granted; they could not consent to receive him thus. Then the boy made up his mind to leave his country and his father's house, and "beg his way as a pilgrim wherever there were any Jesuit colleges, and to go on making his request, first in one place and then in another, till it was granted." For a long while he had been enduring in silent patience taunts and blows and kicks from his brother because his holy life was displeasing to Paul, and a tacit reproof of his evil ways; now, when next ill-used, Stanislaus declared that such conduct would drive him to leave the place. "Go where you like," Paul cried, "only don't let me see any more of you." And so one August morning Stanislaus left the city, and in pilgrim dress proceeded joyfully to go where he liked. He was pursued in vain. Walking about four hundred and fifty miles, he a noble's son, without money, fed by charity, and housed at night like any beggar, he came to Augsburg, and not finding there the provincial of whom he was in search, went straight on to Dillingen. Here he was allowed to count himself as a novice, but his stay was short, and on the 25th of October, 1567, he was received into the Central Home of the order in Rome. There for ten months his life flowed on in the uneventful monotony, as men would think it, of the noviceship, and there, on the Feast of the Assumption, 1568, Stanislaus Kostka died.

And is this all? Before we search more deeply into this life, let us notice what followed after death. At once, as though the mystical odor of sanctity pervaded Rome, the city woke to the knowledge that a saint had been there; not only the other novices and the fathers of his order gathered around his bier, but crowds of the people visited it. Into the midst of this holy triumph Paul Kostka came, unconscious of what had happened, eager to bear home his despised, ill-treated brother as a

captive. But the King of kings had taken his servant into his own safekeeping. Paul found a silent corpse round which a whole city was telling of the holiness of the soul whose shrine that corpse had been. With a changed heart Paul went home to carry the news, and then "but one sentiment, that of deep joy and gratitude, penetrated the household of Kostka. They all felt that for an earthly relative whom they had lost they had obtained a saint for a brother."

And soon all Poland learned that it had a saint for a child. Word arrived from Rome that Stanislaus had been styled Blessed; his pictures were placed in the churches, his statues in the squares, lamps and votive offerings around his tomb. Fifty years after his death the Poles gained a signal victory over the Turks in an invasion which had threatened the very salvation of the country, and this was attributed to the intercession of St. Stanislaus, a portion of whose precious relics had entered the Polish dominions on the day of the enemies' final rout. Fifty years later still "the_great victory of Sobieski over the Turks, near Leopol, in 1676, was attributed by him and his consort to the intercession of the saint, to whom many prayers were made at the time of the battle, the issue of which was decided, in a great measure, by an extraordinary storm of hail and snow (it was on the 24th of August), which drove right in the faces of the Turks, who were far more numerous than their opponents, and who were completely disconcerted and thrown into disorder by the suddenness and violence of the tempest." And fifty years after this event the final rites were celebrated which numbered the holy boy of Poland among the canonized saints revered by the worldwide Church of God.

But what has it all to do with us as Americans, and with this special year which opens a second century

of our national existence? Let us look again upon that life of three centuries ago; look upon it not by the light of events, but to see the real character, the spring of action, the secret of this marvellous influence upon others. Of Stanislaus's childhood we are told that there seemed to be nothing of the child about him save his sweetness and innocence; his whole delight was in holy things and in exercises of devotion. It was said of him lovingly that he was an angel now, and would be a saint by and by. In Vienna he seemed, whether at prayer or study, or in ordinary conversation, to live in the atmosphere of holiness. "For his angelic modesty and piety he was looked upon as an angel." He led a life of severe penance, yet had nothing gloomy about him, "was always bright and joyous, with that indescribable gayety which is the inseparable companion of innocence and holiness."

"But what," says his biographer, "must have been the gladness of that blessed soul, so faintly reflected in his happy face, that soul which for long hours of day and night was rapt in the enjoyment of God, and bathed in the bliss of heaven? Safe with his God 'from the strife of tongues and the provoking of all men,' his secret was known to no human heart." Yet part of that secret we may guess, even as we also know in part how sore was the provoking of men around him. Taunted by the tutor sent with him and Paul to Vienna, told "that a nobleman might lead a Christian life without being singular and extravagant, that God only requires the allegiance of the heart, and that in external matters it was his duty to conform to the ways of the world;" beaten and stamped upon by his own brother, he returned this noble answer: "I was not created for this world but for eternity, and for eternity, not for this world, I will live." Yet, while abating not one whit his prayers

and penances, he loved to wait upon his brother as a menial might have done, and tried in things which were not of conscience to adapt himself to his will. To his parents he made no complaints, though his wrongs came from one only a year his senior, and it was to one so near his own age that in the flush of independent youth his obedience was meekly rendered.

