We are told that few of those who save their souls, except children who have not lost their baptismal innocence, go to heaven without passing through purgatory. How many are surprised by death in venial sin! how many who receive forgiveness for the guilt of mortal sin still owe some temporal debt for it! how few leave this life without some stain on their souls! Yet every stain must be wiped away, every farthing of the debt paid, before the soul can leave the prison of purgatory. We have no time to lose, death may be at our doors. Why not now use the means of avoiding purgatory? Why do we count a suffering in the future which in the present we would be in no way ready to accept, but would employ every effort to escape? How soon must we leave this world never to return! How soon will day and night have no meaning for us! Our bodies, mouldered into dust, will come to life again only at the sound of the last trumpet, and then only for judgment. Friends who love us, possessions on which we have set our hearts, will be taken from us. We will leave as we came, alone. Why, then, attach ourselves to those things in such a way as to bring upon us the displeasure of God, and the sufferings which His displeasure entails? Better far to live here with the thought of the bitterness which goes with wrongdoing and a sense of security for the future, than thoughtlessly to incur the punishment which is to be found in purgatory. Prayer. Release, O Lord, etc., etc. Third Day. The earth is only a vast cemetery. Our ancestors are mixed up with its clay, whether they lie beneath the surface or have had their ashes scattered to the four winds. How soon were they forgotten! Of all the generations which have gone before us how few individuals are known! Of some history tells the noble deeds, of others the dark ones. The really wise and great men of every age are the virtuous, now the friends of God. Their names come down to us in benediction. History may record the names of the wicked, but their memory is held in execration. What matters it to all those who are dead whether men speak of them or not? The one thing of importance is how God has regarded their lives. We too will soon be forgotten. The birds that will sing near our graves will be listened to and admired by the visitor to the cemetery, but we will not receive even a passing thought. Even those for whom our hearts throbbed with anxiety, those for whose happiness we strove with so much labor, will scarcely think of us. We will have been gathered to the dead, our term of activity will have passed, our day will have ended, and with it all interest in us will also end. We will be one of the millions laid away in the cemetery. Has this thought no meaning for us? It ought to suggest the importance of giving more attention to that which God had in view in creating us. Not ambitious of what men may think of us, but ambitious of securing that