ill
1)11
in
1 .
THE BLESSINGS OF GOVERNMENT, t.tttf. THE DEWS OF HEAVEN, SHOULD BE DISTRIBUTED ALIKE UPON" THE HIGH AND THE LOW, THE BICH AND THE POOR.
NEW SERIES.
EBENSBURG, MAY 2, -1855.
VOL. 2. NO. 29.
TERMS:
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From the Sunday Dispatch.
' TEE PRIEST ALTHE PAIBTEH.
A STORY FROM THE FRENCH.
BY K. KARDIX ASDBKW8.
CHAPTER I.
It was in Paris, in the year 1724. At that
lime there stood at one end of ''la Rue St.
Andre Des Art"," loftj building of a som
bre and unpretending appearance. The lower
part of the edifice was occupied as a vegeta
ble and fruit store; the upper rooms by a
young artist and his wife ; with a number of
ingle people principally students of law and
medicine, who had lodging apartments merely
and resorted to some cafe in the neighbor
hood for the necessary food for their daily
aubsietence These parties usually left quite
arly in the morning and did not return
gain until quite late in the evening. Hence
the windows of the building were generally
kept closed, except those of the fourth story,
which was the part occupied by . the artist
and his little family. It was the painter's
wont, likewise, to quit his premises about
ight o'clock every morning for his atelier in
distant part of the city, where he usually
remained at Borne professional employment
daring the light of the day: After he had
quitted his home, a neat and handsome young
woman might be seen bustling about the
apartments, engaged in shaking carpets, wat-.
ring the flowers in the earthen pots of the
window, or feeding a number of canaries in a
-cage, that was always suspended on the out
aide wall in pleasant weather. When she had
gone through with these little domestic avo
cations, she would arrange her lsair and robe
herself in come becoming dress, wat herself
by the ci"?rn?i:t. end give her assiduous at
tention to her embroidery or other needle
work, during the many long hours her hus
band would be absent from her side. She
seemed ever happy and joyous, like to the
et birdi themselves, and. not unfrequently
heard to sing and mingle the melody of
her own sweet voice with the thrilling c'aden- i
ees of their tiny throats.
On one occasion, when her husband re
mained longer away than usual from his j
borne, she was observed to become quite rest
less and uneasy at his protracted stay. The
little clock in the room had' struck the hour
of five, and the plain repast for herself and
husband had already stood in waiting for a
full half hour or more, eke took up her
work again to beguile away the time ere her
beloved one would appear. Bat it was plain
to see that her thoughts were not on her em
broidery. They wandered to the h?ar part
ner of all her joys and sorrows, if indeed her
ombre feelings had ever a lodgment fur a
single moment in her besom. Suddenly she
threw down her work, displaced a few of her
f ower-pets, leaned orst upon the window-sill,
and sought to discover among the multitude
who thronged the great thoroughfare, the
manly form of her absent lord. Nor had she
long to wait. Her quick keen eye soon per
ceived him in the distance, rapidly hasteniug
toward their dwelling. Now she gaily waved
ber handkerchief, which signal was quickly
responded to by a light-footed handsome
voung man, on the opposite side of the street.
In an instant more, he bounded to the top of
the stairs and affectionately clasped his young
wife in his arms. After a few playful sallies
the Happy pair partook of their evening meal,
and then entered on a thousand pleasing pro
jects and anticipations for the future Thus
passed their days. If the weather was one,
they would visit the theatre, or stroll to the
Luxemburg and other places of publio and
fashionable roaort. If the season was incle
ment, the husband would read aloud to his
wife, or play some favorite airs on his lute,
while she would ly her needle till it was time
to retire for the night. 'V
Though their hearts were full of love for
ach other, their happiness, however, had
been accompanied by many deprivations and
disappointments of various kinds. He con
fined to apply himself diligently to his pro
fession; yet he remained poor, very poor,
and oftentimes was without the bread "neces
sary for the subsistence of himself and wife.
