“Do you then discharge our duty to the kind and pious
benefactors who do not forget the suffering spouses of Our
Lord in times when so many hate and illtreat them, and seek
new means to render them, if that were possible, unhappy. But
that can never happen, because it is our greatest felicity
to be hated by the enemies of Jesus Christ. At present we
are prohibited to receive young-lady boarders, who, by their
payments for education, might help us not a little in our
misery. But we confide in the good, generous hearts who come to
our assistance.”
On the 17th of May, from the ends of Italy, the following letter came to
us:—
“On Tuesday I received, as a consoling angel, your letter with
the bountiful alms it contained. What my joy was on that day
I cannot tell you. I seemed like one confounded to such an
extent that my nuns understood that some extraordinary grace
had been given me by our great Patriarch St. Joseph. When I
told them what had been given they were in jubilee at it, and
I cannot tell you how many prayers and fervent communions will
be offered, and have indeed been offered already to God for
those who have been so kind to us. Oh, my Father, if you but
knew what my sorrow had been that day. An implacable creditor
pressed me, and I had not on that day one loaf of bread to take
the hunger away from my poor community. My Father, I cannot
tell you what terrible hours I passed. During certain days I
felt as if a knife had pierced my heart. I wept scalding tears,
and almost lost confidence. Ah, Father, do not forget us, for
charity sake, I beseech you, with all my heart.”
A few days after this (for we take the letters at hap-hazard as they come
to our hand) we received another, which thus commences:—
“Oh, my Father, how much am I obliged to you. You have called
me to life again. I went to ask the Archangel Raphael to be
mindful of us, poor deserted sisters, and the holy Archangel
heard me! Wherefore may God be blessed, and thanks without end
for your charity and that of our benefactors. See how wanting
in discretion I am, my Father, the more you are mindful of us,
the most distressed of all. I do not wish to be importunate.
That would not be well. But our misery surpasses perhaps the
misery of other convents. All my poor lay sisters are long
barefooted, and I cannot get them shoes, for I have no means to
buy leather. We, the choir sisters, wear clogs of wood, which,
when once made, last very long; but our poor lay sisters work
very hard, and wear away their clothing very much.”