her early instructor, Thaddeus, when she was aroused by sounds of strife without; her door was burst open, and many furious faces, distorted by passion, and their Turkish garbs rceking with blood, entered, and commanded her to follow. As she sank upon her knees, clinging to the rich cushions for their frail support, she was grasped and borne away by a powerful Turk, holding her high on his broad shoulders, so that her slender form towered above his turbaned head. On, on he rushed, through rooms and all intervening space, followed by crowds always accumulating, till the fresh air restored her to her senses, and she found herself in the midst of an armed force, upon a height where destruction alone was to be seen amongst the groans of the dying, the execrations of the living,-scorching flames and smoke raised by the Turks themselves obscured the rest; but as they bore her to the brink of the height on which they stood, she could see the victorious army of her father beneath; she could see his noble form advancing on his fierce charger; she could see their Christian banner, and as the majestic statue of her loved sire came nearer to save, to deliver her, a cry of joy escaped her. There was a moment of hushed quiet as the victor approached: even the gallant charger seemed to know and read the father's inmost soul at that moment of intense feeling. Surrender, knaves; infamous idolators!" and he rushed upon the few that separated him from his child-the few that merciless carnage had left. All was lost to the idolators and gained by the exulting Christians. Abgar and Sanadrong advanced the first-the father and the lover of their adored Isabelle. "Cut them down! Cut him down who holds her! No mercy, not to one!" They are beside her! They touch her! She is in the arms of her father! He must bear her from the flames and smoke. Air! Help! O God, she faints! What is this? She bleeds! Help! help! It is but fear--the blood is not hers; it is but that of the fierce Turk who held her." They lay her on the smooth grass beside their tents, and bring restoratives, her fair head pillowed on her father's breast. There was no need of earthly help. She opened her eyes, beaming with tenderness, on her father, and with an effort disengaged something from her bosom. It was the cross that had so consoled her in her captivity; and in the gaze upon that symbol of her faith, father, mother, all affections, all memories, however dear, of this world, were forgotten in the blest hope that cross inspired-eternity! Her slight form sank heavier on her father, but the smile remained the eyes, still open and upturned, seemed still gazing on that heaven to which her soul had flown. They formed a sad funeral train, the victorious troops who had so lately trod the same rich valley with the hasty stride of avenging pride. Now, slow and solemn the tread that followed the body of her whom they had loved to enthusiasm. Nature alone was smiling in all her loveliness upon that rich Eastern landscape; the bright sun was shining; the merry chirping birds were singing and fluttering amongst the sweet flowers that were embalming the air of spring with their fragrance. Sadness was on the heart of all, for the mortal part of her, so beautiful, so young; and Nature, as in mockery of their grief, seemed smiling and rejoicing that the immortal part was saved-far beyond that blue heaven which canopies war and strife. Grief for the young and innocent is usually selfish; but how cradicate from the parent's heart the natural sorrow for her child? As they cutered their own city they were joined by another long train of mourners, headed by Sanadrong, who had been sent to offer ransom, and the town they had so dearly won, for the queen; and it was she, broken with sorrow for the loss of her child, who now approached, surrounded by the weeping females who had shared her captivity. Leon's despair for the loss of his sister was violent to excess. He had not been taught in early youth that he who is born to govern must first learn to govern himself. He possessed from nature a higher order of intellect, and the gift of will-that will which begets power, not the headstrong will, which has a more appropriate name, obstinacy, and is so frequently mistaken for the higher quality-but that will which arises from a train of practised, well-regulated thought; that has subdued self, and acquired perfect knowledge of men and things, is sometimes found in those who have known great reverses, but is then rarely so productive as the will that nature gives. Had Leon's powers of mind been properly cultivated, he might have been a great prince and a great man. There were few teachers in those days in Armenia, although that country was not without her literature, even before the birth of Christ; but it was the infancy of learning; and the new doctrine of faith, so pure, so holy in itself, brought