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fall upon you, my little sister. What you have done for me to-night makes me your debtor forever."

"You must not feel that way," she hastened to say. "Don't you know I love him dearly? May I not see him before I go?"

He led the way to the room where Tony lay asleep. She bent over him and kissed the flushed little cheek. At the

touch of her lips, Tony stirred, and muttered drowsily in English:

"Good-night, mother!"

The man staggered from the room, and the woman followed, swift pity sending a gush of tears to her dark eyes. Without a word she took his hand in a gentle clasp, then, opening the door, slipped back into the night. (To be continued.)

The Penitent of Uttoxeter

Alice S. Deletombe

In St. Mary's Square, Lichfield, England, is a statue of the celebrated Dr. Johnson, one of the bas-reliefs of which represents him doing penance for having refused his father to keep the bookstall in the market-place during the latter's illness one day. Remorse led him fifty years after to visit the place and take his stand in the very stall his father used to keep and thus relieve himself of the burden of unkindness he had borne for half a century.

In fair Uttoxeter one day was seen,

When the wintry wind was cold and keen,
A man of dignity, whose face

Was strange to all in the market-place.
The rude crowd jostled and passed him by
With jeers and scorn, oft-questioning why
He stood so long with uncovered head
In the chilly air; but no word he said.
Cared he for the idle populace

That round him surged in the market-place?
Duty had called two score years or more;
Pride had rebelled, but now, conquered, he bore
The taunts that reached him, while bowing low
The wind tossed the grey locks o'er his brow
In wild disorder, like thoughts quick sped
Through his troubled mind. of the cherished dead.
Word and wind swept on; but sharper the grief
That led him in age to find relief

Standing, at last, in his father's place,

An empty stall in the market-space.

Through fame and triumph he could not forget,

A pang of conscience was torturing yet;

So he stood, despite the world and weather,
Life and the year grown old together,
Determined and humble, altho' so late,
His act unfilial to expiate!

The scoffing and scorn of the busy town
He little dreamed would bring renown,
Tho' often the gossips, on market day,
Would smile, remembering, on the way,
His penance there had brought no shame,
But crowned with honor his great name.

A

Blessed Henry Suso
Suso on Love

Neighbor

By FATHER THUENTE, O. P.

LMOST constant and painful suffering separated the pure and tender heart of Blessed

Henry Suso from worldly love and affection, while devout and frequent prayer lifted that heart up to God and filled and enflamed it with divine charity.

True love of God leads the soul to a pure, self-sacrificing love of neighbor. St. Catherine of Siena explains this well in one of her beautiful letters:

"God is Love. God has loved us without being loved but we love Him because we are loved. We cannot be of any profit to Him, nor love Him with this first love. Yet God demands of us that as He has loved us without any second thoughts, so He should be loved by us. In what way can we do this, then, since He demands it of us and we can not give it to Him? I tell you: through a means which He has established by which we can love Him freely, and without the least regard to any profit of ours; we can be useful, not to Him, which is impossible, but to our neighbor. * To show the love we have to Him we ought to serve and love every rational creature."

*

*

In these few words the seraphic saint gives us the pure source and motivę for loving our neighbor as ourselves. We see that God loves us, and therefore we must love Him that is the source. We see the image of God, Whom we love, in every rational creature who stands in need of our assistance. Therefore we must love and serve him: "Whatsoever you do to the least of Mine, you do unto Me.".

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Blessed Henry Suso excelled in practical Christian charity. He was the friend of the poor, weeping with the sorrowful, rejoicing with the happy. His love was universal. He imitated Jesus, Who said: "Come all ye who suffer and are heavily burdened and I will refresh you," Who, hanging on the cross, prayed, suffered and died for all.

A beautiful picture which one of the devout penitents of the saint had in a vision reveals to us the extent of the work of this priest for the salvation of souls. She beheld him on a high mountain saying Mass, and, with the Blessed Sacrament in his hands, praying fervently for a vast multitude of children, who surrounded him and clung to his vestments. God explained the vision by saying that the multitude of children. represented the great number of souls whom Blessed Henry was leading and helping, by word and example, by suffering and prayer, to ascend the mountains of perfection to the Eternal Home.

It was to them that he daily said: "Sursum Corda,"-lift up your hearts; and their hearts were lifted up to God. "My sole desire," he tells us, "was to love God with my whole heart and to teach others the sweetness of this love."

