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eternity; and here are wounds, which if unhealed, will end in a living death for all eternity. There is the Faith, (it might have been said but too often,) to be taught from its seed; a life of 30 to 35 years, (the average age of the cases,) to be retraced and looked into, period by period, year by year; contrition to be excited, love sought for, sacraments administered, hope encouraged; the time for this life-long work is now twenty minutes or half-an-hour; it may here and there extend to three-quarters of an hour ; or the utmost space may be only a quarter of an hour. One quarter of an hour, fifteen minutes of recollection, and a soul to be prepared for eternity! Oh, who are they who deem a personal consciousness of vocation, or personal holiness, warrants and powers equivalent to the inheritance of Apostles, gifts equal to the guiding and accomplishment of the work of saving a soul? Oh, awful inheritance! Oh, fearful trust! laid on shoulders unequal to the burden, energies too often sapped and decayed from the consciousness of a miserable past; spiritual powers too often trusted to hands soiled by contact with all that is vile in this world. Oh, greatness of requirement, hardly to be known by long contemplation of it, now to be fulfilled, as best he may fulfil them, by the priest in the few moments granted to him! Well for him that those divine things he is to handle are in themselves equal to all that can be required of them-that of his own he is to give nothing. But the time hurries forwards fearfully. He has done what he could-turned the keys on the past, and comforted the penitent so far as in him lies.

One want is in these cases realized to the full, and its greatness cannot be told. The rule of our Church practically cuts off such sufferers as these from receiving the Communion. Halfan-hour at the very shortest would be required for each individual administration of the Communion, by the English rubrics, when, all things are in his favour, the priest has but half-an-hour, or three quarters, for doing all he has to do; and this is necessarily taken up in the previous work of examining, confessing, and absolving his penitent, whose conscience (this is stated from sad experience,) is then for the first time examined. Thus, in diseases which do not physically incapacitate from reception of this sacrament, the poor penitent dies 'unhouseled.' We suggest, with great respect, whether it would not be possible for our Bishops to make some order on this all-important subject in their Dioceses, after the example, if they want one, of their Scotch brethren. We would not wantonly offend prejudices, or shock those who may view open questions differently from ourselves, but this subject is one upon which we do not feel required to maintain silence. Our Offices contain a rubric

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directed to prevent the prevalence of a certain form of old devotion which had been abused; but all antiquity, and the practice of every part of the Catholic Church, testify to the custom of preserving the sacrament for one purpose, that of the Communion of the Dying and the Sick. This is a great and practical grievance to devout minds among us; and we feel justified in calling attention to it. Experience, that sad source of conviction, has taught us that in a period of sudden and rapid deaths, crowding upon a charge of over-worked Clergy, and accompanied by such distractions as accompany a violent epidemic, the administration of the Communion of the Sick is practically impossible ; gives us the right; and therefore we ask respectfully whether there could not be some interpretation of the rubric in question, which would relieve the harassed and burdened servant of the Church from the wretched addition of continued scruples, or the grave alternative, too often taken, of debarring those who most need it, of that sacrament pronounced necessary for salvation.

But to return. That which it is in the priest's power to impart and the dying patient's power to receive, is given as best

The attendants are recalled. The Visitation of the Sick is said in the name of all present—to most of them, perhaps, it is read for the first time. It comes over them that they owe their spiritual life to a mother, whom they have never known; or known but to mock at. In this extremity her voice is pleading in their name. For the first time they light upon a language new to them, yet sounding as a mother's, and being a mother's, in unison with their weakness; while yet non hominum sonat, it rises to their needs and pleads their cause amongst a company beyond their reach. The office (the portions which were private, omitted) is soon said, yet broken off more than once to ease the bodily pains of the sufferer, and so piecemeal brought to an end. In the middle of such a scene, or at its solemn finish, hurried steps would announce the doctor. It is the young apprentice; he goes straight to the patient, nods a recognition, perhaps uncovers, in consideration of the presence and office of the priest; while the latter has to state what he has done. The apprentice feels the pulse and forehead of the patient, touches the tongue, flings the clothes over him again with the usual direction—' he must be kept warm. A bundle of blank forms is drawn forth, a pencil rapidly fills up the four or five necessary words. Cholera. -- Mr. -'s patient.—30 years of age-calomel-chalk-brandy. The paper is soon ready, an attendant sent with it to the Dispensary. The brief query of the Clergyman as to the report of the morning, as briefly answered— Full of work '—'not a chance for him'

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' above 100 cases to-day'—'great number fatal,' and he is on his way to the next case three doors lower down, leaving the company to digest in all its bitterness an announcement not unfeeling in intention, but dropped as a matter of course, and over true, as he well knows.

