Chapter IV: The Midnight Adventure (2)

_The merciful._ There is nothing our Lord tells us so often and so plainly as this--that to obtain mercy from God we must ourselves be merciful. If we wish Him to judge us kindly and to forgive our many faults, we must be forgiving and kind. “Be merciful,” He says, “as your Heavenly Father is merciful.” He tells us that at the Last Day He will say “Come” to those who have been merciful to others for His sake, and “Depart from Me” to those who have been unmerciful to the poor and needy, and therefore to Him. For what we do to His least brethren He counts as done to Himself. If, then, we want to hear His sweet invitation on that dreadful Day, we know how to secure it--“Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.”

_The clean of heart._ The reward and the joy of the next life is to see God. There are many joys in Heaven--freedom from pain and care, the delights of the glorified body, the society of the Angels and Saints, reunion with those we loved on earth. But all these are as nothing compared with the Vision of God. It is this that makes Heaven what it is. Without this all the rest would not satisfy us. But to see the All Holy God we must be holy. In Heaven all are clothed with white robes, and the nearer the approach to the Great White Throne, the more dazzlingly white is the raiment. We must be getting ready to join that spotless throng. How? By taking as much pains to keep our soul free from stain as we do to prevent soiling our dress when we go along a miry road; by shunning with care all mortal sin and deliberate venial sin; by being careful in our examination of conscience, and often cleansing our soul in the Sacrament of Penance, and by frequent acts of contrition. If we do this we shall be among the clean of heart, and one day we shall see God.

_The peacemakers._ “Some there are who are neither at peace with themselves nor suffer others to be at peace. And some there are who keep themselves in peace and study to restore peace to others.” Gladness goes with these peacemakers; they turn aside little words and jokes that would give pain, and come among us like our Blessed Lord, whose favorite word of greeting was, “Peace be to you.” They are so like their Father who is in Heaven that they deserve to be called in a special way His children.

_The persecuted._ If our Lord had not told us these are blessed, should we ever have guessed it? To be persecuted seems such a terrible thing, and so indeed it is unless we can bring ourselves to think more of Him for whose sake we suffer than of the suffering itself. Perhaps we may have known the quiet happiness of being by the side of one we loved who was in pain. The thought that our presence and our sympathy soothed that dear one was greater joy than any pleasure to be found elsewhere. Something like this is the gladness those have even now who for our Lord’s sake are hated and persecuted. They know that if they are like Him in His suffering they will be like Him one day in His glory. Are they not blessed then?

III

reverent amazement revenge deceive
riveted congregation poverty beatitudes

And now let us stop awhile to look at our dear Master and His hearers. The Twelve are listening with reverent and fixed attention, their eyes riveted on His blessed face. The people gaze at Him in amazement and delight. They have been taught to hate their enemies, to seek revenge, to think that poverty and suffering are the signs of God’s anger, that an abundance of corn and wine and cattle are the rewards for which a good man must hope.

Their beatitudes would have been, “Blessed are the rich and the successful, those that laugh and are held in honor by men.” How unlike these to the blessed ones of Jesus of Nazareth! His way to happiness was a hard way, but they knew as they looked up into His face that it was the right way. And they felt that He could not only teach but help them. Had they known the story of His life as we do they would have seen that He had first practised all He taught. He was so poor that He had not where to lay His head. He was meek and humble of heart, the Man of sorrows, the great Peacemaker.

After the Sermon our Lord comes down from the Mount, conversing familiarly with His disciples, His simple congregation flocking after Him, trying to get near Him, all so refreshed by His company and His words. Hear them talking of Him among themselves, saying, “We never heard the like.”

Oh, if we had seen our Blessed Lord as these happy people saw Him, if we had followed Him about with the crowd, had sat at His feet as He taught, and watched Him as He laid His hands on the eyes of the blind and the sores of the poor lepers--how we should have loved Him!

--MOTHER MARY LOYOLA.

THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER

perilous ramparts haughty conceals
conquer desolation hireling confusion
motto triumph reposes pollution

Oh say, can you see by the dawn’s early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming--
Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,
O’er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?

And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
Oh say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O’er the land of the free, and the home of the brave?

On that shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep,
Where the foe’s haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o’er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?

Now it catches the gleam of the morning’s first beam,
In full glory reflected now shines on the stream;
’Tis the star-spangled banner; O long may it wave
O’er the land of the free, and the home of the brave!

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
’Mid the havoc of war and the battle’s confusion,
A home and a country shall leave us no more?
Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps’ pollution.

No refuge could save the hireling and slave,
From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave.
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

Oh, thus be it ever when freemen shall stand
Between their loved homes and the war’s desolation;
Blest with victr’y and peace, may the heaven-rescued land,
Praise the power that hath made and preserved us a nation.

Then conquer we must, for our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: “In God is our trust!”
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

HOW AMERICA WAS DISCOVERED

I

THE ITALIAN SAILOR

Italian belief finally dangerous
Indies ocean theory persuade
Europe imagine journey furnish

About four hundred years ago there came to Spain an Italian sailor who believed that the earth is round. Such a belief may not seem at all strange to us, but to the people of that time it appeared to be very foolish and unreasonable. Almost everybody laughed at the Italian, and called him a silly fellow.

“Have you eyes?” they asked. “If so, you need only to open them and look about you to see that the earth is as flat as the top of a table.”

“You may think it is flat,” he answered, “and indeed it does appear to be so. But I know it is round; and if I had only a good ship or two, and some trusty sailors, I would prove it to you. I would sail westward across the great ocean, and in the end would reach the Indies and China, which must be on the other side of the great round world.”

“Who ever heard of such nonsense!” cried his learned critics. “Everybody knows that China and the Indies are in the far East, and that they can be reached only by a dangerous voyage through the Mediterranean Sea, and long journeys with camels across the great desert. Yet, here is Mr. Crack-brain, an Italian sailor, who says he can go to the East by sailing west. One might as well try to reach the moon by going down into a deep well.”

