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2 your fidelity to him. Do you all righly understand this?’ 7 “Will your Majesty permit me to speak ?’ 7 said Reginald. ‘ “Speak on,” replied the King. “We all fully understand the risk, and yet” —Regie knelt at the feet of Mon mouth, and lifted his hand to his lips— “and, yet, behold—Our future King !” “Our future King!” repeated Ormand, also kneeling. “Not at my feet, Ormand,” exclaimed Monmouth, embracing Ormand, “not at my feet; from this moment you are my friend and brother.” “Deign to accept my oath of fidelity, my lord,” said Marmaduke, “and, if not so hastily given as my brothers, believe it none the less siucere'” “I trust you,” said Monmouth, warmly grasping his hand; “to you three, I trust my life and my crown.” “And I, my lord/’ said Emily ‘‘can I do nothing ?” “Forgive me,” said Monmouth, bending his knee before her, “If I have appeared to slight you, I crave your forgiviness, dare I ask you to risk your fair young life for a perfect stanger ?” “Rise, my lord,” exclaimed Emily, “and do not speak of my life, when, on this venture, are hazarded lives, far more precious to me than my own. But, tell me, do you not despise my efforts ? do you not think that, because I am a wo man, lam powerless?” “By my faith, if he dues, he is much mistaken!” exclaimed Marmaduke, re gardless of etiquette, and speaking im petuously, “My son!” said the old Earl, reprov iugty- “lt is nothing,” said the King, kindly, “he is right, for you have told mo that ’twas she who rescued Ormand from a living death; I only ask that she will use the same wit and energy in serving my son.” “Our future King !” repeated Emily solemnly ; but when she would have knelt at his feet, he prevented her doing so, and pressed a resepetful kiss upon her brow. ‘ One word more,” said the King, drawing a sealed packet from his bosom; “to-night you say farewell to Monmouth for a long time ; to-morrow I will attend to your private matters; in the future we know not what awaits us; therefore, my Lord of Sutherland, I beg you to take charge of this paper ; in it you will find the real secret of the sale of Dunkirk, and the treaty at Dover. It is written and signed by Louis XIV, of France ; he pledges himself to give Monmouth all se cret aid possible, whenever called upon to do so. Take charge of it, then, and I hope that, in your hands, it may be of use to my son. And now, give roe your hands, my friends ; to-night Charles Stuart, the father of Monmouth, takes his leave of you ; to-morrow King Charles will meet you. “In private, Charles Stuart. “In public, King Charles. “Under all circumstances your friend.” And they parted. When Monmouth took leave of his fa ther, he lifted the tapestry, opened a se cret door, and glided, with stealthy steps, along a narrow passage, until his farther progress was stopped by another secret door. lie paused here for a few mo ments, listening intently, but not hearing anything, cautiously unclosed the door, and entered the room. This apartment was luxuriously furnished, but not the rich furniture, nor yet the rare and costly nick-nacks attracted Monmouth’s atten tion. Upon a low couch, near a window, lay the form of a young girl. She was sleeping, but deep drawn sighs betrayed the troubled thoughts that haunted her mind, even in sleep. Her eyelids were red and swollen, traces of tears staiued her fair cheek, and the gossamer hand kerchief, that lay on her bosom, was still damp. This young girl was Mary, eldest daughter of the Duke of York, and but lately betrothed to William of Orange Softly, Monmouth crept to her side, and gazed, with agitated looks, upon the sad features, then, lifting her hand, pressed it gently to his lips. With a start she awoke, and, looking up at Monmouth, exclaimed : “I knew you would come once more !” “I am risking much to see you for a few moments,” answered Monmouth, seating himself at her side, “but I knew you would be looking for me, and my own desire to tell you farewell was irresistible. I have but a few moments to stay, and then I must say farewell.” “And for how long ?” asked Mary, weeping. “I know not,” replied Monmouth, sadly; “You must know of my ill success in aims, and that my sentence is perpetual exile!” •‘Alas! I know it all, only too well,” replied Mary ; “but, surely, your father, if he feels merciful, is powerful enough o show mercy.” “He has shown mercy,” said Mon mouth; “for, while many of my faithful friends have lost their lives, I am only banished.” “Oh! cruel mercy !”cried Mary; “my uncle