of "taking a little" of the maddening draught increased upon Henry, until he occasionally became disguised, and was irregular in his return from the neighboring villages, to which he now made frequent visits under the pretexts of business. The terrible and long-expected event finally transpired. At a late hour Harry drove up and succeeded in getting into the house. His horses had been overdriven and neglected, and he was stupefied with drink and benumbed with cold. There were two individuals, who had occupied each a corner by the fire, in mute sorrow and breathless suspense, while the teapot sat upon the embers and the table was spread with what was necessary to supply the cravings of hunger. These two-the wife and the motherwere the first to give the needed help to the nearly helpless object of many hours of indescribable solicitude. When Harry had been conducted to his bed, with many | expressions of kindness and sympathy, his two guardian angels retired-not to sleep, but to have their imagination haunted, during the remaining hours of the night, by the repetition of the scene which had passed before them. That was a night of anguish, of tears, and of prayers, which can only be appreciated by the Father of mercies, who fathoms the depths of human sorrow and counts the sighs of his children.

torted promises of amendment, which were kept for a time, longer or shorter according to circumstances, but were finally broken.

The terrible, the astounding facts were brought to the knowledge of brothers and sisters abroad, and a sense of deep mortification, as well as a feeling of heartbreaking sorrow, passed through the entire family circle. Family pride was wounded, and, in some instances, some little indignation for the moment was indulged. Why is it that our lovely circle must be disgraced with one recreant member, and one who possesses so many excellent natural qualities, and for whom so much has been done by the providence of God, by religion, by friends? was often asked. But the matter finally resolved itself into a religious question, and resort was had to prayer and earnest personal appeal. All prayed to the God who has the hearts of all men in his hands for help in the great emergency, while wife, father, mother, brothers, and sisters, in turn, exhorted and warned Henry, in the most affectionate and melting strains.

About this time he received a letter from James, which concluded in this wise :-" And now, my dear Henry, I pray you to hear me willingly for a moment, in a matter which presses more heavily upon my heart, and is of more solemn interest to you than anything beside. You will anticipate the subject-it is your course of life. I trust you have not forgotten that you have a wife, parents, brothers and sisters, who naturally care for you, and feel a deep interest in what concerns your honor and happiness. Nor can you have altogether forgotten that you have a soul which will live when the world, and all within it, shall be consumed. But is your conduct consistent with anything like a The day which succeeded was a gloomy rational conviction of these facts? Are one. A few words of most significant you not breaking the hearts of the wife of rebuke from the wife and the mother, and your youth and the mother who bore you? the down-cast countenance and sad pen- Are you not mortifying and grieving all siveness of old Mr. Raymond, which al- of us to death? More, are you not hastenways expressed unutterable things, were ing to a premature and a dishonorable met by a confused expression of the coun- grave, and to an awful account after death? tenance, and a vague glancing of the eye O, my dear brother, how can we give you in different directions, but with no angry up! Have mercy upon us-have some words. It is enough-indeed too much-pity upon yourself—and break off your abmuch more than I could wish to say, that the same scene, with slight variations of circumstances, was occasionally repeated. Admonitions and tender expostulations exVOL. V.-4

surd and ruinous course-and turn about, while you may, and live. Could I take you in my arms this moment, I would bathe your brow with my tears, and would,