a conversion. Understanding that
this soldier was embarking on one of the foysts, which were going to join
the fleet, he went out of the college of St Paul, at the first notice of
it, taking nothing with him besides his breviary, and entered into the
same vessel. It was believed by those who saw the Father, that he had
orders from the viceroy to accompany his son Alvarez; and every one was
glad of it, excepting only he, for whose sake he came. He drew near the
soldier, and when they had weighed anchor, began to make acquaintance
with him, and grew familiar to that degree, that the rest of the
soldiers, who were less debauched, could not sufficiently admire it; and
some of them said of Xavier, what a Pharisee said formerly of our Lord,
"If this man were indeed a prophet, he would discern what manner of man
he was, in whom he takes so much delight."

These discourses did not at all daunt the Father. He saw his soldier
playing whole nights together, for he was a great gamester. He took no
notice of his extravagancies, and sometimes heard him swear without
seeming to regard it. Only one day he said to him, that gaming required a
composed spirit, and if he took not the better heed, that passion, which
he had in play, would make him lose.

The soldier, brutal as he was, grew insensibly to have a kindness for a
man, who was so much concerned in his advantages, and took pleasure in
hearing him discourse not only of war, and sea affairs, but also of
religion and morality. In conclusion, he made some reflections on the
horror of his life, and felt even some remorse of conscience for it.
Being one day together with the Father, in a private part of the ship,
Xavier asked him, to whom he had confessed himself before he went on
shipboard? "Ah Father," said the soldier, "I have not been at confession
these many years!" "And what do you imagine would become of you," said
the holy man, "supposing you should be killed in this action, and in the
condition you now are?" "I would once have confessed myself," replied the
soldier, "at least for fashion and decency, but the vicar of Goa would
not so much as hear me, but told me I was a reprobate, and deserved
nothing but hell-fire." "The vicar was, in my opinion," said Xavier,
"somewhat too severe, to treat you in that manner. He had perhaps his
reasons for that usage, and I have mine to treat you otherwise. For
indeed the mercies of our Lord are infinite, and God would have us as
indulgent t