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were in reality as his wife had represented: but no sooner had Philoftea reached the little group assembled on her path, than the mystery was explained. The young sister of charity could not reconcile it to her conscience to see so large a portion of food devoured by one person, when so many others were perishing of want, and she had been in the habit of distributing to these starving objects a certain part of her charge, only reserving so much as she thought ought to satisfy the wants of a reasonable being.
Her father transported with fury at the sight of the deceit which had been practised on him, and giving way to the impulse of the moment, flung the hatchet he had been using in his occupation of felling timber in the forest, full at his offending child, and with only too true an aim, for it struck Philoftea with such force that it broke both her legs and stretched her dead upon the place. What was then the terror and grief of the unhappy father! He rushed to the spot where she lay, and attempted to raise her from the ground, but he found himself arrested by some invisible power; he could not approach the yet warm body of his innocent child: in vain he made the most frantic efforts,--in vain he entreated the objects of her charity, who stood around in dismay and horror at the scene, to raise and carry her to her home. They were as powerless as himself; none could approach her: some guardian spirit, invisible, but powerful, seemed to beat off all who attempted to approach the remains of the murdered maiden. Her mother, alarmed at their cries, came, to join her grief and agony to her husband's; but she could do no more; the spell was upon her as well as the rest. A Priest at last was sent for: he knelt and prayed without the circle imposed by the invisible guardian: he attempted to exor
cise what he deemed an evil spirit. It was all to no purpose; at length he bethought him to address the corpse and prayed it to make known its wishes respecting its disposal. He offered to have it taken to Trinova to be buried there, but without effect; another place was mentioned-no sign was made; at length he named the church of Kurte d'Ardjish; 'immediately the corpse raised its hand; all felt that the spell was removed. A rustic bier, constructed of the branches of trees, was prepared; the body placed upon it; a procession formed of all who had collected during the foregoing proceedings, and young girls followed, throwing flowers on the bier, and on the path before it; and thus they bore her over the wild hills that divided them from the church she had chosen as her last resting place. Her father followed, and after having seen the remains of his victim laid in the tomb, he entered the monastery, and soon ended a life, embittered by remorse, and shortened by the selfinflicted penance by which he sought to appease the terrors of his conscience.
There is no better criterion of the character of a people than that which we derive from their legends. When we made our note of this legend of S. Philoftea, we could not but smile at the deed which in their minds deserved canonization, the benevolence of which was evident, but its honesty, to say the least, questionable.
SHALL WE KNOW EACH OTHER HEREAFTER?
HAVE we no reason to believe that we shall know and recognize each other in the world of spirits? Are those relations which the SAVIOUR blessed and sanctified by
Himself taking them, and which He hath made the type and figure of His abiding union with His faithful ones, are these so entirely of the earth, earthy, that they leave no trace in the world beyond the grave? Is friendship, the blessed bond of loving hearts, so frail that no thread of its web can stretch to the home where perfect love reigneth? Are the flowers of the bridal wreath, (first sown in Eden,) so rudely nipped by the frost of death, that no perennial bloom remains in the purer atmosphere of heaven? Are the children of the Resurrection so like to the angels in neither marrying, nor being given in marriage, that no antitype to that sacred tie can be found where parting is no more? Must we thus understand our LORD's words, thus estimate their state, "who shall be accounted worthy to obtain that world, and the resurrection from the dead ?" Must we mock the mourner's misery by speaking of the "lost one" as our brother or our sister, when in our inmost hearts we believe that they are so no longer? Is it so, that when the colour fades from the cheek and the eyes glaze, and the pressure of the hand waxes faint, and ceases, whose latest pulse beats love and recognition, is it so that we have seen the last link broken of the loved relation of mother and son, husband, or wife? Oh this is surely not a Christian's faith, this were to rob him of some of the purest, holiest longings of his heart, to cause the mourner's tears to gush out afresh, to wring with new woe, to point again the dart of death! It was to his mother that the widow's son of Nain was given back, to his sisters that the brother of Bethany returned, and who deems that in that interval oblivion had set in ? who reckons that the river of death is the fabled Lethe of forgetfulness ?
We will then give our reasons for believing, that the blessed will meet and recognize each other hereafter.
And first, this belief is grounded in the universal feeling of mankind, universal instinct as we may term it. Why does the bird forget the fledged offspring, so lately its anxious care, or the beast the young one for which it has risked its life, but that the spirit of the beast goeth downward to the earth, whilst the spirit of man shall return unto God Who gave it; and so the woman forgetteth not her sucking child, because the heart-strings which bind them connect time and eternity. Now what is universal instinct? It is the voice of GOD speaking within men, the old voice of nature which spake clear and decisive before the fall, and which through man's depravity, though it has at times given uncertain sounds, never speaks falsely, when it does speak. It was heard and recognized in the feeling common alike to Barbarian and Greek, sage and savage, that a curse had fallen on our world, and a blight on our nature. It speaks when the "whole creation groaneth, and travaileth in pain together, until now." It witnessed to a fact in the expectation of some great One Who should come into the world, were He an Avater of Vishnu, or a hero-god of old poetic Greece; and so it is that universal instinct expects the re-union of friends whether in the Elysian fields where sorrow, and sorrow alone is forgotten; in the paradise of Mahomet where the soldiers of the crescent recount their toils to former commanders of the faithful; or where the once suffering Lazarus reclines on the bosom of his father Abraham. Now this testimony of universal instinct, withdrawing it from the superstitious and erroneous media through which men have regarded it, Revelation confirms; but before we consult the oracle, let us see if this notion of mutual recognition is not implied in the nature of the case.
Who is the subject of death and resurrection processes ?
The being man. Now in what does the identity of the son of the fall with the child of the Resurrection consist? In this, that in every essential of his being he shall be and continue the same man that he ever was; changes have passed over him in his progress from the womb to the grave, and changes shall pass over him in his progress from death to glory. How then shall he be proved to himself to be the same, save by the inward consciousness that he is so ? and how shall he be so inwardly conscious, save from his connecting together the links of the chain of past and present, so that he may say, "I did that," "I am doing this." But all our past acts take their form from their then associations. If he then is to con
nect childhood, youth and age, as a continuous vista down which he is to gaze; if the thoughts and deeds of the past are to be preserved on the tablets of memory, the persons to whom those thoughts were communicated, and with whom he acted and spake, must come distinctly out on the canvass; and if so, there must necessarily be mutual recognition.
We enter not on the question of finding not the friend we seek; there may be sound philosophic truth in the old heathen notion that the river of forgetfulness effaced solely the memory of evil, and that the blessed forget only the ills of the past. The identity of which we have spoken would be quite compatible with this; just as generous minds cannot retain even now the recollection of slights, so the perfect Christian mind may not be able to think of evil. Or their utter unloveliness who love not GOD, may then be so apparent, that we desire not to think of the lost; or the love of GOD, and of those beloved of Him may be so absorbing, that we cannot love those who love Him not. Or again, the powers of the Resurrection mind may be so expanded, that we may (which