“But you don’t understand me,” answered the man whom they had called Mr. Crack-brain. “Here is an apple. Let us suppose that it is the earth. I stick a pin on this side, and call it Spain. On the other side I stick another pin, and call it the Indies. Now suppose a fly lights upon the apple at the point which I have called Spain. By turning to the right, or eastward, he can travel round to the Indies with but little trouble; or by turning to the left, or westward, he can reach the same place with just as much ease, and in really a shorter time. Do you see?”

“Do we see?” said his hearers. “Most certainly we see the apple, and we can imagine that we see the fly. It is very hard, however, to imagine that the earth is an apple, or anything like it. For, suppose that it were so: what would become of all the water in the seas and the great ocean? Why, it would run off at the blossom end of the apple, which you call the South Pole; and all the rocks and trees and men would follow it. Or, suppose that men could stick to the lower part of the earth as the fly does to the lower part of the apple--how very silly it would be to think of them walking about with their heads hanging down!”

“And suppose,” said one of the doubters, who thought himself very wise,--“suppose that the earth is round, and suppose that the water should not spill off, and suppose you should sail to the other side, as you want to do, how are you to get back? Did anybody ever hear of a ship sailing uphill?”

And so, with sneering remarks, the wise men dismissed the whole subject. They said it was not worth while for them to spend their time in talking about such things. But the man whom they had called Mr. Crack-brain would not give up his theory. He was not the first man to believe that the earth is round--this he knew; but he hoped to be the first to prove it by sailing westward, and thus finally reaching the Indies, and the rich countries of the far East. And yet he had no ship, he was very poor, and the few friends whom he had were not able to give him any help.

“My only hope,” he said, “is to persuade the king and queen to furnish me with a ship.”

But how should an unknown Italian sailor make himself heard by the king and queen of the most powerful country in Europe?

The great men at the king’s court ridiculed him. “You had better buy a fisherman’s boat,” they said, “and try to make an honest living with your nets. Men of your kind have no business with kings. As to your crazy theory about the shape of the earth, only think of it! How dare you, the son of an Italian wool-comber, imagine that you know more about it than the wisest men in the world?”

But he did not despair. For years he followed the king’s court from place to place. Most people looked upon him as a kind of harmless lunatic who had gotten a single idea in his head and was unable to think of anything else. But there were a few good and wise men who listened to his theories, and after studying them carefully began to believe that there was some truth in them.

One of these men was Father Perez, the prior of the convent of La Rabida, and, to please this good prior, the queen at last sent for the sailor and asked him to tell her all about his strange theories and his plans for sailing west and reaching the East.

“You say that, if you had the vessels and the men, you would sail westward and discover new lands on the farther side of the great ocean,” said the queen. “What reasons have you for supposing that there are any such lands?”

“My first reason is that, since the earth is round like a ball, the countries of China and the Indies must lie in a westward direction and can, sooner or later, be reached by sailing across the sea,” was the answer. “You, yourself, have heard the story of St. Brandon, the Scottish priest, who, eight hundred years ago, was driven by a storm far across the ocean, and how at last he landed upon a strange and unknown shore. I doubt not but that this country was one of the outlying islands of the Indies, or perhaps the eastern shore of China.

“Not very long ago, Martin Vincent, a sea captain of Lisbon, ventured to go a distance of four hundred miles from land. There he picked up a piece of wood, with strange marks and carvings upon it, which had been drifted from the west by strong winds. Other seafaring men have found, far out in the ocean, reeds and light wood, such as travelers say are found in some parts of the Indies, but nowhere in Europe. And if any one should want more proofs than these, it would not be hard to find them. There is a story among the people of the far north which relates that, about five hundred years ago, some bold sea rovers from Iceland discovered a wild, wooded country many days’ sail to the westward. Indeed, it is said that these men tried to form a settlement there, and that they sent more than one shipload of grapes and timber back to Iceland. Now, it is very plain to me that this country of Vinland, as they called it, was no other than a part of the northern coast of China or Japan.”

It is not to be supposed that the queen cared whether the earth was round or flat; nor is it likely that her mind was ever troubled with questions of that kind. But she thought that if this man’s theories were true, and there were lands rich in gold and spices on the other side of the ocean, it would be a fine thing for the queen and king of Spain to possess them. The Italian sailor had studied his subject well, and he certainly knew what he was talking about. He had told his story so well that the queen was almost ready to believe that he was right. But she was very busy just then, in a war with the Moors, and she had little time to think about anything else. If the Italian would wait till everything else could be settled, she would see whether a ship or two might not be fitted out for his use.

For seven years this man with a new idea kept on trying to find some one who was able and willing to help him carry out the plans which he had so much at heart. At last, broken in health and almost penniless, he gave up hope, and was about to leave Spain forever. It was then that one of his friends, Luis St. Angel, pleaded his case before the queen.

“It will cost but little to fit out two or three ships for him. If the undertaking should prove to be a failure you would not lose much. But if it should succeed, only think what vast riches and how great honor will be won for Spain!”

“I will take the risk!” cried the queen, at last. “If the money cannot be had otherwise, I will sell my jewels to get it. Find him, and bring him before me; and let us lose no more time about this business.”

St. Angel hastened to obey.

“Do you know whether Christopher Columbus has passed out through this gate to-day?” he asked of the soldier who was standing guard at one of the gates of the old city of Granada.

“Christopher Columbus? Who is he?” asked the soldier.

“He is a gray-bearded man, rather tall, with a stoop in his shoulders. When last seen he was riding on a small, brown mule, and coming this way.”

“Oh? Do you mean the fellow who has been trying to make people believe that the earth is round?”

“Yes, that is the man.”

“He passed through here not half an hour ago. His mule is a very slow traveler, and if you follow, you can easily overtake him before he has gone far.”

