Purgatory by Mary Anne Madden Sadlier

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"Each one of our party had kept exterior silence, but inwardly put his
trust in the Most High. At last, Luigi halted. His horses were white
with foam, and panting as if they would never breathe naturally again.

"A miracle!" cried Luigi, signing himself with the mystic Sign; "may
God and Our Lady be praised! I tell you, Fathers, it is a miracle that
we are not dead men!" "'Indeed, a very special protection of Divine
Providence said the superior _pro tem_.; 'and we must all thank
God with our whole hearts.'

"'I tell you,' broke in Luigi, 'those were horrible men; I never saw
any look fiercer.'

"'Then, as soon as your horses are able, we had better move on. Shall
you be obliged to change them before we get to our proposed stopping-
place?' asked the superior.

"'Oh, we must not stop to change! we should be tracked by some of their
spies. We had better go on; and, as the road descends gently, I think
this team will make the remainder of the route.'

"'Well,' said our superior, as we re-entered the coach, 'we must all
offer a Mass in thanksgiving to-morrow;' to which we all heartily
assented, and found subject for conversation the rest of the way in
recalling the particulars of our wondrous escape.

"Holy obedience afterwards stationed me," continued the Reverend
Father, "at the Gesu. About two years later, I was called upon to
instruct a prisoner condemned to capital punishment. 'He appears to
have been a desperate man,' said the jailer, as he drew aside the
enormous bolts of iron that held fast the door of a corridor leading to
a dismal dungeon; 'now, however, he is a little subdued; he even seems
contrite at times, and I hope he will die penitent.'

"I visited the prisoner several times; he was always glad to see me,
but it cost him a great effort to open his heart, and make a full
confession. His birth and parentage, and advantages for a liberal
education, should have brought him to a widely-different destiny. He
had loved adventure naturally, but had taken a wrong direction. He
might have become a famous military man, whereas he was only a rough,
desperate highwayman. To win him to God, I began to listen to
narratives of his wild brigand exploits. I affected to be interested in
these daring adventures, and then succeeded in pointing out to him the
sin that abounded in each and every act. One day, as he was speaking of
the latest years of his life, I was greatly surprised to hear him
recount the identical incident with which I began my story. He
described to me in the most graphic terms the wonderful manner in which
his hands and those of his comrades had been held by an invisible,
irresistible power, saying that they had returned to their mountain
haunts perfectly dismayed; that some of them appeared to have a vague
and conscientious alarm, though revelry and song soon banished such
misgivings. He told me that they knew the carriage was full of Jesuit
priests, and that they had been promised a great pecuniary reward by a
prominent member of the Freemason Society if they should succeed in
seizing our luggage.

"I then made known to my penitent my share in that providential escape;
he at once fell on his knees, wept long and bitterly, and finally asked
my forgiveness. I prepared him for his dreadful end, and believe he
died at peace with God, so great is the mercy of Jesus to the contrite
soul, 'even though his sins be as scarlet.' I asked his permission to
narrate the particulars of his portion of the story, and he gladly gave
it, hoping to merit something for his sin-burdened soul by that act of
humility."

We were all much impressed by the Reverend Father's narrative, and as
we bade one another good-night, the doctor remarked that a kind deed
performed for others was sure to merit a blessing in return, even
though it were so small a favor as that gained by his favorite practice
of saying the _De Profundis_.

"Yes," said Father G----, "charity never fails."--_Ave Maria_,
Nov. 24th, 1883.

CONFIDENCE REWARDED.

The following fact took place in Montreal, Canada, some three or four
years since. We shall leave the zealous member of our association who
related it to us to tell his own story:

"One morning," said he, "coming back from Mass, I saw Mr. C----, who
was also coming out of the church. He was a worthy man, fearing God and
fulfilling his duties faithfully and conscientiously. I said to myself:
'There is a man who deserves to belong to our association.' For is it
not always a favor when God deems us worthy to do something for Him?

"I approached and asked him if he would not like to become a member of
our association. 'What association?' 'The Association of the Way of the
Cross and Masses. It is to relieve the dead by prayer and alms, two
powerful means.' 'Ah! I knew nothing of it. What has to be done?' 'It
suffices to make the Way of the Cross once a week and pay for a Mass
once a month.' 'I love the souls in Purgatory,' he said, 'and I do all
I can to relieve them. But, you see, things are not going well with me
just now. I have been a long time sick, and am hardly able yet to
discharge my ordinary duties.'