into the land such strife, such fierce disputes, such contention, of which Leon from his earliest infaucy was witness, that these circumstances doubtless influenced his young mind. If education and early example are so necessary in the common walk of life, how much more difficult must it be to inculcate what is required of the prince on whom so many depend! CHAPTER V. AND LAST. Leon was told from his infancy that he was born to be a king, and to command; this was the summary of what was taught him, and on a fierce proud nature it took its effect. While he had Isabelle for his guide, he concealed, for love of her, his bad passions, or rather they had never burst forth; for her sublime virtues tempered what was bad in him, and the emulation of his young life was to merit her praise: no wonder, then, her death was to have such a fatal influence on his character. It was now not so much in sorrow as in anger that he approached his royal parents; they, he said, were the cause of his sister's death, his father from weak indulgence in permitting that fatal journey, and his mother for instilling fanaticism into the mind of her child. He went still further in his impious taunts, and said the gods of their forefathers were less exacting than the new idolatry of the "Cross," they might have remained at home and worshipped them, they asked no pilgrimage. These railings and upbraidings were too much for the queen's weak health, impaired by sorrow; she was one of those gentle creatures born only for peace and smiles, and could not bear the frowns of life; in a few months she sank and died, and shared the same grave with her darling Isabelle. Leon now saw no reason for constraint, and he broke forth in open revolt against Abgar, his king and father. The provinces, always idolatrous at heart, needed no such potent chief to bid them rise against their Christian king; they had beeu converts from interest more than conviction, without comprehending the divine origin of the religion they adopted, or its beneficial influence on humanity. The apostle Thaddeus had preached the mission of Christ,-he preached it still, for he had returned from his captivity shortly before the death of Charistan, and that gentle queen had the consolation of receiving the last rites from his hands. He preached the Gospel, it is true; he was now old and feeble, and had ever been rather a harsh and severe preacher. Harshness makes few converts, and Isabelle was gone, whose piety, charity, and indulgent virtues, aided by the precepts she practised so sincerely, converted many pagans from their errors, and the prestige of her own grace and excellence kept them faithful to the cause of truth. Abgar remained steady to the faith he had adopted, but he, himself a violent man, confident in his own strength, disdained to use entreaties with his son; he thought his superior power would subdue him to obedience,-not so, however, was the result of their disputes. Leon no longer recognised duty or respect to his father, and joined his cousin Sanadrong in open rebellion against the State; their object, he said, was to restore their broken idols, and overthrow the Cross. Joined by a large force of Turks and other infidels, followers of their leader Sanadrong, they attacked, but did not surprise, as was their intention, the Christian troops. Abgar was a brave experienced soldier, and he fought not so much for a crown that now had few charms for him, as for the Cross, the emblem of his faith; and with the sacred banner waving on high, he advanced himself at the head of his troops, he felt he must conquer or die, fall who might in this fearful unnatural fight. What contest so dreadful as that inspired by religious fanaticism,-a son against a father. The carnage was great as it was merciless, but ended in the repulse of the pagans. The battle was dearly bought, for in Sanadrong's hasty retreat Leon had been wounded,his father had seen him fall. None knew but his own heart how Abgar in the midst of the fight had watched over that rebel and only son. He was borne by the king's orders to the palace, and in watchful solicitude the afflicted father sat by the wounded boy,-unconscious of this tender care. He had been pierced by an Arab, a late convert to the cause, to whom the person of the prince was unknown. The sharp wound had penetrated so near the lungs that great anxiety and fear was entertained that some vital part was touched, or that he could not survive the abundant hemorrhage. Surgery and medicine in those days were confined to a few simples, but in these all the Arab tribes were strong. Leon was young and vigorous, and as he survived the first great loss of blood, hope returned to the father's heart. At length Leon was aware of the presence of his injured parent: a shower of tears relieved his heart, his head reposing on the same breast where Isabelle had