his reasonings, in the excellence of his judgment, the mildness of his expressions, the order and just connection of his periods, or that incomparable sweetness which could soften the hardest heart; no, that was quite beyond my powers. I was like a fly, which, not being able to walk on the polished surface of a mirror, is contented to remain on the frame which surrounds it. I amused myself in copying his gesture, in conforming myself to his slow and quiet manner of pronouncing and moving. My own manner was naturally the very reverse of all this; the metamorphosis was therefore so strange, that I was scarcely to be recognised. I was no longer myself. I contrived to spoil my own original manner, without acquiring the admirable one which I so idly copied.

"St. Francis heard of this, and one day took an opportunity of saying to me-Speaking of sermons reminds me of a strange piece of news which has reached my ears. It is reported that you try, in preaching, to adopt the Bishop of Geneva's peculiarities.' I warded off this reproof by saying, 'And do you think I have chosen a bad example? What is your opinion of the Bishop of Geneva's preaching?' 'Ha!' said he, this grave question attacks reputation. Why, he really does not preach badly; but the fact is, that you are accused of being so bad a mimic, that nothing is to be seen but an unsuccessful attempt, which spoils the Bishop of Bellay, without representing the Bishop of Geneva. So that you ought to do as a bad painter did; he wrote under his picture the name of the objects which they misrepresented.' 'Let them talk,' said I, and you will find that, by degrees, the apprentice will become master, and the copies be mistaken for originals.' Joking apart, rejoined my friend, you do yourself an injury. Why demolish a well-built edifice to erect one in its stead in which no rules of nature or art are adhered to? and at your age, if you once take a wrong bias, it will be difficult to set you right again. If natures could be exchanged, gladly would I exchange with you. I do all I can to rouse myself to animation. I try to be less tedious, but the more haste I make the more I impede my course. I have difficulty in finding words, and greater still in pronouncing them. I am as slow as a tortoise. I can neither raise emotion in myself nor in my auditors. All my labour to do so is inefficient. You advance with crowded sail, I make my way with rowing. You fly-I creep. You have more fire in one finger than I have in my whole body. Your readiness and promptitude are wonderful, your vivacity unequalled, and now people say you weigh each word, count every period, appear languid yourself, and weary your audience.' You may well imagine how this well-timed reproof and commendation cured my folly. I returned immediately to my original manner."

"The best fish are nourished in the unpalatable waters of the sea, and the best souls are

improved by such opposition as does not extinguish charity?

"I asked St. Francis what disposition of mind was the best with which to meet death? He coolly replied,' A charitable disposition.'

"Do not overrate the blessings which God gives to others, and then underrate or despise what are given to yourself. It is the property of a little mind to say, Our neighbour's harvest is always more plentiful than our own, and his flock more prosperous."—

"I complained of some great hardships which I had experienced; it was obvious that St. Francis agreed in thinking that I had been ill-treated. Finding myself so well seconded, I was triumphant, and exaggerated the justice of my cause in a superfluity of words. To stop the torrent of complaint St. Francis said, Certainly they are wrong in treating you in this manner. It is beneath them to do so, especially to a man in your condition; but in the whole of the business I see only one thing to your disadvantage.' 'What is that?' That you might have been wiser, and remained silent!' This answer came so immediately home to me, that I felt immediately silenced, and found it impossible to make any reply."

The following was a strange bit of supererogation in the lively Bishop of Bellay. His candour hardly excuses it. Yet it increases our interest in his friend.

"St. Francis practised himself the lessons which he taught to others; and during fourteen years that I was under his direction, and made it my study to remark all his actions, and even his very gestures and words, I never observed in him the slightest affectation of singularity. I will confess one of my contrivances when he visited me in my own house, and remained, as his custom was, a week annually: I contrived to bore holes, by which I saw him when alone, engaged in study, prayer, or reading, meditating, dressing, sitting, walking, or writing, when usually persons are most off their guard; yet I could not trace any difference in attitude or manner: his behaviour was ever as sincere and undisguised as his heart. He had, when alone, the same dignified manners as when in society; when he prayed, you would have imagined that he saw himself surrounded by holy angels; motionless, and with a countenance of humble reverence. I never saw him indulge in any indolent attitude (!), neither crossing his legs, nor resting his head on his hand; at all times he presented the same aspect of mingled gravity and sweetness, which never failed to inspire love and respect. He used to say, that our manners should resemble water, best when clearest, most simple, and without taste. However, though he had no peculiarities of behaviour, it appeared so singular that he should have no singularities, that he struck me therefore as very singular."