"At these words I cast my eyes on the speaker, and saw what I had not
before noticed, that he looked pale and worn. He went on: 'As for
paying anything, it would be impossible for me to do it; I have
contracted debts, and if my ill health should continue,' he added, in a
faltering voice, 'I shall be obliged to sell my little house.' Then he
stopped, his heart evidently full, and tears in his eyes. 'But
Providence watches over you, and nothing happens without God's good
leave. If a single hair of our head cannot fall unless He will it, what
have you to fear? Do something for God whilst you can. If you are
liberal to Him, He will be more so towards you. Do you remember the
promise Our Lord made to St. Gertrude? 'I will give an hundred-fold,'
said He, 'for all thou shalt do for my beloved ones in Purgatory.' This
promise was not for St. Gertrude alone; it was likewise for you. For
one dollar that you give, you will gain ten; and if you are resolved to
help the poor souls all you can, they will get you health to do it.'
'Ah! what you say touches me much, and truly I know not what to do.'
After a moment's hesitation, he quickly resumed: 'Well, sir, although I
am actually in distress, I am going to try; it may be the best means of
getting out of it.' 'Yes, try; we run no risk when we make the Holy
Souls our debtors.'

"At these words, he drew from his pocket a small purse which contained
only half a dollar. 'There is all my wealth, and I am happy to share it
with you,' and he gave me the stipend for a Mass. 'I will perhaps put
myself to some inconvenience in giving you that sum, trifling though it
be; but, blessed be God! I will bear with the inconvenience, thinking
that those who suffer much more than I will obtain some relief in their
cruel torments. I will also pray for them, and that they may obtain for
me the resignation which is so pleasing to God.'

"When I saw the noble sentiments of this man, I shook him by the hand,
warmly thanked him, and reminded him that God was always touched by
such acts, and that He knew how to reward them.

"From that moment, strange to say, that frail, delicate man began to
recover his strength, work came back to his shop, and everything grew
brighter around him. And, as an additional reward from Heaven, he was
animated by a new zeal for the Holy Souls, for he not only paid his own
little contribution regularly, but he also collected the money for as
many Masses as he could on one side and another.

"Six or seven months thus passed away amid ever increasing prosperity,
when one day he said to me in presence of several persons: 'Last
autumn, before I gave my name to the Association for the Souls in
Purgatory, I was so sick and so discouraged that I thought I should
die; but when I had paid for my first Mass, from that moment, as all
may see, my health began to return, and with it my courage. To-day, as
you see, I am perfectly well. Moreover, I have found means to pay off
one hundred and fifty dollars of debt, and to have fifty dollars' worth
of repairs made to my little house. How has all that been done? I know
not: for you will admit that, by a poor shoemaker such as I, who works
at his bench and without even an apprentice, after such a hard winter,
and without any advance before me, to find means, despite all that, to
provide for the support of his family and pay two hundred dollars over
and above, is something extraordinary.

"'But I know well to whom I owe it all; hence,' he added, with a smile,
'that has given me new zeal. Now, I work not only for myself; every
evening I go out collecting for our good Souls in Purgatory, and,
blessed be God! I have got one hundred and fifty dollars for the
Association of Masses. Have I not, sir?' he added, addressing the
treasurer, who was present.

"'Yes, you have, indeed, collected one hundred and fifty dollars,
perhaps something more, by twenty-five cents here and twenty-five cents
there, with a perseverance and a zeal beyond all praise, and well
deserving of the favors you have received.'

"'Ah!' said this worthy man, so admirable in his simplicity and the
fervor of his conviction, 'it is that I still desire something; I now
expect that they will make me better,' and he sighed.

"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
Purgatory, they would have served at the same time to relieve me; I
beseech you not to forget me when the good God shall see fit to call me
to Himself."--_Leontius, Life of St. John the Almoner._

A SWISS PROTESTANT CONVERTED BY THE DOCTRINE OF PURGATORY.

I have somewhere read, says a Catholic writer, that a Swiss Protestant
was converted to the true religion solely on account of our having the
consoling doctrine of Purgatory, whereas Protestants will not admit of
it. He was a Lutheran somewhat advanced in age, and he had a brother
who passed for a worthy man, as the world goes, but had also the
misfortune of being a Protestant. He fell sick, and notwithstanding the
care of several physicians, died, and was buried by a Protestant
minister of Berne. His death was a terrible blow to the brother of whom
I speak. Hoping to dissipate his grief he tried travelling, but the
thought of his brother's eternal destiny pursued him everywhere. He one
day, on board a steamer, made the acquaintance of a Catholic priest,
with whom he entered into conversation. Confidence was soon established
between them; they spoke of death, and the afflicted traveller asked
the priest what he thought of it. "What I think is this," replied the
priest: "When a man has perfectly discharged all his duties to God, his
neighbor and himself, he goes straight to heaven; if he have not
discharged them, or have neglected any of those which are essential, he
goes straight to hell; but if he have only to reproach himself with
those trifling faults which are inseparable from our frail nature, he
spends some time in Purgatory." At these words the listener smiled with
evident relief and satisfaction; he felt consoled. "Sir," cried he, "I
will become a Catholic, and for this reason: Protestants only admit of
heaven and hell; but, in order to get to Paradise, one must have
nothing wherewith to reproach himself. Now, although my brother was a
good man, he was by no means free from those slight faults of which you
spoke just now. He will not be damned for these faults, but they will
prevent him from going to heaven; there must, therefore, be an
intermediate place wherein to expiate them; hence, there must be a
Purgatory. I will be a Catholic, so as to have the consolation of
praying for my brother."--_The Catechism in Examples_, pp. 141-2.

