"Enough of thy insolence, audacious wench! I shall close thy froward mouth forever, and send another adorer of the Nazarene to Hades. Die thou shalt-but thy death shalt be inglorious. I shall have thee drowned like a kitten. In the darkness of the night I shall have thee cast into the Tiber, a stone around thy neck-and may the fishes make a meal of thy flesh! Ho, lictors, seize the witch, but take care that she escape ye not! She is a powerful sorceress. At midnight cast her into the Tiber where it is deepest."

sorry for the tender young girl," said one of the rowers; "it is sad to die when one is so young and beautiful."

"What does it concern us, Gabas," replied another; "we are used to this kind of work. For three years we have done nothing but slaughter Christians. A bad business, 'tis true; but we must make a living. We are soldiers; the murdering of Christians is one of our secondary duties. Is it our fault that Diocletian furnishes us with plenty of work? Let him answer for it. As to the maiden, it is well that she is about to find peace. Die she must, at all events, and drowning is an easy death. Take care that the anchor holds fast and that the rope does not break, so that the business may be dispatched without a hitch."

In the midst of the rough men sat Philomena with her hands tied behind her back, a rope to which was attached a huge anchor about her neck. She was pale and had her eyes closed; nature revolted at the violent death and her soul sought succor in prayer. The bark soon reached the middle of the river. Four strong hands laid hold of the virgin,

raised her gently, and let the anchor to which she was bound drop into the surging waves. A heavy fall, a gurgling sound-and all is over.

"She will not come back," remarked one of the rowers, "the anchor fell true and swiftly. Let us make for the shore to escape the storm."

A stroke of lightning at this moment lit up the darkness, and one of the nocturnal rowers cried out in alarm. "What is it?" exclaimed his companions. "Woe unto us!" he replied, full of terror. "The dead return; there is Philomena!"

"Impossible! The rope was new and strong, and the anchor heavy enough to draw down the most expert swimmer. Perhaps it is her spirit, or a spectre. Look how it shines! It moves! Let us make for the shore as fast as possible; it is not advisable to meddle with spirits and spectres."

The men made for the shore with all their might, but they found it a hard task in the furious storm, which now broke out with renewed force.

"What a storm!" observed Gabas. "It seems that heaven and earth are angered at our deed. Woe to us! Look, she is following us!"

Filled with alarm they looked in the direction in which he pointed. True enough, the shining figure seemed to follow them, and now they clearly recognized the virgin martyr. Surrounded by a supernatural light, her figure floated on the water, her face appearing above it and her hands folded on her breast. The rope and anchor had disappeared, and as if by angels' hands the saint's body was being borne toward the shore.

Scarcely had the terrified soldiers landed when. they made with all speed for the city and related their experience to their centurion. "Ye are bereft of your senses, or drunk, and did a bungling job. If ye had really drowned her she would not have come back. Your cowardice played ye a trick."

"Go and see for thyself! We did as we were ordered. The anchor was heavy enough to sink a hundred children like her, and the rope was new and strong; it could not break."

"Then she is a sorceress and freed herself by witchcraft. But it shall avail her nothing; she must die. I will go and see myself whether you were the victims of a delusion or not. Here, Sarmio, Tullus, Cassius! Each of you take two men and come and follow me! Take chains and ropes to bind the witch, so that she escape us not a second time."

The men lit torches, obeyed orders and went with their chief, armed as if about to capture a band of robbers. On nearing the shore of the Tiber they beheld from afar a shining light and Philomena kneeling between two angels. At the sight the soldiers became terror-stricken. "Those are not human beings," said Sarmio, "and with spirits I will have naught to do. Oh, see how her face. shines! Look, the other two have flaming swords in their hands!"

"Bah, it is all an illusion," replied the centurion.

"Go for them! They cannot resist your weapons. Lower lances and attack them!"

Reluctantly the soldiers obeyed. Just as the lances were about to touch the holy martyr's breast, one of the angels lifted his hand, and as if struck by lightning the soldiers fell to the ground. Their weapons dropped from their hands, but they themselves were unharmed. The centurion was the first to recover from his fright. With a fearful oath he tried to rise, but found himself unable.

