MONTMORENCY.-A ROMAN CATHOLIC TALE.

(Continued from p. 213.)

"A FEW months," resumed Clarice, " after the death of Mrs. Granville we met with Mr. Willoughby at Paris, who sent Frances a Bible; this I secretly obtained possession of, and read it with avidity. I did not peruse the book of Exodus without noticing that the law given from Mount Sinai was not the same as that which our Church teaches her children; the second commandment forbidding the bowing down to and worshipping of graven images being entirely omitted in the catechism from which I had been instructed, and the tenth as divided into two to make up the number. I vainly searched throughout the books both of the Old and New Testament for any account of purgatory, of masses, of prayers for the dead, of worship due to the Virgin, to saints, or to angels; on the contrary, I found it recorded in the book of Revelations that when John fell down to worship before the angel he was not commended, but charged to do it not, to worship God. I could not reconcile this with the doctrines taught by our Church, neither could I find one word in Scripture about indulgences, works of supererogation, pilgrimages, relics, or holy water. No precepts could I find authorizing Christian men and women to withdraw from the world and seclude themselves in nunneries and monasteries; on the contrary, the Scrip tures abounded with plain commands for practical active duties, their light was to shine before men, Christ prayed that his disciples might be kept from the evils of the world, not taken out of it. Clara, I read all this in the Bible. I read it eagerly then, but," Clarice sighed as she added, "I seldom read it now. I cannot obey its commands. I cannot leave all and follow Christ, the cross of persecution which I know would then await me is too heavy, it affrights me, I shrink from carrying it. I asked our village priest some weeks after I had read it, if I might not read the Bible; he told me it was a book too deep for one of my tender age and feeble understanding, adding, he would rather see me occupied about the usual avocations of youth than prying into the sacred mysteries wisely reserved for those who were called to the holy priesthood.

"I turned from him with an air of thoughtless gaiety, but said in my heart, You are wise, most reverend father, to conceal a book, the free circulation of which would weaken your hold over the consciences of your people; but his unwillingness to allow me to read it strengthened my belief in the truth of the sacred volume I had in my possession. Clara, do you ask me why, believing all this, I still continued, and still continue, to dissemble? Alas! I have already told you it was not without some pain I resolved to conceal my sentiments, to quench the light I had received in darkness. I saw much beauty, much grandeur in the Bible, but, like the young man in the Gospel who went away from the Saviour sorrowful when required to part with his earthly all, so I determined not yet to come out and touch not the unclean thing, not yet to wound a mother's heart, and bear the

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finger of scorn which those near and dear might then point at me. You weep, dear Clara, what have I said to pain you

? "

Clara indeed was weeping bitterly, for conscience which had long slumbered was now aroused, her past convictions, her past experience rushed on her mind. Had she not also shrunk from the cross, shrunk from faithfully confessing Christ before men, and was she not thus ungratefully requiting the kind Providence that had once sent her his Word, and even when she had weakly resigned it, had placed it a second time within her reach? All this rushed on her mind, producing feelings of self-reproach and gratitude somewhat similar, though doubtless far weaker, than those experienced by Peter, when he met the mild eye of his injured Master, whose look of love struck conviction to his soul, so that the denier of his Lord went out and wept bitterly. Clara, however, struggled to regain composure, and after a little further conversation the cousins separated, and spent the next hour in solitude in their own apartments. Very different were their feelings at the expiration of that hour. Clarice, on reaching her room, unlocked the drawer in which she had deposited the Bible her sister thought had long since been returned to him from whom she had received it; a tear fell from her eye as she saw the name of Ernest Willoughby written in the title page. She hastily closed the sacred volume as though she feared its piercing words. One text sounded in her ears and caused a momentary thrill to pass through her frame, "Whosoever shall deny me before men, him will I also deny before my Father which is in heaven."

