people. It is his soul that is different.

And so, a visitor to the Professed House in Rome in 1567, meeting
Stanislaus Kostka, would see a handsome, pleasant-looking Polish boy
of seventeen, with his sleeves rolled up above his elbows, with an
apron over his cassock, carrying wood for the kitchen fires, washing
dishes, serving at table, sweeping corridors and rooms.

He got up at half past four, or five o'clock, every morning. He
spent half an hour in meditation, in thinking over some incident in
our Lord's life or some great truth, as that death is near to each
of us, that this life is only the vestibule of eternity, that our
whole business in life is to do what God wants us to do, or the like.

After that came Mass and, once or twice a week, Holy Communion and
his thanksgiving. Then breakfast, taken in silence. He read in a
spiritual book for half an hour or so after breakfast, then went to
the kitchen or the dining hall or the scullery, where he set to work
under the orders of the cook.

In the course of the morning there might be a talk or instruction
from the priest in charge of the novices. There surely would be one
or more visits to the chapel. When the hour for dinner came,
Stanislaus probably served at table, taking his own meal later.
After dinner there was an hour for recreation, when the novices
walked and chatted in the garden or about the house.

The afternoon, like the morning, was taken up with lowly work, with
prayer, and a little reading or instruction. Toward evening, he
again spent half an hour in meditation. Then came the evening meal,