The Lily of Israel

IN the golden days of happy childhood we all loved to read that sweet story of Our Lady's life called The Lily of Israel. The gentle narrative of holy souls was so entrancing and the sacred scenes so bathed in the colors of romance that our hearts were captivated and our souls filled with spiritual gladness.

Alas! When in riper years we turned once more the dear old pages, something was wanting - something seemed amiss. The story was still interesting, still fascinating, but again and again we found ourselves sad at heart. N ow it was the strange use of a word; then it was the unhappy turn of a phrase; again it was some marvelous incident related with a cer tain glowing enthusiasm which carried its writer beyond the confines of credibility, when there was no apparent reason either for invention or rhapsody.

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