Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;-
Love and tears, for the Blue,
Tears and love, for the Gray.

COMPOSITION.

Give a short account of "Decoration Day." Tell what is usually said, and quote from the various articles on death, in this Reader, to help you. Describe some special grave of some brave man whose actions distinguished him in the battle where he was killed. Name some Catholic soldiers or officers thus distinguished.

THE HE Venerable De La Salle was nearing his final hour. Under his instructions, the holy viaticum was brought, the garden avenues through which the most Blessed Sacrament was to be carried having been decorated by his order.

Like a valiant soldier, the saintly Founder wished to die arms in hand. His faith gave him supernatural courage. What was the astonishment of the pastor, his fellow-priests, and many persons distinguished for their piety, when they beheld the dying man, not in his bed of suffering, but prostrate on the floor to receive his God! A short thanksgiving, made in the same posture, was inore than the patient could bear; he was again placed in his bed, where he continued his secret conversation with the Spouse of his heart. He had already received the bread of angels; he was soon to hear their

songs.

On Holy-Thursday night, after prayer, the most honored Superior, with the Brothers of the community and the members of the novitiate, assembled around the bed of the dying patriarch. "We are your children," sobbed the Superior; "we come to implore a father's blessing." "May God bless you all!" said the Venerable, in reply. Like Jacob of old, he beheld the Joseph of his heart at his feet. He had not lands to divide, nor wealth to distribute, but, like the divine Master he had so faithfully imitated, he gave his children the whole world as the field of their labors: they were to teach all nations that "sweet is the yoke and light the burden of those who truly serve God."

Towards midnight he entered into his death-agony. At two in the morning he rallied for a moment, and murmured: "Mary, Mother of grace, of sweetness and of clemency! Protect us against our enemies, and receive us at the hour of death!"

For many years these words had closed each day for the Venerable; they were among the last he uttered. A moment before his death he was asked if he willingly accepted all the sufferings he was then enduring. “Oh, yes," he replied, "in all things I adore the will of God in my regard." `

With this profession of faith, the last embers of life were faintly glimmering. Making an effort as if to rise and meet one whom he wished to embrace, JeanBaptiste de La Salle breathed his soul into the hands of the Creator. The world had lost one of its greatest benefactors, the Church one of her most faithful sons, and the Institute of the Christian Schools its Founder. Heaven had welcomed the valiant warrior, who had fought the good fight. The steward who had been at first faithful in few things, and was afterwards placed

over many, had entered into the joy of the Lord. It was Good-Friday morning.

COMPOSITION.

Write the second paragraph in your own words, changing all the verbs, adjectives and participles.

viaticum

thanksgiving

rallied
profession

glimmering

steward

FRI

MARK ANTONY'S ORATION.

RIENDS, Romans, countrymen! lend me your ears.
I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him.

The evil that men do, lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones.
So let it be with Cæsar!-Noble Brutus
Hath told you, Cæsar was ambitious,
If it was so, it was a grievous fault;
And grievously hath Cæsar answer'd it!
Here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest-
For Brutus is an honorable man!
So are they all! all honorable men
Come I to speak in Cæsar's funeral.

He was my friend, faithful and just to me—
But Brutus says he was ambitious,

And Brutus is an honorable man!

He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill;
Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious?

When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept:
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff!-

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;

And Brutus is an honorable man!

You all did see, that, on the Lupercal,

I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;

And sure he is an honorable man!

I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke;
But here I am to speak what I do know.

You all did love him once; not without cause:
What cause withholds you, then, to mourn for him?
O judgment! thou hast fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason! - Bear with me;
My heart is in the coffin there with Cæsar;
And I must pause till it come back to me!
But yesterday, the word of Cæsar might

Have stood against the world, - now lies he there,
And none so poor as do him reverence!

O masters! if I were disposed to stir
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong,
Who, you all know, are honorable men!

I will not do them wrong, I rather choose
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you,
Than I will wrong such honorable men!-
But here's a parchment with the seal of Cæsar -
I found it in his closet 'tis his will!

Let but the commons hear his testament.
Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,
And they will go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds,
And dip their napkins in his sacred blood;
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory;
And, dying, mention it within their wills,
Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy,

Unto their issue!

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.
You all do know this mantle! I remember
The first time ever Cæsar put it on:

'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent,
That day he overcame the Nervii!

Look! in this place ran Cassius' dagger through!
See what a rent the envious Casca made!
Through this, the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd!
And, as he pluck'd his cursed steel away,
Mark how the blood of Cæsar follow'd it!
As rushing out of doors, to be resolved
If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no;-
For Brutus, as you know, was Cæsar's angel!
Judge, O ye gods, how dearly Cæsar loved him!
This, this was the unkindest cut of all,

For when the noble Cæsar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitor's arms,
Quite vanquish'd him. Then burst his mighty heart,
And, in his mantle muffling up his face-
Even at the base of Pompey's statue,

Which all the while ran blood!— great Cæsar fell!
Oh, what a fall was there, my countrymen!
Then I, and you, and all of us, fell down;
Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us!
Oh, now you weep, and I perceive you feel
The dint of pity: these are gracious drops!
Kind souls! what! weep you
when you

but behold Our Cæsar's vesture wounded? look you here! Here is himself - marr'd, as you see, by traitors! — Good friends! sweet friends! let me not stir you up To such a sudden flood of mutiny!

They that have done this deed, are honorable!
What private griefs they have, alas, I know not,
That made them do it: they are wise and honorable,
And will, no doubt, with reason answer you.

I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts:
I am no orator, as Brutus is;

But, as you know me all, a plain, blunt man,