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be ascribed the lack of such a power editorials, which gives evidence of as public conscience. There seems disjointed thinking, and a desire to to be no thorough expression of the “fill up,” as journalists put it. The national judgment upon, and con- higher English journalism is far demnation of, public crimes and superior to ours in point of thought abuses. The press is the only and deliberate writing. No editorial organ through which such judg- article is inserted in the Times ments can be fulminated; but until it has been thoroughly exAmerican journalism is either afraid amined, weighed, and approved by or unwilling to ascend the tribunal. the entire editorial corps. Now and then some manly journal Until this homely virtue of slowwill denounce crime without fear or ness with sureness is practiced by favor; but our press, though without our writers, we shall look in vain a censorship, is more timid and ret- for an American literature. One icent than the press of any Euro- of our “novelists” boasts of having pean country. The people naturally written ninety large romances, and grow careless in noting political her publishers, with the newspapers, misdemeanors which

pronounce her an “ American clasthoroughly exposed, much less sic.” When quantity, not quality, punished. The public conscience, makes an artist's productions claswhich, if properly trained, could sic, our novelist's claim may be albecome as sensitive as individual lowed. Even geniuses like Walter conscience, is blinted. Most of our Scott and Dickens wrote themselves newspapers seem to regard crime out long before they reached their as good material for jokes. The last novel. The lesson which our column of police reports is fre- writers must learn is the lesson quently far more humorous and which the whole country must learn "spicy” than the column of wit and -festina lente. humor. An embezzling clerk fur- The American character must nishes fun for the whole side of a train and correct itself. We have comic paper. These may seem lit- no neighboring nations to keep us tle things, but they indicate pretty balanced. We are by ourselves, and fairly the turn of the popular mind. if we are not exposed to the mean

Haste and hurry, the national ness of copying from other nations, failing, spoil also nearly all our we have not the advantage of their literary work. What crude, un- greater experience and culture. finished articles are to be found in The people are rich in manifold our professedly literary periodicals! excellent traits, in high-toned paTheir aim seems to be to exact as triotism, in unbounded energy, in little thought as possible from their liberal patronage of the arts and readers. We find dainty little sciences, and a noble ambition to meaningless poems, pretty stories, develop the land with which God light superficial essays that can has blessed them. If the peace of be thoroughly mastered whilst quiet energy would come upon their lounging on a hotel piazza, or restlessness, if thoughtful examina

, travelling in a railway car. Some tion would enter into their religious of our journals depend for original and political speculations, if care matter on one writer, who is obliged and patience would take the place to write the editorials, review the of the spirit of brilliancy and senbooks, criticize the drama, report sation which pervades most of their the local news, and discuss the literary and artistic work, the namoney market. Even where a paper tion would rise into higher and has a large corps of writers there nobler civilization. We trust that ever seems a hurried tone in the our essay, which we fear illustrates the literary faults we have con- by faith, our whole life and its demned, may direct the attention destiny revealed to us in the clearest of our readers to the study of char- light. It should be our joy, as it acter in general, and in particular is our duty, to develop fully this to their own character, as it is glorious character within ourselves. modified by the spirit of our age If every Catholic in the land were and land. The highest and might. a good' Catholic, the presence of iest type of character, is that form- such a spiritual power and blessing ed by the teachings of the Catholic would elevate and purify even pubChurch. There is our morality lic opinion, and command an inguarded and watched by the con- fluence which all good men would fessional, our intellect disciplined reverence and applaud.

THE SUMMER OF THE SACRED HEART.

SOFTLY as their dying flowerets,

Gently as their angel lays,
Burdened with our prayerful sighings

Pass sweet Mary's silver days.
Grace-clad souls that round her altar

Felt the kiss of heaven's ray,
Waking from their trance angelic

Sad retrace life's dreary way.

Like a tempest-blighted garden

Seems now Mary's lovely shrine;
Like the beach-cast shells of ocean,

Hearts but echo joys divine.
The spell's but hushed, it is not broken;

Forth in doubled might 'twill roll,
Like the gushing kiss of summer

On the springtime's fainting soul.

Now June's mighty sun o'erwhelms us,

'Neath his gaze the flow'rets quail,
Like choice souls by God elected

Who 'neath love's sweet burden fail;
Till as falling dews of even

Soothes he them with sweets of grace,
That refreshed they glad may journey,

On to heaven, their resting-place.