breathed her last: all this passed through the troubled brain of Leon as he faintly pressed the hand over which drops of repentance fell fast and heavily from his eyes. "You will live, my son, to redeem the past." He was too weak to speak, but he felt he was forgiven; such goodness, such greatness of soul, surpassed belief, for a child cannot know the depth of love that is at the bottom of a parent's heart. Each day found Leon better, and with returning strength a tone of mind quite different from the past. In the wild imaginings of sickness, he had thought or dreamt that his dead sister had appeared to him in all the radiance of her heavenly joy, more lovely far than in her wondrous beauty here below; she spoke words of peace and hope, and pointed to the path where the sinner that repenteth may attain a glorious reward, and then vanished in a blaze of light. It was doubtless the fancy of a disordered brain,but the dream or vision had its effect. He sent for Thaddeus, who to him never had been harsh, and they spoke long in the stillness of that chamber where he thought he had seen his dead sister. Those visits were long and frequent, and at length the father, happier perhaps than he had ever been in his son's return to duty than he had been during his turbulent though bright days of boyhood, was admitted at length to their counsels, and joy indeed it was to hear from Leon's lips that now he was a Christian,-now and for ever, for he was so on conviction. This joy-so great, so perfect-was not to last; as he recovered from his wounds it was evident there was a germ of malady, slow but sure in its effects; his cough was low but frequent; his cheek and eye were bright, yet it was not health, and each day seemed to shorten the journey of this life to eternity. Abgar had always hope, not so Leon-the dream that had awakened him to good, the vision of his sister, had beckoned him to follow, and he felt he was going to her. He would lie for hours smiling and looking at the heavens, as though in communion with an unseen spirit. In the moon and in the stars he took so much delight that his couch was moved in order that his gaze might not be interrupted. He saw, he said, a light far brighter than the moon; there, he would say, stands Isabelle, in that halo of silvery light around her head. One night at this his mystic hour he sought the watchful father's hand, "O, king! O, father! forgive your child, about to pass into a better world." The agonised man raised his hand to bless his son,-it fell upon his lifeless clay; the spirit had flown away so gently; but the blessing,-did not the bright angel guardian fly with it to heaven? The childless king stood long by the body of his lost son, he called for no help, he felt that all was useless in this world, and, before he went forth and himself proclaimed his own and his country's loss, that left him childless, and his throne without an heir, he had prayed long and fervently; he had no need of the consoling words of Thaddeus, or the tears of his people; he had sought and he had found strength in his great calamity, for it was the Lord who gave, and the Lord had taken away." Abgar was never heard to murmur; the activity, the energy, so requisite to reign in those troubled times of early Christianity, were gone; he continued, however, to reign and combat for the Church some years, when he died, and his nephew Sanadrong reigned in his stead. His first act was to overthrow Christianity, restore the worship of their pagan gods, and idolatry was again the religion of Armenia, torn with feuds, dissensions, and ravaged by war; till at length peace, with Christianity, was re-established by Dertud, the valorous and good. Translated from the French by JOSEPH KERR, Esq. THAT this fall of Rome was the punishment of her blind attachment to idols, all the authors of that time agree; and even if St. Augustine, Paul Orosius, and the other writers were silent on the subject, the chain of events which we shall point out hereafter, would not permit us to entertain any doubt upon it. If any one has any difficulty in believing that this is the fall which St. John foretold, when he said, Babylon the Great is fallen," because, after its fall, it still continued to subsist as a great city, such difficulty arises from not remembering that the same thing happened likewise to Babylon, to which St. John compares Rome; for after Babylon was taken and sacked by Cyrus, according to the prophecies of Isaias, Jeremiah, and Ezechiel, it still subsisted for a long time, even so long as till the time of Alexander and his successors. But however great she was even immediately after her captive, the prophets see her fall in the time of Cyrus, because it was then that she lost her first glory, and that having been taken capture she never could recover the empire of which she had been deprived. Thus the glory of Rome was