Pass'd o'er these waters; though the voice is fled,
Which made them as a singing fountain's flow,
Yet, when I sit in their long-faded track,

Sometimes the forest's murmur gives them back.

5. "Ask'st thou of him whose house is lone beneath? I was an eagle in my youthful pride,

When o'er the seas he came with summer's breath,
To dwell amidst us on the lake's green side.
Many the times of flowers have been since then;
Many, but bringing naught like him again.

6. "Not with hunter's bow and spear he came,
O'er the blue hills to chase the flying roe;
Not the dark glory of the woods to tame,

Laying their cedars, like the corn stacks, low; But to spread tidings of all holy things, Gladdening our souls as with the morning's wings.

7. "Doth not yon cypress whisper how we met,
I and my brethren that from earth are gone,
Under its boughs to hear his voice, which yet
Seems through their gloom to send a silvery tone?
He told of one the grave's dark lands who broke,
And our hearts burn'd within us as he spoke !

8. "He told of far and sunny lands, which lie

Beyond the dust wherein our fathers dwell: Bright must they be! for there are none that die, And none that weep, and none that say 'Farewell He came to guide us thither;-but away The happy call'd him, and he might not stay.

9. "We saw him slowly fade-athirst, perchance, For the fresh waters of that lovely clime; Yet was there still a sunbeam in his glance,

And on his gleaming hair no touch of time; Therefore we hoped-but now the lake looks dim, For the green summer comes and finds not him

10 "We gather'd round him in the dewy hour

Of one still morn, beneath his chosen tree:
From his clear voice at first the words of power
Came low, like moanings of a distant sea;
But swell'd, and shook the wilderness ere long,
As if the spirit of the breeze grew strong.

11. "And then once more they trembled on his tongue,
And his white eyelids flutter'd, and his head
Fell back, and mists upon his forehead hung-
Know'st thou not how we pass to join the dead?
It is enough! he sank upon my breast,-

--

Our friend that loved us, he was gone to rest!

12. "We buried him where he was wont to pray, By the calm lake, e'en here, at eventide; We rear'd this cross in token where he lay,

For on the cross, he said, his Lord had died! Now hath he surely reach'd, o'er mount and wave, That flowery land whose green turf hides no grave!

13 "But I am sad-I mourn the clear light taken Back from my people, o'er whose place it shone, The pathway to the better shore forsaken,

And the true words forgotten, save by one,
Who hears them faintly sounding from the past,
Mingled with death-songs, in each fitful blast."

Then spoke the wanderer forth, with kindling eye:
"Son of the wilderness, despair thou not,
Though the bright hour may seem to thee gone by,
And the cloud settled o'er thy nation's lot;
Heaven darkly works,-yet where the seed hath been
There shall the fruitage, glowing, yet be seen."

38. EARLY DAYS AT EMME (SBURG.

MRS. BETON.

MRS. E. A. SETON, foundress of the Sisters of Charity in the United States, was a convert to the Catholic faith. The following letters were written to two of her friends, shortly after she had commenced the estabishment of St. Joseph's, Emmettsburg-the Mother House of the Sistera of Charity. Her life has been beautifully written by Rev. Dr. White.

1. "If you have received no other letters than those you mention, you do not perhaps know of the happy conversion and subsequent death of our Harriet Seton. Cecilia's death Mr. Zocchi must have mentioned particularly. Harriet's was also every way consoling. I have them both lying close by our dwelling, and there say my Te Deum every evening. O Antonio, could you and Filippo know half the blessing you have procured us all!

2. "My Anna now treads in their steps, and is an example of youth, beauty, and grace, internally and externally, which must be and is admired as a most striking blessing not only to Ler mother, but to many. My two little girls are very good, and know no other language or thoughts but of serving and loving our dear Lord-I do not mean in a religious life, which cannot be judged at their age, but of being his wherever they may be.

