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THE FEMALES' ADVOCATE.

THE DUTY OF THOSE WHO HAVE FOUND CHRIST.

"He first findeth his own brother Simon, and saith unto him, we have found the Messias, which is being interpreted, the Christ; and he brought him to Jesus." It is not perhaps in the power of language to convey a more touching picture of fraternal love, than that which these few affecting words present. They go, with irresistible force to the heart, and, at a glance, convey some faint impression of the value which the rejoicing disciple attached to the blessing he himself had found, and of the yearnings of impatient affection, which could not rest till he had made the chosen brother of his heart partaker of the stupendous gift.

At Jesus's invitation he had come and seen where this divine Redeemer dwelt; he abode with him that day, and fed upon his heavenly words of wisdom and of life; then, full of the energy of love which such a feast imparted, his heart expanded towards the world around him; but, first, sought out the beloved associate of his infant days and early home, "his own brother Simon." There were his strongest symVOL. III.

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pathies attracted; and holy spiritual affection, uniting with the tender influences of fraternal love, urge forth the rapturous exclamation, we have found the Messias," the long expected Saviour! Was his hope chilled? and did the tide of animated joy ebb backward to his heart, as he beheld the cold reluctance, or the contemptuous incredulity with which the blissful tidings were received? No-it was a bond of holy love which bound these hearts together; and, with willing steps, both turned again to him who would receive them gladly. Nor was the returning guest less favorably welcomed than when he first approached his Lord. Approvingly does the divine favor rest on those whose pure delight is found in making others blest. "He that winneth souls is wise;" and, whilst it is written that "they that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament," it is added, and they that turn many to righteousness shall be " Was the stars for ever and ever." Oh! if the love of Christ be dear to us, if on us the true light hath brightly shined, and given us the knowledge of the excellency of Christ Jesus the Lord," let not the precious treasure be in silent selfishness, alone enshrined within; but let the endearing ties of natural affection be sanctified and blest by a participation in the heavenly gift. Let the reviving truth spread widely, "we have found the Messias ;"-but, in the endearing privacy of the domestic circle, let the heart's sacred joy at first expand; and, whilst some faithful, fond, responding

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spirit catches from us the enlivening flame, be ours the ministry which the angelic hosts themselves rejoice in, and of which it may approvingly be recorded, "she brought him to Jesus."

L. H.

TAKING THE VEIL.

THE nun who was to make what is called her profession, or, in other words, to assume the black veil, the symbol of perpetual, seclusion, was about thirty years of age, and was called la sœur Marie. Emily had often seen her among the novices, though she had never spoken to her; but who the other intended nun was, no one but the supérieure seemed to know. Great preparations were making for the exhibition; the nuns were all busily employed, some about the chapel, some about the altar, and sister Marie herself underwent a long course of fastings, prayers, and mortifications, some self-inflicted, others prescribed by the confessor, by way of preparation for the approaching event. The chapel was tastefully ornamented with flowers, wax tapers, and every thing costly that the community could command. The altar was decorated with several beautiful specimens of gold and silver embroidery, and Sophie's time was much taken up with practising on the organ a splendid piece of music, in which she was to be accompanied by the voices of the whole sisterhood.

Great curiosity was excited, by the uncertainty that prevailed, with regard to the person who was to perform the other part in this melancholy drama;

but the supérieure was not communicative, and the whole affair remained involved in mystery. On the evening preceding the ceremony, however, a travelling carriage stopped at the convent-gate, and a young lady was handed out by an elderly gentleman, who, after taking a formal leave of her, re-entered the vehicle, and immediately departed. The stranger was conducted to a room which had been prepared for her, and was not seen again that evening by any but the supérieure, who had a very long interview with her. Nothing was known concerning her, except that she came from Tours, was unaccompanied by a single relative or friend, and a total stranger in the place which was now to be her residence for life. Even her face had not been seen, for it was shrouded in a long mourning veil.

Early on the ensuing morning the whole convent was in a bustle. The two future nuns were at the confessional by break of day, and after a long interview with the priest, again retired to their rooms. The stranger was then attended by the nuns appointed to dress her for the occasion, and the sisters who took charge of the school were also employed in attiring the boarders, that they might form a pleasing group in the pageant.

Emily repaired to the chapel about eight o'clock, and was soon after joined by Major and Mrs. Fortescue, with whom she remained in conversation for some time, during which time the chapel gradually filled with English gentlemen and ladies, whom curiosity had drawn to witness the ceremony. There were a few French persons behind, but they were generally of the lowest class of society. Emily and Mrs. Fortescue stationed themselves near the railings in front of the altar, and awaited the en

trance of the procession with feelings of lively interest.

At last, some of those children known by the name of enfants du chœur, appeared from the inner room, and began to strew the space around the altar with rose-leaves, from baskets which were suspended round their necks by rose-coloured ribbons. They were dressed in a kind of white surplice, with a girdle of ribbon.

They were followed by several priests, with their acolytes, who ranged themselves round the altar; after which, the door of the ante-chœur, or nun's inner chapel, was opened, and the voices of the sisterhood were heard, chaunting a hymn, as they slowly entered in procession. They had lighted tapers in their hands, and, with their peculiar dress, and long flowing veils, presented a striking coup d' ail, the effect of which was not a little heightened by the music. The novices came behind, and after them the boarders. Every nun bent the knee for a moment, on the lower step of the altar, and they then seated themselves round it. The two candidates for the veil were then brought forward, and placed in the midst, exactly in front of the altar. Every eye was instantly fixed upon them. Sister Marie, however, attracted but little attention; her look was calm, her demeanour composed, and it was evident that the step she was about to take was the result of deliberate choice.

But not so the young stranger who was on the point of becoming a novice. She had, from the first excited much curiosity, and that feeling was now converted into one of painful interest. She was an elegant young woman of two-and-twenty, and attired as a bride, in a white muslin dress, a cap

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