tarnished by Alaric, her pride trampled under foot, and her empire divided amongst barbarians, without any hope of her ever being able to recover it. When Rome received this great blow, although the end was not yet, and the terrible annihilation of the Roman power had yet to be accomplished, there were many who felt that the fulfilment of the oracles of the Holy Spirit with respect to the fall of Rome, had already begun to work. We read in "Historia Lausiaca," a work composed by Palladius, an author of that age, that St. Melania quitted Rome, and persuaded several of the senators also to quit that city by a secret presentiment which she had of its approaching ruin; and that after they had left Rome, the tempest caused by the barbarians, and foretold by the prophets, fell on that great city. A learned interpreter of the Apocalypse (whose work has been erroneously attributed to, and is incorporated with the writings of St. Ambrose, but who evidently wrote in the seventh century, as is apparent from the facts which he mentions in connection with the history of his own time), plainly states that the harlot mentioned in the 17th chapter of the Apocalypse, and who is described as sitting upon the waters, is Rome, the mistress of the world; that the ten kings in the same chapter who were to destroy the harlot were the Persians and Saracens, who, in his time, had subjugated Asia; the Vandals, the Goths, the Lombards, the Bourguegnons, the Franks, the Huns, the Alans, and the Sueves, who had destroyed the Roman empire, and who had caten her flesh, that was to say, her wealth and her provinces, as he relates in detail, as we shall show hereafter. Father L'Abbe has observed, that the commentary was attributed by some persons to Berengaudius; indeed, several copies of it have been found, and amongst others a very perfect one in the Bibliothèque Royale, under the name of Berengandins, a man well versed in ecclesiastical matters, as is seen by his book. 8. It was then a constant tradition amongst the Fathers, from the origin of Christianity, that the Babylon, whose fall was predicted by St. John, was the city of Rome and her empire; and thereby is overthrown from top to bottom the entire Protestant system, because in it Protestants endeavour to discover the fall, not as the ancient Fathers did of a great empire, and of a Rome, mistress of the world by her victories, but of a Christian church, and of a Rome, put at the head of all Christian churches by the primacy which was given to St. Peter. And if it were necessary to enter into a comparison of the two ideas, without even paying any attention to the merits of the one or of the other, there is no person who could not prefer that of the ancient Fathers to that of the Protestants, since the Fathers have found, everywhere in the Apocalypse, the marks of a fallen empire, whilst the Protestants have never been able to discover therein the slightest allusion to a fallen church. To point out a fallen church, a Jerusalem reproved must have been put in contrast with that holy and blessed Jerusalem of which St. John gives us so beautiful a picture; at all events, a Samaria once in the favour of God, but afterwards given up to idolatry and schism, must needs have been used as a figure of a fallen church. But the apostle chose on the contrary a Babylon, that is to say, a profane city, which had never known God, and had never any relationship with him. He makes no mention of anything but of her empire, her idolatries, her cruelties, and her fall; and in that fall we find no trace of the ruins of a church, but on the contrary, everything connected therewith reveals the wreck of a wealthy city. If he warns men to come out of her, he speaks as one who would warn people to fly from a city which was about to be overthrown, lest they should be overwhelmed in her ruins, or at the most from a corrupt and voluptuous city, whose bad example it is necessary to avoid. It is under this title, and in this manner, that St. John brings Rome before our view; he makes no mention of a church; all that he sees is a tyrannical and idolatrous city, which persecutes the saints in order to compel them to embrace her religion, and to adore her gods and her emperors. It may be said, however, that as the spiritual empire of Jesus Christ has been described in the prophecies under the figure of a temporal empire, so should that spiritual anti-Christian empire be described, whose scat, say Protestants, is at Rome. But what a delusion, what an error it would be to speak thus ! for in the prophecies we have a hundred clear marks of the spiritual empire of Jesus Christ; and yet, in the Babylon of the Apocalypse, we cannot find a single mark of this pretended spiritual anti-Christian empire. But, on the contrary, all the descriptions which St. John gives us of Babylon point to a city altogether profane, and which