Memoir. (continued 4)

To return to the Savannah mission. I had a good opportunity to judge of its permanent fruits when, two years afterward, I returned there, and went through the same quarters of the town where we had gone to drum up the people to the mission, in making a collection for the new congregation of St. Paul. Many of the very poorest dwellings I found neat and orderly; the pious pictures blessed during the mission hanging upon the walls; the children clean and tidy; sometimes an old man sitting at the door, reading the mission-book; the wives and mothers evidently cheerful and contented, the best sign that their husbands were sober and kind; the expressions of grateful remembrance of the mission warm and frequent; the signs of moral improvement everywhere, and the church crowded on Sunday.

It is not to be supposed that the body of the Catholic congregation of Savannah were like this lowest class I have described. I have dwelt more minutely on their condition, and the good done among them, mainly because the small comparative size of the place, and the thorough visitation which was made, brought us into a more close contact with their miseries, and enabled us to see more clearly what can be done to relieve them, than is usually the case. I have wished to show what the hardest and most repulsive part of the work of the missionary is, and to give a true picture of the nature and efficacy of the means used to raise up and reform and save the most demoralised class of the Catholic population throughout the country, and especially in the large towns, where this class is most numerous. I wish, also, before resuming the particular narrative of F. Baker's life, to show what was the work for which he left the ease and elegance and attractive charm of his earlier position as an Episcopalian clergyman, fulfilling the light duty of reading prayers and preaching quiet, well-written, polished discourses for the élite of Baltimore society.

The mass of the people who were brought to the mission in Savannah by the personal visits of the fathers had never been seen in the church previously. They were the débris that the tide of emigration had deposited there, and many of them only chance-residents of the town.

The ordinary church-going congregation contained, as usual, its very large proportion of Easter communicants, with a smaller but still numerous class of devout and fervent Catholics who approached the sacraments frequently. The majority of them belonged to the humbler walks of life, although there were a considerable number whose position in worldly society was more elevated.

F. Baker arrived in Savannah, when the mission was about half over, and took his share in the labor of preaching and hearing confessions. At the close of it, after a few days' rest, three of the missionaries, of whom he was one, commenced a series of missions in one part of the diocese, and the two others began another which embraced the smaller parishes. The smaller band went to Macon, Columbus, and Atlanta, rejoining their companions subsequently at Charleston. As F. Baker went in another direction, I shall confine myself to the narrative of the missions in which he was engaged, and pass over the others, merely pausing for a moment to notice a letter written by a Protestant gentleman in Macon, to the United States Catholic Miscellany, of Charleston, as an evidence of the impression often made by missions upon the minds of candid and intelligent Protestants. The letter is as follow's:—

"In company with many of our most distinguished citizens, I have had the pleasure of hearing most of the sermons delivered, and witnessing the accompanying exercises connected with their mission, and but express the united and universal sentiment entertained, when I say that they were exceedingly interesting and instructive, and have served to dissipate many of the vulgar prejudices that hung like a mist upon the public mind, and, like a cold-damp, mildewed reason and honest judgment. Sufficient testimony of this result may be found in the fact that a number of Protestant gentlemen called upon Mr. Walworth yesterday, and urgently requested him to deliver one more sermon before his departure, which he consented to do this evening. I would send you a copy of the correspondence, but it would be too voluminous for the brevity of this letter; suffice it to say it was complimentary, no less in the act itself than in the manner in which the request was conveyed.

"I must take this occasion of expressing my gratification at the result adverted to, for though I am not a member, nor ever have been, of the Catholic Church, its piety and religious principles—the purity, integrity, ability, learning, and eloquence of its teachers and preachers—the bright links of patience, endurance, and fidelity, by which it is held to the early ages of Christianity—its unity of action, consistency of precept and practice, and conformity of theory and doctrine, as well as the great lights of intellect that have shed lustre upon it in the past and present—men whose genius has elevated them above the gloom of dying centuries to overflow history with glory—these have commended the Catholic Church favorably to my judgment; and regarding its onward progress and increasing popularity with no jaundiced sectarian eye or jealous faction-spirit, but with the extension of civilization and Christianity—I feel the pressure of no petty, vulgar prejudice in wishing it, with all other Christian organizations, 'God speed;' and if this sentiment be in hostility with Protestantism, as for myself and it I say, 'perish the connection'—'live' the enlightened liberality and intelligence of civilized and educated man.

"Yours, very truly, etc. "Macon, December 31, 1856."

From Savannah, F. Baker, with two companions, went to give a mission in Augusta. On the pages of the Mission Records several interesting incidents of this mission are related. On the first Sunday morning of the mission, three gentlemen called on the fathers, all of whom, it appeared, were converts. One of them was called Dr. W. B., the second, his nephew, Dr. M., and the third was the overseer of Dr. B.'s plantation. This Dr. B. had been received into the Catholic Church some months previously, and had entered a Catholic church for the first time that morning. He was a man of fine and genteel appearance, with gray hair and a long, black beard, an intelligent and educated physician. So great was his excitement, and so wonderful did every thing which he saw that may appear through the magnifying glass of his imagination, that on his return home that night, at eleven o'clock, he awoke his brother and made him get up and light a fire, that he might relate the events of the day. As a sample of the proportion in which he viewed the whole, it may suffice to say that he described one of the fathers as seven and a-half feet high—at least six inches taller than the Georgia giant. The brother alluded to, also a physician and planter, made his appearance a day or two later. He was quite an elderly gentleman, with an intelligent countenance and a magnificent patriarchal beard. A painter could not find a better head for an Apostle, or for one of the ancient Bishops or Fathers of the Church than his. He was a man with an intellect like Brownson's, and full of information. He became a Catholic a few years ago from reading Brownson's Review. Since that time he has been a great champion of the Church, and, through his influence, his own family, his brother and sister, his nephew and some others, have also been converted. One of the latter was then residing in Dr. B.'s own family, and was leading a most remarkably penitential life. This gentleman (a Mr. S.), of high birth and education, was formerly a lawyer, and a married man of large property. He was renowned for his courage, and had fought with one of the most celebrated duellists of South Carolina, named R. This gentleman lost his property and was abandoned by his wife. About seven years before he had become a Catholic, he lived for a considerable time with his brother, an unprincipled and ferocious man, who scarcely allowed him a bare pittance. He was dressed in rags, was barefooted, and lived on bread which he baked himself.

After a few years, when Dr. B. had become a Catholic, and opened a small chapel on his own plantation, Mr. S. appeared there one day at Mass in his miserable plight. Dr. R. invited him to stay with him, and gave him a small office to live in, and all other things requisite for his comfort. Here he had been living ever since, leading the life of a saint, and passing a great portion of his time in reading Catholic books, especially Brownson's Review, which he knew almost by heart. The Doctor said that the only thing which could excite his anger, was to hear anyone speak against Brownson, or contradict any thing he says. As an instance of his penance, I will relate how, according to Dr. B.'s account, he attempted to pass one Lent. He had been reading the Lives of the Fathers of the Desert, and he endeavored to imitate their example precisely and to the letter. His whole food consisted of a small quantity of bread, and during the last three days he wanted to fast entirely, but Dr. B. threatened that, if he did, he would send a little negro for Father B., to excommunicate him. He was wasted to a skeleton, and did not recover the effects of his fasting for six months afterward. On one occasion, Mr. S. found a poor, sick negro, with no one to attend him, and not contented with waiting on him and taking care of him, as he was constantly in the habit of doing for all the sick within several miles' distance, he washed his feet, and, for want of a towel, wiped them with his pocket-handkerchief. It was necessary to watch him, lest he might give away his clothes to the negroes and when he needed new clothes, they were put secretly in his way, and the old ones removed.

Others in this neighborhood, who were not yet Catholics, were so well disposed that they had their children baptized. Edgefield and the country round about was formerly celebrated for the lawless and violent character of the population, for the frequency of murders, and for the bitter prejudice existing against the Catholic Church; so much so, that a priest could not obtain the Court-House to preach in. When the elder Dr. B. became a Catholic, Dr. W. B. declared that he would burn up his wife and children and his whole house before they should become Catholics, and any priest who should chance to come near him. Another gentleman, since a convert, said that, if one of his children should become a Catholic, he would take him by the heels and dash out his brains against a stone wall. Dr. M., when he went to study medicine with his uncle, the elder Dr. B., made a vow that he would never enter the chapel and never desert the faith of his fathers; and his parents told him on leaving home that, if he became a Catholic, he should never cross the Savannah River again or see their faces. After some months, he became silent and melancholy. For a while he concealed the cause, but at last, one evening he told his aunt that he could hold out no longer, and was a Catholic at heart. Shortly after receiving his medical diploma, he determined to renounce the practice of medicine, and has recently been ordained to the priesthood.

At Edgefield a lot of seven acres was purchased in the middle of the town, for a church, to be built of brown stone, in the Gothic style. Five gentlemen had already subscribed sixteen hundred dollars for the church, and Father B. was collecting for the same purpose. There was a general inclination throughout the whole town to embrace the Catholic faith, and already there is a small band of the best Catholics in the country there—souls that have been led by the great God Himself, by the wonderful ways of His most holy grace. Dr. B. has since died, and what has been the fate of the little congregation, and of the beautiful church which was commenced, during the troubles and miseries of the civil war, I know not. They have not, however, hindered the Catholics of Augusta from completing and paying for a large and costly church, the successor of a very good and commodious edifice of brick where the mission was given.

