BX42f6 L86- ifa | No, KJV I (6 OF ffi \ Si INQUIRY ON MISSIONS. | AND X THE STATE OF RELIGION. LIBRAEY OF THE Theological Seminary, PRINCETON, N.J. Case, Shelf. 2d March, 1833. § INTRODUCTORY LETTER, Pq » # * # Some years ago, my friend, I made a tour in Canada » and was introduced to a gentleman whose extensive know- !edge of the local scenery of that Province, and of the most influential persons in society, greatly facilitated my pur- suits, and enlarged my information. He accompanied me to Montmorenci, Lorette, and Lake Charles. On our return, as we sauntered around the mill at the Indian village, admiring the picturesque beauties of the rapids in the stream. — " This place, said Diganu ; is associated with very affecting oc- currences." " What were they ?" was my inquiry. He paused, as if perplexed at the consciousness of an im* prudeut disclosure ; and upon my repeating the question, he merely added,—" The tae is too long for our present hear- ing, and must not now be told." On a subsequent visit to Quebec, a large party proposed the same excursion, again to enjoy a sail upon the Lake e Diganu took his seat, in my caleche. We haited at the In- dian village on our return ; and having crossed the bridge/ we arrived at the spot where the dell is viewed in all its strik* ing varieties, After surveying the river and its banks with • 1 VI much emotion ; my aged companion remarked.—" f intima- ted to you two years ago, the intense interest which I feel in beholding this scene." " Yes— I replied, and my curiosity was awakened by your intimation. Often at a long distance have I remember- ed Lorette, and have been sadly tantalized with your re- serve." " The expression of my feelings then, in a measure, was involuntary — he answered — but the causes of my silence will soon cease to exist, so that before you leave Montreal, you shall possess the whole story. It is not probable, he added— after our separation for this season, that we shall ever meet again on earth. My age precludes the possibility of my long con- tinuance in this world ; and as you do not expect to be in Canada until a distant period shall have arrived— I will confide to you the circumstances to which I alluded ; with other details of human life, which I have met with during my terrestrial pilgrimage," Prior to my departure ; Diganu presented me a large sealed packet. " This parcel, said he, contains the record of some past events and characters. It is not to be opened until you have been apprised of my decease. After that event, the narratives are subject to your disposal." My friend's painful anticipation was realized. We met no more. During the last spring, when I was looking forward to the pleasure that I should experience in a renewal of social intercourse with the veteran ; after the lapse of a longer time Vli rhan usual, from the reception of his final epistolary remem- brance ; I was informed of his peaceful departure from earth ; and of the testamentary bequest by which he had manife ted his regard for his distant acquaintance. The packet was immediately unfolded; and the contents appeared so interesting and instructive, that it was decided, others should peru>e the delineations it comprised. A note was int-jsed which thus explained the Writer's views and designs. "You will perceive, my beloved friend, that these sheets have been written at \ery distant intervals. They contain notices of persons and things characteristic of Canadian society. The names of all the parties are changed. Al« though the actors have disappeared and the curtain has drop* ped upon their part of the tragic drama, yet as the narrator would surely be known, I have imposed the seal of secrecy, until it will be of no importance to me what use is made of these documents. I consign the manuscripts to you now, in preference to leaving them among my papers ; as in that case, they might ne er have been seen by you ; for it is most probable, that those persons who must necessarily act under my last will, would destroy memorials which record facts, that no man in Canada would dare to publish. When you peruse hese biographical narratives, you will be re- minded of Lorette ; and of your Faithful and affectionate DIGANU.' Cape Diamond, i 2Qth September, 1826. § V11I The manuscripts thus confided to my perusal were mani- festly written when the occurrences were vividly impressed upon the memory. Many remarks and circumstances have been omitted. They betrayed a little of the old gentle- man's garrulity, and were sometimes irrelevant, or too caustic and severe. With the exception of the commencement, the documents have been transposed, so as to adapt them for a continuous history. No stranger can visit Canada without an awakened and deep interest and an acute American observer of life and manners naturally inquires into the causes of those varied novelties which attract his notice. The peculiar characteris- tics of society there elude y a slight regard ; and to compre- hend the state of religious principles, the tone of domestic morals, the mental vassalage, and the profound debasement of the habitans of that Province, numerous difficulties and obstructions must be surmounted. Patience, with persever- ance, is necessary to delve into the secrets of their social and political condition. A solicitude to understand and analyze the elements oi Canadian character and habits, influenced me to use all the means to obtain accurate and diversified information upon these melancholy topics. My acquaintance with Diganu aided my design. The circumstances of his life had increased his tact for surveying those around him ; and his whole course had ren- dered it necessary for him to watch with all keenness, the wayward doings of his associates and fellow-citizens. Hi? IX aidtural aptitude of discrimination had received an additional impulse by the intelligence which he had imbibed, and as he expressed it—" After my eyes were once opened, I main- tained a sleepless watch upon the proceedings of every per- son with whom I was obliged to become acquainted. To that most uncomfortable suspiciousness of all mankind, in which for some years 1 lived, I am indebted for the tem- poral comfort which I enjoy ; and I passed through one-half oi my earthly course, before I fully comprehended the meaning of a solitary exercise combined with the charities of domes- tic life ,• except in connection with the affair of Lorette and Chretien ! When eating my solitary meal, or roaming alone around the city ; often have I vented my dreary feelings and morbid disquietude in this homely couplet — Father, mother, sister, brother, friends- Wife !— Ah ! what do those dear names intend 7 ?" Diganu however had survived all his forced and unnatural misanthropy. He displayed tenderness and affection of the highest order, commingled with a charming sincerity, that rendered communion with him increasingly delightful. The arcana of Canadian society he unfolded in its minutest fea- tures ; and however perplexing some of his statements ap- peared ; he affirmed them to be all true, and vanquished incredulity by evidence which no scepticism could deny. In the following narrative, some of the contents of my own port-folio are conjoined with Diganu's details. To specify the distinctions is superfluous. All the circumstances are part of those annals which represent man as he is, not as fiction describes him. 1* A flattering portrayer of Canada delineates the habitant- upon the banks of the river Lawrence, as a gallant, higL principled, enlightened, and dignified race of mortals, of superior mental elevation and moral worth. To assume this standard of any nation, en masse, is over-stepping the boun- daries of veracity, and that it is totally inapplicable to the Gallic population of Lower Canada, is known to every in- dividual who has not continued in a dead sleepy while mak- ing the grand northern tour. The ensuing pages depict Canadian personages, not in the imaginative embellishments of romance, but in the unadorned drapery of truth . Who of Diganu's actors strutted on the theatre of life, anterior to the capture of Quebec by Wolfe's army, and who are of a subsequent period, there is no clue to discover. His descriptions of the natural scenery are very correct : and some of his individual portraits and narratives of events, I have frequently heard attested as matters oi common notoriety. This explanation contains all that is necessary as an iutro ductory notice to Lorette. You, my friend, I trust, will unite in judgment with the opinion of several clergymen who examined the manuscript, before it was sent to press ; that the perusal of this narrative will enhance the love oi freedom, intelligence, purity and truth ; and also render that triple unholy alliance, ignorance, error and corruption, more odious and repugnant. LORETTE "Amid the crowd, the hum, the shock of men. To hear, to see, to feel and to possess, And roam along, the world's tired denizen, With none who bless us, none whom we can bless Minions of splendor shrinking from distress f None who with kindred consciousness endued. U we were not, would seem to smile the less- Of all that flatter'd, follow'd, sought and sued ; This is to be alone — this, this is solitude !" On the twenty -first day of December, L?- . Digam and Chretien devoted the hours to a circuitous ride around Quebec, for the purpose of arranging the most agreeable mode to dissipate the approaching Christmas, hi conformity with the Canadian customs. This is a season of festivity, in which every species of sensual indulgence is admitted without restriction. Considera ble preparation and expense and all possible ingenuity are impressed into the service to render the close of the year a period of jollity, a carnaval ; when folly and vice rule in all plenitude of sway. High Mass having been chanted ; it seems, that the people think the Savioi is honored in exact pioportion to the extent of their criminal revelry. 