by a third individual, who was to share their holy occupations, and to be associated with them in the rite of baptism.

This was no other than the young Adeodatus, a son of Augustine's, and now about fifteen years of age. His mother had left Milan some time préviously, and had retired to Africa; but Augustine had retained the boy with himself; and he was very tenderly attached to him. Indeed, he appears to have been deserving of his father's affection; for, according to his own account, Adeodatus was "excellently made, though born in sin; and of rare wit and talents, surpassing those of many learned men. Him, therefore, we joined with us, our contemporary in grace, to be brought up in Thy discipline."

Strange as it may appear, Augustine had caused his son to be brought up in the pure tenets of the Christian religion. He had himself experienced all the misery of scepticism, and all the weary emptiness of philosophy; and doubtless both his heart and his understanding compelled him to believe that Adeodatus would be a better and a happier man if he were taught to follow in the footsteps of his pious grandmother, Monica, rather than if he were to wander in all the devious paths which his father had trod, and which had led to nothing but disappointment.

On the return of the little party to Milan, Baptism and the Lord's Supper were administered to them by Ambrose, after they had, in the presence of the assembled congregation, openly professed their adherence to the doctrines of the gospel, and their sincere desire to be admitted into Christ's church, and to fight under his banner.

This solemn ceremony took place in the year 387, and in the

thirty-second year of Augustine's age. The recently introduced custom of chanting was observed on this occasion; and so greatly was the sensitive nature of Augustine affected by the grand and touching melody that arose from the congregation, that he wept abundantly, "touched to the quick," as he himself expressed it, "by the hymns and canticles; the voices flowing into my ears, and the truth into my heart."

CHAPTER XV.

UGUSTINE having renounced the profession of rhetoric, and resolved to become a minister of that gospel which he had so long despised, determined to leave Milan, and return to his native land; where he hoped that his ministrations might be blessed to the conversion and the spiritual improvement of his own countrymen.

A short time sufficed for preparation; for Monica was as anxious as her son to leave Milan, and to return to her home and her friends in Africa. She had also a prophetic feeling that her life was drawing to a close; and she greatly desired to be buried in her own land.

The long, and, at that time, toilsome journey, was soon commenced. The travelling party consisted of Augustine, his mother, his son, and his friend, Alypius, who was resolved to follow him whithersoever he might bend his steps. These Christian disciples all hoped to enjoy many years of happy fellowship, and of much usefulness together at Tagaste; but "man proposes, and God disposes;" and their hopes were not to be altogether accomplished.

The travellers arrived at Ostia, intending to go from thence to Rome, and to remain there for some time before sailing for Africa. But the fatigue of the journey had already been more than the declining strength of Monica could bear. She was

taken ill soon after they reached Ostia; and Augustine would not consent to her proceeding to Rome, but resolved to remain in their present abode until her health was re-established.

This, however, was not the will of God concerning his tried and faithful servant. It seemed as if the purpose of Monica's life was fully accomplished, now that the son of her love and her care was gathered into the fold of Christ. Her soul had long aspired to the joys of heaven; and soon they were to be her portion.

Monica could look calmly forward to the termination of her earthly career; and she cheerfully resigned the long-cherished hope of again beholding her native land, and the friends whom she had known from her youth. She had earnestly desired once more to see Calanthe, to hear from her own lips a confession of her Christian faith, and to strengthen her in the pure and holy doctrines of the gospel. But even this hope she relinquished willingly, knowing that the Lord, who had begun the good work in her friend's soul, would assuredly complete and perfect it, and that he would provide a fitting instrument to carry out his gracious purpose.

It was hard for Augustine to realize the approaching separation from his beloved mother-now dearer to him than ever, since he had learned to share her faith on earth and her hopes for heaven. But he saw that she gradually declined in strength; and he also saw that as "the outward man decayed, the inward man was renewed day by day;" and the departing Christian was becoming more and more "meet for the inheritance of the saints in light."

Many were the deeply interesting conversations that were

held by this mother and son during the last days of their earthly intercourse; and brightly did Monica's tender affection for her only child burn on to the very last. Her soul was lifted up in fervent prayer for him, and with him; and her greatest delight was in holding spiritual communion with him who had so often caused her the bitterest grief, and who was now the source of her grateful joy.

Augustine watched his mother with the fondest care and gentleness; and, in his "Confessions," he has left us a touching record of the latest scenes of her life. One of these descriptions has been made the subject of a very lovely picture,* which must be admired and appreciated by every one who has either a feeling heart or an artist's eye.

Augustine stood by his mother's side at a window of their lodging while she reclined in a chair; and they looked down together on the ever-flowing waters of the Tiber, and listened to its soothing but monotonous sound. The day had been sultry, and Monica's weakness had visibly increased, warning her son that he could not hope long to retain her on earth. The evening breeze had, however, revived her; and she could once more enjoy sacred communion with him whom she loved so well.

They talked of death-of death, whose sting has been destroyed, and which is to the Christian only the gate of heaven. And they talked of what should be after death, when they should attain to the land of everlasting rest and joy.

"Yea," he says in his own expressive language, "we were soaring yet higher by inward musing and discourse, and by admiring of Thy works, that we might arrive at that region of

"The Death of Monica," by Ary Scheffer.