Thérèse did not volunteer again to read the contested book. She went back to the window and resumed her knitting.

Monsieur Vauban came earlier than usual next day, when she was preparing her patient's breakfast. M. de Bois-Ferré was in the habit of ordering in his meals from a neighboring café, when he took them at home, which, indeed, seldom occurred; but the doctor disapproved of this arrangement now, the dishes of the professed cook being too highly seasoned for a feverish patient; he must have nothing but the most nourishing and the simplest foodstrong beef-soup, broiled meat, and plain boiled vegetables. Sœur Thérèse volunteered to prepare all this, and with Clement for marmiton, she managed to combine satisfactorily the duties of cook and nurse. She undertook it so simply and spontaneously that it never occurred to the count to be surprised, or to consider whether it was too much for her, or work that she was not accustomed to. If Madame de Genvriac had offered to go into the kitchen to superintend the concoction of a tisane, he would have been immensely surprised and amused at the incongruity of the thing. But then Madame de Genvriac was a fine lady. It was against all the laws of nature that she should set her bronze or satin foot on the tiled floor of a kitchen.

"What! Did I give you permission to read?” cried the doctor, who found M. de Bois-Ferré engrossed in the Figaro when he entered; "I said you might be read aloud to so long as it did not fatigue you! I can't yet allow you to read yourself; it is a strain on you holding the paper; why do you not let Sœur Thérèse read to you?"

"She does not approve of the Figaro," said the young man, "and there is a very amusing Feuilleton' in it that I want to see the end of."

66 Pshaw! Nonsense! She will read it. She is much too sensible to refuse. I cannot have you strain your neck trying to read; it fatigues the spine."

Sœur Thérèse came in, and the usual morning services were performed by herself and the doctor. The wounds showed still the same unfavorable symptoms. Things were not worse, but decidedly no better.

"He makes no progress, doctor?" she said, when they were out of hearing.

"No; still, on the whole, I am more hopeful about

him; he ought to be a great deal worse by this time, unless he is to recover. There is less fever. You must heep him amused; read aloud to him anything he fancies. He said, half in a joke, that you would not read the Figaro for him; that is nonsense; he must be kept amused at any price. You are not so foolish, ma sœur, as to refuse to do anything that is necessary for your patient?"

Is it necessary for him to read bad books?" said Sœur Thérèse. "I will read till I am hoarse if he will listen to

good ones."

Tut, tut! what squeamishness is this!" exclaimed the medical man, confronting her, with an expression of surprise and irritation. "I never knew you to shirk your duty before, ma sœur. I order you to read aloud any book that can divert your patient's mind, and keep him from dwelling on his wounds and other painful subjects. I may as well tell you now that he is in very great trouble. He does not yet know it himself; I have had a great deal to do to keep it from him, to prevent its getting into the Figaro precisely, and to keep people away. That mare that he prized so much is dead; she was shot at once, as Madame de Genvriac foolishly told him; the other story was got up to undo the mischief."

"After all, doctor, a horse can be replaced?" said Sœur Thérèse, but slightly moved by the startling information.

"The loss of this one just at this moment is nothing short of ruin, I believe, to M. de Bois-Ferré. If he recovers, he may curse us both for not letting him die; but we can't consider that: our business is to cure him."

M. Vauban passed out, and went down the stairs, humming a snatch from an old song. He was neither heartless nor cynical, but a long professional career had inured him to the most painful and critical experiences. He was sorry for Bois-Ferré, and was doing his best for him; but what most needed his compassion he could not take au sérieux.

WILLIAM J. ONAHAN.

WILLIAM J. ONAHAN was born at Leighlin Bridge, County Carlow. In 1845 his parents moved to Liverpool, taking up residence in the parish of the famous Mgr. Nugent. In St. Nicholas' Pro-Cathedral in Liverpool the boy served as an acolyte, attending Catholic schools in that city. He was well grounded when in 1852 he decided to come to America. He was young, buoyant, and seeking adventure. In raising a regiment during the civil war he not only drained his purse of its last dollar but he embarrassed himself for years in the future. When the war was over Mr. Onahan took up the cause of social reform. In 1865 he organized the St. Patrick's Society of Chicago. In December, 1893, the Pope showed his appreciation of Mr. Onahan's many labors by making him private Chamberlain of the Sword and Cape; he is regarded as "the premier Catholic layman of the United States. He has held various offices under the government of the city of Chicago. He is a cultivated and impressive speaker. Some of his lectures have been published in book form. He has received degrees from Notre Dame University, St. John's College, New York, and St. Xavier's College, Cincinnati, and he is one of the distinguished group of Lætare medalists, which included John Gilmary Shea, Augustine Daly, General Newton, and Mr. Charles Bonaparte.