12 in these practices Diganu had been nurtured. All his ideas of religion were compressed within a point Like every other orderly peaceable Canadian devotee ; his creed of faith comprised but two articles, — " I must believe only what the priest teaches ; and when I die. I shall go where Le Pretre, the Priest, chooses to send me." His moral code was equally concise and edify ing— u I must do all that the Priest orders." Thus the revolving years repeated the same unvary- ing routine. Dancing, gambling, and dissipation for two weeks from Christmas. — Gormandizing, drinking and frolic, during several days before Lent — pretended fasting, confession to Le Pretre, and mumbling over the Ave Mary, until Good Friday — High Mass and every species of youthful gratification in full indulgence at Easter ; with all the other annual minor repetitions of the same farce of religious buffoonery ; the same drivelling comedy of low life, and the same heinous tragedy of spiritual crime. His companion on the ride to Charlebourg and Lorette, was of the true Canadian orthodox stamp ; a creature reckless of the past, present and future ; who regularly practised all the exterior mummery which Le Pretre enjoined ; and with no less confidence impli- citly trusted his soul to the Priest's safe keeping and clemency. They had completed all their arrange- ments, and in their carriole, with characteristic levity were exulting in their anticipated delights at the ensuing festival. When they arrived at the head of the dell of si 13 Lorette, through which the river Charles so impetuously rushes, their attention was absorbed by an object which deeply alarmed them. It was a moonlight evening ; but the heavens were partially covered with those deep gray flitting clouds, which, in connection with the luminous effects of the snow, give to the northern regions that peculiar aspect which the Canadian winter nights present; and which attach to objects at a certain distance, a shadowy indis- tinctness, that is calculated to excite very undefinable emotions. Whether the tone of their feelings had been too highly exhilarated, and the revulsion so na- tural in such cases affected them is immaterial — but Diganu remarked to his companion — " what is that figure standing upon yoi.der rock ?" h Q,u 'est que c'est I What is it — replied Chretien ; Je ne sais pas ; I know not : but it looks like a woman We must hurry round and ascertain." As they rapidly crossed the stream, they discerned that it was a female figure. Her head was uncovered ; her hair was disordered ; she had none of the clothing usual for that inclement season ; and she appeared to be wringing her hands, beating her bosom, and agoni- zed in the extremity of despair. Perceiving her perilous situation. Diganu and Chretien with all possible ex- pedition hastened to the spot ; but as they approached the projection, she was invisible. Upon examination they found a young woman prostrate against a jutting u tree, wounded, insensible, with half her body resting on a large branch ; by which, it was evident, that she had been saved from being precipitated one hundred feet into the yawning abyss. They rrecued her from her imminently dangerous position, collected a bonnet, with some other articles of female winter dress, and without delay transferred her to the attentions of the neighboring squaws. Diganu determined to remain at Lorette%) await the result, while Chretien drove to Q,uebeq to procure medical aid. During the night, she continued totally unconscious, and apparently in a death like stupor. Not a memorial was found, by which her name, place of abode, or connections could be ascertained ; and it was not until the morning, when the surgeon arrived and bled hei\ that she exhibited any symptoms of energy. Her wounds were pronounced to be slight, but as she appeared to be in a high fever, it was indispensable that she should remain where she had been first con- veyed. Diganu and his Companion engaged to pro- vide all suitable conveniencies ; and to devote the days of the festival in assisting to restore their patient. How changed the scene ! The two thoughtless children of vanity sacrificed all their fancied enjoyments to watch a stranger, whom they had delivered from destruction, or to a daily ride into Quebec for medical direction and the necessaries essential for their protegee The close of the holidays approached ; and their sister, as the youths familiarly denominated her, for she was evidently of about their own age, still remained in a 15 peculiarly delicate condition. To leave her was una- voidable; they therefore confided her to the care of two squaws. Frequently dil ihey visit her as she became convalescent ; and when permitted by the surgeon, they conducted her to the city, and placed her where she could be duly attended and watched, In reference to every thing personal, she maintained the most cautious reserve. All their ingenuity, and Diganu betrayed a peculiar interest in her welfare, was ineffectual to elicit the least glimpse of her history. There was a cause however for the deep sympathy which Diganu especially manifested towards her. When she was first carried to the Indian cottage ; and her head was washed to remove the blood which was upon her face and temples ; at the top of her forehead^ was a small punctured cross, with the letter M perfectly invisible as the hair was usually worn; and of course, known only to herself and to the person who im- printed it. Diganu, according to a delusive infatuation among ^ome of his countrymen, had a place on his crown shaved, and on this bald spot was also a small cross, marked mi h the letter D. W hen the squaws called the young men to look at the cross concealed by her hair, thereby to ascertain the identity of her whom they had saved from death. Diganu recollected what he had been told of his own head, and desired Chretien toex= amine it. The smiilaiit) of the figures was so great that his friend declared ; they must have been impres» .16 seel by the same person. Such a coincidence at any other period would have been unnoticed — but in the then state of Diganu's excited feelings, he considered it as almost miraculous ; and he therefore became addition- ally interested in the daughter of sorrow, who had thus been so fortuitously cast upon his protection. All the parties present, the Squaws, the Indians and Chretien, being then equally superstitious, their varied remarks •only tended to increase the impression upon his mind ; until he resolved to make any sacrifice for her comfort and safety. The two friends at that period Were commencing life on their own basis. Both had just previously en- tered upon a small business ; and they therefore agreed as soon as the patient had fully recovered, to make her an offer to superintend their little bachelor's establish- ment. She was to be considered in all points as then sister ; and to receive all the attentions and endear- ments of that tender relation. But to this proposition, Louise, aa she declared her name, stedfastly objected. She seemed to have an unspeakable aversion to be the subject of a stranger's scrutiny. Her dislike was finally vanquished. Diganu and Chretien, when she felt fully restored, were discussing with Louise, her fut me prospects. This topic, during her nulady, had never engaged her atten- tion. When the subject was thus distinctly presented to her consideration, she instantly realized all her de- pendent and friendless condition, fcjhe was deeply tip itgitaced. Her friends assured her, that their solicitude was only for her comfort ; and that they would consent to any arrangement which she would propose, provided that it was beneficial to herself. In the course of the interview, she acknowledged that she was qualified in various ways, to support her self; but she palpitated with tremor, whenever any plan was suggested, through which she could possibly be recognised, or even known to any other persons ; and expressed her hope that the attending Surgeon had not seen her forehead. This allusion reminded Diganu and Chretien of the cross ; and they informed her of the discovery ; but also assured her, that the nurses only, except themselves, were acquainted with it: and that the squaw* merely crossed themselves, when they saw what they thought the mysteriously good sign upon her head. "I propose — said Chretien — that we inspect that- cross again. Your peculiar situation may have deceiv ed me ; but if my opinion was then correct ; I think I ■can point you to a sign not less remarkable." After some hesitation ; Louise consented ; and tht cross was still visible in all its distinctness. " What is the design of this letter M?" inquired Diganu. " I know not — she faintly replied with a blush — no person has seen it before yourselves, since I first discov- ered it. The only woman, who I can think, might 2 18 have explained the mystery, either did not know which I believe most probable 3 or else she considered me too young to be intrusted with the secret." 11 Eh bien ! well ; Diganu — said Chretien — Vbtis avez raison ; you are right." " What do you mean'?" asked the anxious Louise Chretien then requested her to examine the shorn spot on Diganu's head : but she had no sooner seen the talismanic mark, than she sunk into her chair almost fainting. "When she was restored ; "Diganu — said Louise- you have already told me that from a certain sympa thy for which you cannot account, you feel peculiarly interested for my welfare. This remarkable cross 3tamped upon both of us justifies the confidence thai I am about, to place in you. You will permit me to maintain all the secrecy I please. I shall neither visit nor receive visiters ; nor shall I be seen by any ei your associates. Upon these conditions, I will consent to perform the menial duties of your house." This arrangement was objected to by Chretien, u You have not been used to kitchen business. Your refined manners — said he — your delicate frame ; your soft and white hands ; and your excellent understand- ing, with your other capacities, prove : that you have not been and are not qualified to be a household drudge." 19 ■ :i I have stated — replied Louise — the only terms upon which I will consent to place myself under your protection." The next evening- was designated for her removal. When Diganu and Chretien were conversing over this scheme; they both agreed, that no other mode was practicable to preserve Louise from misery. The gloom upon her mind was very oppressive. Her timidity of being noticed was unconquerable ; at the same time her resolution was so undaunted, that every thing was to be dreadedj in case she should be exposed to the same trial which had already jeoparded her life. Yet, she had never betrayed, by any intimation, that her near approach to death at Lorette was voluntary ; and the only emotion that she exhibited was, when any inquiry was made into her prior history. Her friends therefore resolved, that they would accept of her services, retain her secret in ail possible privacy ; and permit her to live as secluded and unknown as she pleased. Far other ideas occupied the mind of Louise, during the interval prior to her actual residence with her de- liverers. Their knowledge of her awful situation at Lorette; their acquaintance with the mysterious cross on her forehead ; the similar mark on Diganu's head ; the risk of her being discovered ; their doltish subservience to their Priest, notwithstanding their better sense and principles, combined with their gay and frivolous tem- pers; and her own hatred and contempt of all the mummery of their superstitions, embarrassed her judg- 20 men! ; and had a certain escape been practicable, she undoubtedly would have attempted it To live as she had done when sick was impossible. It appeared to her therefore, preferable to rely upon the promises of two open hearted young men ; all whose actions, kind ness and intercourse had been so benevolent and frater- nally delicate, than to expose herself to the terrifying dangers from which she had so recently and marvel lously escaped. Under the concealment of darkness, she left her apartment unobserved, and was intro duced to her new habitation. From the commencement of her abode with hex friends, Louise uniformly refused to eat with them ; and never admitted herself to be addressed but as their inferior and servant. At length, however, they noticed ihat she used no mass book ; and that she kept no crucifix ; no images ; no holy water ; no beads ; and no rosary. These deceitful baubles had been duly pro vided for her chamber, but they were all removed ; and the old cross which hung over the kitchen fire-place had disappeared , and no vestige of popery remained, It was determined by her protectors to explore, this mystery. Diganu, being in the kitchen, inquired of Louise ■ 4 What has become of the sacred cross which used to adorn the mantle peice ?" "You agreed" — replied the trembling maiden—" to let me