St. Angel gave the rein to his swift horse, and galloped onward in pursuit of Columbus. It was not long until the slow-paced mule, with its sad rider, was seen plodding along the dusty highway. The man was too busy with his own thoughts to heed the sound of the ringing hoofs behind him.

“Christopher Columbus!” cried his friend, “turn about, and come back with me. I have good news for you. Queen Isabella bids me say that she will help you, and that you shall have the ships and the men for which you ask. And she hopes that you may find a new way to the East, and perhaps discover unknown lands on the farther side of the great ocean. Turn about, and come back with me!”

II

THE VOYAGE

Palos Canary precious monsters
Niña Santa Maria anxious venture
Pinta Perez mysterious expanse

One morning in August, 1492, there was a great stir in the little seaport town of Palos in Spain. At break of day the streets were full of people. Long before sunrise the shore was lined with anxious men, women, and children. All were talking about the same thing; some were weeping; some appeared to be angry; some were in despair.

“Only think of it,” said one. “Think of sailing into seas where the water is always boiling hot.”

“And if you escape being scalded,” said another, “then there are those terrible sea beasts that are large enough to swallow ships and sailors at a mouthful.”

“It is all on account of that Italian sailor who says that the world is round,” said a third. “He has persuaded several persons, who ought to know better, that he can reach the East by sailing west.”

Moored near the shore were three small ships. They were but little larger than fishing boats; and in these frail vessels Columbus was going to venture into the vast unknown sea, in search of strange lands and of a new and better way to distant India.

Two of the ships, the “Niña” and the “Pinta,” had no decks and were covered only at the ends where the sailors slept. The third, called the “Santa Maria,” was larger and had a deck, and from its masthead floated the flag of Columbus. It was toward these three ships that the eyes of the people on shore were directed; it was about these ships and the men on board of them that all were talking.

On the deck of the largest ship stood Columbus, and by his side was good Father Perez, praying that the voyagers might be blessed with fair winds and a smooth sea, and that the brave captain might be successful in his quest. Then the last good-bys were spoken, the moorings were cast loose, the sails were spread; and, a little before sunrise, the vessels glided slowly out of the harbor and into the vast western ocean. The people stood on the shore and watched, while the sails grew smaller and smaller and at last were lost to sight below the line of sea and sky.

“Alas! We shall never see them again,” said some, returning to their homes. But others remained all day by the shore talking about the strange idea that there were unknown lands in the distant West.

Two hundred miles southwest of Palos there is a group of islands called the Canary Islands. These were well known to the people of that time, and belonged to Spain. But sailors seldom ventured beyond them, and no one knew of any land farther to the west. It was to these islands that Columbus first directed his course. In six days the three little vessels reached the Canary Islands. The sailing had been very slow. The rudder of one of the ships had not been well made and had soon been broken. And so, now, much time was wasted while having a new rudder made and put in place.

It was not until the 6th of September that Columbus again set sail, pushing westward into unknown waters. Soon the sailors began to give way to their fears. The thought that they were on seas where no man had before ventured filled them with alarm. They remembered all the strange stories that they had heard of dreadful monsters and of mysterious dangers, and their minds were filled with distress.

But Columbus showed them how unreasonable these stories were; and he aroused their curiosity by telling them wonderful things about India--that land of gold and precious stones, which they would surely reach if they would bravely persevere.

And so, day after day, they sailed onward. The sea was calm, and the wind blowing from the east drove the ships steadily forward. By the first of October they had sailed more than two thousand miles. Birds came from the west, and flew about the ships. The water was full of floating seaweed. But still no land could be seen.

Then the sailors began to fear that they would never be able to return against the east wind that was blowing. “Why should we obey this man, Columbus?” they said. “He is surely mad. Let us throw him into the sea, and then turn the ships about while we can.”

But Columbus was so firm and brave that they dared not lay hands on him; they dared not disobey him. Soon they began to see signs of the nearness of land. Weeds, such as grow only in rivers, were seen floating near the ships. A branch of a tree, with berries on it, was picked up. Columbus offered a reward to the man who should first see land.

“We must be very near it now,” he said.

That night no one could sleep. At about two o’clock the man who was on the lookout on one of the smaller vessels cried: “Land! land! land!” Columbus himself had seen a distant light moving, some hours before. There was now a great stir on board the ships.

“Where is the land?” cried every one.

“There--there! Straight before us.”

III

THE DISCOVERY

San Salvador anchor bananas messenger
Cuba scarlet palms brilliant

Yes, there was a low, dark mass far in front of them, which might be land. In the dim starlight, it was hard to make out what it was. But one thing was certain, it was not a mere expanse of water, such as lay in every other direction. And so the sailors brought out a little old-fashioned cannon and fired it off as a signal to the crews of the other vessels. Then the sails of the three ships were furled, and they waited for the light of day.

When morning dawned, Columbus and his companions saw that they were quite near to a green and sunny island. It was a beautiful spot. There were pleasant groves where the songs of birds were heard. Thousands of flowers were seen on every hand, and the trees were laden with fruit. The island was inhabited, too; for strange men could be seen running toward the shore and looking with wonder at the ships.

The sailors, who had lately been ready to give up all hope, were now filled with joy. They crowded around Columbus, and kissed his hands, and begged him to forgive them for thinking of disobeying him. The ships cast anchor, the boats were lowered, and Columbus, with most of the men, went on shore. Columbus was dressed in a grand robe of scarlet, and the banner of Spain was borne above him.

As soon as the boats reached the shore, Columbus stepped out and knelt down upon the beach and gave thanks to God; then he took possession of the island in the name of the king and queen of Spain, and called it San Salvador. It was thus that the first land in America was discovered on the 12th of October, 1492.

The natives were filled with wonder at what they saw. At first they were awed and frightened at sight of the ships and the strange men; but they soon overcame their fears and seemed delighted and very friendly. They brought to Columbus gifts of all they had,--bananas, yams, oranges, and beautiful birds.

“Surely,” they said, “these wonderful beings who have come to us from the sea are not mere men like ourselves. They must be messengers from heaven.”

