As a young parish priest at Salzano, Giuseppe Sarto during the cholera epidemic of 1873 had been the stay and comfort of his people. Consoling the grief-stricken, nursing the sick, burying the dead, utterly regardless of his own safety, his one thought had been for his suffering parishioners. This compassion for every kind of pain or sorrow was characteristic of him throughout his life. Not without reason was it said that he had "the greatest heart of any man alive." The very sight of suffering moved him to tears; there was no trouble of body or soul that failed to awaken his sympathy. While patriarch of Venice he was walking one day through one of the poorest quarters of the city when suddenly from a house at the end of a mean street arose the piercing cries of a child who was being cruelly beaten by its mother. The cardinal strode down the street and pulled the bell vigorously. A window opened overhead and from it appeared the head of a. woman, a regular virago, crimson with fury "Stop beating that child at once!" was the indignant mandate. The woman, astounded at seeing the patriarch standing on her doorstep, shut the window in confusion. For some time there was no more beating. Anything like tyranny roused his instant indignation. When reports too circumstantial to be doubted reached him about the condition of certain Indian tribes in South America and of the atrocious treatment to which they were forced to submit, the bishops of the country were exhorted to do their utmost to put an end to what was nothing less than a cruel slavery. "Every day I receive fresh news of the persecution in Asia Minor and in Macedonia," he said one day sorrowfully at a private audience. "How many poor Christians are massacred! What cowardice and what barbarity are shown by this Sultan, who trembles with fright and begs that he may not be put to death, who is always whining 'I have never done anyone any harm!' He had in his palace a secret room in which he himself killed his victims, where only a week ago he put a young girl to death!" These were some of the sorrows that wrung the heart of him "who bore the care of all the churches." All the calamities that befell the world awakened his sympathy, earthquakes, floods, fires, railway accidents . . . . The sufferers were comforted not only with kind words but with material help. Even the papers least favourable to the Church noticed his personal fatherly interest in the joys and sorrows of his people. His appeal to the charity of Catholics on the occasion of the Calabrian earthquake in 1908, which in a few moments totally destroyed Messina, Reggio, Sille and the surrounding villages, burying more than 100,000 people in the ruins, met with a magnificent response. The sum of 7 million francs which was generously offered served to supply the immediate needs of the survivors, who in many cases were left totally destitute.