live according to my own way." 21 " We did so— said Diganu — but then we took it for granted that you belonged to the Holy Roman Church/ " You should have asked me that at first" — Louise meekly answered — "and my gratitude and candor would have induced me to confess that I belong to no visible Church." " This justifies exactly what Chretien and I have thought — rejoined Diganu — we put into your sleeping apartment, the Mass book, the true image of the Bless- ed Virgin, and the Holy Crucifix which all good Cath- olics worship. We also procured some holy water bought from the priest himself as a great favor ; and a rosary made by the Nuns and blessed by the Bishop ; and they are all gone. Mere de Dieu ! priez pour nous. Mother of God, pray for us. Ah ! Louise : do you never use these sacred things 7 n " No — she replied without hesitation — "I burnt the Mass-book, the Images and the rosary. The water T cast into the street, and if you knew as much as I do of the Priests and their pretended religion : you would do fhe same." In deep thought, Diganu paused ; but at length remarked. " I do not comprehend "how we shall man- age this affair." "Very easily — instantly subjoined Louise— you need not know any thins: of my principles. With my private 2* 22 opinions, whether right or wrong ; as they will be harm less to you and Chretien, you have no concern. You provided for me a number of articles which I deera ; . useless ; and the disposal of them was my own af- fair." " But — inquired Diganu— suppose I am asked about this matter at confession : what shall I answer f " Tell the Priest, his articles were all safe the las? time you saw them — added Louise — and say no more It is enough for you to confess your own sins ; and let me beg you not to assume my transgressions. Be sides, you promised not to let it be known, if possible to the priest; that you had any young woman in your house." • J I suppose then — remarked Diganu — you will no' attend confession, do penance, and get absolution from he Priest?'*'" " Never — said the weeping girl, with manifest trepi dation — I will never go to the confessional unless I am dragged there. The ceremony is a farce and delusion and it is connected with the greatest wickedness." Diganu crossed himself, and half shuddered. He was sadly bewildered. This was a direct attack made by a female for whom he felt an indescribable inter est, upon all his strongest prejudices. In truth he seriously believed no more of the matter than Louise ; because he had never seriously reflected at all upon the subject. According to his theology, it was a very 23 comfortable thing to pass away life in a frolic ; to pajr the Pretre his various claims at the stated festivals ae long as he lived ; and when he died, to give him the number of louis d'ors necessary to put him into Hea- ven. He had never inquired whether either of these principles or practices was rational or proper or true or religious. The Pretre announced and enjoined it, All his associates believed the certainty and justice of these notions. Thus the Cure promised ; thus he ad- mitted and conformed without scruple ; and a suspicion had never entered his mind, that throughout this whole process, the Pretre might be leading him into the dun- geon of eternal despair. It was a merciful interposition of Divine Providence, that these " heretical " sentiments were first uttered in Diganu's hearing, by the only female for whom he had ever felt any true respect or attachment. Yet he could not define the nature of his regard for the mysterious being who, in such extraordinary circumstances, had been placed under his care. There was such an art- less sincerity and candor, such undissembled delicacy, such infantile simplicity, and yet such a lady- like de- meanor, and such a sisterly confidence in him, ever displayed by Louise in ail her actions, that her influence unintentionally became irresistible. Chretien perceiv- ed the fact, and rejoiced. It was a counterbalance to the buoyancy of Diganu's gay and sanguine tempera- ment. But when the "heretical" propensities of their inmate were decidedly avowed by her ; the friends became wondrously embarrassed. 24 At that period, the idea of a native Canadian's re* uunciation of the Roman faith, was not only a novelty hut a monster. From their diffeient sensations in re lerence to Louise ; Chretien, although kind and affec tionate as a brother, was not so easily impressed as Diganu ; and " it is questionable, whether sound poli- cy — as Chretien remarked— if not our mutual safety iloes.not require, that Louise should be persuaded, at least, to attend the Mass." Several months however had passed away prior tc ihese troublesome discoveries ; and when they were fully made ; the uninformed opinions, with the tender solicitudes of the two young men, combined with the steadfast opposition of Louise to the faith and ceremo- nies to which they professed to adhere, produced in them great vacillation. During that whole period, Diganu's affection assumed a more decisive character; and hav- ing obtained Chretien's approbation, he resolved to terminate all future doubt and alarm, by proposing to her acceptance the matrimonial relation. The Surgeon whom Chretien had engaged to at tend at Lorette, about this time, and prior to the direct proffer of marriage, visited Diganu ; and requested in- formation respecting the young woman to whom he had been called to afford medical aid at the Indian village ; as the squaws had communicated to one of ?he Pieties, the event which had occurred during the previous winter, and he was directed to ascertain the fate of the unfortunate girl. Diganu evaded the sub ject by a reference to Chretien. 25 That evening was devoted to an investigation of the causes of this suspicious research— but as neither Diganu nor Chretien could possibly divine any plausi- ble reason for the Surgeon's mysterious inquiry, after so long an interval had elapsed ; Louise was apprized of the fact. " Then I am lost — she remarked in agony — the villains will discover me. They will take me from vouj and I shall be miserable." "No authority upou earth shall separate us — answer ed Diganu vehemently — if you will put yourself within my power to protect you, by becoming my wife." " Wife ! — retorted Louise in extreme unfeigned sur prise — I have loved you as a sister. Wife ! — would you marry misery ? — would you marry a friendless, outcast, wretched orphan ?" She was so overpowered, that her conflicting emotions only found relief in a gush of tears. As soon as she was in a measure becalmed, Diganu answered with affectionate sensibility. — " I care not who you are, or what you are. For nearly a year, you have been all to me ; and Chretien knows, that you are the constant blessing of our lives." Here Chretien interposed™" When Diganu confided his intention to me, I expressed to him — and here he 'ook their right hands and joined them within his owr; 2Q — as I now do to you both, my most cordial approba lion — and crossing himself, he added — Sainte Mere de Dieu ! ayez pitie de nous: Holy mother of God. have mercy upon us!" Louise blushed; trembled; hesitated; but at length replied — "if no other means can be devised to preserve me from my persecutors and dangers, 1 will place my future comfort in your hands." This preliminary being satisfactorily adjusted ; it now became essential to prepare Chretien tor the pro- posed interview with the Surgeon. Louise imparted no additional information. It was her unalterable pur- pose, never more to return whence she had escaped : and rather thaw experience this cala ity- — "if no other mode exists to avert the horrors I anticipate— she said, and her convulsed movements proved them to be no fiction —I would fly to the end of the earth and suffer every possible torture; trusting in the mercy of that God who already has permitted you once to deliver me from going down to the pit, and by whoe suspected of heresy, because you have encouraged her. She has great sins to atone for in disobeying the Priests. She has lost the benefif of the cross on her forehead by departing from the Church. Take care ; for by receiving her opinions, you will blot out the cross on your own head, and thus rush into misery. You know that if we do not do as the Priests order us, w<- shall not have their pardon and unction when we die. nor shall we obtain the comfort of their masses in another world. Be upon your guard. Give up Louise at once, peaceably. Take care of yourself. Keep away from heretics. Hearken to the Priests ; and then you will be happy. This reference to the crosses imprinted upon Louise and Diganu, rendered the information conveyed by their anonymous correspondent more alarming — be- cause it assuredly implied an acquaintance with Louise and Diganu and their prior life^of the very early parts of which they themselves were altogether ignorant. The only particular which either Diganu or Louise had ever explained to each other, was in reference to 39 the expression of Louise, when the proposal of mar riage was so abruptly but formally made ; and when she described herself as a " wretched orphan." ( >n a subsequent occasion, Diganu remarked — " this can be no objection. I am an orphan too; and never knew what the intercourse or feelings of friendship and affec- tion were, except vith you and Chretien." When he had concluded the letter, Chretien remark- ed—" We cannot live long in this state of alarm and uncertainty ; but the alternatives seem so dreadful that of the three, I am inclined to adopt the plan of self-defence : to delay your marriage for a short period^ to provide a safe-guard, and to keep as much in the house as possible." Diganu observed — " This plan is impracticable Duty often calls me from home : you are generally away during the hours of business ; in whom could we confide ?■ " Nobody — answered < 'hretien— but what do you think of an application to the Governor ?" i( The Governor 1 — exclaimed Louise — he would not dare to do any thing in reference to the matter, except as the Bishop and the Priests direct. Besides the continual alarms and fears would be more afflictive than the reality. One is sudden calamity ; the other would be never ending bitterness, with additional danger in the end, for no advantage," Chretien however was dissatisfied, and again inquir- ed — " Is there not one person to be trusted ?" " I be- lieve not— replied Diganu — who bears a higher charac 40 lev for honor, than the Doctor? and yet circuity stances convince me. that he has been the main-spring of this treacherous plot against us. Besides, could I even trust in your fidelity, Chretien, if the Pretre ordered you to betray us." The question was apropos. His unreserved sub- jection to a Jesuit ; the endeared claims of friendship from childhood ; and the sacred obligations of honor and duty, all were here at once arrayed together in direct collision. Louise half smiled in her tears, as she contemplated the internal conflict which agitated Chretien. With great embarrassment, after a long pause, he replied — " You know, Diganu, I could not disobey the Priest without risking the salvation of my soul." " Eh bien ! very well — rejoined Diganu— We are bound together by worldly interest ; by long confiden- tial familiarity ; by domestic residence ; and by ah most brotherly ties — and yet if that Pretre who was here before, came and demanded Louise during my ab- sence, 3'ou would give her into his power; or if he now entered with some ruffians to seize her by force, in- stead of resisting him and defending me, you would unite with him at his command to rob me of mv greatest earthly comfort." ({ No, no, indeed ! answered his astounded friend, startled at this picture of treachery and priestly despo tism— I could not betray and desert you." 41 Ah, my friend ! — remarked Louise, very tenderly — you know not ) T ourself. Much as I respect your prin ciples and spirit; I know your frailty in this point. You would not consider yourself in that case as per- fidious or cruel. It would be a mere fulfilment of a duty consecrated by your fancied religion in its most authoritative claims. 