OS

There is a special blessing promised to the clean of heart: "They shall see God." The perfect fulfilment of that promise, the complete rapture of the beatific vision in a bliss that shall be endless and unbroken, belongs to heaven, but it has for holy souls its foretaste upon earth. To this child, whose angelic modesty was so intense that he often fell into what seemed a swoon if persons spoke in his presence of matters contrary to Christian purity,-to this boy, who used to walk in Vienna as if he walked with the Boy Jesus in Jerusalem,- devoted to the Immaculate Mother that all his compositions touched upon some of her glories, and he was wont to write her name on the books he used, that when he saw it he might kiss it, and who never entered or left school without visiting the Blessed Sacrament,-to so sweet a soul a very garden of lilies in its purity, the Lord of holiness delighted to come down. In Stanislaus's great illness while at Vienna he longed exceedingly to receive Holy Communion, but their Lutheran landlord, with whom Paul insisted upon boarding, would not permit the Blessed Sacrament to come into his house. God the Almighty has ministers who are as flames of fire, and to whom bolts and bars and man's will are nothing. Let the boy tell his own story as he told it to a dear friend in Rome. "Once when I was ill, in the house of a heretic, I had an intense longing for Holy Communion, and I recommended the matter to St. Barbara. While my heart was full

of this desire she suddenly appeared in the room accompanied by two angels bearing the Blessed Sacrament, and I communicated with great joy." He supposed that this grace was vouchsafed to him as his viaticum, and he did for a time grow much worse, but God had other work and another rapturous delight in store for him. The Blessed Virgin, her Holy Child in her arms, came to his couch, and laying the divine infant on the bed, he and Stanislaus embraced and caressed each other; and in this visit of exquisite bliss the command was given to the youth that he should enter the Society of Jesus. After this he arose perfectly well.

The command served to quicken into action a flame which had been burning in his heart for months, for in his degree he knew the sufferings of vocation which some souls have to bear to a far greater extent and for a much longer time. There was one calling to him, asking for his whole self without reserve; one who would not endure that father or mother should be loved in comparison with him, and who even asks that father and mother shall be hated for his name's sake. At last, in the might of him who let his Holy Mother seek him three days sorrowing, Stanislaus left all to follow him.

On that journey, once again the Blessed Sacrament was brought to his hungering soul by angels, and the very different experiences which followed these heavenly delights, they were blessings, the exercise of humility and self-abnegation in his life at Dillingen, where the duties of a common servant were apportioned to this son of two noble houses of Poland. These duties he accepted "with the greatest joy and readiness, and discharged them with admirable diligence and modesty. When the news began to be whispered among the young men that the man-servant whose manners they liked so much was equal by birth and breeding to

the highest among them, and that he was acting in this lowly capacity simply for the love of God, and to obtain the favor of being received into the society, they regarded him with the utmost veneration, and we are told that many of them were led by his example to leave the world and enter the religious state.”

Then came the regular noviceship at Rome. Prayer, lessons, discussions, some manual labor, one simple duty or exercise of devotion following upon another in set order-this was and is the method of such a life. Of his we are told that "what alone distinguishes it from the ordinary course of a Jesuit novice, is the perfection with which its duties were discharged, and the fragrance of exquisite sanctity which it left behind it in the minds of those who were the companions of the saint and the witnesses of his daily actions." We hear of the exactness with which he kept the rules, the prudence and reasonableness which pervaded all he did, the readiness of his obedience even when he was ordered to do things in themselves difficult and repugnant to human nature. We read of his marked sweetness and meekness in conversation-never a word bitter or offensive in any way; of his gravity, and yet his affability; of "the air of purity which seemed to breathe from his face, as if even his fresh beauty had something of a gift of inspiring those who looked on him with the love of the angelical virtue." His love for penance, his progress in the spirit of mortification, are noted, and his marvellous fervor in prayer, where he met with no distractions, but his face glowed with light, and his eyes were moist with tears, and his heart was so on fire with the love of Christ that he had to apply cold wet cloths to allay the heat. And his devotion to our Blessed Lady increased with his holy life.

So the month of August came, and they looked forward and talked

among themselves of the great Feast of the Assumption, which glorifies that month. "I hope," said Stanislaus, "that I shall be up there (in Paradise) myself to enjoy this feast that is coming." Once already in that month he had said that he should die before its close, but then and now they heeded him not, little dreaming that the darling of their Roman home was ripening fast with the glowing summer for the heavenly home. On the feast of St. Lawrence it is related that he went to communion with a letter on his heart addressed to the Queen of Angels, asking her to obtain for him that he should be in Heaven on her approaching feast. The rest of that morning he spent in humble service in the kitchen, meditating holily meanwhile. That day illness came upon him, slight at first and for some days; yet to one and another he said that he should die. On Sunday, the 14th, alarm was felt for him, a deadly faint came upon him, then other dangerous symptoms. His prayer was to be answered, his faith rewarded, for he was truly dying. He asked pardon of all about him, and received the last sacraments devoutly. Let us lose not one word of the exquisite closing scenes.

