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in its favor. The arguments to prove the Scriptures inspired may be applied with almost equal force to the Koran. When will Protestant divines perceive the insufficiency of their arguments to establish Christianity upon a groundwork of physical or literary evidences? Butler and Paley with their host of imitators have been overthrown a thousand times, but they have the happy ignorance of not knowing when they are beaten. Mohammed went to work scientifically, with the aid of heretical works, to frame a religion which should supersede Judaism and Christianity. It is to be supposed that he labored for that end and with that view. Hence innumerable analogies, both designed and unconscious, present themselves between him and Moses, and even our Lord. His mind was filled with the visions of the prophets and the Psalmist, and he was familiar with both the genuine and the apocryphal gospels. What could be easier done than arrange his life and book in prophetic attitudes and tones? Like Moses, he wandered in the desert, and did not present himself as a prophet till his fortieth year. He declared himself to be of the same stock as Abraham. Moses received the tables of the law upon the Mount, Mohammed from the hands of an angel. He placed the Koran in an ark of wood. Like Moses, he claimed the power of conquering and colonizing. Prior

to entering upon his mission he was driven into exile; he led forth his people from the desert as their prophet and king; he appointed twelve legislators; in short, he modelled himself upon Moses as the archetype of the Messiah, upon Christ as the fulfilment of the Mosaic type, and finally he presented himself as the last and greatest of the prophets, improving upon our Saviour in the establishment of a temporal kingdom as well as a spiritual supremacy. If we view Mohammed from a Scriptural standpoint he manages to play

the part of every Scriptural worthy from Adam down; but who fails to see the evidence of laborious design, of studied imitation, aided by the force of circumstances, in this archdeceiver, who fills all the outlines of Christ's prediction regarding false Christs and false prophets, and is the very Antichrist of St. John, a man setting himself up as God? The writers of the middle ages unanimously agree that in Mohammed we have the Beast of the Apocalypse.

Thus we see how easily shaken is the cumbrous structure of natural proofs reared with infinite labor by. those who do not perceive at once that the Church of Jesus Christ must be regarded as an object of divine and supernatural faith. Of course we by no means wish to detract from the force of those arguments by which the theologian establishes the authenticity of the inspired writings, nor the proofs of the divine origin of Christianity from its sublime doctrines, the life of its Founder, the number of its martyrs, etc. These are cogent and convincing. But after all, and before all, the Church stands as a divine fact and illumination, shining luce suâ, and attesting its origin by supernatural proofs and attestations. Without the authority and infallible magistery of the Church, of what avail is historical criticism or hermeneutical knowledge, with Mohammedanism staring usunwinkingly in the face, and pointing to the very arguments which Protestantism uses in its own defence and for its own glory?

Our own reading and reflection have led us to the conclusion (which we give for what it is worth) that Mohammed, liar and cheat that he became, was originally a providential agent in the hands of God, but that the grace of recognizing the truth of the divine unity and the promise to Ishmael became distorted in his mind by the passion of ambition, and perhaps anger at the manner in which he was received. He who is true to

his word had declared that he would

make Ishmael a great people. Isaac had received the benediction in Jesus Christ. The bondsman was to be made free with his freedom. But man can frustrate the designs of the Almighty, in spiritual graces, by the freedom of his will. Arabia certainly received through Mohammed the temporal blessing, for no richer, wiser, nor more valiant race ever flourished as did they under the rule of the caliphs. The promise to Abraham was fulfilled. The children of Agar saw their standard victorious, their marts crowded with commerce, their civilization copied and envied by Europe, and their throne fixed in the halls of the Cæsars. Their history is an illustration of the divine dealings with man. But their hand was against every man, and they lived the terror of their neighbors for centuries. Professing to honor Christ, they in reality set up permanently the abomination of desolation even in the holy city. Onset after onset did they make upon the bulwarks of Christendom, and if God had not stretched forth his right arm, the Papal power, desolation would have swept over Europe and the Church. The Popes repeatedly stemmed the tide of barbarian invasion. The hammer of Charles Martel broke their hosts asunder upon the plains of Poictiers, and it was at the prayer of a Pope that their proudest navy was scattered at Lepanto, as by the breath of God.

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and its only other positive dogma is predestination or absolute fatalism. The morality which it inculcates is of a high order, being borrowed from Hebrew and Christian sources. The greatest stress is laid upon the necessity and efficacy of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, all of which are compulsory.

