Although ardently engaged in his pastoral duties he yet found time for the use of his pen in the explanation and illustration of Catholic doctrine. Of his contributions to controversial literature, his nine letters on "The Importance of being in Communion with Christ's One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church," are masterpieces of logic in their exposure of the weakness of the assaults made upon the Church by Protestant writers. The letters are addressed to all "not in communion with the Church," and who are earnestly entreated "to meditate on their contents as if they were written to each one alone." A mere synopsis would fail to do justice to the sixty closely printed octavo pages embraced in the argument. The letters should be published in pamphlet form as one of the most effective even of recent publications of a polemical character, for although published more than half a century ago, they are as applicable and forcible to-day as when they first saw the light. No Catholic library should be without it, and if properly advertised it ought to have an extensive sale.

In his sermon on "The Decline of Protestantism," which was not only one of his best efforts but which, on account of the striking character of its title, as well as of the irrefutable evidence produced, attracted general attention and provoked bitter retort, he was assailed by both press and pulpit throughout the country. But the Archbishop's proofs and arguments could not be controverted and he rested secure in his position, the strength of which has been proved by the experience of later years. and the acknowledged and continued decadence among the sects as proved by the statistics of church attendance. In the expression of his earnest aspiration for a reunion of the separated members of the Christian world we are reminded of the prayer breathed forth many years after in the celebrated Encyclical of the

illustrious Pontiff and statesman, Leo XIII-"Why, then," said the Archbishop, in his pathetic exordium, "why, then, should we not unite in supplication that God will reconcile to the fold of Christ these upright but as yet noble wandering brethren who are wasting their strength and their lives on the field of Protestantism? Why should we not pray that the day may be near when the missionary from London may meet the missionary from Rome in the propagation of one and the same doctrine, bringing all nations into the One Church and impressing upon them the belief in one Lord, one Faith, and one baptism?"

Whenever the opportunity offered, the Archbishop never failed to refer to the important, the indispensable part which Catholics performed in the early discovery and settlement of the country, and of their services in the War of Independence, as well as in the progress and development of the Republic. In his lecture on the "Catholic Chapter in the History of the United States" he called attention to this phase of American history. "The Catholics," he declared, "had been here from the earliest dawn of the morning. They have shared in your sufferings, taken part in your labors, contributed to the common glory and prosperity of your country and theirs, and neither the first page, nor the last page, nor the middle page of your history would be where and what it is without them."

In the practical, grave and serious. character of his writings and addresses, his lectures and sermons, there is little if anything to suggest an inclination to the poetic muse, but in his early manhood, during his college days, he exhibited no ordinary talent for versification that if cultivated would have entitled his effusions to favorable notice as giving promise of future excellence. if not of assured success. But whatever ideas he may have had on that question, they were not permitted to engage his

mind to the exclusion of the solemn and sacred duties to which all the energies of body and mind were consecrated from the moment of his ordination. Still, as an evidence of what may be called the sentimental, the emotional and aesthetic side of his nature, the following selections from his poetic contributions will be read with much interest:

GLORIA TIBI DOMINE

Depart awhile each thought of care,

Be earthly things forgotten all; And speak, my soul, thy vesper prayer, Obedient to that sacred call; For hark! the pealing chorus swells; Devotion chants the hymn of praise And now of joy and hope it tells, Till fainting on the ear it says, Gloria tibi Domine,

Domine, Domine.

Thine, wondrous Babe of Galilee!
Fond theme of David's harp and song,
Thine are the notes of minstrelsy-

To Thee its ransomed chords belong. And, hark! again the chorus swells,

The song is wafted on the breeze,
And to the listening earth it tells,

In accents soft and sweet as these,
Gloria tibi Domine.

My heart doth feel that still He's near,
To meet the soul in hours like this,
Else, why, oh, why, that falling tear,
When all is peace and love and bliss?
But, hark! that pealing chorus swells
Anew to thrilling vesper strain,
And still of joy and hopes it tells
And bids creation sing again,
Gloria tibi Domine.

ODE TO DEATH

King conquers king, and slave his fellow slave;

But slave and king shall fall

In thy sepulchral hall,

Whilst thou, grim monarch, shall triumphant

wave

Thy iron sceptre o'er their equal grave,

Dread conqueror of all!

Those fools who fight for lords and thrones,

To thee at length shall yield
The helmet, lance and shield,

And, oh, when the last scene of Nature is closing,

When this spirit of mine shall burst forth and be free,

How calm could I rest, on thy bosom reposing,

Thou home of my fathers! Green Isle of the sea.

There were about twenty other poems no less meritorious, all of which appeared in Adam's Sentinel, a weekly paper published in Gettysburg, about twelve miles from St. Mary's Seminary.

While it is true that John Hughes was in his early manhood when he entered upon the advanced studies of the collegiate course, his high intellectual endowments, and especially his remarkable memory, enabled him ere long to overtake and pass those who had started much earlier in the race. His memory was, in fact, so tenacious, particularly in the matter of details, that he rarely if ever forgot the minutest portions of the knowledge he had acquired by study or reading, whatever the subject-theology, history, science, or languages. I remember a striking instance of this rare gift of memory which is entitled to brief mention. The occasion was the delivery of a sermon in Washington which he had dictated the day before the occurrence; and although he had not read the transcribed notes the discourse was, with hardly a change in the order or phraseology, an almost verbatim report of the original as dictated. It was his extraordinary memory, in combination with his brilliant oratorical talents, which gave him the marked superiority he displayed in his many public controversies. But notwithstanding the facility with

which he mastered his studies he was one of the most diligent of students, and much of the time that others gave to rest or recreation he devoted to his books in preparation for the eagerly desired and longed-for day of his ordination. Nor was this habit of study abandoned in after life, though held in subordination to the rigid performance of his priestly duties and labors. Whatever spare time he had was given to the study of the most important modern languages, in which he had so far succeeded that he could converse fluently in French, Spanish and Italian. At the close of his college career he had become a master of Greek and Latin.

