But believe me, these duties performed as well as I am able to perform them, promotions, honors--afterward they will be as nothing compared with what is dear to me as a woman. Through all this violence and carnage and misery I know that I shall have gained in all that becomes a woman--in faithfulness, tenderness, pity for the poor and unfortunate, and in charity. AN ITALIAN SOLDIER'S LAST MESSAGE TO HIS MOTHER _Translated by Father Pasquale Maltese_ This is an extraordinary revelation of the heart of an Italian soldier. It is the last letter to his mother written by a young poet who fell on the Isonzo leading a platoon in battle. Father Pasquale Maltese, pastor of the church of St. Anthony, New York, translates it for _The Parish Monthly_ as an "inspiration to the youth of every land." I--"TO DIE A BEAUTIFUL AND GLORIOUS DEATH" MOTHER: This letter, which you will receive only in case that I should fall in this battle, I am writing in an advanced trench, where I have been since last night, with my soldiers, in expectation of the order to cross the river and move to the attack. I am calm, perfectly serene, and firmly resolved to do my duty in full and to the last, like a brave and good soldier, confident to the utmost of our final unfailing victory; although I am not equally sure that I will live to see it. But this uncertainty does not trouble me in the least, nor has it any terror for me. I am happy in offering my life to my country; I am proud to spend it for so noble a purpose, and I know not how to thank Divine Providence for the opportunity--which I deem an honor--afforded me, on this fulgent autumnal day, in the midst of this enchanting valley of our Julian Venetia, while I am in the prime of life, in the fulness of my physical and mental powers, to fight in this holy war for liberty and justice. All is propitious to me, all is favorable to die a beautiful and glorious death; the weather, the place, the season, the opportunity, the age. A better end could not have crowned my life, and I feel the pleasure to have made a good and generous use of it. Do not grieve over my death, mother, or else you will offend my good fortune. Do not weep, mother, for it was written in Heaven that I should die. Do not mourn, mother, or else you would regret my happiness. I am not to be mourned but envied. You know the ineffable hopes that give me comfort because they are the very same hopes in which you also have placed all that is dear to you. When you read these words of mine, I will be free, unfettered and in a safe place, far from the miseries of this world. My struggle will be finished and I shall be peaceful; my daily death shall have come to an end, and I shall have reached the place on high, to the life without end. I shall be face to face with the Judge whom I have greatly feared, to the Lord whom I have greatly loved.