Columbus believed that this island was near the coast of Asia, and that it was one of the islands of India; and so he called the people Indians. He did not remain here long, but sailed away to discover other lands. In a short time the ships came to a large island where there were rivers of fresh water flowing into the sea. The air was sweet with the breath of blossoms; the sky was blue and clear; the sea was calm; the world seemed full of joy and peace. This island was Cuba.

“Let us live here always!” cried the sailors; “for surely this is paradise.”

And so, for three months and more, Columbus and his companions sailed among scenes of delight, such as they had never before imagined. They visited island after island, and everywhere saw new beauties and new pleasures. The natives were simple-hearted and kind. “They love their neighbors as themselves,” said Columbus. They looked with wonder upon the bright swords of the white men and upon their brilliant armor; and when the little cannon was fired, they were so filled with alarm that they fell to the ground.

It was on the 15th of the next March that Columbus, after a stormy homeward voyage, sailed again into the little harbor of Palos, from which he had started. And now there was a greater stir in the little town than there had been before. “Christopher Columbus has come back from the unknown seas!” was the cry that went from house to house.

“Did he reach the East by sailing west? Has he really been to far-off India?” asked the doubting ones.

“He has, indeed!” was the answer. “He has discovered a new world.”

Then the bells were rung, guns were fired, and bonfires blazed on the hilltops. Everybody rejoiced. Everybody was willing now to say that the Italian sailor was right when he declared the earth to be round.

THE POWER OF GOD

Thou art, O God! the life and light
Of all this wondrous world we see;
Its glow by day, its smile by night,
Are but reflections caught from Thee.
Where’er we turn, Thy glories shine,
And all things fair and bright are Thine.

When day, with farewell beam, delays,
Among the opening clouds of even,
And we can almost think we gaze
Through golden vistas into heaven;
Those hues that mark the sun’s decline,
So soft, so radiant, Lord! are Thine.

When night, with wings of starry gloom,
O’ershadows all the earth and skies,
Like some dark, beauteous bird, whose plume
Is sparkling with unnumbered eyes;--
That sacred gloom, those fires Divine,
So grand, so countless, Lord! are Thine.

--THOMAS MOORE.

OUR COUNTRY AND OUR HOME

There is a land, of every land the pride,
Beloved by Heaven o’er all the world beside;
Where brighter suns dispense serener light,
And milder moons emparadise the night:
A land of beauty, virtue, valor, truth,
Time-tutored age, and love-exalted youth:
The wandering mariner whose eye explores
The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores,
Views not a realm so bountiful and fair,
Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air.
For in this land of Heaven’s peculiar grace,
The heritage of Nature’s noblest race,
There is a spot of earth supremely blest--
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest:
Here woman reigns; the mother, daughter, wife,
Strew with fresh flowers the narrow way of life;
In the clear heaven of her delightful eye,
An angel-guard of loves and graces lie;
Around her knees domestic duties meet,
And fireside pleasures gambol at her feet.
“Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found?”
Art thou a man?--a patriot?--look around;
Oh, thou shalt find, howe’er thy footsteps roam,
That land _thy_ Country, and that spot thy _Home_.

--MONTGOMERY.

NOTES ABOUT AUTHORS

PAGE 7.--=François Coppée=, a noted French writer, was born at Paris in 1842. Although he was the writer of good French poetry and some successful plays, he is best known to American readers by his charming short stories, in which he depicts the life and aspirations of the common people. In his later life he was an ardent Catholic, and as such wrote fearlessly in defense of the rights of the Church in France. He died in 1908.

PAGE 14.--=John James Audubon=, a noted American ornithologist of French descent, was born at New Orleans in 1780. Perhaps no other person has done so much for the birds of America, or has described them so well, as he. His drawings of birds are particularly famous. He died at New York in 1851.

PAGE 16.--=J. R. Marre=, is a contemporary Catholic writer whose poems are well known to readers of _The Ave Maria_ and other religious periodicals.

PAGE 17.--=Rev. John Banister Tabb= was born in Virginia, March 22, 1845. He studied for the priesthood and was ordained in 1884. He is an instructor in St. Charles College, Maryland. His poems are exquisite in movement and diction no less than in richness of thought.

PAGE 18.--=Horace Binney Wallace=, a noted American lawyer and prose writer, was born at Philadelphia, 1817; died at Paris, 1852. His best known work, _Literary Criticisms_, was published after his death.

PAGE 23.--=Henry Coyle= is a contemporary Catholic poet residing at Boston, Massachusetts. He is well known as a contributor to Catholic periodicals. His first volume of poetry, entitled _The Promise of Morning_, was published in 1899. His writings are characterized by deep religious feeling no less than by rare poetic charm.

PAGE 24.--=Miguel de Saavedra Cervantes=, a celebrated Spanish poet and novelist, was born near Madrid, 1547; died, 1616. His most famous work is the romance entitled _Don Quixote_, which was first printed in 1605. It has been translated into every language of Europe.

PAGE 43.--=John Henry, Cardinal Newman= was born at London in 1801. He was educated at a private school until he entered Oxford, where he took his degree before he was twenty. In 1822 he was elected Fellow in Oriel College. In 1845 he left the Church of England for the Roman Catholic Church. He wrote many sermons, treatises, and poems. In literary merit his work ranks very high. He died in 1890.

=Rev. Thomas Edward Bridgett=, a noted priest and author, was born at Derby, England, in 1829. He was the founder of the Confraternity of the Holy Family for men, and much of his life was devoted to missionary work. He was the author of numerous religious and historical works, among which may be named, _The History of the Holy Eucharist_, _Life of the Blessed John Fisher_, _Blunders and Forgeries_, etc. Father Bridgett died at St. Mary’s Clapham, England, in 1899.

PAGE 56.--=William Cowper=, a celebrated English poet, was born in 1731. He attended Westminster school and afterwards studied law. His most famous poems are _The Task_ and the ballad _John Gilpin’s Ride_. He died in 1800.

