chumens. 102 dele note. 146 In this note I have no intention of ORTHOD, JOUR, VOL. IȚI. fess to be perfect, so I am never sur◄ PETER GANDOLPHY. London, Nov. 22, 1815. P.S. It is very probable, that a work of such extent, as my four vo lumes of sermons, may be found to contain, by those who have purchased them, other inaccuracies besides those I am already informed off;-but I shall be at all times ready to apply to them a correcting hand, if persons will only state to me these faults in writing. I may be blamed for not being perfectly correct at all times;→→→ but when it is observed, to what dise tractions a missioner is continually exposed in the midst of his studies; Times, which he ought to have en titled "The Echo of the Times," the voice, stile, and words of both being very nearly the same. how he is often compelled to finish on the Saturday a sentence begun on the Monday, an excuse may be admitted by those who have never been themselves engaged in these arduous undertakings. The burthen of others often appears light, till we attempt to carry it. To the Editor of the Orthodox Journal. In order to lift this new publication into notice, he opens the matter by lamenting, that in this degenerate age of religious apathy, chimney-sweepers can hardly collect a sufficiency to light up an annual bonfire on the glo rious 5th of November. To quicken religious benevolence, he adds to the old matter of the Times, two columns of texts, which he has discovered in some forgotten controvertist, and he roundly attributes them to the Jesuits, as proofs of their pernicious doc trines. All this may perhaps edify chimney-sweepers; but every reader above that race of sooty students will presently know that the alledged texts are only falsified citations from the Ex travagantes, the Decretals of ancient Popes, or from the writings of Canon SIR, It has been remarked, that public curiosity has been awakened with regard to the Jesuits, by the folly of their enemies. Mr. Dallas has shewn, perhaps rather unexpectedly, that the present libellous persecution which assails them, is the effort of a conspiracy. His tract has proved, that the British conspirators, like those of France, are reduced to the miserable shift of insulting deceased Jesuits, because they cannot attack the few who have been lately recalled to life. These injured men how-ists, who lived and died before Je ever know, that if they are brought be fore the British public to be rejudged, they will not be condemned without being heard; this indeed was their hard fate in every Catholic country. The foreign conspirators first took care to debar them of the right of defence, the right of nature. They were men equally powerful and malicious; the meagre British conspirators, who are playing the aftergame, have not the 'same means; they are mere adders gnawing the file. The five letters which Mr. Dallas, has published from the Pilot, were supposed to have fairly cheaked the pitiful Laicus or Ralib, and with him the whole crew of bible-mongers. But Laicus and Ralib, (in whatever manner his name be anagrammatized,) is suits appeared in the church, (such were Östrensis, Parnomitanus, Prieras, &c.) or from divines, who were cotemporary with Jesuits, but were members of other orders, (such were Soto, Alphonsus de Castro,) or, f nally, mangled sentences from the few Jesuits who are named, Bellar min, Suarez, &c. I have requested my correspondent to send me no more "Register of the Times." Nov. 26, 1815. T.M. To the Editor of the Orthodox Journal. SIR, A perfect Christian charity prevails amongst the members of the Irish Hierarchy. Is there no mutual Ifriend in this country who can confer so desirable a blessing upon our mis only disconcerted. Unable alike to sion? Surely the task cannot be diff support his charges, and to bear his cult to restore harmony amongst those defeat in silence; he has been seeking who teach good will towards men. a new channel to convey the repe-am, Sir, a Friend and Catholic. tition of his slanders. Poor man, he has recourse to "The Register of the D. M- -L. I POETRY. The subject of the folowing Lines is the sup--Rever'd MATERNA! still have I admir'd posed case of a Young Lady, who enters the Thy happy children from the world retir❜d. Noviciate in a Religious House, but, before When, on some festal day, the vernal sun the expiration of the Probationary Course, Beam'd from mid' heav'n, just half its circuit relinquishes the Habit and returns to the World. Spinarum tuta sub statione ROSE. When howls the angry tempest through the sky, And thunders roll, and vivid lightnings fly, When heav'n descends in cataracts of rain, And torrents rush impetuous to the main; When foams the deep, and the mad billows roar; How blest his lot, who safely hous'd on shore, Scarce hears, within his Cabin's close retreat, The palt'ring storm against his casement beat! So, happy thrice and thrice secure are they, And stuns her vot'ries with incessant noise; Rever'd MATERNA,* oft have I admir'd Thy happy children from the world