Now Philomena spoke. Smilingly, she said: "Why came ye with spears and swords and clubs to capture a weak maiden? There is no need of all these weapons. I shall follow ye unresistingly, because my heavenly Spouse wills it. I hoped to die in the water into which ye cast me, but it is God's will that I suffer more in testimony of my faith in Christ crucified. Did He not permit it, ye should have no power over me, for He has commanded His angels to guard me. Now let us go hence, for I must suffer for my heavenly Spouse."

The angels vanished, and the soldiers regained courage and the use of their limbs. The centurion roared: "Now, sorceress, thou art in my power. Ho, there; hold her fast and bind her so that she may not escape us again."

She was loaded with chains and securely bound. Yet the uncouth warriors treated her with a certain respect and did not offend her modesty. For, even though the angels had disappeared, the Lord guarded the virgin purity of His spouse.

The news of the extraordinary event spread all over the city, and when the procession reached the imperial palace at early dawn a great concourse of people had already assembled to see the "sorceress."

CHAPTER XI.

SIGNS AND WONDERS.

"God is wonderful in His saints."

(Ps. lxxvii: 36.) IOCLETIAN had had a bad night. Terrible dreams had disturbed him, and the memory cf his murdered victim filled his soul more than usually with alarm. When he was notified of what had happened he was sorely frightened. He refused to see Philomena, and asked what was to be done with her, he cried wrathfully: "Do with her what ye will, but at all events put her out of the way! Hang her, burn her at the stake, kill her with clubs-so ye do but kill her. I want to have peace."

"This suits me exactly," rejoined the centurion.

"It will afford excellent practice to my Thracian archers, whose arrows have never had so charming a target. Ha, ha, ha!"

The virgin martyr was taken from the prison into which she had been cast, led outside the city walls, and there bound to a tree. The centurion measured the distance, the archers took their stations and at the word of command a shower of arrows flew against the helpless victim. Most of the arrows went true, and with the exception of Philomena's face there was scarcely a part of her body that was not penetrated by the sharp points. The pain was terrible. The blood flowed in streams when the arrows were pulled out. The cruel sport was repeated, and the death-dealing missiles were now aimed at the vital parts. Deathly pallor overspread the virgin's features, she closed her eyes and her head sank heavily on her breast. Loss of blood had exhausted her.

"She is dead," said the soldiers when they removed the arrows. "At best she can live but a few hours. It is inexcusable to torture her any longer. Let us leave her to die in peace."

The ropes that bound the martyr to the tree were cut, the bleeding victim was placed on a bier and carried to a dark vault under the amphitheater, where the corpses of the dead gladiators were usually laid away to await burial. Two soldiers remained on guard before the vault with orders to report when she was dead.

Time hung heavy on the guards. "O, Strabo," said the one to his companion, "I do not see why we should stand here and roast in the sun to see a poor, tortured child die. I move that we let her die in peace, whilst we go to old Tryphon, who dispenses an excellent Falernian."

"Well said, Marcellus!" replied the other. "By the gods I second thy motion. Let us go at once! The girl is as good as dead; she will never wake up again. I am off!"

Tryphon's Falernian was excellent indeed, so excellent that the two guards, on returning toward noon, found it difficult to walk straight. But who can describe their amazement at beholding Philomena, whom they thought dead, sitting on a stone in front of the vault, singing psalms and smiling at them? They scarcely believed their eyes and were afraid to approach.

"By the gods, Strabo, this is indeed strange! I never saw the like in my life. It is witchcraft. Let us save ourselves. Diocletian may attend to her himself!" And he ran as fast as his legs, still unsteady from the effects of the wine, were able to carry him. His companion took the matter more coolly. He reported to the centurion, who informed. the emperor of the turn things had taken. The news spread through the palace; everybody was anxious to see the miracle and hastened to the scene. Diocletian, too, despite his superstitious dread, went out.

"Now, Philomena," he summoned courage to ask her, "how long wilt thou persist in thy sorceries and witchcraft?"

