-in presence of the criticised person. I allude to the "Exercise of Charity,' which ought regularly to take place once a week, instead of the Conference. A novice, designated by the Master, goes down on his knees in the middle of the lecture-room, and listens to all that the others, when questioned, have to say against him they, on their part, are bound to state whatever they may have noticed amiss in his conduct. Of course, external defects alone are to be mentioned. Instead of saying, "Notre Frère is not fervent," they must point out fixed acts of seeming negligence in religious duties, which may spring from absent-mindedness quite as well as from lack of fervor. This exercise, properly practised, effectually stops all backbiting or complaints against others; while the defects are made known to the person himself, so that he can take advantage of this knowledge. It is quite an upside down world.

The fact that so many virtues-charity, modesty, cordiality, piety, self-possession, gayety are requisite to pass the Recreation well, is the reason why the result is so generally unsuccessful. Some, striving to be supernatural in all things, contrive to be only unnatural and highly disagreeable in all. Others, very rightly laying down as a first principle that one must be natural, forget their position, and talk as they used to talk, before they "left the world." A few sentences having been exchanged about the weather, one novice, eager to avoid "useless words, effectually puts an end to the conversation in his group by relating, immediately and with out transition, what he is reading about the torments of hell. Another has filled a little note-book with anecdotes and sentences of the Saints about the Mother of Christ he begins the Recreation by asking his brother novices to "tell him something about Mary ;" and, on their professing themselves unequal to the task, launches off for a whole hour into a sea of words learned by heart. The FrancoIrish Brother makes his companions roar with laughter at the tricks he played on his teachers while at college; but by his side walks a mournful one, who, mindful of Seneca's saying, Quoties inter homines fui, minor homo redii," and of the Eastern proverb, "Speech is silver, but silence is gold," has resolved to be silent, -and does not even look up once during

the whole time. And the difficulty is greater still, because one is never allowed to choose one's companions; the first group you find is your group. They are, besides, generally formed by the Admoniteur at the beginning of the Recreation; he, according to instructions received, often puts together, as a test of temper, the most opposite characters of all. How amusing it is to see the Frère Directeur, late a lieutenant in the Mobiles during the war-a rollicking, jovial lover of harmless fun, and a great hater of what he calls "mysticism,"-walking about day after day and week after week with the Seraphic Brother above mentioned, who never will speak of anything less holy than the Sacred Heart, the conversion of the whole world, or a scheme formed by him for administering all railways by some new religious Order, designed to stoke and convey the passengers gratis, for the love of God! If you step into the Novitiate a month later, you will find them both in the same room; when Frère Séraphique begins sighing and groaning in his meditations, Frère Directeur has orders to put a stop to this piété extérieure by a loud, dry cough.

Then there are differences of principle too. Who would fancy that in the Novitiate, on a mere question of interpretation of the Rules, there could be found a vestige of two great parties? Yet so it is. Frère Admoniteur is waxing very red in the face, and having a serious tussle with the stoutest Brother in the whole lot. The latter, who has been a barrister of considerable practice at Angoulême, is now trying his professional abilities in the Novitiate. The Rules contradict each

other, he says. In one place we find that Brothers who are in experiment," i.e., having their vocation tested by menial offices and labors, are not to speak with those who remain after the first Recreation is over, until two o'clock. In another, it is said, on the contrary, that they must be present at this second Recreation. Frère Admoniteur, full of zeal, thinks to reconcile the contradiction by laying down the law thus: they are to be present, but not to speak. The ex-lawyer has him on the hip at once. What absurdity! a speechless Recreation! Both are indignant, but their indignation soon cools down, and they will beg each other's pardon very frankly before sunset.

In recreation again, the two contrary currents that must always be found in any Christian body of men are clearly noticeable; I mean the worldly and the unworldly tendency. This of course is very relative, and perhaps the term "worldly" may be found too strong, when describing a man who regularly scourges himself once a week or oftener. Still, in a community where this is the fashion, it is no decisive proof of unworldliness. A dislike to such as are more fervent; an undue notice and nervous horror of those little exaggerations to which pious persons are liable; an inordinate esteem of the purely natural qualities,-wit, energy, imagination, etc., -are much surer signs of the contrary direction of mind. Placed in a very different situation from men of the world, they judge of things, so far as it is lawful for them to judge at all, with the very same eyes as the latter. Ah, mon Frère !" says Brother Seraphicus, on retrouve le monde au noviciat." Rather disappointing, but very much to be expected; no man-and a fortiori no number of menbeing quite unworldly. All is relative, mon Frère! This worldly tendency is of course kept down and severely dealt with; but that those in whom it is found the most are the most opposed to the "spirit of the Society," I am not prepared to affirm. Worldly-minded men are usually practical; and practical men are of great use. Certainly, among my con-novices who left, as many left on account of exaggerated fervor as of worldliness. The lofty mystic will find more difficulty in getting on with St. Ignatius than the terre-à-terre man of business; and yet Ignatius is mystic too.

