brothers of Jesus Christ when we do the will of the Father, who is in heaven; and we are mothers when we conceive him in our hearts by love, and we bring him forth by holy works, when we enlighten others by good example. Oh how glorious and great is it to have a comforter, a beautiful and loving spouse! One so holy, delightful, agreeable, humble, peaceable and lovely; and above all, how (desirable to have such a brother, who gave his life, and prayed to the Father for us, saying: "Father, keep through thine own name those whom thou gavest me. Father, those which thou gavest me out of the world, thine they were, and thou gavest them to me; and I have given unto them the words which thou gavest me, and they have received them, and have known verily that I came out from thee, and they have believed that thou didst send me....I pray for them....I sanctify myself, that they also may sanctified....Father, I will that where I am, they also may be whom thou hast given me, that they may see my glory." John xvii. be Therefore to him who suffered so much for us, who bestowed, and shall in future confer his graces, let every creature that is in heaven, on earth, in the sea, and in the abyss, give praise, glory, honour, and benediction; for he is our virtue and fortitude, he alone is good, alone most high, alone almighty, admirable and glorious, alone is holy, worthy of praise, blessed for ever and ever. Amen. All those, nevertheless, that do not penance, and receive not the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, but that indulge vices and work sins, and walk according to their concupiscences, and evil desires, and keep not what they have promised, but that serve the world and their sensual appetites, being full of the cares and solicitudes of this life, such men are deceived by the devil, whose sons they are, and do his works. They are blind, for they do not see the true light, Jesus Christ our Lord. They do not possess the wisdom of the Spirit, because the Son of God, who is the true wisdom of the Father, is not with them; of these it is said, "Their wisdom is devour. ed." They see, recognise, acknowledge, and know the evil they do, and knowingly lose their souls. Look, blind men, deceived by your enemies, that Is to say, by the flesh, the world, and the devil. You serve them because it is delightful to the body, and you feel bitter to serve God, because all evils come and proceed from the human body; but as the Lord says in the Gospel: You trust to enjoy for a long time the vain things of this world, but you are deceived, for the day and hour will come of which you think not and know not. The body gets ill, death draws near, the relations and friends of the sick man come, saying: "Set thy house in order," &c. And behold, his wife, his children, relations, and friends, feign to weep, and looking, he sees them weeping. Then he is stirred up with an ill motion, and thinking, be says within himself: Lo! I put my soul and body, and all my goods, into your hands. Certainly the man who intrusts and exposes his soul, body, and substance in such hands, is cursed; for the Lord says by the prophet: "Cursed be the man that trusteth in man." Jerem. xvii. 5. Then they call for a priest, who asks the sick man, Art thou willing to receive penance for all thy sins? He says: 1 will. Art thou willing to make satisfaction, with thy substance, for thy injustices, and for what thou has defrauded and cheated? He answers, not. Why not? Because, replies he, I disposed of all to my kindred; they are masters of my inheritance. Then he begins to lose his speech, and dieth miserably. Now be it known to all, that howsoever and wheresoever man dieth guilty of sin, without satisfaction, and being able to satisfy, did not so; the devil receives and takes off the soul from the body of such man, with so much distress and tribulation to him, that it cannot be known but to him who experiences it. And all the talents, powers, and science, which he seemed to possess, are taken away from him, and the rela tions and friends, to whom he bequeathed his substance, take and divine it, and after they say: Cursed be his soul, for he could have given us more than he did, and could have purchased more than he acquired... His body is eaten with worms, his soul is gnawed by devils, and thus he loses both soul and body, to gratify the world. I, brother Francis, your meanest servant, pray and beg for the charity which is God, that these words and others of our Lord Jesus Christ be humbly received, and kept by you. And let all those who bountifully receive and understand them, communicate the same to others by their example. If they persevere