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because the elements of any form if we would learn what they really inwhatsoever, free from essential impu- volve. The Church has jurisdiction, rity, are already contained in the Gos- by virtue of her duty towards the pels. The Incarnation is our "anthro- Depositum fidei, over exegesis. Who pomorphism,” since Jesus of Nazareth that is orthodox will question it? is "the image of the invisible God, the Again, her appeal to the ancient Scripfirst-born of every creature."'10 This tures goes upon a sense of her own, all-encompassing definition of One who call it mystical or prophetic, as it is, was absolutely real and personal can- in fact, traditional. Of course, and not be superseded. And we might that sense is justified by the New Tesboldly say that the Old Testament tament writers who exemplify it, for moves on from a less anthropomorphic "Christ is the end of the law."1 But conception of the Supreme to a greater, when we have said thus much a wide because more human, and so it leads territory is left where critics may exup to Christ. For when the lines of patiate. The general application of the picture have been completely Old Testament language and meaning drawn the Messiah appears, and what to our Lord as its consummate flower, is His name but the “Son of Man"? I do leaves all but a few passages, comparnot call this allegory; it is the thing atively speaking, without particular that happened. To show in detail how reference until or unless literary methit came to pass, by considering the ods come to our aid. "No school of exewords of Scripture and the events gesis prevails in the Fathers, or in which throw. light on them, can any- any subsequent time, to the exclusion thing be better adapted in our day than of another. Names equally great can literary criticism applied to the orig. be arrayed on either side. If the pure inal records?

mystics boast of Origen and St. AuAll this, I may be told, lies within gustine, the literal commentators glory the bounds of exegesis, and over exe- in St. Chrysostom, St. Jerome, and a gesis the Church has jurisdiction; nay, growing multitude of Catholic divines more, she has a way of her own in since the Reformation. Authority handling Scripture testimonies, viz., leaves us free to pass on with a smile the mystical, which differs much from when the African saint draws theothe literary. We must not hold out logical truths out of numbers and figour hands to the Jewish ferule, making ures curiously manipulated; we may unchristian Rabbis our masters. Have feel that his gematria resembles the we not a sufficient, because authentic, Jewish Kabbala in being at once inversion of the Hebrew in St. Jerome? tricate and unsubstantial, but the What more do we want? Let us be Church will not censure us. St. Greg. satisfied with our Douay Bible, which ory the Great has quaint "accommono one has ever thought unfaithful to dated" moralizings of a similar value the Vulgate. Why exalt a translation the lesson is always sound, the arguthat took its rise in heresy and has ment belongs to an obsolete school. proved a most effective instrument in Literary methods claim, at all events, keeping Britons isolated from the one advantage, if employed as they Catholic world?

ought to be—their principles are those That there is a certain force in argu- of reason exercised upon the actual ments like these I should be the last facts. To this extent criticism parto deny; but they require some distinc- takes of the nature of science and octions and a more precise consideration, cupies a ground common to all the 10 Colossians, 1, 15.

11 Romans, X, 4.

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Western world. It is forbidden to re- language not of the schools, but of the ject any article of the creed; but it people. does not make the creed a startiug- The people—but what people? Here point, for otherwise it would no longer I come round to the point from which be criticism but theology.

I set out. Every nation requires to be And if pure literary treatment of the taught Christianity, as the first Bible is legitimate then to get elucida- Whitsuntide of the New Covenant, in tions from Jewish Rabbis can be as “their own tongue wherein they were little blamed in the scholar of to-day born." Shall Holy Scripture be given as in St. Jerome. The Hebrew text, to them or withheld? To-morrow the edited by their ancestors, has its own elements of education will be univermerits and defects, but to overlook it sal; literature in our schools is even is impossible. How

the Catholic now winning the upper hand over catChurch regards it in the main we know echism; and I ask whether the infrom the happy circumstance that Leo spired volume is to be a dead letter, X accepted the dedication of the Rab- sacrificed to Wordsworth and Tenny. binic Bible published by Felix Praten- son at the best, or to current verses on sis in 1517 at Venice. The Compluten- a level with magazine-writing? Litersian Polyglot of 1514 bears witness to ature, says Carlyle, should be a Bible. the same consideration for the Mas- Excellent, but have we not in the Bible soretes. Rome has condemned extrav

grandest literature? Shakeagances and superstitions too often speare cannot teach us religion; the associated with Talmudic studies, but secularist therefore gives prizes to all she is not jealous of attention paid to who have learned As You Like It, and Hebrew, and by the chairs erected in exiles Holy Writ to the topmost shelf her local universities she encourages of the school library. That sacred the clergy to learn it thoroughly. As word, on which society, in spite of itthe Scriptures recover their place in self, is yet established, now surrenders seminary teaching—which the stress of the guidance of life to poets favored modern disputes will certainly bring by the local authorities who choose about-an acquaintance with the act- reading-books, to scraps of so-called ual words of Revelation will no longer philosophy culled from everywhere, to be the privilege of a few, and those little apologues and parables illustrated looked upon as somewhat eccentric. by oleographs or picture postcards. It Bible-learning demands a knowledge of is a mad world that deems itself Christhe Biblical languages. If it were tian while such things