"It is not by sorcery and witchcraft that I am spared death," she replied; "it is by the power of God, who wishes to glorify His name before the heathens. Instead of ascribing the wonders thou witnesseth to witchcraft, thou shouldst rather confess the power of God and cease to persecute His Church. For the more obdurate thou art, the greater is thy crime and its future punishment."

"Why persist in speaking of punishment and the Nazarene? He would have long ago annihilated me did He but possess the power. Have I not tortured and murdered His followers every day for years, and was He able to prevent it? I despise thy threats of His vengeance, and thou shalt die in spite of thy Jesus of Nazareth and all His angels. Ho, lictors, tie her again to the tree! Let the archers make her a living target before my very eyes. Die she must!"

The order was quickly obeyed. Again the arrows sped from the bows with unerring aim; but, lo! not one of them touched the martyr's body.

"Ha, now I see why ye have not killed her; ye have not even hit her! And ye call yourselves Thracian archers? Ye are craven cowards and miserable wretches instead of soldiers!"

The archers resented the reflection on their prowess, and in proof of their sure aim they showed him the arrows, still dyed with blood, which they had used in the morning.

"Try again!" commanded Diocletian. "I shall have each one scourged who misses her this time."

The archers gnashed their teeth in silent rage, but again sent their arrows in the direction of the martyr. They stuck fast in the tree above her, they fell to the ground at her feet, but not a single one harmed her.

"It is sorcery, imperial lord!" cried the centurion. "My men have never before missed their aim. A higher power must divert the arrows' course."

An augur who witnessed the scene explained: "Let the arrow-heads be made red-hot; witches fear the fire, and their power is harmless against it."

The suggestion was adopted. But lo! a new marvel. The red-hot arrows sped through the air until they reached the martyr; then, without touching her, they reversed their course and returned with double force on the archers. Six of them were killed outright, and the rest writhed in fearful agony on the ground. Alarm and terror seized the spectators. Many of them struck their breasts and confessed the true God; others fled in dismay.

The emperor was sorely perplexed; he feared a general revolt. Summoning his counselors, he said: "This thing is becoming unbearable. What is to be done with the sorceress? If she continue to baffle our efforts our prestige will be gone. The heathens murmur even now, and the Christians are triumphant. The Nazarene is gaining in favor, and yet we may not confess ourselves defeated. What is to be done?"

"Permit me to make a suggestion, imperial lord," said Nicanor, one of the emperor's trusted friends. "These Christians are adepts at sorcery, 'tis true, and we have the proofs of it before our eyes. We have had cases like this before. Remember Vitus, who was belabored with clubs, placed in boiling oil and cast before the wild beasts. All our endeavors were in vain. Yet when the executioner's axe severed his head from his body, he succumbed. Indeed, decapitation is the only effective means by which to rid ourselves of these Christians."

"Well said, Nicanor! Thou art right," replied Diocletian. "The Nazarene seems to be master of secret arts, but I doubt whether he is able to replace a severed head. Well, we shall see!"

E

with me.

VERYBODY was anxious to witness the result of the experiment. The emperor ordered Philomena to be unbound, and scornfully addressed her: "I observe that thy lover's power is rather great. He seems to be an adept at sorcery, and has thereby captured the minds of the many. Now I desire Him to perform a new trick, which, if he accomplish it, shall make me, too, believe in Him. I will have thee decapitated. If He is powerful enough to replace thy head on thy shoulders in presence of the whole assembly here, and before my very eyes, I shall believe in Him and shall cease to persecute His followers. No better opportunity was ever offered to the Nazarene to vindicate himself and his doctrine."

Philomena replied: "Do not blaspheme the Lord, the Most High! God, who scrutinizes the heart, knows thy falsehood and deception. For a number of years He wrought innumerable miracles before thy very eyes, but thy mind remained obtuse, because it is the abode of Belial, the spirit of darkness. Thou callest thyself master and lord, but thou art a slave, a bloodhound, a tool of hell. Even if the Lord should perform the miracle which thou hast named thou wouldst not believe, and thy sin would be so much the greater. Do, therefore, whatever thou wilt; if thou thirsteth for my blood, take it. I sigh to be released, to leave this place of banishment, this abode of sin and cruelty. I court death to be united with Christ, my heavenly Spouse."