Besides these, ho had other troubles Vib fa
ther had opposed, and still remained unrecon
ciled to him, on account of his union with a
young maiden whoso only fortune was her
beauty and ber goodness of heart.
After two years of poverty and trials, all
impediments to their prosperity and happiness
were removed. The father was reconciled to
his son, and died, leaving him a few hundred
livres. With this little resource every day
brought new employment to occupy and re-
ey the young artist for his toil and genius.
. a be can to rise rapidly in his profession.
while bis celebrity was greatly increased by
the purchase of a fine painting by the king.
His wife soon presented him with their first
born child. It was a beautiful cherub boy
The blissful cup of the wedded pair overflow
a, and there seemed nothing needed to aug
ment the finest and noblsst transports of their
Brar, A lovely son, an affeotionats wifs,
a devoted husband, and pecuniary resources
in sufficient abundance, were a combination
of favorable circumstances to be envied and
desired by all young people just starting forth
in the great race, of human life Blissful
hours, however, are likely to prove evanescent
The sun cannot always shine out in its reful
gent glory ; there must needs be the thunder
and the storm. As in the physical, so in the
moral world The sunshine of joy and peace
often gives place: to tears of anguish and
clouds of sorrow and distress. Sickness at
leugth visited the abode of the artist. Ho left
home one morniDg joyous and " buoyant in
health and life. He returned home in the
evening with a slow and feeble step from the
incipient effects of a disease that already lurk
ed in his blood, and now threatened rapidly
to overthrow his mental and physical powers.
Pale and trembling, he would have fallen at
the street door of his home, had not his ever
dutiful and watching wife espied his approach
from an upper window, and flew down the
stairway on the wings of fear and love, to his
assistance. It was with great difficulty she
supported him up the stairs to a couch in
their apartment;
44 Oh, my dear husband, what is this that
aileth you ? You seem weak and look so
deathly pale 1 Oh, my God I what has hap
pened ? Speak speak, husband and let me
know the worst." ' .
44 I am ill very ill, wife. I choke for
want of air. Ope open the casement. I suf
focate and and I mut die !"
' No! no! say not that! You must not
shall not die ! Oh, my God ! what will be
come of me and our poor child ? Tell me-
oh, say you are better, Antoine my dear
husband, my life, my all !"
She darted to the window and threw open
wide the shutters, when there rushed in a
current of fresh air from the street, which
speedily seemed to have a revivifying influ
ence upon the invalid.
He gasped, and essayed to speak, but could
not
" The air is cool and pure. There, you
breathe easier, my husband. Speak." and tell
me of this strange sickness. How did it come
on ? and how were you engaged when the
spell so violently seized you ?"
"I first felt a tremor in my limb3. A pain
shot through my brain, a cloud came over my
eyes, my brush fell from my hands, and I
fell in spasms to the floor. It was about the
hour of noon when it occurred. I became
insensible, and remained a long time in that
state. When I recovered, I realized that
something awful had happened, aud groped
my way home as well as I was able. Water
water ! my wife ! My blood is all on fire !
31y head swiuis round J sink again -I cute
ly now niust die ?"
The startled wife waited to hear no more.
She flew out of the room, and in a few mo
ments returned with the physician, who hap
pened to be at home, at his residence, a few
doors np the street. - ..
The artist had again been seized with con
vulsions, and lay extended on the floor, groan
ing and frothing at the mouth, as in an epi
leptic fit. It was some time before he recov
ered and was able to give the Doctor an intel
ligible account of the symptoms of his malady.
The physician looked grave and shook his
head, manifesting, by so doing, hia appreheu- ,
sion that the disease was of a very serious
nature, if, indeed, it should not prove speedily
fatal.
" 13 there danger, Doctor ?" inquired the
alarmed and anxious wife.