done. fairly at home among us it would prove Brought up myself on the Bible as our a check by its very seriousness upon daily lesson, not at second hand, to me the unbalanced popular movements, it appears that education has travelled wanting as much in depth as in per- downhill, and is going ever more rapspective, that have weakened such an idly towards the deep. I would not ancient Church as that of France and put the whole Bible into children's

working disastrously in other hands; but assuredly neither would I lands. Scripture does not lend itself take the whole of it from them. to vagaries of devotion; it steadies . When I say the Bible I mean its worship, recalls the divine to the very words, not an account of it by sources of his dogma, and adds to the teacher, not any summaries or arpreaching an authority not otherwise rangements of its incomparable prose, attainable. Theology was written for but the stories, prophesies, psalms in experts; the Bible is composed in the their own phrasing, to be known here.

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after as Ruskin knew them, matter which all day long she praises God. and form together. The present neg- There is no reason why another tongue, lect of form in Catholic pages is to me spoken throughout an Empire to which perplexing. Distinction and literary the Roman was a province, should not grace were of old cultivated by Church- yield her as great a homage in the men at a period when the classic ele- Scriptures translated to do her harm, gance had been forgotten. Bossuet but now made to acknowledge her prothought it due to the Gospel that he tection. For the Church is at last seen should utter its truths in a style worthy to be the true keeper of the Bible, havof them. We, however, stand midway ing an indefeasible right to watch over between the classics, which we have it, wherever found. ceased to make our own, and the high Catholics, on the other hand, by recmodern authors whom we do not pro- ognizing the English Scriptures in their fess to know. A supreme English permanent literary form, would have standard was given us in Newman, but taken a long stride towards the unity how few are the traces of his influence in all things lawful which is a neceson the religious publications that find a sary condition of their acting on the welcome among our people! Mean- English world. To an extent which while the question I have raised, many do not realize we still speak a though urgent upon us during a good foreign language, not understood of the half-century, remains without an an- people whom we address. A common swer.

What is to be the Catholic way Bible, itself rich with the spoils of the of dealing with England's great liter- mother tongue-not so much a creation ary achievement, the Authorized Ver- of its own century as incorporating all sion of the Bible?

that was precious from ages far past Strong precedents favorable to —would be a Catholic trophy, the well policy of assimilation or reconcilement of English pure and undefiled to our are by no means far to seek. All

successors, who must put off the through the Church's missionary cam- speech of aliens that they may the betpaigns, from St. Paul's speech on the ter explain the universal creed. It is Hill of Mars, it has been her maxim to not, then, a thesis in literature that I build up rather than pull down. Her have dwelt upon for its own sake, but eclectic spirit is even a charge against an interest of deepest moment to reliher. Languages, philosophies, rites, gion. That Bible of the Imperial race, festivals, antique places of pilgrimage, which we regard, and justly, as hithcustoms beyond number, she has ab- erto the most formidable hindrance in sorbed them all. She vindicates her

the way of conversion, might surely be right to them by use and profit, as the turned to a means of Catholic triumph, man of science becomes lord of the

were we courageous enough to deal elements which he controls. Latin with it as the Fathers dealt with Greek was once the language of her persecu- wisdom and the Popes with Northern tors, now it seryes to express, with customs and usages. But I speak unmagnificent pathos, the liturgy, in der correction. The Dublin Review.

William Barry.

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HARDY-ON-THE-HILL.

BY M. E. FRANCIS

(Mrs. Francis Blundell.)

BOOK II.

CHAPTER VIII.

The summer had waxed and waned, and now it was autumn again; not such a golden autumn as had witnessed the installation of the Leslies in the previous year, but wild and wet. Some of the corn was even yet unharvested and stood brown and sodden in the marshy fields; the roads and lanes were strewn with wet branches which the never-ceasing wind wrenched from the wayside trees. The dank grass of the pastures was half hidden in places by the fallen leaves, some still green, others a sickly yellow-none of the vigorous reds, and browns, and oranges, which as a rule enliven the autumn landscape, were to be seen this year. The floods were out in the neighborhood of the river-seldom, indeed, had the springs been known to "break" so early in the season.

On one particular afternoon Richard Baverstock, seated opposite his daughter by the cottage-hearth, was in a mood that would have seemed to harmonize with the stormy condition of the world without, had it not been for a single item. He complained most bitterly of being dry.

"There, Father, do give over!" exas Sheba impatiently, claimed she tossed a darned sock on to the pile "It which she had been mending. bain't half an hour since we've a-had tea."

"Tea?" said Mr. Baverstock, with the greatest disdain. "I tell ye, Sheba, it bain't tea as 'ull quench the drith o' my mouth!"

