delight in dwelling on his considerate and loving rule, and the spirit of charity which breathed in the "blessed island;" and a curious monument of his popularity in the country remains in a Provençal poem of the thirteenth century by a monk of Lerins, who has made a quaint jumble of the story of the Saint and the feats of Charlemagne's preux. And here were we, in the nineteenth century, listening on the same "blessed island" to the same holy office which he and his brethren first sang here: Les choses passent, et les souvenirs restent.

The Bishop preached a good sermon, in which he spoke very warmly of the Fathers, whose monastery, by the way, is a favourite retreat of the bishops and dignitaries of the neighbourhood; then came the concluding part of the ceremony, and, last of all, Monseigneur drew the cords attached to the tongue of the big "St. Honorat," which sent its first full booming note far over the little island and the sunny sea; when hung in its tower, it will be heard, they say, almost at Nice. The ladies acting as marraines to the smaller bells did the same for their godchildren; and in the midst of the joyous clash and jingle the Bishop entoned the Te Deum, which was taken up by monks and people as we all followed the procession back to the monastery. There, leave was asked of the Father Prior for the Duchess and her suite to visit the interior, which is, of course, forbidden ground to women. It was granted, and the suite became very numerous indeed, so many pressed forward to follow. At last, the Prior called out "Assez!" the great doors were shut, and about a dozen of us left lamenting outside. It was disappointing to miss the chance, but there seemed no help for it, and we waited as patiently as we could for our more fortunate companions. One of our number, a bright charming girl, belonging to one of the noblest and worthiest houses of France, amused herself and us by mercilessly teasing the cross-grained old porter (not a religious) at the outer lodge: "Pour quoi ne sommes nous pas admises, toutes? je n'y comprends riens," she asked, with an air of innocent

unconsciousness.

"Parceque vous êtes des femmes-c'est à dire, le diable!" "Même les religieuses?" pointing to a Sœur de Bon Secours. "Même les religieuses! tout ça," with a comprehensive glance of disapproval, "tout ça, c'est du diable!" I think a little feeling of triumph over our enemy mingled with the pleasure with which we saw a white habit approaching us from another side: some one had spoken a good word for us, and we were to be admitted by another door. There was very little time certainly; and we had to hurry through the new buildings and above all the old part where one would gladly have lingered. Still, it was worth a good deal to pass through the low cloisters trodden by so many holy feet, the refectory spread with the daily dinner of potatoes and dry bread, and to glance at the doors of cells where, perhaps, Vincent, Salvianus, and St. Lupus may have prayed and studied. Then, our conductor opened a little door in the wall, and from the chill of the dark shaded cloister we stepped into a small sunny garden bright with stocks, honeysuckle and jessamine, looking more as if it belonged to a Devonshire farmhouse than a severe religious community, and he told us that we were on holy ground, for this was the very spot where one hundred and fifty monks were martyred for the faith by the Saracen invaders. It was hard in that bright little garden to realize the scene of savage butchery, the one episode of blood and violence in the peaceful annals of Lerins, but at the same time its crowning glory; and as we kissed the flowers sprung from that sacred soil which the good Father gave us as a souvenir, we thought that when St. Cesarius of Arles said of his beloved island: "This is she who, receiving young soldiers, maketh them kings," he uttered an unconscious prophecy of those who, in the midst of scholarly labours and peaceful seclusion, were being trained by obedience and penance for a battle in which they were to fight and die conquerors, under the banner of their Captain, and then to receive their royal "crowns of beauty" from the pierced Hand of their King.

Another Anecdote of Father Plowden.

FATHER PLOWDEN, of whom we spoke last time, was just beginning dinner one day when the servant came to tell him that a poor man wanted to speak to him. "Ask him if he can wait a few minutes," said the Father, "I shall soon be down." But the servant soon returned to say that the man was a sailor who had only just reached Bristol, and who had to go on board his ship as soon as he could. The Father immediately went down to him, and was much pleased with his open-hearted piety, heard his confession, and dismissed him with a hearty blessing. The Father then returned to his dinner, after which, according to his usual custom, he went out for a short walk. Observing several people hurrying towards the quay he proceeded in that direction, and soon learned that an accident had occurred. A boat conveying a passenger to one of the ships had capsized, and, owing to the number of vessels crowded together at the entrance of the quay, much difficulty was experienced in recovering those who had been upset. The rowers, however, were safely rescued, but more than half-an-hour had elapsed before the passenger could be found, and when at last he was laid on the quay it was evident that he was quite dead. Father Plowden hastened forward to satisfy himself of the truth of this assertion, and instantly recognized the countenance of the poor sailor, whose confession he had heard within the hour, and with whose piety he had been so much pleased. His death, though unexpected, was happily not unprepared.

Intention for the Apostolate of Prayer for July.

THE CATHOLIC MOVEMENT WITHIN THE ENGLISH

ESTABLISHMENT.

THE yearning after Catholic unity freely expressed by many members of the English Establishment, who have yet to learn that obedience to Peter is the one Divinely enjoined condition of that unity, has attracted the attention, and will largely engage the sympathy of the faithful in other lands. It is with gladness of heart and hopeful expectation of some signal mercy, already in part prepared in the counsels of GOD, that we make known to the Associates of the Apostleship of Prayer in the United Kingdom the Intention which, by the kindness of the Director General, is proposed during the month of July as the object of the combined petition of hundreds of thousands of fervent Catholics, and among the number very many favourite children of the SACRED HEART OF JESUS. Can it be that so many dear to GOD will plead in vain? Will not the eyes of men born blind be opened to the light of Heaven?

If there is power in united and unselfish prayer to win illuminating grace for all who do not absolutely and obstinately refuse to accept it, we have a right to feel sure that the time has come for a large outpouring of the Spirit of GOD upon thousands now severed from Catholic communion, but honestly striving to find the truth, and ready to obey the call at all costs, even with bleeding hearts. Let us not underrate the trial. Not now in England the rack and the knife give to chosen souls a

quick passage to Heaven, but there is much of very real martyrdom and patient confessorship which the angels know. Delicate girls, because they have chosen to obey GOD rather than man, are held to have forfeited all claim to a father's protection and a mother's love. Some are kept in harsh imprisonment, treated like criminals with details of parental cruelty, which, if they could find their way into our newspapers, and gain credence, would extort a cry of shame from honest Englishmen. Others are

It

driven from the home of their childhood as if their presence carried contamination with it. The mother that bore them prays GOD that she may never see their face again. These things happen not here and there and now and then, but seemingly by a fixed law of human action. Divine truth can seldom be a matter of indifference. must be loved or hated. Religious opinions, formed upon private study of the Bible or the Koran, or derived from unsent apostles, or any charlatan who finds it his interest to cry out, "Lo, here is Christ, and there is Christ!" all shades of misbelief, down to utter unbelief, find mercy and forbearance from fathers and mothers and husbands. Catholic faith alone is excluded from forgiveness.

Although conversion in England does not lie along a path of roses, yet many noble souls have listened and obeyed, and many more will follow their example. The obstacles which are interposed by flesh and blood are hard to surmount, but the grace of GOD can do, even easily, what to nature is impracticable. Conversion is in every case the change of the right hand of the Most High. When GOD undertakes a work He can carry it through, for to Him nothing is impossible or difficult. He will carry through the work of His predilection if His servants cooperate in "charity from a pure heart and a good conscience and an unfeigned faith."

The time for controversy has passed and the time for moving Heaven by prayer has come. Those who are trying to introduce the outward ceremonial of Catholic worship