will be sifted, and terms of reproach, perverse interpretation of words, and the like, be gleaned to grace the pages.

In 1864 the secretary reported 176 works read in the first period, 622 in the second, 351 in the third, making 1149, with 360 more on hand.

That there are any Catholic collaborators we do not know; but unless the Catholic part is made a special study the result will in that respect be a failure. The only plan seems to be for Catholics themselves to organize a similar work confined to the terms specially in use among us, and to interest as many as possible in this country, England, and Ireland to read through the Catholic authors from the earliest times, and give extracts showing the use of terms. We could thus gather obsolete words, show their meaning, their modern representatives, and examples attesting the latest period when they were in use; words that have been in use from the earliest period and words that have been introduced to take the place of obsolete words. Terms revived by the ritualists which Catholics do not use need not be regarded; but all nicknames applied to us should be collected, and characterized as being what they really are.

The preparation of such a dictionary of Catholic terms must be a labor of love; but in view of the necessities of the case, there ought to be no difficulty in obtaining the necessary aid from those who have the honor of the Church at heart. If the Philological Society can secure hundreds to assist in carrying out its project, the far less comprehensive one proposed by us should be more cordially received as it directly concerns our holy mother the Church. If interest is awakened by drawing attention generally to the want there will be little difficulty in printing and publishing the result of the common labor.

In justice to others we are bound to take some steps to guide them aright, before we censure them too harshly for deviating from the correct path.

NOTES ON SPAIN.

UMEROUS are the travellers from the United States that

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one meets with everywhere in Italy, and many agreeable reminiscences do I entertain of such acquaintances made there in the year of the Vatican Council. Few and far between, however, are the Americans to be found in Spain. This is a matter to be much regretted, for besides the advantage to the Spaniards of a much increased influx of visitors, transatlantic tourists would find in the more western peninsula a world of interest both in the land and also in its people, their ways, their looks, their monuments. One cannot at first but wonder that representatives of the nation of Prescott and Washington Irving are not more frequently to be found in the courts of the Alhambra, at the tomb of Ferdinand and Isabella, or amidst scenes of the lives of Columbus and Pizarro. Catholic citizens of the United States might, one would think, be greatly attracted towards a land so long, so emphatically Catholic, and still so profoundly permeated by Catholic sentiment. The bad repute, however, of Spanish living, Spanish inns, and Spanish travelling, a repute which keeps away so many English tourists, no doubt sufficiently accounts for the rarity there of our transatlantic cousins. It is, therefore, with much pleasure that I hasten to declare to the American public that a visit to Spain, just accomplished, convinces me that that land is most unjustly maligned, and to assure all interested in the question that lodging, feeding, and travelling can be effected with very reasonable comfort, and that all the points of special interest can be visited without hardship or fatigue.

Tastes proverbially differ; but for my part I must avow that comparing the towns and cities on the Spanish railways with analogous towns and cities on the German railways, I give the preference as regards cooking and sleeping accommodations very decidedly to Spain.

In five weeks spent there journeying from St. Sebastian to Barcelona, via Madrid, Cordova, Seville, Cadiz, Malaga, Grenada, and Valencia, I never met with a bed that was not both comfortable and scrupulously clean, and free from unwelcome tenants. Everywhere there is most excellent bread, and either good coffee, or good chocolate. Very rarely did the flavor of garlic (a flavor, by the way, without which there is no good cookery) obtrude itself, and the fault to be found was not with the cooking, but with the too prevalent habit of dressing meat too fresh-one of the many instances in which Spaniards carry their summer habits into the winter. If, however, there is this drawback as to their meat,

their sweets and confectionery are excellent. All the hotels are very reasonable in their charges, it being, however, advisable always on arrival to make a distinct agreement for so much a day, everything included.

Travelling by rail is slow work certainly, but the carriages are comfortable; and a non-smoking carriage is always to be had for the asking, and is strictly reserved for non-smokers. This is a far preferable arrangement to that of France, where smoking is nominally forbidden in every carriage and practically allowed in all, the onus of prohibition being thrown upon the travellers themselves, whose objection to smoking may be great, but whose moral courage for objecting may be small-to their serious inconvenience.

The ill repute as to travelling comfort from which Spain suffers was doubtless formerly well deserved, and that even not long ago. To be sure of this it is sufficient to read Lady Herbert, of Lea's, narrative of her journeys to Cordova and Grenada, and to compare them with my own experience. Spain is, in fact, a country but freshly opened up to travellers who are somewhat enterprising, who like to take a route not followed by the whole mob of tourists, but who yet care for creature comforts and do not care to "rough it." To such travellers I do not hesitate to say, go at once and judge for yourselves.

With these hints for the general public-which I trust may serve to encourage not a few hesitating tourists to venture on the southern side of the Pyrenees-I turn at once to matters concerning the Church and religion in Spain. That country is full of interest historically, politically, commercially, and scientifically. Its botany may be said to be yet unknown, while its flora is a far richer one than that of Italy. Even in zoology a great deal remains to be accomplished. To the Catholic, however, the word "Spain," calls up at once a host of ecclesiastical memories and aspirations, and upon the Catholic American that old country has very special claims.