After leaving Augusta, we went to Savannah once more, and on the 29th of January went on board the little steamer Gen. Clinch, which was afterward turned into a gunboat during the civil war, to begin our voyage by the inland route to St. Augustine, Florida. This inland route has some peculiar and picturesque features. The steamer passes down the Savannah River, with its banks lined with the green and gold orange trees, until, near the mouth, it turns into its proper route, leading through a succession of small sounds, connected by narrow, serpentine rivers, where you seem to be sailing over the meadows, usually in sight of the ocean, and quite often aground for some hours at a time. The steamer was very small and very crowded, our progress very leisurely and interrupted by several long stoppages, so that our voyage was protracted for five days. It is seldom that a more motley or singular and amusing group of passengers is collected in a small cabin. Besides the three Catholic priests, who were to the others the greatest curiosities on board, we had an army lieutenant, since then the commander of a corps d'armée in the great civil war, an old wizard who was consulting his familiar spirits incessantly for the amusement or information of the passengers; a plantation doctor, a wild young Arkansas lawyer of the fire-eating type, a professor of mathematics, a crotchety, good-humored New York farmer, with very peculiar religious opinions, a young man who professed himself a universal sceptic, two or three gentlemen of education and polished manners, who were not at all singular, but appeared quite so in such an odd assemblage; and some others in no way remarkable. The cramped accommodations, the long voyage, and the usual bonhommie which prevails on such occasions were well fitted to draw out all the oddities and idiosyncrasies of the company. The spiritualist, who was an uneducated and uncouth specimen of humanity, with a great deal of native shrewdness, and a good-humored, loquacious disposition, was the center of attraction. The professor and the philosophical farmer engaged with him in a long and earnest discussion of spiritualism, which ended in his exhibiting his powers as a consulter of the spirits. Most of the passengers made trial of his skill in this respect, although his performance was the most patent of silly impostures, only amusing from its absurdity. The professor tried him sorely by asking him a question which seemed to have caused himself many an hour of anxious and fruitless thought, and which he appeared to despair of solving metaphysically: "Can God annihilate space?" The old gentleman's spirit did not appear to have investigated this question to his own complete satisfaction, for he gave him no positive answer. He was silent for a moment, with a puzzled look, evidently fearing a trap, and at last answered, "I don't know, but I guess He could if He tried; He made it, and I guess He could annihilate it." Just as the professor was going to retire to his berth, the old man took revenge by telling him that he had just been informed by the spirits that one of his children was sick of scarlet fever. The wizard left the boat at Brunswick, but as the conversation had taken a religious and philosophical turn at first, it continued in that direction, the two individuals before mentioned being the principal interlocutors. We did not join much in it, as it was evidently distasteful to several of the company, who wished to read quietly or converse on ordinary topics. Before we parted, however, one of our number took the opportunity which offered itself of having a little pleasant and rational discussion with the professor and one or two others, who were really intelligent and well-informed. On New Year's Day we remained several hours at St. Mary's, Georgia, where we found the mayor of the place to be a Catholic gentleman, of Acadian descent, and were hospitably entertained at his house. The boat passed the night at Fernandina, and the next day we went out of the St. Mary's River, across a short and dangerous stretch of ocean between a line of breakers and the shore, into the St. John's, and up that romantic river, so full of historical associations. Friday evening saw us befogged above Jacksonville, and on Saturday morning we learned to our dismay that our captain was going past our landing, and on to Pilatka, which would keep us on board his miserable little craft until the next week, and prevent the opening of the mission on the Sunday. Touching for a few moments at Fleming's Island, we found friends at the little dock, who were passing the winter on the island, and who informed us that we could go from there that afternoon to our destination. We debarked accordingly, our friend the professor in company with us, and were refreshed with a good breakfast at the hotel where our friends were lodging, and a stroll around the little island. On the arrival of the steamer, the whole party went on board and proceeded to Picolata, where we took stage-coaches for St. Augustine, arriving there on Saturday evening. About halfway between Picolata and St. Augustine there is a post-house, where, in the last Florida War with the Seminole Indians, a party of travelling actors were surprised and murdered by Indians, who dressed themselves in their fantastic costumes, and in that guise made a hostile demonstration in the neighborhood of St. Augustine.

To Americans, this old town seems to have a vast antiquity, claiming as it does the respectable age of three centuries. The Catholic church here is almost as old as Protestantism, and a brief of St. Pius V., in regard to some of the religious affairs of this colony, is still extant. There are remnants of an old wall in several places, and a large fortress built in Spanish times, and called the castle of St. Marco, where you may yet see the marks of the cannon-shot fired at the invasion of Oglethorpe from Georgia. This fort might serve as a scene for the plot of a new "Mysteries of Udolfo," it is so unlike any thing modern, and so thoroughly Spanish and mediæval. It is not, however, of a sort to make one regret the past. Its dark, damp casemates look like prisons, especially one frightful dungeon, which is a cell within a cell, without any embrasure, and admitting no light or air except that which comes through the door opening into the outer casemate. This was the cell of the greatest criminals. In one of these casemates, Wildcat, the celebrated Indian chief, was once confined with a companion. Although cruel and blood-thirsty, Wildcat was a great warrior, and a man gifted with a high order of genius, an orator, a poet, and a true cavalier of the forest. On pretence of illness, he and his companion reduced their bulk as much as possible by a low diet and purgative medicines, and by the aid of a knife, which he had secreted and used as a spike by thrusting it into the wall of soft concrete, with a rope dexterously made from strips of his bed-clothes, he clambered to the high and narrow embrasure, squeezed himself through, not without scraping the skin from his breast, and let himself down into the moat. His companion followed him, but fell to the ground, breaking his leg. Nevertheless, Wildcat carried him off, seized a stray mule, and escaped to his tribe in the forest. After the conclusion of the war, he went to Mexico, where he became the alcalde of an Indian village, and did his new country essential service by leading a body of Indian warriors, armed with Mississippi rifles, against a band of filibusters from the United States. Osceola, the half-breed king of the Seminoles, who was not only a hero, but a just and humane man, was also captured near St. Augustine, by treachery and bad faith, and confined in this fortress for a time, but afterward removed to Charleston, where he died of a broken heart. The great mahogany treasure-chest of Don Juan Menendez is still remaining in the fortress, and in one of the casemates are remnants of a rude stone altar and holy-water stoups, marking the site of a chapel. The fortress is kept in good preservation by our Government, and a noble sea-wall extends from it to the barracks at the other end of the town, which are established in an ancient Franciscan monastery. A great part of the old city is in ruins. The old Spanish families left the country when it was ceded by Spain to the United States, and the resident inhabitants are Minorcans, negroes, and a small number of settlers from the other portions of the United States. The Minorcans are descendants of a body of colonists, brought to Florida under false pretences by an English speculator, who enslaved them, and kept them for a long time in that state before they became aware that there was any way of escaping from it. When they did take courage to shake off the yoke, they removed to the Spanish colony of St. Augustine, where they retain their language, a dialect of the Spanish, with their ancient, simple character and habits. The illustrious Spanish names which some of them bear amused us greatly. Sanchez was the proprietor of a line of slow coaches. Suarez had charge of F. Madeore's farm, and Ximenes served Mass. The church is a large Spanish structure, built, as are most of the houses, of soft concrete formed from sea-shells. On a green in front of it stands the only remaining monument, erected in commemoration of the formation of the Spanish Constitution of 1814. The tower has a chime of small bells, which are rung in a most joyous, clashing style, according to the Spanish custom, for festive occasions, and with a peculiarly plaintive peal for deaths and funerals. The cemetery is called Tolomato, which was the name of an Indian village formerly occupying its site. The ruins of an ancient mission chapel are still to be seen there, where F. Roger, a French Jesuit, was murdered by an apostate Indian chief and his warriors. After killing F. Roger, the band proceeded to another chapel, called Nuestra Señora de Leche, where they found a priest just robed for Mass. He requested the chief to allow him to say Mass, and his desire was granted, the savages prostrating themselves with their faces to the ground while he performed the holy function, lest the sight of him should soften their hearts. After Mass he knelt at the foot of the altar, and received a blow from the tomahawk which made him a martyr.

Tolomato contains also the beautiful tomb erected by the Cubans over the grave of the Rev. Dr. Varela, a learned, holy, and patriotic priest, a native of the Island of Cuba, and a member of the Spanish Cortes which established the Constitution. Banished from his native country, where his memory has always been fondly cherished, he passed the greater part of a long life as a laborious parish priest in New York, and died in St. Augustine. There is a beautiful chapel over his grave, with an altar of marble and mahogany, and a heavy marble slab in the center of the pavement, containing the simple but eloquent inscription: "Al Padre Varela los Cubanos"-The Cubans to Father Varela.