1 cannot trust you. It would certainly destroy Diganu, and only endanger yourself/ Chretien appeared to be vexed at her suspicion? and want of confidence — " be not displeased — she subjoined, kindly offering him her hand — I judge from myself. Three years since, I should as readily have obeyed a Priest's command in every thing, as I should row obstinately refuse to comply with it." ( - Louise is correct— remarked Diganu — twelve months ago, I am certain that there is no action how- ever wicked, which could have been committed without the certainty of an ignominious punishment by law ; that I should not have performed, if the Pretre had enjoined it. I should have risked any thing to fulfL his orders, confident that he was able to save me from all trouble/ 5 In this declaration, Chretien acquiesced ; and Louise therefore speedily convinced them, that it was prefer- able for one to suffer than all ; that her condition at the worst could not be more afflictive and perilous, than when they first saw ber ; that it would only aggravate her sorrows to know, that her beloved friends were alsc 4 m exposed to the Priest's ruthless spite ; that it was fai more safe to terminate their perplexities without delay ; that if their fears were unauthorised, their future com- fort would only be increased after their disquietudes had vanished ; and that therefore to Lorette they would proceed in the morning as already arranged. The interruption occasioned by the letter, and the subsequent conversation had partially stengthened iLouise for her promised engagement. From the final acquiescence of her friends in her decision, she had felt encouraged ; and silently casting all her cares upon God who careth for those who trust in him, and men- tally invoking his grace and protection ; she once more composed herself by the side of Diganu to narrate hev ibrmer experience NARRATIVE BY LOUISE At last, while bitter tears I shed, To heaven I raised my prayer, And found, when earthly joys are fled, There still is comfort there. 44 1 am totally ignorant — Louise slated — of my pa- rents, my birth-place, and my age. I was never ad= dressed except as Louise ; and never permitted to assume any name but Louise M. My earliest recollec- tion is connected with Point aux Trembles. I re- member a farmer's wife with whom I lived ; and also a Nun, who often came to the house, and engaged my childish attachment, by giving me trinkets and sweet- meats. I was early taught to read, write, and sew, by this Nun ; and continued there, after my first impres- sions, about four years, when I was sent to the Ursu- line Nunnery at Quebec, and was duly instructed in every art which is there used. My old friend the Nun 1 saw very frequently ; but as I grew up, she appeared to feel little or no interest in me. I made tolerable proficiency, and was declared rather tall and womanish for my age, which was never communicated to me. I consider myself, however, to be about twenty yeare old, but I cannot speak with precision. ' l It is now nearly five years ago, that I was removed 44 back to Point aux Trembles, and was employed for lw# years in a variety of offices about that establishment oftheReligieuses. During this period, my mind was in constant training by the Nuns and the Pretres. The whole course of the ceremonies, and all the exact rou- tine of the forms of the Missal, I attended with the most scrupulous regularity, and the least known devia- tion would have made me wretched. To the authority of the holy church, and to the lofty character and god like power of the Priests to command, pardon, save and curse the people here and forever, £ bowed down with the most implicit belief, and with the completest submis- sion ; and with a full persuasion that in complying with the Pretre's wishes, I was fulfilling the law of God, Hints were often give me, that I must become a nun ; and all the superior virtue and wonderful sanctity of that mode of life were constantly set before me in the most enchanting colors. The third year of my resi- dence had neaily elapsed ; and it was proposed, thai the next year should be devoted by me to all those pursuits which would enable me to enter upon my Noviciate, and speedily to attain the honors, as they impiously term it, of the "angelic" life. It was at this crisis, that the change in my little affairs occurred which has been so externally afflictive, and so consolatory in heart, " At a short distance from the convent, resided an old decrepid woman who had migrated from Guernsey, She was little known ; and her age, and infirmities and isolated condition excused her from much intercourse 45 with the neighboring people. I was often sent to visit her, to inquire into her condition, and to carry her tri= fling articles of clothing and food. She gradually de- clined ; and it was clearly perceptible, that her decease was not very distant. On one occasion when we were alone — " Ma chere, ray dear ! said Marguerite— I hear bad news concerning you." 'What do you mean !" was my reply. "I am told — she continued — that you are going into l lie nunnery, after a little while ; and I am sorry for it." 'Why? — I asked — They say that a Nun passes ?he most holy, peaceful and heavenly life possible." " Ah ! ma chere ; my dear — she uttered with much ieeling — vous vous etes meprise, you are intirely mis- taken. It is the most miserable, and the most guilty life in the world." " How can that be 7 — I inquired — What do you know of Convents?" " I was born in France — she replied — 1 have seen much of the world ; and if you will not tell my history fc any person until after I am buried, you shall hear something which Marguerite has seen." The promise was made. " I was formerly and foi nuanv vears — the old woman informed me — a menial 4* 4.6 servant about a convent in France,, and the evils wtrtci* were practised within its walls exceed all belief. A* last, I began to consider whether it was possible for a religion to be true and from God, which allowed such wicked doings. Ah ! ces Pieties- Jesuites — said the emaciated Christian, with all the energy which she was capable to exert — s'il y a un Diable sur la terre, ^eux-ci le sont. Ah ! those Jesuit priests; if there is a levil upon earth, they are he.' 5 " I contrived to leave Normandy, and cross over to Guernsey } and there I resided, until I came to thr< ountry. I have been among the same people in Cana- da. They are all alike, not quite so bad here, because they are more scattered, among fewer people, easier noticed, and a little afraid of the Protestant Govern ment, " My prejudices — remarked Louise — as you may well suppose, were all excited ; and in my heart, ] wished the old widow every possible curse. She saw my opinions in my wrathful countenance, and allayed my anger by her remarks — " You dislike to hear these :hings now — said Marguerite — so did 1 once. ] had been taught by my Mother, that the Priest was in God's place ; that the Pope had the command of Heaven, Earth, and Hell ; and that the Abbes, the Cures, and ^hePretres must be feared and obeyed in every thing, or we should be miserable in this world and in the next. Thus I grew up to maturity, as docile, and as submis >ive to the Priest as my neighbors : and like them, nol 47 'tess seif-willed and disobedient towards God. When 1 became a young woman ; I went into the service of a gentleman who never went to Mass, or Confession. He was a rich man ; and the Priest allowed him a constant dispensation for disobeying all the laws of the Church for a good sum of money, which was paid every year. I have often heard him tell among his friends when they visited him, in what way the Priests maintained their power and hood-winked the people. It is almost all done at Confession, and through the women. Children are taught from their infancy, thai all persons out of the Church will be accursed. The boys are retained in bondage, by ignorance, or fear, oi interest, or their connections, or indifference, or corrup tion and participation in crime ; for as they can buy absolution for all sins, they can practise every vice, and by a little money, or by serving the Priests, they can blot out all the account against them. '•But even all these schemes would not complete the design^ without the aid of the women. They are therefore trained with all care into passive obedience and non-resistance to the Priest . They are made to believe ; ! hat every thing is true which he says, and that every thing is proper which he desires. This dreadfully wick- ed doctrine is sanctioned by the assurance, that he can pardon every sin ; and that without his good-will, no person will go to Heaven. Under this influence, the women are all entangled. The Priest, by confes"sion T discovers all their inclinations and thoughts. He then holds the rod over them to force them to his own an- 48 godly purposes. Ah \ ma chere, prenez garde ; my dear, take care. Watch around you. l„ook at every thing. Do not be afraid to examine for yourself Above all things, never become a nun. In my coun- try, the Pretres could tell some wonderful stories about the convents; and unless I am mistaken; many a dismal, wicked, and bloody history would be found out in Canada ; if all the Priests were not in a league to help each other, and keep their mutual secrets. They first make the women sinners, and then so frighten them, that they dare not expose their scandalous prac- tices. Once, a modest young woman used to come here, who went into a Nunnery by the order of two Priests, after she had a child by each of them. What is become of them, I never could hear ; but the last time I saw her, she was one of the worst and most im- pudent creatures, I ever heard talk." " At this part of Marguerite's narrative — said Louise ; my attention was deeply arrested ; for I fancied, that I could perceive a resemblance in this trait, between the Nun who so many years before had been so kind to me, and her demeanor at our last interview. u The feeble Christian woman continued — " I left the Roman Church in Guernsey — as 1 have always been ailing ; and nobody cared much about me, I have contrived to live here without being discovered and persecuted. Ma chere ! my dear, how old are you V • 4 To this question — remarked Louise — I could on I v answer — "I have never heard, I cannot tell." 49 41 Then it is as I have long suspected — added Mar= guerite — mais n' importe, no matter. You are just now at the right age, and hold the very fittest sentiments to be the subject for a Priest's stratagem. Hearken to a dying woman who can have no interest in deceiving you ; I may not have strength or another opportunity Lo give you my advice. W lien a Priest offers to violate your modesty, whether by force, or by enticement, or by his pretended