Among those whom Blessed Henry led to heaven, there were some who came to him from afar to confess their sins and to receive spiritual advice and consolation; others there were whom he followed and brought to the fold, even as the Good Shepherd seeks the lost sheep and carries it home on His shoulder; there were some whom he met ac

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cidentally, or rather providentially, on his journeys. We will mention one example of each of these three classes to illustrate the tenderness and solicitude, the courage and perseverance, the effectiveness and success, of his unlimited and undying love for the temporal and eternal happiness of his neighbor.

Elizabeth Staglin, as we have seen in the introduction, was a cloistered Dominican nun in Switzerland. She had an angelic soul, led an exemplary life, and was the mirror of all virtues for her companions. She longed for and sought spiritual food by studying and observing the lives of saintly religious, even as the bee flies from flower to flower to gather the sweet honey. Hearing of the life of Blessed Henry Suso, she wrote to him and asked for enlightenment. "Do me one favor," she wrote; "I need not only direction but also encouragement in my trials. It is said that the pelican feeds her young with the blood of her breast. Feed me, your hungry child, with the spiritual food of doctrine taken from your personal experience. The more personal that experience, the greater will be its effect on me."

The saint complied with her wish, and as a result we have the history of the inner life of Blessed Henry. Charitythe desire to help an earnest, God-seeking soul-induced him to reveal the most secret thoughts of his soul, the most sacred longings of his heart.

When he told the good nun that he began his spiritual life with a sincere. general confession, she immediately wrote the confession of her whole life and sent it to the saint, not, indeed, to receive absolution, but to make herself known to him. She ends her confession with the words: "Good master, I, a poor sinner, kneel down at your feet, begging you to lead me to the Sacred Heart with your loving heart, so that I may be called your child now and forever."

The simplicity and sincerity of this child touched the heart of the saint;

still, the responsibility and difficulty of the request made him fear and hesitate. But his charity conquered. He turned to God and said: "Merciful God, what answer shall your servant give? Shall I turn her away? But I could not treat a little dog in that way. Perhaps it will not please You if I yield, for she seeks the wealth of the Master in me, His servant. Behold, Good Master, I kneel down with her and beg You to hear her prayers. Say to her: 'Be of good heart, daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole.'"

These words show the great and noble heart of the saint. He could not refuse anything to a dog, much less to a soul consecrated to God. He gave her all he had to give. Gratuitously he had received his marvelous gifts from God, gratuitously he gave them to others. Having given. all, he knelt down and prayed for those whom the God-Father had given to him. In spirit he took them to the altar every morning, and offered up the holy sacrifice of the Mass with them and for them.

His charity provided not only for such as came to him. His compassionate heart went forth to the lost sheep of his Master's flock. To seek and bring back the lost sheep is a very important work of charity. Many of those who have gone astray are disheartened and discouraged. Having left God, they become weak and feeble. They cannot walk, they must be carried back. To seek them and bring them home is the privilege of not only God's priests, but of every Christian. All must be good Samaritans and must help the spiritually wounded and dying, those lying by the wayside, and bring them to the heavenly Jerusalem. Let us learn from Blessed Henry Suso how to perform this apostolic work.

A lost sheep was his sister. She was a religious and lived in a convent very near his own. Unfortunately, the convent

rules were not strictly observed, and with religious discipline the religious spirit was lost. To enter such a convent is always dangerous and often disastrous. While her saintly brother was absent on a long journey, the lukewarm sister went out frequently, fell into bad company, committed sin, and, being filled with shame and remorse, left the convent and wandered about in the world.

On his return Blessed Henry Suso heard some vague rumors which alarmed him. Finally, a kind brother found courage to tell him the whole story. It wounded and almost broke his heart, for this sister had been the particular joy of his life from childhood days. To behold her disgraced before God and man was more terrible than death to him.

When he asked where she was, no one could tell him. When he asked what to do, no one could advise him. He felt himself disgraced and abandoned. But the thought of her soul filled him with new courage. Putting aside all human respect, he offered up his disgrace to God. "I will cast myself into the depths of her degradation," he cried, "and save her." And he started out at once to save her. Blushing with shame, he inquired everywhere for his lost sister. After many a discouraging answer, he received some definite information. It was the feast of St. Agnes. It was intensely cold. As heavy rains had fallen, Blessed Henry was compelled to cross a brook which, swollen by the heavy downpour, was very deep. Weak, exhausted, excited, he fell into the water. But nothing could stay his ardor. He arose; the burning pain in his heart was too great to let him realize his bodily suffering. He went on his way and found his sister. How did he meet her? What did he say to her? His bleeding heart spoke out clearly and softened her cold, hardened heart. Her misery was his misery; her misfortune his misfortune. Charity made him descend to her. "My God,

why hast thou abandoned me?" he cried out, and then fainted away. When he recovered, he exclaimed: "My sister, much have I suffered for you!"