The fatalism rigidly advocated by the Koran has an unhappy effect upon man. He feels himself bound as by an iron network of circumstances, fate, and conditions which he can neither understand nor control. Islam means complete submission to God. Carlyle insists that this is the only true thing in all religions; but his shallow reasoning fails to touch the spring of the evils which result from fatalism. Possibly his Scotch education received the doctrine of Knox as the essence of Christianity. Absolute predestination deadens the heart, unfits it for virtue, and makes it either selfishly complacent or despairing. Our more critical understanding rejects the horrible incubus; but the Oriental mind found it congenial to its slow perceptions and its disinclination to think. Mohammed assured all the faithful of eventual future happiness, though the wicked should be first punished by periods of a thousand years. There appears to

be no principle of a spiritual life in his teachings. The Turks are as cruel, sensual, and dishonest to-day as they were before they embraced Islam. The Bedouin still robs and murders the travellers of the desert, and a Persian saying makes the bargains of commerce at Mecca synonymous with theft and deception.

It was not until the Caliphate was thoroughly established that attention was given to the arts and sciences. The quick and fertile genius of Arabia then put forth its powers and produced the most enduring monuments of Saracenic greatness. The exact sciences were cultivated with ardor; and even

theological speculations became rife. Schools of doctrine were formed in which professors taught philosophy and theology; and it was through them that Aristotle became known to Europe. Astrology was cultivated to an absurd extent, and the dreams of the philosopher's stone and the elixir of life originated in the laboratories of Eastern chemists. The earlier Caliphs were either illiterate or averse to learning. Omar burnt the Alexandrian library, saying that if the books contained anything more or less than the Koran, they were equally useless. The baths of the city were heated for six months with the fuel of priceless manuscripts and massive volumes. Scholars have never ceased to deplore the loss which learning sustained at that time, especially in the destruction of Scriptural manuscripts. It is supposed that Ptolemy's copy of the Sep tuagint version perished in the flames. We have said that Mohammedanism is on the wane. In India, the labors of the Catholic missionaries are abundantly rewarded. Persia is distracted with sects, and Arabia keeps it rather as a vague tradition than a vital creed. It finds in Turkey its only congenial home and its last

stronghold. The obstinacy of the Turk in all his habits and ideas is the only warrant of its continuance. The union of the royal and priestly character in the Sultan also furnishes a prime condition of its existence-this being Mohammed's own ideas.

But Turkey, of late years, has been opened out and liberalized by modern thought and civilization, and the restless nations around it have shaken its lethargy. The abandoned lives of its sultans have exposed them to the contempt and ridicule of their subjects, and made them the tools of designing ministers.

The long-continued reign of Islam threatens to close amidst the clouds and lightnings of war. Like the moving masses of sand in the deserts from which it sprang, it has long blinded the eyes of nations, shifted with the varying simooms of fierce passions and hot prejudices, but it will break before the life-giving air of rational liberty, enlightened public opinion, and, above all, of Christian influences. Huge, misshapen, and portentous, its lowering form recedes in the gloom, and its dark superstitions betake themselves to their native shades.

TWO VOCATIONS.*

WHEN, during the War of American Independence, the little Eliza Ann Bayley was the joy and beauty of her father's New York home, no wildest flight of fancy probably ever suggested to him, who was father and mother both to her, that his child would one day be at the head of a peaceful but powerful army, whose banner of charity should be known and loved from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and from the Great Lakes to the Gulf of Mexico. He might have dreamed it to be remotely possible that divisions could, some future day, occur in the new country struggling into life, and that the sons of those who, in his time, were fighting side by side might one day clash swords against each other; but he was not likely to so forecast events as to dream that in that future of his Protestant country the white cap of the Catholic Sisters of Charity would be known and welcomed and honored on battlefield and in hospital, and that she whom those sisters revered as their foundress and first mother would be his little girl.

Eliza Bayley was a member of the Protestant Episcopal Church, and she married Mr. William Seton, who was also of that denomination. She was earnestly devout, and was so devoted to the relief of the poor that she and one of her relations, who was much associated with her in such works, were called Protestant Sisters of Charity. Her biographer says, in regard to this portion of her life, "Hers was one of those favored souls that are borne up by their own natural impulses to the love and pursuit of what is right, and this disposition, aided by study and reflection,

*The Life of Mère Marie de la Providence, Foundress of the Helpers of the Holy Souls. By Lady Georgiana Fullerton. Burns & Oates, London, 1875. Life of Mrs. Eliza A. Seton, Foundress and first Superior of the Sisters or Daughters of Charity in the

United States of America. By Charles I. White, D.D. J. Murphy & Co., Baltimore, 1873.

gave to her sentiments and aspirations a tone of uncommon purity and virtue, which manifested itself in all her writings. Her mind was of a superior order, but it was not less prone to the indulgence of pious meditation than it was active and intelligent. Those hours which she could snatch from her domestic and social duties were frequently employed in communing with God, in the perusal of the Holy Scriptures, and in meditating upon the sublime truths of the Christian religion. When things had assumed the most unfavorable aspect, and one loss appeared only to be the harbinger of additional misfortunes, she knew how to possess her soul in patience and to trust in Him who directs all the events of life for the wisest ends."