in them to the end, may the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, bless them. Amen. Literature. MIXED MARRIAGES. She had now no hopes of her husband's immediate conver sion, but notwithstanding, she resolved on using her best exertions to secure for him the blessings of the faith. Mildness, kindness, a ready attention to his every wish marked her demeanour, and in his every-day conduct, in all respects but on the score of religion, he reciprocated her best feelings, and faithfully returned love for love. Mr. Hookhim dreaded Mrs. Moore's influence, and therefore, did not give up his plans, he loved and respected Edward Moore; for the man's own sake he desired to see him rise to added respectability, but he also felt that to have a papist for a brother-in-law would be a lessening of his own consequence in the eyes of ultra Protestants; he therefore, quietly set to work to baffle Mrs. Moore, and make a churchman of her husband. At the next election of Church Wardens, he so manoeuvred as to have him appointed. This was a dignity seldom conferred on a Presbyterian, and he took care to let him understand that it was both a dignity and a compliment. Edward Moore was thus brought in contact with the rector and the leading members of his congregation. He was in a short time easily persuaded to attend public worship in the church, and consequently was looked upon with a kindly eye as a valuable convert. Attentions were showered upon him, and they told even on his steady mind. He began to feel as strongly as Mr. Hookhim, that prejudice with regard to religion was silly, and that there was, or at least should be salvation for an honest man in any Christian Church. He could not dream of denying the blessing to his new friends. The post of Barony Constable became vacant, and without solicitation on his part, and merely at the suggestion of Mr. Hookhim, he was appointed. This was a situation of trust, respectability, and emolument, and none was better entitled, or better qualified to fill it than he. This brought him into contact with the nobility and gentry of the county, particularly of the members of the grand jury. He became a favourite with them, and jobs innumerable were thrown in his way; he soon found, that to be a Protestant as by law established, was a very good thing indeed, and then the sermons of the rector contrasted most favourably with the outpourings of the deserted Mr. Stirthemup. Mammon took possession of his heart, Presbyterianism was despised, and Catholicism was forgotten; and yet he still remained a good man, a loving husband, and a tender father. He was however, the father of only one living child, his first born. Years had rolled on and brought others, but they had all died in infancy. A The death of children, however young, is generally found a deep affliction to the mother's heart. No being could be more tender or more affectionate than Mrs. Moore. fonder parent never clasped baby in maternal arms, and yet it was a strange sight to see her weeping tears of joy over the corpse of her infant, and humbly and earnestly thanking Divine Providence for removing it. The superficial and the uncharitable, who constitute the great majority in every society, deemed it affectation. It was a source of grief and discontent to her husband, and no one but her mother either could or would sympathize with her. She knew her motive, and participated in her feelings. All her children had been baptized, and when it pleased the Sovereign ruler to remove one, her only expression was, "Thank God, another soul secure." Of William Mahon we have said nothing latterly; we can tell his story however, in a few words. Shortly after his sister's marriage he commenced his studies for the priesthood, pursued them ardently, went through his course with that eclat which diligence always commands. After having spent eight years in foreign Colleges, he returned to his native diocese, and at this peculiar period was coadjutor to Father O'Leary, whose energies were gradually sinking under the pressure of time. His appointment to his native parish was a source of pleasure to his mother, but his sister viewed it in the light of a great blessing vouchsafed to her self. Her son William Moore, was now thirteen years of age, a lively, active, and talented boy; he was blessed with a strong frame and sound constitution, but though generally amiable and generous in his disposition, he inherited a fierce passion when roused to anger, that gave his father and mother no little alarm. She had done her best to soften down this turbulent temper, by precepts of religion, and she was partly successful. He loved her as