As the sickle-bearer, stealing

Mid the barvest's golden folds,
Glideth on the gleaner Jesus

To his harvest of men's souls.
As Ruth of old, goes with him Mary,

Gathering up the scattered wheat,
That God's garner be o’erflowing,

That love's harvest be complete.

Lo! the birds with drooping pinions,

Warmth bath hushed their fairy song;
See the heated streams scarce murmur,

As they listless glide along.
Fervid nature basketh drowsy,

Sighing gives a fevered throb,
Like the so that silent revels

In the burning love of God.

He enthroned on yonder altar

That with perfumed beauty glows,
Wastes his heart with self-consumings

While it shares our human woes.
With the ligḥts, the flowers, and incense,

We before Him spend our sighs,
This love-sip is like the summer,

A foretaste of Paradise.

Fall not like the sun-pressed flowerets,

Droop not as the swooning scene,
Cease to sing not like the birdlings,

Grow not tepid as the stream.
Souls that Mary spring-like softened,

Summered then by Jesus' love,
As its joys, earth's griefs are fleeting,

Crowned by endless joys above.

MARRYING AN HEIRESS.

I.

unceasingly at the slowness of the “ TRIFLES LIGHT AS AIR."

cabriolet,” and kept up a constant

war of words with the conducteur. PIERRE FRÈchon invariably called One of the passengers was Monsieur the nondescript vehicle of which he Jérémie Hercule Blanque, a midwas the owner “a cabriolet of the dle-aged clothdealer of Bordeaux, first class,” but by any other name going to Nantes on business; the it could not have been less uncom- other was Gaston de Francheville, fortable. In dinginess, discom- who, baving been visiting a friend fort, and in the astounding vari- at Paimbæuf, was now on his way ety of groans and strange noises to his mother's château near Nantes. that it contrived to emit, it cer- Figure to yourself, Monsieur," tainly was • of the first class,” but Blanque was saying, having ceased Pierre generally managed before for an instant to exchange complistarting to conceal the equivocal ments with the driver, “ Figure to meaning of his pet epithets. yourself the immense advantage of

On a certain evening in February Christianizing China and the FeePierre's cabriolet jolted lazily on jee Islands ! When they had civilithe road between Paimbeuf and zation they would require fashion Nantes. It contained but two pas- and dress coats. Figure to yoursengers, both men, who grumbled self the yards and yards of broad

66

Are you

cloth ces autres would consume! young face, and prayed that it Parbleu! c'est magnifique! the might not be so. They laid her progress of civilization. I assure carefully on a seat, obliging the you, Monsieur, that I consider it a merchant to vacate his place, which blessed privilege to assist our mis- he did the more readily as he nosionaries with my mite."

ticed the sparkle of a diamond on “You cast bread upon the'waters the nerveless hand that had escaped that it may return,” Gaston de from the wet folds of her mantle. Francheville began. * Pierre !” he Monsieur Blanque felt much recalled out to the driver, “Stop! lieved in spite of himself. . He had There's somebody lying in the a genuine respect for wealth; he road."

was sure that no woman who wore "Ma foi !" responded Pierre's a diamond ring could have designs drawling voice, “I see nothing." on his property.

blind ? The light from “What will you do with her?” the lantern falls on it-a dark ob- demanded he. ject at the edge of the road.”

“Leave her at one of the Nantes “You are right, Monsieur le hospitals if she does not make her Comte," said Pierre, alighting, lan- wishes known before we reach the tern in hand. “Ma foi c'est une city," answered Pierre, taking out femme!”

a flask of wine, and forcing a por“A woman!" echoed Gaston, tion of its contents into the girl's jumping to the ground.

mouth. “One rever knows what may The cabriolet pursued its slow happen,” muttered prudent Mon- course. After a while the girl shivsieur Blanque, taking advantage of ered, and moved her head with a the absence of his fellow-traveller faint moan. and Pierre, to transfer his watch Gaston rather clumsily divested and purse from his pocket to the her of the wet cloak, and supplied leg of his left boot.