retir'd, From all its snares, from all its fatal charms, Its fancied pleasures, and its real alarms! Whether to God their voices they upraise, Warbling to Heav'n the sacred song of praise, Or lost in rapt'rous thought with love they glow, Before his holy altar bending low; Whether in solemn strains they own his pow'r, Or in relaxing converse spend the hour; run, And young and old, alike devoid of care, Joyous came forth its genial warmth to share; As round each fav'rite Nun the children play, Pleas'd with her smile more than their holiday, Quick glanc'd my eye athwart the Conventbound, And anxious view'd the well-known garden round, Where e'er in happier days was Edith* seen, Her brow unclouded and her mind at ease; But wherefore did she quit this blest retreat, And ev'ry choicest virtue loves to dwell: Where pure Religion fixes her abode, Soothes ev'ry pain aud lifts the soul to God. Here meek HUMILITY,with bashful mien, Is seen, yet wishes never to be seen; And CHARITY with all her soul on fire Here CHASTITY, array'd in simple vest, Glows with celestial flames of pure desire. (No earth born passion lurking in her breast) Each day renews her sacred nuptial-vows, With heart devoted to her heav'nly spouse. + Editha is a name of Saxon celebrity, signifying" abounding in prosperity." It occurs in the Calendar of Saints, and has received poetic canonization from the inspired Lays of a modern Minstrel. Its mention will recall no unpleasing recollections to the minds of those who are acquainted with Mortham's Hapless Bride, and the interesting Maid of Lorn. OBEDIENCE too, victorious over PRIDE, | For train'd to arts of innocence alone, Dead to herself and all the world beside, Her body on the earth, her soul above the And there REPENTANCE, silent and Bewails the world's offences and her own; The happy tenants of these holy shades And shuns what might another's bliss annoy, No guilty passions here exert their pow'r, And glowing energy they all aspire. From joys like these, in innocence secure, Where could she hope superior joys to find? Where might her heart find charms to equal these? And, O! if future bliss deserve thy care, rest, The world to Editha was still unknown. Ah! how inconstant is the human heart! Loathe and abhor, then covet and admire: Pleas'd in her dreams, and fill'd her with de Which, unpossess'd, were ardently desir'd, No more retirement renovates her soul, From earth ascending, penetrate the skies: And shall Religion captivate no more? While various projects are successive (Her sorrowing head reclining on her hand) Each effort serves but to encrease her pains. The hopes which once her raptur'd soul could warm, The fears which oft had fill'd her with alarm, Nor tan she bid one resolute adieu Immers'd in deep, unutterable woe, While her red eyes with burning tears o'erflow, A solemn, sacred silence reigns around, Pensive she sits; no kind adviser near, Arch was his look, bewitching was his mein, She smil'd, and wish'd t' embrace the lawless child. Scarce on her countenance that smile had stream, And Hope began upon her soul to beam, In fancy now from ev'ry sorrow free, How easy in the world to be a Saint! less. 'Twas thus she reason'd; for throughout the *whole, Though strong conflicting passions shook her soul, Through all the struggle, fiercely though assail'd, The love of Virtue constantly prevail'd : And if this world's enjoyment was in view, 'Twas still her hope t' enjoy the future too. Young Independence who, in playful sort, Continued still full in her view to sport, And ever and anon his pranks forbore, Perk'd in, her face, then beckon'd to the door, Observ'd the change, and strait, without command, Transported flew and seiz'd her willing hand. Instant she rose, with fond expectance gay, Dispos'd to follow where he leads the way. The scene of many a great event to thee. Here were thy first, thy best acquirements gain'd, Here was with skill the young idea train'd; Here information came with winning grace, While pleasure mantled o'er each smiling face, Mark where, above, the youthful brood repose, No care, no sorrow their light slumber knows, No fears of threat'ning ills their couch an. noy, And day returning brings return of joy. Strength to forsake that World which now is sought, And claims resistless each exulting thought, Farewell!-obedient to the World's strong call, See, see, she turns away and leaves them all. "Adieu, companions, and thou, "once lov'd cell, "Each source of past enjoyment, all farewell!" Go then, unthinking child; no longer stay; Pursue where Inclination leads the way: No locks withhold thee, and no bars prevent The quick accomplishment of thy intent; Nought shall impede thee in the great design, Persuasion shall not seek to undermine, Nor Force to thwart thy purpose;―rise, be free, Embrace the flatt'ring nymph sweet Liberty. Nor conscience binds thee, nor yet Honour's tie, Nor vows, nor promise hold thee.-Haste then, fly; Give up the cause, withont a tear. a moan, Go, and enjoy the World with all its charms, |