The mission in St. Augustine absorbed the whole attention of the Catholic population, who formed a large majority of the inhabitants. Great numbers of them gathered to welcome the fathers on their arrival, and whenever they went out they were met and greeted by groups of these simple, warm-hearted people, and followed by a troop of children, who live there in a perpetual holiday. There was scarcely any business or work done there at any time; the climate and the fertility both of the land and water in the means of subsistence furnishing the necessaries of life to the poorer classes without much trouble. Most of these pass their time in fishing, and even this occupation was intermitted, so that on Friday there was not a fish to be found in the market. The people seemed literally to have nothing whatever to do; the fort and barracks were garrisoned by one soldier with his wife and children; the government of the place was a sinecure; the mails came only twice a week; behind the city lay the interminable, uninhabited everglade; before it the Atlantic Ocean, with its waters and breezes warmed by the Gulf Stream, and unvisited by any sails to disturb its solitude, except at rare intervals. Although it was midwinter, the weather was commonly as pleasant and the sun as warm as it is in New England in the month of June. I have never witnessed such a scene of dreamy, listless, sunshiny indolence, where every thing seemed to combine to lull the mind and senses into complete forgetfulness of the existence of an active world. To the people, however, it was one of the most exciting periods of their lives. The presence of several strange priests, the continual sermons and religious exercises, gave an unwonted air of life and activity to the precincts of the old church, and roused them to an unusual animation. Drunkenness, dishonesty, and the graver vices were almost unknown among them.

The negroes were found to be an extremely virtuous, innocent, and docile class of people. Honest, sober, observant of the laws of marriage, faithful and contented in their easy employments, which seemed to suit their disposition very well, and in many cases not only pious, but very intelligent, and exhibiting fine traits of character, they were the best evidence we had yet seen of what the Catholic religion can do for this oppressed and ill-used race. One of them, a pilot on one of the steamboats navigating the St. John's River, impressed me as one of the most admirable men of his class in life, for capacity and conscientious Christian principle, I have ever met. Another, who was a freedman of the celebrated John Randolph, and for many years his personal attendant, was not only intelligent and well informed, but a well-bred gentleman in his manners and appearance.

The most interesting incident of the mission was the conversion of an ordnance sergeant of the regular army, who was in charge of the fortress. This brave soldier had distinguished himself in the Mexican war, by the recapture of a cannon which had been taken in one of the battles by the Mexicans, and by his general character for gallantry and fidelity to his duties. His wife and children were Catholics, but he himself had lived until that time without any religion. On New-Year's night, as he sat alone in the barracks, after his family had retired, he began to think over his past life, and resolved to begin at once to live for the great end for which God had created him. He knelt down and said a few prayers, to ask the grace and blessing of God on his good resolutions. His prayers were heard, and during the mission he was received into the Catholic Church and admitted to the sacraments with all the signs of sincerity and fervor which were to be expected from one of such a resolute and manly character. I wish to mention one interesting circumstance which he related to me, as showing the power of good example in men of high station in the world. He told me that the first impression he received of the truth and excellence of the Catholic religion, was received from witnessing the admirable life of that accomplished Christian gentleman and soldier, Captain Gareschè, to whose company he belonged. Many readers will recall, as they read these records, the admirable and glorious close of this officer's career on the field of battle. During the Western campaign of General Rosecrans, Lieutenant-Colonel Garesché was his chief of staff. Before the battle of Stone River, he received Holy Communion, and was observed afterward alone under a tree, reading the "Imitation of Christ." During the engagement, one of the fiercest and most bloody of the civil war, he rode, by the side of his gallant general, through a storm of shot and shell, and by his side he fell, besprinkling his beloved commander with his blood, as he sank upon the field to die, and yielded up his noble life to his country and to God.

The labors of this mission were so light that it was more like holiday than work for us. The presence of a number of very agreeable and intelligent Catholic gentlemen and ladies, who were visitors in the place, and some of whom were old friends, added very much to the liveliness of the mission, and to our own enjoyment of its peculiar attendant circumstances. One of these was the Abbé Le Blond, a dear friend of ours and of all who knew him, a priest of Montreal, who was gradually dying of consumption, yet full of vivacity and activity, improving the remnant of his days by his labors of love and zeal, and his works of charity in different parts [of] the South where he passed his winters. He died eventually in Rome. Another was Lieutenant McDonald, of the British Royal Navy, and also, for some time before leaving England, a captain in the Queen's Guards, a Highland gentleman of a family that has always been true to the faith, also since deceased.

The quiet city of St. Augustine, as well as all the other scenes and places where we passed that winter on our missionary tour, has since then been visited by the desolating breath of war. Probably all is changed, and greater changes yet are coming with the new issues of peace—changes which, there is reason to hope, will advance both the religious and temporal welfare of the people. Florida may yet become a populous State, and the handful of Catholics in it swell into a number sufficient to make a flourishing diocese.

Immediately after the close of the mission, F. Baker proceeded by sea to Charleston where he met the other two missionaries who had been at work in Georgia, and commenced a mission in the cathedral of that city. His two companions were detained for a time in St. Augustine by the sudden and severe illness of one of them, and they went on a little later, returning by the same leisurely route by which they came to Savannah, and thence to Charleston, where the mission was already in progress.

Charleston possessed three Catholic churches, and its Catholic population numbered from five to six thousand. All the congregations were invited to the mission, and a large number of them did attend from St. Mary's and St. Patrick's, together with the whole body of the cathedral parish. The same work performed by the missionaries in Savannah had been gone through in Charleston, in scouring the lanes and alleys of the city to bring up the stragglers, and the great cathedral was accordingly crowded, morning and night. First of all, two hundred bright and well-instructed children received communion in a body, and afterward, through the course of the mission, three thousand adults, among whom were twenty converts to the faith.

Father Baker never, during the whole course of his missionary life, enjoyed any thing so much as this Southern tour, and especially his stay at Charleston, the most delightful city of the South. After the long seclusion of three years in a convent, which had impaired his health and vigor, the recreation and pleasure of such a trip wad most beneficial and delightful to him. The work in which he was engaged, besides the higher satisfaction which it gave to his zeal and charity, had also the charm and excitement of novelty, without the pressure of too arduous and excessive labor. At Charleston, he was already prepared by his previous experience and practice to take a full share in the principal sermons, and to give them that peculiar tone and effect which is characteristic of mission sermons, and makes them sui generis among all others. All the circumstances were calculated to call the noblest powers of his mind and the warmest emotions of his heart into full play. The cathedral was large, beautiful, and of a fine ecclesiastical style in all its arrangements. The adjoining presbytery, which had been built for a convent, and all the surroundings, were both appropriate for the residence of a body of cathedral clergy and pleasing to the eye of taste. The clergymen themselves, with their distinguished head, afterward the bishop of the diocese, were men of accomplished learning and genial character, whose kindness and hospitality knew no bounds, and whose zeal made them efficient fellow-laborers in the work of the mission. The congregation itself had many features of unusual interest. Having been long established, and carefully watched over, since the illustrious Bishop England organized the diocese, containing a large permanent population of various national descent and of all classes of society, not a few of whom were converts from South Carolina families, an unusually large number of intelligent young men, trained up to a great extent under the care of the clergy, and thus giving scope and affording a field for a man like F. Baker to display his special gifts to the greatest advantage and profit—it is not surprising that he should have called out, both in his public discharge of duty and in private and social intercourse, that same warm admiration which had followed him in the former period of his life. In his sermons, he went far above his former level, and began to develop that combination of the best and most perfect elements of sacred eloquence, which, in the estimation of the most impartial and competent judges, placed him in the first rank of preachers. The present bishop of Charleston, whose pre-eminent learning and high qualities of mind are well known, pronounced one of F. Baker's discourses a perfect sermon, and the best he had ever heard. The Catholics of Charleston never saw Father Baker again; but they never forgot him, and he never forgot them; for, during the rest of his too short life, he recurred frequently to the remembrance of that mission, which was so rich in the highest kind of pleasure, as well as spiritual profit and blessing.

At that time, all was peace. Sumter was solitary and silent, untenanted by a single soldier. Fort Moultrie and Sullivan's Island, and the beautiful battery and the bay were calm and peaceful, where, a few years later, all was black and angry with the terrible thunder-storm of war. Blackened ruins are all that remain of that beautiful cathedral and the pleasant home of the clergy. Some of those clergymen have died in attending the sick soldiers of the United States, and others are scattered in different places. Many of those fine young men and bright boys have left their bodies on the battle-field, or lost the bloom and vigor of their youth in the unwholesome camp or hospital or military prison. The good Sisters have been driven from one shelter to another, by the terrible necessities of a desperate warfare, whose miseries they have courageously striven to alleviate by their heroic charity. Charleston has been desolated, and the Church of Charleston has shared in the common ruin. Nevertheless, there is every reason to hope that this temporary period of desolation will be succeeded in due time by one more auspicious for the solid and extensive progress of the Catholic religion than any which has yet been seen, in that vast region where the eloquent voice of Bishop England proclaimed the blessed faith of the true and apostolic Church of Christ.

After the conclusion of the Charleston mission, F. Baker returned to Annapolis, and remained there in charge of the little parish attached to the convent, until the following September. One of his companions, the invalid of St. Augustine, went to Cuba to re-establish his health; and the other three, after giving several other missions in New York State, returned also to summer quarters.

The missionary labors in which F. Baker had been thus far engaged, were, comparatively speaking, but a light and pleasant prelude to the continuous and arduous missionary career of a little more than seven years, which he commenced in the autumn of 1857. At the very outset he was obliged to make a decision of a very grave and important matter, which resulted in a still more complete separation from the scenes and associates of his past life, and threw him more completely upon a pure and conscientious devotion to his priestly duties for the sake of God alone, as his only consolation in this world.