dearly as ever son loved mother, and beside his filial affection, he looked upon her as a woman of superior understanding and refined taste. He was proud of his mother, and yielded her an obedience that no species of coercion could extract from him. As an instance; he and his cousin William Hookhim coming home from a game of cricket, happened to meet Aunt Grizzy, the last person in the world they would have desired to encounter; the two lads smiled archly at each other, the lady perceived it, construed the trifling circumstance into an intentional insult, and assailed her nephews in a strain of gross vituperation. The boys retorted in kind, and young Hookhim with little reverence for his antiquated relation, applied to her the name of " old Nick;" she sprung upon him like a fury, flung him to the earth, and punished him severely for his want of politeness. Attempting a like course with William Moore, he threw himself into an attitude of defence, and vowed, if she approached him by another step, that he would knock her down with his bat. She gazed upon his excited and determined countenance, and saw that he was one who would keep his word; she paused and said: "Hech Sirs! my puir Mither's blid's boiling in his veins! but I'll take ither means." And accordingly she marched directly to his father's house, lodged an exaggerated account of the whole affair, and demanded of her brother revenge on her "ill-bred popish nevvy!" Mr. and Mrs. Moore were deeply grieved, and promised her full satisfaction, should the affair ultimately be found to stand in the light in which she had represented it. Without apparent timidity, the boy followed his accuser, related his story simply and truly, and firmly insisted that his aunt was the aggressor. "I care not who was the aggressor," said his father. You have forgotten your duty. There is a respect due to years which youth must never violate with impunity. You must this moment ask your aunt's forgiveness!" "Surely father, you would not force me to do that!" said the boy imploringly. "Indeed, I will, William, and I expect you will obey me instantly." "Well then, father, punish me as you please, but that mean act I will not perform!" Aunt Grizzy drank in the whole scene with fiendish delight, she enjoyed beyond measure the confusion of the parents at the first daring act of disobedience perpetrated by their only son, and she could not resist the pleasure of administering consolation in her own way. "Aweel, aweel, Edward," said she, "I'm sorry for ye. That laddie will gie you money a sair heart or I'm mistaen, but yere ain sauce is fa'in into yere ain plate. Its an aukl saying, sick laws ye gie, sick laws ye get; many a weary day an' sleepless nicht yere ain disobedience caused yere ain faither, an' noo ye may jist take yere reward!" The feelings of the parents were acute in the extreme, they felt the insult of the heartless being, who thus triumphed over them, but more intensely did they deplore the fierce unbending spirit of their only child. The father would have instantly proceeded to coercion, but the mother interposed and said, "William, I desire you to ask your Aunt's forgiveness." "Ask her forgiveness who has always treated you so ill!" "Pray who made you a judge between her and me? and how, pray, will you account for your present passion?" "God gave me the feelings, mother." "William, you shock me! you have spoken blasphemy, God gave you reason to regulate your feelings, God has said, "Honour thy father and thy mother." No person could treat me so cruelly as you have just done. The faults of others sit lightly on me, but the unkindness] of my son wrings my heart." The boy's soul melted at the tones of his mother's voice; he dropped on his knees and sobbed out, "Father, forgive me; mother, pardon my cruelty, I have done very wrong; aunt Grizzy, I sincerely and humbly beg you to forgive and forget my rudeness." The father raised his son, and the mother wept upon his neck, but Mrs. Nickhim felt disappointed, her triumph was cut short, she could not, however, part without inflicting another wound. "That'll do my nevvey," she said, "may this be a warning to ye! Edward Moore, what think ye noo o' mixed marriages?