consoled the widow, declared that in his dreams he had been assured of the salvation of her husband; and the man was buried honorably, bells were tolled, and mass was sung, and the friars departed on their way. 6. It is to instances of this kind that St. Jerome alludes in nis beautiful' epistle to Lacta, where he says, "A holy an faithful family must needs sanctify its infidel chief. That mar cannot be far from entering upon the career of faith, who is surrounded by wons and grandsons enlightened by the faith" 130. CATHOLIC RUINS. OAS WELL. FATHER CASWELL is a convert from Anglicanism, and a priest of the Ora ory of St. Philip Neri. He is a poet, calm, subdued, free from all turb lence, peaceful and serene. His poetry is of a very high order -Lv. Breconion. 1. WHERE once our fathers offer'd praise and prayer, Where rose upon the incense-breathing air The chant of olden time ; Now, amid arches mouldering to the earth, 2. Or worse; the heretic of modern days And in the pile our Faith alone could raise, God of our fathers, look upon our woe! How long shall thy true vine be trodden low, 3 Oh, by our glory in the days gone by; Oh, by thine ancient love; Oh, by our thousand Saints, who ceaseless cry Thou, for this isle, compassionate though just, But build again her temple from the dust, 131. GIL BLAS AND THE PARASITE LE SAGE. ALAIN RENÉ LE SAGE, a celebrated French novelist and d born in 1668, died in 1747. He is principally remembered "Gil Blas," which first appeared in 1715. 46 writer, Ais 1-ovel of 1. WHEN the omelet I had bespoken was read; I sat down to table by myself; and had not yet swallowed the first mouthful when the landlord came in, followed by the man who had stopped him in the street. This cavalier, who wore a long sword, and seemed to be about thirty years of age, advanced towards me with an eager air, saying, “Mr. Student, I am informed that you are that Signor Gil Blas of Santillane, who is the link of philosophy, and ornament of Oviedo ! Is it possible that you are that mirror of learning, that sublime genius, whose reputation is so great in this country? You know not," continued he, addressing himself to the innkeeper and his wife, "you know not what you possess ! You have a treasure in your house! Behold, in this young gentleman, the eighth wonder of the world!" Then turning to me, and throwing his arms about my neck, "Forgive,” cried he, "my transports! I cannot contain the joy that your presence creates." 2. I could not answer for some time, because he locked me so closely in his arms that I was almost suffocated for want of breath; and it was not till I had disengaged my head from 66 his embrace that I replied, "Signor Cavalier, I did not think my name was known at Peñaflor." "How! known !" resumed he, in his former strain; we keep a register of all the celebrated names within twenty leagues of us. You, in particular, are looked upon as a prodigy; and I don't at all doubt that Spain will one day be as proud of you as Greece was of her Seven Sages." These words were followed by a fresh hug, which I was forced to endure, though at the risk of strangulation. With the little experience I had, I ought not to have been the dupe of his professions and hyperbolical compliments. 3. I ought to have known, by his extravagant flattery, that he was one of those parasites who abound in every town, and who, when a stranger arrives, introduce themselves to him, in order to feast at his expense. But my youth and vanity made me judge otherwise. My admirer appeared to me so much of a gentleman, that I invited him to take a share of my supper. "Ah! with all my soul," cried he; "I am too much obliged to my kind stars for having thrown me in the way of the illustrious Gil Blas, not to enjoy my good fortune as long as I can! I have no great appetite," pursued he, "but I will sit down to bear you company, and eat a mouthful purely out of complaisance." 4. So saying, my panegyrist took his place right over against me; and, a cover being laid for him, he attacked the omelet as voraciously as if he had fasted three whole days. By his complaisant beginning I foresaw that our dish would not last long, and I therefore ordered a second, which they dressed with such dispatch that it was served just as we-orather he had made an end of the first. He proceeded o this with the same vigor; and found means, without losin one stroke of his teeth, to overwhelm me with praises during the whole repast, which made me very well pleased with my sweet self. He drank in proportion to his eating; sometimes to my health, sometimes to that of my father and mother, whose happiness in having such a son as I he could not enough admire. 5. All the while he plied me with wine, and insisted upon my doing him justice, while I toasted health for health, a cir cumstance which, together with his intoxicating flattery, put me into such good humor, that, seeing our second omelet half devoured, I asked the landlord if he had no fish in the house. Signor Corcuelo, who, in all likelihood, had a fellow-feeling with the parasite, replied, "I have a delicate trout; but those who eat it must pay for the sauce ;-'tis a bit too dainty for your palate, I doubt." "What do you call too dainty ?” said the sycophant, raising his voice; "you're a wiseacre, indeed! Know that there is nothing in this house too good for Signor Gil Blas of Santillane, who deserves to be entertained like a prince." 6. I was pleased at his laying hold of the landlord's last words, in which he prevented me, who, finding myself offended, said, with an air of disdain, "Produce this trout of yours, Gaffer Corcuelo, and give yourself no trouble about the con sequence." This was what the innkeeper wanted. He got it ready, and served it up in a trice. At sight of this new dish, I could perceive the parasite's eye sparkle with joy; and he renewed that complaisance-I mean for the fish—which he had already shown for the eggs. At last, however, he was obliged to give out, for fear of accident, being crammed to the very throat. 7. Having, therefore, eaten and drunk sufficiently, he thought proper to conclude the farce by rising from table and accosting me in these words: " Signor Gil Blas, I am too well satisfied with your good cheer to leave you without offering an important advice, which you seem to have great occasion for. Henceforth, beware of praise, and be upon your guard against everybody you do not know. You may meet with other people inclined to divert themselves with your credulity, and, per haps, to push things still further; but don't be duped again, nor believe yourself (though they should swear it) the eighth wonder of the world." So saying, he laughed in my face, and stalked away. 132. THE DYING CHILD ON NEW YEAR'S EVE. TENNYSON. 1 Ir you're waking, call me early, call me early, mother dear; For I would see the sun rise upon the glad new year: It is the last new year that ever I shall see; Then you may lay me low i' the mould, and think no more o' me. To-night I saw the sun set; he set and left behind The good old year, the dear old time, and all my peace of mind; And the new year's coming up, mother, but I shall never see The may upon the blackthorn, the leaf upon the tree. There's not a flower upon the hills; the frost is on the pane; I only wish to live till the snow-drops come again: I wish the snow would melt, and the sun come out on by 1 long to see a flower so before the day I die. The building rook will caw from the windy, ta sæetres, the wave; But I shall lie alone, mother, within the mouldering gravs When the flowers come again, mother, beneath the waning light, You'll never see 1ae more in the long gray fields at night, When from the dry dark wood the summer airs blow cool, On the oat-grass, and the sword-grass, and the bulrush in the pool. Ye'll bury me, my mother, just beneath the hawthor shade; |