So ardently did he labor with his pen for the cause of his native land, and so rich were those labors in beneficial results, that whatever may have been the failings of the man, they are forgotten roam, exiles from their beautiful land. in the harmonies of the poet, and while

there is a heart to feel or a tongue to utter the sweet verses of their bard will be remembered and sung by Irishmen, wherever in the wide world they may

T. G.

A

THE BROKEN HEART.

CATHOLIC priest has unhappily | bling and stricken with the incipient atfrequent cases of extreme sorrow tack of contagious disease:—the poor and desolation to witness-not only to dying Catholic knows this well-often witness, but to alleviate, assuage and beseeches his pastor not to come too near console to the best of his power and abil- his infectious bed for fear he should ity. Why do the Catholic poor love catch the fever: but what priest ever their clergy, reverence them so much, shrinks from his duty? Ay, though he and fly to them in all their troubles, send knows that by every inspiration he is for them on the instant when pain or in- inhaling the morbid poison of infection, firmity has touched their suffering though his life may be the sure sacrifice frames, when grief or anguish has laid of his missionary attendance on his sick prostrate their mental energies, when penitent-thanks be to the great God of despair at the icy apathy of the world heaven, no instance has yet been prohas seized their darkened minds? It is claimed where he has neglected a dying because they trust in his sympathy, in penitent in this land of most miserable his fatherly love to them, though mean apostasy. and squalid and ragged, though abiding Some twenty years ago a young priest in haunts of fetid squalor and wretched- left college and was appointed to a Lonness that effectually keep far from them don mission. He had never attended a the delicate and sensitive and more fa- sick bed, and had a natural terror of invored of their fellow-creatures, but into fective disorders. His first sick call was which they well know the Catholic priest to a case of fever. The young priest. never shrinks from entering. They well turned pale-a sickness of the heart know that he cheerfully, ay, most kindly, stole over him, and he felt an extreme remains by their loathsome bedside in reluctance to attend the penitent-he cholera, in fever, in the other terrible felt that if he went he was a dead man. and infectious maladies which afflict He felt convinced that if he went he poor human nature-remains there for should catch the fever and die. He went an hour or two, and more if necessary, in great trouble to his brother-chaplain, to hear the long confession, to probe told him his fears, and begged him to the conscience, and extract a good con- attend the case, as he felt sick at heart fession from a poor agonized and depart- and was terribly afraid. The older priest ing soul, so that he may make, even at was inured to such cases, and thought the last awful moment, his peace with the sooner his young confrere was brokGod; remains there without showing en in, the better; joked him about his any outward manifestation of disgust, fears; told him to throw himself boldly though his whole frame may be trem- and unflinchingly upon the fatherly pro

tection of his good God-said he would | ces of that sick call, are burned in let

go if he wished, but that he had better ters of fire upon my memory. I attendattend the sick call himself, and go fear- ed that poor dying Irishwoman three less of infection, God would protect times that day. Never had I before him. But God called him to Himself. inhaled so fearful, so pestilential a stench He went in fear and trembling. He as I endured in those three perilous stayed a long time by the bedside of a visits. It seemed to percolate throughpoor dying Catholic-caught the fever out my entire frame; but I soon forgot before he left, staggered home and died the annoyance in my anxious desire to at the end of the week. But he died a reconcile this dying woman to her God. martyr to charity, and his death was Her sufferings were terrible. She had enviable. been scorched up with fever-delirious In my own case I have been often -raving-but now consciousness was similarly situated; have been summoned restored; the lull of the tempest before in cases of typhus, gone with fear and death shattered the frail bark of life. I an almost certain conviction that I should knew that ere many hours she would catch the fever, and most probably die. die, and I improved those precious fragSix years last January I was called to ments of time to the utmost. She had attend a poor Irishwoman in Brewer's been the most miserable of the poor, and Court, Great Wild street. She was in had suffered much and heavily. She the last stage of typhus. The court had had been so chafed and miserable from a most unhappy name. It had only five privation, from sufferings, from pity and houses, was three feet wide-and the relief too long withheld, that she had blind, and squalid, and miserable court become desperate and despairing. She was always overflowed with noxious thought that no human heart in this filth and slush. The stench was intol-wide world could feel the least pity for erable, and for two years previous it had her. The fever came, and her sufferings never been free from typhus. It was my first essay in that perilous locality. I went with a heavy and despondent heart. I knew that I must go; there was no flinching from the call of missionary duty. I offered, as fervently as I could, the sacrifice of my life at the shrine of duty, and humbly, resignedly committed my life to God's holy and allmerciful keeping. I knew that if I indeed died in the discharge of a call of missionary duty, it was God's holy will, was the best thing that could happen to me, and the surer was the prospect of my eventual happiness in heaven. "Come to me, all you that labor and would not (though I felt strongly that are heavy burdened," was the blessed sinking of the heart at the thought of admonition of Christ. I went to this impending fever) ask any of my brother- poor dying creature as His representachaplains to take the sick call. I went: tive. Thanks be to God, when I entered but the events, and the after-consequen- this pestilent den, all thoughts or fear

