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they had abandoned their avocation and
withdrawn from public affairs. They
had been led to this step from motives
of religion, for they desired some little
time for recollection and prayer now that
they were old and naturally verging to
the grave They gave alms in abund
ance and were unceasing in their efforts
:o assuage the sufferings of the poor and
enfeebled whom the pagans left in want
and destitution. The example which
they gave was not without its effect.
Many were eddied at their generous en
deavors in the cause of humanity and
of religion, and were brought to examine
with prejudice, those doctrines for
which before they entertained sentiments
of the greatest borrow.
Angela manifested from her most ten
der years a disposition to piety. At that
age when children think of nothing but
play, she was often found concealed in
some secret corner, with her little hands
joined in prayer and the silken lashes of
her bright blue eyes uplifted with a
1 )ok of sweetness and love. The Cru
cifix was her delight and often she knelt
before it and poured out the deepest ef
fusions of her soul.
When she was twelve years old, her
parents came suddenly upon her when
she was praying and absorbed with re
flections on Heaven. Her form appear
ed to them to have an extraordinary
brilliancy, as if illumined by the rays of
the noonday sun. Her features had as
sumed an angelic look and from her lips
escaped at intervals, sweet accents of
love. She seemed as if she was conver
sing face to face, with the beloved whom
she adored, and as she kept pressing her
hand upon her heart to suppress its vio
lent movements, she would eagerly lis
ten as if the ministering spirits were
bringing her communications from on
high' There was nothing rash or unre
fined in her character, but on the con-
trary an air of calmness and sweetness
accompanied all her movements. She
was ever the same. The different in
fluences which were brought to bear up
on her mind did not disturb its equani
mity; it was like a pathway that was
smooth and even, without any inequali
ties to cause the feet to stumble. She
possessed a strange, mysterious power of
attraction. All around her left the
charm of her society and there was none
that could leave her without experiencing
the deepest feelings of regret. She
would speak to her young companions
and her subject was always about the
virtues of the faith, Many who felt a
repugnance before in contemplating
points of such an elevated nature, feit
pleasure in them as they were discussed
by lips so pure as hers. They would
leave aside their levity for the moment
to sit by her side, and all around were
visible the sparkling eyes and gestures
of anxious expectation. And how could
it be otherwise ? We are naturally wise
when reposing under the shadow of
wisdom itself.
Angela entertained a horror for any
thing like deception. Her lips were un
sullied by any fault of this kind. Though
but a child, she was frank and open and
would readily admit whatever she had
done. Her parents were for her ia the
place of God, and she obeyed them with
simplicity and joy. She had read in the
Gospel how Jesus, when an infant, was
subject to Joseph and Mary, and these
words had made such a vivid impression
upon her young mind, that she resolved
to cultivate, in a particular manner, the
virtue of obedience. The events of her
after life show that she kept her sacred
promise.
She desired to consecrate her virgin
ity to God and for this reason spoke to
the Bishop. She presented her request
with such unction and fervor, and ex
pressed in such ardent terms what hap
piness she would experience in becoming
the affianced of Christ, that the Holy
Bishop thought that the Lord had. in
deed spoken by her lips and that he had
visibly marked her with his seal as a
sign of her being predestined to this al
liance. She was admitted as a postulant
according to the customs of that age.
Angela withdrew into solitude and never
issued forth ram tier close retreat unless
to assist at the celebration of the Sacred
Mysteries. She was like the happy con
templative of Bethania. Her prayers
were not the elevation of the mind to
wards an invisible God, so much, as fa
miliar interviews such as if the object ol
her thoughts had taken before her a real
r.nd tangible form. She would remain
.or hours together, upon her knees, with
her hands stretched ont towards the
image ol Christ, her lips half opened, and
upon them a smile of indescribable
sweetness displaying the exctatic ravish
ments of her loving heart.
The days of her noviciate had passed
and she now looked forward to the time
when she would be enabled to realise
her most ardent wishes—her consecra
tion to God.
