for so many, and so of others.-But in the lapse of time, certain prayers were enjoined, or certain alms-deeds specified, by which a part of the time for the canonical penance, might be abridged. Hence, you see, for such a prayer, twenty, thirty, or an hundred days. indulgence; or for such an alms-deed, a plenary indulgence, that is to say, a full discharge from the canonical penance.

"It is not a discharge from sin, then, but merely from the punishment, remark, Virginia," said Louisa.

"This is an important distinction, dear miss," resumed Rowland; "for no sin can be forgiven by an indulgence. To be cleansed from sin, three conditions are necessary: namely, contrition, confession and satisfaction: of these, contrition, or sorrow, is indispensable, under all circumstances: without it, confession is useless, and satisfaction or the canonical penance prescribed, or indulgences granted, will be of no value."

"How differently is the thing represented by Don Iago," exclaimed Virginia, with warmth. "There is nothing which that unfortunate apostate treats of that is not entirely misrepresented," said Rowland.

"You remember, mamma, the definition he gives of works of supererogation, do you not," asked Louisa.

"True," returned Virginia; "but is it not correct?"

"Correct, my dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Wol

burn. “Mr. Rowland will answer that question."

"Don Iago and other enemies of the church have pretended," said the Father, "that by supererogation, was meant a vain attempt to do more than human nature, with the grace of God, can do. This is absurd. What sensible man would belong to a religion that could teach such a doctrine?"

“What then is meant by supererogation?" asked Virginia.

66

Doing more than I am absolutely bound to do," replied Rowland. "For example, if, as a Catholic, I abstain from flesh on Fridays and Saturdays, I do that which I am bound to do: but if I abstain through a spirit of mortification on Wednesdays also, that would be a work of supererogation. There is a poor person lying dangerously ill in a small hovel about a mile off, you are not bound in conscience to visit that person, but if you should put yourself to the trouble, through a motive of charity and humanity to go to her bed-side and administer solace to her last moments, then you would perform a work of supererogation-but it must be understood that such a work will not be sufficient for salvation, unless the Catholic complies with his essential duties. We must do that which God requires of us first, and afterwards do more: and the more that we do, will draw down on us graces from heaven."

"All this is a very reasonable and pleasing doctrine," said Virginia.

"It is to be regretted that it is so little understood," said Louisa.

"For

"Indeed it is;" returned Virginia. my part, I had no idea of the true meaning of those things. But speaking of abstaining from flesh," she continued, "is it not expressly said in scripture: that which entereth into the mouth injureth not? It would appear, therefore, that the obligation imposed upon Catholics is unwarrantable."

"That which is eaten injureth not of itself, my dear miss, the meat is as good on Friday as on any other day: but there is a command issued by the church, and by it must all her children abide. St. Paul declared that if meat would scandalize his brother, he would never eat it. But to come to something decisive on the subject, let me ask you what was the cause of the fall of Adam? of his death, and that of all of his posterity? of original sin, and ail the evils flowing from it, from the period of his fall down to the present day? Was it not eating the forbidden apple?" Here Virginia startled. Now, was not that forbidden apple good in itself? It was perhaps more delicious than any other in Paradise. It was not the apple, then, that caused all these calamities, it was the violation of a command given by the Creator not to eat it. This is precisely the case with us: the meat in itself is good at any time, but there is a command not to eat it on cer

66

tain days; we are all bound to obey the church, for he that will not hear the church,' says Christ, let him be as an heathen and publi

can.

"Is not this quite satisfactory?" asked Louisa.

"It must be so to any reflecting mind," added Mrs. Wolburn.

"I must acknowledge that it is not only satisfactory, but it is a most pleasing and heavenly doctrine," returned Virginia." And little is wanting to change me entirely.

"You would then consent to become a Papist, Virginia?" asked Louisa, rather cuttingly.

Virginia closed her eyes and was silent. The nick-name recalled to her memory the prejudices in which she had been educated, the calumnies which she had heard, and believed, and feasted on, the opposition and hatred of the Bramswells, and her dearest friends to the Catholics, and above all, her late interview with Dorson.

66

Virginia is too sensible, my dear," said Mrs. Wolburn, "not to be willing to embrace the truth."

"At the expense of the whole world"-she said with great earnestness and feeling-and wept.

*Matth. 18. 17.

CHAPTER VIII.

"Rest thee, my soul, from endless anguish freed,
Nor science is thy guide nor sense thy creed:
Faith is the best insurer of thy bliss."

Dryden.

NOT far from the church, sloping down a gentle declivity, the grave-yard, the last resting place of wearied mortal was situated. The top of the ascent was crowned with a rustic cross, which seemed to address the pilgrim as he wandered by that lonely and consecrated spot; behold the hope of all whose remains lie at peace in this humble inclosure. Oh, who would not wish to repose in death under the shade of that instrument of all his hope and all his solace! without the cross, life hath no charms, sickness no comfort, death no hope: and the tomb over which waves a dark cypress, or droops a solitary willow without the cross, is indeed a place of gloom and horror.

The grave-yard was surrounded by a stone wall topped with a white railing, and the path which led to the gate, circulated through a grove which, by its stillness and calm, bespoke the spot, to which it conducted the wanderer.

As the evening was inviting, Mrs. Wolburn proposed that they should visit the grave-yard. "Mr. Rowland," she said, "if it is not putting you to too much trouble, a walk to the graveyard with you, would be a great favour.'

Virginia at first evinced an unwillingness to