"Yes, it is I." "Pian, piano," said the voice. And I went softly into the room where the woman lay fluttering on the borderland of death. Si, Maria. The marsh fever was in her blood. She did not know us till dawn had whitened the fountain's rim. She looked me full in the eyes a moment. Her voice startled me with its strength, when she said: "Padre mio, it is almost ended, non è vero?" And she smiled; smiled, your excellency, in the shadow of death. "It is true," said I, "and you are reconciled." "Si, si-so long that time has seemed eternity. You will pray for my soul. I am near to peace, è vero. I am ready for the journey? Good! Listen; should he come again, you will tell him that I watch above the white stars on his coming. He never looked over the rim of my thoughts, never caught sight of blooms that opened like secret prayers. If my spirit-hands sought his; if I sent my soul in long flights after his, was I wrong? Who can hush back the echoes of a song, the music of a thought that is song within song? When he was gone to that far land, I called a last addio, and my heart was closed for ever. Shall I be forgiven, think you? Giuseppe! see the picture Carlo; blood on his sleeve;

the Madonna

there, the rose is at his feet. . . will he know .

She rose on her knees, your excellency, like a flame in the gloom, and we heard her death-call rise clear against the daybreak-" Pace, pace, pace!"

And Hawkins; you say he never married. I sometimes think he should have made his home among us. Well, we are none of us great artists with life; some color or line shall be missed; the quality never as we desire. Si, forbearance, your excellency; and after that-charity. You are going? This way, amicone. I will go with you to the gate. See! this is our fountain. Eccola a million mirrored stars are drifting from rim to rim, each in its punctual line. punctual line. Can you fathom His Good! Be careful of

ways? Ebbene, you are more resigned.

the steps-so. The night is beautiful. A rivederci; addio!

THE NECESSITY OF MYSTERY IN REVEALED RELIGION.

BY REV. GEORGE M. SEARLE, C.S.P.

EEEEEEE ANY people find great difficulty in accepting the dogmas of religion, because some of these dogmas are mysterious or incomprehensible. This difficulty, evidently, is found conspicuously in the teaching of the Church with regard to the Holy Trinity and the Real Presence of Christ in the Blessed. Sacrament. These doctrines may seem either to contain something contradictory or impossible, or to be a mere meaningless form of words. Unitarians claim that the first of them is a statement of a mathematical absurdity, namely, that the numbers three and one are identical; that if it does not mean this, it means nothing at all. And with regard to the second, it certainly seems to them and to many others that the presence of the same substance in even two places at the same time is simply impossible.

But our rationalist objectors go further than this. They cannot or will not accept anything which seems contrary to their ideas of wisdom, justice, or goodness. The dogma of eternal punishment, of everlasting suffering as a consequence of unrepented sin, or as a retribution for it, is a common. instance. They say that Almighty God must act on the same principles that a good or wise man would act on; for really God does not seem to them to differ much from a good or wise man except in the ability to attend to more things at the same time. Now, no good man, no philanthropist, would let any one suffer for ever, if he could help it; therefore, of course, it is quite impossible, according to them, that God can allow such a thing. Here then, and in other matters also, the objection is not that the dogma taught by the church is absolutely incomprehensible, but that it does not agree with our notions of what is right. If we say that hell exists, the statement is as comprehensible to the intellect as the same statement as to Asia or Africa; the difficulty simply is that they

"Yes, it is I." "Pian, piano," said the voice. And I went softly into the room where the woman lay fluttering on the borderland of death. Si, Maria. The marsh fever was in her blood. She did not know us till dawn had whitened the fountain's rim. She looked me full in the eyes a moment. Her voice startled me with its strength, when she said: "Padre mio, it is almost ended, almost ended, non è vero?" And she smiled; smiled, your excellency, in the shadow of death. "It is true," said I," and you are reconciled." "Si, si-so long that time has seemed eternity. You will pray for my soul. I am near to peace, è vero. I am ready for the journey? Good! Listen; should he come again, you will tell him that I watch above the white stars on his coming. He never looked over the rim of my thoughts, never caught sight of blooms that opened like secret prayers. If my spirit-hands sought his; if I sent my soul in long flights after his, was I wrong? Who can hush back the echoes of a song, the music of a thought that is song within song? When he was gone to that far land, I called a last addio, and my heart was closed for ever. Shall I be forgiven, think you? Giuseppe! see the picture the Madonna Carlo; blood on his sleeve; there, the rose is at his feet. . will he know .

will he

She rose on her knees, your excellency, like a flame in the gloom, and we heard her death-call rise clear against the daybreak-" Pace, pace, pace!"