One of our number was at that time in Rome, for the purpose of obtaining from the chief authority a settlement of certain difficulties which had arisen, and which impeded the successful and harmonious prosecution of the missions. The question was finally settled by a separation of five American Redemptorists, by a brief of the Holy Father, from their former congregation, and the formation of the new Congregation of St. Paul, under episcopal authority. F. Baker was for the first time informed of the reasons for appealing to the decision of the Holy Father, at the mission of St. James's Church, Newark, which commenced on the 26th of September, 1857. I have no intention of exposing the history of the difference which arose between us and our former religious superiors, or of making a criticism upon their conduct. If the providence of God ordered events in such a way that a new congregation should be formed for a special purpose, it is nothing new or strange that men, having a different vocation, and whose views and aims were cast in a different mould, should with the most conscientious intentions, be unable to coincide in judgment or act in concert. There is room in the Catholic Church for every kind of religious organization, suiting all the varieties of mind and character and circumstance. If collisions and misunderstandings often come between those who have the same great end in view, this is the result of human infirmity, and only shows how imperfect and partial are human wisdom and human virtue. All that I am concerned to show is, that F. Baker did not swerve from his original purpose in choosing the religious state. He had never been discontented with his state, or with his superiors. He was still in the first fervor of his vocation, and had just made a strict and exact retreat. He deliberated for some weeks within his own mind, without saying or doing any thing to commit himself to any particular line of conduct. When he finally made up his mind to cast in his lot with his missionary companions, and to abide with them the decision of the Holy Father, it was solely in view of serving God and his fellow-men in the most perfect manner. For the congregation where he was trained to the religious and ecclesiastical state, he always retained a sincere esteem and affection. He did not ask the Pope for a dispensation from his vows in order to be relieved from a burdensome obligation, but only on the condition that it seemed best to him to terminate the difficulty which had arisen in that way. When the dispensation was granted, he did not change his life for a more easy one. He resisted a pressing solicitation to return to Baltimore as a secular priest, and continued until his death to labor in a missionary life, and to practise the poverty, the obedience, the assiduity in prayer and meditation, and the seclusion from the world, which belong to the religious state. Let no one, therefore, who is disposed to yield to temptations against his vocation, and to abandon the religious state from weariness, tepidity, or any unworthy motive, think to find any encouragement in the example of F. Baker; for his austere, self-denying, and arduous life will give him only rebuke, and not encouragement.

During the entire autumn and winter of this year, F. Baker and his companions were occupied in a continuous course of large and successful missions, in the parishes of St. James, Newark; Cold Spring and Poughkeepsie, on the Hudson; St. John's, Utica, N. Y.; Brandywine, Del.; Trenton, N. J.; Burlington, Brandon, East and West Rutland, Vt.; Plattsburg, Saratoga, and Little Falls, New York. With loyal hearts we continued to obey our superiors, and fulfil our obligations as Redemptorists, until the supreme authority in the Church released us by his decree. This decree was issued on the 6th of March, 1858, and received by us on the 6th of April. After the Mission of Little Falls, F. Baker was directed by the Provincial to return to Annapolis, and although fatigued by the missions, and aware that his dispensation was on the way, yet, true to the letter to his principle of obedience, he obeyed at once. The other three missionaries passed the Holy Week and Easter in the convent of New York, in Third street, and, after receiving the official copy of the Papal decree, bade farewell to the congregation where we had passed so many happy years, and witnessed so many edifying examples of high virtue and devoted zeal, to enter upon a new and untried undertaking.

Our first asylum was the home of Geo. V. Hecker, Esq., who kindly gave up to our use a portion of his house as a little temporary convent, where we remained some weeks, saying Mass in his beautiful private chapel, which was completely furnished with every thing necessary for that purpose. The Bishop of Newark had made an arrangement to receive us under his jurisdiction, as soon as our relation to our congregation was terminated, and faculties from the diocese of New York were obtained from the archbishop. We continued to follow our accustomed mode of life, and obey our former Superior of the Missions. After a short time we gave a mission at Watertown, in the diocese of Albany, and were not a little encouraged by receiving, late on the Saturday evening before the mission was opened, the special faculties which had been obtained for each one of us at Rome, for giving the Papal Benediction. The grand and spacious church of this beautiful town, which is worthy to be a cathedral from its size and architecture, was crowded by the largest number of Protestants we had ever seen on similar occasion, and a number of converts were received into the Church. From Watertown we came to St. Bridget's Church in New York, where we had one of our largest, most laborious, and most fruitful missions. This was the first one of those heavy city missions so frequent during our early career, at which F. Baker had assisted, where the crowds of people were so overwhelming, and the labor so excessive and exhausting. He went into his work with a brave spirit and an untiring zeal, and scarcely allowed himself even a breathing-spell. The love and admiration which the warm-hearted people of this congregation acquired for him was never diminished, and there was no one whom they ever after loved so much to see revisiting their church. Before the close, F. Hecker arrived from Rome, after a year's absence, bringing a special benediction from the Holy Father upon our future labors, and a warm commendatory letter from the Cardinal Prefect of the Propaganda. At the end of the mission we found ourselves without a home, and we remained so until the spring of the following year, dependent for the most part on the hospitality of individual friends among the clergy and laity for a temporary shelter. For a short time we were obliged to take lodgings in an ordinary respectable boarding-house in Thirteenth street, near several churches and chapels, where we could say Mass every day, without incommoding anyone. Our kind friend and generous patron, Mr. Hecker, afterward gave up to us his whole house, while his family were in the country; leaving his servants, and making ample provision for furnishing us with every comfort in the most hospitable style. During the summer, the "Congregation of Missionary Priests of St. Paul the Apostle" was organized, under the approbation and authority of the archbishop; and arrangements were commenced for the foundation of a religious house and church, with a parochial charge annexed. While we were occupying Mr. Hecker's house, two burglars entered the building one night, through a window incautiously left open, came into the room occupied by F. Baker and one of his companions, and robbed them of their watches, which were fortunately of small value, some articles of clothing, likewise not very costly, and a trifling amount of loose change; but, seeing two other men of no small stature in the adjoining room, prudently decamped, without finding a number of costly articles belonging to the chapel, although they had examined the drawer where the albs and amices were kept. None of us were awakened, and the first news we had of the midnight raid upon our territory was given by F. Baker exclaiming that his coat had been stolen. We laughed at him at first, but it was soon discovered that his intelligence was correct, and that the next house had been visited also by the robbers. This adventure gave occasion for a great deal of mirth among ourselves, and many speculations as to the probable results of an encounter with the robbers, in case we had awakened, in which fatal consequences to the latter were freely predicted. As usual in such cases, the police examined the matter, gave very sagacious information as to the mode of entrance and exit, and discovered no trace of the burglars themselves. We were only too happy that the chalice and vestments had not been carried off.

The burden which was assumed by our small community was a very heavy one. It was necessary for us to continue the missions without interruption, and at the same time to provide the means of making a permanent foundation, which could not be done without securing property, and erecting a church and religious house at a cost of about $65,000. During this time of struggle for life, F. Baker was one of the main stays of the missions, and one of the most arduous and efficient of our number in working at the collection of funds and the organization of the parish. After a summer spent in this latter work, a course of missions was commenced in September, the first of which was a heavy one, in a congregation numbering 5,000 souls, at the cathedral of Providence, in which we were all engaged. The next was a retreat given to men alone, and specifically to the members of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul, in the cathedral of New York. F. Baker closed it with a magnificent sermon in his happiest vein, on "The Standard of Christian Character for men in the world." The following notice of the retreat, taken from the Freeman's Journal, is more graphic than any that I can give, and I therefore quote it entire, in place of describing it in my own language:—

"The retreat given by the band of Missionaries of St. Paul the Apostle to members of St. Vincent de Paul's Society, and other men of this city, closed on Sunday evening, the Rev. Father Baker preaching an admirable sermon on the characteristics of Christian perfection for men in the world. During the week that this retreat has continued, the number of men approaching the sacraments was about two thousand. The religious effects of the occasion will be great and permanent. But besides results that the Catholic faith leads to expect, St. Patrick's Cathedral has, the past week, presented a subject for thought and astonishment to the observing and reflecting man, though not a Catholic. What has gathered these crowds of busy, practical men? What keeps them kneeling, or standing quietly in solid masses, for an hour before the exercises commence? Most of these men rose from their beds at four o'clock, some as early as half-past three, and made long walks through the darkness to secure their standing-place in the church during the early instructions. They hear from the pulpit solid, distinct, earnest instructions in regard to what a man must believe, and in regard to what he must do to attain eternal life when this world is past. But whence comes this lively appreciation of truths beyond the reach of the senses, in the minds of men plunged all day long, and every day, in material occupations? Here are men of the class that, in communities not Catholic, do not suffer religion to interfere with their comfort—who like best to discuss the points of their religious profession after dinner, and to listen to sermons while seated in cushioned pews. What causes them thus to stand in the packed throng of the faithful, listening to the homely details of daily duties required of them, or kneeling on the hard floor, repeating with the multitude, in a loud voice, the prayers they learned in childhood? Then, these sons of humblest toil that kneel beside them. All the heat and excitement of the "revival" failed to bring any considerable number of the corresponding class of non-Catholics to the "prayer-meetings." The latter mentioned would say that they had to look out for their daily bread, and that the rich men at the prayer-meetings did not want them any way. Here they are at St. Patrick's, by five o'clock in the morning, and either they do without their breakfast, or it was dispatched an hour or more before. These various classes of men, having attended the exercises given by the Missionaries of St. Paul, during the week, stood crowded within St. Patrick's on Sunday evening. The parting instruction of the missionaries was to stir them, by all the courage and fervor and endurance that they had manifested during the retreat, to fix higher principles and firmer purposes for the guidance of their future life—to be faithful to every duty, to their families, to society, and to themselves—to be manly in their religious observances, and generous in sacrificing for their faith and for God every attachment that brings scandal on their religion or danger to their own virtue. At the close of the exercises by the missionaries, the Most Rev. Archbishop Hughes made some remarks to the vast congregation. He said he found no necessity of adding any thing to what the missionaries, according to the special objects of their calling, had done, to cause the truths most appropriate and necessary to sink into hearts so well prepared to receive and retain them. But the spectacle before him was one he could not let pass without some words expressive of his gratification. When a few Catholic young men first met in the archbishops's house to form the first Conference of St. Vincent de Paul, he had formed high anticipations of the good their association would do each other and the Catholic community at large. Here, to-night, he saw the realization of his hopes. When he reflected on the influence that must be exerted on the Catholic body, and on this great city—where, alas, there was no other religion capable of influencing and restraining men except the Catholic—by so great a company of men instructed in their religion, and fervent in its practice—he had the wish that such meetings for these exercises, might, at intervals, be repeated in all the Catholic churches in the city. He then thanked the missionaries for their labors—he knew they asked not thanks from men—but still it was due that he, in the name of those who had been benefited by their exercises, should thank them.

