Life of Saint Monica

Zarna, where the glory of Hannibal had perished for ever. But Rome had long since avenged the sufferings of her bitter struggle with Carthage. It was the ambition of Roman Afric

as a place of refuge-too much

tine, in name a Christian, sat on the Imperial throne. The old struggle with paganism, which had lasted for four hundred years, was nearly at an end,

girl sat together looking out into the dark shadows of the evening, for the hot African sun

ishop Cyprian?"

ll known and powerful. At that time they dared not put him to death, though later he, too, shed his blood

him, grandmother

ge and still a pagan that the holy martyrs Perpetua and Felicitas suffered with their companions. It was not till

had lived through those dark days of persecution, and it was the delight of Monica's girlhood to

ried, and had a little infant of a few months' old. When she was called before the tribunal of Hilarion the Roman Governor, all were touched by her youth and

t in her arms. 'Will you leave your infant motherless?' he ask

' cried the bystanders. '

d her eyes filled with tears. They thought s

,' they said, 'and you are free-for th

I am a Christian,' she sai

abe of Felicitas was born in the prison where they lay awaiting death. A Christian woman took the infant to bring it up in the Faith. The young mother never saw the face of her child in this world. One word, one little motion of the ha

s like a palace,' she said, while its little downy head lay on her breast. Her father wept, and

adiators were summoned to behead them. Felicitas died at the first stroke, but the man's hand trembled, and he struck at Perpetua again and

, and so passed into th

rew a lo

yet so stro

ose who are strong and true in the little things of

lways strong and tr

mes always first," an

ould surround her nursling in later years. Monica, though full of life and spirit, had common sense and judgment beyond her years. She had also a great love of God and of all that belonged to His holy service, and would spend hours kneeling in the church in a quiet corner. It was there she brought all her childish troubles and her childish hopes; it was to the invisible Friend in th

ld go every day to the cellar to draw the wine for the midday meal. A maid-servant went with her to carry the flagon, and the child, feeling delightfully important, filled and refilled the little cup which was used to draw the wine from the cask and emptied it carefully into the wine-jar. When all was finished, a few drops remaining in the cup, a spirit of mischief took sudden possession of Monica, and she drained it off, making a wry face as she did so at the strange taste. The maid-servant laughed, and continued to laugh when the performance was repeated the

ber like you to find faul

water. God had taught her that "he who despises small things shall fall by little and little," and Monica had learnt her lesson. She had learnt to distrust herself, and self-distrust makes one marvellously gentle with others; she had learnt, too, to put her trust in God, and trust in God makes one marvellou

s into the starlit night, where the palm-trees stood like dark shadows against the deep, deep blue of the sky. She clasped her hands, and her lips moved in prayer. "Oh God," she murmured, "t