-theyre no that canny after a'. Ye hae nae authority in yere ain hoose man; yere ain bairn despises ye, while his mither's popish sorcery enables her to wind him round her finger!" "Grizzy," said Edward Moore, "in the name of charity will you leave my house, and provoke me not to an unbrotherly act?" "Hech Sirs! puir man! Aye, I'll lea' yere house if it be yours, whilk I muckle doot. An what's mair, I'll pray for enlightenment to my benichted brither. Guid e'en, Mary! William, ye'll no forget "Auld Nick" I jalouse!" to the lofty spires that were erected in "the good old times. As the train nears some old Cathedral town, we are anxious to catch a glimpse at turret or spire outtopping the roofs of the houses. Oft have we, on approaching the ancient city of York, looked forth for a peep at the lofty minster towers. We love to gaze on such venerable old piles-those monuments of the "Ages of Faith." They allure us to linger through the "long drawn aisle," or sombre lighted cloister, till the mind becomes tinged with a religious melancholy-till a feeling of devotional awe and reverence holds us spell-bound; then a pang of sorrow will arise, when, like the Children of Israel by the waters of Babylon, we think of our religious captivity and sigh for the day when we may sing halleluias in this temple of our Fathers. York saw palmy days in early times, when the Romans held the sway over Britain. Emperors kept court in that city, and no doubt it possessed many christian temples when the Emperor Corstantine resided there. But without dwelling on this period, of which we have no certain information, we turn to the times of the Saxons, when Christianity became deep rooted in England. The first church of St. Peter in York, was built in the year 626. A blasting hand has oft swept over the city and laid prostrate the sacred edifice; but as oft the metropolitan church, under the patronage of the prince of the Apostles, has arisen with renewed splendour. Edwin, the Saxon king of Northumbria, who had married Ethelburga, daughter of the Christian king of Kent, was converted by St. Paulinus about the year 626: but so desolate then was York that it possessed no temple that could be used by the missionaries. A building of wood was hastily constructed, and on the following Easter day, the king with his sons and many of his court went in procession to be baptized in this rustic oratory. He soon commenced a church of stone, enclosing this oratory; but it was left Oswald to complete the good work of his predecessor. The ruthless hand of Penda, the Pagan king of Mercia, soon laid waste the sacred edifice, which St. Wilfrid restored about the year 669. The next mention of the metropolitan church is in the year 741, when it was partly consumed by firean element which has waged destructive war against the church of York. In 767, Archbishop Albert erected a larger and more substantial building, which remained until the desolate reign of the Norman Conqueror In 1067, the Saxons and Danes united their forces against William. Their army was in full march to besiege Yorkthe Norman garrison within the walls fired all the houses in the suburbs which might afford protection to the besiegers; but the violence of the wind unexpectedly spread the conflagration towards the city-the towers of the Cathedral were soon enveloped in flames, and the whole fell a burning mass of ruins. The Conqueror who invariably expelled Saxons from every post in the kingdom, and filled up vacancies with Norman favourites, nominated Thomas of Bayeux to the Archiepiscopal see of York. This prelate rebuilt the church with increased splendour, far excelling any church erected by the Saxons: but it was not suffered long to flourish, for we find that, in the reign of Stephen, the Cathedral was much injured by fire. What extent of damage was sustained is uncertain. Some historians are of opinion that it was entirely destroyed, but an eminent writer,* in his history of the minster, has shown that its entire destruction on this occasion is highly improbable. After this fire Archbishop Roger rebuilt the choir in 1171, but this was afterwards removed and the present choir commenced by Archbishop Thoresby in 1352. We have now traced the history of St. Peter's Church through calamitous days, and have arrived at that period whence the present minster dates its commencement. Church building in former days was the work of years. Bishops then employed their surplus revenues in enlarging and adorning their Cathedrals. The minster was in progress upwards of two centuries. The present south transept was commenced in 1227, and the entire fabric was completed about 1426. Each portion that was added shows the rapid improvement in architectural design, and the exquisite workmanship then displayed in England. Gradually did the heavy Saxon style give way to the bolder and loftier proportions introduced by the Normans; these in turn received more grace and ornament, until every available point was "All garlanded with carven imageries." The usual entrance is on the south. On enter ing we at once stand spell-bound in contemplating the