On the other hand, to his clerical locum tenens the office of leech was a hazardous matter. The medicines to be used were powerful to kill as well as to cure. Probably it was a craft altogether new to him, and taken upon the spur of the moment without learning. What deep and anxious interest followed the administering of these medicines, calculated and given with secret aspirations for a blessing on the dose! The most minute quantities were given at a time, that retching might not be provoked; the poor relatives fastened their hopes on those of the priest, and all watched with trembling anxiety for the result. Everything was done to keep the body from moving. Once kept on the stomach the medicine was powerful. For awhile it would seem to go well. The dark face, the hollow sunken eyes, the halls turned upward, with the look of congestion, the sharpened nose, blueness round the mouth, eyes, and forehead, were desperate signs; yet still there would be a hope. These symptoms had been safely passed through sometimes; why not now? Oh! that the sinful servant of God had been such an one as he to whom were given the lives of his fellow-voyagers on the sea; but no-it might not be. A few minutes, at the longest some fifteen, would decide the question. All is vomited again ; and so the case continues for the few hours of suffering left. Again time pressed; the priest could not become physician for good, though compelled to bear double burdens for the time. To each one of the Clergy twelve such cases, some days many more, needed anxious watching, besides less alarming cases of sickness. In all these he must watch for his opportunities. They were the few and rare intervals of cessation of pain during the violence of the disease; for at its commencement he was seldom present. A patient was ordinarily attacked at one of three periods—one, A.M.; noon; five, P.M., or thereabouts. We cannot offer any reason to account for it; but thus it was. Diarrhea was the symptom.

But, alas, after all, medicine, when cholera was at its height, was powerless; the most powerful are poured down the throats of men in their full strength an hour since. It is as drops of water on the fire. There is no stomach to hold them. There were many cases which, from first to last, mocked at any efforts within the compass of men. A man, in the prime of his life at thirty years, would go to his bed, after a day's work, in perfect

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bodily health ; at one or two in the morning came a summons to the vicarage door. Such a one 'got the complaint;' by the time the summons could be answered, his cause was evidently hopeless; a power had hold of the constitution, against which the struggle could last but minutes. By day-light all was over. Heavy-laboured breathing, and sometimes full consciousness, proved that life existed—no more: speech and sight gone; the body as if it had no entrails, and the gasping of the lungs imperceptibly lessening till life had melted into death, so gently that none could say which was the precise moment.

We quote from the notes :

August 27. - With two last night in different houses, not knowing which would go first. One, Mary Anne W-- I baptized yesterday. She died at 6 this morning. Last night begged they would send for me. Went as soon as I woke. She was fast going ; said the “ Commendation of the Soul.” Before I had finished she expired easily, as if, poor sufferer, she had thus gone through her chastening, and was waiting for her release. Her mother was dead already; her sister, sister's husband, and the husband's mother were dead a few days after. The other died at 11. 15 last night, after about fifteen hours' illness. He had been insensible since 3. One, who was with me in the room with him, as late as 10, died this morning after a few hours' illness. He had been a companion of the dying man. Several relatives stood around, mostly smoking tobacco. One said to him “ Look at this; you ought to live a very different life after this !” He turned deadly pale, went home, and sickened immediately. Edmund L-- died at 6; with him the last hour; several times yesterday, and in the night, the Eve of S. Bartholomew. One small room only, and few bedclothes. The wife with child, distracted with grief, trying to cheer up the husband, who was at times almost furious from pain, and appeared to make efforts to repel attentions. He could not speak; pointed to me the parts of the legs I was to rub, raised his body in the bed, and turned his eyes on me for some purpose, but fell back again, rolled and tossed among the bedclothes and clouts. The eyes were sunk, with congested appearance. In great agony all the last eighteen hours. It lasted in all twenty-two. Half an hour before death, the tongue warm - cold yesterday. Blueness worse at an earlier stage. The approach of death seemed to stop pain. The man suddenly opened bis eyes, and looked me full in the face, then gave three or four gasps, and expired. A sboemaker, S-, his son recovering from cholera—the father taken-sleeps in the same room. Dropped into the house accidentally and found this, which had just commenced. The spasmodic sickness very violent. At the same time

