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VOL. 4.-NO. 5.‘
A
-,‘ , THE DIFFUSION OE‘ CATIIOLIC KNOWLEDGE AND THE INSTRUCTION OF YDUTII, SIIALL BE.0UR OBJECT AINE OIVR AIM.‘
flIIL.lIhELPllIA.'SA'I‘UltEilY;[i’llltltUiAl:Y :3, 1349.
WHOLE No. iio'
‘THE CATHOLIC WEEIUJY INSTRUCTOR,’
Is printed and Published Weekly. .
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itten for the Catholic VVeekly Instructor.‘
THE ' VOLUNTEER.
ax iuiss A. 5:. s. i
C II A P T E R I.
“For thee, their smiles no more,
, Familiar faces wor ; ,
Voices once kind,had learned the stranger’: tone,
i’ ' , , Who raised thee up, and bound
.. ‘g . yr " - Thy saiehupiriri wound? , , .
ire,‘ train all guilt, tliestainless, He alone!"
2 Thmugli a nairow street, crowded with small
houses, in one of our most populous cities, a
letter carrier slowly wended his , way, along.
stopping occasionally to deliver 9. letter, but
most frequently passing by, with an air of dis-
gust; the filthy habitations around him. It was
late. and tired with his day's labor, much did
he wish, that all his wearisome epistles were
delivered. ‘ But he paused, and by the light Of
a lamp, found, he had one-still remaining, and
that, bore the simple.. unpfefendlng mm” M
“ Grey." .His rough, but honest.countenance,
was rendered almost handsome, by the glad
smile that brightened it., - The words, “it must
be from the widow‘: son" unconsciously escaped
his lips, and quickening his pace, he arrived at
- a small dwelling house at the end of the street.
We will linger a few moments. over the scene
his hasty knock disturbed; and, in a few words.
interest the hearts of our readers for the occu-
pants of this humble abode. . Mrs. Grey, and her
niece. Edith, were about retiring to rest. am?!’
the well fulfilled duties of alongsummer‘s day.
Before a crucifix, (the sole ornament of their
scantily furnished rooni,) they both knelt in
prayer. - The evening Litany had been recited.
and each was occupied with her private devo
tions. The widow's face is one. that Til“ 3"‘!
Care have deeply furrowed. Sobs break forth,
and disturb the stillness, of even, that ‘ho!-II‘ Of
,-aye,-,. . Poor sorrowing one, thy petitions are
ascending to the throne of Grace. both for lhe
absent, and the dead‘. ‘But. ’tis not for the
dead, that‘ those earnest prayers are imPl0"'"S
mercy-no, safe in .the bosom of his . Father,
does she trust her loved husband “P059” b,“"
s‘ for, the living, he who has Y9‘ ‘$7 5""“e'El'3l “'1"‘
all the ills of life: her only chlld. her xi most
idolized. son-where is he now? Into what
snares may not his steps have fallen. i
. Matilda Grey's lot I335
take the maternal heart, in such circumstances.
missed to their respective homes, and Mrs.
Grey was anxiously expecting a letter from her
son, announcing his return. Day by day gli-
ded along, and hope and fear alternately pre-
vailed in the mother's breast. She had one
consolation, in all her anxiety-her young niece
, Edith, companion in the hour of devotion, as
well as the toils of the day.
Her face is raised in the fervor of prayer.
and her hands clasped in an unconsciously
graceful attitude. .How touchingly beautiful is
. the face of youth-
“ There lie such depths of woe,
In a young, blighted spirit!"
and Edith Grey had very early experienced the
sorrows, which sooner, or later, we must all
endure in this world of care. From a high sta-
tion, that both birth and ailiuence had bestowed,
she was suddenly thrown, by one of those
strange vicissitudes of Fortune, into compara-
tive poverty. But tlieloss of wealth, was nothing
to her rlccply sensitive heart, when compared
to the agony, with which she had seen death
deprive, her ‘of a beloved father. And there
was another griel; hidden in the depths of hor
heart, known‘ only to Him. who turned not a
deaf ear to the voice of her supplication, for
strength, to suifer.and endure. Yes, she had
lost all. There was one, whom she had loved
with all the treasures of a giiilelrss heart, fondly
believing it was truly rcquilerl, and when the
" dark days" came, she looked up to him for
support and consolation-but. oh! bitter dis-
covery, he, her adianced husband, had loved
her for her ii-calm alone, and when that disap-
peared, his love, too, vanished, like a delusive
dream ‘ " ,
Flying from all the scenes of her former
happiness, now agonizing to her sight. Edith
left her native city, and tank refuge with the
sole relation remaining to her rm earth-her
fither‘s only sister, Matilda Grey. The
complisliments, that. in happier days. had been
the delight of a fond fiitlier, were now Edith's
chief support, and also procured for her aunt,
many comforts her slender income would have
otherwise denied her. And it was thus, in habits
ofindiislry, Edith‘s time glided almost impercep-
tibly alnng. Her wound.-d hcait found solace
and support, in the practices of her Holy Reli-
gion; earthly hopes had all been blighted, bi.t
she turned toga fountain. whose waters are
ever pure, and-drinking deeply, her soul was
satisfied. w ' '. “‘ ‘
But we have zered too long-the hasty
knock nfiour friend, the letter carrier, caused
both the lonely ones to start from their knees.