priestly authority, or by Jesuitical finesse; attempting to persuade you that vice is virtue, or to pal- liate sin under the pretext of his power to absolve you, and his ability to render you as pure, as if you had never known defilement ; listen not to him even for a moment. Bear all privations ; and submit to every torture, rather than voluntarily yield to his seductive wiles or his menacing intimidations." •I was so shocked at these insinuations — Louise re- marked — that I could scarcely believe my ears, or ad- mit that the old widow had not wandered out of he* senses into a delirium. When I had recovered from my surprise and confusion : 1 asked her tremulously, "is it possible such things can be true ?" " As true — Marguerite replied — as that I am upon the very verge of eternity ; and from very indistinct recollections of past things, which you have brought, afresh to my mind ; if you are not the daughter of a Priest and a Nun, then I am much deceived." i5 This operated upon me*— said Louise — like & 50 charm ; and I endeavored to discover the secrets con- nected with my infancy; but my effort was vain. The old woman either knew nothing certain upon the subject ; or she thought it preferable not, from suspi- cion only, to expose me to jeopardy and trouble." Having repeated her advice and warning to me in a most impressive manner, and agaiti exacted my so- lemn promise to retain her secret — ' I would give you, my dear ! — subjoined Marguerite — my bible ; but now it will do you no good. You could not read and keep it. It has long been my only comfort, as it first also taught me the way of piety and peace. I shall leave it to the orphan child whom 1 have adopted, with all my other trifles. If the Cure steals and burns the blessed book, his shall be the sin. I thank God, that I was enabled to place the boy in comfort in Quebec, where the Priests will never have any power over him. When you have experienced, as I foresee you will, the fulfilment of my worst suspicions ; and when you think of your present religion as I now do ; if you can — and her heart - melting tones, with her affecting, pathetic and tender looks will never be forgotten — procure a JNew Testament. O read it ! O pray for wisdom from God to understand it ! and you will do as 1 have long ago done. You will burn the crucifix, the images, the rosary and the missal, with all the other deceitful relics of idolatry ; and then prepare for sorrow and persecution. But stand fast in your purity — grasping my hand with all her strength — and God will deliver you !" 51 "I listened to Marguerite- — said Louise— with great interest. Her emaciated appearance, and the deep toned pathos and solemnity with which she thus un- veiled her true character ; the causes of the change wrought in her principles and conduct ; the personal application of subjects to myself of which I never before had formed a distinct idea ; the appalling precipice on which she represented me as standing, ready to plunge into the abyss of irrecoverable degradation and crime ; the new liijht in which all that I had deemed sacred was presented to me, as arrayed in the most depraved and most loathsome deformity ; and her prophetic cau= tious and intimations produced a complicated thought- fulness and tremor, which I had never before realised, "As some other visitor approached ; she took my hand again; once more received my double promise to retain her secret, and watch for my own security ; and there our intercourse ended. "Duringthe remaining daysof her mortal existence no opportunity occurs* to exchange more than the speak- ing features and our united hands could communicate ? but it appeared to console her. The little that she ut- tered was in very cautious language ; that her true religious opinions might not expose her tovexation while living, and her mortal remains to insult after her spirit, had winged its flight to Paradise. I thought even then*, that her expressions differed from our common phrases ; but blind as I was, like all the people there, I did not comprehend her true meaning ; now I think 1 under- stand what she intended. When she spoke of repenf- 52 ance towards God; I supposed she had done all needful penance. She talked of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, as the rock of her hopes ; and we naturally but very stupidly applied it to the Pope, and Peter, and the Virgin Mary. When she mentioned the comfort that she felt in knowing that her "transgressions were for- given, and that her sin was covered ;" we of course in Cerpreted it of the Pretre's plenary absolution. She told us of " seeing Jesus ;" and we fancied that she was booking at the crucifix ! — Ah ! my friends ; how blind we are, who are thus brought up under Roman Priests ! Well may we always pray : " O Lord, turn us from darkness to light ; open our eyes that we may behold wondrous things out of thy law !'l 11 Providentially for Marguerite, the Cure was absent during the last days of her existence ; and only return- ed in time to administer his extreme unction ; when the dying believer was totally unconscious of all things external. About the end of his soul-deceiving cere mony, she breathed no more. • ". After her interment ; her Bible was found ; and well do I recollect the fury which it produced. The Cure raged like a madman ; and his silly followers all vented their noisy execrations. Marguerite's hypocrisy and heresy, with the lamentations of her neighbors for their kindness and attentions to the helpless and dying- heretic, were permanent themes of discussion, until time alone allayed the storm. I was frequently ques- tioned about her Bible by the Priest and Nuns : but. I pleaded perfect ignorance of the matter, and denied that I had ever seen it, which was true. It was finally concluded, that what a Jesuit, with all his eagle-eyed and sleepless perspicacity, and Nuns, with all their ex quisite cunning craftiness, could not discover, would not be discerned by an unsuspecting girl, who had never heard of la sainte Bible, or le nouveau Tes lament ; the holy Bible or the New Testament ;: Female curiosity powerfully impelled me ; and I be , gan to feel a restless uneasiness, from the |novel sub jects which Marguerite had presented to my contem plation. My time was partly appropriated to visit? among the different Nuns in Quebec ;*tliat I might become fully initiated in all the routine which would devolve upon me, when I was placed upon my Novici ate. The scenes which I witnessed certainly would have attracted little or no observation, had my mind not been directed to watchfulness, and had not a clue fjeen gwen to me to interpret them ; but those scene? gradually corroborated the views of a convent's interior, which the widow had presented to me in her repulsive picture of the turpitude of Nunneries. Being consid ?red as completely within their power; Isoon was admitted to the more hidden proceedings Atfhese se ret recesses of human life. ,: As my intercourse became mere familiar, and the reserve of novel acquaintance gradually disappeared my convictions of the truth of Marguerite's statement became not only more definite, but stronger, and more abiding. The statelv prudishness exhibited befc»* 5 J4 strangers was strikingly contrasted with the unseemly and indecorous levity in their unobserved and private pursuits ; and the sly, leering, licentious Jesuit, when conversing with a Nun alone, or with the two Consoci ated sisters who occupied the same apartment, was a very different individual from the gloomy and motion less featured Pretre in the streets, and at the altar, H This metamorphosis, which in many instances I should have thought impossible, first excited my suspi- cions. Watchfulness, as the dying woman had pre- monished me, soon produced incredulity. In the sanc- tified exterior of the Pretres ; I perceived nought but hypocritical assumptions. This naturally led to doubts respecting the boasted super-excellence, not only of the actors, but of their system of priestcraft. Still I believed all their doctrines as far as I knew them, and tacitly admitted all their claims. Amid the gorgeousness of their ceremonial, and the consequent intoxication of the senses, I generally forgot all the contradictory realities, which I saw enacted behind the curtain, where the mask vvas discarded, " Several months of the year revolved in this man aer ; the greater portion of which I can only describe, ander the similitude of a person in a reverie faintly con- scious of the passing exterior scenes, but chiefly absorbed in his own mental abstractions. 11 Thus I was increasingly impressed with the ac curacy of Marguerite's views ; yet I could not -have cited 55 even one single fact distinctly to justify my inferences, The circumstances which attracted my notice were doubtless enacted before me as a decoy. They were disguised under such endearing names, and so extenu- ated, and pruned of their offensive luxuriance, that often I condemned my harsh suspicions, which flowed from innate feelings of propriety, and the spontaneous dictates of natural conscience. "1 was providentially extricated from this vacillation of mind on a ude from Quebec into the country. The Nuns directed me to reside for a short period, under the pretence of purer air, near Jacques Cartier. A female companion attended me, whom in vain I attempted to identify. Her voice was the only character of which I could retrace any memorial ; but as that is so decep- tive a criterion of judgment, I quickly decided (hat my fellow traveller was a stranger. After much ordinary chit-chat, the Nun, for I am now convinced that she was one of them, although so disguised a? to be un- known, asked me some questions respecting my ideas of a conventual life, my age, my predilections, and my news of the future. I replied as cautiously and inde- cisively as I possibly could. The siren pretended to express her delight at my good sense, bashfuluess. and prudence; and kissed me in approbation of my opinions ; After a short period, she artfully introduced again aiy wishes about the Nunnery : and by way of argu- ment, as she said, she would state the objections usual- ly advanced by the Heretics to a convent, and a refuta- 56 ion of then. When she recapitulated all my own ideas upon the subject, I was surprised ; but her answers were extremely weak and frivolous. She however trium- phed in the ingenuity of her replies, and the greatness o! her superiority to the opponents of a monastic life ; and having doubtless presumed that her preliminary object was effected; she asked me— "how old are you, Louise ?'