easant or unpleasant things which might happen throughout the
day, and if I foresaw nothing but worries I got up with a heavy
heart. Now it is quite the reverse. I think of the pains and of
the sufferings awaiting me, and I rise, feeling all the more
courageous and light of heart in proportion to the opportunities I
foresee of proving my love for Our Lord, and of gaining--mother of
souls as I am--my children's livelihood. Then I kiss my crucifix,
and, laying it gently on my pillow, I leave it there while I
dress, and I say: 'My Jesus, Thou hast toiled and wept enough
during Thy three-and-thirty years on this miserable earth. Rest
Thee, to-day! It is my turn to suffer and to fight.'"

* * * * * *

One washing-day I was sauntering towards the laundry, and looking
at the flowers as I passed. Soeur Therese was following, and
quickly overtook me: "Is that," she said quietly, "how people
hurry themselves when they have children, and are obliged to work
to procure them food?"

* * * * * *

"Do you know which are my Sundays and feast-days? They are the
days on which God tries me the most."

* * * * * *

I was distressed at my want of courage, and Soeur Therese said to
me: "You are complaining of what should be your greatest
happiness. If you fought only when you felt eagerness, where would
be your merit? What does it matter, even if you are devoid of
courage, provided you act as though you possessed it? If you feel
too lazy to pick up a bit of thread, and yet do so for love of
Jesus, you acquire more merit than for a much nobler action done
in a moment of fervour. Instead of grieving, be glad that, by
allowing you to feel your own weakness, Our Lord is furnishing you
with an opportunity of saving a greater number of souls."

* * * * * *

I asked her whether Our Lord were not displeased at the sight of
my many failings. This was her answer: "Be comforted, for He Whom
you have chosen as your Spouse has every imaginable perfection;
but--dare I say it?--He has one great infirmity too--He is blind!
And there is a science about which He knows nothing--addition!
These two great defects, much to be deplored in an earthly
bridegroom, do but make ours infinitely more lovable. Were it
necessary that He should be clear-sighted, and familiar with the
science of figures, do you not think that, confronted with our
many sins, He would send us back to our nothingness? But His Love
for us make