"WILLINGLY, NOT BY CONSTRAINT.

"This was my friend's favourite saying, and the secret of his government. He used to say that those who would force the human will exercise a tyranny odious to God. He never could bear those haughty persons who would be obeyed, whether willingly or not, they cared not; "Those,' he said, 'who love to be feared, fear to be loved; they themselves are of all people the most abject; some fear them, but they fear every one. In the royal galley of Divine Love there is no force—the rowers are all colunteers.' On this principle he always moulded his commands into the softer form of entreaty. St. Peter's words-Feed the flock of God, not by constraint,' he was very fond of. I complained of the resistance I met with in my parochial visits. What a commanding spirit you have!' he replied; you want to walk on the wings of the wind, and you let yourself be carried away with zeal. Like an ignis-fatuus, it leads to the edge of precipices. Do you seek to shackle the will of man, when God has seen fit to have it free?'—

"St. Francis did not approve of the saying 'Never rely on a reconciled enemy.' He rather preferred a contrary maxim; and said, 'that a quarrel between friends, when made up, added a new tie to friendship; as experience shows, that the callosity formed round a broken bone makes it stronger than before. Those who are reconciled, often renew their friendship with increased warmth: the offender is on his guard against a relapse, and anxious to atone for past unkindness; and the offended glory in forgiving and forgetting the wrongs that have been done to them. Princes are doubly careful of reconquered towns, and preserve them with more care than those the enemy never gained.—

6

"St. Francis had particular delight in contemplating a painting of the Penitent Magdalen at the foot of the Cross; and sometimes called it his manual and his library. Seeing a copy of this picture at Bellay, 'Oh,' said he, what a blessed and advantageous exchange the penitent Mary made; she pours tears on the feet of Christ, and from those feet blood streams to wash away all her sins.' To this thought he added another-' How carefully we should cherish the little virtues which spring up at the foot of the cross, since they are sprinkled with the blood of the Son of God."

"What virtues do you mean?' He replied, Humility, patience, meekness, benignity, bearing one another's burden, condescension, softness of heart, cheerfulness, cordiality, compassion, forgiving injuries, simplicity, candour; all, in short, of that sort. They, like unobtrusive riolets, love the shade; like them are sustained by dew; and though, like them, they make little show, they shed a sweet odour on all around?—

"To obey a ferocious, savage, ill-humoured, thankless master, is to draw clear water from a

fountain streaming from the jaws of a brazen lion. As Samson says. It is to find food in the devourer. It is to see God only." [This is beautiful; and that is a fine bit of poetry about the lion; strength and sweetness meet in it. He is speaking of a master whom it happens to be incumbent on us to obey.]

"St. Francis highly esteemed those persons who kept inns, and entertained travellers*, provided they were civil and obliging, saying, that no condition in life, he thought, had greater means of serving God and man; for it is a continual exercise of benevolence and mercy, though, like a physician, the fee is paid."

[How oddly the following sounds in a Protestant ear, said of a “St. Francis !"]

"One day, after dinner, my friend was amusing us with his entertaining conversation, and the subject of innkeepers being accidentally started, the different persons present very freely gave their opinions on the subject, and one among them declared the whole set to be rogues.

"This did not please St. Francis; but as it was neither a fit time nor place for reproof, nor was the sarcastic gentleman in a mood to receive it, he turned the discourse by telling the following anecdote :—

"A Spanish pilgrim, little burdened with money, arrived at an inn, where, after having served him very ill, they charged him so much for his bad fare, that he loudly exclaimed at the injustice. However, being the weaker one, he was forced to give way and be satisfied. He left the inn in anger, and observing that it was facing another inn, and that in the intermediate space a cross had been erected, he soothed his rage by exclaiming, Truly, this place is a second Calvary, where the Holy Cross is stationed between two thieves (meaning the two innkeepers). The host of the opposite hotel, without appearing to notice his displeasure, coolly asked what injury he had received from him, which he thus repaid with abuse? Hush, hush, said the pilgrim, my worthy friend, be not offended, you are the good thief; but what say you of your neighbour, who has flayed me alive! This civility,' pursued St. Francis, 'soothed the pilgrim's wrath; but we should be careful not to stigmatise whole nations or trades, by terming them rogues, impertinent, &c., for even if we have no individual in view, each individual of the nation or trade is a sufferer by the sarcasm, and cannot like to be so stigmatised.'

