campana" to signify church bell. How account for this fact, otherwise than by admitting that the bell in some way or other had its origin in Campania? Rev. Mr. Gatty, in rejecting the traditional theory, urges that St. Paulinus, when writing to Severus, gives a detailed account of his church at Nola, yet makes no mention of a bell or tower; nor has any other contemporary writer drawn our attention to it. This argument is not without weight, yet we must remember, that St. Paulinus penned his letter many years before his death, and might very well have erected both tower and bell during the interval. Moreover, we find Eugippius, the deacon, using the word "campana at the beginning of the sixth century, a fact which-if campana really signified bell at that time-puts Mr. Gatty's view out of court, since it was only in the seventh century that Pope Sabinus ascended the chair of Peter. But did campana signify the same object then as it does now ? or had it not a more general application, signifying any instrument used to call people together? Might not campana have been the name given to the trumpet or the tabula? This is the objection which weighs with Fr. Thurston when he declines to accept the traditional view as proved: "With us," he writes, " bell has a very definite signification. It distinctly excludes the idea of a metal drum or a sheet of iron, or anything which resembles a cymbal, but there is nothing in the nature of the case which requires us to assume the same in the early use of the words signum and campana. To arrive at a certain conclusion, it would be necessary to go through all the known early examples much more systematically than has yet been attempted."-(Month, June, 1907.)

By way of conclusion, we will quote Fr. Thurston in favour of the view to which his inclinations would lead him: "On the other hand, there is overwhelming evidence that amongst the primitive Celts, and particularly among the people of Ireland, each missionary had his hand bell. . . . When we remember the use made by St. Francis Xavier of his hand bell in the Far East, nearly a thousand years later, it is natural to conclude that the early Irish missionaries in Germany adopted the same means of gathering auditors around them, and that in those primitive ages, the clocca' was deemed almost the first essential of the preacher's outfit, and that some kind of bell seemed only next in importance to the altar and the font in every permanent church."

Such, in brief, is the early history of bells. With us they are familiar enough: our Catholic lives are full of the ringing of bells.

They herald our coming into the world, and they ring us out of it. They serve as timekeepers on which we ring the changes of the passing years. They remind us of the gladness of Christmas, and of the solemn joys of Easter. Three times a day, they recall the central fact of our Redemption. To our brethren in the world, they strike the gay note of the wedding-march; and to us in colleges they are often pleasant, but sometimes importune; to me the sound of the bell is the Editor's warning that I must be done.

TRIOLETS

TRUE happiness is won
By always doing good
And leaving ill undone.
True happiness is won
In all lands 'neath the sun
By those of kindly mood.
True happiness is won
By always doing good.

In giving others joy

Joy for ourselves we gain.
Wise measures we employ
In giving others joy.
All selfish pleasures cloy

And oftentimes bring pain.

In giving others joy

Joy for ourselves we gain.

MAGDALEN ROCK.

MARY

WHEN life's highway's a path of pain,
And dark and dreary is the sky,
When peace is gone and hope seems vain,
And cares and ills the spirit try;
When tears, hot and despairing, flow,
And hearts with sorrows deep are weighed,
Then it is well that all should go

To Mary for her potent aid.

For Mary, gentle, meek, and mild,
The maid from imperfection free,

Once nursed upon her breast the Child

Who made the heavens, and earth, and sea.

When joy and gladness far are flown,

And doubts and fears the brain perplex,
When souls rebel, and lips make moan,
When troubles press, and trifles vex,
In spite of cares, in spite of woes,
At noon of day, at noon of night,
At dawning fair or evening's close,
Prove Mary's love and Mary's might.
For Mary stood the Cross beside
In agony for long hours three,
When Christ's blood ran a crimson tide
For love of man on Calvary.

The proud and meek, the high and low,
The humblest and the haughtiest may
Through Mary's wondrous power secure,
Blessings and mercies day by day;
For 'mid the radiant angel bands,
White-robed and gracious and serene,

And 'mid the saints of many lands
Mary is crowned of Heaven the Queen.

Full well the Saviour's Mother loves

The souls for whom her Son's blood flowed. Full well the great God's Mother proves

The power on her by Him bestowed.