PATRICK SARSFIELD, EARL OF LUCAN,

1650-1693.

From 'Eminent Irishmen in Foreign Service.'

Of all the names in the thronging litany of famous Irish exiles in the seventeenth century who won glory and fame on foreign fields after vainly fighting for religious freedom and national rights at home, none so thrills and stirs the Irish heart when recalled in speech or song as does that of the gallant Patrick Sarsfield, Earl of Lucan.

More than any other character in the history of the period Sarsfield stands out the embodiment of the hopes and passionate aspirations of his countrymen, as he likewise typified in his character and qualities their leading traits and characteristics. His passionate love of Ireland, his fidelity to the king who was the first of English monarchs to promise fair play to Ireland, his dashing qualities as a leader in the campaigns in which he engaged at home and abroad, his generous and chivalrous character, acknowledged alike by friend and foe-all these combined

to win for him the admiration and the affection of the Irish people. Then, too, the touching circumstances of his death on a foreign field; and the tradition that as he lay on the ground, withdrawing his hand from his breast and finding it covered with blood, he is said to have exclaimed: "Oh, that this were for Ireland!"

No wonder Sarsfield's memory is embalmed in the hearts of his countrymen, nor that the mention of his heroic name. should recall the glories and fame of the Irish brigades in the service of France. And what a thrilling chronicle it is! How touching in its pathos, how exciting in incidents, how characteristically inconstant in fortune! But whatever the alternation, these Irish exiled soldiers in victory or in defeat proved themselves loyal to the ancient faith and the ancient land, as well as unswervingly faithful to their new allegiance.

No wonder Louis XV. should have been proud of his Irish contingent, who fought so valorously under the French flag all over the continent. No marvel that George II., hearing of their exploits in the army of his rival and enemy, should have exclaimed: "Cursed be the laws that deprive me of such subjects!"

Even Macaulay is forced to pay reluctant tribute to the continental Irish. "There were, indeed," he says, "Irish Roman Catholics of great ability, energy and ambition; but they were to be found everywhere except in Ireland, at Versailles and at St. Ildefonso; in the armies of Frederic and in the armies of Maria Thérèse. One exile became a Marshal of France. Another became prime minister of Spain. If he had stayed in his native land he would have been regarded as an inferior by all the ignorant and worthless squireens who had signed the declaration against transubstantiation. In his palace at Madrid he had the pleasure of being assiduously courted by the ambassadors of George II., and of bidding defiance in high terms to the ambassador of George III. Scattered over all Europe were to be found brave Irish generals, dexterous Irish diplomats, Irish counts, Irish barons, Irish Knights of St. Louis and St. Leopold, of the White Eagle and the Golden Fleece, who if they had remained in the house of bondage could not have been ensigns of marching regiments or freemen of petty corporations."

Little seems to be known as to the exact place or date of Patrick Sarsfield's birth, although tradition has set down Lucan and the year 1650 as the place and time. And equally scant are the data as to the circumstances of his youth. We only know that he was sent to a French military academy for his studies, and that from there he graduated into the regiment of Monmouth, under whom he served as an ensign in the English contingent which, curiously, then fought under Louis XIV., in the Low Countries. But more curious still, Sarsfield afterward fought against Monmouth at the battle or fight of Sedgmoor, when the foolish prince was led to attempt the dethronement of King James.

At all events, Sarsfield acquired his first military experience on the continent under the French king's flag, and the commanding general or marshal in his first campaign was the same under whom he laid down his life more than twenty years later at the battle of Landen.

Following his campaign in Flanders, Sarsfield was employed at the court in London in the king's guards (Charles II.) and appears to have held the rank of lieutenant. With the death of Charles II., and the accession of his brother, the ill-starred James II., Sarsfield was called into more active service. First sent to Ireland, he returned to take part, as I have said, in the movement against the duke of Monmouth. He was dangerously wounded in the brief battle of Sedgmoor, and was even left for dead on the field. Recovering, he returned to Ireland and entered into the possession of the patrimonial estate, to which he succeeded in consequence of the death of his brother. About this time also he married a daughter of the earl of ClanricardHonora Burke.

The troubles of King James in England culminated in the memorable invasion organized and led by his son-inlaw, William, Prince of Orange. To meet the threatened danger Irish troops were drafted from Ireland, and among these was Sarsfield, now a colonel of dragoons. His first encounter at this time with the forces of the prince of Orange was when his dragoons were ordered on outpost duty. While thus engaged Sarsfield came up with a troop from William's forces commanded by a dashing ScotCampbell. As the story is related, the Scotchman, nothing