"Danger! yes, there is always danger in
such cases. But but while there is life there
is hope. Keep courage, uiadame. I think
the worst is past with your husband; give
him these powders. They may quiet, his
nerves and ocol the fiver of his biood."" If so,
all will go well. I will return in the morn
ing. Adieu."
The Doctor was not very courteous in his
manners, while his language seemed to mauy
unnecessarily curt and harsh. He waa, how
ever, a very skillful practitioner, and given to
no species of deception toward his patients
when the symptoms really appeared to him
alarming or dangerous. He thought it best
for the sick to know the worst in. every seri
ous case of disease.
It ie always a sad and solemn thing to
watch by the couch of fever and pain More
particularly sorrowful is it, when the invalid
is some dearly loved one a parent, a hus
band, a wife, or child -sufcring from a thou
sand horrid visions of the brain, and tortured
and racked literally to pieces in body, from
it virnlno titxA violence of mental and phys
ical infirmity. And to be the sole and only
watcher by the bedside of anguish and dis
ease in the dark and silent hours of the night,
with no sounds save the stifled breathings and
moans of the sick and dying, and none to aid
the watcher in any emergency of despair and
death oh, such vigils might well appal and
confound the stoutest and sternest of human
hearts! Such were now the trials of the ar
tist's wife. Raging was the fever and terri
ble were the writhings from pain, which her
husband experienced, during the hours of that
long, and. seemingly never-ending night to
her. He remained incapable of speech and
without the power of motion by the hand to
Erove to his wife that he was sensible of her
indnesa and faithfulness to him. How knew
she that the sharp and quick breathings were
not the death-rattles in her husband's throat ?
1Iow could she hope that the dawn of day
would not find her weeping over the inanimate
corpse of him she held dearest of all things on
earth oven dearer than ber own Ufa itself
when she heard his, dismal meanings and
heratf? YaCant 6krinS of tia eyes upon
Morning came apace on leaden wings. The
death-like stillness of the night was succeeded
by a brilliant rising of the sun, and the usual
bustle of the pleasures and business of the
people of the mighty city. : Faithful to his
promise, the physician made his appearance.
He found his patient much better, butperoeiv-
ed that the night of watchful anguish had
made a frightful impression upon the counte
nance of the young wife.
"Madam," said he, 44 1 discern that the
past uight has been one of deep distress and
anxiety to you. Sleep has not visited yonr
eyes, nd you are now quite ill yourself from
the. effects of your vigil. Your husband is
in a favorable condition at present, though
his malady is far from being removed His
fever is subdued and by the exercise of a lit
tle precaution his delirium will not return.
Rest and quietness may probably restore him
to a state of convalescence and health Mean
while you most not over-task your own strength
your mind should be kept as free! from per
turbation as' possible Mix this medicine .and
cive it to vour husband It will make him
sleep. Then take some food yourself and
seek repose." i " -
. As the Doctor predicted, the sick artist soon
fell into a sweet and pleasing slumber ; but
his wife, though ber eyes were heavy , and she
was broken down by fatigue, would not per
mit herself to be thrown off her watchful
guard by the side of her husband for a single
moment. Her misery, however, gave way to
tears, which served, in some degree, to re
lieve the oppression which weighed down her
spirits.
She thought of heT boy. He had been put
away in the charge of a stranger, and the
nurse was that very day to bring the prattler
home. The idea lit up a ray of sunshine
upon her countenance, and the cloud of sor
row was chased away therefrom for awhile
" My poor child returns to his home" at an
unpropitious time," she said. "No, not at
an unseemly season. My husband and child
will be here together with me. The sight of
the child will purely cheer my stricken hus
band. No father can remain insensible to the
voice of his child, however burning up with
fever or racked by disease. He will soon
get better. I will put little Charles in his
arms; he will fondle him, and we shall all be
happy so very happy again !"