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No wonder that, under these difficulties, the Recreation is followed (for many) by a very remorseful visit to the chapel, deploring broken resolutions, schemes of "interior life" blown up, sore feelings of irritation, or headaches caused by too much constraint. Shortly after, the bell rings again for another exercise-that of the Tones." It is a short sermon, only one page in length, which every novice knows by heart; it contains in that brief compass, and without any transitions, all the principal tones which a preacher can take.

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The calm measured notes of the exposition-the thrilling call of tenderness and mercy-the ecstatic invocation to God -the thunders of rebuke, followed up by

a long Latin quotation from Joel,-a yet more vehement cry of holy indignation, swelling at once to enthusiasm, and then suddenly dying away on a key still lower than that of the exordium ;-all these so short, so condensed as to render it quite impossible really to feel sentiments of so brief duration such is this exercise. A good delivery of the Tones is almost as seldom to be met with as a black swan. But then, say those who favor it, that is the great advantage of the thing. If you can once get to deliver the Tones with effect: if you can manage to pass from this sentence, Agneau plein de douceur ! qui vous a donc forcé à vous charger de nos fautes, à accepter la mort pour nous donner la vie?" to the following: hommes stupides! ô hommes plongés dans le sommeil du péché !" giving their full and natural emphasis to each of these sentences, both so vehement in such a different way, you are not very likely to have much difficulty in delivering an ordinary sermon.

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After the Tones, the bell is rung for Catechism, an exercise in which the novices have to learn, both in speculation and by practice, the art of teaching in general, and especially the art of teaching religion. The Father who presides (sometimes a novice, at others the Socius of the Master) first gives general rules and hints, both as to what to say and how to say it; and notes how much severity, with what temperament of kindness, is required to maintain discipline. Then a novice stands forth in the middle, and for the nonce becomes the catechist; all the others are Sundayschool children. He proceeds to explain the first notions of religion to them; questions them sometimes; they, on their part, must personate children. They rather overdo it in general. Such laziness, such disorder, such insubordination, could hardly be found in a reformatory. He has here to show his presence of mind, his energy, his self command, and all the qualities indispensable to a good teacher. Then comes, as usual, the criticism; sometimes favorable, sometimes severe, always useful. In after life, the teacher will have no witnesses of his class but the boys, and no one to give him good advice. True, it will be more serious then, and this is but a sort of child's play; but there is no objection to sham fights, naval manoeuvres, and the Kriegspiel-why then

should not this sort of game have its value too?

Here I may add a word or two about a similar exercise, which, as I have heard, is practised during the Third Probation * (or second novitiate) by the priests who, after their theological studies, pass a year to prepare for active life in the ministry. I allude to the "Exercise of Confession." Certain of the "Tertiaires" are appointed beforehand, and have to study their parts as penitents, so as to give the most trouble possible to the Confessor. One is a dévote, laden with the sins of other people; another, a nun, with no end of scruples and peccadilloes of her own; a third is a soldier, rough and ready-says he has done nothing, but lets plenty of sins be wormed out of him by degrees. A man kneels down-he is a Voltairean workman, come to dispute; followed by an inn keeper, whose earnings are not always of the most honorable kind; and then there comes a monk, with an unintelligible confession, having done something he does not like to say, and fears to leave unsaid. After all these have been questioned, counselled, rebuked, and (if possible) absolved in turn, there is the inevitable judgment upon the performance. "Notre Père might have shown himself a little more authoritative in dealing with the Voltairean . . . perhaps patience was wanting in his treatment of the monk... he seemed to listen too willingly to the dévote's tales. . . " and so on. This exercise, though highly comical, if properly prepared by the characters, is also of great and undeniable value to the Catholic priest. It certainly seems at first sight irreverent; but then, let such as are shocked at the idea of "making game" of confession remember that by no other means can a priest, on account of the inviolable secrecy of that sacrament, discover either his own defects, or the remedy to them. Other priests cannot hear him while he confesses, and he is not allowed to hear others. The penitent may not correct him when he is wrong, and no one else is there to set him right. Long experience will of course help him, but at the cost of the penitents; and besides, time and age too often only confirm a bad habit of undue sternness or leniency.

The First Probation comprises only the time of Postulance, before admission as a novice,

After the Catechism, half an hour of manual work.

pass rapidly over the rest of the day, in which the exercises are of less importance. A writing lesson, French grammar class, reading of the "Imitation of Christ" and the "Life of a Saint," a short meditation, the recital of the Rosary, and the preparation of the Meditation for next day, bring the novices down to supper before they have time to think about it. Busy hours fly swiftly.

