he order, I slay my brother, my motive being
obedience, and the promotion of the interests of the Church, the
greater is my reward for overcoming the weakness of the flesh, and
forcing it, albeit, reluctant, to obey. Emptied of myself I am filled
with divine grace. The creature is enabled to be made the sword of the
creator. A higher reason, incomprehensible because so high, is
substituted for the lower, and the dogma of St. Augustine becomes an
animating principle and a living power. Try, prove, search, examine
thyself, my son, and thou wilt find these doubts do arise from the
rebellious reason ever ready to set itself up as God, and to demand
the worship which belongs to Him. Each one would be a law unto
himself, and hence as many laws as law-givers. Let the reason of man
prevail, (an impious thought, and an impossible fact,) and the
seamless coat of Christ is rent, a deluge of all manner of heresies
and abominations follows, and Zion in sackcloth mourns her blighted
hopes. Behold the condition of the world, how it confirms my words!"

"Father, feeling as well as the unsanctified reason, does at times
rebel."

"Alas, they are conspirators together. How willingly the one echoes
the fancies of the other, while they deal out mutual encouragement!
But it needs not to say, to thee at least, that feeling can be no
criterion of truth; or, rather, that the disturbance of the faculties,
baptized with the name of feeling, and which springs from a corrupt
nature, must be hostile thereto. There is in high contemplations on
man's duties, but one infallible test of truth, viz: the Holy
Scriptures, as interpreted by the faithful witness, the Church. To
them, my son, the one as the record, and the other as the inspired
interpreter, is it our duty, and should be the business of our lives,
to bring into subjection the rebellious passions, the fainting
weaknesses and erring reason. Inspired by this grand truth, behold
thousands of devoted men and women, weak with human infirmity, but
sustained by courage from on high, renouncing the dulcet, but
transitory enjoyments of this life, to encounter, for the salvation of
their souls, and of others, privation and sorrow, and painful death.
_Quoe terra non plena nostri laboris?_ Yet, O how contemptible is
the suffering, when compared with the joy of the hope which is set
before us--of the starry crown that awaits the willing martyr! Feed
thy soul, my son, on these divine contemplations, until