"He then showed the utility of missions, and mentioned that this was his 245th; and closed, as he did on the subsequent evenings, by saying three Hail Marys for the conversion of England, one for the conversion of Scotland, and one for the sanctification of Ireland. Each of the first three was followed by, Help of Christians, pray for us; that for Scotland by, St. Margaret, pray for us; and that for Ireland by, St. Patrick, pray for us. He also mentioned that he had received from his Holiness, Pope Pius IX., an indulgence of 300 days for each Hail Mary said for the conversion of England. On the following four days he said mass every morning at seven o'clock, and, on the three first, heard confessions from six o'clock in the morning until eleven at night, with the exception of the time required for his devotions and meals. On Saturday morning he heard two confessions before mass. I was the last he heard, and I trust the fatherly advice he then gave me shall never be eradicated from my memory."

Father O'Keefe writes:—

"I am just in receipt of your letter, and beg to inform you that I have not words to express the sorrow I feel for the sudden death of the good and holy Father Ignatius. Deo gratias, there is one more added to the Church triumphant. He reached my house about five o'clock on the 27th ult., and left this on Saturday morning at a quarter-past nine o'clock, during which time he enjoyed excellent health. He told me that he was going direct to Leith, to open his little mission there on Saturday night; and thence to Portobello for the same purpose, after he had done at Leith. He also told me that, after finishing his mission at Portobello, he would return home to St. Anne's Retreat. He intended to pay a visit to Mr. Monteith this week. On Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday nights he had supper at half-past ten o'clock, and then returned to the confessional until about a quarter-past eleven. On Friday night he told me to defer supper till eleven; yet, late though it was, he returned after supper to the confessional, and remained there until a quarter-past twelve. When he came in, I said: 'I am afraid, Father Ignatius, you are over-exerting yourself, and that you must feel tired and fatigued.' He said, with a smile: 'No, no; I am not fatigued. There is no use in saying I am tired, for, you know, I must be at the same work to-night in Leith.' He retired to his room at half-past twelve o'clock, and was in the confessional again at six o'clock in the morning. He said mass at seven; breakfasted at half-past eight; and, as I have already said, left this at a quarter-past nine for the train. On seeing him, after breakfast, in his secular dress, I remarked that he looked much better and younger than in his religious habit. The remark caused him to laugh very heartily. It was the only time I saw him laugh. He said: 'I wish to tell you what Father Thomas Doyle said when he saw me in my secular dress: "Father Ignatius, you look like a {503 } broken-down old gentleman." And he enjoyed the remark very much.'"

The remainder of his life is easily told. He arrived at Carstairs Junction at 10.35 a.m.; came out of the train, and gave his luggage in charge of the station master. He then went towards Carstairs House, the residence of Mr. Monteith. There is a long avenue through the demesne for about half a mile from the station, crossed then at right angles by another, which leads to the grand entrance; this avenue Father Ignatius went by. He had just passed the "rectangle," and was coming straight to the grand entrance, when he turned off on a bye path. He perceived that he had lost his way, and asked a child which was the right one. He never spoke to mortal again.

On a little corner in the avenue, just within sight of the house, and about a hundred paces from the door, he fell suddenly and yielded up his spirit into the hands of his Creator. May we all die doing God's work, and as well prepared as Father Ignatius of St. Paul!

CHAPTER XXI.
The Obsequies Of Father Ignatius.

The divine attribute of Providence to which he was so fondly devoted during life guided him in his last moments. He did not intend to visit Carstairs before the 10th of October, but our Lord, who disposes all things sweetly, had ordained otherwise, by the circumstances. The train he came by was due at the junction at 10.35, and the train for Edinburgh would not start before 11.50. He had more than an hour to wait, and he thought perhaps he might as well spend part of that time at Mr. Monteith's as at the Railway Station; besides he could get a fast train to Edinburgh at 3.0, which would bring him to Leith a few minutes after six, and this would be time enough, as his mission was to commence on the next day, Sunday. Such seems to have been the simple combination of circumstances that directed his steps to Carstairs House, as far as human eye can see. We cannot but admire the dispositions of Providence; had he taken any other train, he might have died in the railway carriage, or at a station. How convenient that he died within the boundaries of the demesne of a friend by whom he was venerated, and to whose house he was always welcome!

And then how remarkable was that other circumstance of his being alone. Servants and workmen were passing up and down the place the whole morning, but at the moment God chose to call his servant, no human eye saw him, and no hand was ready to assist him. On measuring the respective distances from where he had turned off the avenue, to where his body was found, and to the house, it was seen that, had he gone on straight, he would have fallen just on the threshold. It was God's will that angels instead of men should surround his lonely bed of death.

He must have arrived at the spot where his body was discovered about 11 o'clock. A few minutes after, one of the retainers was passing by, and ran at once to the house to give the alarm that a priest lay dead at such a part of the avenue. Mr. Monteith, and Mr. Edmund Waterton, who was on a visit there at the time, were going out to shoot. They laid down their guns, and went in haste to the spot. Monteith did not recognize the features; they were drawn together by the death-stroke. They searched for something to identify him. What was the good man's surprise when he found among the papers of the deceased a letter he had written himself to Father Ignatius a few days before. The truth then flashed across him. It was no other than his own godfather, his constant friend and counsellor, the man whom he venerated so much, Father Ignatius the Passionist. Immediately, a doctor was sent for, the body, which all now recognized, was brought to the nearest shelter, and every available means tried to restore consciousness, but to no effect. Medical examination showed that he died of disease of the heart, and in an instant. The spot whereon he lay bore the impress of his knee, and the brim of his hat was broken by his sudden fall on the left side. As soon as they were certain of life being extinct, the body was brought into the house, the luggage was sent for, a coffin was provided, the secular dress was taken off, and the corpse robed in the religious habit. The sacristy was draped in black, and two flickering tapers showed the mortal remains of a pure and saintly soul, as they lay there in a kind of religious state for the greater part of three days.