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On June 21st, 1866, Sister Angela of the Presentation Mary Josephine Dyer, made her profession.

About this time Rev. J. Early, S. J., was again appointed Extraordinary Confessor of the Monastery. On November 21st, Sister Ignatius, of the Greater Glory of God (Amelia K. Bauduy), was elected Prioress.

In October, 1867, the Golden Jubilee of three of the Sisters was celebrated. These three aged religious who had borne the heat of the day in the service of their Divine Master, were Mother Teresa of Jesus, Juliana Sewall, Sister Ambrosia of the Heart of Mary, Catherine Jamison, and Sister Stanislaus of the Infant Jesus, Mary Smith. The three were not only related to each other by the ties of religion, but also by blood: Sisters Ambrosia and Stanislaus were first cousins, but were more like sisters, as they had been brought up together. They were baptised on the same day, made their first confession and communion at the same time, entered Religion and were professed together, and lived to celebrate their jubilee together.

On the day appointed for the ceremony, Thursday, October 28th, Archbishop Spalding, accompanied by Rt. Rev. R. Whelan, Bishop of Wheeling, and a number of priests, entered the enclosure and crowned the three Sisters. Amongst the clergymen present on the occasion were Rev. Fathers A. S. Elder, H. Myers, J. M. Lancaster, of Louisville, Kentucky, J. Early, S. J., W. H. Clarke, S. J., J. Wirth, C. SS. R., L.

The ceremony opened with a procession, during which the nuns chanted one of the psalms. The recreation room had been tastefully decorated with evergreens, flowers and lights, and at one end, on an elevated platform, three arches had been erected over three seats, to which the Mother Prioress conducted the Sisters who were celebrating their jubilee. The Archbishop then placed beautiful crowns of white flowers on their heads, gave to each a lighted candle and a staff crowned with lilies, and addressed to them an explanation of the ceremony. At the termination of the Archbishop's remarks, the nuns sang three hymns composed for the occasion, at the conclusion of each of which, the Mother Prioress presented a copy of it to the Sister in whose honor it had been written¹

In congratulating the Sisters on their great happiness, the Archbishop alluded to the austerity of Carmel. “We in the world,” he said, “take such great care of our health, that we kill ourselves with our care, whilst these good sisters who forget themselves and practice much penance, live to a great age.” He then turned to Bishop Whelan, saying, that as he was a very spiritual man, it was proper for him to deliver a discourse to the Sisters. The Bishop accepted the invitation, and, taking his text from the inscription on one of the scrolls used in the decoration of the room: “What shall I render to the Lord ? etc.,” spoke on religious vocation and its great privileges. He also alluded to the vast change that had taken place in the condition of the Church in the United States during the fifty years that the three Sisters had been members of the Carmelite Community. The solemnity was terminated by the chanting of the Te Deum.

Sister Baptist was a holy and upright soul, and seemed to have no other end in view save the glory of God. Her generous nature, to the impulse of which she showed herself obedient, prompted her to give herself with great earnestness to the service of God. She was animated by the spirit of prayer and was far advanced in the interior life, and was to all a model of silence and recollection. She was also conspicuous by her love for mortification and penance, and by her spirit of poverty. These virtues were crowned by the queen of virtues, charity, which shone forth in her constant striving to render service to her Sisters.

Her death was so sudden that she could not receive the Last Sacraments; she had, however, been to Holy Communion on the previous day. Before retiring to rest she had prepared the vestments for the celebration of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass on the following morning, but instead of assisting at it, and receiving Holy Communion, as she had expected, her corpse lay before the altar at that hour, and the Holy Mass was offered for the repose of her soul.

of their profession-day, was still fresh in the memory of the little Carmelite community, and its three venerable members were still alive. But it was time for one of them to rest from her labors. However dear a friend may be to us, the day of parting must finally arrive. When sickness or old age has entered into the life of that friend, with anguish of heart we behold the end approaching; whilst, at the same time, we try to make ourselves believe that death is farther off, for we love not to dwell on thoughts of sorrow. But finally, and ofttimes suddenly, the last scene is enacted, the curtain falls, and all is over. The Carmelites had possessed their three aged Sisters for more than half a century; but there is a limit to life, and they were soon to be summoned from time to eternity. The first one to hear the call of the heavenly Bridegroom was Sister Ambrosia of the Heart of Mary.

