And I, in a glass, but darkly, perceive the incipient page

Of Thy holy Book is emblazoned with the transcendent light That streams from the star-crowned vision, treading the demon's

rage,

And shadowed in far Revelations, like suns in a starlit night.

Human, we follow the human to strain towards the Divine; The earth-spirit reaches to spirit by earthly love beguiled: Nay, shall we do Thee dishonour, if we pass from the splendours of Thine,

And rest our aching eyes on the face of the WOMAN AND CHILD?

P. A. S.

K

THE SPANISH ADVENTURERS

INGSLEY'S Westward Ho! and novels of a like stamp have made us familiar with the Spanish adventurer of the sixteenth century, as seen by English eyes. But like so many portraits of men of a nationality alien to that of the writer, the picture is painted all in dark tints.

We know the type well. His mental characteristics are a greedy lust of gold, a lust almost as strong for cruelty, and an overweening and fantastic pride. His skin is very dark, he wears a small pointed beard, and his black piercing eyes almost meet across the bridge of his nose. There is some truth in all this, but it has its bright side.

It is a wonder that the good in the Spanish adventurers in the New World was as pronounced as it undoubtedly was, for many of the bravest, and in some respects noblest of the men who went forth from their own land to conquer fresh worlds for their sovereign, were, by their birth, outcasts of society. From their childhood all men's hands were against them, and they had never known a good parent's fostering affection. Others came of noble, but wretchedly, poor Castilian families. Their few ancient retainers had filled their minds with tales of the family's former grandeur, and of the bravery and prowess of their forebears. From babyhood, one might say, they longed

for riches to restore the ancient glories of their house, and for an opportunity to carry on the chivalric annals of the race, by their deeds of daring.

When, with the discovery and gradual opening up of the New World, the opportunity came far beyond their wildest dreams, of carving out their own fortunes, it is greatly to their credit that they set out with patriotic ambition greater than private interest, and with religious zeal stronger than either. They went to conquer new worlds, not only for an earthly, but for a Heavenly King. They carried the standard of the Cross, and with the curious inconsistency of the Middle Ages, while often violating the precepts of their own religion, they longed to bring the heathen under its beneficent sway. They were rude soldiers, and often very poor exponents of the pure and tender teaching of our Lord; but they always brought missionaries with them, and prepared the way for civilization and religion, better, some may venture to think, than religious traders who barter Bibles and whisky for ivory and india-rubber.

Cortes, the great conqueror of Mexico, often, in the heat of his zeal, perilled his own life, and the lives of his soldiers, in destroying the idols of the fierce Aztecs to plant the Cross in their stead.

Wrongheaded and cruel they often were, but at least they were ready to lay down their lives for the faith that was in them; and for this, much should be forgiven them.

Their love of country was as strong as that of Drake or Hawkins, and surely it is not more wrong to love the gold of the Indian, and take it, than to thirst for that of the Spaniard, and fight for it, and sometimes steal it. The fact that their heroes have rosy cheeks and sturdy English limbs seems to blind many an English writer to moral shortcomings.

As a rule, the Spaniards were true and loyal to each other, though indeed to this there were notable exceptions.

About the time of the conquest of Peru, which began in 1525, a little band of adventurers crossed the Andes. For days they journeyed through regions of perpetual snow. Their provisions were exhausted, and around them there was nothing to yield food. Their path was strewn with the bones of their horses, which when they died of privation were fallen upon and devoured by the famished men. Above their heads hovered a cloud of condors, great birds of prey, waiting till the exhausted voyagers should afford them a like banquet. There were women in the little band, who had followed their husbands even here. One by one men and women dropped out to die, and in several cases a comrade or a husband, willingly stayed and faced death

in those awful wilds to cheer the dying moments of some loved

one.

There is another great instance of loyalty. In this case it is to one left behind in Castile.

Ferdinand de Soto, the discoverer of the Mississippi, was of a noble Castilian house, fallen into great poverty. A rich hidalgo, Don Pedro de Avila, took a fancy to the handsome chivalrous youth, and sent him to a Spanish university. When, however, Ferdinand ventured to aspire to his daughter's hand, and when his love was returned by her, the father would not hear of the match. He used his influence to obtain a captaincy in Darien for the young man, hoping that in that land of unrest he would meet his death. Events did not turn out as he wished, for after fifteen years of adventure, De Soto returned a rich and great man to his native country, and married his Isabella, who had been equally constant. He brought his wife to America, and there at the end in the great river he discovered, far from his home, his soldiers sank his body, for fear the Indians might profane his resting place. His last words to his followers were to live faithful and true to one another, like brothers, and to convert the Indians.

