O Lord, that my whole hope and confidence may be in his merits and Thy mercy. Enforce and accept my imperfect repentance; make this commemoration available to the confirmation of my faith, the establishment of my hope, and the enlargement of my charity; and make the death of Thy Son Jesus Christ effectual to my redemption. Have mercy on me, and pardon the multitude of my offences. Bless my friends; have mercy upon all men. Support me by Thy Holy Spirit in the days of weakness and at the hour of death; and receive me, at my death, to everlasting happiness, for the sake of Jesus Christ."

66

Boswell depicts the touching scenes of Johnson's last days. Having asked his friend and physician, Dr. Brocklesby, to tell him plainly whether or no there was hope of his life, and receiving the answer that he could not recover without a miracle," he replied: "Then I will take no more physic, not even my opiates; for I have prayed that I may render my soul to God unclouded." This he did, in peace and resignation, full of hope above all in the propitiatory sacrifice" of Jesus Christ.

There is so much evidence in his prayers, and in his conduct at the last, of true piety, humble self-accusation and compunction, that we may hope that this great man, with all his faults, and with all his ignorance-great as it was-of so much that any Catholic child knows, was yet faithful to the light that was in him, and is to be reckoned, therefore, amongst those men of good will and in good faith who belong to the "soul" of the Church Catholic, with whom they had not the joy of being in visible communion.

THE WAY TO HEAVEN

"Is there a road to Heaven, a road?

And what name do they call it, say?' "O child, I think its name is God,

The Way, the Light upon the Way."

"And may I take that heavenly road?"
"Child of my love, you surely may,
Though blood and thorns bedew the sod,
And steep the way as Calvary's way."

"When may I take that thorny road?"
"To-morrow?" "And why not to-day?"
His feet on flowers have only trod,
Such rosy feet for the hard way.

"Oh mother, let me take the road."
"Child, are you tired so soon of play?
Steep is the hill and heavy the load
Upon the Way of Life, the Way."

Yet still he cries to take the road,
And I, I dare not say him nay-
Though sharp the flints, cruel the goad
Upon the Way of Life, the Way.

O child, God-speed you on the road!
O little feet so loth to stay,

Run on the road to Heaven that's God,

The Way, the Light upon the Way.

KATHARINE TYNAN.

"I

THE UNFINISHED SYMPHONY

DON'T think I ever looked on life properly until I met you."

Their acquaintance had not dated back for years; this was the third day of their meeting, and somehow, it seemed as if they had known each other all their lives.

It was all so strange. But then, is not everything in life wonderful, strange and marvellous? He had come to this lovely seaside resort where a wonderful orchestra was to him the great attraction. In the hotel were some forty or fifty people, and, on the first morning of his arrival, several of the guests were standing in the porch waiting for the sound of the breakfast gong. The rain was coming down in torrents, and each one looked up at the heavens as if dreading some supernatural visitation, for the air was then full of reports of earthquakes in foreign lands.

The guests were the usual types to be met with the men, comfortable, sleek, well-to-do, all bent on getting the best value for their coupons-the women, well dressed, and all, more or less, beautiful from a merely physical point of view, but lacking a something, an undefinable something-soul, perhaps, would best express it-that lends a wondrous charm and character to the face.

He had just come down and looked out. If the weather were bad, the outlook was worse.

"What a dreadful downpour!" He heard a soft, gentle voice at his side. He turned to the speaker, and uttered the first words that came to his mind, which were passwords of his at home, so it was natural that he should say them"That's all for heat!"

She looked amazed, as well she might. "Heat?" she said. "Well, you are a very new kind of weather prophet!"

"Don't mind me!" he replied. "You see I come from a very hopeful country. When the sky is full of black clouds, we either pretend not to see them, or we turn our back on them and deliberately look out for the bit of blue!"

Just then the gong sounded and all filed into the spacious breakfast parlour. They were placed at different tables, but, though apart, she could not help noticing that, though he was only a new arrival, those with whom he was placed caught the infection of his good humour, and laughing and merriment came from their table, quite unlike the silence of the others, where breakfast was taken as though it were a solemn and painful duty, something like going to the dentist, for instance.

And sure enough, he was a true prophet, for during the progress of the breakfast the sun shone out gloriously. The prophet managed to make the English girl's acquaintance somewhat more formally, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world for them to find themselves a little later sitting side by side on the terrace before the hotel.

"You're not Irish?" she asked, incredulously.

"Now, what did you expect?" he said. "I suppose you thought you'd see a man with a shillelagh or a whiskey bottle roaring out' begorra.' Ah, no, we're not a bit like that."

And so, one word drew on another, and he gave her some idea of the affectionate nature of the people of his country; the warmth of their greetings, the kindliness of their hearts and their wonderful anxiety to do good turns and neighbourly acts for those with whom they came in contact.

"Now," he said, "we wouldn't be content to simply say 'Good morning,' like these people here" (pointing to the other guests who were coming out to listen to a troupe of minstrels singing outside). "The humblest of our people would say 'Good morning kindly,' or 'Good day and God bless you,' or 'Good day and good luck,' or for instance, they'd say to you, 'A good husband to you, Miss.' Why, we'd be calling you Alanna or Asthore before you'd know where you'd be!"

She was charmed when she knew the meaning of those dainty words. It was a revelation to her coming from a country where reserve is cultivated and where the heart is crushed in the earliest days of its infancy.

And then the groups scattered, and for the moment they separated.

He found himself listening to the orchestra, drinking in the most glorious music rendered by the best artists. He gave himself completely to the spirit of his surroundings, and every

fibre of his body and every perception of his soul responded to the strains of the music, that told him that in those strains the great masters were giving to the world the story of their joys and sorrows, their sadness and their terrible struggles to achieve, not merely fame, but even existence.

And so with him, whose soul loved music to distraction, the time passed till Saturday, and a week-end announcement tempted him to leave this holiday resort for a day or two. As he walked down to the steamer, he met her on the way, and told her of his departure.

"You

"You're so different from all the other men here," she said, nodding her head in the direction of the hotel. make me laugh."

"Well," he said quickly, "that's better than making you weep any way; the world will do that for you, without any trouble."

"And then," she said, you make me think. I've never looked on life properly until I met you."

"Ships that pass in the night," he said, "only we've answered the signals. We're kindred spirits meeting on the road of life."

With a charming impulsive motion, she extended her hand, saying, "I'll expect to see you on Monday!

She was a fine specimen of womanhood; gentle in manner, and with a voice soft and true, and an intonation that told you she had known sorrow.

The return passage was rough, and he was a bad sailor, so he did not put in an appearance at the dinner on the Monday evening or at the breakfast on the following morning. In the evening, going towards the pier, he met her alone.

"I'm in trouble," she said, "I so wish to go to the band, but my sister is not coming, and I feel as if it were not the right thing to go by myself!

If it were anyone else, he might have thought this a strange remark; on her truth and innocence he would have staked his life.

Yet he was absurdly shy. Perhaps she would think he was forcing his company; anyhow, he did what he thought was the right thing. "I am going," he said, "and shall be delighted to have the honour of your company;" and so, they