grandeur of the scene. We feel that we are in a temple that warms the soul to devotion-one which the pure love of God alone could have inspired man to erect. As we stand beneath the great central or lantern tower, the flood of light poured in from on high gives it a lofty and imposing effect. From this point we have the plan of the building clear before us. Its cruciform shape is disernible. There is a North and South transept which increases the breadth of the building. The celebrated stone screen separates the choir from the nave, and is surmounted by the organ, said to be the largest in England. The choir was the scene of the infamous exploit of Jonathan Martin, who, in 1829, set fire to the stalls, and before the flames could be got under, the choir and organ were in ruins. The restoration is nearly according to the original plan. From the choir the grand West window is seen to perfection. Drake with truth observes, that "it may justly be called the wonder of the world, both for masonry and glazing." In height it is 75 feet, and in breadth 32 feet. It is filled with stained glass, forming a splendid tableau containing a compendium of sacred history. Beneath the choir is a crypt in which formerly stood 7 altars. How galling to Catholic feelings to be shown down into these sombre vaults, and to hear their history garbled over by the verger in a showman style. In good old Catholic times the holy sacrifice of the Mass was daily offered at each altar for the soul of the founder. How many a poor suffering soul was, by the mis-called Reformation, deprived of prayers and Masses to shorten the term of their purgation. During the excavations made after the burning of the choir in 1829, portions of the early structures were discovered which had been suffered to remain when the present larger fabric was commenced. The Chapter-house, an octangular building of singular design, stands on the North of the Cathedral. It has ever been an object of admiration. Its praise has been set forth in a Latin inscription near the entrance. In this brief sketch of the history of the Cathedral, we must just give a passing notice of the dimensions of the chief portions of the building. The extreme length from East to West, is 524 feet, being 24 feet longer than St. Paul's. The breadth of the west front 109 feet, and the breadth of the East front, 105 feet. On approaching the minster, the two western towers attract first attention; they add both height and breadth to the building, and flank the grand West window, the beautiful leafy tracery of which can scarcely be surpassed. Which has thus been rendered: It is a beautiful specimen of the style of the middle of the fourteenth century. Of it may be said: "Thou wouldst have thought some fairy hand In many a freakish knot had twined; Browne's History of the Metropolitan Church of St "Ut Rosa Flos Florum Sic est Domus Ista Domorum." "This is the chief of Houses,' As the Rose is chief of Flowers." We have thus briefly traced the history of the minster, merely noticing a few of the many points deserving notice. The elaborate workmanship which adorns each portion of the fabric deserves fuller mention and more accurate de. scription. Many papers on its architectural beauties might be written, and would show forth to the readers of the Lamp, in this age of Church building, what our fathers sacrificed for the glory of God, the adornment of his holy temple, and the splendour of the services of the Church. To attempt such buildings at the present day cannot be expected-we must be content with more humble worship. But in bye gone days, when every hill was spire-crowned, every valley re-echoed the early matin bell, and every heart responded to the Angelus call at "dewy eve," the unity of faith caused a union of action, which achieved wonders. Rich and poor strove to render the highest homage to God, and clung with devotedness to their best Mother on earth-the Church. York was oft of old exposed to the storms of war, when the Scots came over the border, and laid waste the North with fire and sword. During the struggles between the Houses of York and Lancaster for the crown of England, the din of battle was heard within and around her walls; and still more was she exposed, when Cromwell's puritanical army, plundered and defaced so many beautiful churches in the land but still the Minster towers point heavenward. The ruthless hand of time has spared the beauty of its ornamental tracery, and we cannot but think that Providence has destined this and many other Cathedrals to be witnesses of the return of England to the faith. They are silent monitors, encouraging us to imitate the devotedness