and Appia, were the dear pupils of the great St. Paul; as St. Mark and St. Petronilla were of St. Peter?—St. Petronilla, I say, who, as Baronius and Galonius learnedly prove, was not St. Peter's real, but only his spiritual daughter. And does not St. John write one of his canonical epistles to the devout Lady Electa?
It is painful, I confess, to direct souls in particular; but it is a pain that gives comfort, like that which is felt by the labourers in the harvest and vintage; who are never better pleased than when they have most to do, and when their burdens are the heaviest. It is a labour which refreshes and revives the heart, by the sweet delights it brings to those that are engaged therein; as the cinnamon does to those that carry it through Arabia Felix. It is said that when the tigress finds one of her whelps, which the huntsman leaves in her way to amuse her, whilst he carries off the rest of the litter, she loads herself with it, be it ever so big, and yet does not feel herself more heavy, but rather lighter in the course she makes to leave it safe in her den, natural love making her burden more easy: how much more willingly, then, will a fatherly heart take charge of a soul in which he has found a desire for holy perfection; carrying it