its place with his overcoat. " A woman out on such a night!" “Very imprudent, young gentleAnd Gaston joined Pierre at the man, very imprudent," put in the side of the road, where, with the cloth merchant, who, since he had leafless branches of an old thorn heard Gaston called Monsieur le tree waving above her like skeleton Comte, looked on him with infingers, a woman lay prone on the creased interest. Though young rain-soaked ground. She was myself, I would not have done so, wrapped in a cloak of the stuff but youth, unaccustomed to the called waterproof, which was any- cloth business, is ever imprudent. thing but proof against the swift- I assure you, Monsieur le Comte, descending torrent of mingled sleet that if your coat has not been and rain. She was insensible. Be- sponged the dampness will greatly tween them, Gaston and Pierre in—sacr-r-r-r-re !" carried her to the cabriolet. Her A crash and a sudden shock cut hood fell away from a fair, girlish short his speech. The cabriolet face, framed by clustering brown with its usual deliberation sunk on hair, that under the gleams of the

one side. lantern seemed threaded with gold. "A wheel off, Messieurs !" Pierre Her eyelids, pale and pure as the laconically announced. petals of a camellia, did not tremble 66 Where are we?" in the light, and there was no trace “Four miles from Nantes-a of color in the exquisite lips. quarter of a mile from the château

66 She is dead !" cried Pierre. de Francheville." Gaston kept his eyes on the fair “ That’s fortunate,” said Gaston.

was

66 Drive on to the château. They'll sciousness she gave, was a moan give you a bed there, for you'll not uttered at intervals. be able to find a wheelwright to- Monsieur Blanque, who had fallen night."

in the rear, suddenly uttered a Pierre grunted an assent to this stifled exclamation. Gaston stopproposition, and groped about in ped. Monsieur Blanque had stumthe dark to ascertain the extent of bled upon one of the softest places the injury.

in the very soft road. The sticky "I deceived myself, gentlemen," yielding mud clung to his boots. he said, when he had completed the le stood on his right foot, and examination." It is not the wheel. pulled up his left; then he stood on It is a broken axle. You'll have to his left and pulled up his right, and alight, and walk to the château.”

then da capo.

Poor Monsieur Expostulation

useless. Blanque! " What would you ?" demanded - Sac-r-r-r-re! help! dame!” he Pierre, calmly eyeing his passen- cried in answer to Gaston's inquiry. gers.

" Can one drive on with His struggles were as vain as they broken axle? I ask you that, were violent. His boots had been Messieurs !"

made to accommodate his corns, Gaston supplied himself with all and when at last he extricated himthe rugs and blankets he could lay self, one of his boots remained a hands on for sheltering the lady, prey to the tenacity of the soil. and the two passengers got out on His anguish was excessive when he the road, while Pierre drove to discovered that this was his left wards the château with his disabled boot-the boot that contained his vehicle, leaving them to follow as money and watch. best they could.

To plunge in after it would be Monsieur Blanque was only up- to renew his troubles. To ask his held from sinking under this mis- companion's assistance, incumfortune by the consciousness that bered as he was by the unconscious his valuables were in a compara- girl, merely to recover a boot, tively safe place, and that his coat, would seem ridiculous, and Monhaving been sponged, would not be sieur Blanque could not bring himlikely to suffer from the rain. self to confess that the lost boot When Gaston tendered him the contained his valuables. In an hospitality of the château, he had agony of perplexity, he entered the grown nervous. “People don't warm hall of the château. give anything for nothing," re- The appearance of guests rather flected this profound student of surprised Madame de Francheville; bourgeois human nature. “ One but she regarded hospitality as a never knows what may happen. duty to be exercised with discretion The château de Francheville may and a frugal mind. She welcomed be a high-sounding name for a den her son and Monsieur Blanque with of thieves. What if the Comte and stately cordiality, while wondering the conducteur are in league to rob whether the remains of the game the junior member of the firm of pâtés left from dinner could be Drap et Blanque?”

warmed up for these hungry newDisturbed in mind by these comers. frightful conjectures and groaning Madame de Francheville's rich in spirit, Monsieur Blanque toiled pearl-colored silk and delicate point over the yielding soil of the road, lace thoroughly impressed the cloth feeling like a lamb led to slaughter. merchant with a sense of the per

Gaston was compelled to carry fect respectability of his fellowhis charge. The only sign of con- traveller.

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