position among the Catholic cabinets; vigorous aud determined in his resistance to the powerful attacks of heterodox governments. He was, moreover, a generous patron of the arts and sciences, and among the many institutions which shared his patronage, the rich and noble Etruscan museum at the Vatican received his special care and attention.

"All very well," said the friends of Bartolo, after he had been pouring forth one of his frequent encomiums on the aged Pope; "but Gregory is too haughty, too intractable, and too much opposed to the progress of European civilization at the present time; he has shown himself an enemy to enlightenment and useful inventions, and seems even to take delight in stifling the aspirations of Italian genius. He is, moreover, iguorant of the details of administration, introducing disorder into the state, and oppressing it without compassion with new debts and imposts.'

"I agree with you," returned Bartolo, "as regards his aversion for what you call progress, which does not accord with certain notions which he entertains as Pope; but as for the other accusations, I am of opinion that he is not the cause of the evil, it must be laid to the charge of the rebels in Romagna and elsewhere, who have forced him to take the Swiss into his service, as he formerly employed the Austrians. But, believe me, under another Pope, Italy will become united in one confederation, as Gioberti plainly intimates in his Primato. We shall behold Rome's resurrection, her reinstatement, under the presidency of the Roman pontiff, in her ancient supremacy, and her restoration to her former flourishing state of magnificence. Think you that the Austrians will ever agree to this Italian confederation? What unsuspecting innocence! As for the Austrians, Cesare Balbo, in his 'Sparauze d'Italia,' has become our security, and he points out a very simple method of getting rid of them. In a word, place the Pope at the head of the Italian confederation, and Rome will not only fulfil her engagements, but she will become great and opulent, and will scatter her treasures among foreign nations, as in the times past, when the Pope was truly Pope, and held in his hand the destinies of the Christian world."

-

Some admitted the justice of these remarks, while others thus expressed their dissent: "Bartolo is perpetually dreaming of Alexander III. and the Lombard league, and now he is bent on the Pope's heading the Italian league; but until we find a Pope in the vigour of youth, and ready, with the resolution of a Napoleon, to sally forth on his warhorse, your Pope, my dear Bartolo, will remain snugly enveloped in his robes, and instead of riding through his states on horseback, he will be carried by his throne-bearers to the Vatican, to bestow his benediction."

"Gently, my friends. Uban VII. was an old man, yet he was the first to mount his horse and march against Garigliano at the head of his warriors; and Julius II. was far advanced in years when he marched into the heart of Lombardy, led the assault, and triumphantly mounted the breach of the conquered city." At these fervent words the company smiled; but there were two who watched the speaker sternly and remained silent.

(To be continued.)

THE ADVENTURES OF A BOOK. AUTOBIOGRAPHY is, undoubtedly, one of the ruling characteristics of the present age, hence the numberless lives of individuals related by themselves. Persons, however, constitute not the whole range of the peculiar style of literature. Things inanimate have encroached within its limits, and, as if influenced by some enchanting touch, assumed the properties of life and narrated their own tales and adventures. is not uncommon to meet in print, the amusing trials of a stick, or some such article, told by itself. Possessed by the same magic power I have taken vitality, and thinking that

It

the travels of the first volume of a stirring novel would afford some interest to my unknown friends, I will endeavour, while life is allowed me, to record some of my vicissitudes.

To begin, then, I was born, or rather engendered, in the brains of some would-be-important personage. Like many others he had a severe visitation of that common plague of humanity," the itch of writing," and the result was, the composition of a novel, destined as the sanguine author imagined, to excite some lively interest among those of the reading world. After committing his thoughts to writing, he handed over, with the necessary money for defraying the expenses, his manuscript, to an eminent publisher and printer, and anxiously awaited the day which would usher into the world his three-volume novel. I dare say, most of iny readers will conjecture the ambitious hopes which filled the breast of my fame-seeking author. Time appeared to have been distressingly long, until he had the gratification of seeing his work issue from the press. Accompanied with a host of brethren, I made my first appearance in public beautifully bound and gilt. When the splendid figure I cut became known to me, I confess I entertained some notions of pride. But I may say, in common with many others, that my troubles commenced from my very infancy. While I was exulting at my good condition, cruelty and roughness in the form of a man disturbed my soaring thoughts. This merciless individual clutched me tenaciously between his hands, and elevating me from my lowered condition, placed me between two of my persecuted race in a position I thought no way comfortable. To add to my misery, I was then squeezed more tightly by a detestable cord, and flung into what they called a cart, and in a short time a sable cover was thrown over us, thus depriving me and my dear friends of our liberty and light. Soon after a tremendous noise was heard, as if made by the cracking of bones. The cart began to set out on its journey from the printing-office to the publisher's shop. Before was happiness, pleasure, and joy, compared to the excruciating sufferings we now endured. The magnificent covers which guarded my more delicate parts, were almost separated from me through the torturing jerkings of the hated vehicle. Though the time was short I spent in this pitiful situation, it seemed to me almost a century. I was extremely glad, though unacquainted with my future fate, when we arrived at the publisher's shop. But my rejoicing was soon converted to sorrow. Again was renewed that scene before mentioned. Some person who had neglected to clean his hands griped me fast by my darling covers, and after giving me an ugly squeeze to my great agony, introduced me to one of the shelves of the shop, which was to be for a time my future habitation. I enjoyed here, though heavily pressed, partial ease. When I was esconced in my new dwelling for a few seconds, I commenced taking a survey of the shop. After a time I was no way pleased with the inspection I had made. It never struck ine for an instant that I could be superseded in beauty. However, here my pride was somewhat humbled; books of every variety deluged the shop, and it was amusing, too, to note the contrast between them. Near a philosophic volume was placed a laughter-splitting tale, and side by side that treasure of all Christians-the Bible, a lascivious poem was conspicuous.