"To this I must add, that St. Francis so highly esteemed innkeepers, that, in travelling, he forbade his servants to dispute about their charges, and ordered them rather to pay than to expostulate; and when told that the bills were unreasonable, and that they asked more than

*The reader is to bear in mind that these were foreign inns, and in old times, when a tavern-keeper's life was not so casy as it is now.

they deserved, he would reply, 'What ought we to reckon in the account for their trouble, care, civility, and frequent disturbances at night? Certainly they cannot be too well paid.' This good-nature of my friend was so well known, that the innkeepers were always anxious to present their bills to him rather than to his servants; or else to throw themselves on his liberality, well knowing that he would give more than they could have asked." |

POORNESS IN SPIRIT, AND SPIRIT IN POVERTY.

Of these we have two opposite examples in St. Charles Borromeo and St. Francis de Sales. St. Charles was nephew to the pope, and very wealthy; he had an income of more than 100,000 crowns, besides his considerable patrimony; but, amidst this wealth, he was poor in spirit, he had neither tapestry, plate, nor magnificent furniture:-his table was so frugal, as to be almost austere; and he himself lived chiefly on bread, water, and vegetables. The coffers which contained his treasures were the hands of the poor; thus in splendour was he humble.

Our saint had a different spirit: he was rich in his poverty; of his bishopric little remained to him, and his patrimony he let his brothers enjoy. But he never rejected tapestry, plate, nor fine furniture, especially what might adorn the altar, for he loved to adorn the house of God.

THOROUGH LOVE,

"We cannot deny that love is, of all mild emotions, the mildest-the very sweetener of bitterness-yet we find it compared to death and the grave; the reason of which is, that nothing is so forcible as gentleness, and nothing so gentle and so amiable as firmness.

"There was a society of holy men," said St. Francis, "who one day accosted me thus, 'Oh, sir, what can we do this year? Last year we failed, and did penance thrice a week; what shall we do now? Must we not do something more, both to testify our gratitude for the blessings we have received during the last year, and also that we may make some progress

in the work of God?'

"Very right,' I replied, that you should always be advancing; however, your progress will not be made by the methods you propose -of increasing your religious exercises-but by the improved heart and dispositions with which you afford them, trusting in God more and more, and watching yourselves more and more. Last year you fasted three days in each week; if you double the number of fasts this year, every day will be a day of abstinence, and the year following what will you do?-you will be obliged to make weeks of nine days long, or else to fast each day twice over?"

[Here follows a strong and apparently a dangerous meat: yet the essence of sweetness, and even of safety, is in it. But pray ever mark

our bold and admirable, as well as amiable, saint.]

"I do not know," said St. Francis, "how that poor virtue, prudence, has offended me, but I cannot cordially like it—I care for it by necessity, as being the salt and lamp of life. The beauty of simplicity charms me--I would give a hundred serpents for one dove. Both together, they are useful, and Scripture enjoins us to unite them; but, as in medical compounds, many drugs must be put together to form a salutary draught, so I would not place any reliance on an equal dose; for the serpent might devour the inoffensive dove. People say, that in a corrupt age like the present, prudence is absolutely requisite to maxim, but I believe it is more Christian to let prevent being deceived. I do not blame this ourselves be devoured, and our goods spoiled, knowing that a better and more lasting inhe ritance awaits us. A good Christian would rather be robbed than rob others—rather be murdered than murderer-martyred than tyrant;-in a word it is far better to be good and simple, than shrewd and mischievous.”—

"There is a strange inconsistency in the human mind, which leads men to scrutinise with severity the secrets of their fellow-creatures' souls, which it is impossible they should ever clearly discover; while they neglect to examine and probe into the springs of their own conduct, which, if they do not, they certainly ought to know. The first they are forbidden, and the second they are commanded to do.

"This reminds me of a woman remarkable for her waywardness, and constant disobedience to the orders of her husband. She was

drowned in a river. On hearing of it, her husband desired that the river should be dragged in search of the body; he bid his servants go against the current of the stream, observing, We have no reason to suppose that she should have lost her spirit of contradiction."—

St. Francis gave an excellent rule, which is, that "if an action may be considered in more lights than one, always to choose the most favourable. If impression it makes, by reflecting that the inthere is no apology to be found, soften the bad tention might not have been equally blameable; remember that the temptation might have been greater than you are aware of. Throw the odium on ignorance, carelessness, or the infirmity of human nature, to diminish the

scandal."