She was kneeling before the Bishop
while a choir of A irgins stood around
chanting appropriate hymns and making
the Church resound with sweet peals of
music. Rufina was there among the
rest. Marcella, a noble patrician of
Carthage, was chosen, together with
Rufina, to act the part of witnesses. The
assembly was numerous. All who knew
Angela, desired to be present at the
ceremony, in order to show their ap
preciation of her modesty and good be
havior. She was to retire from their
midst, and it was a duty incumbent up
on every one to pay this last tribute to
one, who, while amongst them had so
well fulfilled the duties of a Christian
life. Julia likewise attended, accom
panied with her daughter Yivia.
The altar was decorated with the rich
est kind of ornaments. It seemed as if
it were one of the great feast-days of the
year. A linen cloth of extreme white
ness was spread over the sacred stone
and fell on either sides in graceful folds
to the ground. It was edged with a
fringe of the most exquisite and elabo
rate embroidery upon which were de
signed the memorials of the passion.
Bouquets of flowers, the fragrance of
which filled the air around, were artist
ically arranged in vases of alabaster
placed between the candlesticks on
either side of the tabernacle. The
Sanctuary was covered with a carpet of
rich and elegant workmanship, qpd to the
right and left were deposed statues of
the Apostles resting upon pedestals
sculptured with the most eminent skill,
and representing in relief the principal
events of their respective lives. Chand
eliers hung from the ceiling, each con
taining seveial lights, and gorgeous
lamps of gold and silver, the gifts of the
noble Christian families, hung around
the altar as the symbol of Faith, as
well as of homage to the Sacrament of
love that reposed so humbly beneath
the veils of its earthly tabernacle. There
was profound and universal silence. It
was like the moment of the elevation of
the Sacred Host, so great was the at
tention of all minds upon the solemn
event which was about to take place.
Optalius, the Bishop, rises from his
throne. The mitre is placed on his head
and he holds his crosier as the sign of
his spiritual authority. In a few words
he refers to the sublimity of that holy
virtue of purity, that in a body which is
perishable and subject to the humiliating
law of sin, it elevates man and assimu
lates him to the innocence of the Angels;
tlnat this virtue must be precious, when
the Mother of God esteemed it above the
sublime prerogatives of her divine ma
ternity; that Christ had paid it a tribute
of excellence, when in his incarnation,
when he suspended a lav; of nature in
order to be born of a Virgin; that he
prised this virtue in St. John, called him
his beloved disciple and allowed him to
lean upon his breast because lie was
pure.”
“This vocation/’ he continued, “pro
ceeds friends, exclusively from the will
of Gocl. The creature has no right to
his election. The vocation for a life of
continence is the highest to which he can
aspire but at the same time it imposes
the most serious and important duties
and demands the exercise of the most
eminent virtues. The Christian Virgin
ought to love retirement, avoid the
world and its seductions and meditate
without ceasing upon the law of the
Lord. She must guard and nourish
with the most assidous care the tender
flower of her innocence and thus at the
close of life present to God the lily as
a symbol of her right to enter among the
followers of the Lamb.”
The saintly Pontiff finished and giv
ing his mitre and crosier to his attend
ants, he turned round aud knelt before
the altar. The sweet plaintive melody
of a canticle, such as is sung before the
throne of God, resounded through the
Church, aud bore aloft like incense in
his sight, the fervent aspirations of the
pious crowd.
When the hymn was finished, Angela
knelt before the Bishop who had now oc
cupied his seat on the left of the Sanct
uary.
“What demandest thou, Angela?”
asked the Bishop in the terms of the
formula.
“My Father,” she replied, with her
eyes modestly cast down and her hands
crossed upon her breast, “My Father, it
lam not unworthy, I would ask the
veil of Consecration, and take my rank
from to-day among the chaste followers
of Christ.”
“Thy piety is known to me ; thy vir
tues form the happiness of thy parents
aud edify the Church of Carthage, but
the favor which thou asked is one that is
great indeed. The duties of a Virgin
are, as I have told you, serious and im
portant. Hast thou seriously reflected
upon this before God ?”
“What conclusion could I, the last of
the servants of the Lord, form unless he
had designed to enlighten me from
o o
•MHHSS ©I SH SOOTE.
As the youthful virgin spoke, her
countenance assumed a brilliant appear
ance, and a look of heavenly joy beam
ed from sparkling eyes, A tear coursed
down the cheeks of the Venerable Pon
tiff, and he endeavored to reply but
emotion choked his utterance. At
length he said, “My child, let it be
done according to their desire. Christ
receives you as his spouse and the Church
of Carthage admits you amongst the
number of its virgins.”