After inhabiting my domicile a few days, I perceived that several of our race had disappeared; and so we gradually decreased in numbers, and I every day expected my expulsion from the shop. One day, and a woeful day it was for me, a grey-headed gentleman accosted the shopman, and demanded three volumes near akin to me. On taking a cursory glance over their contents he became well pleased, and asked, to my inexpressible horror, for three of my own immediate race; and, this time, I, in company with two others, was thrown out of our dwelling-places to gratify his wish. We were then placed in the dark profundity of his carpet-bag; and here, too, I suffered most severely. Every now and then something

kept pushing against me, as if to push one of my covers out of the bag. This I afterwards discovered was a bottle of wine. While I was immerged in this darkness, I became extremely anxious to know my subsequent lot; being yet very fresh, and in good condition, I anticipated good treatment,

nor

was I disappointed. The silvery-headed gentleman having arrived home, placed me with my companions, in a neat and select library. On all sides I was surrounded by handsome fellow-prisoners. I thought now of enjoying an uninterrupted rest, but this I soon found was futile. I discovered that the old gentleman was no longer my proprietor; a young and handsome female, his daughter, had admired my title, and set me, with my two aforesaid brothers, apart for her own private library. After a few days spent in my new home I was carefully taken from my position, and my young mistress commenced reading my contents. I often remember with gratitude the kind and gentle manner in which she used me. It was now I discovered the use for which I was originally intended to be,--a slave to suit the pleasure of mankind. Withal, I possessed some influential qualities; I could stir up in the mind of my fair reader vague and romantic ideas. When poring over my contents, almost every passion passed by in succession in her breast; at one time her face became flushed, and her attention was rivetted to my pages. This I conjectured was on account of the hero who had met with some misfortune, or had been duped by the intrigning machinations of his malicious rival ; then would the most intense admiration fill her heart at some eventful epoch of the tale. Having finished reading my contents, her tongue, hitherto silent, found means to loosen the fetters which encompassed it. Exclamations of deight escaped her. "What a beautiful book!" "How true and faithful the hero!" Thus did she muse on, expressing her great pleasure. Her enthusiasm became such that she once more commenced reading my pages. She had not long continued thus engaged when she was interrupted. The dinner-bell was rung, aud she summoned to dine. Thus concluded my first interview with my young mistress. That I extremely pleased her there can be no doubt. I am confident that the main incidents recorded within my limits occupied her thoughts the remaining portion of the day, and, perhaps, delicious dreams of love and happiness assuaged her sleep. I must acknowledge, notwithstanding all this, that very few real benefits tending to improve her moral culture, were conferred upon her. Vain and foolish ideas crowded upon her mind. Every young male acquaintance of pleasing countenance and manners she selected as her Romeo, and childishly thought it a blessing on earth to pass through the troubles and crosses of Juliet, reserving to herself, however, a more pleasant dénouement. The time I spent in this situation was the happiest of my days. My near acquaintances, too, were well treated. Happiness seemed to smile on us. But, alas for the fickleness of earthly joy, I soon experienced a sad reverse. Time wrought a wondrous change on my fair reader's feeling, and soon I became what is called stale to her. The other two volumes of my race were lost either by negligence or theft. Colder and colder every day grew my hitherto fond mistress. I was now used in a somewhat rough manner, and rudely pushed aside for other more modern species of the book kind. My grief became now overwhelming, and disappointment rendered my days sad and dreary. I had cherished fondly the idea that I being the only volume left of my poor author, had some claims to her tenderness. This frail hope was cruelly frustrated. I was used more unkindly every day, until at length I was cruelly ejected from the library, and presented by my ungrateful mistress to her waiting-maid, as a token of her kindness. When parting from her I felt rather strange, and it occurred to me that I was not the only book which had been so badly done by. The waiting-maid treated me with a little more care. Although an odd volume, I had considerable influence over her. She always delighted in