THE DEAD HAND.

SISTER TERESA MARGARET GESTA was struck by apoplexy on the 4th of
November, 1859, without any premonitory symptoms to forewarn her of her
danger; and, without recovering consciousness, she breathed her last at
four o'clock in the afternoon of the same day. Her companions were
plunged into the deepest sorrow, for the Sister was a general favorite;
but they resigned themselves to the will of God. Whilst lamenting the
death of one who had been to them a model, comforter, and mother, they
consoled themselves by the remembrance of the virtues of which she was
a splendid example, and of which they never tired speaking.

Twelve days had passed since her death. Some of the Sisters felt a
certain kind of dread of going alone to the places frequented by the
departed one; but Sister Anna Felix Menghini, a person of a lively and
pleasant disposition, often rallied them, good-humoredly, on their
fears.

About ten o'clock in the forenoon, this same Sister Anna, having charge
of the clothing, was proceeding to the work-room. Having gone up-
stairs, she heard a mournful voice, which at first she thought might be
that of a cat shut up in the clothes-press. She opened and examined it
carefully, but found nothing. A sudden and unaccountable feeling of
terror came over her, and she cried out: "Jesus, Mary, what can it be?"
She had hardly uttered these words when she heard the same mournful
voice as at first, which exclaimed in a gasping sob: "O my God, how I
suffer!" The religious, though surprised and trembling, recognized
distinctly the voice of Sister Teresa; she plucked up courage and asked
her "Why?"

"On account of poverty," answered the voice.

"What!" replied Sister Anna, "and you were so poor!"

"Not for me," was answered, "but for the nuns.... If one is enough, why
two? and if two are sufficient, why three?... And you--beware for
yourself."

At the same time the whole room was darkened by a thick smoke, and the
shadow of Sister Teresa, moving towards the exit, went up the steps,
talking as it moved. Sister Anna was so frightened that she could not
make out what the spirit said. Having reached the door, the apparition
spoke again: "This is a mercy of God!" And in proof of the reality,
with its open hand it struck the upper panel of the door near the
frame, leaving the impression of the hand more perfect than it could
have been made by the most skillful artist with a hot iron.

Sister Anna was like Balthasar: "Then was the King's countenance
changed, and his thoughts troubled him; and the joints of his loins
were loosed, and his knees struck one against the other." (Dan., v. 6).
She could not stir for a considerable time; she did not even dare to
turn her head. But at last she tottered out and called one of her
companions, who, hearing her feeble, broken words, ran to her with
another Sister; and presently the whole community was gathered round in
alarm. They learned in a confused manner what had taken place,
perceived the smell of burnt wood, and noticed a whitish cloud or mist
that filled the room and made it almost dark. They examined the door
carefully though tremblingly, and recognized the fac-simile of Sister
Teresa's hand; and, filled with terror, they fled to the choir.

There the Sisters, forgetting the need of food and rest, remained in
prayer till after sunset, abandoning everything in their anxiety to
procure relief for their beloved Sister Teresa. The zealous Minorite
Fathers, who have the spiritual direction of the convent, learning what
had happened, were equally earnest in offering prayers and sacrifice,
and in singing the psalms for the dead. Many of the faithful likewise
assembling, not through idle curiosity, but out of genuine piety,
joined in the recitation of the Rosary and other prayers, though the
deceased Sister was almost entirely unknown to the people. Her
observance of the rule was very strict, and she scrupulously avoided
all intercourse with people outside her convent. But still large
numbers crowded to join in those devotions for her.

Sister Anna, who was more worn out by excitement than the other
religious, was directed to retire early the following night. She
herself confesses that she was fully resolved next day to remove, at
any cost, the obnoxious marks of the hand. But Sister Teresa appeared
to her in a dream, saying: "You intend to remove the sign which I have
left. Know that it is not in your power to do so, even with the aid of
others; for it is there by the command of God, for the instruction of
the people. By His just and inexorable judgment I was condemned to the
dreadful fires of Purgatory for forty years on account of my
condescension to the will of some of the nuns. I thank you and those
who joined in so many prayers to the Lord for me; all of which He was
pleased in His mercy to accept as suffrages for me, and especially the
Seven Penitential Psalms, which were such a relief!" And then, with a
smiling countenance, she added: "Oh! blessed rags, that are rewarded
with such rich garments! Oh! happy poverty, that brings such glory to
those who truly observe it! Alas! how many suffer irreparable loss, and
are in torments, because, under the cloak of necessity, poverty is
known and valued by few!"