Angela retained her usual serenity
and quiet composure. There was how
ever, a mysterious tenderness in her
sweet face as if she was again in close
and personal interview with Christ,
whom she called her “beloved.” Accents
of love and gratitude fell from her lips,
and her hands, pressed convulsively upon
her heart indicated that she was afraid
of yielding to the violence of those di
vine impressions.
The ceremony went on, Rufina and
Marcella assisting. Angela remained
motionless and absorbed in a peaceful
oxetasy, and perhaps she did not feel
the trembling hand of the Pontiff as he
impressed upon her brow the sign of the
Cross before covering her with the veil
which was the symbol of her solemn cen
sed ation.
She then arose and ascended the steps
of the altar and laid her head for some
time upon the altar stone before the ta
bernacle. This was to signify that the
sacrifice which she was making to the
Lord, was made spontaneously on her
part. She then took a crown of flowers
which her companions had prepared and
held them elevated for some time like
wise as an offering to her beloved. That
part of the ceremony was finished and
she accordingly descended from the al
tar giving her hand to kiss, to the num
bers that pressed around her, at the same
time that the enclosure rang with the
canticle of thanksgiving.
The sacrifice of the Mass now com
menced and during this period Angela
retired to her former place, and the
equanimity, the steady even aspect of her
features during this moving ceremony
would lead one to suppose that she was
supported throughout by her Guardian
Angels or that her beloved had come es
pecially co her aid. When the deacon
turned round and announced to the
Catechumens that the Mass was finished
and that the people should retire, a
young woman bathed in tears and hold
ing an infant in her arms, rushed for
ward and threw herself at the knees of
Angela. Her emotion was too great to
speak but from her convulsive lips were
audible the words “pray for me.” It
was Vivia. The consecration of a noble
young lady to the service of God was
indeed a touching spectacle, nor was its
effect lost upon her mind so susceptible
of vivid impressions. Angela embraced
her and imprinted on her brow the kiss
of peace. “Courage Vivia,” she said,
in a half whisper, “a rich crown is re
served for thee too, bought at the price of
thy blood.” A ivia started at the proph
ecy. [to be continued.]
above? From my twelvethyear I have
sighed continually for the grace which I
now implore of your hands.”
“The world, my child presents noth
ing but danger to a young and tender
heart. ‘The spirit is willing but the
flesh is weak.’ The Church, which is
just passing from its embryo state to the
beauty of a fragrant blossom, enjoys the
benefit of tranquility and peace. But
the tempest, may rise at any moment.
Art thou strong enough to take that
veil which covers thy hood, and bath it
in thy blood? Art thou strong enough
to confess the faith before the armed
emissaries of the law and obtain the
palm of martyrdom ?”
“My Father, of myself I can do noth
ing, but I can do all things with the
the grace of God. My heart beats with
an ardent love fur my Divine spouse and
I long to be united to him in the eternal
bonds of virginal continence consecrated
by a solemn vow. I feel that I could
withstand the terrors of death in the
service of Him who has robbed death o r
its sting by giving victory to the grave.
Yes ! My Father, I fetfl that I can steep
this sacred veil in my blood, in the same
manner as Potamiena did lately at
Alexandria.”
Death of tiie Bishop of St. John’s,
Newfoundland —AVe regret to hear of
the death of the Rt Rev. John T. Mul
lock, O. S. F., Bishop of St. John’s,
Newfoundland. Bishop Mullock for
nearly twenty years has governed the
Diocese of St. John s with signal zeal
and ability, previous to his consecra
tion as Rishop, he was an earnest and
successful Missionary Priest, in Ireland
and in Scotland. As Bishop his in
fluence over the people ot Newfound
land was almost unbounded. At his de
sire the Diocese of Harbor Grace was
erected out of what was before part of
his own Diocese. Beq. in pace.
FOREIGN AND HOME FASHIONS
THE PREVAILING STYLES.