At supper the Menologium is read-a short biographical notice of the most remarkable Fathers who died on the following day. I do not mean to call in question the good faith of the author of these notices; but, really, some facts, when read, always excited my feelings of curiosity as to how far they could be properly authenticated. For instance, the life of Father Anchieta, a missionary in Brazil, deals in the marvellous to a very great extent; and without questioning the possibility of miracles, we very naturally inquire by what evidence these miracles are corroborated. Father Auchieta commanded the birds of the air, and they came and perched on his shoulder, or hovered over a sick companion to shade him from the burning sun. He walked out in the forest at night, and returned accompanied by a couple of "panthers," to which he threw a cluster of bananas to reward them for having gone with him. He took most venomous serpents into his hands and placed them on his lap, and they did not bite him. Many other similar and still more extraordinary things are related of him, probably first made known to the world by his Indian converts, whose truthfulness was not equal to the occasion, and collected by some Father who never thought of suspecting others of falsehood of which he was himself incapable. Such Fathers, dove-like in simplicity, if not serpent-like in wisdom, do exist, as I well know;-whether my supposition as regards the Indians is likely, the reader may judge for himself.

The evening Recreation, from 7.30 to 8.15, is enlivened by several interesting incidents. One is the arrival of a new Brother, who, having gone home after his retreat to bid his relations farewell, is rather low-spirited and dejected, and will remain so for about a week or two; but there is great jubilation over him for all that. Another is the visit of the Father

Minister, who has to take charge of all temporal affairs in the house; an aged, hoary-headed and white bearded priest, who looks older than he is on account of the scorching sun of Madura, where he was a missionary. He generally has plenty of tales to relate concerning the Hindoos; revolts of the native Christians against their missionaries when the latter are too high handed; arrival of an excommunicated priest from Goa to take his place; state of drunkenness in which the latter is found shortly after; disgust and repentance of the natives, and subsequent recall of the missionary. Also his poor opinion of the English Church in those parts, and his high appreciation of the impartiality of the British Government. But to-night he comes on a very different errand. As Minister of the Residence, he is in want of money. Things are going on very badly indeed; expenses are high and few alms are given, because the Jesuits have the reputation of being rich. "It is our churches," says he. "When people see the churches adorned as they are, they cannot believe that we are sometimes at a loss to know what we shall have to eat to morrow." And it is true for the rule is, that the Residences and Novitiates must subsist on alms. The colleges, which have fixed revenues, come to their help now and then; but there is no denying that sometimes there is a hard pull. Nevertheless, Ignatius is for adorning the churches, no matter what impression is produced, and Ignatius must be obeyed. Having arranged with the novices for a Novena to St. Joseph, the Father goes away; to return a few days afterward, triumphantly showing four bank-notes of a hundred francs.

Frère Admoniteur smites his hands to

gether; it is the signal to begin rehearsing the points of next day's Meditation, during the fifteen minutes which remain. The rehearsal does not, of course, exclude any private remarks or developments that a novice may have to give; and so the conversation goes on, until the bell rings. Then commences the great silencesilentium majus--to be observed until after breakfast next day. Novices must not speak at any time without some degree of necessity; but during the silentium majus they must not speak unless the necessity be absolute and immediate. All go to the private chapel, together with the Residence Fathers, and evening prayer, viz., the Litany of the Saints, is said. They then retire to their cells and examine their consciences, as before noon.

At nine the bell rings for bed-time. Frère Réglementaire is probably very glad to be able to put by his instrument for seven whole hours-if he does not dream of it at night. The curtains are pulled down, and divide the room into as many compartments as there are beds. Even to take off their coat or soutane, they must withdraw behind the curtains. Lights are extinguished, one after another; you soon hear a rushing, whistling, beating sound: it is the discipline, only permitted to some by special favor, for it is not Friday to-day.

All is silent again; and the novices, by order of Holy Obedience, go to sleep thinking of the next day's Meditation, with their hands crossed over their breast.

And now as we retire, let me in conclusion remind you, reader, of the title which this paper bears. It is but a glimpse into the Novitiate, and the very best eyes can see but little at one glimpse. -Blackwood's Magazine.

It is just nine years--it seems only yesterday-since I first saw his tall athletic

The chief incidents of this attempt at "landgrabbing" are related in as nearly as possible the same terms as they were to the writer by the principal actor in them. It will be observed that they took place some forty years ago, and it should be added that of recent years

figure, his piercing eyes, like jewels set in bronze glittering in the sunlight, glancing full at me from the sun-tanned face-a noble face with proud aquiline features framed in gray locks which peeped forth

no similar occurrences, so far as the writer is aware, have taken place in Turkey.