In addition to his love of learning-not only for the eager desire of acquisition, but for the opportunities and advantages it gave him in a life of incessant activities his cultivated and aesthetic tastes found special enjoyment during his visits to the Holy City in the purchase of such paintings as his limited means enabled him to secure, among which were numerous copies of Raphael's cartoons, which he presented to Mr. Peter Cooper, the celebrated philanthropist — with whom he was on the most friendly terms-for his Institute.

Forty-three years have elapsed since the illustrious prelate and statesman passed away, but the results of his labors, the inestimable services which he rendered to the Church of which he was one of the strongest pillars in this or any other age, still remain. The antagonism aroused among the opposing sects by his fearless exposure and persistent opposition to the proselytizing and insidious schemes of the Public School Society are now matters of history, but the justice as well as the vital importance of the cause for which he contended and for which he was ready, if need be, to offer the supreme sacrifice of life itself, is now frankly conceded by the fair-minded and impartial without

distinction of religion. His motives are no longer impugned, and the fierce invectives and accusations that were uttered in the heat of controversy by the partisan and the bigot have been silenced by the glowing eulogies that were pronounced by the leading officials of the nation, the State and the metropolis, from the President down.

There was hardly a dissenting voice in the general tribute which found generous expression in the columns of the unbiased press of the country. It was evident that the mists of prejudice had been dispelled from the popular mind, and that the bitterness engendered by religious strife had given place to a just estimate of the true motives and a clearer and a higher appreciation of the principles and purposes that directed and inspired the religious and public life of the first Archbishop of New York. The popular mind, rising above the narrow bounds of sectarian feeling, had at last recognized the true character of the man, the prelate and the citizen; it estimated at their intrinsic value the intellectual ability, the high moral character, the heroic devotion to the duties of his sacred office, the unsullied reputation of his private life, his loyalty as a citizen of the Republic and his patriotic services

when called upon at a critical juncture to aid in preserving the integrity of the Union.

To those by whom he had been assailed and accused as the insidious foe of popular government and constitutional liberty he indignantly repudiated the charge, and then stated for himself, as well as for his Church, the true Catholic position on the vital principle of Human Freedom and the Rights of Conscience.

"I have," he declared, "always preached that every denomination, Jews, Christians, Catholics, Protestants of every sect and shade, were all entitled to the entire enjoyment of the freedom of conscience, without let or hindrance from any other denomination or set of denominations, no matter how small their number or how unpopular the doctrines they professed."

Should the Nation, or the State of which he was one of the most distinguished citizens and statesmen, one day erect a suitable testimonial to his memory, no more eloquent or expressive inscription could be graven on the pedestal which would uphold the colossal figure of the illustrious prelate-statesman, John Hughes.

[THE END.]

W

V

HITE bursts of electric light, mingling with the yellow gas from the old-fashioned lampposts, lent a stagey unreality to the concrete pavements gleaming with recent rain. Corinne, hurrying through the cold dampness of the winter evening, shuddered at the darkness. It was only six o'clock, but a heavy mist was trailing up from the river and the passers-by seemed to creep in and out of it with alarming stealthiness.

Lafayette Square, with its bronze horseman, tall tree trunks and thick-set evergreens, seemed to hold ghostly as well as earthly terrors. Even the disproportioned cherubs, perched on the pedestal of the great Frenchman's statue, looked unfamiliar in the wavering lights.

Corinne gave an audible sigh of relief when she reached Senator Penworth's door, and running up the steps, she passed the butler with a friendly nod of recognition and continued on her way to the door of Marian's cozy little

sanctum.

"May I come in?" she asked, tapping gently.

Marian turned from the mirror where she stood coiling her dark hair, “Corinne? That's a welcome voice."

Corinne pushed open the door. "Even if I've come to dinner?"

bring me." She threw off her fur coat and leaned luxuriously against it. "If I were big and strong like you, and had your poise of mind and body, I wouldn't be afraid of anything. As it is, I'm afraid of everything-six o'clock darkness, dogs, and cats, and monkeys, and men and women-"

Marian smiled. "I don't believe my poise of mind ever impressed any one before," she said, turning again to the mirror. "I'm a little late getting dressed this evening. There was a tea at the Chinese Minister's."

"I know, aunt went. I don't like Chinamen-I tried to talk to one the other night and, in my strenuous effort to make conversation, I asked if he danced. He said, no, they had people dance for him in his country. I hate them more than ever now. Their pigtails give me the creeps."

"But think of the brain behind the pig-tail," pig-tail," said Marian, reflectively. "Some one was telling me this afternoon that he has Mexico. Portugal, fully onehalf of Central and South America, and us, under his care. That's too much for any man-"

"Then, perhaps he will give us up. I hope so. I prefer the black Minister from Hayti."

Marian smiled again. "I believe you are cultivating prejudices, Corinne." "They're not cultivated. I've always

arms. "Even then," she said.

The younger girl sought out her favorite chair before the fire. "There are so many things that I want to talk to you about that I made up my mind I would come and see you this evening, even though it was late and I had no one to

airing. You see I'm candid and egotistical and you're neither. Perhaps that's the reason we get along so well together."

"Perhaps."

Corinne rattled on: "And my manifestations are not half so interesting as