of our fathers in building churches to meet the wants of the age; but trust that these wants will so rapidly increase, that the cry will be, "Restore to us our birthright, the temples erected by our forefathers. The ceremony of blessing the church having taken place early on Wednesday morning, and the consecration of the high altar performed on the morning of the previous day by the Right Rev. Dr. Briggs, the imposing and solemn service of dedication was celebrated in the forenoon of Wednesday. For the Roman Catholic Church in this country it was in truth a great day-a day which witnessed the realization of many important anticipations. Men of distinction were drawn together, not only from all parts of England, but from distant countries of Europe, and amongst them came several chief dignitaries of the Catholic church. Admission to the church was by ticket; the seats, of which there are 1000, being all numbered. Long before the commencement of the service a considerable portion of the congregation had entered the sacred building, and were occupied in contemplating and admiring its stately magnificence. At the eastern end of the church was displayed a profusion of lighted tapers, one row extending from end to end of the rood loft, and another along the reredos. Tapers were likewise placed upon the different screens, and the several chapels were similarly illuminated. A profusion of fresh flowers bedecked the several altars. On each side of the nave, from the eight clerestory windows, depended ban ners, bearing the following charges:-On the north side: York, St. George, St. Andrew, and St. Patrick. On the south side: Lovetot, Furnival, Talbot, and Howard. At the time for commencing service very few seats remained unoccupied. The congregation included the Right Hon. the Earl of Arundel and Surrey; Sir Arnold J. Knight, Liverpool; Constable Maxwell, Esq., and lady, Everingham Park, Yorkshire; Henry Maxwell, Esq., Richmond, Yorkshire; Fitzherbert Brockholes, Esq., Lancashire; the Hon. C. Langdale, Haughton Hall, Yorkshire; J. B. Bowdon, Esq., and family, Southgate House, near Ekington; Carring ton Smythe, Esq.; the Hon. Mrs. Bland and family, Aldwark, Rotherham; Dr. Goldie, York; Mr. G. Goldie, Sheffield; and a vast concourse of the faithful from all parts of England. Amongst the dignitaries, clergy, and others who officiated were the Right Rev. Dr. Briggs, bishop of Trachis and vicar apostolic of the district of York; the Right Rev. Dr. Gillis, bishop of Limyra; the Right Rev. Dr. Morris, bishop of Troy; the Right Rev. Dr. Wareing, bishop of Acropolis, V. A.; the Most Rev. Archbishop Nekar, of Nabka and Koristan, near Mount Lebanon; the Right Rev. Dr. T. J. Brown, V. A. of Wales; the Lord Abbot of Mount St. Bernard; the Very Rev. Luke Barber, president of the English Benedictines; the Very Rev. Joseph Render, vicar-general of the district of York; Dr. Tate, Darlington, Durham: and the principal clergy of the diocese, as also many from the various dioceses of England. At eleven o'clock the Right Rev. Dr. Briggs, robed in his cappa, was conducted from the presbytery in Norfolk row, attended by his two chaplains, to the great west entrance of the church. He was there received by the architect, Mr. Hadfield, who, kneeling, presented him with the keys of the church, in acknowledgment of its being given up to the worship of God. Having accepted the keys, the bishop delivered them to the parish priest, the Rev. E. Scully. He then advanced into the church, where he was met by the clergy, (who immediately before had issued from the vestry,) headed by the vicar general of the diocese and the Lord Abbot of Westminster. The bishop then moved through the line of clergy, which had been previously formed on either side of the principal aisle of the nave, and proceeded to the sacristy, followed in procession by the clergy. In the sacristy the bishop was robed in full pontifi cals, and the procession once more moved round the ex terior of the church on the northern side, and entered together the great western door in the following order:Mr. Hadfield (architect,) Mr. Bulmer (artist,) bearing offertory dishes. Banner of the Lord of the Manor. Clergy, two and two, in surplices. The Lord Abbot of Westminster in the habit of the Benedictines, wearing his cowl. With him the Vicar-General of the Diocese in cope. Thurifer. Two Acolites with lights. Master of the ceremonies. Lord Abbot of St. Bernard, in cope and Mitre, with his chaplain, a Cistercian Monk, in a habit of white woollen stuff. Right Rev. Bishop Brown, in mitre and cope. Chaplain in surplice. Right Rev. Bishop Wareing in mitre and cope. Chaplain in surplice. |