all but an existence to which death was preferable. Many are the phases of misery and crosses with which the life of man is surrounded in this vale of tears; but we think the condition of the orphan, deprived of both parents, and thrown for support or existence on a strange and selfish world, the most desolate of all. A policeman was the first who was attracted to the house of mourning by the wailing and cries of those whom this night saw alone and desolate. Mrs. Doherty, attended by an Irish servant maid from a neighboring house, were the next visitors; and, after piously kneeling around the corpse to offer their fervent prayers for the soul, they prepared to "lay out" the body. This consists, as all are probably aware, of washing the corpse, clothing it in clean linen, extending it on a table or bed, and putting up such temporary fixtures as would deprive the room in which it lies of the gloom and repulsiveness attendant on such an event. After arranging all things so that she looked "a decent corpse," with the religious habit around her, Mrs. Doherty hung up the crucifix, pinned to a white linen sheet at the head of where she lay, placed her "Ursuline Manual" on her breast, and her beads on her arms, crossed on the body.

"She was a handsome, fine woman, in her day, God bless her," said Mrs. Doherty.

"Yes, any body can tell that," answered Norry. "I wonder how they came here at all."

"I know it well," answered old Peggy Doherty. "She telled me all about it afore she took bad entirely. Her man was well off, and had a brother next to the bishop in the church, in the county of C——. When landlords began to root out the people from their homes, the brother of Mr. O'Clery, her husband, wrote letters in the newspapers about the cruelty of the landlord, who was called 'Lord Mandemon;' and on that account, and because the priest took part with the poor,—as they always do, God bless 'em!—the landlord came down on Mr. O'Clery, sold out his sixty milch cows, after being twenty-one days in pound; and though the cows were worth ten pounds each, Lord Mandemon's agent sold them by auction, and he bought them back himself for two pounds each; and so the poor family was ruined. After that, O'Clery sold out another farm he had; and, collecting all that was due to him, he came to America, against the advice of the priest, his brother. He thought, he said, to live with his family in 'a free country,' where there were no landlords or tyrants, and, while he had some means, to buy a farm which he could call his own. But he took the cholera when within sight of land, and he only lived a few days. God rest his soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed. And God help those poor orphans," she said, piously, looking to where the little group, wearied from grief and crying, lay asleep on a straw bed.

"I do really pity the poor creatures," said Norry. "I suppose they will have to go to the poorhouse."

"I hope not; God forbid, asthore, the poorhouse is such a dangerous place for Catholics. I heard the priest say he would call to-morrow; and may be he will do for the little dears."

"'Tis hard for him to provide for all that are in distress," said Norry.

"I know it; but it would be a murther to let such well-reared and decent children into the hands of those poormasters, but especially that Van Stingey, whose great delight is, they say, to convart the children of Catholics to his own sect. See what he done to the little Cronin children, whose father and mother died lately."

"I heard of that; but I am afraid the priest won't be able to call on to-morrow, as he promised, if it continue to snow so."

"O yea, God forbid; but it is a terrible night. Do ye hear how it blows? O Heirna Dioa."

"Yes, and the snow is falling in mountains; the roads will be blocked up, and hills and hollows will be on a level in the morning."

"God help every poor Christian that is out to-night," said Mrs. Doherty. "I hope the Lord will save his reverence from all harm."

"Amen!" answered Norry. "He will have a hard night of it. Had he far to go?"

"He had, agra, forty miles out in Vermont; but sure he could not refuse going. The woman is just dying; and besides, she is a Protestant, who wants to die in the faith."

"Happy for her," said Norry, "if he overtakes her alive. How good the priests are to these Yankees, although they are always ridiculing the clergy; yet, if one of them is going to die, the priest not only forgives them, but is willing to travel any distance to do them a service."

"Sure that's the orders of God and the church," said Mrs. Doherty. "It is not for them alone they are working, but for God, you know."

"That's true," said Norry. "But still and all, when one hears how they are always ridiculing priests and nuns, and sees how they hate our religion, it is very hard, I think, to forgive them."

"Yes, agra," said Peggy, who was better informed than Norry; "so it is hard for flesh and blood to forgive the heretics; but, unless we forgive them, God won't forgive us. The priest knows this well; and so, if there were two sick calls to come at one time to him, as happened lately, one a Protestant and the other a Catholic, he would go to the Protestant first."

"That beats all," said Norry, "and is more than I would do, if I were the priest; for I know well all that is said of him behind his back."

"What harm will all that scandalous talk do the priest?" said Peggy. "It only does him good; and he has a blessing for being 'spoken evil of' like our Lord. He forgives all those whom God forgives; and so, if his enemy, the Protestant, falls sick, and wants his services, he goes to him first, in order that he may be brought into the church, where alone he can be saved."

"Thanks be to God," said Norry. "Is not it a wonder the Protestants don't understand this, and look on the priests and the church as their best friends, seeing that the priests are as ready, and readier, to attend to them than to the Catholics themselves?"

"How can they understand it when they are blinded by love of money, impurity, and the hatred that the ministers excite against the church in the minds of their hearers? Wasn't our Lord himself hated by those whom he most loved, and put to death by them? It is so with every priest who follows his steps, now as well as then. The world will always hate good."

This Christian philosophy was a little too sublime for poor Norry's mind, who was a long time among the Yankees, sufficiently instructed in the customs of this "free country" to be ready to observe the law of "Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, and life for life;" and who, besides, had her naturally warm temper rather spoiled from her continual rencontres with her mistress on such subjects as confession, priests' celibacy, purgatory, and other subjects too profound for the understanding of her mistress to know any thing about them, and too sacred in the eyes of Norry to allow them to be irreverently handled without saying something in their defence. It requires not only a perfect acquaintance with the sublime and heavenly tenets of Catholicity to speak of them with precision and propriety, but, in addition to a deep study of the truths of true religion, the practice of her precepts, and the frequent reception of the sacraments, are necessary to imbue the mind with the true Christian notions regarding her high commands.

Poor Norry "had not a chance," she said, of going to her duties for several years; and that is why she considered "Peggy Doherty's" talk about forgiveness so strange and unaccountable.

"Yes, a Greffour," resumed "old Peggy," "we must forgive all the world; and myself would forgive any thing sooner than kidnappin' or stealing away the children of Catholics, which these Yankee parsons are so fond of doing."

"O, so they are, the villains," said Norry. "Did they take away or steal any of this poor woman's children? 'Tis a wonder if they didn't."

"Well, besides