duties of his station and required him to do them, what other desire had he, than to lead all alike to heaven, and on the great accounting day, to present you all, not one soul missing from your number, to his and your heavenly Father,-able to say: "Lo, here am I, and the children whom thou gavest me!"

Time will not permit me, my brethren, to speak to you as I would wish, of his large instrumentality in establishing in this country the admirable society of the Sisters of Charity. He was, as I have heard Mr. Bruté express it, "the true father of that institution from the beginning." When Mother Seton first came to this neighborhood, he gave her a home upon this very hill. He freely shared his limited means with them: he supported them when other support they had none. He was their confessor and director during the first years of their existence as a society. To him Archbishop Carroll entrusted all that related to them. He instructed, trained, directed, formed them all. He initiated them into the practice of the rules laid down by St. Vincent of Paul. He consoled, encouraged, and sustained them amid trials and difficulties which would have shaken souls less generous than theirs or his,—and from the scanty stores of his own poverty he supplied them with bread, when, but for him, they had no alternative but to abandon their undertaking and disperse, or to perish for want of food. Tell me not, my friends, of heroism on the battle field; tell me not of that wonderful man who, at this very time, was leading half a million of slavish followers to the cannon's mouth, and exercising such a strange ascendancy over their maddened minds, that, while blood was spouting from their death wounds, they would stifle the groans of agony and summon all their remaining breath to shout "long live the emperor!" There was more true heroism then exhibited in St. Joseph's vale, when this man of God had taught that delicately reared and softly nurtured mother and her little band of resolute associates, to suffer without complaint day after day and month after month the gnawing pains of hunger, confident that He who

VOL. II.-No. 6.

feeds the ravens would not forget them, and in the hope that they might yet grow up into a community and one day be able themselves to feed the hungry, to rear the forsaken orphan, to nurse the destitute sick, to throw themselves like tutelary angels between the raging pestilence and its trembling victims. That hope has been realized! Yes, departed benefactors of the poor-Dubois! Seton! thousands of orphans, rescued from want, and misery, and death, or worse than death, have raised their grateful hands to heaven imploring blessings on you-a thousand orphans will this night remember you in their prayers!

I have spoken of the rude beginnings of Mount St. Mary's college. In a few years the scene had changed, as if by magic. The thicket was cleared; the stumps of trees removed; the grounds enclosed and broken into terraces. The water, "taught a better course," flowed through artificial channels to the spot where it was needed; the garden bloomed with flowers and presented to the eye the fruits of many climes; there were shady walks along the mountain's side or on the margin of the murmuring brook; the rude arbor, the moss-grown rock, the rippling stream, the wild notes of warbling birds allured the lover of books, and, with the grand, and beautiful, and hallowed scenes around, converted him into a lover of nature and of God. The adjacent village had largely improved; the neighborhood was gladdened with signs of increasing prosperity. The two institutions, the seminary and sisterhood, like brother and sister, had grown up together, or, sisterlike, the latter was maturing the faster. Scholars had gone forth from both mountain and valley to tell their friends, what beautiful things were adoing in a wild sequestered spot by the foot of the Blue Ridge mountain.

A noble edifice, the fruit of so many years' unparalleled exertions, was on the point of completion, and a hundred youthful students were ready to occupy it. The feast of Pentecost, on the sixth day of June, 1824, came and passed away. The last rays of a bright sun, ere it set behind St. Mary's mount, had gilded the cross which

