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ive tasks; such, for instance, as the first cares necessary to bestow upon the dead. She watched most affectionately over the novices consigned to her for training, treating them with a motherly tenderness, and reaping from them a rich harvest of passionate attachment in return. It caused some surprise at the mother-house of the Order in Nancy to find how willing the nuns were to set out for Bonn, and how heart-broken at leaving it, while all other changes of abode were regarded by them with indifference. The reason is plain,' said Sister Augustine; I treat my nuns as persons, not as logs of wood.' She wished for the obedience of intelligent souls and loving hearts, instead of the cast-iron submission which these poor young creatures had acquired under a different management. Yet this submission did not exclude a curious spiritual conceit. One day

the man-servant of the Hospital went down to the cellar with a heavy load, and unfortunately stumbled against a newly-arrived novice. "How dare you push me thus!" cried the young girl; "do you not know that I am a temple of the Holy Ghost?"" The Superior, quite dismayed, repeated these words to a friend, who gave way to hearty laughter. There is nothing to laugh at,' said Sister Augustine; 'I am more inclined to cry.' It is to be hoped that in this case, as in many others, a longer stay at the Hospital replaced these sanctimonious airs by a more healthy and genuine piety.

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Sometimes a very different case fell into the hands of the Superior, and was not treated with less success, as when by gentle and considerate usage she transformed a helpless young novice, awkward and useless through sheer timidity and humiliation, into one of the most intelligent and devoted of assistants. The activity of Sister Augustine extended, beyond the immediate sphere

of her duties, to other maladies than those of the body; she knew how to weep with those who wept, and to rejoice with rejoice with those who rejoiced. 'Poor women in extreme want, princesses suffering from the isolation of their high rank, men discouraged with the struggle of life or uneasy as to the path of duty, children who had been hurt at play, were all equally the objects of her solicitude. She found the means of doing good to all.' What is, perhaps, more rare than this gift of womanly sympathy, she had the secret of perfect toleration, and would not consent that the dying moments of her patients should be harassed by any attempts at proselytism, while she had ready words of the truest spiritual comfort for all. Proud to have many Protestants among the sufferers under her care, she watched jealously over the religious peace of her hospital, and would no more assume the functions of a priest than those of a physician, restricting herself carefully to the duties of a sick-nurse; to which wise and honest caution the incontestable greatness of her success in her chosen sphere is rightly attributed.

She was more than satisfied with the career she had chosen. 'The sick are our treasures,' she said; 'the sufferings of soul and body our dominion, and war itself enriches us.' But the idea of regarding these works of mercy as capable of securing salvation was singularly odious to her, and still more detested was the secret vanity of a soul arraying itself in imaginary perfection, and thus displaying itself before God and man. This, the peculiar error of conventual life, she too often met in others and dreaded in herself. Formerly things were better with us,' she said; but since the Jesuits obtained the spiritual direction of the convents, we are invaded by the spirit of lies.....Let me groan under any other woe than

this infernal hypocrisy. I implore Thee, my Saviour, enlighten me; give me strength not to rest till I am absolutely true-true with myself and with all the world.' This prayer was discovered in a fragment of her journal, of which unfortunately she destroyed the greater part. It would not be too much to say that the truth and honesty for which she longed were attained by her.

Other sources of irritation beside these graver troubles were not wanting. Some of our readers may have entered a majestic Continental cathedral, and for some time been overwhelmed or entranced by

'the chanting choirs, The giant windows' blazoned story, The height, the space, the gloom, the glory,'

and all the hitherto unimagined splendours of such a shrine. Then a small sharp discord in the visual harmony has made itself felt as the eyes have alighted on some little altar decked with gaudy artificial flowers, hung with tinsel votive offerings, supporting the image of a saint which seemed to be modelled in coloured sugar or discoloured wax. Such contrasts abound in the vast Romish system as in its mighty minsters. The small idolatries bestowed on consecrated medals and Sacred Hearts aroused the contempt of Amélie de Lasaulx; not one of these objects could be discovered in her hospital. The fraudulent modern miracles of La Salette and Lourdes went deeper; they aroused a longing to weep. No miracle was ever wrought in the Hospital of St. John; an ecclesiastic who arrived there full of the wonders worked in other convents, and eager to add more to his pious chronicle, heard this fact stated by the Superior, much to his dismay. The higher dignitaries of the Order, having had their attention drawn to these things, did not forget them;

though the practical efficiency of Sister Augustine, the perfection to which she had brought her hospital, the enthusiastic attachment which she inspired, shed so much lustre on the system she adorned, and rendered her so valuable an agent, that her deficiencies were not immediately visited with punishment.

