forward to a life of multiplying usefulness and of sacerdotal perfection. All at once, as a tree breaks asunder and shows decay at the heart, he falls, or little by little the leaves grow pale and droop, and a sickliness which none can understand overspreads the tree. Some secret temptation, some perilous allurement, some unchastened intimacy, some clouding of the conscience, some relaxation of rule, some neglect of self-examination, some omissions of prayer, some fatal opportunity, when conscience is silenced, and the will is weak and the temptation strong—then comes the first fall, after which to fall again and again is easy. The gulf is passed, and he enters upon an unknown world ubi nullus ordo et umbra mortis. He wonders to find himself in a state so strange and new, and to be so little afraid. Once he thought that after such a fall he should have died; but now he finds his life whole in him. And God only, and one more, know the truth, and the truth need never come out. The seal of confession will cover it; and outwardly he is the same man—priest and pastor. Who shall know it if he do not betray himself? To shrink from work, to cease to be seen and heard, would call attention and awaken curiosity. He goes on as before, or rather he is more seen and more heard than ever. Nobody
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