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WAS IT A MIRACLE?
But to return. Among my friends I
kept profoundly silent on the subject of
my visit. But soon the whole household
began to notice that I no longer com
plained of my eyes, and that an inces
sant twitching of the facial muscles with
which I had been afflicted had disappear
ed.
“Why, you don’t wink your eyes any
more, and surely you must be better, for
I see you constantly reading or writing”
greeted rae*evory day.
Then I could keep my secret no longer
I told of my visit and the result. I did
not “nose thematterabroad,” but it be
- came noised about by my laughing skepti
cal, butgood-natured friends, who, how
ever, confessed “It was a circumstance
they could not explain ”
My physician—a Catholic—laughed
and said:
“It is a plain case of hysteria.”
I was radied about the circumstance
wuerever I went. One day the editor of
a leading New Yorkdaily told me he had
heard of the circumstance from a lady
friond of mine, and asked me to “write
it up” for his paper. At first I refused
to do so; but as he insisted, and I felt
that perhaps others might be benefited
by the publicity given the matter, I
“wrote it up.”
TESTIMONY OF THE FREEMAN’S JOURNAL.
It subjected me and my editor to grave
censure and ridicule from Mr. McMaster3.
of the Freeman's Journal. But while be
rebuked us, and instructed the public
through bis journal that “the Catholic
Church disapproved such unsatisfactory
narrations, as tending to superstition on
one hand, or exciting on the other the
spirit of scoffing,” he also added that
“very marvelous cures had been wrought
in the last few years by the relics of St.
Paul of the Cross in the hands of the
Passionists. In some cases the bedrid
den for years, and those inflicted with
diseases naturally incurable, had been
ready to testify to their supernatural
character.”
Now, I do not assert that the relief I
experienced was such a miracle as the
Catholic Church pronounces “supernatu
ral aud veritable” But one thing is
quite certain, if I am ever a sufferer
again I think I shall visit the Passionist
monastery, and supplicate a blessing and
cure from St. Paul of the Cross.
I have fr equently visited the monastery
since that, to no, eventful morning’ In
terest and curiosity have frequently led
me up the heights and across the fields
t i visit the barefoot friars. They always
give me a kind reception and all the in
formation I ask.
THE FOUNDER OF THE ORDER.
Their founder was a saint of the eigh
teenth century and was net canonized
until June 29, 1367. Paul Francis
Danei was a Genose of good birth and
pious Catholic training, who developed
early in life his marked proclivities for
the ascetic life. This spirit, nurtured by
education and association, ripened as
he grew older, and resulted in the pro
duction of one of those exalted devotio
nal characters which the Catholic
Church, in all ages and among all na
tions, loves to foster. Such souls and
minds she jealously guards and guides
until they develop into reformers, con
ducting their reforms under the sanction
and withiu the pale of the Church, either
by the foundation of anew Order or the
reformation of some old one by adapt
ing its ancient rule to the wants of the
age.
Had Luther remained within the pale
of the Church he would have been such
a reformer, and doubtless would have
been canonized in less than a century
after his death. But the gratification of
the master passion of his mind, sexual
love, forbade his seeking such a develop
ment of his genius. He decided that a
wife was the absolute necessity of man’s
nature because it was of his. There
fore, he defied the discipline of the
Church, and threw himself outside
her pale, hut still as a reformer
who clung to the essential points of her
crad.
Whenever a spirit so full of fiery ar
dor as Luther's can be retained within
the Church, the foundation of an Order
is the result. Ignatius Loyola was as
full of zeal fer reform as ever Luther
was.
Paul Francis Danei, a being of gent
ler mould than either, established his
Order mainly as a means of stemming
the tide of infidelity and immorality of
the eighteenth century, by exciting men
to a careful study and contemplation of
the mysterious agony and passion of
Jesus of Nazareth before his crucifixion.
Let us see with what success.
Before his death, in 1775, his Order
or Institute had been formally approved
by a bull from the reiguing Pope. Ills
o njreres were the most popular prea
chers of Italy, aud now the Order has
numerous houses in Naples, Piedmont,
Sardinia, Lombardy, along the coasts
of the Black Sea, in Bulgaria, Walla
chia and Roumania. Besides, it has
spread through France, Belgium and
Holland, and enteaed Protestant Eng
land.
