OUTSIDE the domain of faith, in the old dispensation, and the sacred gospel, the prospect beyond this mortal life was a speculation perplexing and alarming for the ignorant and the wise in all ages of the world. It was a melancholy reflection for the Gentile that human existence might terminate in the grave, and the evening of life be succeeded by an eternal night. Beyond the visible boundary of death what would be the condition of man; through what scenes he would pass, whether he had cause for hope or fear, no human sagacity could discover. Around the grave it was entirely a region of uncertainty, a land of darkness whence no information was received. The vulgar amused themselves with fictions, the wise with uncertain conjectures; but that the body should obtain an incorruptible union with the immortal soul was not expected. Thank heaven! the light of revelation has dissipated all uncertainty about our future state, and has given us an inestimable assurance that the grave does not destroy our being, that the close of our mortal career is the commencement of immortal life. "I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren," says St. Paul, concerning them that are asleep, that ye sorrow not even as others who have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also who sleep in Jesus will God bring with him." There can be nothing more cheering than this information, even amidst the other numerous and ineffable consolations of our noble religion. What, we may ask, is the greatest sadness of human life encountered in the mere consideration of man's mortal condition, the tenant of a valley of tears?

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Will we cite poverty, sickness, "perils on the road, perils of the sea, perils with false brethren?" Certainly not. According to general public opinion man is not to be pitied, but rather congratulated, for bravely battling with such things; for, in the combat, he reaps the laurels of a hero, he earns the praise awarded to exalted mind, and to greatness of soul. The dark calamity extinguishing every light, the cold blight withering every flower, the sad cloud shrouding the life of man in grief and mourning, is to be found in death, and in death alone. Blessed, then, is the hope founded on faith, enlivened by charity, which reconciles to death, and disarms that last adversary of its terrors We may justly speak of that hope as the first ray which flashed from the glory of Christ arisen to make the grave smile with the joys of life. In that fair light we perceive that, although it is appointed for man to die once, although the vital union between soul and body must one day be dissolved, yet the separation is temporary, and conducive to a perfect union that never will be destroyed. We are taught to look upon death as a retreat from fear and pain, the gate to immortality, the passage to glory, the avenue of heaven. For, we are assured, that "we shall go whither our Saviour is gone, and that where he is we shall be also." By the instruction of the divine WORD we know and believe that the hour is coming, when "all that are in the grave shall hear the voice of the Son of man, and shall come forth." He who was made flesh," who was man to feel our woes and God to help us, declared that he would raise the dead, and for a testimony he arose triumphantly from the

sepulchre, thus guaranteeing that he would fulfil in us what had been accomplished in his own person. With majestic simplicity he utters the assurance, "I am the resurrection and the life, he that believeth in me though he were dead yet shall he live, and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never dic." How this shall be is not a question of moral import. It suffices for all the purposes of religion to be informed that, though "we lie down in dishonor we shall be raised in glory."

Under the inspiration of those sacred truths the burial of the people of God has always been in harmony with the ordinances of religion, the instincts of reason, and the interests of society. Christian interment is an exact fulfilment of the penitential obligation imposed upon erring man by the Creator: "Dust thou art, and into dust thou shalt return" (Gen. 3). It is proper that the dead be not suddenly for gotten, in order that wholesome instruction may occasionally be imparted at the grave. Therefore Ecclesiastes says: "It is better to go to the house of mourning than to the house of feasting, for in that we are put in mind of the end of all, and the living thinketh what is to come" (Eccl. 7). None of the absurd, ridiculous, and impious usages prevalent amongst the Gentiles have ever been allowed by the true worshippers of the Judge of the living and the dead. The Pa-triarchs of the ancient covenant interred the dead in a most solemn and decorous manner. Abraham buried Sara his wife in a double cave of the field, that looked towards Mambre, this is Hebron in the land of Chanaan. And the field was made sure to Abraham, and the cave that was in it, for a possession to bury in, by the children of Heth" (Gen. 23). When Abraham died "Isaac and Ismael his sons buried him in the double

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cave which was situated in the field of Ephron." Isaac and his wife Rebecca were interred in the same place; and Jacob "charged his sons," saying, "I am now going to be gathered to my people; bury me with my fathers in the double cave which is in the field of Ephron" (Gen. 49). When the sacred history mentions funerals we never find the slightest trace of the barbarous notions of ancient or modern heathens. The action of pious Tobias shows that the people of God regarded interment of the dead as a duty of charity. The deprivation of sepulture was esteemed a disgrace and a severe chastisement. Hence the Prophet Jeremias published this terrible threat: "At that time, saith the Lord, they shall cast out the bones of the kings of Juda, and the bones of the princes thereof, and the bones of the priests, and the bones of the prophets, and the bones of the inhabitants of Jerusalem, out of their graves. And they shall spread them abroad to the sun, and the moon, and all the host of heaven whom they have loved. . . . They shall not be gathered, and they shall not be buried" (Jer. 8).