■' " I know not — was my reply — nor can any person tell me, that I ever yet saw." " Let me look at you — she rejoined ; and turning back my hair as if she would view my physiognomy — O ho ! what have we here ! — and she kissed the cross on my forehead — this is a beautiful mark, and proves /ou to be a true daughter of our Holy Mother, the hurch." " I know not — was my answer — who imprinted that cross, nor the object for which it was placed ;here." " A token of love, child, no doubt — was her rejoin der ; casting upon me a most expressive, but disgusting look, which made me blush, for I was filled with shame — and you may be proud to wear it. But what makes you blush so ? were you ever in love V " I returned a negative to this question ; with which • he expressed her satisfaction, cautioning me against 04 fhe admission of any unholy predilection for wicked 2nen, as inconsistent with the vows of the sisterhood. She then began a long eulogy upon the happiness of residing in a Convent ; where persons might enjoy every pleasure of life without restraint, unreproached, and exempt from the fear of discovery. {; She managed this most difficult part of her under- taking with great address. Her eyes were fixed upon me with very intense scrutiny. She analyzed my f eelings with the utmost accuracy, from the involunta- ry movements of my countenance. She advanced, retreated, moved around, was softened or emboldened, just as she perceived most effectual. Her serpentine wiles and cautious approaches finally convinced me, that this was only the prelude to the serious drama, hi which I was doomed soon to be a chief character ; and my promise to the dying Marguerite recurred in all its sanctity and efficacy The consequent composure depicted on my countenance completely deceived that female seducer ; for she mistook the calmness of shield- ed purity, for the tame yielding of corrupted virtue. Enough was unfolded during that ride to convince me, that without the impediments to which the old French woman alluded, and even with them, Monasteries are the earthly vestibule to the fearful abodes of guilt and eternal despair. From that time, my resolution was fixed, that I would never commence the proposed Noviciate •' Three days did the artful creature remain with me 5* 58 at a house, the inmates of which were more repulsive than my heated imagination had depicted ; from the dislike which I had imbibed, notwithstanding her flat tering delineations. There I first saw what had never before existed in my fancy. Then I truly felt the reality of Marguerite's aversion to a pretended religion, of which such human monsters were the accredited dis < iples and teachers. " After a short period, a Pretre entered the scene; and unless my anticipations are perfectly fallacious, w r e shall see him to-morrow at Lorette — the same wretch who m the other day denounced you. I could not see hip person ; but the tones of his voice are too strongly en graven upon my memory ever to be erased. At the house whither I was sent, were tw T o females, adepts in **very species of vice. All their artifices were directed to undermine my innate resistance to their assaults upon my principles. Their shameless examples were added to their other efforts. When they were alone with me and the Priest, every attempt was made to in- duce me to join in their disgusting familiarities with him. Invariably did I refuse, and although it was im- possible to hinder or to escape from the Pretre's impu dent blandishments, yet the solemn purposes of my soul became continually more stern. " The arguments which the Priest and his associates ised to extirpate my delicacy, only served to refine and .strengthen it ; and I e.isily adopted Marguerite's con •'fusion, that a religion which permitted and justified 69 such flagrant violations of all that is pure and consci entious ; which can suborn agents to seduce innocence ; and insnare the weak ; which sanctifies vice, degrades virtue, and confounds all moral distinctions, was in curably corrupt. Not that I had any right to infer from the conduct of a few, that the whole body were trans gressors ; but as I became gradually more initiated into their secret mysteries, I perceived that which was good disappear, and that which was only evil, to sway thr sceptre. " Having been thus instructed in my first lesson ; at the end of a month, I was sent to Quebec, to learn some additional rules in this hopeful science. What I saw and heard ; and what it was intended I should believe, and when called upon practise, must remain a secret. One thing rather astonished, but yet pleased me ; neither the Superior nor the Religieuses ever ad verted to trie topic of my Noviciate. During this period the life of a Nun was gilded over in its most beauteous array ; and I should most certainly have been insnared, had I not, been influenced by Marguerite's dying com munication. That enabled me to pierce behind the gaudy attractive scenes ; and in the familiarity of all that confidence which two of them dared to exhibit, I beheld the corroding worm which devoured all their usefulness anVJ peace. • I was agnedly admitted to the retired hours and occupation! f most of the Nuns. Some were fasti- diously res ed ; others acted their part throughout ; 60 some privately displayed their genuine tempers ; but two only candidly unveiled those living tombs of good- ness and virtue, and those dread sepulchral abodes of hypocrisy and pollution. I perceived, that a monastic life is a complete masquerade, in which all the charac- ters are either devotees of vice, or skeletons of misery ; but all without dignity, or goodness, or comfort ; whore all the glories of which they boast are entirely un- known, " At the commencement of the last month of my pro bationary year ; about twenty days before I first saw you ; I was again remanded to the country. Who was my companion on that occasion I know not ; if she was the same woman as on the former journey, then there is no exterior appearance which she could not conceal or counterfeit. " We started from Quebec, to my utter surprise and dread, in the afternoon, in a large covered carriole, Which way we travelled, where we stopped, or at what hour of the night we arrived, I can form no idea. Some time after dark, a Pretre entered the carriole as if trav- elling the same road ; and the conversation soon as sumed a most repulsive character. I presently com plained of fatigue, and composed myself as if for sleep, anxious to unravel their plot. Nothing occurred to at tract my notice, until after the female had examined mc ; and ascertained, as she concluded, that I was frsleep, Curiosity alone kept me quiet, while I heaid ui diem explain the whole mystery ; for the closing scene was now to be enacted. " It appeared, that this was the identical Pretre wit! whom I had been so disgusted at Jacques Carriers ' t that we were then going to his house ; that I was to be introduced under some fictitious character, if I could not be altogether concealed ; and that of course, I was t® be the slave of his will, until the time appointed foi the commencement of my Noviciate, when 1 was to be transferred, like others who had passed through the same guilty path, to the convent; and as it would be useless afterwards to complaitr, the life of a JSun would be preferred by me, as by their former victims, to their malevolence and persecution. The most shocking part of all this infamous arrangement was this ; that the Pretre's atrocious purpose, in case of necessity, was to be accomplished by every extremity of violence We eventually arrived at a spot where the Priest left us ; and after some distance, we alighted at a house, and there passed the remainder ot the night. " ( >n the following day, after a considerable ride, m> female companion and myself entered a church, and upon a signal being given to her, we proceeded to the sacristy, which was immediately fastened from without ; and by a private, if not generally unknown avenue, we passed into the Priest's habitation. When I saw him, remembering their conversation of the night before, and reflected upon Marguerite, and her strange prediction ; my heart sunk within me, and I was ready 62 to surrender all hope. But wiien I was in the room where they ordered me to disrobe, I endeavored to pray unto God, through Jesus Christ, in words of my own It was the first time I had ever done so ; and I was supported. Marguerite's last words rushed into my mind — " stand fast in your purity, and God will deliv- er you" — and I resolved, through Divine assistance, tc abide every trial, rather than thus to be sacrificed bv those panders of iniquity. The odious hag remained about four days. All that ingenuity could davise was attempted, to induce my compliance with the Pretre's desire. When coaxing failed, every menace which revenge, authority and disappointment could denounce; was not less ineffectually applied. She finally left me completely in the power of a monster, of whose nefa nous designs, unawares to them, 1 had become fully apprized. " Several days he tormented me with his wicked pro posals and forced caresses. He adduced all the varied deceptions which Marguerite had detailed. He boasted of the authority of his Church, the blessedness of his absolution, the comfort of enjoying a Priest's favor, and the satisfaction of a Nun's life, with its glorious reward. His blasphemy repelled me as much as his obscenity. My reply was short, but peremptory — Ci I will never consent to your base design." " On the eighth day after the woman who conducted me had left us, a letter w as delivered to me, written by ?he same person who has addressed you this evening 63 The substance of it, as you may easily suppose, was to persuade me to submit to the Priest's wishes ; for he would have his way, and longer resistance would only make it the more painful for me. It was closed in the very same words — ? Do not offend the Priests. Be- lieve what they tell you. Do just as they say : and all will yet be well." During two or three following days he desisted from his importunities, but he still distressed and insulted me with his pretended endear- ments. He was allowing me not only an opportu- nity to consider the contents of the letter, but also to be assured from the testimony of my eyes and ears, ac- cording to Marguerite's debasing account that young women and those of our sex who possess any influence in society are often merely unconscious instruments to execute the Cure's designs. The females doubtless sup- posed, that they and the Pretre were concealed from all human observation ; yet the grossest acts of disso- luteness were performed, where I could not but under- stand them, expressly to influence my mind to yield to the impression, that as these private matters could not be suspected, and much less known to the world, they produced no disgrace, and therefore, that it was folly, and useless for me, not to conform to what was obviously general and established usage. u Four or five days before you found me, the Pretre was visited by some of the Habitaus, to whom he com municated, that on the following Sunday, immediately after Mass. he should go to Quebec on business of im portance to the Church ; that he should not return until 64 die day before the festival, and that he should leave a woman named Guise, to take care of his house. From ihat time until the following Saturday, I suffered every variety of anguish. His conduct was indescribable. By oraftyallurementsatone time, by the most intimidating threats at another, by urging the duty of obedience to his priestly authority, and by reminding me of the scenes and examples which my situation had compel led me to witness : sometimes insulting me with his indecent familiarities ; and at other times, almost pro ceeding to the brutal violence of superior force — so thai upon one occasion, had I not been endowed with unu- sual energy to resist his assault, he would have consum- mated his horrid purpose. I had no rest by day, and was afraid to sleep by night, as the ruffian was always on the watch to take advantage of any moment, when [ was unprepared to repel his atrocious attempts. He had appointed the Saturday evening for his tool to arrive, that he might direct her how to act during his absence. When she