every boy, whatever his age, neatly and comfortably clad, and having the appearance of robust health. Indeed such was their appearance that, had I not been repeatedly assured they were the children of working men, I should have taken them as belonging to the middle class. Bright, intelligent, bold-eyed, happy-looking boys, the right stuff for the future citizens of a free country and a progressive community.
In the schools conducted by the Sisters of Charity there was the same air of comfort and neatness in the dress of the female children; and even where a special school might happen to be overcrowded, there was an absence of that oppressive odour too common in free schools frequented by the children of the working-classes, which is mainly attributable to the poverty of their clothing. There was nothing here but comfort and decency of dress; good proofs of the conduct and condition of the class thus favourably represented.
The Catholics of Nova Scotia are estimated at 115,000, being thus divided—30,000 French, 45,000 Scotch, and 40,000 Irish. In Halifax the Catholics form one half of the population, and are almost wholly Irish.
Without going back farther than the commencement of the present century, an incident of pregnant significance will enable the reader to contrast the position of the Catholic Church of that day with the position it now enjoys. The house still occupied by Archbishop Connolly and the clergy who officiate in the cathedral, was built by the Rev. Dr. Burke, or Father Burke, as he was familiarly called. Dr. Burke was a profound scholar, and eminent for his scientific attainments. Following the natural impulse of a learned and zealous priest, he determined to establish a school for the education of the Catholic youth of that day. The Penal Laws were still unrepealed; and though, from the growing enlightenment of the age, this infamous code had fallen into disuse, it still afforded a
