that all He desired for the countless blessings which He poured on them continually, was, that they should give Him their hearts. And her rule of love was very easy; GOD was love, and therefore they were to love Him, and to show that love by loving one another; that so they might, here, as it were, prepare their hearts, like golden censers, polished and made meet, for being swung by the hands of holy Angels in heaven. For, she said that Angels watched over them, and gathered their good desires and sighs of love, and these they offered up to GOD in heaven, like the rising fumes of sweet-smelling incense.

"Love one another," she would say to them, early in the morning—as she led them forth in cool calm air, and brought them to the shrine of love, which yet was odorous with the devotional incense of the preceding evening-" love one another," she would often repeat to them, as the day grew apace, and the sun shone high in the heavens, and noontide came; "Love one another," she would still repeat, as it declined from the zenith, and the slanting shadows fell long over the meadow, and its last rays lighted, then tinged, the red clouds of the West; and when darkness began to grow, and all wonted and familiar things seemed to wane away from the eye, still she would repeat the same lesson, and as plaintive and tender as before, her last words as she gave them her nightly blessing, were "Love one another"-so that even in sleep, the heart might re-echo the sentiment, and rest like her own beloved Spouse, who while he slept, yet in his heart kept watch.

Nor was there ever a cloud over her face, save only when her little ones neglected or broke her golden rule. Then, indeed, she was stern, but it was more in sorrow than in anger. And even in her sternest mood, her love was shown but the more; for she would weep when she saw her little ones going away from her, as she was wont to call any such breach of the great law of Love. "Why would you fly from me?" she would say," why would the lamb leave the fold, in thoughtless waywardness, to seek the wolf?-why would you forsake one that loves you so dearly, and has done so much for you,-who has toiled and suffered for you, in cold, and want, and lack of all, that you should be rich and want nothing? Give me back your heart, my son, and do not fly from me, for I love you even now in your unhappiness, and}I will weep till you return, for I am weary while you are away from my side, and I am lonely as a solitary while even one of you refuses my embraces,—for while you are ungentle one to another, you wound my heart, and thoughtlessly it may be, but yet most truly you are unkind, ungrateful, and ungentle to me.

1

"He my beloved Spouse, from heaven, where his home is, looks down and implores you to return. He has Angels at his right hand, many and bright, holy and blessed spirits, who minister before the throne of Almighty GoD, in the palace of the Lamb, and these He sends sweeping through the bright blue skies, in golden copes, and dazzling wings, to help you unseen,-to lure you, by every gentle means, to come back to me. Sometimes it may be by showing you the worthlessness of what calls you away,—sometimes by making bitter the cup of pleasure, sometimes by spreading his bright wings over a rose, that you may be saved from its thorn,-sometimes letting you pluck the rose, that, in so doing, you may prick the hand, and by its pain be reproved for your having taken to be a truant from my side,-sometimes the bright and holy visitants touch the quick of your heart, and as you weep, they gather these salt tears, as precious first fruits of your return, laying them up as pearls of price, to be placed in my treasury, to give me joy out of sorrow.

"At other times, they breathe sweet and unseen influence when you are asleep, pressing you in the sweet fetters of a loving obedience, and smoothing the path, as it were, by strewing rose leaves in the way in which it is your's to walk.

"Come, then," she would say, in a sweet voice of plaintive appeal, that touched the soul of her strayed little one; "arise, make haste, my love, my dove, my beautiful one, and come. 'The winter is over.' You can love love one another; the rain is over and done,' your sorrow hath made amends for your fault. The flowers have appeared in the land; the voice of the turtle is heard; the fig-tree hath put forth her green figs; the vines in flower yield their sweet swell. Arise, my love, my beloved one, and come.' (Cant. ii. 10-13.) The sun of reconciliation hath risen. The stars shine out with a brighter lustre; the voice of sweet birds, Blessed Spirits, make melody, and the face of all external nature is changed, for you love one another, and the object of your existence and the sufferings of my spouse had but one object, to make you love GOD; and now I am happy and contented, for I know you love God, and fulfil the end of your being, when you prove this by loving one another."