appeared, my whole soul abhorred her sensual, witch-like countenance. She was well tu- tored for the task. I was represented to be a girl out of her mind ; who had been sent to him by a family relative, to provide an asylum for me in Quebec, and that was the reason of his journey. He also stated. that I was perfectly, inoffensive and peaceable ; and only commanded her carefully to watch me. The minions of his wickedness pleaded that she could not stay in the house alone. " I shall be scared out of my wits too — said Guise — your reverence must, let me g< 65 away at night. I will take care that the poor giri ^hali do no harm." u This produced a long altercation, but the Pretre iinally was obliged to consent* He supposed that I was ignorant of this arrangement ; and presuming upon his power over me, and the safety of the dungeon in which I uas immured, for the only window in the ?oom was effectually barred without, so as to preclude all escape ; he perceived no other mode to retain his prisoner, than by complying wilh Guise's obstinacy To have confided the secret of my presence even to his Sacristan, was fraught with the greatest risk ; as ma ny of the Seigniors, although they nominally adhere to the church, are known secretly to despise their ceremo- nies, and t© abhor the priests ; and through a man's un willingness to aid in the infliction of unalterable misery upon a young woman, which might be communicated to the Seignior, the Sacristan could not be trusted. He contrived to despatch the woman away, under some pretext, in the evening, and then disclosed all his base design. He was going to Quebec ; and while there. he should arrange the plan for my removal to the Nun- nery speedily after the holidays. " I shall return next Tuesday — said the Pretre — and remember — uttering a most dreadful execration, with a petrifying look of ma fi^nant sensuality ; which even now fills me with horror -even if you die, (hat night you shall be mine." u Never — I angrily replied — upon no pretext, through ao artifice by no force, will I yield myself to yo;tr desires." " He merely added — " Nous verrons, we shall see"— *nd left me. The loathed Guise was my companion for the night " In my dreaming drowsiness, as well as when I was t\illy awake, my head was filled with manoeuvres and contrivances. My roving imagination pondered upon zvery variety of stratagem, by which I might avoid the calamity that impended over me. My aversion to the Nunnery became an additional incentive; and I resolved never again to enter that polluted woful region, unless by force. I frequently was startled in the night to rational Recollection, from the strong excitement of my mind ; but 1 could retrace nothing, except an indistinct comfortable feeling, which encouraged a hope of yet eluding the Pretre's grasp. " This expectation, however, was quelled, when in Lhe morning I discovered, that every article of my cloth ing had disappeared except my house dress. Conse- quently, even if it were possible to fly, the coldness of the weather would speedily terminate my sorrows ; and I shuddered at the idea of freezing to death. While the Priest and his imp were at mass, I made a discov- ery which became the main spring of my elopement Guise had arrived the night before in her usual com- mon clothes, having brought her extra Sunday apparel The same bonnet and cloak which you found with 67 ibis shawl and the rnoccasons, were laid aside, jig doubt, to be resumed on Monday. As soon as mass wae finished, the Pretre departed. I heard him direct Guise to take care, when she left the house in the evening, not to go away very early, to leave no candle, and to be careful thai the outside door, and the door leading to the sacristy, and especially the entrance to the stair case, were all safely locked and bolted : so that my dungeon should be secure. As he went out of the room to his carriole, he cast his gloating eyes upon me, and having said — " Au revoir" — to my inexpressible delight, the Jesuit and one of his young dependant? drove off, and soou disappeared. u I had hoped to have made use of the woman in some mode to aid my design ; but she was not less in- tractable towards me, than obstinate with the Priest. When I spoke to her, she would look at me with dis- dain — " Pauvre miserable, poor wretch" — this was her sole reply. I attempted to soften her by kind and flattering language, but all was ineffectual. She mut- tered to herself in soliloquy ; avowing her unwilling- ness to stay after dark ; her wish to have a man in the house ; and a numoer of other sinJlar com- plaints. When she paused ; I would interpose and de- dare ; " You must not go away. You must not leave me. If any persons come to the house, I will go out *o them — I will not stop here by myself." "To comfort and deceive me, as she thought, she would reply — " 1 will stay with you. I will lock all thp doors early at night. We will take a long sleep.' 68 " I perceived her artifice, but it fully answered my purpose. Several persons came to the Priest's house in the afternoon. I was thrust into my own apart ment ; but as Guise suspected that I should be listen ing, she avowed tier intention of staying all night, and also of procuring some woman of the neighborhood to keep her company. After some of her visitors had re tired, I heard her move towards my door I pretended to be asleep, as she came into the room. Convinced that I was insensible to their conversation, upon her return to her companions, I heard her promise a man to accompany him to a great dance, which was to be held that evening about three miles distant. He engaged to bring his carriole at eight o'clock, and drive her back by day-light. " When all her associates had left her ; Guise began to make her preparations for the night. She filled the fire-place with wood ; and arranged every little conve- nience, in case, as she said, I should want any thing in the night. I was delighted to find that the bread was not removed , out of the sitting room ; and that she seemed to have forgotton her common dress. You must remember that the Sunday afternoon was stormy ; and this furnished Guise with an excuse for retiiing to rest at an early hour. The bells of the passing car doles, I suppose, were the signal by which she pro posed that we should lay down for the night. She had disposed a pallet for herself in the exterior room; and when I had noticed the exact place of the va- rious articles, I partially disrobed, and apparently re- signed myself to sleep. After a short period, supp© 69 sing me to be unconscious ef her plans ; she cautiously lighted the can lie, and approaching my bed, as she perceived no symptoms of wakefulness — " Pauvre mis- erable ! poor wretch V — said the callous miscreant, for now I have no doubt that she Was privy to the whole conspiracy : and then began to array herself for the frolic. By the reflection of the light, I soon ascertain* ed, that her meaner apparel was still where she first had laid it, and that she was ready to depart. She did not wait long before a flight knock at the door intima- ted the arrival of her partner. She then filled the stove, secured it from danger, surveyed all the doors, once more examined me, and then withdrew, locking me in, to dark ness, silence, and solitude Surely nothing but Divine goodness and mercy, and the hope that my plan to escape would succeed, supported me at that fearful moment. My heart sunk down like lead within me, when I heard the external door closed, and the carriole driven away ; thus leaving me, as it were, in- fombed alive in that above-ground sepulchre. I hastily arose, commended myself to God's protection in broken but sincere and earnest prayer ; and felt inspired with flexible an enemy and scrutinize^ might lead to very unpleasant and perilous developments. After a pause, therefore, the Cure mildly rejoined — " this matter can possibly be compromised. Your demand, however, fc 8 # 94 not within my power ; but I will submit the whole case to the Bishop, and inform you of his decision." 11 Cela ne vaut rien, this avails not — answered the lawyer — the Prelate is already apprised of this matter* He has been consulted, and is a virtual accessary to the crime, probably both before and after the outrage. This was implied in his own declaration. Instead of direct- ing his censures against these violators of female purity, and these transgressors of all right, law and decorum, he palliates their enormity, pleads the official character of the criminal perpetrators, and denounces the loudest thunders of ecclesiastical indignation against the in- jured, agonized sufferer, who has been robbed of his consolation, and his most precious treasure." " If the facts be as you describe them— artfully re- plied the Priest — it will be preferable for me to represent them to my ecclesiastical superior. He will receive my statement with more regard than a complaint from the laity." This Jesuitical finesse was manifestly to gain time But the lawyer decided, that as the delay would not affect the despatch of any legal proceedings, some dis- covery might be made during the interval, especially as Louise had promised that Diganu should hear from her ; and although that event was scarcely to be an- ticipated, yet in her case it was not impossible, Upon these terms the parties separated- As the Cure delayed his answer to the proposal made 95 to him, Rohoirsic again informed bim that he had ob- tained overwhelming evidence to convict the parties, and that all attempts to evade tiie investigation would be fruitless, as the (Governor was informed of the ex- traordinary circumstances connected with the affair of Lorette, and had promised his executive interference, if the ordinary legal process should not be sufficient tc elicit the truth. This communication, being too authoritative to be resisted, was effectual. A few days after he had re- ceived it, the Cure thus replied to the lawyer — " I am directed to state, that as speedily as practicable, an ex- plicit answer will be given you concerning the whole case." Nearly three months had elapsed when the detested Pretre, who before had destroyed their peace, entered the house. Diganu and Chretien recoiled at the sight of him, as if a black snake had darted upon them. His features and manners appeared to be totally changed. The former bore an aspect of benignity, and the latter were polished and affable. The friends expressed not the most distant courtesy, or any token of civility. " I come — said the Jesuit, after a pause, as if he had expected them to inquire into his object — *o pacify your minds respecting Louise. 