Year: 1877

'no ihHatcS OF winch belong to the
austere order of st. Bernard
They are called Trappists, after
the great monastery of La Trappe
in France. 1t is the severest or
der In the world. Perpetual silence
is strictly enjoined. Each brother
has some particular employment.
Farmers, for miles around, have
their work done at the monastery.
1t IS optional for them to give
recompense. A brother told II Q
they have two monks whose trade
and industry have gained for the
house not less than SAC, 900.


Thirty years ago sixteen monks
left the city of Waterford, Ireland
They sailed for America, but on
their way cholera set in. Six of
them died on the way from New
Orleans to st. Louis. Their bones
are now quietly reposing on the
banks Of the Mississippi. The re-
naming ten chose a wild and des-
olate prairie for their future home,
near Dubuque. The first winter
was Intensely severe. The snow
was So deep that wagons passed
over fences without difficulty
They purchased 4 900 acres of land
at 25 cents an acre. That same
land is now worth SO an acre, and
the monastery, when complete, will
cost $4,000.


In regard to their rules, one OF
the monks gave the following =
"Ihe community (sixty in number)
must all rise at o'clock, a. M
Seven hours are allotted to me di-
tation, prayer, &c. We pray kneel-
ing or standing. No brother is
allowed to sit while praying or
reading. Once month we go
into the consistory chapel and pub.
licly accuse ourselves of all vani-
ties and imperfections. Fresh
meat is never allowed except to the
sick. One meal and a collation. is
allowed in winter; two meals in
summer. Our food is bread, milk
and vegetables. All the monks
wear the cowl and habit while in
the house." The old monk of
seventy concluded by saying: eve
live by oar own industry we have
no legacies, incomes or intentions
except the fruit of our lands and
our own industry" Their stalls in
the chapel are made SO they must
either stand or kneel. Reciting
the office they all lower their heads
at the names of the saints of their
order and kiss the ground at the
name of the Father, Sop or Holy
Ghost. Their summer and winter
garments are of The same material
The cowl or head covering is at
tached TO the habit; a leather belt
binds the tunic TO the body
Priests, brothers and abbott all
work in the fields. There is an
awful solemnity about their disci-
pline. Seeing them march, two by
two, from the chapel, l felt chill
run through my body. The long
line of silent spectres recalled to
my mind so many skeletons march.
ing to the grave. Not sound
was made by their feet as they
passed under the hyssop of the alb
bot. The abbot had a jeweled
ring which no one was allowed to
kiss. Instead of gold or silver he
held in his hand an old wooden
crozier. He had a very precious
relic for a pectoral cross. I could
white a better cross with my pen
knife. The string from which it
was suspended did not cost more
than S cents fifty years ago. His
habit was patched but very clean.


The Lord Abbot slept in the
dormitory with the monks. Over
his bed vas little font and
picture of Lourdes. Though he
could not speak in the dormitory,
still he was enthusiastic about the
luxury of an old blanket which be
hung before his bed to keep out
the breeze of winter. | have often
seen sailors hammock and a rail
road mans bnnk, but my Lord
Abbot's pallet was less comforta-
BILE. He had no chair, table or
looking glass. L almost imagined
the Pope intended to mock this
old man in giving him a wooden
cross and crozier, PAPER mitre, and
something like shoe string for II
chain. But soon that thought
was checked when / was told this
man came from noble family and
freely bartered the pleasures and
wealth of this world for the lone
and silent cloister There were
no castors or wine bottles on his
table. Instead of silver plate and
sparkling goblets, there stood be-
fore him an earthen jug, a rusty
knife and wooden plate. This man
was once fondled child of for
tune. He is to day one of the
leading scholars of tho Roman
church in America,yet when priests
and bishops and men of the world
are enjoying the comforts of pro-
found slumber the poor old abbot
is standing in his wooden stall