I

and her despair were at the climax. One of her poor neighbors sent for me when her feeble intellect came round. As I stated, I went, though with most heavy misgivings as to my own eventual safety and health. I found her completely prostrate in mind and body-the wild and ghastly and staring look-her shrunken brow glowing like burnished copper, her lips black and crusted, her poor wasted dried-up hands clutching and picking the bed-clothes, which were raised momentarily with the rapid heaving of her chest.

of infection left me. I was only anxious | Her dying eyes were fixed upon me as to lead that poor dying soul to God, I entered, but how changed their exand effect her peace with Him. A few pression! I knelt down by her bedside kind, pitying, soothing words, and the to hear her last wishes, for she was all effect was marvelous. Her poor eyes, but speechless. that perhaps for years had not shed a "Father," she whispered faintly, "I single tear of sorrow for her sins, now die so happy-I go now, I hope, thanks rained in passionate weeping for her past be to God and your blessed ministry, to offences. And then, as I laid before her, join my husband and my children in in the intervals of confession, the heaven. Pray for me, father, when you strong and abiding hopes in the merits say mass--remember me in the holy of her Reedemer, those tears of sorrow sacrifice of the altar." were changed to tears of hope and love. When I told her to offer up the sacrifice of her life with all its attendant pains, and whatever might be the agonies of her death, in union with the sufferings of her Redeemer and in penance for her past sins, her resignation was extreme. She was anxious even to suffer more. There was no more restlessness, but perfect and assured peace. There was no longer despair, but assured and Christian hope. She knew well the power of the keys, committed by God to His one, true Church; and most reverently and thankfully did she receive the blessed pardon of her sins. I then anointed her, and promised to bring the blessed sacrament within the hour.

And when I went again with that most touching and consoling of all God's sacraments, I found in my patient a marked and blessed change. She was perfectly resigned, repentant and hopeful. The love of God, though late, through his singular and tender mercy, now held full possession of her departing soul. And, as I leaned over that miserable bed of rags, to give her the holy viaticum, I felt a chill and sickness at my heart. I knew that I had caught

I held a little crucifix to her dying lips; she kissed it reverently;-a tear fell upon that sacred emblem of her Saviour's sufferings; a slight quiver convulsed her features for an instant; and then all was over.

I returned home thankful for the happy and consoling death of this poor destitute Irishwoman, but before midnight became partially delirious. I went to bed wretchedly ill, got up the next morning worse, managed to say mass, then sent for the doctor, was told that low fever had set in, took again to my bed, and was soon in a state of strong delirium. For weeks I hovered between life and death, lying insensible, and like a burnt-up log upon my bed. Through the goodness of Almighty God, through the prayers of my flock, and the skill and unremitting care of my medical attendants, I at length happily recovered. When my strength was tolerably restored, I returned again to my duties. Since then I have had almost weekly, sometimes daily, similar cases of typhus to attend; have run the same risk; sometimes thought I had caught the fever, but, thank God, have hitherto escaped.

the fever. But the poor thing wished But now the cholera is come. This, to see me again before she died. I went however, is dangerous only to the pato see her the same evening. The death-tient, not to the medical or clerical atrattle then gave unmistakable notice tendant. It is most certainly not inthat her parting moments were at hand. fectious, so I have not the slightest fear

*

now.

in attending. But terrible are the sufYour reverence, do you see these ferings of the poor cholera patient; those scars on my forehead? Do you see who witness them will never forget those this mark on my throat? My unfortuagonies to their dying day. In the nate husband was given to drink, and early part of this week I received an when the drink was in him he cared urgent summons to attend a poor wo- little what he did; and when he came man in one of those numerous and filthy home tipsy at night, he used to beat me purlieus that branch forth like pestilent and knock me about most cruelly. Last arteries from Gray's Inn lane; a laby- Easter he came home as usual, roaring rinth and net-work of courts and alleys mad with the drink, and because I was one within the other, into which fresh in bed, and the fire was out-I had no air never enters, in which fever and money to buy coals, and I had gone other fatal maladies are ever rife and hungry and fasting to bed—he dragged prevalent. To this densely-crowded lo- me out of my bed by the hair of my cality I immediately repaired. In a head; and when I screamed with the little back closet, about eight feet square, pain, he snatched up a knife from the dark, dirty and miserable, with no fire, table, and cut me with it in the throat, no bed, but a piece of sacking, no sheets and three times in the head; and he then nor blankets, but an old worn-out cover- kicked me in the back till it was all but let, lay a still beautiful young woman broken. I was eleven weeks in the groaning and shrieking with pain. She hospital after that, father; and since had gone through the previous distress- then I have been afraid to live with ing stages of this singular malady, and collapse was now supervening. A cupfull of miserably cold tea, without either milk or sugar, was the only sustenance she had, and with which she vainly tried to alleviate her thirst, and applied continually to her cold blue lips. I sent a good woman who attended her immediately for a glass of hot brandy and water from the nearest public-house. This warmed and revived her, and mitigated her tortures. I saw a ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. I asked her if she was married.