"This retreat for men has been, in some respects, of especial interest, and has been highly successful; and, for the complete satisfaction that it has afforded, it must be said that nothing which discreet forethought and arrangement, or affectionate zeal and assiduity could effect, was left undone by the Very Rev. Mr. Starrs, V. G. and Rector of the Cathedral."

The third mission was given at the cathedral of Covington, when the following circumstance occurred. A Protestant gentleman, who was present one evening, had a phial of poison in his pocket, with which he was fully determined to destroy his own life; but the sermon of F. Baker on the Particular Judgment made such a powerful impression on his mind that he threw away the poison and disclosed to his friends what his desperate purpose had been. From Covington, F. Hecker returned to New York, to attend to our affairs there, and F. Baker with two companions went on a tour of missions, which continued from November until Christmas, in the State of Michigan. The flourishing parishes located in the pretty villages of Kalamazoo, Marshall, Jackson, and Ann Arbor, were the ones visited. The last of these missions deserves a special notice, which I extract from the "Records":—

"The pastor of the church in Ann Arbor has two congregations under his charge, one at Ann Arbor, and the other at Northfield. The latter is the larger of the two, and it was earnestly desired that we should give them a separate mission. We were told that it was vain to expect them to come to the service at Ann Arbor, and, as they were already jealous of the Ann Arbor people, if we did not give them a mission of their own, their dissatisfaction would be increased, and we should do more harm than good by our visit. We on our part would have been willing to give them a double mission; but as there was no house near the Northfield church where the missionaries could lodge, it was decided to be impossible, and we concluded that one of the fathers should go out on Sunday and announce the mission to the Northfield people, and invite them to attend at Ann Arbor. The result proved the wisdom of the decision, for the people came in from the country in crowds, thus increasing the life and animation of the mission. The weather was mild and pleasant, the nights were bright and moonlit, and every morning and evening crowds of wagons were drawn up around the church, some from ten, some from fifteen, and some even from twenty miles off. The church was crowded by five o'clock in the morning, and the congregation, not content with assisting at one Mass and the Instruction, remained until late in the morning, when the Masses were all over. In the evening, the crowd was rendered still denser by the large representation of Protestants who attended. On the last night, the crowd was so great, that not only was the church packed in every part to its utmost capacity, but even the windows were filled with young men who had climbed up from without, and the trees around the church offered a perch for those who had to content themselves with a bird's-eye view of the scene."

I have noticed this mission more particularly, because this Northfield congregation was a specimen of several Catholic farming communities with which we came in contact on our missions. The prosperity, happiness, and virtue which I have found existing among this class of our people, induce me to recommend most earnestly to all those who have at heart the welfare of our Catholic Irish population, to promote in every way their devoting themselves to agricultural pursuits in the country. It would be a great blessing if the large towns could be depleted of the surplus population with which they are overcrowded, and the tide of immigration diverted from them, to be distributed over our vast territory. This agricultural life is incomparably more wholesome, more happy, and more favorable to virtue and piety than the feverish, comfortless, and unnatural existence to which the mass of the laboring class are condemned in large cities. It is free from a thousand influences vitiating both to the soul and the body, and, above all things, better for the proper training of children. Our young men and women of American origin are deserting this agricultural life, and leaving vacant the fields of their fathers, to plunge into a more exciting and adventurous life, which promises to satisfy more speedily their desire for wealth. Let our young Irishmen, who come here to find a better field for their strength and vigor than they have at home, and those who have grown up here, but find themselves unable to get a proper field for their industry in the old and crowded settlements, come in and take their places, leave the cities, shun the factory towns, and strike into the open country. Sobriety, industry, and prudence, will secure to every young man of this sort, in due time, the position of an independent land-holder. There is a hidden treasure of wealth, health, virtue, and happiness in the soil, which will richly reward those who dig for it, and will also enrich both the country and the Church.

I may also mention with pleasure, in connection with the Ann Arbor Mission, my agreeable recollections of the polite attentions we received from the president and gentlemen of the University of Michigan. This is by no means a solitary instance of courtesy extended to us in the Protestant community. In many parts of the United States, we have received the most polite and friendly attentions, and occasionally hospitable entertainment, both from clergymen and laymen of different religious denominations, as well as a general manifestation of respect and good-will on the part of the community. Sometimes the mission has excited ill-will, and obstacles have been thrown in the way of domestics and other dependent persons attending it. But in many other cases, not only has there been no interference, but every facility has been given, by owners of factories, who have shortened the time of work and given leave of absence, and by masters and mistresses of families, who have excused their servants from their ordinary work, and even furnished them with conveyances, when they lived at a distance.

From Michigan, the missionaries returned to New York, and after New Year's, being rejoined by Father Hecker, gave a mission in St. Mary's Church, New Haven, a large and very flourishing parish, which is, however, only one of three in the classic "City of Elms;" where, thirty-five years ago, there was not a Catholic to be found, except, perhaps, one or two serving-men in wealthy families.

After this mission, I revisited several of the places where we had given missions in South Carolina and Georgia, to solicit aid for our infant community, which was given in a liberal and generous manner, worthy of those warm-hearted Catholics, who, I trust, will receive a similar return from their Northern brethren, whenever they ask for it, to enable them to repair the ruin which has been made among them by civil war.

During my absence, two missions were given by the other three fathers—one at Princeton, where the church was broken down by the throng, and whose young pastor has since joined our community: another at Belleville, which has been so beautifully described by the amiable pastor of that place, that I cannot refrain from copying his sketch:—