has no heart; he is not merciful.” “Say not so, dear Mary,” replied Mon mouth, soothingly; “he is the kindest of fathers; and, believe me, it is his earnest wish that 1 should wear his crown.” “Then, why does he not give it to you ?” asked Mary. “He dare not,” answered Monmouth; “he would certainly lose it himself, and I would hardly gain it. You forget, darling, that soon after he was crowned, he married the Princess Catherine, of Portugal. To acknowledge me as legiti mate would be to declare his marriage with Catherine illegal, and that would involve England in endless war. Do my father justice, Mary and have patience; most certainly, all will yet be well.” “But, meanwhile, we are separated,” said Mary, “and if you leave me, they will force me to marry the Prince of Or ange.” “Oh! fool that I am, to have lost sight of that calamity, for a single instant,” exclaimed Monmouth, throwing himself at the feet of Mary; “promise me, dear est, that nothing shall wrest you from me.” “Oh! you know the cruel necessity that forces me away from you ! my father is determined that this marriage shall take place; the King has given his con sent, and what can I du ? Were you King of England, James, how different would all this be? 7 “Oh! Mary!” exclaimed Monmouth, “you side with them; the glory of a crown tempts you ; you have already de serted me!” ‘Notso!” answered Mary, throwing her arms around his neck; “I solemnly promise you, Monmouth, that if they force me to be his wife, it shall be only in name, for I can never love him!” “I accept your promise,” said Mon mouth, rising to his feet, “and swear eter nal fidelity to you ! Cheer up, darling, I have friends, and hope yet to rescue you from the arms of William of Orange. You know not the deep love that fills my heart for you, and it is almost death to part,” “Then do not let us part,” said Mary ; “surely your father can conceal \cu in the palace.” “But that would be a living death,” ob jected Monmouth; “no, rather let us part for a while, that, when we meet again, we may hope never to part again on earth.” And, kneeling at her feet, while her warm tears fell on his upturned brow, he bade her farewell. [to be continued.] What Dissenters Owe to Catholics. —Writing in the Reformer , the new Liberal journal in Edinburgh, Mr J. A. Mowatt says, in Saturday’s issue: “Per haps Scotch readers will be astonished to learn that every liberty which Presbyte rians, Methodists, Baptists, and Inde pendents have obtained in Ireland has been wrung from the State Church party by the advocacy of Roman Catholics in and out of Parliament. About thirty-five years ago the Law Church authorities de cided that Presbyterian and Dissenting marriages in Ireland were ail illegal, and the offspring of such marriages illegiti mate. The Roman Catholics took up the question with the Dissenters and fought their battles, and Daniel O’Connell, in the House of Commons, was the great advo cate of the Presbyterian cause, when a law was passed legalising Presbyterian marriages, and making the Act retro spective also. Now, when the burial question has just been before Parliament, Major Monsell, a Roman Catholic, lias been the champion of Presbyterians an all Irish Nonconformists. Is it not a shame for the Presbyterians of Ulster to be misrepresented in Parliament by Hight Church Tories?” Mr. Bright on the Catholic Church. —Mr. Bright’s address has been pub lished. With reference to the Irish Church, he says: “In dealing with the Irish Establishment, we are not promoting the spread of the Roman Catholic, or damaging the influence of the Protestant religion. We don’t touch religion at all; we deal with the political institution which has wholly failed to secure any good object, and which has succeeded only in weakening the loyalty and offending the seuse of justice of the great majority of the Irish people. Our opponents speak of their zeal for Protestantism and their loyalty to the Constitution. I pre fer a Protestantism which is an alliance with Christian kindness and with justice, and my loyalty to the Constitution leads me to wish for the hearty union of the three Kingdoms in allegiance to the Crown. 