sed Sacrament: what a joy it was
to strew flowers in God's path! But before scattering them on the
ground I threw them high in the air, and was never so happy as
when I saw my rose-leaves touch the sacred Monstrance.

And if the great feasts came but seldom, each week brought one
very dear to my heart, and that was Sunday. What a glorious day!
The Feast of God! The day of rest! First of all the whole family
went to High Mass, and I remember that before the sermon we had to
come down from our places, which were some way from the pulpit,
and find seats in the nave. This was not always easy, but to
little Therese and her Father everyone offered a place. My uncle
was delighted when he saw us come down; he called me his
"Sunbeam," and said that to see the venerable old man leading his
little daughter by the hand was a sight which always filled him
with joy. I never troubled myself if people looked at me, I was
only occupied in listening attentively to the preacher. A sermon
on the Passion of our Blessed Lord was the first I understood, and
it touched me deeply. I was then five and a half, and after that
time I was able to understand and appreciate all instructions. If
St. Teresa was mentioned, my Father would bend down and whisper to
me: "Listen attentively, little Queen, he is speaking of your holy
patroness." I really did listen attentively, but I must own I
looked at Papa more than at the preacher, for I read many things
in his face. Sometimes his eyes were filled with tears which he
strove in vain to keep back; and as he listened to the eternal
truths he seemed no longer of this earth, his soul was absorbed in
the thought of another world. Alas! Many long and sorrowful years
had to pass before Heaven was to be opened to him, and Our Lord
with His Own Divine Hand was to wipe away the bitter tears of His
faithful servant.

To go back to the description of our Sundays. This happy day which
passed so quickly had also its touch of melancholy; my happiness
was full till Compline, but after that a feeling of sadness took
possession of me. I thought of the morrow when one had to begin
again the daily life of work and lessons, and my heart, feeling
like an exile on this earth, longed for the repose of Heaven--the
never ending Sabbath of our true Home. Every Sunday my aunt
invited us in turns to spend the evening with her. I was always
glad when mine came, and it was a pleasure to listen to my uncle's
conversation. His talk wa