"At the above-mentioned place, the Rev. Fathers Hecker, Deshon, and Baker opened a mission, Sunday, February 13, which continued during a week, and closed on the evening of the Sunday following. To say that it was most successful, is too cold an expression; and to call it most impressive, beautiful, and triumphant, can give no adequate idea of its enchanting power. During the week of its continuance, the hill that is crowned by the graceful Church of St. Peter, with its tall steeple and gilded cross, marking the first of a series of eminences that rise higher and higher westward from the River Passaic, has almost realized Mount Thabor. The eager people of the country round had been beforehand preparing for the arrival of the missionaries, and no sooner did the good fathers come than the faithful people rose up in haste to meet them. Down they came, the children of old Roscommon and Mayo, from the romantic hills of Caldwell on the west, along the glades and woody slopes of Bloomfield, saluting, as they passed, their newly-built Church of 'Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception.' Onward and upward, too, were hastening from the north and east, through Acquackanouck and Belleville, those who long ago left the Boyne and the Luir, the Liffey and Shannon, to cultivate the valley of the scarcely less beautiful Passaic. A thin, sparkling frost still lay upon the roads; and the crisping sounds of their hurrying feet, 'beautiful with glad tidings,' and their cheerfully ringing voices, far and near, were heard along the banks and over the drawbridge of that beautiful river—beautiful at half-past four in the balmy morning air—quivering under the hovering, waning moon, the deep-blue sky, and the twinkling stars. But the people of the valley have ascended the hill from whence the loud bell of St. Peter's steeple has been awakening the country for miles around with its clear and booming sounds. They meet their brethren from Bloomfield and Caldwell, and pause for a moment before the double flight of steps leading up to the portico of the church. Every window gleams with light. The organ and choir are intoning and singing the Litany of the Blessed Virgin Mary, 'Sancta Virgo Virginum,' Holy Virgin of Virgins, pray for us.' 'I thought I was before the bell,' exclaims a young woman, just come from several miles off, as she flits hastily through the doorway to be in time for Mass. But the priest, in his shining vestments, with his little surpliced attendants, is already at the altar; and, it being five o'clock, the first Mass of the morning has punctually begun. The weather, however, at two or three other intervals of the mission, was not quite so propitious, nor the roads so pleasant; for thaws and occasional rain had softened the latter to a disagreeable extent. But this mattered nothing to the seamless robe of the Faith, which is proof against all weathers; for St. Peter's was thronged morning and evening alike while the mission lasted. Many were the expedients resorted to by poor mothers, for trusty guardians to mind the little ones during their absence at church. In several instances, a mother would charge herself with the children of two or three others; or some kind-hearted Protestant would take this care upon her. But not unfrequently the little ones were deposited in the basement of the church; and it was interesting to see the German mother place her infant in the Irish-woman's arms, while she herself hastened up with the crowd to receive communion at the altar-rail—a crowd of old and young, dotted here and there with the Hollander, the German, the French, and the English or American Catholic. The morning instruction was usually given by Father Hecker, whose appearance and manner' were well calculated to cheer up the people, even to alacrity, under their daily difficulties of faithful attendance, late and early, on the mission-whether he related the anecdote of the old man, who, early in the morning, after most determined efforts to be faithful to the mission, vanquished the temptation of his warm bed, and finally succeeded in reaching the church in the teeth of a snow-storm, with inverted umbrella; or, when urging the duty of virtuous perseverance, he gave his celebrated allegory of the pike of the Mississippi, who, terrified one night by an unusual display of fireworks on its banks, vowed he would swallow no more little fishes, but afterward relapsed into his intemperate proclivities, and became worse than ever. In the evening, Father Deshon ended his most interesting instruction with the recitation of the Rosary, responded to aloud by the whole congregation. This was followed by Father Baker's sermon and the Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament. Besides the overflowing attendance of the faithful, the knowledge of the missionaries themselves being Americans and converts from Protestantism, brought hundreds of Protestants of all classes nightly, many of whom were present at every sermon; and they were as sensibly moved even to tears and audible grief, by the power and holiness of the preacher's eloquence, as the Catholics themselves. But the last night's scene will long be remembered—the renewal of baptismal vows, with uplifted hands, by the entire assemblage, which the strongly-built church somehow or other contrived to accommodate, sitting and standing in the pews, passages, gallery, and sacristy, and close around the sanctuary, to the number of some thirteen or fourteen hundred. The interior of the church was but lately remodelled and decorated, and its pale rose-colored walls and ceiling were charmingly varied by their white ornamental centers and panelled mouldings. The statues of the Blessed Virgin and St. Peter at either side of the sanctuary rested on tasteful pedestals, which supported four lofty Corinthian columns and their pilasters. These pure white, fluted, and tapering columns, with their rich capitals and entablature, the altar, tabernacle, and almost life-size crucifix, the high-raised marble font and its pendent baptismal robe of snowy lace—all these, contrasted with the dark and lofty missionary cross, and the crucifixion winding scarf hung athwart it, became of an almost white and dazzling beauty, amid the innumerable lights, silver and gilded candelabra, and vases of a countless variety of natural flowers. It is a pleasing thought, that much of the plate alluded to was lent for the occasion by kind-hearted Protestants of the neighborhood, in whose estimation this mission has exalted the Catholic Church to a surprising degree. At the same time it may be said, that few or no places in the country are more remarkable than Belleville, N. J., for kind cordiality on the part of the Protestant community toward the Catholic. But the last scene, like a beautiful vision, is now over. The missionaries have given their blessing to the crowd, among whom is a Protestant young lady, who comes also to seek it before the carriage shall have borne them away. One convert was baptized on the morning of their departure. Another will be in a day or two hence. More are in reserve for this sacred rite. Upward of eleven hundred and thirty Catholics have received the Holy Eucharist; many of them old men, and many youths, who, but for the influence of the mission, would not have approached the sacraments for years—perhaps never. Young, wavering Catholics, already more than half lost to the faith, have been reclaimed and fortified. A. rich legacy of Catholic truth has been left to vanquish falsehood and error, which, in Belleville and its neighborhood, must cower for many a day before the memory of the Missionaries of St. Paul the Apostle." [Footnote 7]

On the 20th of March, 1859, a mission was opened in St. Patrick's Church, Quebec, by the special invitation of the Administrator of the diocese. It would be easy to fill pages with reminiscences of this mission, given in a city so replete with interest of every kind, and full of pleasant recollections. The mission was a very large one; as we had seven thousand two hundred and fifty communions, and fifty converts received into the Church. It was peculiarly satisfactory, also, from the circumstance that the church was large enough to contain all the people who desired to get in, though it was densely crowded, and that the most abundant facilities were furnished to all who wished to come to confession—there being nineteen confessors, of whom fifteen were clergymen of the diocese.

The soldiers of the garrison attend this church, where they have on Sundays a special Mass and sermon from their chaplain. The Thirty-ninth Regiment, of Crimean memory, was stationed there at that time, and as many as were able to get leave, as well as a number of Catholic soldiers from the artillery battalion and the Canadian Rifles, attended the mission. Some of these Crimean veterans made their first communion, and others came to confession who had made their last confession before some one of the great battles of the Crimea. One of them, who was unable to get through the crowd after service, arrived after taps at his barracks, for which he was sent by the sergeant to the guard-house, and reported to the colonel the next morning. Colonel Monroe, the same officer who commanded the regiment in the Crimea, tore up the report and released the soldier from custody, saying that it was a shame to punish a man for going to the mission, which had done his regiment more good than any thing else that ever happened in Quebec.

We had several invitations to give missions in the British Provinces, which it was necessary to decline, and, after taking leave of Quebec, where we had received such unbounded kindness and attention, both from the clergy and laity, we gave our last mission for the season in St. Peter's Church, Troy, then under the care of Father Walworth. From Troy we returned to New York, where a small house had been rented for our use, near the site of our new religious house and church.

During the summer of 1859, the work of collecting funds, by public contributions in churches, and private subscriptions, was continued, and the building, which was to serve as a religious house, was erected; a large portion of it being thrown into a commodious and tolerably spacious chapel, which could be used as a temporary parish church for some years, until circumstances would warrant the erection of a permanent church edifice. The corner-stone was laid by the archbishop, on Trinity Sunday, June 19, in presence of an immense concourse of people. On the 24th of November, the Feast of St. John of the Cross, the house was blessed by the superior of the congregation, and taken possession of. The first Mass was said in it on the following day, in one of the rooms arranged as a private chapel. On the first Sunday of Advent, November 27, the chapel was blessed, and Solemn Mass celebrated in it by the Vicar-General of the diocese; and from this time commenced the double labors of both parochial and missionary duty. An accession to our small number of one more priest, Father Tillotson, who had been previously residing in England as a member of the Birmingham Oratory, enabled us to do this—an undertaking which would otherwise have been extremely difficult. Three of our number, of whom F. Baker was generally one, could now be spared for the missions, leaving two in charge of the parish; and by relieving one another occasionally, the labor was somewhat lightened. Within the next two years our number was further increased by the accession of two others—one of whom, F. Walworth, had been for a long time the superior of our missionary band, and now rejoined it, after a short interval, in which he had been fulfilling parochial duty as pastor of St. Peter's Church, Troy. Strengthened by these accessions, we were enabled, while our number remained undiminished by death, and all were blessed with the health and strength necessary to the performance of active labor, to carry on a continuous course of missions during seven years, dating from the time of our separate organization; and at the same time to bestow abundant care and attention on our continually increasing parish. Three of these missions were given in the British Provinces—in the cathedral, of St. John's, N. B., Halifax, and Kingston, Canada, respectively; the remainder chiefly in New England, New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania, with a small number in the Western States. The details already given of previous missions are amply sufficient to give an idea of the missionary life of F. Baker, and it would be wearisome to continue them. These seven years, with the year immediately preceding them, comprise the most laborious and most fruitful portion of his too short priestly life. The number of missions given in this period of seven years was seventy-nine, with an aggregate of one hundred and sixty-six thousand communions, the same number with that of the missions of the preceding seven years. Father Baker assisted at sixty-four of these missions, and at sixteen previously given, making a sum-total of eighty. The number of converts from Protestantism registered is two hundred and sixty-three, and the record is imperfect. Two of these were Protestant clergymen—one the rector of the Episcopal Church in Scranton, Pa.; the other, the principal of the High School in Pittsfield, Mass.

It only remains now to say a few words of the virtues exhibited by F. Baker, in his missionary, sacerdotal, and religious life. Those high and noble virtues are best made known by a simple record in his deeds, and by the utterance which he has himself bequeathed in his own sermons, in which the lofty standard of Christian perfection proposed to others is a simple reflection of what he actually practised in his life.

Father Baker usually passed from seven to eight months of every year in the labors of the missionary life, and in those labors, as a member of a body of hard-working men, he was pre-eminent for the assiduity and perseverance with which he devoted himself to the most arduous and fatiguing occupations of his peculiar state. He usually said Mass at five o'clock, after which he went to the confessional till half-past seven. From nine until one, and from three until half-past six, he was in his confessional, rarely leaving it even for a moment. At half-past seven, on those evenings when he was not to preach, he gave the instruction and recited the prayers which preceded the principal sermon. A considerable part of the remaining time was taken up by reciting his office and other private religious duties, leaving but very little for relaxation, and none whatever for exercise, unless it was snatched at some brief interval, or required by the distance of the church from the pastor's residence. During the first few days of each mission, the confessionals were not opened, and the preacher of the evening sermon was always freed from its labors in the afternoon. Frequently, however, those first days were devoted to a special mission given to the children of the congregation; and F. Baker was always prompt and ready to fulfil this duty, which he did in the most admirable manner, adapting himself with a charming and winning grace and simplicity to the tender age and understanding of the little ones, and reciting with them beautiful forms of meditation and prayer, composed by himself, during the whole time of the Mass at which they received communion. The hardest part of the work of the mission, after the confessions began, was continued during from five to eleven successive days, according to the size of the congregation, and requiring from ten to twelve hours of constant mental application each day. Besides this necessary and ordinary work, performed with the most patient and unflagging assiduity, F. Baker often employed all the remaining intervals of time—not taken up by meals and sleep—in instructing adult Catholics who had never been prepared for the sacraments, and in instructing and receiving converts. Wherever there was any work of charity to be done, he undertook it quietly, promptly, and cheerfully, always ready to spare others, and willing to relieve them by assuming their duties when they were exhausted or unwell, seldom asking to be relieved himself. It was never necessary to remind F. Baker of his duty, much less to give him any positive command. During a long course of missions, in which I was superior, with F. Baker as my constant companion and my associate in preaching the mission sermons, and one other long-tried companion as the preacher of the catechetical instructions, I remember, with peculiar satisfaction, how perfect was the harmony with which we co-operated with one another, without the least necessity of any exercise of authority, or any disagreement of moment.