PAGE 58.--=Rev. Frederick William Faber= was born in Yorkshire, England, in 1814. He was an eloquent preacher, a brilliant talker, and had an unsurpassed power of gaining the love of all with whom he came in contact. His hymns are well known, and sung throughout the world. He founded a religious community which was afterwards merged in the oratory of St. Philip Neri. He died in 1863.

PAGE 75.--=John Greenleaf Whittier= was born at Haverhill, Massachusetts, 1807. At the age of eighteen he studied for two years at an academy near his home. In 1829 he became the editor of a paper established at Boston to advocate protective tariff. He was active in the cause of antislavery. He died in 1892.

PAGE 82.--=Mary Lydia Bolles Branch= was born at New London, Connecticut, in 1840. She is best known as a writer of stories for children.

PAGE 84.--=John Burroughs= was born in Roxbury, New York, in 1837. He was the son of a farmer, but received a good college education. For eight or nine years he taught school, and then became a journalist in New York city. From 1861 till 1873 he was a clerk in the Treasury Department at Washington. He finally settled on a farm at West Park, New York, giving his time to literature and the observation of nature. His love of nature has inspired most of what he has contributed to the literature of the world.

PAGE 96.--=Aubrey de Vere=, an Irish Catholic poet, was born in 1788. He belonged to a good family, and always had leisure to cultivate a naturally refined taste. At first he wrote dramas, but later, poems, especially sonnets. He was a true patriot, and pays many tributes of love to his country in his historical themes. He died in 1846.

PAGE 97.--=Sir Walter Scott= was born at Edinburgh in 1771. His delightful art of story telling, both in prose and poetry, has been excelled by few. Among his most popular poems are _The Lady of the Lake_ and _Marmion_; among his most popular novels are _Kenilworth_, _Ivanhoe_, _The Talisman_, and _Old Mortality_. He died in 1832.

PAGE 106.--=Thomas Moore= was born at Dublin, Ireland, in 1779; died in 1852. He entered Trinity College, Dublin, at fifteen years of age. He studied law, and in 1799 entered the Middle Temple, London. In 1803 he received a government appointment to the Bermuda Islands and traveled quite extensively in the United States. Among English Catholic poets he holds a high rank.

PAGE 107.--=Andrew Lang= was born in Scotland in 1844; died at London in 1912. He pursued many different lines of literary work, and was one of the most versatile writers of modern times. The number of volumes bearing his name as author is surprisingly large.

PAGE 114.--=Lady Gregory= is the daughter of Dudley Presse, Deputy Lieutenant of Roxborough, County Galway, Ireland. She has done very valuable service to literature in preserving and editing many of the early Celtic legends. Some of her publications are: _Poets and Dreamers_, _Cuchullain of Muerthemme_, and _Gods and Fighting Men_.

PAGE 118.--=Helen Hunt Jackson= was born in 1831 at Amherst, Massachusetts. In 1867 she wrote her first stories, and from that time until her death books from the pen of H. H. were published with frequency. She wrote verses, essays, sketches of travel, children’s stories, novels, and tracts on questions of the day.

PAGE 120.--=St. Ambrose= or Ambrosius, one of the fathers of the Latin Church, was born at Treves, A.D. 340; died, 397. He was the champion of the Catholics against Arians and pagans; he became Bishop of Milan in 374. He was the author of numerous hymns and other religious works.

PAGE 121.--=James Sheridan Knowles= was born at Dublin, Ireland, 1784. For a time he held a commission in the militia, but became attracted to the stage and entered the dramatic profession. He died in 1862.

PAGE 132.--=Washington Irving= was born in New York city, April 3, 1783; died, 1859. His early schooling was not very systematic. When a young man he began the study of law, but never followed the profession very steadily. He is the most popular of the American writers of the early part of the nineteenth century.

PAGE 152.--=Alfred Tennyson= was born at Somersby, England, in 1809. He was educated at Cambridge, where he gained the Chancellor’s medal for his poem _Timbuctoo_ in blank verse. In 1830 he published his first volume of poems. Other poems followed quickly and soon became popularly known. Tennyson’s poetry is distinguished by its rare quality and delicate choice of language. He was for many years poet laureate. He died in 1892.

PAGE 158.--=Sister Mary Antonia= is an occasional and highly esteemed contributor of verse to current Catholic periodicals.

PAGE 161.--=Miriam Coles Harris= is a contemporary Catholic writer whose works have attracted considerable attention. The extract is from _A Corner of Spain_, published in 1896.

PAGE 166.--=William Cullen Bryant=, a famous American poet, was born at Cummington, Massachusetts, November 3, 1794. He entered Williams College at the age of sixteen, but at the end of two years took honorable dismission and engaged in the study of law. He was admitted to the bar in 1815; removed to New York in 1825; was editor of the _New York Review_ in the same year; and in 1826 became connected with the _Evening Post_, with which he continued until his death, which occurred in 1878.

PAGE 170.--=Conrad Von Bolanden= is the pseudonym of a contemporary German Catholic writer, Monsignor Joseph Bischoff, who was born in August, 1828. He was made a Papal Chamberlain to Pope Pius IX in recognition of the merits of his efforts in the field of Catholic literature. He has written much, finding the motives of his books in history and in the problems of social life.

PAGE 174.--=Henry Wadsworth Longfellow= is often called the children’s poet, partly because of his love for children and partly because of some poems written for children. He was born in Portland, Maine, in 1807. From 1835 to 1854 he was professor of modern languages at Harvard University. He died in 1882.

PAGE 178.--=John Gilmary Shea=, a brilliant Catholic writer, was born at New York city, July 1824; died, 1892. He devoted most of his time to literature instead of to the law, for which he was educated. Perhaps no one has done more to preserve the history and language of the aborigines of this country. _History of the Catholic Missions among the Indian Tribes of the United States_, _Early Voyages up and down the Mississippi_, _History of the Catholic Church in Colonial Times_, are some of his most popular works.