1 believe that Christianity and the Constitution will be alike ened in these islands by the removal of the Irish Church Establishment. From the Dublin Nation. Cleburne, llow far and fast the Autumn blast Bears the dead leaves o’er the ground; As fast and far has the hand of war Strew’dour country’s brave around; And their nameless graves are the ocean’s caves, The forest and mountain glen, Where the vulture screams as the angry streams Are hiding the bones of men; And wbat anguished cries from the South For the brave ones fallen in vain 1 While the victor North rings paeans forth, And exults in her broad domain. As tho lire suppress’d in Vesuvius’ breast. The latent fires oi' crime In the human frame pulse on the same. Till fanned by the storms of time; As the lava fold swept uncontroll’d, Where Pompeii’s glories sho^. So the wakened rage of a VandiPage, When Freedom is overthrow*! And we’ll look in tears, through long, long years, From the brightness shrouded o’er, But the golden rays of her halcyon days Shall return to the land no more. i Then fling the horde their base award, Their chief hit triumphal crown; Place vile deceit in the judgment seat, Where honor is trampled down; Give a paltry bribe io the hired scribe, To the venal bard his fee; But him who draws, in a righteous cause, A freeman’s sword, give me! Though his bones should bleach on the sea-washed beach, Though his gravo be the lowly mound, His name shall chime through the halls of Time, And swell through the deep profound. Ye brave, en masse, who fall, and pass To the leaden halls of death,, There are palni3 for the few, bui, alas! for you, Not a leaf from tho victor’s wreath ! But I sing of one whose glory shone Like a meteor bright and grand, W T ho gave his name to the trump of fame, And his blood to a generous band; The festive toast, the soldier’s boast, The type of a martial ago! The foe of wrong, the soul of song, And the light of a future page! The base grow bold for power and gold, The vain through fear of scorn; , The good wax strong in their hate of wrong; But ho was a warrior born. From his eagle glance and stern “Advance!” And his action, swift as thought, The rank and file, from his own fair isle, Their courage electric caught, As the whirlwind’s path shows its fiery wrath, Through the lordliest forest pines, So the deepest wave of the fallen brave, Told where Cleburne crossed their lines. On Richmond's plain his captie train Outnumber’d the host he led! And he won his stars on the field of Mars, Where he conquer’d, thoxigh he bled! ’Twas his to cope while a ray pf hope Illumed his flag; and then, ’Twas his to die, while that flag flew high, In the van of chivalric men. Nor a braver host could Erin boast, Nor than he a more gallant knight, Since the peeiless Hugh crossed the Avan dhu, And put Bagnal’s hosts aflight. There were eyes afar that watched your star, As it rose with the “Southern Cross;” There were hearts that bled when its course was sped, And old Ireland felt your loss! While her flowers shall blow, or her waters flow, Through Shannon, Suir, and Lee, The patriot’s song shall roll along Their winding waves for thee! And they’ll tell with pride how Cleburne died, In the land of the “free and brave;” How his sword of might was a beam of light, Though it led to an exile’s gravo. LETTER OF DR, NEWMAN ON ANGLI CAN ORDERS. . We here produce the late famous letter of Dr. Newman, on Holy Orders in the Established Church in England. We find it in the London Month for August: The Oratory, ) Birmingham, Aug. 5, 1868. $ My Dear Father Coleridge : You ask me what I precisely mean, in my Apologia , Appendix, p. 26, by say ing, apropos of Anglican Orders, that “Antiquarian arguments are altogether unequal to the urgency visible facts.” I will try to explain ; f I. T 1 ic inquiry into Anglican Orders ever have been to me of the class which I must call dreary; for, it is dreary, surely, to have to grope into the minute, intricate passages and obscure corners of past occurrences, in order to ascertain whether this man was ever consecrated, or that man used a vali form, or a cer tain sacramental intent .a came up to the mark, or the report or register of an ecclesiastical act can be cleared of suspi cion. On giving myself to consider the question. 