From her entrance into the convent, she had given herself generously to the religious life, although she felt its austerities most keenly. In winter the Sisters were often obliged to break the ice in the morning in the wash-room, and once she was overheard saying: “O my God, you know that only for you could I endure this.” The cross of sickness was laid upon her early in her religious life, nor was she, until her death, ever without physical suffering. This rendered her very compassionate towards the sick, and during the many years she held the office of infirmarian, she was noted for her tenderness and charity. This spirit of compassion towards the sick is one of the most precious pearls in a religious community, and ought to be treasured by all, but particularly by the Superior, as the apple of her eye, whilst the neglect of it may render her very guilty before God. It is not enough merely to limit one's self to strict duty, for the sick require pity and compassion; they need sympathy even more than medicine.

thought had symptoms of cancer, she said: “Think of all the sufferings you will have to endure, and offer them up beforehand for all those to whom our Lord wishes them to be applied. In the hour of suffering it is difficult to think of this offerings and many opportunities of glorifying God and gaining merit may be lost.” She used to say: “It is not sickness that makes the cross, but the pains and trials that come in consequence of it. And yet all these must be borne with patience and resignation for the love of God.” Her spirit of prayer and recollection was very great, and everything seemed to raise her heart to God, the Source of all good. If she beheld anything beautiful, it at once reminded her of the infinite Beauty of God. Verses of the Psalms and texts of Sacred Scripture were frequently on her lips. On meeting the novices, she would often repeat these words of the Apocalypse: “Hold fast that which thou hast, that no man take thy crown” (III. 11), or something similar that she thought suitable for them. But this would be said in such a sweet and gracious manner, that whilst it edified them, it always consoled and dilated their hearts.

This good Sister was also animated by a great zeal for the house of God, and everything appertaining to the divine worship. For several years she held the office of sub-prioress, whose principal duty it is to attend to the recitation of the Divine Office, and to see that all religious functions are performed with proper decorum and reverence. She was most faithful in the discharge of these duties, and by her religious gravity and recollected manner impressed all with a sense of the presence of God, and with a great esteem and love for the duties of the choir. As mistress of novices she was full of zeal and charity for the young souls entrusted to her care, and trained them admirably in the true spirit of their vocation. She always retained a special love for the novices, even after she had grown old and infirm, and unable to perform any regular duties. She always had a kind and encouraging word for them, and would seek opportunities to afford them some

The solitude prescribed by the rule was a great source of happiness to her. She had a holy horror of the spirit of the world, and feared lest it might make its way into the cloister; hence her visits to the parlor were always few and short, even when there was question of those who were near and dear to her. This, however, did not prevent her from being kind and affable to all whom she met, so that none were offended, but on the contrary rather impressed and edified by her religious reserve.

She possessed a joyous and cheerful disposition, and her ready wit and humor often enlivened the community. The following anecdote is an instance of this. The winter of 1856 was an exceptionally severe one, and the Sisters suffered greatly, as they had no fire except the little foot-stoves or pans of coals kept in their cells. During the month of February the feasts of many Carmelite saints occur, and as Sister Ambrosia, whose duty it was to announce each morning to the community the office for the following day, read these saints out day after day, she, one morning, in her droll way exclaimed: “Another Saint of our Order! I think they must have all died of cold!” This called forth a burst of laughter from the Sisters, and cheered them in their suffering. In her frequent and severe illness Sister Ambrosia was attended by the faithful friend and physician of the Carmelites, Dr. Ferdinand Chatard, who had a great esteem for her. She had often been at the point of death, and had unexpectedly recovered. Alluding to this, on one occasion, she greatly amused the doctor by accounting for the proverbial longevity of the Carmelites, in the following way: “I think, doctor,” she said, “that a Carmelite's soul gets crosswise in her body, and finds it difficult to get out.” The doctor never forgot this jocose remark and frequently repeated it to others.

attached, to pray at her bedside, and every evening they would gather around her and recite the rosary. About two months before her death her tongue became paralyzed, so that she could no longer speak intelligibly; but she retained consciousness to the last, and gave great edification to the community by her patience and resignation to the holy will of God.

Finally the supreme and inevitable moment arrived. She had the happiness of receiving the last rites of Holy Mother Church, and on September 18th, 1869, her long life of suffering was terminated by a happy death. She was sixty-nine years and seven months old, and was in the 52nd year of her religious life.