PAGE 186.--=James Russell Lowell= was born at Cambridge, Massachusetts, February 22, 1819. He died in the same house in which he was born, August 12, 1891. For many years he held the chair of modern languages in Harvard University. He was a man who represented American culture and letters at their best.

PAGE 188.--=Mother Mary Loyola= of the Bar Convent, York, England, is a writer of more than ordinary power on the subjects dearest to every true Catholic. Her book, _Jesus of Nazareth_, from which our selection is taken, was written especially for American children and is dedicated to them.

PAGE 196.--=Francis Scott Key=, author of “The Star-spangled Banner,” was born in Frederick County, Maryland, in 1780. It was during the British invasion in 1814, while he was detained on a British man-of-war within sight of the bombardment of Fort McHenry, that Key wrote this beautiful lyrical poem. He died at Baltimore in 1843.

PAGE 214.--=James Montgomery= was a Scottish poet, born in 1776; died in 1854. His poems, once very popular, are now almost forgotten.

WORD LIST

GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION

ā, as in māte.
ā̇, as in sen´ā̇te.
â, as in câre.
ă, as in ăt.
ä, as in ärm.
ȧ, as in ȧsk.
a̤, as in a̤ll.
ạ = ŏ, as in whạt.
ç = s, as in çell.
ch = k, as in chorus.
çh = sh, as in maçhine.
ē, as in hē, mēte.
ē̇, as in ē̇vent.
ĕ, as in mĕt.
ẽ, as in hẽr.
e̱ = ā̱, as in e̱ight.
ê, = â, as in whêre.
ḡ, as in ḡet.
ġ = j, as in ġem.
ī, as in mīne.
i̇, as in i̇dea.
ĭ, as in ĭt.
ĩ = ẽ, as in sĩr, bĩrd.
ï = ē, as in machïne.
ṉ = ng, as in baṉk, liṉger.
ō, as in ōld.
ō̇, as in ō̇bey.
ô, as in ôr.
ŏ, as in nŏt.
o̤ = o̅o̅, as in do̤, ro̅o̅m.
ọ = o͝o or ụ, as in wọlf, fo͝ot.
ȯ = ŭ, as in sȯn.
s̱ = z, as in his̱.
th, as in thin.
t͞h, as in t͞hen.
ū, as in mūte.
ŭ, as in thŭs.
ṳ, as in rṳde.
ụ= o͝o, as in fụll.
û, as in bûrn.
x̱ = gz, as in ex̱ist.
ȳ = ī, as in bȳ.
y̆ = ĭ, as in hy̆mn.
ỹ = ẽ, as in mỹrtle.

Certain vowels, as a and e, when obscure are marked thus, a̯, e̯. Silent letters are italicized. In the following word list only accented syllables and syllables of doubtful pronunciation are marked.