MAGDALEN ROCK.

O

TWO NOVELISTS AND A CRITIC

UR issue for last December contained the concluding chapters of Lady Gilbert's serial, "Norah of Waterford and during the same month there appeared in the columns of the Catholic Herald an interesting study of Lady Gilbert's novels from the pen of the Rev. Cyril Martindale, S.J. Since the earlier days when Charles Dickens paid her the signal compliment of accepting for his magazine everything she wrote in prose or verse, Lady Gilbert has been the recipient of almost innumerable tributes of praise from literary critics of diverse creeds and countries; and her latest critic continues the praise with a freshness which is his own gift. Father Martindale is better known as a scholar and writer in England than he is in Ireland. He became a Catholic while still young, shortly after leaving Harrow, where he had been a prominent figure on the intellectual side of the school; later on at Oxford University he had a career of exceptional distinction-a long list of his academic triumphs can be found in The Catholic Who's Who by anyone who wishes to seek them out. Besides various pamphlets and review articles, he has written: The Legend of St. Christopher, Theosophy, The New Testament, In God's Nursery, and Christ's Cadets, the "cadets" in the last-named being, not modern boys, but the three young Jesuit saints, SS. Stanislaus, Aloysius, and John Berchmans, of whom he gives character studies that show a faculty for presenting youthful sanctity in a very winning and attractive aspect. He is also editor of the "History of Religions" series of the English Catholic Truth Society.

As the title of his series of articles is "English Catholic Novelists," he commences with an apology" for including under my title all who write novels in English-and of these, as all know, some of the very best are Irish men and women." He continues: "Lady Gilbert is the sister of Lady Russell of Killowen, and of Miss Clara Mullholland, whose amazing output of novels is rivalled only by that of the authoress of whom I am speaking to-day. But in all the books of both these writers is to be observed that Irish charm which is so distinctive; that agility of thought, and rapid intuition, and quick change of sentiment; that sympathy with the moods of nature and consequent

storminess and sunniness of soul; and, with all this, that not infrequent tenacity of purpose, and above all that spirituality of ideal, which, nous autres, we envy."

A contrast is drawn between Lady Gilbert's stories and those of the writers he has already dealt with in the series :

"Now, except in quite a general way, it is difficult to appreciate' or 'judge' of Lady Gilbert's books. They have none of the rather salient qualities which the authors had of whom we have so far spoken. Father Garrold's work is, as I said, from many points of view, unique. Miss Parr had a personality, not for one moment to be lost sight of, for her personal experiences made warp and woof with her stories. Mr. Carmichael's book was individual to the verge of eccentricity (oh, a wholly amiable and attractive eccentricity!); Sir William Butler was a traveller and a soldier; Cardinal Newman was a maker of history, and, in short, Cardinal Newman.

Lady Gilbert's stories, no doubt, reflect a most gracious personality, and have in them, as I said, the whole general charm of Ireland. But she does not, so far as I know or can detect, incorporate in them personal experiences of any very unusual sort, nor do they possess anything unique in the way of matter or manner. And really this is rather a relief. We are just allowed to read a pleasant story, and to enjoy it, and to tell our friends that we're sure they'd like it. What's it got special about it?' say they. 'Oh! well,' we answer, 'it's a jolly nice story. Just you read it and you'll see.' A keen, frosty morning of vivid sky and sparkling earth and crystal air stands out brilliant in the dull days of winter; a flaming afternoon of July sunlight on the roses shines golden and glorious from the heart of our pale midsummer. But there are quiet days of restful light and shade, of welcoming warmth and fragrance, which modestly give us of their best, and, being over, lose themselves among the spaces of a happy past, indifferentiated, but dear."

Two of her novels are then given in outline: first, The Story of Ellen, upon which he remarks that "out of this Lady Gilbert has constructed a leisurely, human, honest and agreeable tale, and into it she has set a whole gallery full of tender, sympathetic, pictures of Irish family life; and to watch these in our days of problems and paradoxes and eccentric personalities makes for peace and pleasantness and fills us with quiet gratitude to the author."

Then he takes up the Wild Birds of Killeevy.