The other, crossing her forehead and breast, muttered many inarticulate prayers, closing each withand keep us from all evil,' Amen.

Their voices had some effect in recovering the priest from the stupor in which he seemed plunged. The woman,' he said, in a voice that betrayed the same emotion as appeared in his quivering lips, is distracted; there is no use of my remaining here.'

His passage from the room was, however, obstructed by the two women, who, throwing themselves in the door way, wildly flung back their loose cloaks, and stretching out their arms, poured forth, with vehement gesticulation, importunate supplications for his stay.

Ah, then! Father M‘Mahon, avourneen, sure it's not after minding that poor demented creature you'd be: and does'nt your reverence see that the senses is'nt in her, by reason of the sore heart-scalding she's got? and sure it's not for the matter of what she'd say to your Reverence,- though a burning shame and sin it was to hear that same blasphemy from Christian lips-the holy saints be about usbut sure it is'nt for the matter of that, and she not sensible like, that you'd turn your back on them that are lying there waiting your help; and it was he that was respectful to you ever and out, and never was lacking in his duty, nor in his dues; and will you go for to turn away from him now, and he wanting your help? and that poor, young, innocent creature there, that has 'nt put seventeen years over her head this blessed day? and sure we know, though your hand was 'nt over them when the breath was in them, it will be all one yet, if you'll only try for them now.'

6

I tell you,' said the priest, vainly endeavouring to speak steadily, if my-if I-I would be glad to give the poor souls the benefit of the clergy and all the aid the church can give, but I must not stand by to hear that church insulted in my person; and unless Mrs. Moran wishes me, I cannot proceed with those holy ceremonies, but I am still willing to do so if she signifies her desire—for I—I—I pity the poor woman.'

'Och then! Mary Moran, do you hear that? And did you ever hear such condescension in your born days, and after all your wicked blasphemy? fall down and thank his reverence, and he'll lay his hand to the work this blessed minute. Ah! then, you stubborn creature, is the heart within you turned into stone, that you do not speak the word at once? has the nature left you entirely; and your poor husband, that never said you no from the day you took him, and your sweet young girl, that was the pride of the country lying there before you, and their souls in suffering, and you wont speak the word to have them released.'

The repeated shakes that accompanied these words, had more effect than the words themselves; Mary Moran looked up, and vacantly inquired what they wanted. The substance of the foregoing harangue was repeated, and it recalled to her darkened eyes, all the indignant and fiery light that had sparkled in them before.

And is it he that destroyed the body that can deliver the soul?' she asked. 'Wasn't it his blessing sent them down to their cold grave, and can his prayer draw their souls from their place? No, no; his oil and holy water, and blessed candles, may go

to them that needs them; can they draw the lifeblood back to the heart he drove it from? can they put the bloom again on the face he withered? No, no; let him give back the breath he has taken from the body, and he may think he has power over the

soul.'

The priest could bear, or would hear no more; many a horror-struck face and listening ear were gathered to the door, but his two former opponents overwhelmed with consternation, no longer opposed him, and impatiently pushing his way through the crowd without, he passed hastily through the kitchen, and was several yards from the house before any one had recovered sufficiently to endeavour to soothe or expostulate with him. Then two or three men darted to the door, and running after him, assailed him with a repetition of all the absurd expressions of reverence and submission in which the ignorant Romanist addresses the PRIEST, even while as in the present case, very contrary sentiments are entertained for the man. No answer, however, did they receive; and to a final request to be allowed to see him safe over the fields, a short and decided refusal was returned. Priest M'Mahon went on, alone and rapidly, until striking into the fields, his path lay over a high and green hill, which on one side afforded a view of the wide-spread lake, over which the moon, half-shrouded in a cloud, was partially shining. He sat down on the grass, and placing an elbow on each knee, leant his face on his extended hands.

[To be Continued.]

THE CANKER OF THE RELIGIOUS WORLD.

[Continued from Vol. II. page 516.]

I HAVE to express my regret, in returning to this subject, that circumstances prevented my giving to the last letter of M. S. the serious consideration it required, at an earlier moment. I have also to regret that I shall be compelled to recriminate on the score of vagueness: M. S. laying that failing to my charge, and I imagining that it is quite as apparent in the last communication bearing that signature.

It seems to me, that that letter so generalizes the argument, and keeps at such a distance from the turning points of the case, that I have no other way of coming to close quarters with the writer, than by just quoting passage after passage from the letter itself, with a running comment.

After a passage or two of cursory observation, upon which I have nothing to remark, except that I do not see their bearing upon the question, M. S. says, "While there are around us multitudes of orphan children, whose parents were placed by a divine appointment in circumstances which rendered it impossible for them to make any provision for the future wants of their families, ought we to find cases of equal destitution among the descendants of those to whom God had given wealth, and consequently the means of averting poverty from their children?" (p.69.)

From this, and from a passage in the following page, it is evident that M. S. has mistakenly attributed to me a position which I have never assumed or asserted to wit, that wealth itself was a crime, and that it was the duty of the possessors of it to disencumber themselves of its weight as soon as possible. I believe that no passage in any of my papers will bear this construction. It is not the possession of wealth, but the pursuit of it, that I have been aiming to contemn. I suppose that it is necessary, in the existing state of things, that there should be rich men in the world, and I know that it is "the Lord " who "maketh poor and who maketh rich," and as against his ordering there can be no appeal, so, with it there ought to be no dissatisfaction. But two things are most distinctly declared in his word, with reference to wealth,-first, that it is not that pure, unmixed good which men are too apt to think it,- and secondly, that the pursuit of it is a clear and positive evil.

Making no absurd objection, then, to the possession of wealth, and not arguing, as M. S. seems to suppose I should, that the possessors of it should "distribute all their inheritance in objects of benevolence," it follows that I am not called upon to answer my opponent's query, "Whether we ought to find cases of destitution among the offspring of those to whom God has given wealth." If God has given a man wealth, and then suddenly calls him out of this life, it follows, I suppose, that his children will inherit that wealth; and thus no "destitution" at all will occur.

But some one, perhaps, will rejoin, "Oh! then, you do admit the propriety of his leaving the wealth which God has given him, among his children;