Iu 1803 Mr. Seton, who was in very delicate health, left home for Italy, to try the effect of a sea-voyage. His wife and their eldest daughter Anna accompanied him, leaving two sons and two daughters at home. On the 18th of November they reached Leghorn, where they were obliged to go into quarantine, and there for a full month they lived in suffering and deprivation, brightened with earthly and heavenly love, whose record, from Mrs. Seton's own journal of the time, is very touching and beautiful to read.

But it is more, much more, than touching and beautiful when considered in the light of what was to follow.

On the 19th of December the poor invalid was set free from his trying captivity, though his wife's heart "beat almost to fainting lest he should die in the exertion;" comfort for a short time was granted him, but extreme suffering and weakness accompanied it. The record for December 26th is: "Was so impatient suade him to wet his lips, but conto be gone that I could scarcely per

tinued calling his Redeemer to pardon and release him. As he always would have his door shut, I had no interruption. Carlton kept Anna out of the way, and every promise in the Scripture and prayer I could remember I continually repeated to him, which seemed to be his only relief. When I stopped to give him any thing, 'Why do you do it? What do I want? I want to be in heaven; pray, pray for my soul.' He said he felt so comfortable an assurance that his Redeemer would receive him, that he saw his dear little Rebecca smiling before him, and told little Anna, 'Oh, if your father could take you with him!' And at midnight, when the cold sweats came on, he would reach out both his arms, and said, repeatedly, 'You promised me you would go; come, come, fly!' At four the hard struggle ceased; nature sank into a settled sob. 'My dear wife and little ones,' and 'My Christ Jesus, have mercy and receive me,' was all I could distinguish; and again repeated, 'My Christ Jesus,' until a quarter past seven, when the dear soul took its flight to the blessed exchange it so much longed for. I often asked him, when he could not speak, 'You feel, my love, that you are going to your Redeemer?' and he motioned Yes,' with a look of peace. At a quarter past seven on Tuesday morning, December 27th, his soul was released, and mine from a struggle next to death. And how will my dear sister understand, except you could conceive the scene of suffering my poor William passed through, that I took my little Anna in my arms and made her kneel again with me by the dear body and thank our Heavenly Father for relieving him from his misery, for the joyful assurance that, through our blessed Redeemer, he had entered into life eternal, and implored his protecting care and pity for us who have yet to finish our course?"

We read here of devoted love to the earthly spouse and of deep love

of God and trust in him. The soul of this earnest woman would seem to many persons to be very ripe in holiness, and yet, in little more than a year from that time, Eliza Seton had become a Catholic. Fresh from her husband's deathbed, and after watching beside another dying couch, that of her cherished sister-in-law Rebecca, she left deliberately the fold in which she had been reared, and where she had loved them, and taking a step which sundered her in her young widowhood from many friends, to whose love and sympathy she might otherwise have looked, she went straight onward to meet poverty and neglect on the one hand, but on the other that which was to her more than life or love of earth. Not without long and hard struggle did she attain to the rest which finally she

won.

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"I do not get on," she writes, 'cannot cast the balance for the peace of this poor soul, but it suffers plenty, and the body too. daily, with great confidence of being one day heard, the 119th Psalm, never weary of repeating it and reading à Kempis, who, by the way, was a Catholic writer, and, as our Protestant preface says, 'wonderfully versed in the knowledge of the Holy Scriptures;' and I read much, too, of St. Francis de Sales, so earnest for bringing all to the bosom of the Catholic Church, and I say to myself, Will I ever know better how to please God than they did?' and down Ì

kneel to pour my tears to them, and beg them to obtain faith for me. Then I see faith is a gift of God, to be diligently sought and earnestly desired, and groan to him for it in silence, since our Saviour says I cannot come to him unless the Father draw me. As it is, by and by, I trust this storm will cease, how painful and often agonizing He only knows who can and will still it in his own good time. . . . In a desperation of heart I went last Sunday to St. George's (Protestant Episco

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