paper and typography are even sumptuous. But this is not all. There are more important additions than the illustrations in gold and colours. The Month, in commending warmly "this very gracefully written little book," said it would be "useful for reading to children, the teacher being able to supply many details which the brevity of the work forced Miss Mulholland to omit." But, fortunately, Miss Mulholland has herself undertaken to supply these omissions in the present edition which may indeed be regarded as a new work, though it has been thought well to make use of the old name already in so short a time known so familiarly and affectionately. As we are entering on the month which leaves us adoring the Child of Bethlehem, we deem it our duty to do our part in placing in the hands of as many children as possible the book which we consider the best fitted to make them know and love their Infant Saviour. No better way of doing this occurs to us at present than to quote here the excellent notice which appeared quite recently in the Munster News :-

"Miss Mulholland in her tales for youthful readers has been no less successful than in her works for maturer minds. This success, we presume, has induced her to contribute the valuable book hefore us to a department of Catholic literature very scantily supplied-the child's library. We venture to predict that the success of this little work will be equal to that of the most popular of her already published books. It will, we hope, become a text-book for the education of Catholic children; nowhere will they learn so easily and so agreeably the story which it most imports them to know. By the labour which she has bestowed on it, Miss Mulholland has deserved well of religion, and has added considerably to her literary reputation. It is a difficult thing to write a book which will fix the attention of children, and the diffi culty increases when the book must treat a religious subject. Miss Mulholland has long since shown that she was equal to the former task, and we think that she has now successfully accomplished the latter. The incidents of our Lord's life are told in the simple language which has made us familiar even with the adventures of "Puck and Blossom." The interest of the young reader in the well known facts of the Scripture history is excited by the same lively and graceful story-telling style which interests him in the fortunes of the author's good and evil fairies, and the narrative is invested with the charm which a vivid painting of local seenery throws round a tale of romance. Told in her words, and seen by the light which she has cast about them, the details of the Saviour's life will have a reality for the young mind which they had not in the language in which it has been the custom to relate them. She has simplified the task of religious education for Catholic parents. To them, as well as to all who are charged wth the instruction of youth, we heartily recommend her book. The fact that the price is fixed at sixpence is sufficient indication that it has been the author's aim to make the benefit she confers upon Catholic children as wide-spread as possible."

It is hardly necessary-but things which are hardly necessary are often very useful-and therefore we may add that the issue of this édition de luxe by no means abolishes the cheap issue which might be appropriately styled in the same language an édition de propagande.

VI. The New Testament. Large Quarto Edition, Illustrated with Full-page Engravings. (Dublin: M'Glashan & Gill.)

WE are used to the words "A Family Bible;" the work before us may be called "A Family Testament." This splendid presentation edition of the New Testament is in many respects more suitable for

this season of gifts than a copy of the entire Holy Scriptures. In place of the microscopic type with which many editions of the New Testament are printed, we have in this ample quarto one of the finest productions of the Dublin Press, of which all the parts, paper, printing, binding, and illustrating, are excellent, each in its kind, Ireland claiming the credit of all except the beautiful designs for the pictures which we believe are specimens of German art. This is a proper occasion for the remark which has often been made, and must be often made again, that we here in Ireland do not do half enough to encourage Irish talent and industry, and that we are quite too ready to bestow our little patronage on those who would never think of returning the compliment. This is particularly the case with regard to Catholic literature. Our good people and, above all, our good priests might make it one of their New Year resolutions to do something towards setting this matter right, through themselves or others whom they may influence.

WINGED WORDS.

1. Being patient is the hardest work that any of us has to do through life. Waiting is far more difficult than doing. But it is one of God's lessons all must learn, one way or another.-Mrs. Gaskell.

2. "I'd rather," said John Barton, "see her earning her bread by the sweat of her brow, as the Bible tells her she should do, ay, though she never got butter to her bread, than be like a do-nothing lady, worrying shopmen all morning and screeching at her pianny all afternoon, and going to bed without having done a good turn to any one of God's creatures but herself."-The Same.

