Return now to the entry and pass within those gilded doors. This is the chapel. The walls are frescoed, as you see, and in imitation of the walls, now defaced, of the original chapel at Loretto. There is a pretty marble altar and tabernacle where reposes the Holy of Holies; and above the altar is a grating filling up the entire width of the chapel, on which are attached a large number of silver and gilt hearts, little remembrances left by the departing seminarians at their beloved shrine of Jesus and Mary. Behind the grate you can discern the statue made many hundred years ago, and sent to this chapel as a gift from the Holy House at Loretto in 1855. I know that your American taste will not be gratified by the appearance of either the statue or its decorations; but--America is not all the world. Keep that in mind, and it may save you a good deal of interior discomfort, whether you journey in other lands, or never stir from home.
Now I leave you, for I know you are tired of sight-seeing and want a moment of' repose--and, may I not also add, a little time to pray here? The seminarians are coming in to make their daily visit, for it is a quarter to five o'clock. Oh! sweetest moments of the Issian's day! Here he comes and kneels at the feet of Jesus and Mary, and drinks in those silent lessons which reveal truths to the heart that no man can teach. Here the soul is ravished away for a while from earth and all its carking cares, anxieties, temptations, and afflictions, and reposes peacefully in the loving embrace of its God. "Here," indeed, "is the home of charity, whose door receiveth not enemies, but the victims of love. Hither you may bring your vows, your hearts, and your affections." Remain you, then, and pray awhile with them; for of a truth you are with the congregation of the just, and not far off from heaven.
[ORIGINAL.]
A MAY BREEZE.
As fragrant blooms by blushing orchard shed,
When spring's advancing season ripens fast,
Oh! such the blossoms which the heart has fed
With all the dewy sweetness of the past.
But like those winds whose stormy passage sweeps
The wailing trees, yet leaves fair fruit behind,
Life's changing scenes, which man still hourly weeps.
Pledge fruit, than blooms more constant and more kind.
From the Lamp.
UNCONVICTED; OR, OLD THORNELEY'S HEIRS.
CHAPTER II.
WHICH IS ELUCIDATORY AND RETROSPECTIVE.
Before resuming the thread of my narrative I must needs go back a little, and see in what relation the different people who are to play the principal parts in this true history stand to one another.