THE PASSIONISTS IN AMERICA.
In 1858 the first Passionists landed
lri America. Now, the Order in the
I nited States has three houses. One at
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania; another at
Baltimore, Maryland; and the last at Ho
boken. This was founded by a small
brotherhood in 1863. This community
has increased to twelve Priests, six lay
brothers and twelve students. Their
popularity is attested by the work they
have accomplished. Their monastery of
gray granite, costing over SIOO,OOO, has
been built bjr the voluntary contributions
of American Catholics, who constantly
throng the monastery chapel and fre
quent its hospitable walls. The brother
hood brought with them from Italy
nothing but their poverty and ascetic
spirit. Their ascetism seems to pay.
No one who visits them would for an
instant doubt their austerity of life.
Their faces look hard and weather-beat
en, their hands bear the marks of toil,
and they show that they arc working as
well as praying men. Besides their
labors as Priests, in preaching, teaching,
writing, attending the sick and ad
ministering the sacraments of the
Church, these barefoot friars work with
their own hands as masons on the walls
of their new church, which adjoins the
monastery, and which, when completed,
will cost another SIOO,OOO. Then they
are most industrious housekeepers—for
no woman is permitted to pass beyond
their reception rooms or chapel. They
do their own cooking, washing, ironing,
tailoring and general housework; and
this housework is no small item, for they
give retreats to numerous pious Catholic
laymen and secular Priests, who come to
their cloister’s seclusion to renew, by
prayer and self examination, (heir spiri
tual strength and fit themselves for con
flict with the sinful world without.
The order has increased very rapidly
in numbers since it was introduced into
America. Many cultivated Americau
citizens of the highest social position
have joined its ranks. This seems
strange in a country like ours where
liberty is often regarded as a synenyme
for license, and where intense radicalism
bids fair to be the ruling political idea.
But when we examine the nature of
the monastic life our surprise ceases.
DEMOCRATIC GOVERNMENT OF RELIGIOUS
ORDERS.
Every religious order of the Roman
Catholic Church is a pure democracy in
government. The superiors and officers
are elected for a term of years, and their
power is limited by a code of laws by
which all are bound to live; and none of
those laws bear upon any nationality.
Men are found in all nations and in all
ages of the world in whom the worship
ing element is so strongly developed,
that no place is really so congenial to
their tastes as the shade of the cloister.
Here, secluded from the outer world,
they prefer to spend their lives in cul
tivating their interior, spiritual nature by
study, contemplation aud prayer or the
exercise of active charity.
These Hoboken friars attend the Hud
son County Almshouse, besides they are
constantly, in addition to their other du
ties, making missionary tours throughout
the country.
When seen on the street or out of their
monastery wall, they wear the usual dress
of a Catholic Priest, and save the badge
on their cloaks in winter, might be taken
for Episcopal clergymen. In this they
display the same admirable tact that is
exhibited by all the European Orders
that have been engrafted upon the soil of
America—a tact which readily adapts it
self to the age of the railway and steam
boat, the printing press and telegraph
wire, yet never forgets the ascetism
which makes them assemble six times
daily in the chapter room for devotional
exercises, and enables them to fast, and
abstain from flesh meat, three days in
every week throughout the year, and
perseveriagly to the end of their lives
practice such and similar acts of self
abnegation, as means of attaining that
personal sanctity to which they aspire.
TIIE COMMON SENSE OF THE NINETEENTH
CENTURY
protests against any interference with men
who choose to form an association or co
partnership to advance any lawful interest
of their own, and a religious order is
nothing more than such an association or
copartnership, bound together with the
solemnity of a religious vow, and in
pursuit of a spiritual rather than a ma
terial object. The blood rusted key of
the past is thrown aside, and Christian
asceticism engrafted upon American in-
©I ffgl Ml -
stitutions and growing upon American
soil, can never produce feudal and des
potic fruit, and Americans have common
sense enougli to know that fact, and act
upon it. Moreover, Americans have
practical common sense enough to know
that any object, charitable, religious or
educational, can be more economically
and effectively carried cut and accom
plished by single men and women, bound
together in community life, than by mar
ried people encumbered with the cares
of a family. - The practical encomical
utility of conventual and monastic life
recommends it to the practical American
mind, and this, perhaps, more than any
thing else outside of Providential causes,
accounts for the rapid increase of
monasteries and convents ia the United
States.