Sister Stanislaus had, through life, been remarkable for her sweet and gentle disposition, her quiet unobtrusive manners and her kind and thoughtful charity. She was sometimes called by Bishop Fenwick, “the little mouse.” In allusion to this name he once wrote for her in verse an allegorical history of a mouse, to which a spiritual meaning was attached.

Early in her religious life she had the misfortune to break one of her ribs in the performance of an act of charity. One of the Sisters was throwing out the snow that had drifted into the house, and Sister Stanny, as she was generally called, in

her eager efforts to assist her, lost her balance and fell in such a way as to break one of her ribs. She felt pain, but said so little about it that the accident was not considered serious. Consequently she received no special treatment, and it was only in after years that the extent of the injury was discovered.

Sister Stanislaus had a tender, delicate conscience, and such a lowly opinion of herself, that she often needed the encouragement of her spiritual directors. One of these, Rev. Father J. A. Coombs, S. J., wrote to her in the year 1829: “As you are so fond of being called child, and consequently of having a father, I have sent you a few lines addressed to 'Our Father in heaven:'”

Sister Stanislaus was gifted with an affectionate heart, that prompted her to love her Sisters tenderly and try to render all happy. She was always deeply interested in the spiritual and temporal welfare of the community. She had a great respect and love for the ancient traditions of the Order and the community, and did all in her power to preserve the

She taught in the school during twenty years, and by her gentle and kindly spirit completely won the hearts of her young pupils, so that she was enabled to exercise over them a great influence for good. She inculcated the spirit of union and charity amongst them, and was wont to tell them, that in after years they would gladly recall their early association at Mount Carmel.

The community is accustomed daily to invoke the intercession of St. Barbara, in order to be protected against fire. It happened, during the month of May, that the children belonging to the class of Sister Stanislaus had performed their devotions to Our Lady at the little altar in the schoolroom; the lights had been extinguished, the room closed and all had gone away, leaving everything apparently in good order. The next morning, when the room was opened, marks of fire were discovered; the muslin curtain that had hung at the window was entirely consumed, the broom that had stood near it was burned to the handle, but the fire had gone out of itself, without causing any further damage. The Sisters attributed this to the intercession of St. Barbara, to whom they had a great devotion. The cause of the fire was supposed to have been a spark from one of the candles.

Sister Stanislaus was noted for her extreme fidelity, not only to the smallest detail of the rule and constitutions, but also to all her little private devotions, which she never omitted. This fidelity must have required great courage and the practise of constant mortification, considering that she labored under several infirmities that caused her great suffering.

On three different occasions she had fallen and broken the knee-cap, so that she was quite lame and walked with difficulty; yet far from seeking dispensations on this account, she faithfully fulfilled the office of Sub-prioress, which she held for many years, and that of keeper of the clothing. The

clothing-room was situated in the garret, and consequently she was much fatigued in going up and down the stairs; but notwithstanding this, she was always ready and eager to oblige, and the Sisters who needed her were always sure, at whatever time of the day they applied to her, to be met with an affectionate smile.

Many little incidents are related of the unexpected and opportune manner, in which she would come to the relief of her Sisters. One is worthy of note. A sister having gone late one night to the infirmary, which was separated from the main building, the one in charge, supposing that all the religious were in their cells, locked the door and retired. What was the dismay of the poor Sister when, having accomplished her errand, and wishing to return to her cell, she found the door fastened. Frightened at the thought of having to pass the night outside and alone, she knelt down to ask the assistance of Our Blessed Lady, when suddenly she heard someone approaching. The door was unlocked and Sister Stanislaus stood before her. Why she had come, she could not tell, except that she had felt a strong impulse to do so, and had fortunately followed the inspiration.

Her death was caused by pneumonia, which she had contracted while attending to some of the duties of her office. Although her sickness was short, yet she received the Last Sacraments in full consciousness, and died a most edifying death, leaving her memory in benediction, and the community perfumed by the sweet odor of her virtues.

tery in gloom. The health of Archbishop Spalding had, for some time, been greatly impaired. Towards the end of 1871, on his return from New York, whither he had gone to attend a meeting of bishops, he caught a cold, which developed into acute bronchitis. After suffering extreme pains for six weeks, he calmly expired on February 7th, 1872.¹ “His works and his services,” says Clarke in his Lives of the Bishops, “ are destined to fill some of the brightest and most honorable pages of the history of the Catholic Church in the United States.”