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only his first week here. Particular friendships are not allowed: that is, though one may feel greater sympathy for one than for another, one ought not to show it. The wrong is, not in the feeling, but in the injustice done to others by a show of that feeling. As a member of a commaunity, equal kindness is due to all; and any extraordinary amount of kindness received by one, is taken away from the rest. So the motto is: Tous, mais pas un! And this rule applies even to brothers according to the flesh, if any such happen to be together in the Novitiate: they must be to one another neither more nor less than the first novice that comes. Spiritual fraternity ought to predominate over natural brotherhood; the indissoluble links of religion form a far stronger chain than those ties which, springing out of corruption, are again to dissolve into corruption; Eternity is more than Time.

When I came to the Novitiate, I had been told of many most extraordinary things I should be required to do as a test of my obedience; and I was rather disappointed than otherwise, on finding that nobody ordered me to eat peas with a two-pronged fork, or to sweep out a cell with the wrong end of a broom. I was expected to take it for granted that the orders given me were reasonable; if I did not think them so, my duty was to ask for explanations. Nothing is falser than the idea that a Jesuit is a mere machine for obeying orders. Let us say rather—setting aside cases in which it would be a duty to disobey—that he is a machine for understanding the true sense of the orders given, and for carrying them out in their true sense. “I have done,” writes Laynez to Loyola, “not what you ordered me, but what, had you been present, you would have ordered me.” And St Ignatius approved him. Yet the conduct of that novice who remained a whole day in the Master’s room without stirring, because he had been told to remain there, and had then been forgotten, is held up to public admiration. To admiration, yes, to imitation, no. This example ought to have no more influence on the ordinary course of life than that of the other novice who on his deathbed asked permission of his Superior to quit the Novitiate, thinking that he could not posgibly die without leave.

At 8.30, leaving a bottle of wine half filled, a link of a chain half formed, or a garden-weed half pulled out, all the novices run to get their book on ‘Christian Perfection,’ by Rodriguez. We may call it the standard ascetic work of the Novitiate; even on whole holidays, even during the vacation, it is regularly read for half an hour every day. The peculiarity consists in the manner of reading. The Frère Admoniteur goes down into the garden and opens his book; all the novices follow him at random, one after another; while he takes the lead with a rapid step, they have to walk after him at the same pace, taking care not to tread on the heels of their neighbours. This is technically called tourner Rodriguez, and certainly does look very absurd. The reason for this strange manner of reading is to give the novices a sufficient amount of exercise in the morning, together with fresh air. In the afternoon there is plenty of motion: two hours of recreation, besides manual work; and three walks in the week. So, to make up for this deficiency, Frère Ad-