heart full play, without calling in reflection to one's aid; and a man has a right to question the exact prudence with which his wife acts, however kindly and like a Christian, in coming home from a morning walk with an infant of totally unknown parentage, of which she had bound herself to undertake the charge, as though she had been its mother Madame felt all the justice of his remarks, and looked pained. Louise was saddened; and pressing the poor child to her breast, wishedoh, so much!-that she could take it herself. Madeleine looked up, her little cheeks like two peaches, pressed as they had been to Louise's bosom; and the large blue eyes stared at the strange man; and then-was it some prompting angel bade her stretch out her arms towards him, laughing? Be it as it may, that night little Madeleine slept in a roughly-constructed cot, much like a wooden box, until a better could be procured, by the bedside of M. and Madame Bertrand; and a month afterwards, had he been offered the Prefectship of Paris to give up the child, he would have said, "No, I love her as if she were my own!"

CHAPTER II.

Fifteen years slid away, almost imperceptibly to those who lead a quiet village life; little seemed changed, if we except perhaps the baby Madeleine, who had become a beautiful girl, and as Père Gallin said rejoicing, when any one spoke of her comeliness, "The face is plain in comparison with the mind, for that is adorned with those lilies which are more beautiful than the glory of Solomon ;" and the good man looked with righteous pride on the soul he had so anxiously watched over, and preserved in its original image, its Maker's. All save one spoke well of Madeleine, and this was her first enemy in that village, Mdlle Lagune, who was still the crabbed mistress of L'Auberge à Bon Port; and poor Louise, who had watched so lovingly over the infancy of " her child," as she ever called the orphan girl, had returned to her aunt's sheltering care (and care assuredly it was), for now Madeleine needed her services no more, save as a friend;--she returned to soothe, if possible, the gall-imbued years in their descending vale of her crabbed aunt.

Some women devote themselves to the solace of otherstrue Sisters of Mercy, though without the garb; Louise was one of these. She had resided several years with Madame Bertrand, after this good dame had taken the orphan to her home; and though Madeleine grew up filled with grateful affection for her kind second mother, and the excellent but somewhat too hasty M. Bertrand, yet all her tenderest affections were given

to Louise, who was as mother, sister, all to the girl, who, as a deserted infant, had clung to her neck. We said Mdlle Lagune disliked her; there is an old adage which may best explain this, "The injured may forgive, the injurer never!" She felt she had acted harshly to the dying mother, and with unchristian feeling towards the child; Madame Bertrand's kindness was a living reproach to her, and yet she had not felt disposed to offend_that_lady by refusing Louise to her solicitations to look after the child. Now this latter had returned; and she felt a glowing satisfaction in heaping on the tame, quiet woman the offences of the girl of fourteen. Louise returned to the auberge when her little charge was about eight years of age, and from that period to the present hour, her love and care had been unchangeable towards the orphan, for whom Mdlle Lagune delighted to predict every species of misfortune and evil. "She was a come-by-chance; she must be of bad breed; who knew whether her mother had ever been married? Père Gallin might be, assuredly was a good man; but for the sake of the respectability of the village, he certainly ought to be a little more communicative, just to ease people's minds! Certainly she, for one, felt very uncomfortable, especially as the mother had been harboured in her house,” &c. &c. And then she would seek Père Gallin, and with hypocritically feigned sanctity declare, that her mind was much disturbed on account of these events, dreading lest some share or connivance in the sin might not be imputed to her, for sin she feared there had been. But le bon père only smiled; all her cunning devices to cheat him of his secret were vain. "Rest perfectly satisfied, my good demoiselle," he would reply, placidly smiling; "if there have been error, good little Madeleine is no party to it, no sharer in it; I exonerate you too from any participation." "Then there has been error?" would she exclaim, exulting in her own cleverness. "Ma fille, I said if," would be the quiet rejoinder as he rubbed his hands composedly; and the unsatisfied woman was fain to return home brooding over that cruel "if" which shut the gates to further inquiry or knowledge. Mdlle Lagune had a nephew, Louise's brother, but her junior by nine years. It never entered into mademoiselle's head, that her nephew, presumptive heir to her property, could fall in love with an unknown orphan; even the prospect of the fortune she would undoubtedly receive from the Bertrands could not reconcile her to the match; she had indeed arranged one, years before, with the parents of an only daughter, wealthy and retired from business, residing in the neighbourhood; all was settled but one thing, Alexis' consent. Louise, like a clever