"True devotion consists in performing the duties of life. St. Francis was in the habit of blaming an inconsistency very common in persons more than ordinarily devout, who frequently turn their attention to the attainment of virtues of no use to them in their own sphere of action, and neglect the more needful. This inconsistency he attributed to a distaste, which people often experience for the station in which Providence has placed them, and the duties they are obliged to perform. Great laxity of

manner creeps into monasteries, when their inmates devote themselves to the practice of virtues fitted for secular life; and errors are not less likely to make their way into private families, who, from a mistaken and ill-judged zeal, introduce among themselves the austerities and religious exercises of their secluded brethren.

"Some persons think they pronounce the highest eulogium in saying of a family who ought to perform the active charities of life, 'it is quite a monastery; they live in it like monks or nuns:' not reflecting that it is trying to find figs on thorns, or grapes on brambles.

"Not that exercises of piety are not right and good, but then the time, the place, the persons, the situation; in short, all circumstances must be duly considered. Devotion misplaced ceases to be devotion: it resembles a fish out of water, or a tree in a soil not congenial to its nature.

"He compared this error of judgment, so unreasonable and injudicious, to those lovers of luxury who feed on strawberries at Christmas, not contented with delicacies in their proper season. Such heated brains require the physician's discipline rather than the cool coice of sober reason."

AN ADMIRABLE RULE IN SELF-CORRECTION FOR
MORBID OR VIOLENT CONSCIENCES.

"Since the degree of affection which we are commanded by God to feel for our neighbours ought to be measured by the reasonable and Christian love which we bear towards ourselves; since charity, which is benign and patient, obliges us to correct our neighbours for their failings with great gentleness; it does not appear right to alter that temper in correcting ourselves, or to recover from a fault, with feelings of bitter and intemperate displeasure."

SCALE OF VIRTUES.

"1st. St. Francis preferred the virtues most frequently called into action—the commonest; and to exercise which, opportunities are oftenest found.

"2ndly, He did not judge of the greatness and supernatural excellence of a virtue by an external demonstration; forasmuch as what appears a mere trifle may proceed from an exalted sentiment of charity and great assisting grace; while, on the contrary, great show may exist where the love of God operates but slightly, though that is the criterion by which we may judge whether or not a good work becomes acceptable to God.

"3rdly. He preferred the virtues of more general influence, rather than those more limited in their good effects (the love of God excepted). For example, he preferred prayer, as the star which gives light to every other excellence; piety, which sanctifies all our actions to the glory of God; humility, from which we have a lowly opinion of ourselves and our actions; meekness, which yields to the will of

others; and patience, which teaches us to suffer all things: rather than magnanimity, munificence, or liberality; because they embrace fewer objects, and their influence is less generally felt on the heart and temper.

"4thly. He was often inclined to doubt the use of dazzling qualities, because by their brilliancy they gave an opening to vain-glory, the bane of all intrinsic worth.

"5thly. He blamed those who never set any value on virtues till they gained the sanction of fashion (a very bad judge of such merchandize); thus preferring ostensible to spiritual benevolence; fasting, penances, corporeal austerities, to gentleness, modesty, and selfgovernment, which are of infinitely more value.

"6thly. He also reproved those who would not seek to obtain any virtues which were unsuited to their inclinations, to the neglect of what their duties more particularly required, serving God as it pleased themselves, and not in the manner which he commands. So common is this error, that a great number of persons, some very devout, suffer themselves to fall into it."

WE MAY BE VERY REGULAR IN DEVOTION AND VERY
WICKED!

"Do not deceive yourself,' said my friend; 'it is not impossible to be very devout, and yet very wicked. Very hypocritical,' I replied, 'and not sincerely pious.' 'No; I speak of intentional devotion. This enigma appearing to me inexplicable, I begged he would explain his meaning more clearly. 'Devotion of self and of nature,' he answered, 'is only a morally acquired virtue, and not a heavenly one assisted by grace; otherwise it would be theological, which certainly it is not. It is a quality subordinate to what is termed religion; or, as some say, it is only one of its effects, or fruits, as religion is in itself subordinate to that one of the cardinal virtues called justice, or righteousness.

"You well know that all moral virtues, and also faith and hope, which are theological, may subsist with sin. They are then without form or life, being deprived of CHARITY, which is their substance, their soul, and on which all their power depends!

