search. Whilst not despising the learning of the ancients, nor rejecting their guidance, he knew how to bring the most rigorously established conclusions of modern science into line with them. He has published also two works on psychology, "The Origin of Contemporary Psychology" and the "Relation of Experimental Psychology to Philosophy," and a unique work on language entitled La Parole. It is simply impossible to enumerate the number of magazine articles that came from his pen during these fruitful years, nor the critical reviews of books, which very often took on the nature of compact little treatises on the various subjects. All of these fugitive writings are eminently worth while, and some day, perhaps, some one of his pupils will see the advantage of assembling them in one place for the clarifying of the processes of human thought.

After his accession to the archiepiscopal throne of Malines, he delivered a course of sermons to his seminarians during their annual spiritual retreat. This volume, "To my Students," as also another volume of clerical sermons, "Retreat Preached to Priests," carrying the sub-title "The Inner Life," show him up admirably from the spiritual angle. They have sold by the thousands, have been translated into most modern vernaculars, and have won the highest commendation from two Popes. The Letters, Allocutions

and Pastorals which have come from his fecund brain since 1906 have been gathered together in five massive volumes which show him to be a real father to his spiritual children, ever on the alert to warn them of danger, to orientate their minds on the burning questions of the hour, and to encourage them to the living of a fuller spiritual life.

But this vast amount of teaching Cardinal Mercier has galvanized and made living for his priests and people by his own example of apostolic zeal. From the moment of his appointment as their Archbishop, his first thought was to get in close touch with them. Every morning at eight o'clock the doors of the palace were thrown open, and from that time until the noon hour-and often far beyond it-he could be seen moving among the crowds who had gathered, dispensing alms and fatherly advice. Each one was received exactly in the order of his arrival. questions whatever were asked as to the purpose of his people's coming. Many times he has been known to go without food until evening, listening to important questions, or some tale of woe. Nor did he hesitate, when occasion demanded, to trudge out on sick calls, or to visit homes where dissension threatened to part husband and wife.

No

It is easy to imagine what this complete change of life must have meant to a man of his studious

habits. Like every good bishop, he was omnipresent in his diocese, which counts over two million souls. In order to multiply himself as much as possible, he was one of the first bishops of Christendom to make use of an automobile, seeing in this not a sinful extravagance, but merely the means of ministering more effectually to those members of his flock living in remote corners of his diocese.

Some years ago, while on his way to Antwerp, a little child suddenly ran across the road directly in front of his automobile. As there was not sufficient time to stop the machine, he shouted to his chaffeur to turn it into the stone wall that ran alongside the road. The result, of course, was a bad wreck, in which the Cardinal sustained a severe injury, the scars of which were distinctly visible on his thin, ascetic face when he visited America after the close

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of the war. The child escaped unscathed. In referring to this incident, he always said that it was much better that he should have met with an accident than that the child should have been even slightly injured!

In all his ecclesiastical works there is the unmistakable note of sincerity and holiness. Indeed, all Belgium looks upon him as a living saint. Those who have lived with him for years are one in testifying that though of a highly nervous temperament, he

has never been known to be peevish or irritable. The students with whom he shared his meals whilst he was a professor still speak of his abstemiousness and his rigorous observance of the Lenten fasts. His charity is proverbial. His zeal for the things of God is all-consuming. His kindness and consideration have never been known to fail.

I first saw Cardinal Mercier in the Fall of 1909, in the crypt of the Cathedral of Milan, where the body of the great archbishop of that see, St. Charles Borromeo, is still preserved on the altar, incorrupt. This glass shrine is opened up, and the body exposed, only for bishops whilst saying Mass. On this particular morning the Cardinal, who had just finished celebrating Mass, seeing me vesting, asked that the shrine be not closed, and himself deigned to serve me and to answer the prayers. Afterwards we walked about the Cathedral together, conversing familiarly. Even then I was lost in admiration of his kindness and urbanity toward an unknown, insignificant young priest who had not even finished his studies. Some years later, meeting him in Brussels, he recalled the incident distinctly, and mentioned some of the matters we had then discussed.

It was his kindness and his gentleness, no less than his willingness to get our American point of view, that endeared him to people of all creeds and

colors during those weeks when his going up and down our country was more like the triumphal march of a conquering hero than an ovation given to a stranger. During those days he never showed fatigue, never grew slack in enthusiasm for things American. Cardinal Mercier had in his younger days traveled a great deal in England, Italy, Germany and Russia. In those days he often talked of paying a visit to America also, being all the more anxious to do so because a maternal uncle, the V. Rev. Adrian J. Cloquet, had for years been laboring as missionary on the Grande Ronde Reservation in Oregon. and the fact that when the Catholic University of America was established in Washington efforts were made to enlist his services as one of its professors accounted for his special interest in our country.

This

Those who saw him coming up the Bay on the day of his arrival noticed the eager light in his eyes -eyes that after those of Pope Leo XIII are said to be the keenest of the last two generations. It was, no doubt, the light of joy in his heart at seeing America at last, that lit up his face and fairly made it glow. And America took him to her heart at once, whole-heartedly, as she is wont to do when the occasion warrants. During his visit his popularity grew day by day. With consummate tact, he always said and did the right thing in the right way. Whilst