1 have never been able to arrive at anything higher than a probable con clusion, which is most unsatisfactory, except to Antiquarians, who delight in researches into the past, for their own sake. 11. Now, on the othc • hand, what do I mean by “visible facts I mean such definite facts as throw a broad antecedent light upon what may be presumed, in a case in which sufficient evidence is not forthcoming. For instance— (l.) The Apostolic Succession, its necessity, and its grace, fa not an Angli can tradition, though it fa a tradition found in the Anglican Church. By con- trast, our Lord’s divinity is an Anglican tradition—every one, high and low, holds. It is not only in the Prayer-Book and Catechism, but in the mouths of all professors of Anglicanism. Not to be lieve it, fa to be no Anglican, and in per sons in authority for three hundred years, who were expected to doubt or explaiu it away, were marked men, as Dr. Colenso is now marked. And they have been so few that they could be counted. Not such is the Apostolical Succession; and, considering the Church is the colamnaet firnianientum viriatis , and is ever bound to stir up the gift that is in her, there is surely a strong presumption that the Anglican body has not what it does not profess to have. I wonder ’now many of its Bishops and Deans hold the doctrine at this time; some who do not, occur to the mind at once. One knows what was the case, thirty or forty years ago, by the famous saying of Bloomfield, Bishop of London. (2.) If there is a true Succession, there is a true Eucharist; if there is not a true Eucharist, there is no true Succession. Now, what is the presumption here ? I think it fa Mr. Alexander Knox who says, or suggests, that, if so great a gift be given, it must have a custos. Who is the custos ot' the Anglican Eucharist? The Anglican Clergy ? Could I, without distressing or offending an Anglican, de scribe what sort of custodes they have been, and are, to their Eucharist ? “0 bone custos;’ in the words of the poet, “cm commendavi Filium Meum /” Is it not charitable towards the bulk of the Anglican Clergy, to hope, to believe, that so great a treasure has not been given to their keeping ? And would our Lord leave Himself, for centuries, in such hands ? Inasmuch, then, as “the Sacra ment of the Body and Blood of Christ” in the Anglican Communion is without pro tective ritual and jealous guardianship, there seems to me a strong presumption that neither the real gift, nor its appointed guardians, are to be found in that Com munion. (3 ) Previous Baptism is the condition of the valid administration of other Sacra ments. When I was in the Anglican Church, I saw enough of the lax adminis tration of Baptism, even among High Churchmen, though they did not, of course, intend it, to fill me with great un easiness. Os cc ur.se, there are definite persons, whom one might point out, whose Baptisms are sure to be valid. But my argument has nothing to do with present Baptisms. Bishops were baptized, not lately, but as children. The present Bishops were consecrated by other Bishops; they, again, by others. What I have seen in the Anglican Church, makes it very difficult for metofleny that, every now and then, a Bishop was a consecrator who had never been baptised. Some Bishops have been brought up in the North as Presbyterians; others, as Dissenters; others, as Low Churchmen ; others have been baptized in the careless perfunctory way, once so common; there is, then, much reason to believe that some Consecrators were not Bishops, fur the simple reason, that, formally speaking, they were not Christians. But, at least, there is a great presumption, that where, evidently, our Lord lias not left a rigid rule of Baptism, He has not left a valid Ordination. By the light of such presumptions as these, I interpret the doubtful issues of the Antiquarian argument, and feel deep ly that, if Anglican Orders are unsafe, with reference to the actual evidence producible for their validity, much more unsafe are they when considered in their surroundings. Most sincerely, yours, John 11. Newman. The meaning of Dr. Newman is, that no amount, even of antiquarian lore can prove validity, at any time, in Anglican Orders; that Orders in the Anglican Church are not even a proper tradition ; that it is an act of charity to suppose that the Anglican Ministers have no Or ders; and that the Sacrament of Baptism is, and has been, so much neglected, in the Anglican Church, that it is certain that a multitude of its Parsons and Bishops, in the past, and, at the present time, were not Christians. Harder, more dreadful facts, or misfortunes, than these, it is difficult to enumerate against a Church. We make a generous present of them to the Ritualists ; and we suggest to every Catholic to read and re-read the letter until he thoroughly comprehends it. — Philadelphia ( Cath .) Universe. Father Buchard 7 s Mission to Jackson ville, Oregon, has proved eminently suc cessful. The Rev. Father’s lectures on Catholicism, were attended by citizens of all denominations. The foundation stone of anew Catholic Church was laid in Virginia City, Neva da, on the 16th of August, Bishop O'Connell, Fathers Magill, Meagher, O’Leary, Manouge, and