'After finishing his Office, the good Priest went to the street named, and entered No. 18, thinking this was the number mentioned. It was a wretched house, and as there was no one in charge of the door he walked in, groped up the poor staircase, and knocked at the first door that he came to. A man opened it, and at the sight of the ecclesiastical dress, fell into a passion, and to the inquiry made as to whether this were the house of the sick lady, he made an impudent answer, and shut the door in the face of the Priest. Patient and mild, like his Divine Master, the Priest knocked at the next door, and met with no better reception. He then went up to the second story, where he found a boy playing in a passage. "Can you tell me, my child," said he, "where I can find a poor lady dangerously ill, who lives in this house, and is called G---?" "Yes; down there, Reverend Sir; my father said that she would not be able to live through the night; but I do not think that you have said her name correctly." "Never mind the name; lead me, I beg of you, to her door." 'The Priest, preceded by the child, entered the room and found a woman in her agony; a man about fifty was sitting near her bed, and at the sight of the Priest he immediately arose, evidently annoyed. "Are you Mr. G?---" said the Priest; "how is your sick wife?" "No," replied the man bluntly, "I am not; who has sent you here to meddle with other people's affairs?" "I was requested to come," replied the Priest with surprise. "I was told that a poor lady, named G---, was seriously ill, and wished for the last consolations of religion. I may have mistaken the street, or the house, or room; but undoubtedly this sick woman has much need of my ministry. The Divine Mercy has certainly led me here, and allowed this mistake to occur." "Yes, man of God!" murmured the dying woman, "yes, it is God Who has led you hither." "Nothing of the sort," said the husband angrily; "for ten years no Priest has set his foot in my house; you shall not confess my wife. I am her master; mind your own business." "You are much mistaken, sir," answered the Priest, firmly and mildly; "the first Master of your wife is God, and you have no right over her soul. If she desire, I shall hear her confession, and I can only withdraw when she freely and of her own will refuses my ministry." Then, approaching the sick woman, he said: "Madam, do you desire to be reconciled with God, and die a Christian death?" The poor woman raised her hands to heaven, and shed tears of joy, exclaiming: "Blessed be the Divine Goodness that has allowed this mistake! for three days I have been asking my husband for a Priest, and he has answered me only with insults. I do truly wish to be reconciled to my God, Who has had so much compassion on my poor soul." "Do you hear, sir?" said the Priest to the husband; "be pleased to leave me alone with her for a few moments." These words, pronounced with much