"God help me, your reverence," said she, "I am-more's the misfortune."

"How so?" I inquired.

"Oh, sir," she replied, "it is a long tale, and a sad tale to tell, and I have not strength to tell it now. My husband is living, but I am separated from him

In this court under notice, from twelve to twenty, or even more, of the poor Irish reside in one room. There is rarely any ventilation; no won⚫ that epidemics consign so many to the grave.

him. I then went into service; but the weakness in my back prevented me doing hard work; and how I have lived since then I hardly know."

It appeared, from further questioning this unhappy creature, that she had had several children, but that they had all died in their infancy, chiefly of starvation, and from ill-treatment from their drunken father.

"Oh, father," said she, with many a gushing tear, "I could not have believed, when I married him, that I should have gone through so much hardship, nor that he would have treated me so cruelly. I did not mind so much what he did to myself, but to the poor children, when they were screaming for food, and with scarcely a rag to cover their poor little limbs; and when he was spending his earnings at the publichouse, and then came home swearing and blaspheming, and beating not only me, but the poor babies for crying-it broke my heart, sir, to see all this, to

the drink and went to the bad."

And as she told me this touching tale of woman's suffering, of woman's magnificent forgiveness for most cruel outrages and wrongs, her beautiful countenance was lit up with an unmistakable look of entire affection to the degraded brute so unworthy the name of a husband. She prayed most fervently to God for his conversion from his sinful life, that she might see him yet before she died, and might impart to him her entire forgiveness.

suffer it day by day, night by night; he was as good and kind a hearted boy and then to see the poor little innocents as ever broke bread before he took to pine away for the want of food; and then to die off one after the other, until my last little blue-eyed Nelly was laid, poor innocent, cold and dead, in the parish coffin. I then felt, sir, that I was childless, and my heart shed bitter, scalding tears; and in the midst of my grief, when I lay awake praying to God, and thanking Him that my poor starved children were now with the saints in glory, where they will never feel the hunger any more-that was the time, your reverence, with the coffin of my dead child in the room, when my husband came in, and cut my throat, and stabbed me in the head, and broke the back of me. He did more than that, sir; he broke my heart. All the bright and beautiful love that I vowed for him on my marriage day, and which no ill treatment could ever drive from me, then vanished entirely; and I felt a bitter hatred arising in my heart against the father of my dead child, who could not respect the presence of her cold remains, and who then could treat its mother and his wife so cruelly."

“But you forgive him, my dear child, you forgive him from your heart, do you not ?"

I have often, in my other "Sick Calls" narrated the fervent piety with which so many of the sick and dying Catholic poor receive the last sacraments of the Church. This poor young woman's recep tion of them was all I could desire. I was never more deeply impressed with their sanctifying, comforting and sustaining influence in preparing a Christian soul for a happy death and endless felicity beyond the grave.

While I was yet reciting the prayers for the dying, a hasty and heavy step ascended the creaking stairs. A hand was applied stealthily to the latch of the room-door-I turned my head--the door slowly opened-a rough, shaggy head, and a countenance soddened and inflamed with drink, was thrust, horrorstruck, forward-the eyes of that hideous countenance glanced rapidly round the room-fell spell-bound on the bed. The husband-for it was he-in that glance of inquiry recognized his dying wife. In an instant he was at her bed

"Oh, sir, I do indeed forgive him, as I pray God to forgive me my sins against Him. I used to lay awake in the hospital night after night thinking of him-thinking on the early days of my marriage, when we were so comfortable and happy together, and so wishing he would come and see me. But he never did, sir. I went to see him twice, but side-prostrate, grovelling on the floor, he never came. When the pain of my wounds lessened, all my old love for him returned, and I shall never die happy until I see him again. It was "James, darling, don't take on so,' the drink, sir, that made him a bad she faintly murmured; "look up, dear, husband and father to his children, for and kiss me before I die."

beating his head, his breast, and groaning aloud, and, with choking sobs, proclaiming himself her murderer.