"Thus was this good man rewarded for his confidence in the Souls in Purgatory, and such was his gratitude to them."--_Almanac of the Souls in Purgatory, 1877_. ANECDOTE OF THE "DE PROFUNDIS." I once heard an anecdote of a good priest who was in the habit of saying the De Profundis every day for the Souls in Purgatory, but, happening one day to omit it, either through inadvertence or press of occupation, he was passing through a cemetery about the close of day, when he suddenly heard, through the hushed silence of the lonely place and the solemn evening's hour, a mournful voice repeating the first words of the beautiful psalm--_De Profundis clamavit Domini_--then it stopped, but the priest, as soon as he had recovered from the first shock, and remembering with bitter self-reproach his omission, took up the words where the supernatural voice had left off, and finished the recitation of the _De Profundis_, resolving, as he did so, that, for the time to come, nothing should prevent him from reciting it every day, and more than once in the day, for the benefit of the dear suffering Souls. A STRANGE OCCURRENCE IN A PERSIAN PRISON. There is a very strange story concerning Purgatory related by St. John the Almoner, Patriarch of Alexandria, in the end of the sixth and the beginning of the seventh century. A little before a great mortality which took place in that city, several inhabitants of the Island of Cyprus were carried off to Persia and cast into a prison so severe that it was called the _Oblivion_. Some of them, however, succeeded in making their escape and returned to their own country. A father and mother, whose son had been carried off with the others, asked them for tidings of their son. "Alas!" said they, "your son died on such a day; we ourselves had the sad consolation of giving him burial." The poor parents hastened then to have a solemn service performed for the repose of his soul; this they had done three times every year, continuing in prayer for the same intention. But, marvellous to relate! one day this son, so much regretted, so fondly remembered, came knocking at their door and threw himself into their arms. He had been supposed dead for four years, yet was really alive, he whom the other prisoners had buried having had a great resemblance to him, that is all. "How! is it really thou, dear son? Oh! how we mourned for thee! Three times every year we had a solemn service for thee." "On what days?" eagerly demanded the son. "On the holy days of Christmas, Easter, and Pentecost." "Precisely!" he exclaimed; "on those very days I saw, each time, an officer radiant with light, who came to me and taking off my chains, opened the doors of my prison. I went forth into the city, walked wherever I wished, without any one appearing to notice me; only, in the evening, I always found myself miraculously chained in my dungeon. It was the fruit of your good prayers, and if I had been in