never had anything holy about it; for whilst Babylon is manifestly of that character, he describes her in another place as "that great city where the saints were persecuted, and their Lord was crucified." But Protestants will, perhaps, say that this great city that persecuted the saints is Jerusalem, because it was there that Jesus Christ was nailed to the cross. By no means, for they see too plainly that such a description will not answer to Jerusalem. “Never,” says Juricu, the protestant minister, "has Jerusalem been called the great city, without adding 'the holy' city;" and further, the great city everywhere throughout the Apocalypse means the Roman empire, as Jurieu admits. "As for the great city," says he, "where Jesus Christ was crucified, that is the Roman empire, in which the Saviour of the world was crucified under Pilate, and amid a crowd of Jews and Romans." Such was the great city which crucified Jesus Christ, in his own person, and continued to persecute him in the saints his members. This is the great city so often mentioned in the Apocalypse, and so frequently represented under the name of Babylon. And how does St. John speak of her in another place in the mystical and spiritual language of the Apocalypse! He calls her Sodom, and Egypt, and therefore her people could have had no relationship whatever with the people of God. (To be continued.) THE YOUNG MARTYRS. Ir was towards the end of the third century, when St. Clair introduced the truths of our holy faith amongst the inhabitants of Condivineum. Condivineum is situated in the west of France, upon the banks of the Lower Loire, and is, in these days, known as the city of Nantes. It may be interesting to add, that the first bishop of this see was St. Clair. It is really most delightful to read the life of a missionary saint, and to inquire how it came to pass that he acquired such influence over men's minds as to induce them to embrace the maxims of Christianity. The secret of this success was, that the saints preached incessantly, and that God gave them the precious gift of working miracles; and lastly, that their own sanctified lives were a bright shining light, which attracted the Pagan worshippers; for they soon discovered that those men who had come to labour and perhaps to die amongst them, were very far different from the generality of mankind. They learnt that the Christian religion inculcated endurance of suffering, forgiveness of wrongs, lovingness even for persecutors, contempt of self-lessons, indeed, which were not taught in the proud school of Paganism. To return to our narrative. Amongst the many converts which were the fruits of St. Clair's missionary labours, there was soon enrolled the young Donatian, the governor's son. Maximian, who was then emperor, in conjunction with Dioclesian, had issued an order to the prefect to put to death those Christians who refused to offer sacrifiee to the gods. In those times of perscention it was well nigh impossible that Donatian could conceal his conversion. He was apprehended, and conducted into the presence of the Pagan high priest. He made a manful confession of his faith: he was then clad in the white robe of the martyr. As the convert was courageously marching to the place of torture, he perceived his brother Rogatian. How great was the contrast! One brother wore chains upon his hands, and, surrounded by lictors, appeared like some malefactor; whilst the other, bearing upon his head a wreath of flowers, was gaily treading his way to some scene of pleasure and festivity. Rogatian knew not the perils of his brother; hence, when he beheld him thus treated, he was much astonished, and cried out, "Whither are you conducting my brother?" "To death!" replied the lietors. Nay, say to glory," exclaimed the intrepid Donatian. "I am about to suffer death for the sake of Jesus Christ. Alas! my brother, how sorely do I grieve at the very thought that you know not the God of heaven and earth. He alone is God. Those whom you worship are but the works of men's hands, and, like them, are destined to decay. That Saviour for whom I am on the point of suffering some momentary torments here below, is the resurrection and the life. He will, in heaven, repay with endless delights his faithful servants. Ah, Rogatian, believe with me, then I shall die in peace. Let us expire together, so as to arise immortal." These words exercised a divine influence over the idolator's heart. His eyes were opened to that blessed light descending from on high; our Saviour, all radiant with glory, appeared to Rogatian, and showed him two crowns; then the youth flew to Donatian, clasped him in his arms, and joined the advancing procession. The martyr, on the other hand, was prevented by chains from embracing his brother; but he felt a holy joy and a deep thankfulness to God. Such a scene inspired compassion in the minds of the