She saw the deceitful pleasures, the snares and thorns, the inevitable evils that show themselves at every step, and the dangers that at every moment threaten the soul with ruin. On the other hand, she perceived the great advantages that result from separating one's self from the world; she recalled all the spiritual joy and interior consolation she experienced during the time she lived in retirement in her home, and she therefore felt herself more firmly grounded in her determination to flee for ever from the tumult of worldlings. The solitude which formed the object of her desires, and in which she resolved to offer to God the holocaust of her virginity, was the convent of Cascia, where she afterwards lived and died, called at that time St. Mary Magdalen's, and occupied then, as well as now, by nuns of the Order of St. Augustine. This pious project had been for some time maturing in her mind, and although she was hardly twelve years of age she determined to carry it into effect without any of those wearisome delays which the grace of the Holy Spirit knows not of, which belong to certain weak and hesitating souls that cannot break the world's ties, or those of vain fear, when God calls them to a state of perfection. Although Rita then heard the call of her Divine Lover, she did not know the time He had fixed for the fulfilling of her wishes, but, overcome by a holy impatience, she resolved to make known to her parents her desire for a religious life. Who can tell what struggles the voice of nature must have caused in her soul at this crisis, as she thought that she was for ever about to separate herself from the side of her dearly loved and aged parents? Even the saints feel the strength of nature, but, like giants, they pass on to triumphs in the kingdom of grace. Thus Rita acted. She shut her ears to the insinuating voice of flesh and blood, informed her parents of her religious vocation, and humbly and fervently begged their leave to obey the voice of God. When they heard their daughter express such a wish, Antonio and Amata, pious though they were, did not hide their sorrow and the trouble they felt. They besought with tears that their only child, the one object of their tenderest love, their only prop and consolation, should not abandon them in their old age. Their tearful pleading, acting on the filial love and obedience which filled Rita's heart, prevailed on her to put off for a better time the fulfilment of her noble purpose. Being so far successful, her parents turned their attention to providing a husband for her, in order both to make sure of retaining her society and her assistance that had become necessary to them, and to save their family from extinction; and they fixed their eyes on a young man called, according to some, Ferdinand, and to others Paul. But old eyes do not always see clearly. The young man whom they selected was impulsive and irascible, with a character formed amid the savage