of the Loire to consult the more experienced physicians of the metropolis, and had been directed to the Maison de santé at Auteuil for the benefit of the pure air. But all in vain. The health of the uncomplaining patient grew worse and worse, and it soon became evident that the closing scene was drawing near. Of this Jacqueline herself seemed conscious ; and toward evening she expressed a wish to receive the last sacraments of the church. A priest was sent for; and ere long the tinkling of a little bell in the street announced his approach. He bore in his hand a silver chalice containing the consecrated Host, and a small vessel filled with the holy oil of the extreme unction hung from his neck. Before him walked a boy carrying a little bell, whose sound announced the passing of these symbols of the Catholic faith. In the rear, a few of the villagers, bearing lighted wax tapers, formed a short and melancholy procession. They soon entered the sick-chamber, and the glimmer of the tapers mingled with the red light of the setting sun that shot his farewell rays through the open window. The vessel of oil and the silver chalice were placed upon the table in front of a crucifix that hung upon the wall, and all present, excepting the priest, threw themselves upon their knees. The priest then approached the bed of the dying girl, and said, in a slow and solemn tone,— "The King of kings and Lord of lords has passed thy threshold. Is thy spirit ready to receive him?" "It is, father." "Hast thou confessed thy sins?" "Holy father, no." "Confess thyself, then, that thy sins may be forgiven, and thy name recorded in the book of life." And, turning to the kneeling crowd around, he waved his hand for them to retire, and was left alone with the sick girl. He seated himself beside her pillow, and the subdued whisper of the confession mingled with the murmur of the evening air, which lifted the heavy folds of the curtains, and stole in upon the holy scene. Poor Jacqueline had few sins to confess,-a secret thought or two toward the pleasures and delights of the world,— a wish to live, unuttered, but which, to the eye of her self-accusing spirit, seemed to resist the wise providence of God;-no more. The confession of a meek and lowly heart is soon made. The door was again opened; the attendants entered, and knelt around the bed, and the priest proceeded,And now prepare thyself to receive with contrite heart the body of our blessed Lord and Re 66 deemer. Dost thou believe that our Lord Jesus Christ was conceived by the Holy Spirit, and born of the Virgin Mary?". "I believe." And all present joined in the solemn response,"I believe." "Dost thou believe that the Father is God, that the Son is God, and that the Holy Spirit is God,three persons and one God?" "I believe." "Dost thou believe that the Son is seated on the right hand of the Majesty on high, whence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead?" "I believe." "Dost thou believe that by the holy sacraments of the church thy sins are forgiven thee, and that thus thou art made worthy of eternal life?" "I believe." "Dost thou pardon, with all thy heart, all who have offended thee in thought, word, or deed?" "I pardon them." "And dost thou ask pardon of God and thy neighbor for all offences thou hast committed against them, either in thought, word, or deed?" "I do!" "Then repeat after me,-O Lord Jesus, I am not worthy, nor do I merit, that thy divine majesty should enter this poor tenement of clay; but, according to thy holy promises, be my sins forgiven, and my soul washed white from all transgression." Then, taking a consecrated Host from the vase, he placed it between the lips of the dying girl, and, while the assistant sounded the little silver bell, said, "Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christi custodiat animam tuam in vitam eternam." And the kneeling crowd smote their breasts and responded in one solemn voice, "Amen!" The priest then anointed the invalid. When these ceremonies were completed, the priest and his attendants retired, leaving the mother alone with her dying child, who, from the exhaustion caused by the preceding scene, sank into a deathlike sleep. "Between two worlds life hovered like a star, "Twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge." The long twilight of the summer evening stole on; the shadows deepened without, and the nightlamp glimmered feebly in the sick-chamber; but still she slept. She was lying with her hands clasped upon her breast,—her pallid cheek resting upon the pillow, and her bloodless lips apart, but motionless and silent as the sleep of death. Not a breath interrupted the silence of her slumber. Not a movement of the heavy and sunken eyelid, not a trembling of the lip, not a shadow on the marble brow, told when the spirit took its flight. passed to a better world than this: "There's a perpetual spring,-perpetual youth; H. W. LONGFELLOW, Outre-Mer. It |