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rose from the cupola of this majestic structure. When that sun again appeared in the east, it threw its cheerless beams on blackened walls and smouldering ruins. Startled by alarming cries, at the dead of night, from the tranquil slumbers which visit the good man at the close of a well spent day, Mr. Dubois beheld at a glance the ruin of his hopes. What, think you, my friends, were the first words that escaped his venerable lips? Did he impeach the justice of heaven? Did he call down vengeance on the head of the cruel incendiary ? Ah! it was a beautiful sight to see, even by the light of a disastrous conflagration, that good old man, heart-broken, as you may suppose, arming himself deliberately with the sign of the cross, meekly bowing his head in token of submission, and exclaiming with patient Job: "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." (Job i, 21.) His spirit quailed not through that dreadful night. His characteristic fortitude did not forsake him. Conquering the agonies of despair, he calmly gave directions or observed in silent grief the progress of destruction. Soon he pointed out some defects in the plan of the flaming edifice, which he would remedy in the next ;—and this too, though the snows of sixty winters had whitened his head, and he had gone beyond his present means in erecting the building which was destroyed. And again he realized his prediction. He had the public confidence and sympathy. God prospered all his labors; and a new college arose, like the fabled Phoenix, from the ashes of its predecessor. He not only finished it, though he remained but two years longer here, but he also presided over the erection of a still more spacious academy at St. Joseph's.

He was then called to the vacant bishoprick of New York. It was hard to leave his dear mountain and beautiful valley,-to tear himself away from the spot which he had found a wilderness and made a paradise. It was hard to enter on new and untried fields of labor, when declining years and increasing infirmities entitled him rather to seek repose amid the beautiful creations of his own religious zeal and charity. But

he was never known to shrink from toil or hardship, and he bowed to the decision of that authority, which forms the very keystone of the grand arch of Catholic unity. He was consecrated to the see of New York in the autumn of 1826. His career as a bishop was one of unostentatious, but active and untiring benevolence. He visited frequently every portion of the vineyard entrusted to his care. He was a kind father to his clergy, a friend and benefactor to the poor, a pastor full of solicitude to supply abundantly the spiritual wants of his extensive diocess. He won the hearts of many by his paternal kindness and the charm of his engaging manners. He edified all by the regularity of his pious conduct, his pure disinterestedness, his charity and fervent devotion. Many obstacles he had to encounter; but he overcame them by patient meekness and unconquerable resolution. And if this good prelate was forced to witness scenes which wounded his paternal heart; he also saw much, when he looked over his great field of labor, to console and gratify him-new congregations arising, religion continually advancing, institutions of charity multiplying around him, the cooperation of many zealous laborers in the vineyard, and, among them, of gifted and exemplary priests whom he himself had educated. He saw Sisters of Charity, whom he himself had trained, laboring in their angelic vocation in the asylum, in the schoolroom, in the hospital. He saw continually some hundreds of orphan children, to whom he had been a provident benefactor: and this good and holy bishop, though far from his native country and kindred, was encircled by a numerous, devoted, and affectionate family, depending on his spiritual care, looking up to him for counsel and direction, and imploring the divine goodness to scatter blessings on his path and prolong and brighten the evening of his days. When the charge of his great and populous diocess had become too weighty for his shoulders bent by age and weakened by infirmities, he sought a coadjutor among his children of the mountain, and placed the heavy burthen on shoulders that are able to bear it. There too he had erected a college

for ecclesiastical and secular education, and seen it ruined by devouring flames. Yet he lived to behold his fond hope realized in the establishment of an institution founded on the plan, governed by the rules, and directed by the children of Mount St. Mary's.

Which of you, my brethren, will ever forget the scenes which you witnessed when Mr. Dubois revisited the spots ever dearest to his heart, the mountain and valley? How did the whole population of the country around pour forth to welcome their benefactor, and to ask a father's blessing from him! It was as if a patriot hero were returning in triumph to his country delivered by his arms. When he was last among you during the summer that is past, you saw indeed but the wrecks of that vigorous constitution, that unbending will, that noble resolution to do good to men and promote the glory of God, which, in his better day, appeared in his firm step, his erect bearing, his quick, commanding eye, his countenance stamped with energy and firmness, yet beaming with benevolence; but you still recognized and were delighted to behold that paternal look and gracious smile, that desire to make every one happy, that prompt politeness and amiable manner, which made him at all times the perfect model of a Christian gentleman; and you were edified too to observe the lamp of charity burning brightly to the last and throwing its rays on that humble piety and tender devotion which ever marked his character.