general, whose whole thought was fixed upon her brother's marriage with Madeleine, never hinted such a possibility to either; in fact, she appeared rather to discountenance any intimacy between them, and looked grave when little Madeleine begged for Alexis to come and spend the day with them; and on the other hand, she was continually speaking to him of his aunt's choice, Mdlle Frogé. Of course, the thing exactly turned out as she ardently desired it should; he and Madeleine liked each other as children, and loved fervently and truly as a youth of twenty and a girl of fifteen will, whose affections are based upon esteem. This was a thunderbolt to Mdlle Lagune, who had deemed Mdlle Frogé a sufficient "electric conductor" against so fearful a visitation. What was to be done? She did not like offending the Bertrands, and, on the other hand, her word had long been pledged to the Frogés. It is rather unwise sometimes to treat our children as mere automatons in our hands; we suddenly, by some severe shock, are taught to know that they have vitality and wills of their own: these she discovered in Alexis. "He had never dreamed of any but Madeleine! Leave her! Oh, no! if her foster-parents refused him, well then he never would marry, he would go for a soldier." Sometimes the thing we threaten to do comes unexpectedly upon us, as if to try our resolution. Alexis was cast in the following drawing for the conscription, and found himself, before he had time even to collect his thoughts, an embryo man of war and glory. "Of course," he said composedly to Louise, "my aunt will buy a substitute;" but ma tante had not the slightest idea of such a thing; she saw her vantage ground too well. "The service would do him good; times were peaceable; and without offending any one, she might eventually please herself;" so she firmly refused her consent to his boyish engagement with Madeleine on the grounds that it would not be for their future happiness to affiance them before he had seen a little of the world; young men will change sometimes; and while she was deaf to all arguments and prayers on this subject, she ratified her promise to the Frogés, who were ignorant of the heart's choice of Alexis Vallette. Poor Alexis, and still sadder Madeleine, what could they do? only love truly, be true to themselves and wait patiently. But all these were very good arguments, very painful practice, especially for her; he would be going among new scenes and companions, which would amuse and interest him; perhaps he might forget her! But she must remain, and reckon his footsteps fleeing from her, which her sad heart would vainly endeavour to overtake. Then, too, the misery of walking alone, where we

have been cheered by a kindly, loving support! Poor Madeleine, she grew very pale, very melancholy, and even her kind parents of adoption, and Louise, for awhile failed in comforting her.

"O Madeleine!" exclaimed Alexis, about a week before he was to leave the village; "if I only had five hundred francs, I could release myself, and still be near you; but I have nothing, except what my aunt gives me, neither has Louise."

"Nor I, Alexis," said the weeping girl; " and ma bonne mère will not give me any to assist in an act of disobedience towards Mdlle Lagune; besides, she too wishes you to see the world. It is very strange they think it so necessary to drive you into a place they all agree in calling so bad, just to try you; to my thinking, it is always safer not to put our fingers too near the fire; though healed, they might be scarred for life."

"I

"Never mind, Madeleine dearest," he answered, endeavouring to soothe, even though suffering keenly himself. shall come back sooner than they expect; seven years, indeed! I will get the money somehow for a substitute, and return loving you doubly for the privation of your presence."

And thus comforted she tried to look forward with hope; but the chance of his obtaining so large a sum seemed almost an impossibility; still she was too young to give way to despair, and the succeeding days passed more hopefully than she had at one time deemed possible.

We have said but little of the foster-parents of Madeleine; but our readers must admit them to their imaginations as good, excellent, but every-day people; there would be little to tell very interesting of them, if we except their unceasing care and love for their charge; the whole business of their lives seemed to be how to secure her happiness and well-being, and up to the present moment she had not caused them one hour's uneasiness. The attachment between her and Alexis was looked upon with pleasure, and a hope that the firmness and faith of the young man would insure the ultimate consent of his aunt. He was ever welcomed at their house, and his approaching departure cast its gloom over their household, for poor Madeleine's blue eyes were overflowing with tears, and her once laughing tones turned to sighs. But time, heartless time, hurries us on to every goal of sorrow; the day came, and even the young soldier's voice trembled when he bade all farewell, and imprinted his last kisses à la Française on Madeleine's forehead and cheeks. Louise stood by to comfort; but she too was weeping. At last the final words had to be

spoken; and as he whispered them to the sobbing girl, he added, "Cheer up, my Madeleine, my little wife, I shall soon return; but do not speak this to any one; I have a scheme in view to enable me to do so; à revoir, ma bien aimée." And he was gone on his career; perhaps to forget her. Poor Madeleine!

Reviews.

THE TEMPORAL SOVEREIGNTY OF THE POPE.

The Power of the Pope in the Middle Ages. Translated from the French of the Abbé Gosselin by the Rev. M. Kelly, Professor of Belles Lettres at Maynooth; being the first volume of the Library of Translations from Select Foreign Literature. London, Dolman.

The Temporal Power of the Pope. Clifton Tracts, Nos. 17, 20, 28, 34. Burns and Lambert.

MR. DOLMAN has done wisely to commence his Library of Translations from Foreign Literature with the well-known work of the Abbé Gosselin. He could scarcely have made a better selection; for the temporal power of the sovereign Pontiff is not only in itself one of the most interesting phenomena which can engage the attention of a thoughtful student of history, but it is also pre-eminently a question of the day. It is but a few months ago that men of all nations were to be seen flocking together to the banks of the Tiber to assist a band of perjured rebels in their attempt to overthrow that sovereignty; and on the other hand the arms of Catholic Europe, and the prayers and generous charity of the whole of Christendom, were actively engaged in resisting the sacrilegious attempt, and in maintaining inviolate that most ancient and legitimate of monarchies. The temporal sovereignty of the Bishop of Rome, therefore, is no longer a question fit only for the laborious researches of the antiquarian, or the speculative inquiries of the philosopher; it has become a practical question, upon which it is necessary that statesmen should be informed, and upon which itinerant orators and ephemeral journalists do not hesitate to give an opinion. Under these circumstances, a really good translation, such as Mr. Kelly has here given us, of a work of acknowledged merit upon the subject in question, is a real boon to the Catholic public; and we trust they will shew their appreciation of it, not only by procuring the book, but also by making themselves really masters of its contents; for they may rest assured, that this is a subject of which we