Everything which hangs softly and
gracefully, such as merinoes, muslin, de
laine, etc., is very fashionable, and is
being employed most freely in the com
position for costume for the ensuing sea
son. The dress consists, in all instan
ces, of two skirts, of distinctly different
materials—the under one generally of
striped satin or velvet, the upper one ot
cloth or merino. AVith these we have a
small fitting jacket of either velvet or
cloth, with collar and revers of quilted
satin. In most cases the dresses arc ar
ranged en bouffant about the waist, and
the panier, disposed in many graceful
ways, still holds its own, as an accessory
to the promenade toilette. For visiting
and home dress, trains continue to be in
fashion.— La, Beau Monde.
BALI, DRESSES
In the ball room, as well as at the
promenade, we see costumes not plain
dresses, worn by all ladies of fashion. A
lady studies costume as much as if she
had to appear in some historical play up
on the stage. .AH must be style—the
head-dress as well as the robes, the
chaussure, as well as the fashion of the
skirts. At present, the fashion of carry
ing t!*e train upon the arm lias not be
come as general as we imagined it
would. Ladies who dance have prefer
red adopting the skirts that just touch
the ground, and ladies ; who do not dance
have allowed their long trains to sweep
upon the floor in sublime disregard of
the tearing and soiling of exquisite lace
and elaborate trimmings All ball
dresses are rather high in the shoulders,
but very low in front, and at the back so
much so, indeed, as to render alacetrim
ing or low chemisette inside quite neces
sary—English Womans ( London)
Magazine.
PARIS NOVELTIES.
The confections which are prepared
for the Spring are almost arranged; it is
strongly affirmed that those which are
different from the dress will not be worn.
Only in calling this dress a skirt, in de
signating the confection by the words
second dress, it can bo made in heavy
black silk and warn with ail skirts, with
old dresses. Those old fashioned dress
es which have been entirely cut in points,
and which have been made with a train,
can be used by adopting this fashion.
They should bo out in such a manner
that their length will just clear the aukle;
they should be trimmed, if they can,
with one or two flounces, or a ruche for
which the material will be found in the
pieces remaining from the original dress.
With this dress a confection will be
worn in black silk or black cashmere; or
better still a high-necked corsage of
black taffeta trimmed with bretelles or a
berthe. For a lady, the bretelles and
berthe should be made on black lace or
guipure; aud a tunic or a puff - in black
taffeta should be added. The high
necked corsage aud the tunic take the
place of a pardessus, and can be worn
with all silk dresses, principally with
those in stripes; for stripes are more
than ever the fashion, and for under
dresses will be worn almost exclusively.
The fashion of dresses caught up and
draped over a different skirt has brought
back, by an unexpected turn, a confec
tion different from the dress. For this
reason, cassocks of black silk will be
worn, and it is very sure that a much
larger number of them will be seen than
during the last year. As to the paletots
like the dresses, many of them will be
seen, among others those of preceding
years which it will be necessary to wear
unduse; but very lew new ones will be
made. If they are used, the form will
not be entirely abandoned; only they
will be banished among the classic par
dessus, which will be worn with ordinary
toilettes when a warm garment is needed.
All the new toilettes will be made of a
large cassock trimmed, made in heavy
black silk and worn with all kinds of
skirts; or as well, made in foulard, in
poplin, in linos, in cashmere, in taffeta,
in challes, in every fancy tissue, and
placed over a skirt matched or well
chosen for tint and adaptation sufficient
ly neutral to harmonize with several of
these cassocks.— La Mode lilustree.
NEW YORK COSTUMES —THE NEWEST
THING.
AVe imagined that we had every style
of costume that could be need and to
meet the wants or whims of the feminine
community —that fashion could no fur
ther go—but we were mistaken. “Con
firmation costumes” have been added to
the list. They are made of Swiss mus
lin and organdie. The high waist and
long sleeves are trimmed with fiat fluted
frills without lace. The short veil is of
the muslin of the dress or of tulle, fasten
ed with knots of ribbon. Sometimes
pretty little round capes of muslin are
worn. The belt andysash are of white
gros grain ribbon.