Finally, Sister Anna, lying down as usual on the night of the 19th,
heard her name distinctly pronounced by Sister Teresa. She awoke, all
in a tremor, and sat up, unable to answer. Her astonishment was great
when, near the foot of the bed, she saw a globe of light that made the
cell as bright as noonday, and she heard the spirit say in a joyful
voice: "On the day of the Passion I died (on Friday), and on the day of
the Passion I go to glory.... Strength in the Cross!... Courage to
suffer!..." Then, saying three times "Adieu!" the globe was transformed
into a thin, white, shining cloud, rose towards heaven, and
disappeared.

The zealous Bishop of the diocese having heard of these events,
instituted the process of examination on the 23d of the same month. The
grave was opened in presence of a large number of persons assembled for
the occasion; the impression of the hand on the door was compared with
the hand of the dead, and both were found to correspond exactly. The
door itself was set apart in a safe place and guarded. Many persons
being anxious to see the impression, it was allowed to be visited,
after a certain lapse of time, and with due precautions, by such as had
secured the necessary permission.--_Ave Maria_, Nov. 17, 1883.

A BEAUTIFUL EXAMPLE.

The following fact is related by the Treasurer of the Association for
the Souls in Purgatory. He himself was personally cognizant of the
circumstances of the case. We leave him to speak:

"Mr.----," said he, "was one of our first and most fervent associates.
His devotedness for good works is well known, so that he is everywhere
regarded as an acquisition in all pious enterprises. His exemplary
conduct rendered him, moreover, one of the most precious auxiliaries of
the work. Hence his zeal, instead of slackening, did but go on
increasing; and whereas, in the beginning, his collection amounted only
to some dollars, after a while he often brought me forty or fifty
dollars for the suffering souls. May Heaven bless that fervent
associate, and may his example serve as a lesson to the indifferent!

"During eighteen months, or two years, this pious and zealous member
brought me every six months,--with other moneys,--the sum of fifteen
dollars which was thus periodically sent him; and each time that I
asked him whence this money came, he answered that he knew nothing of
it himself; that it was sent him by a worthy man without further
information, and so he brought it to me without asking, or knowing
anything more.

"Desirous of getting to the bottom of this mystery, I resolved to try
and find out what it meant. I, one day, asked Mr.----. to tell me the
name of this generous protector of the poor souls, for I was going to
hunt him up.--'Oh!' said he, 'it is Such-a-one; he lives a long way
off, towards Hochelaga, [1] but, indeed, I cannot tell you the exact
place.'

[Footnote 1: A suburban town or village of Montreal, situated, like the
city, on the banks of the St. Lawrence.]

"Such vague information embarrassed me no little. I, nevertheless, took
the City Directory, but, alas! there were fully twenty-five persons of
the same name. Resolved, however, to put an end to this uncertainty, I
proceeded, with the little information I had, to the place indicated to
me; I arrive at a house bearing the name of the new benefactor of our
work. I go in at a venture; it was a little shoe-store, scarcely
fifteen feet square, somewhat gloomy and not over-clean, owing,
probably, to the nature of the business carried on there; the whole
appearance of the place was, indeed, very unlike one where much money
could be made. Going in, I perceived sitting in the farther end of the
store, a man whose face was so expressive of goodness, so open and so
calm, that only a good conscience could leave so gracious an imprint on
the features, and I said to myself: 'That is he.'--Then I asked aloud:
'You are Mr. Such-a-one?'--That is my name,' he answered, with a
pleasant smile.--'But is it you who has sent us every six months for
two years, the sum of fifteen dollars,--thirty dollars a year,--for
the Souls in Purgatory, apart from your regular contribution?'--'Yes,'
said he, quietly, and still with the same smile on his lips.--'Ah!'
said I, 'we are very grateful to you, and the Holy Souls will surely be
mindful of you. I suppose you have a great compassion for those poor
souls who suffer so much, and that that inspires you with zeal, and so
you make up this sum amongst your friends and neighbors;--or they,
perhaps, bring it to your house, quarter by quarter, as is done
elsewhere?'--'No!' said he, still very quietly, 'no, it is my own
little share.'--'How! your own little share?' and instinctively I cast
a glance around the little store, which seemed hardly to justify the
giving of such a sum. 'How! your little share? but we find it a very
large and generous one, and we are happy that your zeal and charity
make it seem to you so small. Heaven will bless you for it. Still there
must be something hidden under these gifts, so often repeated; the Holy
Souls must have done you some favor. Please tell me, then, what induces
you to give so handsome a sum every year, without being asked?'

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