To understand fully how arduous was the work which F. Baker performed, it must be considered that not only was his mind and his whole moral nature taxed to the utmost by the continued effort necessary in order to fulfil his duty as a preacher and confessor, but that it was done under circumstances most unfavorable to health, shut up in crowded, ill-ventilated rooms, pressed upon by impatient throngs, forced to strain the vocal organs to the utmost in large churches crowded with dense masses of people, and often obliged to pass suddenly from an overheated and stifling atmosphere into an intensely cold or damp air, and always obliged to work, for several hours in the morning, fasting. Such a life is a very severe strain upon one who has only the ordinary American constitution, especially if his temperament is delicate and unaccustomed to hardship in early life. The amount of work which F. Baker performed was not equal to that which many European missionaries are able to endure, especially those who have an unusually robust constitution. But it was greater than that which St. Alphonsus himself required of the missionaries who were under his own personal direction. The average duration of a career of continuous missionary labor in Europe is only ten years, and it is therefore not surprising that F. Baker was able to continue such constant and arduous exertions, with the other duties which devolved on him during the intervals of missions, for no longer a period than eight years.

At least as far back as the year 1861, he began to suffer from a malady of the throat, and to find the effort of preaching painful. Nevertheless, he continued to perform his full share of this duty until within a year before his death. Occasionally it would be necessary to relieve him of some of his sermons; and on the last mission which we gave together, which was in St. James's Church, Salem, Massachusetts, he asked to be relieved altogether both from the sermons and the short instructions which precede them. This mission was given during the month of January, 1865. F. Baker assisted at two other missions after this, one at Archbald, in Pennsylvania, and the other at Birmingham, Connecticut, at each of which he preached four sermons. His last mission sermon was preached, February 18, 1865, six weeks before his death; which occurred on the last day of the next mission but one, given at Clifton, Staten Island—twelve years from the time of his receiving his first communion at the mission in the Cathedral of Baltimore.

In the discharge of the duties allotted to him in the parish, F. Baker labored with the same zeal and assiduity as he did in the missions. He was particularly charged with the care of the altar and the divine service in the church, for which his thoroughly sacerdotal spirit, his exquisite taste, and his complete acquaintance with the rubrics and the details of ecclesiastical rites and ceremonies, gave him a special fitness. He took unwearied pains and care in providing vestments and ornaments, preserving the sanctuary and all appertaining to it in order and neatness, decorating the church for great festivals, training up the boys, who served at the altar, and directing the manner of performing the divine offices. This minute and exact attention to the beauty and propriety of the sacred ceremonies of the Church, sprang from a deep, inward principle of devotion and love to our Lord present in the Blessed Sacrament, to His Blessed Mother, to the saints, and to the mysteries of the Christian Faith, symbolized by the outward forms of religion. In the performance of his sacerdotal functions, he was a model of dignity, grace, and piety. He loved his duties, and was completely absorbed in his priestly office. The august Sacrifice and Sacrament of the Altar was his life and joy; and there he derived those graces and virtues which produced their choice and precious fruits in his character and conduct.

As a preacher of the Divine Word, he excelled equally. His parochial sermons were even superior to those which he preached on the mission. He could prepare himself more quietly; the exertion was not so tasking to his physical strength, and suited better the tone of his mind, which made it more pleasing and easy for him to fulfil these ordinary pastoral ministrations than to address great crowds of people, on occasions requiring a more vehement style of oratory. His published sermons will enable the reader to judge of his merit as a preacher, although their effect was greatly increased by the impression produced by his personal appearance and attitude, and the charm of his voice and intonations. One striking feature of his sermons was the abundance and felicity of his quotations from Holy Scripture. Frequent reading and meditation of the inspired books had saturated his mind with their influence, and the apposite texts which were suitable for his theme appeared to flow from his lips without an effort. Another characteristic of his preaching was, that it appealed almost exclusively to the reason, and through the reason to the will and conscience. His continual aim was to inculcate conscientiousness, obedience to the law of God, the fulfilment of the great duties of life, and a faithful correspondence to the divine grace. He never lost sight of this great end in his missionary or parochial sermons, but always directed his aim to bring sinners to a renunciation of sin, and a fixed purpose of living always in the grace of God, and to bring good Christians to a high standard of practical perfection and solid virtue. For deep speculations in theology and oratorical display, he had not the slightest inclination. He never desired to preach on unusual occasions or topics, but, on the contrary, had an unconquerable repugnance to appear in the pulpit, except where the sole object was to preach the gospel with apostolic simplicity, for the single end of the edification of the people. He was not at all conscious of his own superiority as a preacher, and never gave his sermons for publication without reluctance, or from any other motive than deference to the judgment of his superior and his brethren. He loved and sought the shade from a true and profound humility, without the slightest desire for applause or reputation. His manner was earnest and grave; at times, when the subject and occasion required it, even vehement; but equable and sustained throughout his discourse, without rising to any sudden or powerful outbursts of eloquence. On ordinary occasions it had a calm and persuasive force; enlivened with a certain pure and lofty poetic sentiment, which blended with the prevailing argumentative strain of his thought, pleasing the imagination just enough to facilitate the access of the truth he was teaching to the reason and conscience, without weakening its power, or distracting the mind from the main point. He never produced those startling effects upon his audience which are sometimes witnessed during a mission, by an appeal to their feelings; but he invariably made a profound impression, which manifested itself in the deep and fixed attention with which he held them chained and captivated from the first to the last word he uttered. His eloquence was like the still, strong current of a deep and placid river, sometimes swollen in volume and force, and sometimes subsiding to a more tranquil and gentle flow; but never deviating from a straight course, and seldom rushing with the violence of a torrent.

In his more intimate and personal relations with his penitents, with the sick and afflicted whom he visited, or who came to him for counsel, and with others who sought instruction, advice, or sympathy from him as a priestly director, F. Baker was a faithful copy of the charity and suavity of his special patron—St. Francis de Sales. Pure and holy as he was himself, he was compassionate and indulgent to the most frail and sinful souls; and, without ever relaxing the uncompromising strictness of Christian principle, or mitigating his severe denunciations of sin, he was free from all rigorism toward the penitent who sought to rise from his sins by his aid. This benignity and charity attracted to him a great number of persons who were in peculiar difficulties and troubles, some of whom had never had courage to go to any one else. He spared no pains and trouble to help them, and his patience was inexhaustible. With the sick and dying he took unusual pains, visiting them frequently, and often aiding them to receive the sacraments devoutly by reciting prayers with them from some appropriate book of devotion. He reconciled a number to the Church who had been drawn away from their religion, and was particularly successful in bringing to the fold of Christ those who were without. The tokens of affection, gratitude, and sorrow which were given by great numbers at his death, were proofs how much he had endeared himself to all with whom he came in contact, and how irreparable they felt his loss to be.

Of F. Baker's religious character it would be difficult to say much, in addition to the portraiture of him which has been given in the foregoing sketch of his life. It presented no salient or striking points to be seized on and particularly described. Its great beauty consisted in its quiet, equable constancy and harmony. He had that evenly balanced temperament ascribed to St. Charles Borromeo by his biographers, and regarded as the most favorable to virtue. He had no favorite books of devotion, no special practices of piety or austerity, no inclination for the study of the higher mystic theology, no unusual difficulties or temptations, no deep mental struggles, no scruples, no marked periods of spiritual crisis and change after his conversion to the Catholic Church—nothing extraordinary, except an extraordinary fidelity and constancy in ordinary duties and exercises, and extraordinary conscientiousness and purity of life. He was detached from the world, and from every selfish passion; reserved to a remarkable degree, without the faintest tinge of melancholy or moroseness; collected within himself and in God at all times; serene and tranquil of spirit; simple, abstemious, and exact in his habits; with his whole heart in his convent, his cell, his duties, and his religious exercises.

