ains, show us how marvellously
the horizon of her life had expanded, and how rapidly her fame had grown.
Perhaps no more finished specimen of epistolary correspondence has ever
been penned than those letters, written in the press of multifarious
occupations, and often late at night when the rest of the convent was
sleeping.'

Her confessor, who commanded Teresa to throw her _Commentary on the Song
of Solomon_ into the fire, was a sensible man and a true friend to her
reputation, and the nun who snatched a few leaves out of the fire did
Teresa's fame no service. Judging of the whole by the part preserved to
us, there must have been many things scattered up and down the destroyed
book well worthy of her best pen. The 'instance of self-esteem' which
Teresa so delightfully narrates is well worth all the burnt fingers its
preservation had cost the devoted sister: and up and down the charred
leaves there are passages on conduct and character, on obedience and
humility and prayer, that Teresa alone could have written. All the same,
as a whole, her _Commentary on the Song_ is better in the fire.

Her _Seven Meditations on the Lord's Prayer_ ran no danger of the
censor's fire. I have had occasion to read all the best expositions of
the Lord's Prayer in our language, and I am bound to say that for
originality and striking suggestiveness Teresa's _Seven Meditations_
stands alone. After I had written that extravagant sentence I went back
and read her little book over again, so sure was I that I must have
overpraised it, and that I would not be believed in what I have said
concerning it. But after another reading of the _Meditations_ I am
emboldened to let the strong praise stand in all its original strength. I
have passages marked in abundance to prove to demonstration the estimate
I have formed of this beautiful book, but I must forego myself the
pleasure and the pride of quoting them.

Sixteen Augustinian _Exclamations after having Communicated_: sixty-nine
_Advices to Her Daughters_, and a small collection of love-enflamed
_Hymns_, complete what remains to us of Teresa's writings.

Teresa died of hard work and worry and shameful neglect, almost to sheer
starvation. But she had meat to eat that all Anne Bartholomew's
remaining mites could not buy for her dying mother. And, strong in the
strength of that spiritual meat, Teresa rose off her deathbed to finish
her work. She inspected with all her wonted quickness of eye