The girl made no reply, and after a while he went on with a kind of

whimper:

"It bain't in rayson-'tis what I do tell 'ee! Here be I, so hale an' hearty as ever I've a-been in my life, I mid say. Gie I my crutch an' I'll get along the road as fast as any one. A moderate glass an' a chat wi' a friend 'ud do I all the good i' the world. Yet ye do let I sit here day in an' day out, month arter month, all alone by mysel' an' feelin' that lonesome-"

"Father, ye know I do have to go out to earn money for us both to live on."

"Psha!" exclaimed her father, with withering scorn. "You what mid be Mrs. Hardy o' the Hill, any day ye liked. Stephen Hardy told me so hisself t'other day."

"What!" exclaimed Sheba. "Ye never got talkin' to en o' sich a thing?" Old Richard wagged his head portentously.

"I did get a-talkin' wi' en though. I did think it my dooty. I did ax en straight out when he were a-goin' to keep his promise an' marry ye, an' he answered me back in them very words: 'It do depend on Sheba,' says he. 'She do know,' he says, 'she can be my wife any day she'd like to name.'"

""Tis too bad!" exclaimed the girl, indignantly. "Ye didn't ought to ha' meddled at all, Father. 'Tis for him an' me to settle. Nobody else has any right to interfere."

"Well, I be treated terr'ble bad," resumed Baverstock, returning to his original grievance. "Tuppence, that's all I do ax of 'ee. Stephen Hardy 'ud give 'ee so much money as ever ye want-ye know he would—” "I've told ye a hundred times, Father, an' I tell ye again, I'll not

“ 'Tis

take no money fro' Stephen Hardy ex- "What do I mean?" repeated her cept what I can earn. 'Tis by his wish father triumphantly. “I mean, 'twas I bain't earnin' money i the wold me as axed Stephen Hardy to have ye way, wi' field work an' trantin'; but —there now!" if he has too much pride to wish me, There was a long silence—a silence what's to be his wife some day, to so long that Richard had time to extake wage from other folks, I've too change triumph for alarm; never had much pride to take money fro’ he wi'- he seen his daughter look so strange. out it's as wage—an' I'll not take a At length, however, she seemed to penny more fro' he nor what I'd do collect her energies and forced herself from anybody else."

to smile. “ 'Tis all a girt piece o' nonsense,” "That's nonsense-talk, Father," she growled Baverstock. “What be put- cried. “Stepheni's not the man to do tin' off weddin' for?—that's what I sich a thing. He bain't sich a fool as do want to know. Theer's no sense to marry a girl he don't care about, in it. An' it's crool hard on me. If jist because her father axed him." you was once married 'tisn't here in "Bain't he?” queried Richard, with this lonesome place I'd be bidin', but returning courage; Sheba spoke quietly up-along at the Hill Farm. An' 'tisn't enough, though she looked so queer. beggin' for tuppence I'd be—my son- Come, let us hear about it," she in-law 'ud not see I go shart—" cried, still affecting incredulity.

Sheba's temper, never of the meek- one of your notions, Father. When do est, flared up.

ye think ye axed him?" “ 'Tis hard on others so well as you," "When? The night arter my accishe cried hotly. “If you could content dent, my maid—when I did think I yourself wi' a quiet life an' every com- weren't above an hour or two for this fort, an' wasn't for ever cravin' for world. I axed en solemn, as a dyin' drink, there'd be nothin' to prevent my man 'ud be like to do." marryin' Stephen now. But you know "Was that it?" murmured Sheba, her I never could trust ye."

great efes seeming to grow larger with "Well,” said Baverstock with deep anxiety. “Did ye ax en to make ye a indignation, "this is a pretty thing! So promise because ye were dyin'?" it's just to prevent your poor wold "Nay, he wouldn't make no promfather havin' a happy home for his ise, my maid," returned Baverstock, last days that you be a-holdin' out this now assuming a narrative tone, and road! Well, you

be

reg'lar being evidently pleased with his own nat'ral,” he paused for an epithet- importance. "He wouldn't make no “Jezzybel! I be sorry now I done promise an' he did tell I to my face so much for ye. Let me tell you 'tis

as he'd

never thought o' such me what made Stephen Hardy think o' thing." marryin' yethere now! So ye needn't Sheba's lips parted, but she did not be that sot up! Your wold father speak. Richard continued, chucklingmusn't meddle, mustn't he? Well ye “An' what's more, he did tell I as mid so well know as if it hadn't ha' you'd never thought o' sich a thing. been for your wold father the match But as I told en straight out, I knowed 'ud ha' never been made up."

better. "Why,' I says, 'the maid have Sheba, who had sprung from her been fond on ye ever since you an' her chair, dropped back again, pale and were children. She've never thought trembling.

o no one else, an 'she've allus hankered “What do you mean?" she cried. arter you!"

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