A GUIDE, &c. LETTER I. MY DEAR FRIEND,-The hours which we spent together, conversing on religious subjects, I have often remembered with pleasure. They were seasons of refreshing to my heart, and, I would hope, not wholly unprofitable to yourself. To me it was truly gratifying to meet a Roman Catholic who could enter calmly and dispassionately into the various questions at issue between the Roman Hierarchy and the Churches of the Reformation—one who impartially weighed every argument, honestly admitted the force of an adverse conclusion, and, above all, bowed with reverence to the authority of Scripture. I regret that it is a rare thing to see controversy conducted with candour and moderation. On the polemical arena, even good men sometimes forget themselves, and manifest, by the acrimony of their tempers, that their passion for victory is greater than their love of truth. seem to struggle with an enemy rather than to expostulate with a friend— evincing a spirit which tends rather to wound the feelings, and engender animosity, than to enlighten the darkness of prejudice, or soothe the irritation of bigotry. They To us, dear friend, it is consolatory to reflect that we have, from time to time, travelled over all the debateable ground in this great controversy, never once falling out by the way. Whether in public discussions, or in private conference, I found your temper ever the same. Always patient and gentle, you never turned from the argument to attack the advocate, nor adduced the alleged crimes of Protestants as proofs of the errors of their religion. I freely grant that you are a candid inquirer after truth. But while I have been frequently pleased to see you fully admitting certain important principles at variance, as I think, with the tenets of your Church, there was yet manifest a grievous want of courage to follow them out to their legitimate consequences. Circumstanced as you are, however, I cannot severely blame, though I must greatly lament, your timidity and hesitation. I know too well, by experience, the nature of the difficulties with which you must contend-the influence of those attachments and the force of those ties by which you are bound to be at all surprised that the claims B 2 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. of truth should, for a time at least, yield to the demands of interest and the solicitations of affection; or to expect that the clamours of honour, falsely so called, should be immediately silenced by the gentle whispers of a conscience but partially awakened. A gracious Providence having cast my lot in a different and remote part of our native land, we are deprived of the privilege of speaking face to face on this most important subject. But the interest I feel in your everlasting welfare forbids me to let the matter drop, and therefore I shall communicate to you my thoughts in writing; and, as mere dry controversy is not always interesting, might it not be useful to trace the progress of truth in my own mind, to notice the difficulties that occurred in my religious inquiries, pointing out the various processes by which I was led to certain conclusions, and referring occasionally to the feelings that agitated my mind during my wearisome and doubtful voyage, tossed on the boisterous waves, till at length, through Divine mercy, I cast anchor "within the vail ?" Thus will I furnish a chart to guide you on a perilous ocean. I shall point out the sunken rocks, the powerful under-currents, the adverse winds and treacherous calms, to which you may be exposed ere you arrive at the haven of rest. In the course of these remarks, I trust I shall say nothing indicative of unkind feeling towards my Roman Catholic countrymen. I will endeavour to "speak the truth in love." And you can bear me witness that, as far as truth would permit, I have always defended them, and advocated their just claims to equal civil privileges with their Protestant fellow-subjects. Sympathising in their sufferings, and indignant at their wrongs, I have sometimes, perhaps, incurred suspicion by vindicating them from the aspersions of bigotry and the misrepresentations of ignorance. Proselytes are accused, and sometimes, no doubt justly, of assailing with undiscriminating and implacable hatred the communities which they have forsaken. But the man whose arguments are sound and whose motives are pure—who is fortified by truth and armed with a good conscience-can afford to do justice to the most ungenerous adversaries, and for denunciations to return only blessings. I have had, like others, my share of unjust reproach and obloquy; but, I thank Him whose spirit, I trust, I have in some measure imbibed, that I have not often been betrayed into bitterness of invective against those who impugned my motives and aspersed my character. Neither you, however, nor your neighbours, are amongst the number. You have known me too long and too well to doubt my integrity. I may have erred in judgment; but you will give me credit when I declare that I have never adopted the opinions of others, or suppressed my own, at the bidding of self-interest or the frown of authority. Bear with me, then, while I retrace my steps along that perplexed and gloomy path, on which for years I wandered and stumbled, until a light from Heaven shone upon my soul, and led me, like the star in the East, to Him who is "the way, the truth, and the life." EARLY PIETY.