I find that character, my brethren, briefly, but accurately sketched on the page of sacred Scripture. It is in the description of the just man conducted by heavenly wisdom. "Wisdom hath delivered from sorrow them that attend upon her. She conducted the just when he fled from his brother's wrath, through right ways; and showed him the kingdom of God and gave him the knowledge of holy things; made him honorable in his labors and accomplished his labors." (Wisdom x, 9, 10.) Yes, this divine guide delivered him from all his dangers, and trials, and sorrows, and turned them all into occasions of merit; led him by the hand, when he fled from the wrath of his impious brethren, who, in the

name of reason and philanthropy established the reign of Atheism and terror; opened to his view the kingdom of God, by making known his holy will and choosing him to be the interpreter of his oracles and "dispenser of his mysteries;" employed him in the most useful, the most charitable, the most honorable labors-in labors which will cover him with fame, and glory, and benediction for all eternity; and brought all his labors, no matter how arduous or unpromising, brought them all to a happy issue and crowned them with complete suc

cess.

Need I tell you that such a life was closed by a tranquil and happy death? Patient, resigned, and devout to the end, the last object that caught his eager gaze was the sign under which he "had fought the good fight" and won his victories,-the image of his crucified Redeemer; the last words that trembled on his lips, were the holy names which in infancy a pious mother had taught him to lisp,-Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! As ripe and mellow fruit falls in due season to the ground,- -as the flower hangs its head and droops and dies, as the sun at evening's close sinks calmly into ocean's bed, leaving tracks of glory behind, so did he quit this earthly scene, without a struggle and without a sigh,with a prayer on his lips and a sweet hope of heavenly rest in his heart, and a sweet thought of the mercy of Jesus, whom he had loved and served all his life, hovering like an angel over his departing spirit.

He has gone, we trust, to that blest place where many souls saved by his ministry joyously awaited his coming. Shall we accompany him thither? Shall we dispel those fears which ever qualify our strongest assurance, and follow him to "the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and the company of many thousand angels, and to God the Judge of all and to the spirits of the just made perfect ?" (Heb. xii, 22, 23.) Shall we fancy the rapturous greetings given by his numerous children in Christ to their welcome father, and attempt to conceive the re-union in bliss and glory and in the bosom of their Saviour of the kindred spirits of a Dubois, a Bruté, and a

Seton! But, no; it is not given to us to lift the veil which hides from mortal eyes the mansions of the blest. We are not privileged, as was the valiant Machabeus, when in heavenly vision he beheld the high priest Onias, "a good and virtuous man, modest in his looks, gentle in his manners and graceful in his speech, and exercised from a child in all virtues, holding up his hands" before the throne of God, "and praying for all the people." (2 Machab. xv, 12.) We rather pray for him; we offer to God for him the Lamb that was slain to take away our sins; because perhaps he may need the assistance of our prayers and sacrifices, and if he need them, he is most clearly entitled to our grateful remembrance before the altar of God; and because, whatever the case may be, the charity which wishes to help a suffering soul will not go unrewarded. He is entitled to our gratitude; for though he died as he had lived,— poor in the goods of this world, rich only in spiritual gifts and graces,-though he left no earthly property or wealth to be divided; yet hath he bequeathed to us a precious inheritance, a legacy of inestimable value, to make us bless his memory and be mindful of him in our prayers. He has left us our college and seminary. He has left you this church and all the blessings of a constant pastoral attendance. He has left bishops to the church, pastors to the faithful, instructors to the ignorant, mothers to the orphans, sisters, kind, devoted sisters to all that need the ministering hand of charity. Can any honor that Christians may pay to the departed be too great for such a benefactor? And if all the world beside forget him, will Mount St. Mary's be ungrateful to his memory? God forbid, my brethren, that we should merit such a reproach! But he has left us something more-the beautiful example of his virtues. To you