3. "The distant hope your letter gives that there is a possibility of your coming to this country, is a light to my gloomy prospects for my poor children; not for their temporal good: our Lord knows I would never grieve to see them even beg gars, if they preserve and practise their faith; but their pros pect, in case of my death, is as desolate as it can be, unless they are given up to their old friends, which would be almost their certain ruin of principle.

4. I give all up, you may be sure, to Him who feeds the birds of heaven, as you say; but in the weak and decaying state of my health, which is almost broken down, can I look at the five without the fears and forebodings of a mother whose only thought or desire is for their eternity? Our blessed Cheverus seemed to have many hopes of them when he rame to see us last winter, and encouraged me to believe he

would do all he could for their protection. To him and your Filicchi hearts I commit them in this world.

5. Our success in having obtained the confidence of so many respectable parents, who have committed the whole charge of their children to us, to the number of about fifty, esides poor children who have not means of education, has enabled us to get on very well without debt or embarrassment, and I hope our Adored has already done a great deal through our establishment.

6. "The Rev. Superior of St. Mary's in Baltimore, who was our first director, has zealously endeavored to do a great deal more; but he did not find me as ready as converts generally are, as I had to include the consideration of my poor children in my religious character, which has greatly pleased and satisfied our blessed Cheverus and Archbishop Carroll, who is now more my protector than ever,-more truly attached to us, and finally takes the superior charge of our house, which at first he had bestowed on another: so that every thing I do or act, even in points less material, is and will be solely directed by them. . . . O Filicchi! how is the blessing you most love increased and increasing in our wooden land, as you used to call it! Blessed, a thousand times blessed, be His holy name forever!

7. "You direct your letter to Baltimore, but we are fifty miles from it, in the midst of woods and mountains. If we had but the dear Christian children and their father and mother, it would be an earthly paradise to me. No wars or rumors of wars here, but fields ripe with harvest; the mountain church, St. Mary's, the village church, St. Joseph's, and our spacious log-house, containing a private chapel (our Adored always there), is all our riches; and old Bony would not covet them; though one of the most eloquent and elegant orators at the bar of New York wrote our poor Harriet, among other reasons why she should not listen to the siren voice of her sister,' that in a few years every Catholic building should be razed to the ground, and our house shortly be pulled about our ears. That would be odd enough in the land of liberty.

8. "Will yon tell your most honored brother that my

prayers shall not now go beyond the grave for him, but will be equally constant? All the children go to communion once a month, except little Rebecca (Annina once a week), and believe me their mother's example and influence is not wanting to excite every devotion of gratitude and lively affection for their true and dearest friends and best of fathers, through whom they have received a real life, and been brought to the Ight of everlasting life. Our whole family, sisters and all, make our cause their own, and many, many communions have been and will be offered for you both, by souls who have no hope of knowing you but in heaven.

9. "Eternity, eternity, my brother! Will I pass it with you? So much has been given, which not only I never deserved, but have done every thing to provoke the adorable hand to withhold from me, that I even dare hope for that, that which I forever ask as the dearest, most desired favor. If I never write you again from this world, pray for me continually. If I am heard in the next, O Antonio, what would I not obtain for you, your Filippo, and all yours! . . . . May the blessings you bestow on us be rewarded to you a thousand times! Ever yours."

10. The blessings, however, enjoyed by the inmates of St. Joseph's, and the usefulness of the institution, would not have been permanent, without increased and strenuous exertions on the part of Mother Seton. The maintenance of the house found a provision in the income from the board and tuition of the pupils; but the debts contracted by the improvement of their property were yet to be liquidated, and threatened to place it in a very embarrassing position.

11. To avert the destruction of the institution, Mother Se ton privately appealed to the liberality of friends, among whom General Robert G. Harper was conspicuous, both for the in terest he manifested in the welfare of St. Joseph's house, and for the eminence of his position in society.' The following

1 General Harper, son-in-law of Charles Carroll of Carrollton, was one of the most gifted orators of the American Bar. Some of hir speeches have been published in 3 vols., 8vo.