McNulty, par ticipating. DEATH OF TWO PRIESTS It fa our painful duty to record the de mise of two priests ot this diocese, oc curring within the past week, that of Rev. Edward Turpin, of Brookfield, and that of the Rev. Thomas Sheehan, of Harwich. Father Turpin died on the sth inst, in North Brookfield, and was buried, on tli Bth, in Fitchburg, where he had been pastor for several years, and where his brother was buried before him The Rev. P. F. Lynden, V. G., Rev. P. T. O’Rieily, of Worcester, Rev. William Orr, of Templeton, the Rev. Dennis O’Callaghan, of South Boston, together with the Rev. Cornelius M. Foley, Pastor of St Bernard’s Church, Fitchburg, at tended the funeral. The Rev. Thomas Sheehan died at his residence, in Harwich, on the night of Sept. Bth. The Rev. James Gr-ffin, Roxbury, and the Rev. L. S. McMahon, of New Bedford, as soon as the news of his death was telegraphed to them went down to Harwich to conduct the funeral. Knowing the wish of the deceased, that he should be buried in Holyhood Ceme tery, they, with the assistance of Rev. P. Bartoldi, of Sandwich, prepared the re mains for removal to Bostun. The body was carried to the Cathedral Chapel, and there, at 11 o’clock, on Thursday, the 10th inst., a solemn Mass of Requiem was sung, Rev. B. McFeely, Celebrant, Rev L. J. McMahon, Deacon, and Rev. W. J. J. Denver, Sub-deacon. ? The ob sequies at the bier were performed by the Very Rev. P. Lynden, V. G. There were, also, present on this occasion, Rev. William Bryne, Chancellor, Rev. Bernard O’Rielly, Rev. James Griffin, Rev. John Brenan, Rev. Hilary Tucker, Rev. W. J. Corcoran, Rev. P. Smyth, Rev. Nicholas O’Brien, and others. After the services at the Cathedral were finished, the re mains were taken to Holyhood Cemetery, and there deposited in the vault, the service at the tomb being read by Rev. James Griffin. Father S. was born in Skibbereen, Cos. Cork, and studied in Carlow College, where he was ordained. Before coming to Boston, he was on the Western mission. His age was years. He was much beloved by all wh knew him.— Bequiescant in pace. RELiGiOuTINTELLIGENGE- There are now seventeen negroes ic ing educated for Priests in one institution in Naples. W. 11. C. King, publisher and editor in-chief of the New Orleans Times, died on Thursday, 27th ult., at his summer residence at Pass Christian, after a long and severe illness. In the last days of his sickness, he embraced the Catholic Faith, was baptized, and before his death received the last Sacraments of the Church. The new Church in Worcester, Mass., is designed to be one of the mo&t imposing places of worship in Worcester. Its foundations have just been laid. It will be built of gray stone, and of the follow ing dimensions : 189 feet long, 90 wide, 111 feet from the ground to the ridge pole, and will have a spire *2OO feet, high, also of solid stone. Messrs. R Boydon & Son are the architects, and the interim fittings will be under the immediate su perintendance of Leander G. wester A neat little Church, near S!ieep>liead Bay, L. 1., with accommodations far 25 1 ) persons, was dedicated on Sunday, loth by the Right Rev. Bishop Loughhn, ot Brooklyn. The Pastor of the Church, the Rev. T. Mor,an,celebrated liigu M and Bishop Loughlin preached a : mon The Rev. Wm. Keegan, of the ( hurei: of the Assumption, Brooklyn, was [•res ent. The services throughout wre G an impressive and interesting character, and an audience of over four fa fan : gave their earnest attention. The new edifice is named The Church of Bt. Mark. Purchase of a Church.—We are glad to learn that New Hampshire ' uot behind the other States of the l m the progress of our holy religion, g have heard with pleasure that a -plenuu stone church has been lately b >ug! t U the Protestants of New Market, by hie Rev. Canon Walsh, pastor of Ex* far, N- H. The church formerly belonged fa the Congregational denomination, ayi in an excellent state of prc.vrvatr a- The pews are all well painted, and g* eral of them are covered with coniNrhio.e hair cushions. It is situated on a lofty position, and supplies a wan* ■ : - felt by the good Catholics of New Mar v We are also -glad to learn that fail* Walsh is building a fine, wooden church, for tbe good and ‘ j’ congregation of Rochester, N. M he expects to have completed by On l ' mas Day. When we add to the above inipuo'- y ments, the many temperance a: i ;i y gious societies established tlirou.: • ” his extensive mission, we must coma that his spiritual charge is in a ' flourishing condition. c *