I must yet, thought she, as the time may come when I shall see more clearly, act more decidedly; as yet I am young, a life of pleasure is before me, a more convenient season will arrive. Again conscience spoke. Clarice had read the Bible; her memory, naturally retentive,> recalled two of its sacred warnings. "Now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation," and again, "To-day, if ye will hear his voice, harden not your hearts." Clarice sighed, yes, and again she trembled, but she breathed no prayer to the God of grace, for the enemy of her soul 'presented to her mind the consequences of following Christ. Not merely must she renounce the pleasures of the world, but, in addition, she must encounter the anger and persecution of her friends, perhaps even death itself, should she boldly avow her principles, and refuse to submit to the authority of the Church; so she paused but for a moment ere her resolution was taken, and conscience quieted with that soul-deadening reply, "Go thy way for this time, when I have a convenient season I will send for thee," she took the Bible in her hand and hastened with it to her cousin's room. "Here, dear Clara, I bring you this forbidden book, conceal it carefully, as I have done, and conceal still more carefully any heretical sentiments it may produce in your mind. Farewell, but do not ponder over it so long as to forget our engagement for the evening."

as

Clara replied not, as she took the book, and carefully locking the door, fell on her knees and shed tears of mingled joy and sorrow, she earnestly implored pardon for the past, and strength for the future. She could not avoid reproaching herself for having formerly parted with her Testament, nor could she refrain from thanking her heavenly Father

who had now so unexpectedly put into her hand, not a portion, but the whole, of his written Word. She saw, on examining the state of her mind prior to her yielding to her brother's entreaties, that she had been too self-confident, too little aware of her own weakness. She now earnestly supplicated Divine assistance and illumination; she arose from her knees, penitent, yet happy, happier far than she had been for months, and safer, safer far than ever, for she had learned by painful experience that he who trusteth his own heart is a fool, and now, from the innermost recesses of her heart, the prayer arose, "Hold thou me up, and I shall be safe."

It will readily be believed the further perusal of the Scriptures tended further to convince Clara of the unscriptural doctrines taught by the Church of Rome, and though she now humbly determined in the strength of her Saviour, to shrink from no avowal she might be called on to make, she did not feel it to be her duty as yet openly to oppose what she believed to be sinful; indeed she felt such shame when she remembered the past, and such fear lest she should again be deprived of her Bible, that she resolved for the present to spend much of her time in quietly reading and praying for further wisdom and direction for the future. The chief thing that distressed her mind as her views grew clearer, and her faith stronger, was being apparently a devout worshipper in the idolatrous services offered to the Virgin, which she had ever felt some doubts respecting, and now saw so clearly to be sinful that she had decided on mentioning her scruples to F. A., and again incurring displeasure, when a circumstance occurred which, though unintentional on her part, led to the discovery of her sentiments.

One lovely evening about sunset Clara was sitting in her apartment reading her Bible, having first taken the precaution of locking the door. Suddenly she was alarmed by a shriek of terror which fell on her ear, and looking up saw a female servant rush from the house, enveloped in flames. Clara sprung from her seat, threw open the window which reached to the ground, and hastened to call assistance to the terrified girl, whose cries had already brought several persons to the spot, among the number of whom was Frances. The flames were soon extinguished, and all cause for alarm ceased, when Clara, relieved from her anxiety, again sought her apartment; she was startled on seeing her cousin Frances leaning against the window with an expression of countenance more sad and more gentle then usual. It was nothing astonishing to see her there, for since Clara had shown less inclination for gaiety Frances had certainly more sought her acquaintance, and frequently came into her room when she would have preferred solitude, but now the sight of her cousin acted like an electric shock on Clara, whose first fear was lest Frances should have seen or taken her precious book. The latter she certainly had not done, for it lay on the spot on which Clara had left it: the former she could not doubt; though not a word was uttered on the subject, a paleness, deeper than usual, was spread over the face of Frances, a tear trembled in her dark eye, but as her cousin entered the room she said, in a tone of forced calmness, "I am tired, Clara, very tired, and you look the same, so adieu for the night."

Clara anxiously longed for the dawn of the next morning, assured

she should then hear more if Frances had seen the Bible, but that day, and three successive ones passed, and Clara's fears were nearly dismissed, when a message was sent from F. Adrian to request an interview with her. Clara trembled from head to foot, but obeyed the summons, breathing an earnest prayer for a mouth and wisdom that none of her adversaries might gainsay or resist.

As she expected, F. Adrian was alone, and rising to meet her with even more than his usual gentleness, he led her to a seat.

"Daughter," said he, in a solemn and impressive tone of voice, "I have sent for you on a matter of great importance. Know you not we live in an enemy's land: know you not we have to wrestle against the powers of darkness, and that Satan is often transformed to an angel of light?"