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She could exclude these wretched superstitions from her own sphere of action, but not from that presided over by the Mother-General of the Order at Nancy, whither she had yearly to repair for a nine days' 'retreat.' She looked forward to this season of religious exercise with dismay for many weeks beforehand, and was many weeks in recovering from its depressing influences. Many spiritual treasures have been unpacked here,' wrote she to a friend on such an occasion, but few have suited me. The chère Mère soon perceived it.' A single specimen of these 'treasures' will amply suffice to justify her aversion: Towards the end of the exercises, the Mother-General announced to the assembled nuns that she had discovered an admirable likeness of the deceased Sister N which she would now show them. All pressed forward eagerly, for the departed Sister had been well known and loved; but those who first caught sight of the "portrait" hastily drew back with a cry of horror; the second rank of spectators, pushed forward by this movement, at once manifested the same distress. In her turn Sister Augustine, already on her guard, beheld this portrait, which was no other than the skull of the dead nun, detached from the skeleton by the Mother-General.' The intention of this repulsive proceeding was the spiritual edification of the poor nuns, and this the Mother-General considered she had greatly promoted; although Sister Augustine, when addressed on the subject, vainly endeavoured to persuade her that

the so-called edification consisted merely in a distressing shock to the nerves of the Sisters, some of whom were aged, others ill, and wept and trembled long after the revolting exhibition.

These 'spiritual treasures' were the less pleasing to Sister Augustine as she had freshly in her memory such scenes of anguish and horror as would render any other memento mori abundantly needless for the rest of her life. The great campaigns of 1864 and 1866 had furnished her with a wide field of terrible interest in which to practise the lessons learnt in her hospital. At the outbreaking of the war with Denmark, a certain number of Sisters of Charity was detached to follow the troops in the scene of war, and among them one of the foremost was Sister Augustine. She went almost joyously, happy to find a wide field of active charity open before her, and happy, too, as a child in a journey, however difficult and painful, which was not to terminate in one of the 'retreats' she dreaded and loathed. Step by step she followed the army, working constantly in the ambulances, suffering from the sufferings she beheld, rejoicing when she was able to alle viate them, and wishing that 'certain gentlemen at Berlin' could for a week only engage in the same work and listen to the groans of their victims. Nothing can give an idea of the horrors here,' she wrote from Düppel. We passed 'We passed the night on the high-road, separating the living from the dead, and moving them to the ambulances.' She was constantly summoned where the work was most difficult. It was a pleasure to the physicians to work with her, and the wounded derived a profound security from the energy of a zeal sufficiently active to care for the special wants and feelings of each individual sufferer. The four months she thus spent were of incal

culable service to her; she learnt in them how little the grace of God is limited to mere external signs. 'I have never felt my deprivation of the holy Communion,' she wrote, 'and I have never been so near to God.' On her return from this hard and blessed toil, the quiet routine of hospital and convent life was at first almost oppressive to her; she sighed for her ambulances and her dear Schleswig-Holstein.' There were

such noble creatures there; and God would, perhaps, again make her exchange her hospital for an ambulance.

Her prevision was too soon fulfilled by the outbreak of the war with Austria. She departed for Bohemia, and was at first almost crushed by the surrounding horrors -the bloody mud' of the battlefield through which she had to pass to her charitable toils. But her courage did not fail, nor did the priceless cheerfulness which she always had ready for the service of the suffering. She despised no smallest womanly office, washing and sewing for the sick and wounded when she found a moment to spare from attending to their injuries, which she did with such skill, tenderness and happy gaiety as to inspire the roughest soldiers with the same filial attachment which her girlish cloister-pupils bore to her. When Sister diesstraight to Jesus!' were the last words addressed to her in broken German by a poor Italian soldier, who was not willing to die without a farewell blessing to his benignant nurse. She remembered the simple words on her own dying bed, and trusted that they contained a true prophecy.

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Differences of nationality are nothing to every faithful nurse even in a time of war-fever; but it may well be accounted singular that differences of faith were as nothing to a nun in her ministry to either body or soul. She succeeded in finding words of

religious consolation acceptable alike to Protestant and Papist, and even to the Jew who had not hitherto learnt to recognize his own longexpected Messiah in her Lord and Saviour.