savage-looking crowd, whom curiosity had drawn together. There were heard voices, saying, "Hardly have they passed the age of childhood, when these youths are ready to die. Of what manner of men are the Christians, who thus despise torments and death?" Others added, "They will adore Jupiter: lead them once again to the temple; if they refuse to sacrifice to the immortal gods, then let them perish.” Accordingly the youths were conducted to the temple of idols; side by side they walked, each bearing upon his countenance the impress of guilelessness and resignation. The head of Rogatian was still adorned with flowers and fillets; he heard all the words of life as they dropped from his brother's mouth; he grew stronger in faith each minute. At length they reached the Temple of Janus; the high priest then presented them with a cup for libations and with incense for sacrifice. The people united their supplications with those of the high priest: vain were their efforts. Rogatian cast away a vessel of gold which had been offered him, saying, “May the worship of the false gods perish; those whom you adore are merely empty images. The true God is the God of the Christians; He is the God of my brother; He is also my God. Let us die; we will sacrifice to Jesus Christ alone, and this sacrifice will be our own blood: lead us to death." Then the populace, forgetful of their former compassion, demanded the death of the heroic martyrs, and treated them with contumely; yet the two sons of God remained resolute, nothing wavering. They marched with a firm step to the place of torture. This spot is situated upon the road to Paris, and is now distinguished by two crosses and two elm trees. The executioners here tried the effects of more tortures before giving the fatal blow to the two Christians. When Donatian saw the blood gushing from the wounds of his brother, he cried out, "Courage, courage, my dear Rogatian; here is that baptism which you have earnestly sought. A martyr's blood is, as it were, another baptism which opens the gates of heaven, and which bestows eternal happiness." Whilst he was exhorting Rogatian, the latter had ceased to live. Another instant had hardly elapsed when the blow of the axe also liberated the soul of Donatian. Thus did two Christian youths give incontestable proofs of the strengthgiving influence of the new faith, which St. Clair had brought to the natives of a town in Western Ganl. Among the many causes which so miraculously conduced to convert the heathen world, we may number the countless streams of martyrs' blood which fertilized the territory of the church. DISCIPULUS. A MAN is a fool if he be enraged with an ill that he cannot remedy, or if he endures one that he can. He must bear the gout, but there is no occasion to let a fly tickle his nose. Mary hath chosen the best part, which shall not be taken away from her."-St. Luke, x. 42. WHILE gifted with titles, with honours, and wealth.-- He bids her depart from that mansion of earth,-- SHE IS NOT WELL. A PROTESTANT clergyman, whose church was in the neighbourhood, was a guest at the house of the Duke of Leinster. He had been staying there three or four days, and on Saturday night, as they were all retiring to their rooms, the duke said, "We shall meet to-morrow at breakfast." "Not so," said our Milesian Protestant. "Your hour, my lord, is a little too late for me. I am very particular in the discharge of my duty, and your breakfast will interfere with my church." The duke was pleased with the very proper excuse of his guest, and they separated for the night,-his grace perhaps deeming his palace more safe from all the evils of life, for containing in its bosom such an exemplary son of the Church. The first person, however, whom the duke saw in the morning upon entering the breakfast-room, was our punctual Protestant, deep in rolls and butter, his finger on an egg, and a large slice of the best Tipperary ham secured on his plate. "Delighted to see you, my dear vicar," said the duke; "but, I must say, as much surprised as delighted." "Oh, don't you know what has happened?" said the sacred breakfaster. "She is not well." Who is not well?" said the duke. "You are not married--you have no sister living; I am quite uneasy tell me, who is not well?" "Why, the fact is, my lord duke, that my congregation consists of the clerk, the sexton, and the sexton's wife. Now, the sexton's wife is in very delicate health when she cannot attend, we cannot muster the number (three) mentioned in the Rubric, and we have therefore no service on that day. The good woman has a cold and a sore throat this morning, and as I had breakfasted but slightly, I thought I might as well hurry back to the regular family déjeúner.” I don't know that the clergyman behaved improperly, but such a Church is hardly worth an insurrection and civil war every ten years.-Rev. Sydney Smith |