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Rh of our lives.’ When the morning arrived a large and sympathetic congregation had gathered in the little church, and the sight of the six young friars—mere boys we all were—solemnly casting off every earthly hope with all the energy of aged Stoics, moved them deeply. The purport of the vow was explained to them in the exhortation of our superior, and they at least keenly felt the awful extent of our sacrifice. We, too, were convinced that we fully realised the gravity of our step: true, our thoughts were rather turned towards the glamour of the position we coveted and its many advantages, yet we were not insensible of the price we were asked to pay. But it was many a long year before the true gravity of the step could be realised, long after we had solemnly and irrevocably ratified our vows.

What are the world and the flesh to a boy of sixteen, or even to a boy of nineteen (at which age the final, irrevocable step is taken) who has been confined in an ecclesiastical institution from his thirteenth year? He knows little more of the life which he cuts off so lightly by his vow of poverty than he does of the life of Mars; and he is absolutely ignorant, when he makes his vow of celibacy, of that profound passion which will one day throb so powerfully in every fibre of his being and transform the world beyond conception.