But it looks almost like a miracle to
see a bandful of barefooted Italian monks
land on our shores without a penny, and
in less than ten years build a church and
monastery in the outskirts of a small
Americau city, at a cost of two
hundred thousand dollars. And when
you become acquainted with these
monks you find them imbued with a
childlike faith in the religion they teach,
and a devotion to it equal to that which
animated the European Catholic of the
middle ages. They cling to faitli in
tilings which we Americans have been
educated to believe the superstitions of a
past age, aud by their pertinacity at
tract American men to their order and
help to manufacture and mould the pub
lic opinions of Americans. Verily,
monastic asceticism pays.
KATHY’S MUSIC BOX.
BY LOUISE DUPEE.
“Well,” said Kathy, trying to look
cheerful, “we’ve got a good lire, if we
haven’t got any supper, and that’s one
comfort, this freezing night.”
Mikey spread out his little blue hands
over the bright blace, with an air of
satisfaction, but at the mention of supper
his round face lengthened visibly,
and he looked wistfully toward the empty
cupboard.
“We might do without the shupper
very well, as we had praties for dinner,
but what shall we have for ating in the
morning, sure?” said thoughtful Johnnv,
with his little Irish toDgue.
“I cannot tell,” said Kathy, sighing,
“but the saints will not let us starve.
Perhaps Mrs. Arnold will be ready to
pay me for my work by that time. Then
we’ll have a nice breakfast, if it is a late
one ”
“Hot cakes and sirup,” suggested
Mikey, smacking his lips, as if he were
already tasting the delicious compound.
“You don’t look as if you could hide that
long without a morsel to pit in your
mouth. You were after giving all the
dianer till us, and didn’t ate the full of
a thimble yoursef. You’ll be getting
the sickness again if you do that wav
Kathy.”
Kathy* did feel faint. It was true
that she had tasted scarcely a mouthful
of dinner, aud as she had been ill, she
felt the need of food more than she
usually did in her days of fasting. It
was no uncommon thing for her to go
without her dinner and supper both,
but now it seemed as if she could not
“bide until the next day without even a
crust of bread.
“Shan’t I go and sec if Mr. Finn wont
trust us, just this once, for a loaf of bread
and a bit o’tay? Tay is just the
thing you need,” said Johny, after mus
ing a while, with his grave eyes fixed on
the fire.
I don t, know but y 7 ou may, Johnny,”
said Kathy, hesitatingly. He refused to
do so, once, though, and I’d rather do
almost anything than ask him again.”
“O,” said Mikey dancing about the
floor. “111 be putting the tay kettle on,
right away. Won’t it be j dly if we have
the bread and the tay?” and his little
freckled face fairly beamed with de
light.
But Kathy looked very sad and anx
ious.
Tell him that we will pay him to-mor
row, it possible, and if not, then on the
day 7 after,” said she to JohnDy, who was
buttoning his old threadbare coat, iu
which to brave the bitter night.
“The tay kettle’ll be biling in a
minute,” said Mikey, placing it over the
glowing coals as soon as Johnny had
gone. “Hark till you hear it sing,
Kathy!”
“Poor little fellow!” thought Kathy,
‘I am so afraid he will be disappointed!
O, what a dreadful thing it is to be so
poor, and what will happen to us if I
don’t get some work pretty soon?”
“There!” said Mikey, after a few mo
ments of silence. “It is beginning to
sing, now, and don’t it be jolly? It is
singing for good luck, I know it is, for
I never heard it make a noise that pleas
ant.
It did make a pleasant noise, but
Johnny had been gone a longtime, and
Kathy began to feel anxious. At last
his step sounded on the stairs, and Mikey
rushed to open the door.
Kathy! I supposed Mr. FiuD wouldn’t let
him have anything. What a mean old
man!”
