given to the exalted sanctity and zeal of the holy priest or to
the weeping virgin penitent, so privileged and so loved in the forgiving
memory of God.

On one occasion a young mother lost her infant. Death had stricken
the little flower ere it had blossomed. The mother was poor and unable
to bury the child. With an unbounded confidence in the charity and
zeal of St. Francis, the bright thought struck her: If she could only
get this good man interested in her behalf, all would be accomplished.
Accordingly, she made for the church of the Gesu by daylight. Only
one individual was before her waiting for the church to be opened.
It was Magdalen. Even from Magdalen she concealed the object of her
early visit, and pressed closer to her heart the dead treasure she
intended as a present for Father Francis. The church opened; she stole
around the dark aisles, whence the daylight had not yet banished the
shades of night, and noiselessly approached the confessional of the
holy man. She placed the dead child on the seat, and hurried to some
recess of the great church, where she could watch the happy issue of
this ingenious mode of disposing of her child. The early morning
hours wore away, and at length the wished for moment came. The vestry
door is opened. The tall, mortified form of St. Francis appeared at
the foot of the altar. He prayed awhile, and rose to go to his
confessional. But the young mother watched with her heart leaping to
her mouth. He did not go to his tribunal; he moved majestically down
the church, and came to Magdalen's corner where Alvira was wrapt in
prayer. He whispered something to her. They prayed for a moment,
then Alvira flitted like a shadow through the dark aisles towards
the confessional of Father Francis. She entered and took the infant
child in her arms. The child was alive. The mother came rushing
from her hiding-place to claim the infant, and when she received it
into her embrace the man of God raised his index finger in the act
of warning, and with a sweet, forgiving smile on his countenance,
said to the young mother: "My child, don't put any more dead babies
in my confessional."

Alvira had to undergo a severe trial in the absence of Father Francis.
He was directed by his superiors to commence his missions in the country
districts, and was virtually removed from Naples for some years. Before
leaving, he fortified his chosen children with salutary admonitions,
but for Alvira