How wonderful is the power of prayer!  It is like unto a queen, who, having free access to the king, obtains whatsoever she asks.  In order to secure a hearing there is no need to recite set prayers composed for the occasion—­were it so, I ought indeed to be pitied!

Apart from the Divine Office, which in spite of my unworthiness is a daily joy, I have not the courage to look through books for beautiful prayers.  I only get a headache because of their number, and besides, one is more lovely than another.  Unable therefore to say them all, and lost in choice, I do as children who have not learnt to read—­I simply tell Our Lord all that I want, and He always understands.

With me prayer is an uplifting of the heart; a glance towards heaven; a cry of gratitude and love, uttered equally in sorrow and in joy.  In a word, it is something noble, supernatural, which expands my soul and unites it to God.  Sometimes when I am in such a state of spiritual dryness that not a single good thought occurs to me, I say very slowly the “Our Father” or the “Hail Mary,” and these prayers suffice to take me out of myself, and wonderfully refresh me.

But what was I speaking of?  Again I am lost in a maze of reflections.  Forgive me, dear Mother, for wandering thus.  My story is like a tangled skein, but I fear I can do no better.  I write my thoughts as they come; I fish at random in the stream of my heart, and offer you all that I catch.

I was telling you about the novices.  They often say:  “You have an answer for everything.  This time I thought I should puzzle you.  Where do you find all that you teach us?” Some are even simple enough to think I can read their souls, because at times it happens I discover to them—­without revelation—­the subject of their thoughts.  The senior novice had determined to hide from me a great sorrow.  She spent the night in anguish, keeping back her tears lest her eyes might betray her.  Yet she came to me with a smile next day, seeming even more cheerful than usual, and when I said:  “You are in trouble, I am sure,” she looked at me in inexpressible amazement.  Her surprise was so great that it reacted on me, and imparted a sense of the supernatural.  I felt that God was close to us.  Unwittingly—­for I have not the gift of reading souls—­I had spoken as one inspired, and was able to console her completely.

And now, dear Mother, I will tell you wherein I gain most with the novices.  You know they are allowed without restriction to say anything to me, agreeable or the reverse; this is all the easier since they do not owe me the respect due to a Novice-Mistress.  I cannot say that Our Lord makes me walk in the way of exterior humiliation; He is satisfied with humbling me in my inmost soul.  In the eyes of creatures all is success, and I walk in the dangerous path of honour—­if a religious may so speak.  I understand God’s way and that of my superiors in this respect; for if the Community thought me incapable,