Believing that his Church holds the keys of the “kingdom come,” and as a consequence, a key to all problems moral and social that can move modern society, he grapples with them, after the manner of a knight of old, courteously but convincingly. His teaching is that, outside the bosom of the Catholic Church jostle the warring elements of confusion and uncertainty. In her fold can man find that rest, that sweet peace promised by the Redeemer. Her philosophy is the wisdom worth cherishing, the curing balm that philosophers vainly seek outside her pale. To the weary and thought-stricken would this great writer bring his often and beautifully taught lesson, that the things of this world are not the puppets of chance, nor lots of the pantheistic whole, but parts of a well-ordered system, governed by a paternal being, whom we, His children, address in that touching prayer, “Father, who art in Heaven.” From that Father came a Son, not mere man, not only a great prophet, not only a law-giver, but the true Son of God, equal to the Father, from all eternity, whose mission was, to teach all men that would listen, the way that leads to light. That this identical mission is, and will be continued to the consummation of the ages by the Catholic Church. That in the truth of these things, all men, who lovingly seek, will be confirmed, not that mere intellect alone could be the harbinger of such truths, for, as he has so well put it:—“Human reason and human knowledge, whether considered individually or collectively in the race are limited to the natural. Knowledge of the supernatural can come only from a Divine Teacher.” One may be convinced of every truth of revealed religion, and yet not possess the gift of faith. That gift is purely gratuitous. If, however, the seeker humbly and honestly desires the acquisition of these truths, and knocks, the door of the chamber of truth shall be opened unto him, for this has the Saviour promised. That door once opened, the Spirit of God breathes on the seeker, it opens the eyes of the soul, it reveals beyond all power of doubt or cavil, or contradiction, the supernatural as a fact, solemn, universal, constant throughout the vicissitudes of the age. While the author fashions these lofty truths on the anvil of modern scholarship, the reader finds himself, like the school children, in Longfellow’s poem, looking in through the artist’s open door full of admiration, fascinated by burning sparks. Pages have been written about the ideal, defining it, in verbiage fatiguing and elusive. It is a trick of pretended scholarship, to hide thought with massive word-boulders. What a difference in the process of this rare scholar?