It was an unusual interruption at that hour.
and with nervous tiniidily, Edith Opened the
door: but the sight of old Joseph's familiar
liice, somewhat re-assured her; and when she
caught a glimpse of the letter in his hand. she
hardly heeded his rough congratulations, (he
had known and loved Arthur Grey, when ii
boy) but hastened to place in her aunt's hand.
what she was well aware would delight her-
av
E‘
indeed been asad one. relieving, most probably, the anxiety of long
H" husbandys death (and who can attempt ml months. Joseph was not forgotten though. and
portray. me agony of that. bereavement. 3"?
those, who have felt its pangs 1)’
dependent for support, upon an only’ 59"‘ ,He
was all that the widows heart could desire?
alicctionate. intelligent, and. above all.'U'“lY
‘ pious; bul,this,is a cold,,unkind, world. rm”
those, whom Poverty has burdened, to struggle
in, and Arthur Grey, seeing no prospect of em-
p]gyment'at home. when war was declared
aoainst Mexic0.lefi his native State to serve
is; a Volunteer. . His mother mcekly submitted
to me will of Divine Providence, and as meekly
endured all the ‘thousand fears. that rnustagh
has lelt her.‘
afier well rewarding him foi' his trouble, Edith
carefully secured the door. and Temlned "3 her
aunt's side. ‘,
‘ Those hands.
i could hardly hold the precious letter-they
V trembled with eagerness. Tears streamed down
those care-wom , cheeks. but Edith was not
alarmed-she guessed rightly, they were tears
l of jay. Arthur, her belovcrl son, would soon,
lperhaps in a few days. be with her once more!
lThe letter was written afew days before his
that'girlish face! ‘ “ Touchingly," I have said, ‘
lie. for it bears an expression, most sad to see upon
"alieady"enfeebled by ,5... an
‘take for‘
‘ the voyage, Mrs. Grey with joy,
ut the war was over now, the volunteers dis. , announced to Edith, that they might expect to‘theypa.x.nr1, and with an astonished look, Edit ‘
turned to lllrs. ‘ Grey. - Nearly fainting, her‘
see him, perhaps in a week. " My prayers have
been answered" she exclaimed “ and Arthur,
my own Arthur, will relum to me in safety-
Edith, my child let us thank the Giver of all
this happiness, before we retire to rest." And
Edith joined in that prayer, with a grateful
heart; hers was not a selfish disposition, and
she rejoiced in her Aunt's joy, though her
thoughts oden dwelt upon a loved one, now
in his silent grave, and another living, it is true,
but lost, doubly lost,‘to her forever; > - V ‘
CHAPTER II.‘
“ Thou weep‘st-I tremble-
speak’ answer‘. ‘
Cou the grave, shut o'er those bursts
Of bright, and timeless glee?" l ..
' V ‘The Crusader: Rztuni.
“Ah, never more, that dream of hope may be! '
The summer breeze among we buuglis shall wave,
The summer sun, beam bright, o'er land and lea,
ut thou, no spring, shall wake thee, from the
r I V 7 ‘
All-all is over! See with painful start, i ‘
She wakens from her trance, to fcsl the whole E"
. n.
A week had passed since Mrs. Grey, had
received her son's letter. and all was joy in her
humlije home. .,Shc had learned through the
papers. the precise day that the Regiment
of Volunteers, was ex ted to arrive in the
city, and Edith had been up long before her
usual hour, preparing every thing for her
Cousin‘s reception. Her heart was sad, and
her thoughts in spite of herself, gloomy-for
“ all things are dnrk to sorrow."
are there" she sighed “ for whom this morning
in" ‘ one of agony. instead nf joy! But ii
few of the brave band,‘ who lrft, here, only a
year and a half ago, with hearts full of hope,
and eager desires for glory, will ever return.
