in the midst of the luxuries of Rome! I sate alone, for I was full of bitterness. My misshapen limbs were rough with sackcloth, and my skin so squalid that I might have been mistaken for an Ethiopian. Tears and groans were my occupation every day and all day long. If sleep surprised me unawares, my naked bones, which scarcely held together, rattled on the earth.’ His companions, he says, ‘were scorpions and wild beasts;’ his home, ‘a recess among rocks and precipices.’ Yet, in the midst of this horrible self-torture and self-abasement, he describes himself as frequently beset by temptations to sin and sensual indulgence, and haunted by demons: at other times, as consoled by voices and visions from heaven. Besides these trials of the flesh and the spirit, he had others of the intellect. His love of learning, his admiration of the great writers of classical antiquity,—of Plato and Cicero,—made him impatient of the rude simplicity of the Christian historians. He describes himself as fasting before he opened Cicero; and, as a further penance, he forced himself to study Hebrew, which at first filled him with disgust, and this disgust appeared to him a capital sin. In one of his distempered visions, he fancied he heard the last trumpet sounded in his ear by an angel, and summoning him before the judgment-seat of God. ‘Who art thou?’ demanded the awful voice. ‘A Christian,’ replied the trembling Jerome. ‘‘Tis false!’ replied the voice, ‘thou art no Christian: thou art a Ciceronian. Where the treasure is, there will the heart be also.’ He persevered, and conquered the difficulties of Hebrew; and then, wearied by the religious controversies in the East, after ten years’ residence there, he returned to Rome. But neither the opposition he had met with, nor his four years of solitude and penance in the desert, had subdued the fiery enthusiasm of temperament which characterised this celebrated man. At Rome he boldly combated the luxurious self-indulgence of the clergy, and preached religious abstinence and mortification. He was particularly remarkable for the influence he obtained over the Roman women; we find them, subdued or excited by his eloquent exhortations, devoting themselves to perpetual chastity, distributing their possessions among the poor, or spending their days in attendance on the sick, and ready to follow their teacher to the Holy Land—to the desert—even to death. His most celebrated female convert was Paula, a noble Roman matron, a descendant of the Scipios and the Gracchi. Marcella, another of these Roman ladies, was the first who, in the East, collected together a number of pious women to dwell together in community: hence she is, by some authors, considered as the first nun; but others contend that Martha, the sister of Mary Magdalene, was the first who founded a religious community of women.