She carried her loving tolerance to a point little acceptable to some of her fellow-workers. It is impossible not to feel a little pity for the Catholic almoner who was sharing her toils in the ambulances of Rendsburg; and who, on entering the chamber where a Lutheran patient lay dying, beheld Sister Augustine standing humbly at the bedside, absorbed in silent devotion, while she performed the duties of an acolyte to the heretic Pastor who was administering the Sacrament to the no less heretic sufferer. It is nowise surprising that the poor Priest remained fastened to the spot in horror, allowing the Sister to complete her holy task unchecked by the words of rebuke which his dismay rendered him incompetent to utter. action was the natural outcome of Sister Augustine's daily religious life. She had drunk too deeply of the spirit of Christ to wish to check or silence any worker for the Lord, 'because he followeth not with us.'

her friends from Bonn, Dr. Busch, lent her invaluable aid in bearing this enormous burden. This physician writes: One must know by experience the fatigue of working on one's knees from morning to night, in order to appreciate such work. As for the pain caused to a heart like hers by the spectacle of such desolation, set in the gilded framework of a magnificent castle, I will not speak of it to you.' She had only straw for the beds of these sufferers, but her incessant and watchful devotion availed more for their restoration than couches of down. In all the cruel scenes which she traversed, in the very valley of the shadow of death, she did not lose what she herself styled her blessed lightness of heart.' Thus, when one day she was passing alone through the forest, she could at once forget the anxiety of the present moment and the conflicts awaiting her in her convent, rejoicing so much in the green and sunny solitude around her that she must needs express her joy like a child, springing over the heaps of stones ranged by the wayside: a pastime suddenly checked by the loud laughter of a party of soldiers who came upon her thus engaged, and who found something delightfully incongruous between her garb and her behaviour. In her girlhood she had once watched with contemptuous pity a party of dancers. Are all these people mad?' had been her silent comment on these motiveless gymnastics. Her own childlike dancing in the lonely forest did not awake such a condemnation. (To be concluded.)

But the

Her value was well recognised by the army surgeons, who said she was much more of a nurse than of a nun-a high compliment from them; and who, after the great slaughter of Sadowa, placed eighty patients under her care. She received these in the castle of Hradek, of which she had taken possession in the service of humanity, and where one of

6

THE WORK OF WOMEN IN THE CHURCH:
BY THE REV. GEORGE R. OSBORN.

OUR present topic is woman at
work; not sitting,' devout and
contemplative, even at the Master's

feet; at work for sacred ends; not busy and burdened, even with hospitable cares; 'serving,' but in the

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ment contains ample recognition of such service in Apostolic times: one Christian woman was full of good works and alms-deeds'; others 'laboured in the Lord'; another was 'a servant of the Church' and 'a succourer of many.' And in the Old Testament similar ideas are suggested. The 'virtuous woman' of the Book of Proverbs was something more than an excellent housewife, though that is no mean praise. We are told: She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness.... She stretcheth out her hand to the poor; yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the needy.' In such service our own Church has been and is abundantly favoured: 'many' of her 'daughters have' indeed 'done virtuously? As Class Leaders and Sunday-school Teachers; as Tract-distributers, Collectors for Missions, and for various other funds; in Dorcas Meetings and Mothers' Meetings, and in the service of sacred song; by working for sales and by preparing for and taking part in social and public Tea-meetings, which are often very helpful to our Church-work, in all these and in other ways the women of Methodism render it invaluable aid. The aggregate of such service defies earthly computation; it can only be told by Him to Whom nothing is unknown.

Let no word in this Paper be supposed to reflect in the slightest degree upon the workers already engaged, or the services already rendered. Of these various modes of service I do not now speak. But I will suggest three ways in which additional service might be rendered, without, I trust, unduly taxing willing helpers, possibly by enlisting new activities, and certainly to the great advantage of our Connexion. Two may be briefly dealt with.

Our sanctuaries are constantly visited by strangers, to whom a prompt word

of welcome or of further invitation might be of real spiritual benefit. When these strangers are women, how very desirable that they should, if possible, be addressed by some Christian sister! Those who have not made the attempt can scarcely believe what a field of usefulness lies open here, and with how little difficulty it may be occupied. Perhaps the visitor is a servant, or a young person from a house of business, come from the country, and feeling all the loneliness of a stranger in a great city. Or she may have resisted some pressure to attend elsewhere than at the Methodist Chapel. To come and go unnoticed will lend additional force to the efforts made to detach her from our communion; and such efforts are made continually. But a friendly word, a kind greeting and invitation from some Christian matron, or from some young maiden in the gladness of her early consecration to the Saviour, will be as waters in the desert. No more valuable auxiliary to the preaching of the Word can well be found. Nay, it is possible that if text and sermon are alike forgotten, the smile, the welcome, the kind enquiry will be recalled, and the invitation to come again will be remembered-and acted upon.

In the next place, I believe that Sunday afternoon Bible-classes for young women, conducted by ladies might be more extensively employed in Methodism with the best results. Both as aggressive and as conserving agencies they have enormous power. There are many by whom such classes are greatly needed. They

have outgrown the ordinary Sundayschool routine. Perhaps a suitable afternoon service is not accessible; and, if it were, they wish for something into which more of the social element enters. In such a class there is a noble sphere of usefulness for Christian women, and especially

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