Among the pious customs which owe their existence to the fertile spirit of Catholic devotion is that which dedicates the month of November to the Suffering Souls in Purgatory. It would seem as though the annual circle of commemorative devotion were incomplete without this crowning fulfilment of charity. Some years since, I met with a graphic description of a spectacle in the Catholic Cemetery of New Orleans. It was the 2d of November, when the friends and relatives of the dead came to scatter emblematic wreaths and sweet-scented flowers on their graves. This custom was observed by the French Catholics and their descendants; and the writer, although a Protestant, was deeply impressed with its beauty and significance. He asked why, among Americans, there was so little of this eloquent affection for the dead. He might have found an answer in the fact that the principle of faith was wanting--of that vivid and active faith which seeks and finds by such means its outward manifestation. We, also, are the children of the Saints. We have inherited from them the same faith in all its integrity, and how does our _practice_ correspond with it? What are we doing for that army of holy captives who cannot leave their prison till the uttermost farthing be paid? Let us not imitate those tepid Christians who are satisfied with erecting costly monuments, and observing, with scrupulous exactness, the usual period of "mourning," while the poor souls are left to pine forgotten, if they have gone with some-lingering stains--some earthly tarnish on their nuptial garment. Ah! there is so much that might be done if we would only reflect, and let our hearts be softened by the intense eloquence of their mute appeal.... These are a few of the thoughts suggested by the late solemnity, and perhaps they cannot be concluded more appropriately than by introducing the following poem, found in an old magazine. If the theme be sufficient to inspire thus one who had but faint glimmerings of divine truth, what should be expected of us, who rejoice in the fullness of that light? I twine, then, this flower of the desert with the leaves I have gathered, and offer my humble wreath as a tribute of faith and affection on the altar dedicated to the dear departed. _November_, 1859. LITANY OP THE DEPARTED. It is, therefore, a holy and wholesome thought to pray for the dead.-- II. Mach. xii. 26. For the spirits who have fled From the earth which once they trod; For the loved and faithful dead, We beseech the living God! Oh! receive and love them! By the grave where Thou wert lying, By the anguish of Thy dying, Spread Thy wings above them; Grant Thy pardon unto them, _Dona eis requiem!_