A quick run from Paris to Bayonne, a night's rest at each, with a peep at Biarritz having been experienced, we (myself and a friend) crossed the Bidassoa and arrived at St. Sebastian in good time to ascend Monte Argullo, and enjoy the magnificent view from the ramparts of the fortress on its summit.

But just over the border we hardly hoped to find what we did find, so sudden a change in the aspect of things around us. Groups of ladies with mantillas, Spanish peasant dresses, and ox-drawn carts, the wheels of which were solid like those of classical Italy two thousand years ago.

The churches of St. Sebastian would be insignificant in another Spanish city. But in this, the first town visited, they were most VOL. V.-19

interesting, so strikingly different are they from those of France. With small windows to keep out heat and glare in a land of such penetrating sunshine, the wall-space left has encouraged the development of internal sculpture; and hence those enormous carved altar-pieces or "retablos," reaching to the ceiling, which are at once so general and so characteristic. The ornate and busy character of a Spanish church interior is what, together with the semiobscurity, at first strikes the northern visitor. Profuse carving and gilding, the lavish character of which is generally more remarkable than the beauty, are apparent on every hand. But how and where to pray may trouble some newcomers. In St. Sebastian (so near France), as in one or two churches in Madrid, chairs like those in French churches are to be found., Generally, however, there is nothing but the pavement on which to kneel or sit—no bench or chair is to be seen. Another peculiarity is the position of the choir. Instead of being in close proximity to the altar-in front of it (as generally north of the Alps) or behind it, as so often in Italy-the choir with its stalls and organ is removed far from the sanctuary and is placed near the west end of the church. A narrow pathway (railed in on each,side) connects, in most cathedrals, the inclosure of the choir with the distant sanctuary and allows the clergy to pass from one to the other without being inconvenienced by the congregation, which may crowd the interspace between these inclosures, standing or kneeling with their backs to the clergy and their faces to the altar.

In many parish and monastic churches the choir is raised up upon a great west gallery, the entire area of the church being thus left to the congregation. This we found to be the case with the large church at St. Sebastian, a very handsome flight of steps leading up on one side from the floor of the church to the choir. Close to this church, on the way up to the fortress, is a large Carmelite nunnery; and the next day (October 15th) was the feast of their patron, the great Spanish saint, St. Theresa. In the fortress itself we found a well-kept little chapel, with its lamp burning and the holy water stoop outside well filled. We felt we were in a Spanish rather than in a French fort.

Descending by the graves of the English officers who fell here in the Peninsular War, and passing the modern ruins of the adjacent stations and the cross set up by Ferdinand VII., in gratitude for his return, we went to the hotel for dinner and rest, in preparation for an early start next day for Burgos. Let the traveller then follow the same route, do as we did, and traverse it by day to enjoy its fine scenery, especially the magnificent defile of Pancorbo, with its limestone precipices-still better seen by railway than by the old coach-road.

The ancient and decayed city of Burgos and its environs contains three special objects of attraction,-its far-famed Cathedral, the Convent of Las Huelgas, and the Catuja, an old Carthusian monastery of Miraflores. Interesting as is this city to the artist and archæologist, it was the worst for comfort we anywhere experienced on our route. At our hotel there, the Rafaela,-which, like so many Spanish inns, begins on the first floor, not on the ground floor,-we met with the only really unsavory dish, one made of odds and ends of ox, and with a taste resembling the odor of the cat. However, if the material gratifications of Burgos are scant and poor, a plentiful intellectual repast is offered there to the Catholic, the artist and the historian.

I entered the famed Cathedral at six in the morning, and found small scattered congregations at the different Masses which were going on in continual succession. The Spanish chasuble is like the Roman in that there is no cross behind, but it is longer and gradually widens from the shoulders downwards. The servers at these early masses were not clad in cassocks and surplices, but were poor boys in their own more or less ragged attire. Here, as elsewhere in Spain save Andalusia, I was struck with the gravity and solemnity with which Mass was said. The bell is always rung before the pater noster, as in France, and the congregation make then the sign of the cross in the complex way in which it is made in Spain, the forehead, mouth, and chest being first crossed, then a large sign of the cross following, to which other small crossings may again succeed; the thumb being always kissed at the last.

Some forty clergy are attached to the Cathedral, of whom twentyeight, I believe, are canons. The canons do not generally in Spain dress as in France or Italy, but each wears a long silk cloak (like a cope) with a colored hood over it, worn on the shoulders with a point extending down the back.

There are three High Masses in the Cathedral every day, and the office is, of course, daily sung-but not well sung. Hardly any congregation attends any part of it, even vespers. At that office, two priests in copes bearing silver maces (carried sloping over the shoulders) go from the sacristy through the sanctuary to the choir, and conduct thence three other priests in copes to the sanctuary, when, the altar having been incensed, they return to the choir. It is no part of the object of this paper to describe buildings already copiously described in guide-books, accordingly I will say nothing of the Cathedral, except to remark that for travellers from countries, such as England and France, the monuments of which have suffered so much from violence of iconoclasts, the uninjured and undefaced condition of its sculptured richness has a special charm. At the old and magnificent Carthusian Monastery of Miraflores