We are aware that in some parts of
Europe certain dresses are worn at con
firmation —but these dresses are not
dictated by fashion. They were chosen
for their especial fitness and simplicity
and remain what they were a hundred
years ago. Time and custom have made
them a part of the ceremony. But what
will those Bishops, who have refused to
lay their hands at confirmation upon the
chignons and piles of false hair, say to
the confirmation toilette? Asa matter
of taste, the Bishops are right in their
view of the hair question—but the chio*.
nons, the curls and the frizzes are worn
every day, and might be passed over on
such an occasion, as an offence against
good taste, rather than as an especial af
front to the Gospel. But confirmation
costumes, gotten up and arranged by
fashion, can only be worn by those who
have no appreciation of the sacred rite.
SUITS AND PRESSES;
A pale amber-colored skirt of goat’s
hair, with a purple satin stripe,is amon«
the latest styles on exhibition. It has an
t overskirt of plain amber, looped with
purple satin bows. To the striped under
waist is attached the sleeves; a sacque of
plain color is trimmed with a pipiu«* 0 f
purple satin.
A striped changeable silk of maroon
and gold, has the first skirt trimmed with
a box-plaited flounce, bound top and bot
tom with green satin, headed by piping
The second skirt has an apron-front trim
med with fringe. Bias Lauds, bound
with green satin, decorated at the bot
tom with a stylish bow, divide the apron
from the side breadths. The back
breadth is caught up through the centre
by 7 a similar band, with bow. A mantle
which crosses in front, like the Marie
Antoinette Fichu, but which descends to
considerable depth over the arms, is
trimmed with satin and fringe. *lt is
gathered at the back, and is ornamented
with a handsome leaf-shaped rosette.
The price of this suit is SOO.
A black silk called the “duchess” is
extremely elegant. This dress has one
skirt, plain in front, with a train about
five-eighths in length. The panier which
is cut in the skirt is formed by wide
plaits in the side breadths, descending
nearly half a yard in depth. The jack
et, which is trimmed witii a short heavy
fringe, resembling plush, is open in front,
displaying a purple satin vest. The same
trimming ornaments die sleeves. A belt
with a double bow and short ends trim
med with fringe completes the costume.
Courier's Salon, Street and Shop.
•
EASTER SUNDAY IN THE FAR WEST-
St. Louis, April 3, 18G9.
Editor Bjn ner of the So uth :
I send you herewith extracts from a
private letter received in this city, fr
a gentleman living at Manhattan. Kan
sas. It may prove interesting to ymr
readers to know how the great Cata■•lie
Festival was celebrated in those far
AVestern regions, and to know further
that the grand old Church is marching
on :
M***, Kansas, March 29, ‘O9.
* * I would have written you yester
day (Easter Sunday,) but lor n:y fatigue
after a2O mile ride, 17 of which were
made farting. The weather during
Holy A\ T eek was so unsettled that I fear
ed I should be debarred the happiness
of communicating or even of hearing
Mass, as I was on Christmas. But, not
withstanding a most rain-foreboding
Saturday, the morning of Easter broke
as triumphantly as the glorious festival
could have desired. 1 had felt so anx
ious about it all the week, that I cannot
describe my sensations on awaking, to
witness so brilliant a sun-rise.
I started about 7.30 and after passing
over three miles (to Uncle Tubys,
reached a country which I had not yet
seen. His place is in the “Elbow Creek
valley. I thence passed over a range of
hills, thro’ which small valleys were
scattered, with an occasional settlement
for some 5 miles, when 1 reached flees
Creek” valley, or a “Fader-land' settle
ment of Germans; and, a beautiful tue
of country it is. The hills I had co y
like all the rest in this county ary
and rocky on and near the summits-yu.
the valleys and all the immenm
grounds are rich and fertile. VaiOy
the grass has been burnt oft during y
AVinter, making the hills !o k ny :r> »
barren, and desolate, though already
7 7 T » iopj)
young, green sprigs of gras< '--.n •-*>
sprouting, and in a few wees - U3.cc
prairie fires will have disappeared.
“Rock Creek” is a stream ot -, ! y
length, though not very w: ,l « y
several small tributaries and [ 4 y‘yy
streams have fostered the growth 0 y
of timber, an object which win •
attract settlers in this prairie r "VNy
I travelled about two miles thrown
valley, and found the lands U x ' h j
the timber large and of fine q l |jyV, ‘‘‘j
the water in tue creeks clear, lmfi 1 •
soft. The settlers, mostly German-,