a băn´don
ab hôr´
a bŏm´i nā´tion
a bŭn´dạnçe
ăc´çi dent
ăc côrd´
āc_h_´ing
ac quā_i_nt´ed
ä d_i_eū´
ad jā´çent
ăd´mĭ rā´tion
ad mĭt´tanç_e_
al lē vĭ ā´tion
a māz´ing
a māze´ment
am´mu nĭ´tion
ăn´chor
ăṉ´guĭsh
ăn´ĭ māt ed
ăn´tĭ quāt ed
ăṉx´ious (-yŭs)
a pŏ_s´t_l_e_
ap pa̤ll´ing
ap păr´el
ap pâr´ent ly
ap´pa rĭ´tion
ăp´pe tīt_e_
ap pla̤_u_s̱_e_´
ap´plĭ cā´tion
ap prō_a_ch_e_d´
ăp´pro bā´tion
ärch´er y
är´mor
as săs´sĭn
as sa̤_u_lt´
as sĕm´bl_e_
at tĕnd´a̯nt
a̤_u_ tŭm´nal
ăv´ȧ lănch_e_
a vĕnġ_e_´
a wa̤rd´
bä nä´nȧ
băṉ´quet
băr´rĭ er
bē̇ ăt´ĭ tud_e_
be hāv´ior (-yer)
be hĕst´
be l_i_ēf´
bĕn´e fit
brĭl´liançe (-ya̯ns)
brĭl´liant
bŭg´ȧ boo
cä_l_m´
căl´u met
cam pā_ig_n´
cā̇ prïç_e_´
cär´di nal
ca̤_u_´tious ly
cav ȧ l_i_ēr´
căv´i ty
çel´e brā´tion
c_h_ā´ŏs
chăr´ĭ ot
chef (shĕf)
çhĕv´a l_i_ēr´
ch_i_ēf´ta̯_i_n
çhĭv´al ry
çĭv´il ly
clē_a_v_e_
cŏm´ic
cŏm´mȧn dänt´
com mŏd´ĭ ty
cȯm´pa ny
com´plē mĕnt´a ry
cŏm´plĭ ment
com pōs̱´er
com po s̱ĭ´tion
con çē_a_l´
con çĕp´tion
con fū´s̱ion
cŏn gre gā´tion
cŏṉ´quer (-kẽr)
cŏṉn´quer or
con sĕnt´
con sẽrv´a to ry
con sĭd´er a bl_e_
con tĕnt´
con trĭ bu´tion
coun´çil
coun´te na̯nç_e_
couple (kŭp´l)
c_o_ûr´aġ_e_
c_o_ûr´te ous ly
c_o_ûr´te sy
cō_u_rt´ĭer
cȯv´ert
cre ā´tor
crĕv´ĭç_e_
crĭm´s̱on
crṳ´çĭ fȳ
crṳa sād_e_´
cū´bit
cū´rĭ _o_us
cŭs´tom
çy´press
dān´ġer _o_us
de çē_i_v_e_´
dĕl´ĭ cā̇ çy̆
dĕl´ĭ cat_e_
de pūt´ed
de rānġ_e_´
de s̱ẽrv_e_´
dĕs´ic cāt ed
de s̱ī_g_n´
des´o lā´tion
dĕs´per at_e_
des per ā´tion
dev´ăs tat ing
de vĕl´op ment
de vīç_e_´
de vout´
dĭs̱´ma̯l
dis mā_y_´
dis´o bē´di ĕnç_e_
dis pẽrs_e_´
dĭs´trict
do mĕs´tic
dŏṉ´k_e_y̆
dȯz´_e_n
dūn_e_s̱
ē_a_´ger
ē_a_´ger ly
ẽ_a_r´nest ly
ĕd´u cā´tion
ĕl´e ment
ĕl´o quent
ĕm´er ald
en dē_a_r´
en dūr´a̯nç_e_
ĕn´ē̇ my
en´ter tā_i_n´
en thū´s̱ĭ asm
ĕn´vy
e rĕct´
es pĕ´çĭal ly
ĕv´ĭ dent ly
ĕx´çel lent
ex ha̤_u_st´
ex păns_e_´
ex pe dĭ´tion
ex plō´s̱ion
ex pō´s̱ur_e_
ex prĕss´iv_e_
ex tr_a_ôr´dĭ na ry
fa̤_l_´con ry
fath´om
fā´vor ĭt_e_
fẽr´vor
fĕs´tĭ val
fī´nal ly
fĭs´sūr_e_
fŏr_e´h_ĕ_a_d
fra̤_u_d
frĕs´co
frṳ_i_t´ag_e_
fū´ġĭ tĭv_e_
fûr´nish
gär´land
ġĕn er _o_ŭs
ġĕn´e sĭs
ġĕn´ū ĭn_e_
ġī´ant
ġī găn´tic
_g_närled
grăd´u al ly
grăn´d_e_ûr
gr_i_ēv´ing
hab´ĭ tā´tion
hȧ răng_ue_´
ha̤_ugh_´ty
hä_u_nt
h_e_ī_gh_t
hĕr´it ag_e_
hẽr´mit
hīr_e_´ling
hŏl´ĭ da_y_
_h_ŏn´ŏr
ho rī´zon
hȯv´er ing
hū´man
hu mĭl ĭ ā´tion
hū´mor
hûr´rĭ cā̇n_e_
īdē´ȧ
ī dŏl´a try
ĭm ăġ´ĭn_e_
im mĕns_e_´
in crē_a_s_e_´
in´dĭg nā´tion
in fē´rĭ or
ĭn´fĭ nĭt_e_
ĭn´fĩrm´i ty
ĭn´flu enç_e_
in grăt´i tud_e_
in hăb´it ant
ĭn´no çent
in´no vā´tion
in quī´ry
in sĭst´ed
ĭn´ter val
in tŏl´er a bl_e_
in vĕs´ti gat_e_
in vĭ tā´tion
jew´_e_l
j_o_ŭr´n_e_y̆
j_o_ŭst
jŭs´tĭc_e_
kĭn´dred
lē_a_
lē_a_g_ue_
l_ie_ū tĕn´ant
lux ū´ri_o_us
măm´moth
mär’tyr dom
mär´vel_e_d
ma tē´rĭ al
mē_a_´ger ly
mĕl´an chol y
mĕn´tion
mẽr´çi ful
mĕs´saġ_e_
mĕs´sen ġer
mĭl´i ta ry
mĭn´strel sy
mĭr´a cl_e_
mĭs hăp´
mĭs´sĭl_e_
mod´es ty
mōld
mŏn´ster
mo̅o̅r_e_d
mŏt´to
mŭl´tĭ tūd_e_
mûr´mur
my̆s´tē rĭ _o_us
my̆s´ter y
my̆th
n_o_ŭr´ish ing
o bē´di enç_e_
ŏb´sti nat_e_
oc cā´s̱ion
ō´çean (-sha̯n)
ŏp´e rȧ
ŏp´po s̱ĭt_e_
op prĕs_se_d´
or´acl_e_
o rā´tion
pā´gan
pälms
par tĭc´u lar
pā´tiençe (-shens)
pa trōl_le_d´
pĕ_a_s̱´ant
pe cūl´iar
pĕn´anç_e_
pĕn´sĭv_e_
pĕr´il _o_us
per plĕx´i ty
per se cū´tion
pẽr´son ag_e_
per suāde´
per suā´sion
pĕt´ri fi_e_d
phĭ lŏs´o pher
phy̆s̱´ic al
pĭ ăz´zȧ
pĭl´grim ag_e_
pĭt´y
plä´zȧ
plūm´ag_e_
pō´em
pō´et ry
pŏl´i cy
pol lū´tion
pȯm´mel
pŏp´u lar
pôr´ri_d_g_e_
pos̱ s̱ĕss´
pŏv´er ty
prĕ´cious
pre s̱erv_e_´
prĭs̱´on er
prŏb´a bly
pro çĕs´sion
pro tĕct´or
prŏv´ĭ denç_e_
pûr´pos_e_
pûr sū_i_t´
rā_i_´ment
răm´parts
răp´tur _o_us
rē´al ly
rĕck´on ing
rĕc´og niz_e_
re cȯv´er y
rĕf´ug_e_
re lā´tion
re l_i_ēf´
re nown_e_d´
re pos̱_e_´
rĕs´cū_e_
re s̱ŏlv_e_´
rĕs´ŭr rĕc´tion
re tôrts´
re trē_a_t´
re vē_a_l´
re vĕnġ_e_´
rĕv´er ent
r_h_ȳme
rīght´eous (-chŭs)
rĭv´et ed
rō´s̱ē̇ āt_e_
rŭf´fĭ an
săl´u ta´tion
sal vā´tion
sănc´tion
săt´is fy
săv´aġ_e_
scăf´fold
scăr´çĭ ty
scâr_e_´cro_w_
scär´let
s_c_ēn_e_
s_c_ĕnt´ed
sẽ_a_rch
sĕm´i cĩr´cl_e_
sĕn´si tive
sĕp´a rat ed
shrewd
s_i_ēġ_e_
sĭg´nal
sĭg´ni fy
sĭn´ew
skĕl´e ton
sleev_e_
snĭv´el ing
sō´cia bl_e_
so´cia bĭl´ĭ ty
sō´cial (-shal)
so ç´īe ty
so j_o_ûrn´er
so lĕm´_n_ĭ ty
sŏl´emn ly
sŏl´ī tud_e_
spĕ´cial
spē´cies (-shē̇z)
spĕç´i men
spĕc´ter
sphēr_e_
spĭr´it
spĭr´it u al
spŏn´sor
stĕ_a_d´ĭ ly
sŭb´stanc_e_
subtle (sŭt´l)
sŭd´den ly
sŭf fi´cien cy
sŭm´mit
sŭmp´tu _o_us
sŭs pĕct´
sy̆m´pa thy̆
tăl´ent
tĕn´der ly
tĕr´rā̇ç_e_
tĕr´ri fi_e_d
ter´ror
thē´a ter
thē´o ry
thĩrst
thrŭsh
tŏr´rent
tôr´tur_e_
to̤_u_r´na ment
to̤_u_r´n_e_y
trăġ´e dy
trăġ´ic
trăṉ´quil
trăns pâr´ent
trĭ´but_e_
trĭp´l_e_
tri´umph
tri ŭm´phant
tȳ´rant
un cĭv´il
un co̤_u_th´
ûr´chin
ū´s̱ū al
ŭt´ter anç_e_
văn´ish
ve̱_i_n´ing
vĕn´tur_e_
vẽr´dur _o_us
vẽr´min
vĕs´per
vĭ çĭn´ĭ ty
vĭc´tor
vĭc´to ry
vĭg´or
vĭg´or _o_us
vĭl´ l_a_in
vī´o l_e_nç_e_
vĭs̱´ion
wäm´pum
wĕ_a_p´on
whĕlp
_w_rē_a_th
zĕ_a_l´_o_us