As for bravery, the exploits of the Spaniards speak for them. The conquerors of Mexico, Peru, and Guatemala, the discoverers of the Pacific, of the great Mississippi, and of Florida, were men, who, whatever their faults, had no lack of courage, as even their enemies admit.

We do not wish to excuse or deny their faults; indeed, no one could excuse the cruelty of which some of the Spaniards showed themselves capable. One might, however, wonder why the people under the fostering care of whose government slavery grew apace and prospered, should always be the first to cast the stone at cruelty and rapacity in others.

META BROWN.

IRELAND A NOTE OF THE CHURCH

THE

HE above title might be developed at considerable length, and justified, we think, very fully from the vicissitudes of Irish history and the present state of religion among the Irish race at home and in all the regions over which it is scattered. At present, however, this title is used only to introduce a striking passage in the Catholic World, for September, 1906. Mr. A. M. F. Cole, whose name is unfamiliar to us, contributed to that excellent New York Magazine, an extremely well written and interesting article, entitled "The Expectation of the Convert," in which he (we have ventured to prefix "Mr." to the writer's signature) discusses the high ideal that certain converts bring with them into the Church, and the degree to which this ideal is realized. One of three such converts, talking together on the subject, says that he has found all that they had expected "in a people who have kept the faith through persecution, and keep it now through sacrifice." This turns out to be Ireland. But, before we transcribe his description of what he found there, we will cite witnesses in support of his opinion. Priscilla Beale,* foundress of the Sisters of St. Louis in Ireland, came to Ireland a Protestant. Happy exile!" she wrote afterwards. "If I had not come to Ireland, I might never have been a religious, perhaps, not even a Catholic." "When I am asked," wrote Madame Belloc (Bessie Rayner Parkes), what it was that made me a Catholic, I answer' Ireland.''

To go back to the three converts and their expectations in entering the Church: the writer of the article which we have described is asked by his two friends to describe what he saw in Ireland to realize his hopes of the practical influence of the true faith. He answers:

"There is too much; I can only cite random examples of the whole. There, parents give their dearest and best children to the Church and the cloister, and thank God for taking them; the rich give thousands to charity; the poor share their last crust with the poorer; the churches are crowded at daily Mass; the confessionals and the altar rails are thronged with men and women, rich and poor. Heroic virtue is preached from every

A short sketch of her life has lately been issued from the office of the Irish Messenger of the Sacred Heart, 5 Great Denmark Street, Dublin.

pulpit as mere matter of course, and the people drink in the teaching. The priests are just spiritual fathers: more or less kind; more or less holy; but always parental in authority and responsibility. The people regard them with filial reverence and love. Drunkenness I have seen there occasionally, but never the indecency or brutality associated with that vice here; the most drunken man will steady himself against a wall to salute a passing priest or nun. Disorder and dirt I have seen there, as here, in poor parts; but never have I found lack of purity or of gentle manners. I saw a pauper lunatic, in her death agony, clasping a crucifix in her hands. I saw a great, silent crowd watching a burning house. I wondered at their silence, till a red mass crashed down into the street, where firemen worked splendidly. As it fell, the arms of that great crowd were upraised. 'O Sacred Heart!' came in one quick cry from hundreds of voices. Then I understood their silence. I saw polo played by the finest players in the world. My companion pointed to the handsomest man and most dashing player of all. That young fellow,' he said, 'means to go into a monastery next week.' In the streets I saw ragged, barefooted children run to bend their knees before priest or nun, and murmur 'God bless you.' In a church, at Mass, I saw a well-dressed, elderly man, praying with arms and eyes uplifted, forgetful of all but God. The utmost condemnation I heard there, when no excusing was possible, was God forgive him.' Of the worst criminal I heard only 'God convert him.' Of the sinner overtaken in sin, 'God help him.' In joy, or in sorrow, the first ejaculation is 'Glory be to God!' In the direst straits, 'God is good.' I told an old priest how the carmen, driving full speed in crowded streets, and telling tales the while, never passed a church without saluting the Blessed Sacrament. Yes,' he said, ' and the gravest fault those men will generally have to admit at confession will be "I said 'bad loock to ye!' to the beast."' Those people do not fear death, because they already live in the spirit. They do not fear poverty, because they do not value earthly things. Human they are; passionate in love and in anger; quick to laughter and to tears. But their thoughts, words, and deeds, are saturated with Catholic faith and charity.

"I paused, rather out of breath; but aware of how little I had said of all there was to say.

"The man spoke: And these are old Catholics! Not converts like us; full of exaggerated expectation.'

"Was it exaggerated, after all?' the woman asked, thoughtfully.