; At that moment she heard the nurse com
ing up the stairs wi h her darling boy. She
snatched him from her arms, and fairly smoth
ering him with ber kisses, laughed and cried
alternately, in the joy she experienced. The
artist awoke from hid slumber, languidly
stretched out his hands, blessed his son, and
restored him again to his mother The over
joyed woman could only sink down on her
knees and raise her eyes in acknowledgment
of her gratitude to Heaven.
' CHAPTER II. '
Protracted was the illness of the painter.
Though he no longer Buffered from the con
vulsions and delirium of the fever, it was
many days before the physician would allow
him to arise from his bed. The medicines
that he had taken greatly reduced his physical
strength, rendering him, in fact, quite help
less, so as to require almost the constant care
of his wife. With his prostration, the means
for their Bttpport were rapidly lessened, till
finally they ran outaTtogether. This made
him impatient and fretful at times, and added
to the perplexities of his wife. It now seemed
that day after day only opened up new sour
ces of distress. - New wants and new sorrows
were multiplied, till the mind of the young
wife and mother bordered on desperation itself,
llow true it is that mental agony is oftentimes
less endurable than the very tortures of the
rack to the body. And now this irri ation
was not likely to be soothed, in the fever aud
paiu which her infant suffered from destitution
ilis cries were iucesscnt, so that father and
mother both might have imagined they suffer
ed the pangs of purgatory itself, had they
entertained a belief in the Catholic religion.
If the child slept, and the groans of the hus
band did not jar upon the sensitive nerves of
the wife, yet despair was always there to pain
her heart. Poverty was torturing her very
soul She had parted with her furniture al
ready, and such of her clothing as she could
spare, to procure the indespensabJe necessaries
of life At lensrth all resources of mainten
ance were entirely cut off. She owed the
shopkeeper for food, and that worthy would
no longer trust her even for a gill of milk for
her child. For hunger, and exbaustation,
sickness of body and mind, who was there to
proffer relief? None I '
Previous to the artist's illness, he had not
thought of providing for the morrow. They
lived up to their income content, like the
birds of heaven, with the blessings of the
transient hoar. Two days passed away with
out food for the helpless family, and they knew
of none to whom to apply for assistance. The
babe became greatly emaciated from the lacjc
of nourishment while the artist languished
for the want of the medicaments which the
apothecary was unwilling to supply without
the money. What was the wife to do ? Her
husband, child and herself, seemed ready- to
perish, and yet ho helping hand was stretch
ed forth to their succor and salvation.
: The artist one day awoke from a restless
slumber, and asked his wife for a cup of water.
The infant was then resting in her arms, en
joying its only repose since the day beforo, and
she dared not stir, for fear of waking him and
.renewing his cries and fretfulness.
"Angelique! Angelique? I choke with
thirst. Give me a drink.''
"Yes, love, directly. Our boy sleeps upon
my knee ; Do not disturb him now." . ,
44 And I must suffer and parch with fever 1
Oh. Angelique, you love me not to abandon
me thus." ,.
; 44 Merciful ieaven f What am I to do ?
The cries of the babe are about to recommence.
My child my child!"
The husband essayed to speak , t his voice
was entirely inaudible. Thei. was a grasping
for breath, then a sort of rattlr in his throat
when he sunk into a swe a. .' - -
44 Angelique qT xly arose to I 's relief, but
the movement sta..' d the c H sni its slum
ber when it utter&a ;- ok -cin cries.
She was compelled U, uv.U it Li L. rrvan, and
waa unable to apply any restorativss toker
husband had there indeed been any at hand.
At length he slowly recovered from, the
fainting spell, and signed to his wife to re
move the child. 4 4 His cries distract my brain,"
said. he. as he passed his attenuated hand
across his brows. 44 Give me a drink, Ange
lique ; I choke with thirst."
Alas J There remained not a single drop of
gruel In the boisl, which thepcor woman had
involuntarily seized and held convulsive in her
grasp. , -
The babe began to scream. ,
44 Oh my head my head I - Must I suffer
in this way, Angelique? Why will you not
remove the braL d give me to drink ? I am
thirsty," rerjf thirsty, and will perish unices I
have Mine moisture for my throat"
44 There is nothing in the house that I can
give," replied tba wife, as she sought to quiet ,
the cries of the child.
