yal de
Paris, in order to bestow the money on the poor. Everyone looked up to
her, but by-and-by it began to be whispered that she was 'a dangerous
person,' who thought that the Church needed reforming as well as the
convents, and had adopted the opinions of one Jansen, a Swiss, who
wished to go back to the faith of early times, when St. Augustine was
bishop.

In 1654 she heard through one of her nephews that in consequence of some
of the recluses having resisted a decree of the pope condemning a book
of Jansen's, a resistance supposed to have been inspired by the abbess
herself, it was reported that she was either to be sent to the Bastille
or imprisoned in some convent. She did not take any notice, and neither
threat was fulfilled; but the hatred which the order of the Jesuits bore
to the 'Jansenists,' as their opponents were called, never rested, and
later a command came for the recluses to be dispersed, and the leaders
were forced to go into hiding. Then her schoolgirls were sent to their
homes, 'la belle Hamilton,' a Scotch girl, among them; and after them
went the candidates, or those who wished to take the veil. All these
blows came thick and fast, and Angelique, with health broken from the
incessant labours of over fifty years, was attacked by dropsy.

The nuns were in despair, and hung about her night and day, hoping that
she might let fall some words which they might cherish almost as divine
commands; but Angelique, who, unlike her sister Agnes, had all her life
been very impatient of sentimentality, detected this at once, and took
care 'neither to say nor do any thing remarkable.' 'They are too fond of
me,' she once said, 'and I am afraid they will invent all sorts of silly
tales about me.' And in order to put a stop as far as she could to all
the show and parade which she knew her nuns would rejoice in, as she
felt that her end was drawing near she gave them her last order:

'Bury me in the churchyard, and do not let there be any nonsense after
my death.'

GORDON

Many years hence, when the children of to-day are growing old men and
women, they will perhaps look back over their lives, as I am doing now,
and ask themselves questions about the people they have known or have
heard of. 'Who,' they will say, 'was the person I should have gone to at
once if I needed help?' 'Who was the man whose talk made me forget
everything, till I felt as if I could listen to him for ever?' 'What
woman was the mos