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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