and shell-fish, and then to become a shelter for the fish that seek their food, only to be preyed upon by others larger and fiercer than themselves.

There, see! are numerous shells and curious mosses thrown up from the treasury of oceanuseless where they were-but if some clever hand will cleanse them from their dross, and polish and sort them, how beautiful they will be-those shells of every hue; and yet not tinted in vain, but for some wise end, some bounteous purpose, some providential destiny.

Here is a dead body-cold-stiff! Poor sailor! the ocean, thy adopted mother, has wafted thee kindly once more to a home-the home of the grave; and strangers will bury thee in a strange land, far from all that may love thee; and no mother will weep over thee a mother's tear, nor sister wreathe a garland of the wild flowers, that daily she may

renew.

Observe that man. Sadly he sits beside that wreck; he was the owner of the vessel which but yesterday rode gaily at anchor in the harbour-a strong, tight bark, ready for a voyage. He laments, uselessly bewails, his sudden loss: the wreck must be broken to pieces, sold by lots, all to be burnt, or applied to uses for which it seemed never to have been destined.*

Such was my contemplation. I likened the world that I had left to the hurricane; my present state was

* The foregoing contemplation is, in every particular, a scene which I witnessed in the West Indies in my tenth year.

the calm that followed, and the rising sun was the quickening spirit of religion.

The remnants of the wreck were my remaining propensities and failings; those that were floating far and wide were my evil deeds-their scandal, that might be made an excuse to sin by others whom I had influenced, and thus the Evil One would find his prey.

The mosses and shells were the faculties of my mind-Will, Memory, and Understanding—which would now be divinely trained and directed to the work of edification.

The dead body-the carcass-was self-will-was self, now no longer living, if it was still unburied, and resigned to decay without reluctance, in spite of the heart's suggestions.

The disconsolate owner of the stranded bark was the spirit of the world, that might now lament in vain the wreck of all that it had in me-all that was now to be burnt or applied to other uses,-uses which the spirit of the world could not conceive.

My first day after the retreat was a holiday for me in both senses of the word: recreation for the body as well as gladness-exultation for the mind.

Two of the novices were ordered to take me for a walk in the vicinity. We conversed cheerfully on the rules and regulations to which I was now to conform; and they seemed surprised, I remember, to find me so happy in my lot-so eager to run the race, to fight the battle, to ascend "unto the holy mountain."

G

On meeting my brothers at recreation after dinner, I received congratulations on all sides-radiant, sweet looks, that seemed to reflect the emotions of gladness I felt in being called to their brotherhood.

My duties began in the afternoon, I think, with "manual works," but my probation did not virtually commence till the morning after. A preliminary idea of life in the Novitiate will be given in the following chapter; meanwhile I shall enable the reader to judge of the results of the Novitiate in my individual case, by transcribing a portion of a letter written to a friend in London, within a month after my admission. With this friend I corresponded during the year. It is necessary to state that he was my fellowstudent at college, and is a Roman Catholic. His letters were always given to me open: that is, with the seal broken; my letters were given to the Superior open, and he sealed and sent them to their destination whether they were read, or merely glanced over, I cannot say. This was perfectly understood and agreed to on my part. I merely mention the fact as an elucidation: the extraordinary sentiments which my letters contained went forth "by permission," either read or glanced over. I state the fact, the reader must draw conclusions.

This letter, which has been kindly returned to me at my request, bears date the 8th of March, and is headed thus: "From my sweet Hermitage at Hodder." Curiously enough, the name and day of the month are in Greek. It is written on a large sheet of paper. The first twenty or thirty lines relate

to some literary matters I had on hand when I left London: totally foreign to the present purpose, except a certain note which was to have been appended to a passage, and which called attention to a curious old book written by a Jesuit-the same which is alluded to in the introduction as "Hints on Etiquette." The letter proceeds as follows:

"However, now it (the note aforesaid) must be anathema! for although our good Superior gave me leave in the first instance to write the note, he has since expressed his doubts whether it might not be detrimental to the Society, by exciting researches which may be directed to a wrong end, in these times of atrocious scandal. To such reasons I submit unqualifiedly; nay, to the slightest intimation. You will, therefore, call on, and request him to omit the note, without explaining reasons, but merely by second thought. However, I leave all to your good judgment, do what you think fit, and you will do right. There was a time when I might have preferred my own darling will in such a moment; but, thank God! I make the sacrifice with pleasure, so that you may consign it 'emendaturis ignibus' aut, in mare Creticum portare ventis,' and God be praised! On its end I said, On its end I said, Laus Deo semper,' as I said in its beginning, 'Ad majorem Dei gloriam'-now, anathema sit!

"And now, my dear friend, having eliminated these preliminaries, let us turn to our honey-comb, and sip of its sweets. Daily I grow more and more enamoured with this terrestrial paradise; daily my

heart overflows with love to my God, who has been so singularly kind to me! I shudder when the memory of the past rises in judgment against me! How I fluttered on the abyss of infidelity! You remember the wanderings of my mind-the specious arguments she framed on the basis of impassioned flesh. Yes, I was almost a Deist, and imagined I served God in simplicity of heart. But the winter is past, and the spring-flowers of repentance have budded in my poor soul. For all God's mercies may his holy name be blessed! I talked to you of a 'system' which I had framed; I have given it to oblivion, fearful of the curse pronounced by the oracle of Truth-Corrupti et abominabiles facti sunt in studiis eorum, &c. &c. Now I am cured; now I begin to relish the milk of Truth; and, from the midst of my soul, I exclaimHow happy and enviable is the mental condition of those, who, cradled on a boundless Faith, and cheerfully sleeping on a magnificent Hope, can feel edified by every act of piety-can relish every legend, however absurd in its conception, and rest secure as to the merit of their minutest practice, in the presence of their God! The sceptic, puffed up with a proud exaltation of mind, may smile, and see an exemption from all such 'absurdities' in the abyss of God's mercy; but he must still confess that his faith is but weak, and his hope but frail; for if we would enter into life, we must become as little children.'

"Yes, my dear friend, without virtue no one can be happy. I was high-spirited before, but only now,