e gnaws me and
shows me the secrets of my heart. Avarice constrains me, concupiscence
befouls me, gluttony disgraces me, anger torments me, inconstancy
crushes me, indolence oppresses me, hypocrisy beguiles me.... and these,
Lord, are the companions with whom I have spent my youth, these are the
friends I have known, these are the masters I have served." And further
on he exclaims, "Sin have I heaped upon sin, and the sins which I could
not commit in very deed yet have I committed by evil desire."

Durtal closed the volume, regretting that it should be so entirely
unknown to Catholics. They were all busy chewing the cud of the old hay
left at the heading or end of the "Christian's Day" or "The Eucologia,"
or meditating on the pompous prayers elaborated in the ponderous
phraseology of the seventeenth century, in which there is no accent of
sincerity to be found--nothing, not an appeal that comes from the heart,
not even a pious cry!

How far were these rhapsodies all cast in the same mould from this
penitent and simple language, from this easy and candid communion of the
soul with God?

Then Durtal dipped again here and there, and read:--

"My God and my Mercy, I am ashamed to pray to Thee for very shame of my
evil conscience; give a fountain of tears to my eyes, and my hands
largess of alms and charity; give me a seemly faith, and hope, and
abiding charity. Lord, Thou holdest no man in horror save the fool that
denies Thee. Oh, my God, the Giver of My Redemption and Receiver of my
soul, I have sinned and Thou hast suffered me!"

Then, turning over a few more pages, he came at the end of the volume to
a few passages collected by Monsieur de la Briere, among them these
reflections on the Eucharist culled from a manuscript of the fifteenth
century:--

"Not every man can assimilate this meat; some there be who eat it not,
but swallow it down in haste. It should be chewed as much as possible
with the teeth of the understanding, to the end that the sweet of its
savour be pressed out of it, and may come forth from it. Ye have heard
it said that in nature, that which is most crushed is most nourishing;
now the crushing of the teeth is our deep and keen meditation on the
Sacrament itself."

Then, after having elucidated the individual use of each tooth, the
author adds, in speaking of the fifteenth, "the Sacrament on the altar
is not merely as meat to fill and refill us; but, which is more, to make
us divine."

"Lord!