3. Many a hasty word comes sorely back on the heart when one thinks one shall never see the person whom one has grieved again.— The Same.

4. The fangs of a bear and the tusks of a wild boar do not bite worse and make deeper gashes than a goose quill sometimes. Howel.

5. Thought means life, since those who do not think do not live in any high or real sense.-Alcott.

6. It is best not to dispute where there is no possibility of convincing. Whitefield.

7. The voice of conscience is so delicate that it is easy to stifle it, but it is also so clear that it is impossible to mistake it.-Madam de Stael.

8. Kindness is the turf of the spiritual world whereon the sheep of Christ feed quietly beneath the Shepherd's eye.-F. W. Faber.

9. Many great saints could have been made out of the graces which have made us only what we are.-The Same.

10. All grace leaves us worse if not better, harder if not softer.The Same.

11. Religion has no ally one-half so valuable as common sense.F. W. Faber.

12. Pride is a statue whose pedestal is ignorance-take away the pedestal and down falls the statue.-Father Burke.

13. No man ever did a designed injury to another without doing a greater to himself.

14. There are women who live all their lives long in the cold white moonlight of other people's reflected joy. It is not a bad kind of light to live in after all. It may leave some dark, ghostly corners in the heart unwarmed; but, like the other moonlight, it lets a great deal be seen overhead that sunshine hides.-A. Keary's "Oldbury."

15. Life can never be completely happy, for it is not heaven, nor completely wretched, for it is the road to heaven. - Mdme. Craven.

16. Heaven knows we need not be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our heard hearts.— Dickens.

17. Even if life were long, time should be husbanded carefully in order to suffice for necessary things: but what folly to apply one's self to superfluous things, now that time is so scanty! [Some will prefer Cicero's own words: "Etiamsi longa homini vita suppeteret, tempus parce dispensandum esset ut sufficeret necessariis; nunc autem quæ dementia est supervacanea discere in tanta egestate temporis!"]

18. How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds makes ill deeds done.-Shakspeare.

19. There is no such word as "too late" in the wide world—nay, not in the universe. What! shall we whose atom of time is but a fragment out of an ever-present eternity-shali we, so long as we live, or even at our life's ending, dare to cry out to the Eternal One: "It is too late!"-Dinah Muloch Craik.

20. In the morning of life, work; in the noon, give counsel; in the evening, pray.

21. Saintly souls are exceptional and beautiful appearances, colouring and brightening, like Alpine roses, the upper summits of human life.-Anon.

22. [Speaking of trials that are worst in apprehension]-The Juggernaut on his car towered there, a grim load. Seeing him draw nigh, burying his broad wheels in the oppressed soil, I, the prostrate votary, felt beforehand the annihilating craunch. Strange to saystrange, yet true, and owning many parallels in life's experience-that anticipatory craunch proved all-yes, nearly all the torture. The great Juggernaut in his great chariot drew on, lofty, loud, and sullen. He passed quietly like a shadow sweeping the sky at noon. Nothing but a chilling dimness was seen or felt. I looked up. Chariot and demon charioteer were gone by: the votary still survived.—Currer Bell.

23. Happiness is a glory shining far down upon us from Heaven. She is a divine dew which the soul, on certain of its summer mornings, feels dropping upon it from the amaranth bloom and golden fruitage of Paradise.-The Same.

TH

NOTES IN THE BIG HOUSE.

HE following are two of many letters which lie before us, received from brave knights, from different quarters of the world. We purpose publishing these letters from time to time, and are a little puzzied to know which, among so many, to choose to begin with. "Bombay, September 23rd. "MY DEAR BOYS,-I send you ten rupees, which is £1. I am saving up all my annas for you, and my toys, too. I must stop now, as there is a snake in the garden and I must go and see it killed. I send my love to you all. Yours faithfully,

"J. R. O'L." You see our little Indian friend went straight to the point and addressed the little patients themselves. It was a very good plan, indeed, and greatly delighted many children, not only the sick, but those others who serve under the same banner as our knight of Bombay, the letter having been read by the rev. chaplain at the last meeting of the Brigade. So, also, was the following, addressed to the secretary, and dated from a place much nearer home :

"Belfast.