most particularly this rich inheritance belongs. For thirty-two years he was your pastor; for eighteen years he lived in the midst of you, the pattern, as well as the leader of his flock. For if he showed you the road to heaven, he also led the way: he was always "as the eagle enticing her young to fly and hovering over them." (Deut. xxxii, 11.) Remember, therefore, his virtuous conversation, and take to heart the lesson which his life conveys. Shun the counsels of the ungodly; walk not in the ways of sinners, and never sit in the chair of pestilent impiety, blaspheming what you do not understand and with silly weakness scoffing at the wisdom of your Creator. But give your heart to the law of God: meditate thereon by day and by night : seek his will, to know and to do it. Clinging with devoted loyalty to the old, hereditary faith of Christendom, show forth in your lives the spirit which has animated, and the virtues which have adorned in every age the saints and heroes of the Church. "Remember," according to the advice of the Holy Ghost," remember your prelates, who have spoken to you the word of God, and considering well the end of their conversation, imitate their faith." (Heb. xiii, 7.) If you imitate the faith of Mr. Dubois, his lively, active, generous faith; you will imitate all his virtues. You will imitate his zeal, his charity, his humility and self-denial, his ardent piety, his spirit of continual prayer. And you too shall be "like the tree, which is planted near the running waters: you shall bring forth fruit in due season; your leaf shall not fall off,-and all things, whatsoever you do, shall prosper:" for whatever may be your lot in this life, every thing which you shall do in the state of grace and for the love of God, will add a gem to the crown, with which "the Prince of pastors" will wreath your brows in heaven.

T. LINUS was succeeded by St. Cletus,

ST.

a Roman, the son of Emilian and disciple of St. Peter. Fleury has remarked that when the apostles established the seven first deacons at Jerusalem it did not appear that they had ordained priests; on the contrary, they reserved to themselves alone the functions since communicated to priests. St. Paul giving his orders to Titus and Timothy for the regulation of the new churches, spoke only of bishops and deacons. Yet we are assured that St. Cletus ordained twenty-five priests for the districts of Rome. He was probably the first who made use in his letters of these words, "Health and Apostolic benediction." He governed the Church twelve years, seven months, and two days. He laid down his life in defence of the faith in the year 91, during the second persecution under Domitian. The Church honors him as a martyr, as well as St. Linus. But some authors have supposed that neither one nor the other ended his days by a violent death, and that their attachment to the faith alone won for them this glorious title.

St. Clement I succeeded St. Cletus in the apostolic chair. This Pope, son of Faustin, a Roman by birth, but a Jew by descent, as he himself declares by calling himself of the race of Jacob, was attached to St. Paul, who calls him his fellow-laborer, and whom he followed to Philippi where he participated in his sufferings. He afterwards received episcopal ordination from St. Peter, either to govern the Roman Church during his absence, or as an apostolic bishop who, without being attached to any particular see, was destined to assist the apostles in their ministry, or to preach Jesus Christ to those who were strangers to his name. Some authors have been of opinion that St. Peter had designed St. Clement to succeed

him, but that Clement did not wish to receive the pontificate till after St. Linus and St. Cletus, who had been coadjutors of the first vicar of Jesus Christ, either through humility, or from fear that this nomination would be a pernicious precedent. The persecution of Domitian against the Church induced Clement to establish seven notaries at Rome to collect the acts of the martyrs, and to preserve the memory of their triumphs. A schism having arisen among the faithful of Corinth on account of two priests being unjustly deposed, this Pope wrote to that Church, in the name of that of Rome, an admirable letter, which, with the fragment of another epistle, is the only work of his production extant. There is some foundation for the supposition that St. Clement was the first Pope who sent bishops into Gaul. These bishops were St. Trophimus of Arles, St. Gatian of Tours, St. Deny of Paris, St. Paul of Narbonne, St. Austremoine of Clermont, and St. Martial of Limoges. Thus France owes to his memory a particular debt of gratitude. Under the Emperor Trajan, Clement was exiled to Taurica-Chersonesus. Rufidian, by the order of the emperor, threw him into the sea with an anchor attached to his neck. He had held the see nine years, six months, and six days. With him closed the first age of the Church,-that age when the faithful had but one heart and one soul, that age which beheld the Author of sanctity and the secondary founders of his kingdom. We must observe that from the establishment of the Church the bishops had adopted some exterior marks of their dignity; thus the apostles, St. John and St. James, and the evangelist, St. Mark, wore a plate of gold upon their heads, in imitation, undoubtedly, of the chief priests of the old law, whose foreheads were bound