which they were burning with zeal to save? One said: “Sir, please repeat after me, with heart more than with lips, the words: My God I believe in Thee!” The sick man answered: “I think the wheat crop will be a failure; my barns are full, so that they require to have two arches and buttresses built on to them. The price of corn has gone up very high; wheat costs two gulden the measure; I believe I shall succeed in emptying my barns and filling my coffers with money.” “For God’s sake,” said the other priest, “raise your heart and mind to heaven; look at your crucified Redeemer; here He is before your eyes!” “Yes,” said the sick man, “that crucifix is made of silver; in these days we can be sure of no one; even in one’s own house there may be thieves; we cannot be too careful; there are rascals who would steal Our Lord Himself if He were made of silver; son, take the crucifix and lock it up. But where” are the keys? I had them under my pillow; some one must have taken them away, wretched man that I am! I see how it is! I am betrayed, and robbed!” “My dear father,” answered the son, “here are the keys; no one has taken them; do not annoy yourself so much about them.” “Oh,” said the dying man, “it is easy for you to talk! You are a religious and provided for. I know better and have had experience of the labor and trouble it takes to put a trifle together.” The third priest read an act of contrition for him, and asked him to repeat after him the words: my God! I am sorry from my heart that I have ever offended Thee by my sins! Whereupon the dying man said: “I am sorry, ah, bitterly sorry, that I have lent such a large sum of money to that untrustworthy fellow! He promised to pay me in a certain time; but the time is long since past, and he has not given me a penny. It is a dead loss to me! How could I have been so silly, so imprudent as to trust him!” Continuing to make those beautiful acts of faith, hope, charity and contrition, he at last gave up the ghost. What do you think of this incident, my dear brethren? Are you surprised at its tragical termination? I arn not a bit; for you cannot expect any other wine out of a vessel but that which was poured into it. Such, too, was the end of an unhappy young man. Standing by his bedside were his mother, a pious, virtuous lady, and her other children, brothers of the sick man, who were all priests and confessors. The dying man wept bitterly, not on account of his past sins, nor through love of God or hope in Him, but through love of