cramp in the diaphragm. The sight and sound dreadful. The medical man gave this account of it. Vomiting strained, and cramp as unnaturally contracted the diaphragm at the same moment. This was 7 or 8; he died about 11. Spinkes, a widow with two sons, one married. The unmarried son taken with cholera. No doctor could be got. Mrs. S. found me, and we went to him, physicked him, and left him doing well. A medical man, not the one appointed, looked in, and confirmed the treatment; at a later hour the right one came, much annoyed at the interference, and wben he left, said there was no chance for him.

• After a time the married son's wife sickened and died. Found this on my return from other places accidentally. Ellen, the daughter, 11 years old, was laid on a bed upon a table in the room below; she was dying, and scarce time to say the office over her; we took her up stairs after it was NO. LXVII.-N.S.

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over, and laid her beside the mother. Next day both were taken away and buried; and the same night the grandmother and her son, the father, slept on Ellen's bed, which had been aired and cleaned. Accordingly about 1.30 A.M. I was summoned by the watchman; both mother and son ill; no one to wait on them; afterwards a passer-by helped to rub the legs of the son.

Sent the watchman and went myself for the doctor; about 7 he came; got an order for the hospital for the two sons; the one first ill being still alive, and lying on several chairs, shaven and out of his mind. Got the fever coach about 8; the neighbours stood round in a ring, but no one would assist them in; at last half-led, half-carried them in blankets. The mother recovered for the time, and a nurse was obtained for her from the Board of Works. A day passed. In the night, about 2 or 3 A.M. she was taken, this time with Asiatic cholera; admitted to the hospital. Saw them there afterwards. The little girl's father was dead, the old mother dying, the others on completely mad, and dying. Went in to see the mother; she sat up with difficulty on seeing me, signed the cross, tried to speak but could not, fell back writhing with pain. So a whole family, except a married daughter at a distance, swept away, as if they had never been.'--Private Journal.

Again :

* Two girls taken in C- street, the father and mother both died the same day. Another case sad enough, the Copelands in RD-court. The son-in-law lived with the family. Three beds lay in a row. That of the son-in-law in the middle, two daughters on the left, the father and mother on the right, in the little upstairs room. The son-in-law already ill; at 11 at night, the mother-in-law on his left, and the sister-in-law on his right, both taken; were physicked and appeared to do well; at 7 next morning they were in their last collapse. The married one also seized, got her up and to another house; her husband, thongh ill, compelled to do so also ; that afternoon, mother and daughter both died within two hours of each other'-10.

In this way, within a few hours, the whole circumstances of families or individuals are turned to their very opposites. The husband single ; the child, out of sight of kindly face, or hearing of affectionate voice, passes to a training and will fulfil a lot, never dreamed of by child or parent. It will be the 'workhouse child ;' happy indeed, and beyond its own conception, should the doors of some charitable 'home, such as that at Devonport, or at S. Saviour's, Leeds, open to offer it the Church's partFather's, mother's, sister's, and brother's.'

We forbear to distress the reader by wearying extracts. However it is viewed, that must be a very solemn season in which the world is visited by its Creator and Judge, and is conscious of such visitation. A merry desperation, a gay infidelity under that hand is something drear and awful; suffering without religion wearies us even in the thought of it; yet the consciousness of a visitation from heaven saddens the spirit, pierces and crushes the heart, even while it has its tokens of mercy. After all, every judgment that falls upon this passing world before the final judgment, is a sentence passed and executed in mercy. Yet though so founded on love, how must we hold

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