Clara replied not, for she knew not what to say.

"Know you not this, daughter, or knowing this, should you not tremble lest, as the serpent beguiled Eve, through his subtlety, he should beguile you from the straight and narrow way, the one true fold, that Holy Church, out of whose pale there is no salvation?"

"Father," said Clara, "before I reply to your question, allow me to ask, what has awakened these fears for my safety, the kindness of which, believe me, I am fully conscious of ?"

"I have no hesitation in gratifying you, though I believe you can conjecture that these fears have been occasioned by the discovery so unexpectedly made by your devotedly-pious cousin, that you have in your possession a book, long since sent her by the heretic Willoughby, with the deadly design of making shipwreck of her faith, and teaching her rebellion against her spiritual advisers."

"Are you aware, Father," replied Clara, with solemnity, "that the book, the tendency of which you consider so deadly, is none other than the Bible, the revelation of God to his fallen creatures ?"

"I am not aware that the book you have in your possession is a faithful version of that revelation, for I suspect it to be corrupted to suit the designs of the heretics, but I am well aware that the indiscriminate use even of an authorized version, without the interpretation of the Church, has led, and still leads, to most dangerous heresies and fatal errors."

"But may I ask, how can I rest assured that the Church can infallibly interpret Scripture, or that the Divine Author of Christianity ever invested it with the power and commission so to do?"

Father Adrian took from his pocket a New Testament, adding, "I am most willing patiently to listen to, and remove, all your doubts, trusting I shall be the means of pulling you from the fire into which you have so heedlessly rushed." He then pointed out to Clara the following passage (Matt. xvi. 18, 19), " And I say also unto thee, that thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my Church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven." "Now it is well known that Peter was the first Bishop of Rome, he was the rock on which the Church was built, and against which the gates of hell were never to

prevail. The power first given to him has been continued to his successors, who, in one unbroken line, have filled the Papal chair from the time of Peter to the present day, and also to the priests, bishops, and vicars, whom they have ordained and intrusted with like authority. You see, then, how great is the power committed into their hands since even the Saviour says, 'What they shall bind on earth shall be bound in heaven.""

"Father," replied Clara, "I cannot as yet reply to your arguments, though I have read those words before. I need not ask if the version you have in your hand be a correct one, the fact of your teaching me from it is a sufficient proof to my mind that you believe it to be so. But since you condescend to instruct me from Scripture, I would ask, as the greatest favour, that you would show me any portion of that sacred volume which justifies the worship we offer to the Virgin, any that authorizes prayer for the dead, or one that speaks of a state of purgatory."

"Are you not aware that the Word of God consists of two parts of equal authority, the written and the unwritten, Holy Scripture and tradition. The latter contains many things most necessary to salvavation, which are not contained in the former, but committed to the keeping of the Church, from the lips of whose ministers the faithful receive it with equal reverence that they pay to the written word."

"If holy Scripture and the traditions of the Church equally proceed from the same Author, they cannot contradict one another; but must both have the same tendency. Am I not right in thinking thus ?

"Certainly, but remember the Church denies the right of private interpretation on different passages of Scripture."

"Does not the Church claim her authority for thus acting from the unwritten word?"

"Why do you suppose it is not equally derived from the written word?"

"Because I have read there that the Saviour commanded the Jews to search the Scriptures, and the Bereans are commended because they searched the Scriptures daily. Nor can I understand how in his written Word God should command the Scriptures to be searched, and in his unwritten Word forbid them to be read, lest the immortal soul, eager to know the truth, should perish in her humble attempt to discover it."

Father Adrian fixed his eyes on Clara with a sterner look than he had yet assumed, "You are well versed in Scripture lore, and I am tempted to address you in words which, if familiar to the ear, you may yet think cruelly harsh should I apply them to yourself. I therefore forbear to repeat them all, yet ask with a desire to make you reflect and tremble, Wilt thou not cease to pervert the right ways of the Lord?""

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"Wherein have I perverted? wherein have I erred?"

"Wherein have you erred! can you ask? By presumptuously receiving and reading for yourself a book, the indiscriminate use of which invariably leads to pride and self-sufficiency, till faith is shipwrecked on the rocks of heresy and the shoals of error."