"A few sayings and anecdotes are all that remain to us to help us to paint to ourselves the quiet hours as they passed on, bringing death every moment nearer and nearer. Father Ruiz asked him about his rosary, which he still held in his hand, though he was no longer able to recite the prayers. 'It belongs to my Blessed Mother,' said the dying youth. Courage,' said the father, 'for you will soon be in your Mother's presence, and be able to kiss her hands.' The words sent a thrill of joy through his frame, and he raised his hands and eyes to heaven in intense thanksgiving. Again and again he kissed the medal which hung at the end of the father's rosary as he knelt by his side, as well as a little

picture of Our Lady which was alway before him. He was asked if he had anything on his mind which gave him trouble, and he replied that there was nothing; he had placed all his confidence in the mercy of God, and for the rest was entirely resigned to his will. Again and again he repeated the words of the Psalm, My heart is ready, O God; my heart is ready!'

"He made his confession again more than once, either at the suggestion of Father Fagio, or of his own accord. He asked after his brother novices, and was told they had all been told to go to bed, so he begged that each one might be. greeted in his name, and be asked to forgive him for all the bad example he had given them. 'The time is short' (tempus breve est), he said to Father Fagio. 'Yes,' said the other, 'reliquium est' (it remains), and Stanislaus added, ut præparemus nos (for us to make ourselves ready). · Then they began to recite prayers for the dying, the Adoremus te Christe, and the prayer of St. Innocent, Deus qui pro redemptione mundi voluisti nasci, and the rest, in which the whole of our Lord's passion is summed up in brief. Stanislaus, with the crucifix in his hand, followed all with great fervor. They asked him if the repetition of the prayers fatigued him, or if he felt weary at waiting so long for death; but he answered that he was full of consolation. After a time, not to tire him, they stopped praying aloud, and then he began himself with some prayers of Dionysius, the Carthusian, which he was in the habit of saying, and broke out into great expressions of thankfulness to God for all the benefits he had received from him, especially those of redemption and creation, and he prayed him to blot out all his faults and receive his soul in peace. Then he kissed most tenderly the sacred wounds of the feet and hands and side on his crucifix, and leaned his head forward on the

crown of thorns. He got them to bring him a little book which he kept, in which he had written the names of the saints whom it had fallen to his lot to have to reverence specially month after month, and he begged the bystanders to commend him to these, his protectors.

"Stanislaus had begged from the very beginning of the dangerous crisis in which he now was, that he might be laid upon the bare ground, so as to die as a penitent. His request was refused almost up to the last; but he renewed it again, and he was at last placed on the ground, with a small pallet under him. There he lay till long after midnight on the Sunday. The day of the Assumption of his Blessed Mother found him still on earth. The novice-master, Father Fagio, Father Alphonso Ruiz, who, as has been said, had been his master while at the Gesu, with Father Warscewiski, who was the first to write his life, and others, knelt beside him. One more change came over him as the silent hours, broken only by prayers and sobs, flowed on towards the early dawn. He ceased from praying, and a wonderful gleam of joy came over his face. He looked around here and there, and seemed to be inviting his companions to join him in showing reverence to some great and holy person whom he saw present. Father Ruiz bent down to him, and the simple, obedient youth told him what it was that he seemed to see. The secret was divulged after his death. The Blessed Virgin appeared to him in that last hour as she had appeared to him in his perilous sickness at Vienna. Then she had bidden him enter the Society of her Son on earth, and now she came to welcome him to it in heaven. She was accompanied by a band of holy virgins, and they seemed to speak to him and he to them. The vision passed away only with his life. The ineffably happy smile which the sight of Mary had called to his lips was

still there as he breathed his last, and even remained on his face as it calmed down into the tranquillity of death. It was soon after three o'clock on the morning of the Feast of the Assumption. The actual moment of death was hardly discernible. islaus lay with his rosary in one hand, a blessed candle in the other, as a protestation of faith.' The fathers asked one another by their looks whether he was gone. It was known that it was so by a simple test. The picture of Our Lady always made him smile and light up afresh, but it was now placed before his eyes, and no change could be noted. His soul was in heaven with Our Lady herself."

With the calm of that holy death in the early morning still entrancing us, we turn to the tumult and heat of our own day. Strangely upon our constant hurry, our plans for business, for amusement, for education, comes the memory of this boy's serene, short life, into which no thought of worldly interest seemed even to enter; where his solitary earthly desire was granted when he was received into the Society to which God's voice called him; where not even plans for his future in religion are to be found; a life whose record contains none of those deeds which the world is wont to term acts of charity. Therefore it speaks to us as many saintly lives might fail to speak as clearly, because in them our attention is called in various directions. Here, with absorbing power, we are drawn from time and sense to that which is invisible. To this boy, God and the things of God were the realities; time and the things of time the sham and mocking shadows that they are.

It is a strange contradiction in which we live. Man's business is carried on daily by means which man cannot see. The electricity which flashes important matters from one continent to another, the heat which sets our looms in motion,