"Thy wish shall be fulfilled at once, insane visionary! Ho, lictors, bring the block and cut off this foolish girl's head. How I shall laugh if the Nazarene does not replace it!"

"Thou mayest laugh now, but when He shall come with a legion of angels to judge the world, thou wilt tremble and-"

She was not permitted to finish. The lictors took hold of her, threw her to the ground andbound her. Silently praying, she placed her head on the block. The executioner put aside her beautiful hair which covered her neck and shoulders; then, raising the axe high above his head, he was

(Apoc. xxii: 12.)

ready to strike. breathless.

The silence of the crowd was

"Now, Nazarene," Diocletian cried, "is Thy chance! Now show thy power before all the people. Let us see who is stronger, Thou or I!"

"Come, O Jesus, Spouse of my soul!" prayed the martyr.

Diocletian laughed. "Thy Jesus comes not. I am losing patience. Executioner, do thy work!"

The axe descended. The martyr's head rolled in the sand. The blood spurted high. Once more the eyes of the severed head opened, and then closed forever. A beautiful smile graced the lips; not a muscle moved; no sign of pain was visible; a halo of light encircled the head for a moment and then vanished. Philomena was at rest.

The virgin martyr died on the 10th of August, 302, on a Friday, at the very hour when our Savior died on the cross. But the "Nazarene" was not vanquished. God is eternal; hence He selects His own time for reward and for punishment.

Fifteen centuries elapsed. Diocletian long ago mouldered in the dust. The Roman empire belonged to history. Generations rose, flourished and were forgotten. St. Philomena's very name was no longer known, when it finally pleased the Lord to glorify her before the world.

On the 25th of May, 1802, a tombstone was discovered in the Via Salaria at Rome bearing the following inscription: "Lumena in pace Fi." It was broken, and the fragments indicated that the last syllable belonged to the name. Hence the translation is: "Philomena in peace!" The stone bore the emblems of her martyrdom; an anchor, an arrow, a palm, a scourge, two arrows reversing their course, and a lily. With the relics was found a phial containing congealed blood. When the latter was examined a series of extraordinary miracles began. It now shone like burnished gold, now like diamonds and other precious stones, and then in all the colors of the rainbow.

The relics of the saint were transferred to Magnano, near Naples, and thence the fame of "Little Philomena," as she is affectionately called in. Italy, began to spread all over the world: for so great was the number of miracles performed by her intercession, that she was styled "The Miraculous Saint of the Nineteenth Century."

The history of her martyrdom is not based on romantic imagination. In 1836, the saint herself revealed it to three different persons, one of them a saintly man of Naples. It is corroborated by the symbols found on her tombstone, and by the miracles wrought through her intercession.

On the first and second of August of every year the Portiuncula Indulgence may be gained in all churches of the Franciscan Order, by making a good confession and receiving worthily holy communion, and by praying for the intentions of the holy church at each visit.

Do not fail to gain a spiritual grace or favor whenever you have a favorable opportunity, for it may be your last chance to do so before you die. A few years ago a lady in Chicago passed in company with her husband a church at the time at which the gaining of the Portiuncula Indulgence had just commenced, and she wondered on what account so many people flocked to the church. Her husband explained the cause to her, and invited. her to make use of the occasion and go together into the church and try to gain a plenary indul

gence.

But she refused and said: "Let us go on, I'm all right." So they went their way without visiting the church and making a good use of the occasion. About an hour or two, after they had visited some stores, the lady went home, while her husband tended to some other affairs and returned about an hour later. As soon as he came near to the house his boy met him and said: "Mamma is dead." The lady, after she had reached her home, laid herself down to rest a little, and there the Lord called her suddenly to the house of eternity. Was she all right? Do not miss a chance to prepare your soul for the hour of death, especially when circumstances are so favorable; you know not for surety whether you are all right when the son of man is coming to call you to eternity.