His suffering, his tears, his prayers, his kindness, his love, won her heart. It opened her eyes. In the light and goodness of his heart she saw the darkness and wickedness of her own. Like Mary Magdalene, she shed bitter tears of repentance at the feet of her brother. Humbly and tenderly she implored his mercy and pardon. "Brother," she cried, "saviour of my soul, take me back, oh, take me back with thy heart. Be like unto God and receive me, a wretched sinner. sinner. Have pity upon me. Honor

God by helping me." The saint lifted her up, embraced her, and said: "As I hope that God will some day receive me, a poor wretched sinner, into His arms of mercy and love, so do I receive you now. Freely do I forgive you the pain and sorrow you have caused me. Gladly will I help you to atone for your sins in the eyes of God and men."

Once again the sister entered a convent, observed the austere rule most strictly, led a penitent life and died a saintly death. What untold joy filled the heart of Blessed Henry! Gratefully he cried out, "We know that for them that love God all things work together unto good."

Thus the saint, according to his own. words, converted many men and many

women.

The goodness of his heart was always the secret of his power and success. He often converted sinners without directly intending it. The most remarkable conversion was that of a criminal who lived in the dark forests along the Rhine, and who made his living by robbing and killing people.

One day as Blessed Henry Suso was passing through the forest he was greatly alarmed upon seeing a man who carried a lance and a long knife approaching him-for though a saint he

remained perfectly human and still feared death like a child. Coming close to him, the outlaw began to tell him of his many wicked deeds, and finally ended his story by boasting that with that very knife he carried he had killed a priest, and had thrown the body into the river.

Blessed Henry trembled, cold sweat stood out on his brow. At the sight of this fear the murderer's heart was

touched, even as the penitent robber's on the cross at the sight of Christ's Passion. "Pray for me," he cried, "that God may have mercy upon my soul." Blessed Henry learned later from God that that soul had been saved.

The charity of Blessed Henry Suso was universal. He tried to console and save every human soul. He was also self-sacrificing. To sacrifice one's self is the new law of Christ's Church.

"I

give you a new commandment," He said, "that you love one another as I have loved you." Having given the commandment, He illustrated how He loved us. He sacrificed Himself on the cross for friend and foe. • Thus we must love one another.

Our mystic saint is a true model for us in this respect. Writing to a penitent who was discouraged because of many temptations and who feared the sacrifice of a Christian life, he says: "Would to God I could take your place in this struggle and suffer for you the blows that wound your heart." When he received the sad news that one of his spiritual children was dying, he wrote her a most sympathetic and consoling letter, beginning with the words of David: "My son Absalom, Absalom, my son: who would grant me that I might die for thee."

This desire of the saint to suffer and die for others became, practically, a sad reality. In a long chapter he tells us how he had to sacrifice his friends, his honor, his reputation,-everything for charity's sake.

We shall give the substance of this saddest incident in his beautiful life to show how heroically charity fought and conquered: A prominent woman tried to conceal her private, scandalous life under the cloak of religion by going to confession to this saintly priest. When he detected her want of sincerity and contrition, he denied her absolution and refused to see her. This wounded her

pride and filled her heart with hatred.

Inspired by the evil spirit, she threatened the innocent priest to accuse him before the world of the vilest crime if he would not permit her to continue her sacrilegious practices. The saint understood the greatness of the danger, but remained firm. "It is better to lose one's name," he answered, "than to offend God and one's own soul."

Immediately the woman began her diabolical work. Going to the priests and prominent laymen of the neighborhood she calumniated Blessed Henry, substantiating her slander, in a most clever, deceiving way, by apparent proofs. Many believed her story; for the evil said of God's ministers is easily believed and spreads fast. Since Blessed Henry Suso's reputation was great, the scandal was doubly great.

Keenly the saint suffered. His soul in the eyes of the people was robbed of its greatest treasure-angelic virtue. Disgrace was brought down upon the convent and the Order. Sadly he went to his two most intimate religious friends and found to his great consternation that they, too, misjudged him. More than that, his superiors doubted his innocence. Then he realized the meaning of the words: "The tribulations of the just are may, they come from all sides."

Heartbroken, he sought refuge in God. Childlike, he complained of his suffering. But God questioned him and said: "Where now is your holy indifference, your total resignation?" "I asked for mercy," pleaded the saint.

God

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