-FIRST COMMUNION. 3 LETTER II. MY DEAR FRIEND,-In writing to you, it is unnecessary to say anything as to the devotedness of my attachment to the Church of Rome. You are aware of my scrupulous attention to all her requirements, and that my zeal often surpassed the strict letter of her commands. I went to confession monthly, and in such cases invariably received absolution. Whenever I had occasion to call on a priest for a testimony to my character, the warmest expressions of esteem and friendship were elicited; and the latest, and one of the strongest, of these testimonials was obtained from the parish priest of T, a brother to one of the Bishops. It is not with a view to the gratification of vanity that I thus refer to my own character, which, so far from being deemed reprehensible in the sight of man, excited among my acquaintance universal regard. According to my knowledge, indeed, none could be more sincerely religious, or more scrupulously conscientious. At the age of twelve years I received my first communion, having prepared for this important event by repeated confessions. It was a very solemn service. Three or four hundred children assembled in the parish chapel on the appointed day. The females were all dressed in white, and for the most part wore veils of the same colour; while the boys presented an appearance as neat as possible. Many a lad strutted in shoes and white stockings that day for the first time. But in the midst of the anxiety for external ornament, the state of the conscience was not forgotten. If an idle word had been uttered during the previous afternoon, or a naughty action inadvertently committed, we were ordered to step in to the vestry, and tell the priest before mass, to avoid a sacrilegious communion. I remember that, just as the mass was about to commence, I ascended the altar, and, with trembling anxiety, whispered the priest that I had thoughtlessly said "faith" since I received absolution: his gracious nod of remission relieved my conscience. We were arranged in the following order:-The girls knelt in rows on the right side of the altar, and the boys on the left. Each communicant held in the right hand a large lighted candle, ornamented with artificial flowers. The chandelier was also on this occasion brilliantly lighted, and the effect was very imposing. Father S., P.P., said mass, and, after the consecration, proceeded to distribute the wafer. I was then so ignorant that I thought the figure of a lamb, visible on the transparent host, elevated by the priest for our adoration, was impressed by miraculous power; and I dare say there were some present who fancied that the said lamb was really living. As each row received, with palpitating hearts, what they regarded as the person of Christ, the candles were extinguished, and taken into the vestry for the use of the chapel. When we had received, the priest delivered an exhortation suited to the occasion; and we departed, deeming ourselves the most innocent and the happiest creatures in the world. The rite of confirmation, which occurred soon after, was administered with, if possible, still greater solemnity. About five hundred children were arranged in the chapel-yard to receive the Bishop. That very ami 4 CONFIRMATION.-CONFESSION. THE CURATE. able and unassuming gentleman kept us waiting long beyond the hour appointed. At length his arrival was announced; and, at a signal from the priest, we all fell prostrate to do him homage, exclaiming, with one voice-"Your blessing, my Lord! your blessing, my Lord!" The Bishop delivered a short address, and then proceeded to communicate to each of us what our Catechism called “The Seven Gifts of the Holy Ghost." These are as follow-"Wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety, and the fear of the Lord." Our foreheads were rubbed with a bit of wool dipped in chrism, which was composed of holy oil and the ashes of consecrated palm; after which, the Bishop gave us a gentle slap on the right cheek, to enable us to profess Christ openly." Thus endued, with "power from on high," as we then imagined, we went forth, fearless of hell; and, in the buoyant consciousness of supernatural energy, rather ambitious of some skirmishing with Satan himself in his proper person. In early youth, my experience of the restraining power of confession was similar to that of Marmontel. It engendered a sort of morbid conscientiousness, which, while it damped the ardour of youth, and checked the innocent play of the feelings, rendered me excessively scrupulous about things indifferent, and fastidiously observant of trifles. Thus, taking a drink of milk on the morning of Ash Wednesday once threw me into the utmost distress of mind; and this inadvertence, for it was nothing more, formed the burden of my next confession. Indeed, such an occurrence is an important event in the diary of a boy, whose confessions