The Catholic World Volume Ii Part 100

"Cursed," he cried, in a hoa.r.s.e voice,--"cursed be the b.l.o.o.d.y queen which reigneth in this land! Thrice accursed be the tyrants which hunt us to death! Tenfold accursed such as lure us to d.a.m.nation by the foul baits they do offer to tempt a man to lie to G.o.d and to others, to ruin those he loves, to become loathsome to himself by his mean crimes! But if one hath been cheated of his soul, robbed of the hope of heaven, debarred from his religion, thrust into the company of devils, let them fear him, yea, let them fear him, I say. Revenge is not impossible. What shall stay the {654} hand of such a man? What shall guard those impious tempters if many such should one day league for to sweep them from earth's face? If one be desperate of this world's life, he becomes terrible. How should he be to be dreaded who doth despair of heaven!"

With these wild words, he left me. He was gone ere I could speak.

TO BE CONTINUED.

From Chambers's Journal.

RESIGNED.

When my weary spinning's done, And the shades of eve grow deep, And by the bright hearthstone The old folk sit asleep; My heart and I in secret talk, when none can see me weep.

Ofttimes the driving rain, And sometimes the silent snow, Beat on the window-pane, And mingle sad and low With the hopes and fears, the smiles and tears, of a time long, long ago;

Till they act the tales they tell, And a step is on the floor, And a voice I once loved well Says: "Open me the door."

Then I turn with a chill from the mocking wind, which whispers "Nevermore!"---

To the little whitewashed room In which my days are spent; And, journeying toward the tomb, My companions gray and bent.

Who haply deem their grandchild's life not joyous, but content.

Ah me! for the suns not set, For the years not yet begun, For the days not numbered yet, And the work that must be done, Before the desert path is crossed, and the weary web is spun!

Like a beacon in the night, I see my first grey hair; And I scarce can tell aright If it is from age or care, For time glides silent o'er my life, and leaves no landmark there.

But perchance 'tis for the best.

And I must harder strive, If life is little blest.

Then not for life to live.

For though a heart has nought to take, it may have much to give.

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And they are old and poor.

And bread is hard to win.

And a guest is at the door Who soon must enter in, And to keep his shadow from their hearth, I daily toil and spin.

My sorrow is their gain, And I show not by a tear How my solitude and pain Have bought their comfort dear.

For the storm which wrecked my life's best hope has left me stranded here.

But I hear the neighbors say, That the hour-gla.s.s runs too fast, And I know that in that glad day, When toil and sorrow are past, The false and true shall receive their due, and hearts cease aching at last.

From The Month.

SAINTS OF THE DESERT.

BY THE REV. J. H. NEWMAN. D.D.

1. A sportsman fell in with Abbot Antony, when pleasantly conversing with his brethren, and was scandalized.

The old man said: "Put an arrow on the string, and bend your bow." He did so.

Then Antony said: "Bend it more;" and he bent it more.

Antony said: "More still." He answered: "I shall break it."

Then said Antony: "This will befal the brethren, if their minds are always on the stretch."

2. It is told of Abbot a.r.s.enius, how he was used to remain all night without sleep.

Then, when morning broke, and he needed rest, he used to say to sleep: Come, you good-for-nothing.

Then he took a nap, as he sat; and soon woke up again.

3. A brother said to Abbot Theodore, "Say some good word to me, for I am perishing."

He answered: I am in jeopardy myself, and what can I say to _thee?_

4. A brother said to Abbot Pastor: "I have done a great sin; give me a three years' penance." The abbot answered; "It is too much."

The brother said, "Give me a year." The old man said again, "It is too much."

The brothers round him asked, "Should it be forty days?" Still he answered, "It is too much."

For, said he, whoso doth penance with his whole heart, and never does the sin again, is received by G.o.d even on the penance of three days.

5. A brother had sinned, and the priest bade him leave the church.

Bessarion rose, and went out with him, saying: And I too am a sinner.

6. Abbott Macarius said: Never chide an erring brother angrily; for you are not bid save another's soul at the loss of your own.

7. Abbot Nilus said: If you would pray as you ought, beware of sadness; else you will run in vain.

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