44 Ah is this your forethought, Angelique?
I am dying with thirst, and you have nothing
fcy offer me ! Oh God ! When shall my suffer
ings cease?" - -
"Calm yourself, husband! I will get you
something, dearest ! get it immediately." 1
She started and descended the stairs with
no fixed purpose in her mind, save that she
would obtain the succor required some way or
other. She did not know where to go for food
or drink. . On arriving in the street, and
seeking the keeper of the fruit shop, she could
only weep, and in this manner eloquently
plead the miserable fate to which herself aud
family, were now reduced. The despair depic
ted in hej countenance and "the suffering ap
pearance of the puling infant she held in her
arms, epokc a language which the old crone
could not resist. Her stony heart was touched
with compassion, and she instantly gave the
poor woman a pot of milk and a bountiful
supply of herbs and fruits. Angelique sob
bed out her thanks to the benevolent donor,
and quickly re-mounted the stairs to the cham
ber of her afflicted husband. "
The act had Jbeen observed by an aged
priest, who happened to be passing by at the
moment. He was struck with the unhappy
appearance of the artist's wife, and from her
taitered raiment, , that hers was an extreme
case of misery and destitution ne was
pleased with the charitable feeling of the shop
keeper, though he has found, on questioning
her m regard to the subject of her charity, that
she had opened her heart to some sudden
promptings of humanity rather than from the
natural kindliness of her disposition. The
holy father, indeed, could get very little in
formation from her concerning the artist and
his family. ' He learned enough, however, to
interest his feelings and provoke a desire to
inquire into the circuuisUuices of the destitute
family, on their own premises, and from their
own lips. Accordingly he ascended the stairs,
and knocked at the door which stood ajar, as
Aogelique had left it when she entered. A
voice within bade him 44 come in," and the
priest approached and stood by the couch of
the stricken painter.
The artist, lifting up his eyes, and perceiv
ing a Catholic priest standing by his side,
frowned angrily and demanded somewhat im
periously : .
44 Why are you here, sir? I am a Protes
tanty and desire not the consolation of religion
from
the lips of a Catholio priest.
Be
igone,
sir;
44 Nay, nay, my dear sir. You are a man
and a brother, and surely you will not refuse
assistance from wny source now in your hour
of peril and need ! What matters it whether
relief comes from the hands of a Catholic or a
Protestant, provided you are relieved ? I
loam that your physician has not visited you
those several days. I am somewhat skilled in
medicine, aud perhaps may be able to restore
you to beaith aud strength v" said the priest,
in a very bland and graceful manner.
44 Pardon- me, sir. I was impulsive and
rude in my manners and speech. Forgive me,
sir ; I knew not that your mission here was so
full of mercy and lovo," rejoi led the artist,
tendering his hand to the priest.
44 Euouirh,"said the father, 44 wenownnder-
0and each other, and will be friends hereaf
ter." v
He felt the artist's pulse, examined his
tongue, and made some special pathological
examination. 5 ' "
44 1 think you are no longer dangerously ill.
You will soon recover your usual health and
strength." -
The priest did not seem to be aware that he
was in an abode of extreme poverty, and that
it was stripped of every piece of furniture save
a stool or two and the miserable truckle-bed
upon which the sick man reclined ; but pro
ceeded to prescribe a regimen and a . course
of medicine, as if be was administering to a
patient inhabiting a palace.
Antoine could not refrain from smiling at
the remarks of the holy man, and was about
to murmur something about the impossibility
of obtaining the articles proposed, or pursuing
the treatment advised. The priest, however
checked what was passing in the artist's mind,
by adding
4 4 When you recover, we shall want you to
execute a painting for our con vent. I presume
you will not object to render the service re
quired? You shall have five hundred louisas
your price, and here are now two hundred
gold livres on account. In a day or two I
will bring the remainder of the money. Be
of good cheer, my son. , You will get well ;
and may Heaven bless and guard you here
after' He turned to the artist's, wife and con
tinued 44 The illness of your husband, I per
ceive, has served to exhaust your physical
powers, and to depress sadly your spirits.