"DEAR SIR,-My father was removed to Belfast last week, and my address is as above. I was very glad to see the great sum of money which was collected this year. If you please, send me a collecting-book and a few tickets, and whatever other little books you have for the last month I also would be glad if you would give me some instructions for the following year. I hope the little patients are getting on well. I should be delighted to get spending one hour with them, but it is impossible. I remain yours truly,

P.S.-Please answer soon.

"F. J. O'D."

Many other letters, quite as nice as these, were also read at the last meeting of the B. B. B., and we shall by-and-by give our little absent friends a peep at as many as we can. That was a very pleasant meeting, and we only wish our kind little letter-writers could have heard the charming stories told to the knights by the kind and clever chaplain of the corps. There was a great mustering of the Brigade, and all arrived, badge on shoulder, money-box in hand, looking ready to do or die for the cause, although, it must be said, some of them were so small that they had to be lifted into their places on the benches. But they are not a bit the worse, as members, for being as small and as tiny as they can be. It is well known that some of the bravest soldiers have been very little men; and so some of our most hard-working knights are among the smallest in the band.

Of course the wards were visited after the meeting was over, and the little sick ones, tired of their aching bones, and weary with lying in bed, were gladdened by the merry visitors who poured in upon them. How nice it was to see rosy faces bending over pale ones, the smile passing on from the one and settling on the other, to hear the sudden peals of laughter, and to notice the respectful delight with which the small sick creature, nothing envious, would touch and pat the soft coat or pretty dress of the sleek and well-cared-for little stranger, who had come in all the sunshine of his or her prosperity to make a pleasant picture for poor dulled eyes, and to give a taste of human sympathy to sad little half-starved hearts.

NELL:

A STORY OF KILLOWEN POINT.

BY ROSA MULHOLLAND,

AUTHOR OF "THE WICKED WOODS OF TOBEREEVIL," &c.

CHAPTER IV.

IS IT JACK OR NOT?

NELL offered a chair to the lady, and asked her to be seated. The lady sat down, and, after a glance round the kitchen, fixed her gaze upon Nell, who was standing modestly before her, wondering what

she could want.

"You are the coastguard's daughter?"

"Yes."

"Your name is Nell ?"

"Yes."

Nell, while waiting for another question, glanced at the quivering feathers on the lady's bonnet and the tapping toe of her elegant boot. The lady was evidently agitated in her mind, but though her nervousness might have been catching to an equal, yet Nell, feeling herself completely out of the sphere of her sympathies, only appreciated that she was distressed, and was sorry for her.

"So you are the young woman who has bewitched my son and brought sorrow into my home?" continued the lady, with a gasp that was almost a sob.

"Oh, no! No, indeed!" cried Nell, indignantly, scarcely crediting her ears. "Madam, I do not know what you mean."

Mrs. Flamborough was a lady, if a nervous one, and, making a great effort to control herself, she remained silent for some moments, and then asked for a glass of water. Nell waited on her readily, pitying the poor thing, whom she suspected to be astray in her mind. When the stranger spoke again, it was quite in a different strain. "My good girl," she said, "sit down and talk to me. You are a pretty girl and modest-looking, and I can well imagine that you might be found lovable by anyone."

"Thank you, madam; you are very good," said Nell.

"But still, you must own, you will perhaps feel, yourself, that you are not quite fitted for the position of a gentleman's wife."

“Madam, I am engaged to a sailor, and I have not the least wish to know anything of gentlemen."

"Engaged to a sailor-then he has not undeceived you ?"

Nell, drawn up to her full height, felt that she had said enough, and waited to hear more.

"As he has not done it, I must do it myself. The person you imagine to be your sailor lover is Mr. Edward Flamborough, my son."