poring over my pages, and often wished in vain the possession of the two succeeding volumes. Another of my qualities I here discovered. My second mistress, in lieu of minding her own particular affairs, stole quietly into some quiet corner, and perused my contents. There, hidden from view, she yielded to my potent influence. The titled lady whom she served was quite neglected for me, and she gave me good reasons to triumph; but, mournful to say, her indolence was discovered, and she was dismissed from her service for the extreme love she bore me. I still, nevertheless, remained attached to her, and when the other articles constituting her luggage were carefully packed up, I was in a very nice manner flung, making several gymnastic evolutions, into one of her trunks, much to the discomfiture of my lovely covers. This I conceived was no strong proof of her kindness, but a paltry exhibition of spite. Then I heard a loud noise, accompanied with a crash, and I was buried in total obscurity. In this entombed condition I remained for the space of six months. When next the day-light dawned upon me, I discovered I inhabited a different spot from my last home. A prominent part of the culinary department was allotted as my residence. However humbled, I was compelled to bear all patiently. My mistress, it seems, had engaged with a gentleman in rather good circumstances as a common servant. But her fatal attachment to me once more compelled her to leave. The work was badly done, and the master, in a most furious passion, trampled upon me, and bid her pack up and be off. She now returned to her parents, and presented me to her brother, a youth of sixteen. She deserted me now for ever. The youth was happy in possessing me. Naturally fond of stories, and of a romantic turn of mind, he felt himself enriched, and gazed on me with eyes which betokened admiration. I soon had the pleasure of enslaving my youthful master. Everything was forgotten when he launched himself into the wilderness of my contents. Even at his meals his eyes and sense were rivetted to my pages. His parents, noway fond of me, often prohibited him to indulge in the practice. But what did he care for their admonition? If he could not read me before them, he could find means to deceive them, but after all it was a deplorable case for me. A most lamentable accident occurred, rendering me almost useless for the remaining portion of my career. On a fine summer's afternoon, when the sun shone brightly, my friend was once more occupied with me, when of a sudden his father, in a most furious passion, rushed in, and seizing me unmercifully by the covers, plunged me two feet deep into the water; but I managed somehow or other to gain the surface, and there I lay for two hours. At length the wretch who so badly treated me rescued me from my painful position, and sullenly piled me among a heap of dirty newspapers, invoices, &c. Here I exercised my attractive powers. In a short time I drew to my already damaged covers plenty of dust, so that I became as bad as the other inmates of the lumber-room.

My career had ever been migratory, though not with my own consent, and now it was fast approaching its close. Short was my stay in this room. When completely dry, I, with my smutty neighbours, was encircled with cords, and conveyed to a neighbouring butter-shop, and disposed of at the rate of threepence per pound. O if my deluded author only knew this, how would he deplore the decay of literature among mankind! But truth compels me to state that I fear such is the fate of many of our race.

I was now seized by that all-destroying disease consumption. I gradually wasted away. First my covers were estranged from me, and consumed by fire. Leaves then began to be separated from me. I have not approached my end yet. I still linger, though in a woeful plight, in this detested buttershop. My tale told, and I must conclude. The magician's wand no longer hangs over me, and soon I must give up my vitality. I know it, and I acknowledge that I have done considerable harm to mankind. But do not think all our

THE CHURCH OF THE ORATORY, BROMPTON. [WE have not space for all W. P.'s fifteen stanzas, but give the following eight; they possess much promise, and breathe a deep tone of religious feeling.]

Dear home; when evening's shadows fall,
Forgetting care and the world's thrall;
To thee I come with tranquil mind,

True peace and holy joy to find.

And first, unto thy altar fair,
In the dim light do I repair;
Bending adoringly before

Him whom St. Anna's daughter bore.

Then to that loveliest Virgin form
(Of whom the Holiest was born)
My eyes and thoughts intently turn,
And from that picture sweet hope learn.

Next Father Philip claims my prayer
(With a strange awe) for his blest care;
That he would 'against his bosom press
Me, as of yore he did caress.

On with hush'd tread to Mary's shrine,
The Mother crowned with Son Divine!
Her mantle blue, so gently spread
Around that glorious infant's head.

Past the sad stations to the tree,
Where life embraced death for me:
Whilst by, with pierced soul, one stood
As she were wedded to that wood!
See the lonely Mary crying,
Whilst God's only son is lying,
But newly from the nails set free,
His death-chilled form rests on her knee!

Now all those ruddy fountains hush'd,
From which the saving currents gush'd;
And Mary's child is laid all bare,
For broken hearts to worship there.

A PLEA FOR THE POOR.

OH! look not with contemptuous eye
Upon God's chosen poor,

Nor turn with cold, relentless heart
The wretched from your door.
Remember that Christ's chosen friends,
Disciples tried and sure,

Could boast not of their high descent
They sprang from midst the poor.