And Hawkins; you say he never married. I sometimes think he should have made his home among us. Well, we are none of us great artists with life; some color or line shall be missed; the quality never as we desire. Si, forbearance, your excellency; and after that-charity. You are You are going? This way, amicone. I will go with you to the gate. See! this is our fountain. Eccola! a million mirrored stars are drifting from rim to rim, each in its punctual line. Can you fathom His ways? Ebbene, you are more resigned. Good! Be careful of A rivedèrci; addio!

the steps-so.

The night is beautiful.
The night is beautiful.

THE NECESSITY OF MYSTERY IN REVEALED RELIGION.

BY REV. GEORGE M. SEARLE, C.S.P.

ANY people find great difficulty in accepting the dogmas of religion, because some of these dogmas are mysterious or incomprehensible. This difficulty, evidently, is found conspicuously in the teaching of the Church with regard to the Holy Trinity and the Real Presence of Christ in the Blessed, Sacrament. These doctrines may seem either to contain something contradictory or impossible, or to be a mere meaningless form of words. Unitarians claim that the first of them is a statement of a mathematical absurdity, namely, that the numbers three and one are identical; that if it does not mean this, it means nothing at all. And with regard to the second, it certainly seems to them and to many others that the presence of the same substance in even two places at the same time is simply impossible.

of

But our rationalist objectors go further than this. They cannot or will not accept anything which seems contrary to their ideas of wisdom, justice, or goodness. The dogma eternal punishment, of everlasting suffering as a consequence of unrepented sin, or as a retribution for it, is a common. instance. They say that Almighty God must act on the same principles that a good or wise man would act on; for really God does not seem to them to differ much from a good or wise man except in the ability to attend to more things at the same time. Now, no good man, no philanthropist, would let any one suffer for ever, if he could help it; therefore, of course, it is quite impossible, according to them, that God can allow such a thing. Here then, and in other matters also, the objection is not that the dogma taught by the church is absolutely incomprehensible, but that it does not agree with our notions of what is right. If we say that hell exists, the statement is as comprehensible to the intellect as the same statement as to Asia or Africa; the difficulty simply is that they

"Yes, it is I." 'Pian, piano," said the voice. And I went softly into the room where the woman lay fluttering on the borderland of death. Si, Maria. The marsh fever was in her blood. She did not know us till dawn had whitened the fountain's rim. She looked me full in the eyes a moment. Her voice startled me with its strength, when she said: "Padre mio, it is almost ended, non è vero?” And she smiled; smiled, your excellency, in the shadow of death. "It is true," said I, "and you are reconciled." "Si, si-so long that time has seemed eternity. You will pray for my soul. I am near

to peace, è vero. I am ready for the journey? Good!

Listen; should he come again, you will tell him that I watch above the white stars on his coming. He never looked over the rim of my thoughts, never caught sight of blooms that opened like secret prayers. If my spirit-hands sought his; if I sent my soul in long flights after his, was I wrong? Who can hush back the echoes of a song, the music of a thought that is song within song? When he was gone to that far land, I called a last addio, and my heart was closed for ever. Shall I be forgiven, think you? Giuseppe! see the picture Carlo; blood on his sleeve;

the Madonna

She rose on her knees, your excellency, like a flame in the gloom, and we heard her death-call rise clear against the daybreak-" Pace, pace, pace!"

And Hawkins; you say he never married. I sometimes think he should have made his home among us. Well, we are none of us great artists with life; some color or line shall be missed; the quality never as we desire. Si, forbearance, your excellency; and after that-charity. You are going? This way, amicone. I will go with you to the gate. See! this is our fountain. Eccola a million mirrored stars are drifting from rim to rim, each in its punctual line. Can you fathom His ways? Ebbene, you are more resigned. Good! Be careful of the steps-so. The night is beautiful. A rivederci; addio!