The following winter [1906] I wrote of my audience with the Pope, Pius X -- that beautiful-faced man who never wanted to be a Pope, preferring his quiet priesthood, and whose personality expressed his sense of serious responsibility under the burden of his position.
 
  "I have had an audience with the Pope. That expression sug-
gests sitting down in a stately room, alone with this august per-
sonage, and engaging in intimate conversation. Instead, it means
waiting for a lengthy period of time, in a more or less crowded
room, until a tired and overtaxed man, with the weight of an
enormous responsibility resting upon him, comes, in the per-
formance of a duty which must grow monotonous to him, and
in his brief transit bestows a general blessing on every one in the
room. Each one bends the knee, and kisses his hand. I, like all
others, carried many rosaries and strings of beads over my arm,
and all these came in for their share of the general blessing.
Naturally, no individual was privileged to converse with the Pope,
but the 'Audience' left one with the satisfaction of having been
in the presence, and having seen at close range, one of the world
figures. Pope Pius X is a tall man, with a beautiful, sad face.
I felt drawn to him."

My blessed chains and rosaries gave great pleasure to many sweet Catholic friends afterward; and only this year (1917) I gave the last one to a dear girl who sent it to a Catholic soldier, telling him it had been blessed by the Pope.



The Worlds and I by Ella Wheeler Wilcox. Page 218