“Mr. Finn says he isn’t going trust
anybody any more, but he wants to know
if you won’t be afther selling that music
box of yours—says he’ll pay you four
dollars for it,” said Johnny, all out of
breath.
‘'Sell my music box!” exclaimed
Kathy. ‘ What a strange idea! How
did he know that I had such a thing?”
“He says he’s heard it many a tiino
when he’s been after goin’ by the house
and he likes the tunes it plays.”
“Indeed!”said Katy, almost indignant
that one should dare to propose such a
thing as her selling the thing she prized
most on earth, for it belonged to her
sailor brother Jamie, who was lost at sea
three or four years before. When he
went away he told her never to part with
it if she could help it. And though
Kathy had been in sore straits before,
and had been obliged to sell everything
that they could possibly spare from
their little stock of household furniture to
procure fuel and bread, she never had
thought of sparing the music box. Not
only because it was Jamie’s did she
value it, but its music had always been
a great comfort to her. It played sweet
plaintive old Irish and Scotch tunes, and
.she kept it wound up nearly all the time,
and while she was at her work it carried
her thoughts away into pleasanter
places. It was the chief delight and
pride of both Johnny and Mikey, and
it was seldom that they were willing to
let it remain silent for one moment.
Mikey’s disappointment was too much
for him, and he began to cry in spite
of himself. The teakettle’s merry song
was unendurable now. It seemed spite
ful and mocking some way, as it sent its
fantastic wreaths of steam into the smoky
air of the dingy old kitchen.
Kathy sat down, and leaning her head
on her hand, began to think. How
much good four dollars would do them
now, for there was no certaiutly that she
could obtain any money to-morrow, and
how could they live all that time without
food? Then there was only coal enough
to last until the middle of the next day,
if the weather should continue to be as
cold as it was now. She felt as if she
• ight to part with the music box, hilt how
could she?
“\\ hat do you say, Johnny?” she said,
at least. “Ho you think we had better
sell the music box?”
“Mime you know best,” said Johnny,
pulling confusedly at his coat button.
“Four dollars is a big heap of
money! Wouldn’t it buy a plinty o’
shuppers?”
“Not so very many, dear,” said
Kathy, doubtfully, “but I suppose we
must sell it, after all. I cannot work
and go without food, and if I should be
sick again we should all starve,”
But the tears came into her eyes
when she looked upon the poor old
music box and thought it would be for the
last time. Mike’s tears began to flow
afresh, too, and Johnny looked as if he
were going to lose his last friend.
“Let’s hear it once more before we
part with it, aDy way,” said Kathy, wind
ing it up and setting it to the tune of
Auld Lang Syne.
“It seems to me that it never sounded
sc nice before,' said Johnny, placing it
on the window sill, and leaning over it
fondly.
But the music box acted as if it were
bewitched. It had never been known to
act in that way belorc. Instead of play
ing “Auld Lang Syne” through in its
ordinary proper and sedate manner, all
of a sudden there came a little snap, and
it dropped the plantive old melody, and
struck merrily into “What’s a’ the
Steer, Kimmer?”
Kathy looked frightened, it was such
an extraordinary freak, for she was sure
that she wound it up to its fullest ex
tent.
“Shure,’ said Johnny, “ I never
heard the like of it! It must be a
good sign.” And he hummed the
words :
“What’s a’ the steer, Kimmer?
What’s a’ die steer?
Jamie has landed
As soon he will be here!”
“How did you know Jamie had land
ed?” broke in a blithe voice from the
doorway. “Bless the old music box,
Kathy! I never should have found you
if it had’nt been for that!”
Kathy grew white to the very lips,
and would have fainted ii Jamie had not
caught her in his arms. For it was the
same Jamie whom they had so long sup
posed dead, and the sight of his face
again overcame her entirely. But she
soon came to her senses, and such a
happy meeting as it was you never saw
in all your life. Johnny and Mikey
fairly danced for joy when they came to
realize who the stranger was, and the
old music box sang as it never sang* be
fore.
“I thought you were dead, Jamie,”
said Kathy, at last. “The papers said
that the Fearless was wrecked, and all
on board perished.”