PROPER NAMES

Ad mē´tus
Af´rĭ cȧ
A̤l´ba ny
Al ex ăn´der
Am´brōs̱_e_
An´ġe lo
An ï´ta´
An´tĭ oc_h_
Ap´en nīn_e_s̱
A rā´bĭ a̯
A´sĭȧ
As sĭ´sĭ
A̤_u_ gŭs´tĭne
A̤_u_ gŭs´tu̯s
Ā_y_´mer
Ben e dĭct´ĭn_e_
Bẽr lĭn´
Blĕn´_he_im
Bo´he mond
Bŏn´ĭ fāç_e_
Bouillon (bo̅o̅ yōṉ´)
Brĭt´_ai_n
Brṳç_e_
Căl´va ry
Ca pẽr´na um
Cär rä´rä
Căth´bad
Çhĕv ȧ l_i_ēr´
Çhĕv´ĭ ot
Clẽr´mont
Comyn (kŭm´in)
Cŏn´_eh_ū bär
Cŏn´na̤ught
Cŏn´stan tĭ nō´pl_e_
Cor o nä´rï
Cū´bȧ
Cuchulain (ko̅o̅ ho̅o̅´lin)
Cṳlā_i_n
Da kō´tȧ
Da măs´cus
De troit´
Don Quixote (dŏn kehō´te)
D_o_ŭg´las
Drĕs̱´den
Drṳ´ĭd
Dul çĭn´e a
E´bro
E´ġy̆pt
E mā_i_n´
E´rin
Es´t_h_e̯r
Eū´rop_e_
Fẽr´gus
Flŏr´enc_e_
Fon tĭ nĕl´lȧ
Frăn´cis
Frĕd´er ick
Frï´s̱ĭ ȧ
Gā´brĭ el
Ġĕn´ō̇ ȧ
Ġĕn o ēs̱_e_´
Gĕs´ler
G_h_ï bẽr´tï
Ġ_i_ō chï´no
Gŏd´fr_e_y̆
Grĕg´o ry
Häl´le̯
Han´del
Hel vĕl´ly̆n
Hŭṉ´ gȧ ry
Ic_h_´ȧ bŏd
In´dĭ_e_s̱
It´a ly
Je rṳ´sa lem
Joliet (zhō lyā´)
Jôr´da̯n
Lē o närd´ō̇
Lē´vīt_e_
Măç´e don
Măl´a gȧ
Mär quette´ (-kĕt)
Mĕc´cȧ
Me dï´nȧ
Mĕd´ĭ ter rā´ne an
Me nŏm´o nĭ_e_
Mī´c_h_a el
Mĭl´an
Mis´sis sĭp´pĭ
Mo hăm´med
Mŏs̱lem
Mus tȧ´phȧ
Nĭc_h_´o las
Nï´ña
Păl´es tīn_e_
Pä´lōs
Păn´the on
Pe̱´rez (-āth)
Persia (pēr´shĭȧ)
Pe̱´sä rō
Piacenza (pē ä chĕn´zä)
Pil är´
Pĭn´ta
Po nē´mä_h_
Que bĕc´
Rāph´a el
Rat bō´do
Ros sï´nï
Ro´zĭ năn te
Sa măr´ĭ tan
Săn´c_h_o
Sän Săl´va dor
Sän Sïs´to
Sän´tȧ Crō´ce (-chā)
Sän´ta Ma rï´a
Săr´a çen
Săx´o ny
Se tăn´ta
Seville (sĕv´ĭl)
Sĭs´tïn_e_
Spăn´ĭard
Stä´bat Mä´ter
Tăn´cred
Thames (tĕmz)
Ul´ster
Ur´ban
Ur bï´no
Valence (vä lŏṉs´)
Văt´ĭ can
Vĕn´ĭç_e_
Vẽr´ner
Vï´ȧ Cŏr o nä´rĭ
Vï ĕn´nȧ
Wis cŏn´sin
Wọlff
Wu̇lf´ram