are made up of idle words or ceremonial omissions. I was once, since my conversion, travelling with a Roman Catholic friend; and, calling to see a Protestant clergyman on the way, we took some bread and meat for a lunch. My friend suddenly recollected that it was Friday; and the mingled expression of alarm, remorse, and shame, painted on his countenance, would have furnished an admirable subject for the pencil of Hogarth. He deemed himself more defiled by this single mistake than if he had broken half the commands of the decalogue. An oversight of a similar nature, committed by myself, was the first thing that set my mind a little afloat from the moorings of the confessional. The Rev. Mr. H— a priest "just let loose" from Maynooth, was, of course, very zealous. But he was one of those whose zeal lacked discretion. His Sunday evenings were spent, not explaining the Word of God to the ignorant, but riding from one side of the parish to the other, in order to scatter with his whip the groups of young people that sauntered for pleasure along the road. His approach was the signal for retreat, and it was amusing to see the routed flock flying in all directions to escape the shepherd's vengeance. This was acting fully up to the letter of the present Pope's exhortation to his Bishops, &c., "to drive the flock." It was driving them, indeed; but, alas! not into "wholesome pastures." They took shelter behind the hedges and in the groves, or they concealed themselves in the cabins by the road-side-scenes less favourable to virtue than those from which they had been dispersed. The priest seeks to govern by terror-an engine which, while it is present to the mind, may partially restrain the ebullitions of passion; but it is wholly inefficient as an instrument of moral reformation, GENERAL CONFESSION.-ANECDOTE.. -CLERICAL CAPRICE. 5 Father H- commenced his labours in the confessional by calling on all the penitents to make a general confession—that is, to repeat all past confessions from the beginning of the penitential course to the present time. Whether the object of this requirement was to free the penitents from the consequences of bad confessions, abortive absolutions, and unworthy communions, or to enlarge the casuistical experience of the priest, or to gratify the prurient curiosity natural to young men on leaving such a college as Maynooth, or to acquire that sway over the mind which a knowledge of the heart, and the secret history of individuals, is calculated to impart, I will leave you to judge. Perhaps, in most cases, all these motives conspire to recommend this course of proceeding. He con However that may be, I was among the number of those who wished to make a general confession to so holy a man. He occupied a room in the house of the parish priest. I found him, as usual, seated near the fire, with a small table before him, on which was some silver with a considerable quantity of pence. There was a good deal of the dandy in his appearance, and he evidently paid much attention to his toilet. templated, with apparent satisfaction, the whiteness of his hand, and the ring with which it was adorned. An anecdote, current through the parish, will throw some light on his character :—His servant brought his boots one day, polished as brightly as "Warren's jet" could make them; but he haughtily ordered them to be done over again, as, he said, they were not fit to be seen. The servant, despairing of making them better, showed them to the parish priest, who told him to lay them by for a few minutes, and then take them in, pretending they had been polished a second time. The joke pleased Tom exceedingly. "Well, your reverence," said he, "I hope they'll do now?" "Oh, admirably!" said the priest; "now, indeed, they are decent, but before they were intolerable." Perhaps the good old father took the hint of this trick from that which Pope played on a great Lord who ventured to criticise one of his poems. But we must return to the confessional. According to custom, I bowed down at Mr. H- -'s knee. But he roughly ordered me to kneel at a chair beside him, where I related the long catalogue of my sins, for the most part venial, indeed ; but occasionally a mortal sin stood prominently out, like the large stone called the decade on the beads. When I returned again I advanced to the chair above-mentioned; but, in a very angry tone, he commanded me to fall down at his knee. This manifestation of bad temper and caprice surprised me. "You bid me kneel here, Sir," I ventured to remark. On this occasion I was enjoined to abstain from breakfast every morning till I came again. It was Christmas week; but I did not think the prohibition extended to the morning of that day of universal feasting. I was mistaken. When I mentioned the fact to my ghostly father, in answer to the question, Whether I had performed all the penance, he started from his seat in a fit of indignation, and declared he would have nothing more to do with a person who had dared to trifle with his commands. I apologised, promised, implored—but in vain. The haughty ecclesiastic ruthlessly spurned me from his feet. He mounted his horse |