“I know that,” said Jamie, “and the
Fearless was wrecked: but two otlmrs of
het crew beside myself were saved. We
managed to cling to the wreck until a
vessel came along and took us in. Six
months after that I was at home once
more, but you were gone from the old
place, and though I spent months in
searching for yon I could find no trace of
you. How did you happen to come to
Boston, Kathy?”
“O, 1 heard that rent was cheaper,
aud that I could obtain work more easily
here,” said Kathy.
“But things look as if you had had a
hard time, my poor little sister,” said
Jamie, looking about the bare, comfort
less room.
Then Mikey made haste to tell him
that they hadn’t anything to eat in the
house, aod were going to sell the music
box.
“Sell the music box!” exclaimed
Jamie. “Why I would about as soon
sell you—you little midget! I guess I
can pick up money enough to buy some
supper. The music box told me where
you were. I heard it as it sat on the
window-sill, while I was going by, and
knew its voice in a moment.”
Jamie did pick up money enough to
buy some supper, and a jolly one they
had, such as the boys had not dreamed
of for a long time. Afterward they found
out that he had been in Australia, and
bad filled his pocket pretty well there.
So they had a nice cosy liit-Ie house of
their own; Johnny and Mikey were sent
to school, as proud as two little princes,
in nice new clothes, and Kathy
gave up her sewing to be Jamie’s house
keeper.
This happened a long long time ago,
hut as Johnny, who cannot get the burr
out from under his tongue, declares,
‘They never been out o’ shuppers since
and the music box sits on the sitting
room table, and sings jist as lively as
ever, shure.”
New York, October 7.—The Herald's
special, dated Clermont, says the Garde
Mobile has no artillery, while every five
hundred Germans have a proportional
number oi field pieces. The Mobiles are
discouraged. Prussians will form a second
cordon outside of the present one. Orders
from Paris and Tours are to prevent the
formation of a second cordon at any cost.
Under these instructions, a heavy battle is
imminent between Rouen and Clermont.
The French Journal Official publishes
a report that all of the Garde Mobile have
ehassepots ; and two hundred and eighty
thousand muskets of different kinds have
been distributed among the Garde Na
tional, and two hundred thousand to
Franc-Tireurs, and still ten thousand
weapons arc on hand.
The report that Garabaldi escaped from
Carrera lacks trustworthiness.
London, October 7. —The Prussian
Guard is north of Paris, b tween the ca
nal DeLiurgaud and the North Railway.
The fourth corps is on its right, and the
twelfth corps is on its left.
The task of diverting the waters of the
canal DeLiurgand is entrusted to the
pioneers of the Prussian Guard. The
stream falls into the Seine some miles be
low Paris. The object is to cut off the
supply of water from the besieged.
The Prussian guns are already in posi
tion before P The bombardment will
commence from all the batteries simulta
neously the moment the arrangements are
perfected.
Belfort, Chelesta It and New Creisuch
will be attacked immediately.
The captors of Toul are to be entrusted
with the capture of Soissons.
The Prussians have scoured the pro
vinces of Marne, Orleans and Picardy
without finding any new French levees.
TheP russiaos have evacuated Mulhouse
and are marching towards Atkirch.
Brussels, October 7. —There are ‘symp
toms cf a revolt among prisoners at Bev
erloo. Belgian rifhs have been sent there
as a precautionary measure.
London, October 7. —The Germans oc
cupy in force Pacy and Vernon, smal
towns in the Department 1 of Oire. They
were vigorously, but ineffectually opposed
by the Nationales;
Vendome, October 7. —The Prussians
were driven from Jauville to-day.
Toury, and the neighboring villages in
the Department of Eure et Loire, and tbe
road between Vendome and Toury are
thronged with Nationales. Much enthu
siasm exists in thio part of France.
London, October 7. -Petrie, formerly
Prefect of Police of Paris, publishes a for
mal repudiation, in the name of the Em
peror at 'Wilhelmshohe, of the manifest.
Versailles, October 6th, 1:35 p. m.—l
do not hold as opinion that the Republican
institutions of France constitute any dan
ger for Germany, nor have I asserted as
much in my letter of the 17th, published
in the London Daily Telegraph, or ever
expressed such a view to Mallet, or to any
other person.
(Signed) Bismarck.
5