YoU require some one to assist you. You
must have repose.-, I can recommend to you
a capable person to engage about the house
and in the care "f your child. I will send her
hithef as I go a my .way to St. Sulspice.
I must leave you. ..Aiieu." ! '
. The priest v - -one. . The stricken fami
ly bad no oppou -ity to tL-nk him for his
providential interference in their behalf. The
woman wfcom the priest said he would send
to them soon made her appearance, and the
babe was left in her charge, while the artist's
wife went forth to purchase new furniture for
the apartment. In a few hours,, the rooms were
restored to -a degree of neatness and comfort
admirable to behold. The child slept in the
lap of the assistant, which caused the hearts
of the painter and his wife to be filled with
hope and joy. "
CHAPTER HI. -Long
before the priest arrived at the Chvrch
de St. Sulspice, it became thronged with an
eager and impatient multitude of people.
There were gathered the rich and the poor,
with larg numbers of the .nobility, whose
splendid equipages fcurrouuded the temple of
Jehovah, with thur lacqueys in rich livery
and servile regalia. The occasion seemed one
of extraordinary interest. It was not alone
the zealous believer in the Catholic faith, but
tho uf ands of gay people, whose motive in be
ing there was one of curiosity rather than de
votion. At length the priest hastened along the
s treet, and crowded his way amid the throng
of carriages and the living mass, till he enter
ed the church and reached the pulpit, almost
breathless and covered with dust and perFpira
tion. . The impatience of the poople at his Ions
delay bad begun to be expressed in murmurs
of dissatisfaction and disapprobation; but now
there was a speedy silence, and every eye and
ear was btmt to see and hear the speaker.
The priest calmly wipc-d the drops from his
brow, advanced to the desk of the pulpit, and
in 6weet and impressive tones uttered the words
of the Psalmist:
44 Re has filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich he has tent empty a tray "
Whether there was anything in the mere
words of the text, or the peculiar manner in
which they were pronounced, there was a
thrill and a hum of voices, like the rustling of
the wings of many birds, throughout the en
tire church, for a few seconds, when all again
was silent as the grave. The eager priest
then commenced that famous exordium of the
Abby Maury, s" generally esteemed as one of
the most eloquent sermons ever delivered to
any people in the world.
44 In appearing before an audience so nume
rous and so intelligent as the present," he be
gan, 4,on any other occasion, my heart might
be filled with pride, and my soul with self
grattlation and vanity. As it is, however, I
feel that I am but as the humblest of the hum
ie, and among the weakest of the weak. Yes,
my brethren, I feel that I am only a poor,
miserable sinner, like all who have gone astray
from God, and worthy of his wrath and eternal
condemnation. I feel that I am destitute of
the udents and abilities requisite to reach the
sensibilities of the gay aud thoughtless multi
tude within the souud of my voice. I feel that
I ought not to speak unless it be to ask your
indulgence for a poor missionary like myself.
Oh, my brethren, I bare seen that to-day which
has imparted to my bosom everything averse
to pomposity and vain-glory. If I am humili
ated, it is at the paltriness and presumption
of the race of man Yet God is not williDg
that any of his servants should slacken in their
duty to arouse mankind to a sense of their lost
condition without repentance and atonement
of their sins thrrugh the precious blood of
Christ, the Saviour. You are all sinners like
myself, and it is only to Iim, your God, and
my God, that I am to bow. I have gone
through the land, and preached God's mercy
aud justice to the" poor aud to the rich ; yt;t I
have not done the half that I should have done
in the great cause of faith, love and charity.
