he say, "I have seen other manner of cold than this." Thus, when he even groaned under the voluntary burden of a world of most cruel mortifications, and was questioned how it was possible for a weak and broken body like his to undergo such austerities, "Alas! my dear brethren," would he still say, "I have seen far greater austerities than these: they are but roses and perfumes in comparison of what I have seen in the subterraneous lakes of Purgatory." And in these kinds of austerities he spent the remainder of his life and made a holy end, and purchased an eternal paradise, for having had but a sight of the pains of Purgatory. And we, dear Christians, if we believed in good earnest, or could but once procure to have a true sight or apprehension of them, should certainly have other thoughts and live in another fashion than we do. (Pp. 44-46.) * * * * * Now, would you clearly see how the souls can at the same instant swim in a paradise of delights and yet be overwhelmed with the hellish torments of Purgatory? Cast your eyes upon the holy martyrs of God's Church, and observe their behavior. They were torn, mangled, dismembered, flayed alive, racked, broiled, burnt--and tell me, was not this to live in a kind of hell? And yet, in the very height of their torments their hearts and souls were ready to leap for joy; you would have taken them to be already transported into heaven. Hear them but speak for themselves. "O lovely cross," cried out St. Andrew, "made beautiful by the precious Body of Christ, how long have I desired thee, and with what care have I sought thee! and now, that I have found thee, receive me into thine arms, and lift me up to my dear Redeemer! O death, [1] how amiable art thou in my eyes, and how sweet is thy cruelty!" "Your coals," said St. Cecily, "your flaming firebrands, and all the terrors of death, are to me but as so many fragrant roses and lilies, sent from heaven." "Shower down upon me," cried St. Stephen, "whole deluges of stones, whilst I see the heavens open and Jesus Christ standing at the right side of His Eternal Father, to behold the fidelity of His champion." "Turn," exclaimed St. Lawrence, "oh! turn, the other side, thou cruel tyrant, this is already broiled, and cooked fit for thy palate. Oh, how well am I pleased to suffer this little Purgatory for the love of my Saviour!" "Make haste, O my soul," cried St. Agnes, "to cast thyself upon the bed of flames which thy dear Spouse has prepared for thee!" "Oh," cried St. Felicitas, and the mother of the Machabees, "Oh, that I had a thousand children, or a thousand lives, to sacrifice them all to my God. What a pleasure it is to suffer for so good a cause!" "Welcome tyrants, tigers, lions," writes St. Ignatius the Martyr; "let all the torments that the devils can invent come upon me, so I may enjoy my Saviour. I am the wheat of Christ; oh, let me be ground with the lions' teeth. Now I begin indeed