Except in the rarest instances--let us not be afraid to own it--our Latin is that of amateurs, brilliant amateurs perhaps, but unmistakable.

Latin, for girls, is a source of delight, a beautiful enrichment of their mental life, most precious in itself and in its influence, but it is not a living power, nor a familiar instrument, nor a great discipline; it is deficient in hardness and closeness of grain, so that it cannot take polish; it is apt to betray by unexpected transgressions the want of that long, detailed, severe training which alone can make classical scholarship.

It is usually a little tremulous, not quite sure of itself, and indeed its best adornment is generally the sobriety induced by an overshadowing sense of paternal correction and solicitude always present to check rashness and desultoriness, and make it at least "gang warily" with a finger on its lip; and their attainments in Latin are, at the best, receptively rather than actively of value.
In Catholic girls' schools, however, the elements of Latin are almost necessity.

It is wanting in courtesy, it is almost uncouth for us to grow up without any knowledge of the language of Holy Church.

It is almost impossible for educated Catholics to have right taste in devotion, the "love and relish" of the most excellent things, without some knowledge of our great liturgical prayers and hymns in the original.