To

"I lamented bitterly to St. Francis of the very hard treatment which I had received. any other person,' he said, 'I should apply the unction of consolation, but the consideration of your situation in life, and the sincerity of my affection for you, render any such expression of affection needless. Pity would inflame the wound you have received. I shall, therefore, throw vinegar and salt upon it. [Is not this affected cruelty, and truly flattering candour, admirable ?]

"You said that it required amazing and welltried patience to bear such an insult in silence." "Certainly; yours cannot be of a very fine temperament, since you complain so loudly. "But it is only in your friendly bosom, in the

ear of your affection, that I pour out my sorrows. To whom should a child turn for compassion, but to a kind parent?"

"Oh, you babe! Is it fit, do you suppose, for one who occupies a lofty station in the church of Christ, to encourage himself in such childishness? When I was a child, said St. Paul, I spake as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things. The imperfect articulation, so engaging in an infant, becomes an imperfection if continued in riper years. Do you wish to be fed with milk and pap, instead of solid food? Have you not teeth to masticate bread, EVEN THE BITTER BREAD OF GRIEF?

"What! can you delight in bearing on your breast a golden cross, and then let your heart sink beneath the weight of slight affliction, and pour out bitter lamentations?""

WE ARE APT TO GIVE THE NAME OF CALUMNY TO
UNPLEASANT BUT WHOLESOME TRUTHS.

"Have patience with all things, but chiefly have patience with yourself. Do not lose courage in considering your own imperfections, but instantly set about remedying them ;-every day begin the task anew. The best method of attaining to Christian perfection is to be aware that you have not yet reached it; but never to be weary of re-commencing. For, in the first place, how can you patiently bear your brother's burden, if you will not bear your own?

Secondly. How can you reprove any one with gentleness, when you correct yourself with asperity?

"Thirdly. Whosoever is overcome witha sense of his faults, will not be able to subdue them: correction, to answer a good end, must proceed from a tranquil and thoughtful mind."-He means a mind made tranquil by its own consciousness of good intention, and a mild consideration of what is best.

Erasmus said, that when he considered the life and doctrines of Socrates, he was inclined to exclaim "Sancte Socrates, ora pro nobis" (Saint Socrates, pray for us); that is, to put him in the saintly and Christian calendar. We do not live under a Catholic dispensation; but, certainly, while reading this book, we have been inclined to exclaim, "Would to God there were but one Christian church, and such men as Saint Francis de Sales were counted saints by everybody;-not to be imitated by them in by-gone, ascetical customs, much less in opinions that must have perplexed such natures more than any others, but in the ever-living necessities of charity and good faith, and the hope that such a church may come. And it may, and we believe will; for utility itself will find it indispensable, to say nothing of those indestructible faculties of man, that are necessary to render utility itself beautiful and useful. If earth is to be made smoother, most assuredly the sky cannot be left out of its consideration, nor will appear less lovely;

and we never see an old quiet village church among the trees, under a calm heaven,-such as that, for instance, of Finchley or Hendon,without feeling secure that such a time will arrive, with "Beauties" such as those of St. Francis de Sales preached in it, and congregations who have really discovered that "God is love."

XLII. THE EVE OF ST. AGNES. THE reader should give us three pearls, instead of three half-pence *, for this number of our publication, for it presents him with the whole of Mr. Keats's beautiful poem, entitled as above, to say nothing of our loving commentary.

St. Agnes was a Roman virgin, who suffered martyrdom in the reign of Diocletian. Her parents, a few days after her decease, are said to have had a vision of her, surrounded by angels, and attended by a white lamb, which afterwards became sacred to her. In the Catholic church formerly the nuns used to bring a couple of lambs to her altar during mass. The superstition is, (for we believe it is still to be found) that by taking certain measures of divination, damsels may get a sight of their future husbands in a dream. The ordinary process seems to have been by fasting. Aubrey (as quoted in "Brand's Popular Antiquities") mentions another, which is, to take a row of pins, and pull them out one by one, saying a Pater-noster; after which, upon going to bed, the dream is sure to ensue. Brand quotes Ben Jonson :

"And on sweet St. Agnes' night,

Please you with the promised sightSome of husbands, some of lovers, Which an empty dream discovers." But another poet has now taken up the creed in good poetic earnest; and if the superstition should go out in every other respect, in his rich and loving pages it will live for ever.