“You know,” replied Monsignor L—— “that in ancient times abuse easily crept in with the use of wine in the Holy Communion, and besides—wine is not œ easily obtained in many countries.”
“I know it, Monsignor,” I answered, “because wine is not produced in my northern native land, and the people are poor rather than rich. Nevertheless wine never fails, even for the very poorest, at the commemoration festival of the Lord.”
But it would be extending the subject too far to enumerate all the points which came under our discussion and on which we differed. Persons, such as Madame de M——, the tall, enthusiastic nun of the Sacré Cœur, give me a stronger feeling of the peculiar advantages of Catholicism than these learned prelates.
During Lent, the French sermons in San Luigi di Françesi commenced; in the first place by a French preacher whose name was St. Paul, and afterwards by the Carmelite monk Marie Louis. The former had talent and zeal, but no gifts in comparison with the latter. The former was a fervent and castigating preacher who zealously enforced general confession. “The fully-accomplished duty of honest confession was,” he reported, “sufficient for the sanctification of the world.” He was also a zealous advocate of the holy obligation of missionary labor.
“Protestant Christians,” he exclaimed, “give annually forty millions of francs for this work, and Catholic laymen, oh shame! only four!”
The white foam flew around his lips in his fervor as he preached.
The Carmelite monk spoke in a calmer strain; he