Since the foundation of the Church, the faithful have been careful to testify to the doctrine of the resurrection, by religious attention for the remains of departed brethren. They did not burn them like the inhuman Greeks and Romans, nor did they approve of the absurd mummeries of the Egyptians; but like the faithful of every generation since the creation, they acted in conformity with the injunction of holy writ, which says, "Cover the body of the just, and neglect not his burial." Tertullian, writing in the second century, says, "They washed and embalmed the venerated remains, and expended more in perfumes for the dead than the pagans at their sacrifices." The history of the early ages of

Christianity gives full information about the imposing and respectful funerals of those who in life had been "marked with the sign of the most Holy Trinity." The corpse was enwrapped in fine linen, or silk stuff, and sometimes clothed in rich apparel. After an exposition and vigils of prayer during three days, it was conveyed to the grave, accompanied by torch-bearers and chanters singing praises of God, and psalms expressing faith and hope in the resurrection. Solemn prayers, with the most adorable sacrifice, were offered, and an entertainment called agape, with other alms, were given to the poor. Memorial suffrages were repeated annually, and a daily remembrance was made in the celebration of the holy mass. Some articles were occasionally interred with the deceased, to signalize their dignity and virtue; such were the instruments of their martyrdom, vials or sponges containing their blood; epitaphs, at least their names, medals, laurel leaves, crosses, and gospels.

In the faith and practice of every age regarding the care of the dead, we see the motive of the Church in all that concerns the demise of those who rest in the peace of the Lord. The holy spouse of Christ, who blesses the cradle and surrounds with protection the infant entering upon the journey of life, omits nothing of her respect for man, when he closes his mortal pilgrimage and descends into the grave, in submission to the penalty of returning to dust. The holy Catholic Church knows and feels that the Christian's corpse has been the dwelling of a soul made to the image of God, renewed by Jesus Christ, consecrated by the Holy Ghost, and nourished by the adorable sacrament, which is "a partaking of the body of the Lord, and a pledge of resurrection unto life everlasting." Hence the funeral

obsequies at the sanctuary; the lights sparkling around the bier, the aspersions of holy water, the wreathing of blessed incense, and the ceremonies whereby the Church endeavors to shroud the remains of those committed to her care. In like manner we can account for the prayer and benediction with which the cemetery is honored, to signify that we must regard as sacred the earth containing the bodies of those called to be saints, and who.certainly become saints if they will live according to their vocation. Those venerable rites are not only honorable to the departed; they are instructive and consoling for the survivors, transporting our thoughts and feelings over the grave to the region of immortality, and verifying the communion of saints, by actually forming an interchange of holy offices between the living and the deceased.

We are not surprised, although very much disgusted, when at the present time the dupes of modern thought propose to perfect the Gentilism of our age by substituting cremation for Christian burial. Our Divine Master tells us that those who will not hear the Church are to be estimated as heathens and publicans; therefore it is quite consistent that the disciples of the father of lies should yearn for customs degrading to humanity, and revolting to common sense and to the holiest affections of religion. The proposal to burn the bodies of the deceased shows that its abettors are bereft of every principle and feeling of Christianity. It is evidently, from the above statements, a daring contradiction to all that religion has taught and practiced from the beginning; a felonious attempt to reproduce the fetid usages of satanical heathenism. We are shocked at the exhibition of brutality, which would dare to treat as a nuisance that human nature which

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united with the divine nature in the person of the WORD made flesh to redeem and save us. The utilita rian profession of those incendiaries indicates a fraternization with Judas, who grudged the waste of the spikenard with which dear

Magdalene anointed the feet of our adorable Saviour. They would abate considerable nuisance by following still farther the example of Judas, in dignified suspension from the bough of the greenwood tree.

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"Now hush, my dearie, hush, there's a man! Your mother is a poor creature, but she can take care of her little lad yet, and she will. It will never be she that will sit by and see him thrashed-not for all the Langtons and all the book-learning in the land!"

The speaker sat in her cottage kitchen, in an arm-chair by the fireside, plaiting straw; a feeble, sickly-looking woman, with a querulous face. She had fretted herself into ill health two years ago when her husband died, John Morton, the Brent fisherman, who had lost his life one wild night coming home round the headland with his laden boat; and she was never likely, with her indolent and repining nature, to be anything but an invalid now for the rest of her days.

On a stool at her feet sat the boy whose unmerited whipping she bewailed-a small child, disfigured by abundant weeping. The room had also one other occupant, a darkeyed girl of nineteen or twenty, who sat in the window sewing.

She sat sewing, but she let her work drop down upon her knees as Mrs. Morton spoke, and raised a face that was full of a strange kind of pain.

wouldn't care if Langton broke every bone in his body-as he nearly has done bad luck to his ugly face," she cried, bitterly.

"Mother, hush!"

As Mrs. Morton spoke those last words the girl's eyes had flashed, and her fingers had contracted almost convulsively.

And yet few others, men or women, would have been much concerned at a far greater amount of vituperation passed upon Philip Langton; few who had had any dealings with him would have been disposed to stand up very warmly in his defence. He was not a popular man in Brent.

He had come to the place a year ago to be master of the village school, as it was called. High testimonials had procured him the appointment, nor indeed were his abilities ever questioned; they were all that could be desired, and more than were needed for the post. He was found, however, to be violenttempered, haughty, reserved, independent, and soon got an ill name alike with parents and scholars.

He had been born and brought up as a gentleman. His father and mother had died when he was a child; at eighteen he had quarrelled with the uncle under whose guardianship he had been brought up, and utterly without resources of his own had left his house, and from that time to this his life had been a