Wretch, that I am ! what have I not omitted
in my ministrations among the low and mis
erable of humanity ? Have f sincerely taught
the holy precepts of our blessed religion, and
preached repentance to unfortunate beings
with the ftrver and power becoming the sol
emn calling of my office ? I have seen the
poor, those best friends of God. despised and
des . oiled on every hand by the proud and lord
ling of men, and yet have failed to rebuke
them with the thunder tones of Heaven's right
eous indignation 1 I have seen the pure and
the faithful, whom I should have pitied and
consoled, driven by terror and cruelty to the
verge of hopeless despair, and yethave turned
upon them a deaf ear and closed my eyes to
their complaints of helplessness and wretched
ness. Ana here, in this very church, I now
see before me many of these noble and wealthy
oppressors of humanity sinners of most har
dened audacity that they are I It is here, then,
my duty must be done. It is here, amid so
many offenders, that my voice must ring in
thunder-tones in the ears of the vile and guil
ty. It is here, from this pulpit, that I must
declare the judgments of God upon all who
are without repentance and hope in the im
maculate Redeemer. God will surely judge
you all the just and the unjust Tremble,
proud man, for the share of mercies and fa
vors that have been " granted to you. Death
is certain! And after death, that dreadful
day-the day of the last jaJgnieut-will inev
itably overtake us alll Oh, roybrethern.how
few the number of the righteous that will be
saved! ... How many of the sinners that will be
cast into hell, to all eternitv! You stand up
on the brink, even now, of everlasting burn
ing! Oh, flee flee to the Lamb of God, and
be saved?"
Tb speaker ceased his speech, and stood
like a very angel of warning and light in his
pulpit The audianco were perfectly electri
fied by the terror of his words and theeloquent
majesty of their deliverance from his inspired
lips. Tho shafts of remorse seemed to pene
trate many a conseience-and many were the
tears which fell from the eyes of the wealthy
and proud of heart in that swaying and agita
ted audiance.
The preacher continued;
'Within this very hour, God placed in my
way a family stricken down with sickness, hun
ger and dcf-pair. There was the father on a
bed of anguish and pain-a wife exhausted from
fatigue and the lack of food, with a dear sweet
child literally dying for nourishment that was
not to be obtained fmcs its helpless parontt.
And yptthat poor man, from a vain respect
for the formalities of the world, would Lava
turned me, the wrvnrt of Crist, away, and
perished fr bread! He was uiiable to arn,
and unwilling to beg, food; while binmlf atid
family were ready to die in order to humor
the arrogance aud cruelty of the proud aud
rich! What have you lpn doing, ye rich!
and guilty ones, that ve Lave not visited the
cLambers of affiictinn and d&th? that you
Lave not succoied the helpless and relieved the
bungrr and sorrows of the widow and the fa
therless? Prostrate yourself, I sy, before
the great God of Heaven, and plead for bis
pardon, that his anger may not overthrow you
even now, and overwLelm you utterly in per
dition when the last trump of judgment shall
spread dismay and terror to the universe!
Haste! save your 60uls while there is yet time.
Let not the anathema, 4 Accursed! accursedr
be your doom. There is but one way to ap
pease that Judge, who holds your fate in his
Lands. It is to give of your abundance to the
poor. Give! go give at once. lest ye sudden
ly perish! How are you to expect that pity
from the Most High which you withhold from
your brother man? Oh, haste ye then, my
brotbern, to do all manner of good works.
The forty days allowed to the Prophet of Nia
evch may be denied to you. Now is the hour
for repentance. To-morrow, to-day, even a
single instant, may call you from the scenes of
time to the dread realities of eternity?"
The holy father sank down on his knees,
buried his face in, his hands, and remained
some minutes in fervent meditation and prayer.