And reader, think not that you cast
Your little mite away,

Or that your charity is lost

On worthless human clay;
For oh! we have the promise sweet
That nought we give is vain,
For even a single water-drop
Will be repaid again.

THE VOICE OF HOME. As an echo of love from realms above, As an angel's pure sweet guiding tone,

As the murmur low of a gentle dove,

P. CASTLES.

Is the distant voice of my own loved home.
It brings again my childhood's hour,
My girlhood's sunny time,

When the song of a bird in its own native bower,
Was ne'er carolled so gaily or freely as mine.

It brings again my mother's voice,

Her gentle, sweet, and earnest tone;
And its music lingers within my heart,
As an echo from the voice of home.

And when o'er the brightness and beauty of life,
The dark shadow of sorrow so rudely was thrown,
When weary and tired of my heart's bitter strife,
Peace came with the voice of my own loved home.
As music soft from the shadow-land,
Where happy spirits roam,

As murmurs sweet from an angel-band,
Is the distant voice of my own loved home.
CHARLOTTE LAW.

MEN will have the same veneration for a person who suffers adversity without dejection, as for demolished temples, the very ruins whereof are reverenced and adored.

RUINS OF THE ABBEY OF COOLLATIN. THE venerable ruins of the Abbey of Coollatin (which the beautiful engraving on the opposite page illustrates), are situated in the southern part of the county of Wicklow, which is not only the most romantic county in Ireland, being richly adorned with the beauties of Nature, but is also the locality in which may be found the ruins of "The Seven Churches," and many other hallowed memorials of religion. Coollatin, the property of the Earl Fitzwilliam, is situated about four miles from Tinahely, near the woods of Shillelah. These woods furnished the timber for St. Patrick's Cathedral, in Dublin, and for the roof of Westminster Hall. They were considerably thinned in 1634, by the Viceroy Strafford, who was afterwards executed in England. The Abbey dates back to the reign of Henry III. in the thirteenth century. Most of the religious houses in the county of Wicklow were of the Franciscan Order.

To our Correspondents.

ANSWERS to several correspondents in the next number; also, letters, &c.

AGENTS for the Lamp wanted. Applications (stating references) should be made without delay.

OUR readers will see that we have commenced (as promised) to give a portion of the Benedictine Directory each week.

The Lamp.

CATHOLIC YOUNG MEN'S SOCIETIES.

LETTER OF THE VERY REVEREND DR. O'BRIEN.

I Do not think that I could better inaugurate the New Series of the Lamp than by placing as the "leader" of the first number the following beautiful letter, of which the highest praise which could be pronounced is, that it is worthy of its distinguished author. Dr. O'Brien, with his usual force of language, strength of reasoning, and felicity of illustration, powerfully depicts the great blessings which must result from the Young Men's Societies, if they be not allowed to sink to be the schools of mere human teaching, and if the members remain true to the glorious principles which called the organization into being, and bereft of which it ought to die-the principles of Religion, Peace, Union, and brotherly Love.

As I shall on an early occasion devote some space to a most pleasing recollection of a visit to my kind friends at Oldham, I shall now only add that the letter is appropriately addressed to Father Conway, than whom there does not live a clergyman more zealously devoted to the good cause. JAMES BURKE.

All Hallows College, near Dublin. MY VERY DEAR FATHER CONWAY,-I congratulate you and the brothers of Oldham on the progress which you have made, and on the bright example the Young Men's Society of Oldham continues to give in a cause so important as that of religious and literary improvement. The arrangements for your lectures have been of the most effective character, and I have reason to know that your classes are continually creating the power and taste which will supply you not only with hearers, but with lecturers.

I have had an account of your "General Communion," and was not surprised at the great number who attended, nor at the great edification the spectacle afforded. From the beginning you proceeded on the principle of making God your leader and your end, and God, as is usual with His providence, has proved that any hoping in Him will not be confounded.

Among the natural causes of the success of the society in Oldham, however, has been the spirit of carnestness and faith with which you and yours engaged and persevered in the work. To suppose that machinery will act without a moving power, or that it will act well without a motive power, is a serious mistake, into which you have not fallen. You and the Oldham brothers have now a portion of your reward. By beginning well, you obtained many inestimable advantages; and, by perseverance in "work,” you have multiplied those advantages many times over. The fourth part of the industry at the beginning will now produce double the result which could have been then obtained.

It is plain that our societies can be made, nay, in many cases have been made, regular colleges for working men, and the deficiencies of early education can be remedied by our schools and lecture halls. Yet I hope and pray that religious and social training may always be the presiding object. The lecture-hall may refine the tastes of a good man, and may shed many charms over the domestic circle; but it makes the bad man pretentious, and renders his bad principles and bad