The character of F. Baker was very much developed during the later years of his life. That passive, quiescent disposition which characterized him in his earlier career, gave place to greater decision and energy. He acquired by action a more self-poised and determined judgment, greater self-reliance, and a more marked individuality. He was no longer swayed and led by the opinions of others, except so far as duty required him to obey, or his own reason was convinced. The almost feminine delicacy and refinement which he had in youth was hardened into a robust and manly vigor, as it is with a softly-nurtured young soldier after a long campaign. He exhibited also a gayety of temper, a liveliness in conversation, and often a rich and exuberant humor and playfulness, especially in depicting the variety of strange and amusing characters and scenes with which he came in contact by mixing with all classes of men, which had remained completely latent in his earlier character, before it was warmed and expanded by the genial influence of the Catholic religion. No one could have been a more delightful companion on the mission, during the intervals of rest and relaxation, than he was; and he entered into the enjoyment of the occasional recreations thrown in his way in traveling with the zest of a schoolboy on a holiday. For company he had no taste, and he could not be induced to undertake any jaunt or excursion for mere pleasure. During the summer months he would never go into the country, even for the sake of recruiting his health, but remained during the hottest months at home, where he found the truest happiness, pursuing the even tenor of his ordinary occupations. A beautiful character! A rare specimen of the most perfect human nature, elevated and sanctified by divine grace, and clothed with a bodily form which was the exact expression of the inhabiting soul! To describe it is impossible. Those who knew it by personal acquaintance will say, without exception, that the attempt I have made is completely inadequate, and, like an unsuccessful portrait, reproduces but a dim and indistinct image of the original. I do not mean to say that F. Baker was a perfectly faultless character, or that he was without sin. Of those faults, however, which are apparent to human eyes in the exterior conduct, he had but few, and those slight and venial.

Nothing now remains but to describe the closing scene of F. Baker's life. I have already mentioned that his constitution had shown symptoms of giving way under the fatigues of his missionary labors. Nevertheless, he still continued in the constant and active discharge of his priestly duties, and no solicitude in regard to his health was felt by any of his brethren, with whom these periods of physical infirmity wore an ordinary occurrence. On one Sunday, a few weeks before his death, his strength failed him while he was singing High Mass, and he was obliged to continue it in a low voice. He was also unable to continue the abstinence of Lent, and was obliged to ask for a dispensation, which I believe never occurred with him before. His appearance was pale and languid, and the fulfilment of his duties evidently cost him an effort. We had been accustomed to sing together two of the three parts of the Passion on Palm Sunday, ever since the church had been opened; but, in making arrangements for the services of the Holy Week for this year, he remarked that we would be obliged to omit singing the Passion as usual. He had marked himself, however, on the schedule of offices which was posted up in the library, to preach both on Passion Sunday and Palm Sunday. His last Sunday sermon was preached on the Second Sunday of Lent, March 12. The subject was "Heaven." The Wednesday evening following, he volunteered to preach in the place of one of his brethren who was unwell, about an hour before the service commenced, and left the supper-table to prepare himself. He took for the emergency the sermon which he had first preached as a missionary, on "The Necessity of Salvation;" and this was the last regular discourse which he delivered. On the following Sunday, after Vespers, he gave a short conference to the Rosary Society; and after this his voice was never heard again in exhortation or instruction. About this time, there were several cases of typhus fever in the parish, and F. Baker had in some way imbibed the poison, to which his delicate state of health rendered him peculiarly susceptible. On the Fourth Sunday of Lent, March 26, the first symptoms of illness showed themselves. On the preceding evening he heard confessions as usual, until about nine o'clock, after which he came to the room of one of the fathers and made his own confession, as he did habitually every week. The next morning he said Mass for the last time, at half-past eight, for the children of the Sunday-school. As I passed his door at half-past ten, to go down to High Mass, he met me in the corridor, and remarked that he felt too sick to go down to the sanctuary. From this time he came no more again to the table or the recreation of the community, but kept his room. Nothing was thought of his indisposition, and it was by accident that his physician, who dined that day with the community, saw him and prescribed for him in the afternoon. The next day three of the fathers left the house for a mission, and bade him good-by as usual, without a thought of anxiety on either side. F. Baker remained on Sunday and Monday in the same state, dressing himself every morning, and sitting up at intervals, but usually lying on the bed, and occupying himself about some matters of business. He wrote several notes, and dictated others, some concerning the articles he had ordered for the sanctuary, and others concerning some sick persons or penitents for whom he had a special care. During this time, no symptoms of typhus had appeared, but his complaint appeared to be a slight attack of pneumonia. On Monday evening he went down by himself to the bath-room and took a hot bath, after which he kept his bed entirely. The superior of the house, who was engaged in the mission on Staten Island, came every day to visit him, and had already detected an incipient tendency to delirium, which awakened in his mind an anxiety, which, however, was not shared by anyone else. On Wednesday, however, although he retained control over his faculties, his brain began evidently to show a state of morbid excitability. He remarked that the bells of the house had a strange sound, and fancied that his breathing and pulsations were all set to a regular rhythmical measure, and gave out musical sounds. When he was alone and his eyes shut, he said that a brilliant array of figures continually passed before him, and that he seemed to be hurried away by a rapid motion like that of a railway carriage. During that evening he was more decidedly wandering in his mind, although he became quiet, and slept nearly all night. On Thursday morning the poison of typhus had filled his brain completely, and he lay in a dull, stupid state, unconscious of what was said to him, and incapable of uttering a rational word. This gave place after a time to a more violent form of delirium, during which he talked incessantly in an incoherent manner, and could with difficulty be kept in a quiet position or induced to swallow any nourishment or medicine. On Friday morning the danger of a fatal termination was evident, as the disease continued to progress, and the symptoms of pneumonia were also aggravated. The superior of the house was sent for, and came over in the afternoon. Dr. Van Buren and Dr. Clarke, two of the most eminent physicians in town, were called in for consultation by Dr. Hewit, the attending physician, and information of F. Baker's illness was sent to his sister, who came immediately from Baltimore to see him. On Saturday evening the typhus fever had spent its violence, reason returned, and from this time F. Baker remained in a weak but tranquil state until his departure. He had been removed from his own room to the library, a large and airy apartment, where every thing about him was arranged in a neat, orderly, and cheerful manner, and he was attended and carefully watched night and day by his physician, his brethren, and his nurse. The violence of his fever had prostrated his strength so completely, that he was unable to resist the severe attack of pneumonia which accompanied it, and which medical skill and care were unable to subdue. The feeble vital force which still remained gradually subsided during the next three days, under the progress of this disease, although his friends continued to hope against all appearances for his recovery, and seemed almost to take it for granted that God would surely hear their prayers and spare his life. During all this time he was rational and collected, recognising all his friends, but unable to speak more than a few brief sentences that were connected and intelligible. He desired his sister to remain with him, and she did so during a great portion of the time. He expressed his perfect willingness and readiness to die, and made an effort to repeat audibly some prayers, but without success. He manifested his desire for absolution by signs, and it was given to him, together with the Sacrament of Extreme Unction, on Sunday. On Tuesday, the Holy Viaticum, for which he had asked, was given him, at about half-past ten in the morning. He received it with perfect consciousness, and remained quiet, free from pain, and without becoming perceptibly worse, until one. After the fathers had gone down to dinner, he asked his nurse for his cap, which was brought to him and placed in his hand. He then asked for his habit, and said he would dress and go down to dinner with the community. Soon after, a change was observed in him by the watchful eye of the father who had been his bosom friend during their common missionary career, and who had passed so many hours of the day and night by his bedside during his sickness with more than the devotion of a brother; and several of his particular friends were sent for, that they might see him once more before he died. The two fathers who were at home, his physician, his only and beloved sister, a lady who had been his chief aid in the care of the sanctuary, and another, who was one of his converts, surrounded his bedside, where he lay, the picture of placid repose and holy calm, quietly, gently, and imperceptibly breathing his last, until four o'clock, when his spirit passed away to God, without a struggle or a sign of agony, leaving his countenance unruffled, and his form as composed as a statue. Those who saw him after death have said that, about an hour after his departure, his appearance was most beautiful, as he lay just dressed in his sacerdotal vestments, his majestic and finely chiselled brow and features as yet untouched by the finger of decay. The vestments in which F. Baker was dressed had been prepared by himself only three weeks before, that they might be ready in case of the death of one of the community. His body was placed in a metallic case, enclosed in a rosewood coffin, and laid in state in the church. These arrangements were not completed until late in the night, and the people did not therefore begin to visit the sacred remains until the next morning; from which time until the sepulture, crowds of the faithful were coming to the church during every hour, both of the day and the night. Requiem Masses were said by all the priests in the house on Wednesday and Thursday. The mission at Staten Island closed on Tuesday evening. The fathers who were there were not made acquainted with the extreme danger of F. Baker, and the intelligence of his death was not sent to them until Wednesday morning, when their labors were all completed. They returned home to find the body of their late companion lying in the church, and the household and parish overwhelmed with sorrow. Usually, in a religious community, the death of a member is taken very much as the loss of a soldier is regarded by his comrades, schooled as they are to control their feelings, and to be ready at any moment to expose their lives in the discharge of their duty. But in a small band like ours, which had been through so many trials and vicissitudes in company, and where all the members had been continually in the most constant and intimate association with each other, it was impossible not to feel in the deepest and keenest manner the loss of one of our number, the first one called away during the fourteen years of a missionary life. To an infant congregation like ours, the loss of a priest like F. Baker was truly irreparable. Besides this, each one felt that his loss as a friend and brother was a personal grief equal to that of losing his nearest and dearest relative by the tie of blood. This sorrow was shared by the whole parish, by all his friends, and by the faithful everywhere in the parishes where he had preached and labored. Many letters of sympathy and condolence were sent from all quarters, and not Catholics only, but numbers of others also, who had respected the virtues of the holy Catholic priest, testified their regret at his death, and their sympathy with our loss. The Rev. Dr. Osgood, a distinguished Unitarian clergyman of New York, sent a small painting representing a bouquet of various kinds of lilies, as a memorial of respect, in the name of his congregation, accompanied by a very kind note. Several other Protestant clergymen were present at the funeral services; and, indeed, the manifestations of respect for F. Baker's memory were universal.