Then would she tell them how needful it was that they should redouble their love one to another, in proportion as they had given offence. But though this was her lesson, yet often when any of her children had fallen, on their return, their own hearts told them how ungrateful

they had been, and that their ingratitude was as great as the original offence, and that therefore they were bound to love all the more, to do a thousand little offices of affection, in token of their sorrow, and of their firm resolve never to offend again.

M. A.

WISDOM'S CALL.

"Venite, Filii, audite me ;-timorem Domini docebo nos."

Ps. xxxiii. 12.

HEARKEN to me, and I will teach
How you may walk in holy fear:

'Tis WISDOM's voice to all and each;-
Then, children, hearken and draw near.

The trees of Spring, however fair

And gladsome be their flow'ring show,

Are idle, if the biting air

Nip the young buds, and lay them low.

How fair soe'er the tender shoot,

And flow'ring promise blithesome be,-
'Tis not the blossom, but the fruit
That seals the virtue of the tree.

Worldlings the shadow vain may chase,
Crown them with roses ere they fade,-
In run of pleasure leave no place
Of lovely promise unasṣayed.

Each passion and unchecked desire

May for a while assume the rein;

But they who idly sport with fire
Unwarned shall end in biting pain.

Alas! where pleasure leads, how soon
The heart shall mourn its ripe decay!
For, fickle as the waning moon,

Even at its best, it wears away.

But darker still, the hot pursuit

Of pleasure brings a heavier load,—

It nips the buds of virtue's fruit,

And shuts the heart from peace and GOD.

Then rather bend a willing ear

To virtue's voice and WISDOM's call,
Knowing that safety lies in fear,
The while neglect ensures a fall.*

'Tis WISDOM's voice that bids ye seek
The mysteries of healing power;
To live in justice,-mild and meek,——
That is the might of virtue's dower.

Further ensured that GoD, in love,

To all that come will smooth the way,-
All that is hurtful will remove,

And what is good will grant alway!

In Festo SS. Simonis et Juda, 1843.

* 66 Qui pavit, cavet; qui negligit incidit."-Sti. Bernardi Ser. ad Cler. 4.

"He that fears, is cautious; he that is negligent, falleth."

REVIEWS.

Holy Readings, giving the Cream of many Books in One, hopeful and good for all Catholics everywhere. By the Author of “Catholic Hours." 24mo. London: T. Jones, 63, Paternoster-row.

This is an agreeable and pleasing selection of devout passages from many writers. It is very neatly got up, with a quaint old title-page which takes our fancy wonderfully. There is a large proportion of original compositions, which confirm the well-tested approval of the "Catholic Hours," and some of which have already appeared in the pages of our former series. If we have any fault to find, it is with the admission of extracts from the pen of Pascal, especially by the side of St. Francis of Sales, and the B. Thomas à Kempis. Allowing, as we do, his depth of thought, and respecting his talents as an original writer, we must confess that we are not comfortable in reading anything from the slashing pen of one whom we dislike as the black-hearted author of the "Provincial Letters." As, however, there is decidedly nothing reprehensible, but the contrary, in the portions selected from him in the "Holy Readings," we hope the little volume may have an extensive circulation.

A Golden Treatise of Mental Prayer, with divers Spiritual Rules and Directions, no less profitable than necessary for all sorts of people. First composed by the Venerable and Blessed Father Fr. Peter de Alcantara. Translated into English by Giles Willoughby. (Reprint.) C. Dolman, New Bond-street.

This is a book quite after our own heart; in truth, it is long since we have had such a treat, as we have had in reading the good old English of the venerable Peter's life, which is prefixed to the "Golden Treatise," as well as the concise and forcible language of the devout treatise itself. We shall return to Giles Willoughby another time, but in the meanwhile we cordially advise our readers to get the little volume, and judge for themselves; we are sure their verdict on its merits will be the same as our own.