Some have fallen in the carnage of battle,
others by the ravages of disease, and affection
has not‘even, the sad consolation of werping
over their graves! But, let me not sigh liir
the brave who have fallen-rather, oh! rather,
for those-left behind I” and the gentle girl's
eyes filled with tears-experience had taught
her, the bitterness of.such sorrow. " Aunt"
sheicontinued, pursuing the same course of
thought aloud 5‘ you have indeed, cause to be
thankful, that Arthur was spared to you-he
has escaped many dangers” .But Mrs. Grey
could listen to nothing.‘ Terribly excited, she
in vain tried to remain quirily at home: .At
last starting up, she proposed to Edith, to walk
out, and station tliemselves, where they knew
the Regiment would pass. 71 cannot wait
quietly here,”'she exclaimed, and when Edith
would have urged the ii-itigue, heat, crowds to
be encountered, and various other annoyances,
she was prevented, by the almost wild eager-
ness expressed in her aunt's, face. . , ,
Very unpleasant to the timid Edith,‘ was the
openly expressed admiration she excited, as she
walked along. supporting the faltering steps of
her aged relation. A plain black dress, of the
“ How
3
9
:
'<
his hand, or how gladly to her aunt. Bii '
very lips were bloodless, and in a gasping
voice, she murmurmed, " where is he-where
is my Arthur! why is he not among them 3"‘
“ Come home, dear aunt, come hnme, there has
been same mistake; Arthur will join us. n "
doubt, or perhaps even meet us there,“ said‘
Edith trying to reassure her trembling relation, A
though, she could not banish her own fearful
prescntiments. . -‘ ' -
' Meeklygdid Mrs. Grey follow her niece, and
it was not till she gained the privacy of her‘
own home, that, giving’ way to her feelings, she
wept, long and bitterly. Edith endeavored to‘
console her, and did not raise her sweet voice
in vain ller aunt, half soothed, was listening
to her, as she spokevof her being only momen-
tarily disappointed; that Arthur, would soon’,
be there; when ii hasty knock" at the door,’
caused them both to start. It is opened, and I
inste.-id of the dark, clustering locks and fair‘,
open brow of her son, the widow sees, a coun-
tenance rendered pallid by the ravages of dis-
ease, and a figure bowed with care, raiher than‘)
. The ‘stranger stopped, and irresolutely'
gazed upon the two forms before him: liilith.
as i t.1scinated,retumevl that gaze: she rmnl nil '
that he had‘ to say, in his terror-stricken Ricc-
In a voice. rendered husky by emotion, he
spoke: “I address Mrs. Grey, do I not 1." The
widow. merely bowed assent to this question; ‘
a feaifulbppression, denied her uitcr:ince.-
“You had is son-Arthur Grey. in the "
Regiment," here he paused, as if it was utterly ‘
impossible for him to say more.’ ‘. '
A wild shriek from Mrs Grey, broke the 1'
fearful silence-W‘ I had ii son-oh! God, where’:
is he! Can you tell me!" 5‘ It has bccoinc my I‘
painful duty" helcommrnccd again “to inform ‘
you, that he is no more. and all the particulars
of his sudden death.‘ Not more than two hours,‘
after he had written, and dispatched ii letter to,
you, he was taken suddenly ' ‘ll. A disease, ,
that had already ravaged our Regiment, added
one more victim to the longlist of death-he '
expired, the second day after his seizure, in my
armsff Overcome by the violence of his cmo- :
lion." the stranger pnuscd,, and. covered , his I
face with his hands. Edith, ‘. whose Cheek:
were blanched, with ‘horror, by the sad recital, ,
gazed at her aunt, who looked, as though the r
words, “he is no mow." had turned ll('l' into;
stone But, when the voice, that had conveyed ,
such ii‘al‘flll intelligence.‘ was heard no nior
she waved her hand, rind in B calm tone, sai
“I would hear all-tell me all." . ,. , .
“Looking at lil
:4
no
(0
l
l
l
)
. . .. -... ,i
or with surprise, Charles Lee ,
again spoke, addressing himself to Mrs. Grey, :
“ I had always been his most intimate friend, .
sincc‘we both joined the Regiment togcthrr- ,
and to me he spoke of you. Madam, during his 1
last moments, begging me to break the sad in- ,
telligence to you, on my arrival in P-:. Ilc,.,
repeatedly said, death had. but one, pang for‘,
coarsest quality, could not conceal her graceful
and fairy-like lorm;‘ whilst the black veil half
shrouding her lhcr. rendered more beautiful
eyes,‘ striking enough to'rivet a stranger‘:
‘attention. - ‘ - "- ' ‘ . -'
huzza‘s filled the air, hiizza's of welcome and
applause; then the gay tones of martial music
came tiIe‘v0l.uN'l'El'..RS. They passed-Edith
gazed upon them; she had never seen hm-
cousin (he left before, she had taken up her
abode. in his Mother‘s house)
iRe,i;rime'nt‘s departure for home: and by calcu-
linting the length of time, it would, most probably,
could not recognise him. but she expected to
to see one of that band of wanderers wave
the faint glimpses of silken hair and deep violet were his last looks hem
ado ,
i
were heard, and slowly following two, by two,‘
him-the thought nf,your distress. He had ,
every consolation his Iloly Religion affords in 1
that SM‘ h0'"; 1. myself procured him the ser-.-,
vices of a Mexican Priest, and upon a crucifix ;
with all the serenity of ;
one. who had lived a holy life-his last W0l'dS+ ,
“Jesus, receive my. soul 1" whilst iin lneffable
smile of happiness played on his lips, and lin- ,
Eered there. even after the spirit had passed
forever from its mortal tenement!" Vvith the
most wonderful calmness, Mrs. Grey listened to
this affecting account; but the alarining rigidi-,
ty of her face relaxed, and with one long, azo- ,
nizing shriek. as if her heart had broken in the :
struggle, she lisll upon the door. unconscious of i
nught around her. Charles Lee, arr.-r can-yir.,-;
“ld 0‘ 00"’-‘E hrr '0 an inner apartment. and assisting min
as much as Possible, delicately withdrew.
lng, say.
he would send her a Physician; and poor