Hisaddresshad done its work. Onrisingfiom
his supplications, there stood before him an ea
ger crowd stretching forth their hands filled
with silver and gold, among them many fe
males who had torn the jewels from their per
sons, all ready to cast their riches into the
treasury of Leaves . Fifty thousand livres
were speedily placed at the disposal of the
Eriest, ere the multitude dispersed to their
omcs. The money was deposited in a plao
of security in the church, with the exception
of the sum of one thousand ecus, which the
father designed as an appropriation to the sick
artist, toward whoe abode he presently bent
his steps. Suddenly, however,- he changed
his course, aud took the road in the direction
of Versailles. . .
CHAPTER IV.
Man proposes but God disposes. The ser
mon preached by the holy father at the Church
of St Sulspice was far different from the ona
he had previously resolved in Lis mind to
preach on the memorable occasion of which
we have spoken. He ws a missionary, renown
ed throughout France for his unaffected piety
ana reiu&ritauie plainness oi speecc asa cratc
rleal powers. It was a high festival "day, ia
commemoration of some distinguished saint in
the calender of the Catbolfo Church, and th
venerable Father Dupasseur had been an
nounced as the orator who should harangue
the people and discourse on the transcendent
attributes of the canonized saint. The priest
had careftilly elaborated all the saint4 virtues
in his own mind, and was fullly prepared to
descant upon them iu the choicest and most
glowing terms of language; while such was his
great fame for -eloquence and wisdom, if not
eccentricity of character, in fact, that the
Curch of St Sulspice became thronged with an
ager multitude to hear him preach long be
fore the hour appointed for the ceremonies of
the occasion. 11 ence their impatience at tha
delay of the priest, whom .Providence delayed
on his way by calling him to the bedside of
the sk-k artist, as has been already detailed.
The impression left on his mind, on viewing
the distresses of the afflicted and impoverished
family, drove all thoughts of his original ser-"
men entirely from bis mind, and induced him
to substitute in its place the powerful impromtu
charity crmjn we have so feelly attempted to
repeat and portray. It waa a sermon entire
ly without premeditation, God Laving put tha.
text and worf the discourse, as the pr,est .
himself afterwwils stud, iDto his month only
when he had entered the pulpit of tho Church
of St Sulspice. It was a sermon, however,
which not only reached the consciences and
the pockets of the immense audience calhtred
in luecuurcn, dui one wuicu was the general
theme of conversation in Paris for a long time
afterwads. Indeed, it was the epoch of a most
remarkable exhibition of charity and good
works by all classes of the inhabitants of tho
great city. . The poor and the sick wer.
sought after, and ti;eir necessities relieved, as
by the spontaneooa sympathy of the cntir
people. The contagion of benevolence, ia
sooth, reached the throne itself, and Lou's XV,
and his court seemed emulous to outdo all others
in founding hospitals and numerous charitabls
institution?, for the especial benefit of the chil-'
dren of toil and affliction in all the districts
and cities ofJ-Yance..
Meanwhile Father Dupasseur pursued ths
usual quiet tenor of his way. He kept bis
own thougts and purposes to himself, and did
not choose to blazon his performance of good
works from the housetops and public highways
to receive the admiration and praise of his
folio w-men. It has been remark ed of persons
who give their attention solely to some great
ends, that they often seem morose and churlith
to an offensive degree, whereas such traits are
entirely foreign to their natures, and may be
accounted for ou the supposition that such per
sons are so entirely abstracted from all objects
in the world aa to be capable of perceiving and
appreciating only the one grjnd idea upper
most in their minds On the other hand
there is sometimes observed a species of child
ish weakness, if not idiotic simplicity, in many
persons, solely at variance with their pro
found learning and the natural austerity of
their characters. They are influenced bj
some sublime monomania
as it wea, whic
cannot be diverted by t
of the world. . r
;ty disU&ctionS
Father Dupaweur v .V-? one of th
latter class. Other grt.Uci have been pos
sessed of similar weakness aad" peculiarities. -Tha
great Cardinal Richelieu would ,iu?V
(ccyoirrxs ow tottbih tass )