5 ' It was a cunning prelude. He well knew that her name would constitute a charm and his passport to an audience. Diganu and Chretien nodded assent, ant* % the latter said — "o« that account, we are willing io receive your communication." " Your marriage — continued the Pretre — could not have been permitted on account of your fraternal rela- tion" — Diganu hastil interrupted him with this re- mark — "That remains to be proved. I know so much of your knavish artifices and impostures, that I will now believe nothing where the interests of your church 'ind of your order are concerned, though all the Priests in Canada swear to its truth." A momentary flush of wrath passed over the Je- suit's countenance, which was immediately followed by a derisive smile. " Diganu — replied the Priest — if is of no importance what you and your friend believe, No other mode of impeding an unlawful marriage ex- isted. Circumstances may be true, which it is difficult or dangerous to prove. It will be ruinous to you to produce the testimony which shall absolutely convince you of the certain fact that you are the son of Louise's 1 mother." " What care I for ruin ? — retorted Diganu, over powered with distress — who am I ? what am I / what have I been ? Who, except Chretien, cares for me 7 What difference should 1 feel, if to-morrow I were seized and shipped to Europe? I should only have to rely upon my own exertions to obtain comfort there, the same a? I- have to do in Quebec V 97 When he had thus effused his half thoughtless solilo quy ; the Priest resumed his remarks. " Non pas si vite, not so fast : who watched over you in infancy ? who provided for you in youth ? who contrived for you a tolerable education ? who supplied your wants? who advised you to engage in business % and who has often befriended you, when you wanted pecuniary assistance to carry it on successfully T' " Chretien and his father — answered Diganu — and except Louise, I never yet saw any other human crea- tures who appeared to feel the least solicitude respect- " Tres bon, very good ! — added the Pretre — thee you suppose that Chretien's father, for so many years, has shewn all this kindness to you for nothing, or out of his own small income ?" A gleam of light suddenly irradiated their minds ; and there was a mingled flash of surprise and inquiry indicated by the countenances both of Diganu and Chretien. The Priest instantly perceived the advan- tage which he had so dexterously attained — " C'est assez, it is enough — he next remarked — there is another reason for Louise's separation from you. She is strongly suspected of having imbibed very heretical notions from an old woman whom she was appointed sometimes to visit, that she might understand how to perform the offices of charity for the sick, the poor, and *he afflicted, That old woman was discovered, after 98 her death, to have been an apostate from our holy mother, the Church.' 3 — Here Diganu and Chretien smiled, and involuntarily displayed a look of con temptuous aversion ; which was noticed by the Jesuit "I understand you, — he subjoined — but more of that point hereafter. This is now the reason for her being removed from you ; although after your avowed inti macy, even your mutual conviction that she is your 3ister would render her residence with you improper , and as she was originally designed for the convent, it is determined to restore her to her retirement and duties, that she may be reclaimed from her heresy and disobe- dience to the Church." "It is all unavailing — replied Diganu — I am resolved at all risks to know her fate, and to have the fact, that Louise is the daughter of my Mother demonstra fed to my satisfaction." " I warn you — said the Priest — that your obstinacy in this respect, Diganu, will be not only your own ruin ; but that it will be attended with the greatest danger to all your associates who were recognized in the church at Lorette, when your incestuous marriage was so seasonably interrupted." "Why was not our relationship communicated before? — asked Diganu, with irritated impetuosity — "it Is evident that the place where Louise was concealed was known to some of your ruffian gang." — A strong 'Expression of angry, scornful emotion here perturbed 99 fbr a moment the otherwise serene features of the Pretre — "and she might have been left to me — said Diganu — at least, that I might experimentally under- stand what one of the endeared connections of domestic life includes." *' 1 have told you already — replied the Priest, with his first suavity of manner — that no evidence could have been adduced to convince you, without involving you both in more misery than even your sudden and coerced separation. Your mind will speedily be at rest by an attachment for another female, and Louise will be restored to the bosom of the Church, from which she has so perversely or thoughtlessly strayed." u Jamais ; non jamais ; never, no never ! — said Diganu, with fervid excitement — no force, no tortures will ever induce Louise, while she is in her senses, again to be united with your abominable craft." 11 Tres excellent ; most excellent ! Diganu— an- swered the Pretre — then Louise has improved her time nobly. I perceive that either love or folly has infected you with her own mania. " i( Mania or not — returned Diganu, with unguarded exasperation— I speak as 1 feel ; and will do it in full at the proper time and place. I believe your religion to have been contrived in hell, and that you, Roman Priests, are no better than fiends incarnate." Chretien was terrified at his friend's imprudent an$ 100 latigei ous sincerity. The Jesuit contrived, however, to conceal his exacerbated feelings, while he replied with all the composure which he could possibly assume-—" I thank you for your candor ; your avowal now placer Us upon a different relation to each other. Know then, Diganu, I dread neither your opinions nor your statements ; and of this fact you have full proof by my visiting you alone in your own house. Had I oeen afraid of your menaced legal proceedings, or of Rohoirsic, or the King's Bencl ;, or even of the Gover- nor. I should not have risked my person by appearing unto you ; and had Chretien withdrawn from the room, I should have suspected his intention to procure help to detain me. and should have fled. The wretched consequences, whatever they might have been, would have fallen upon yourself alone." This practical avowal of daring fearlessness perplex ed Diganu. It seemed that his tormentors, by some inscrutable means, had him so completely in their power, that they could make him, just as they pleased, the foot-ball of their amusement. His fortitude was not relaxed, but he began to falter in his pertinacity. The lynx-eyed Jesuit discerned his internal conflict, and adroitly seized the occasion additionally to embar rass him. " Diganu — said he — I come here as your friend"— uring the journey, Rohoirsic much gratified me by the information which he imparted. " You will be entirely unknown, Louise — he assured me — you are represented to the Superieure at Three Rivers, not as an excommunicated incorrigible apostate from their Church, to he scorned and loathed, but as a hereditary heretic to he pitied. Indeed your case is stated to be hopeless ; but it is extenuated on account of very peculiar griefs, which have riveted your wrong opinions, so that although you are very sensible upon all other matters and inoffensive as a child ; yet upon 136 the subject of religion, you are flighty, very stubborn; and consequently must be left alone. TheSuperieure by s been apprized, that you never mention your opinions, unless other persons thoughtlessly introduce any objec- tions to them ; and upon this point she is cautioned upon no pretext, to have any intercourse with you. The lady also who wishes for your company . has been in- structed to believe, that you are naturally very kiud ; and that your acceptance of the proposal would prove, that you would not be insensible to her necessities and sorrows." 1 was received with much cordiality. My protector before he left the convent, thus addressed me — " You will inform the Superieure without hesita- tion of your wants ; in the supply of which you will be anply indulged. Some trifles have been provided for you, which are already in your proposed apartment. I shall see you during the holidays — he kindly pressed my hand — till then, adieu !" Since I was forced away from you, my brother, this was the commencement of the only truly peaceful part of the years which have elapsed. The journey had refreshed my spirits, and the change was other- wise beneficial. 1 encountered no vexatious interrup- tions. 1 was not encircled by discordant inmates. I received no insults. I was exempt from fatiguing duties, which were too laborious for my strength, and oppressive upon my spirits. And for a short season, I was in personal comfort and tolerable health. Often have I endeavored to transcribe my occasional memo- randa ; but the internal conflict produced almost too 137 much agitation for the task, so that you must be con- tented with a very imperfect detail. There are emo- tions, which no genius can describe, and sympathies which no artist can depict. Whether the Superieure was truly acquainted with any part of my history, I could never ascertain. She was ever kind, but ex- tremely guarded ; and always conducted herself as if she was implicitly bound to comply with the directions of the Bishop and his Vicar-General, to whom she professed canonical obedience. Three days elapsed ere I was informed of the actual object of my transfer to Three Rivers. The Superieure requested my com- pany, to walk with her in the garden of the convent to enjoy the serenity of a beautiful afternoon ; and when we were entirely secluded in an alcove from all observa- tion ; she remarked — " I suppose, Louise, that you have been informed for what purpose you have been transfer- ted to my care ?" My reply was — " I understand that 1 have been requested to aid in alleviating the sorrows of a female valetudinarian." She then inquired — " Are you still willing to accept the office which your friend assigned you V To this question, I answered — " I am desirous to know the precise duties which will de= volve upon me. Any thing which I can do I shall willingly undertake, but I cannot assume laborious services for which I am incompetent." The Superieure subjoined — " Your only employ will be to attend upon the lady ; and if you can effect that desirable object, to diminish her mysterious and deep-rooted sadness. In what method that can be most effectually secured, 12 138 is left to your judgment and experience. You will be at liberty to sleep in her apartment or not, at your option. A servant is expressly designated to wait upon you. The only injunction which I am commanded to enforce upon you is this — that you are neither to con- verse with the lady when the servant is present, nor to communicate either to her or even to me what your companion may confide to you." I felt embarrassed with this condition, and replied — " I am inexperienced, and may want advice and assistance, to whom shall I appeal f* The Superieure remarked — " It is not possi- ble that any circumstances can arise, which in this respect will require the interposition of a third person. In all cases which refer to her health, the attending physician will be consulted ; and concerning your per- sonal comforts, you will always recur to me, and I shall take care that not only every want shall be sup- plied, but all your wishes shall be fully indulged." To this arrangement I consented ; upon which she instant- ly arose, placed a letter in my hand, and as she was retiring, she added — " I shall join you in an hour— but remember inviolable secrecy must be maintained f and she returned to the convent. My attention was instantly directed to the seal and superscription, and I fancied that they were the same with which you and I had formerly been so molested. The conviction of their identity, as more accurate scrutiny confirmed my opinion, almost overpowered me with the portentous dread of some new indefinable calamity. Tears partially relieved me, and with as 139 touch composure as I could assume, I commended my- self to God, aad earnestly implored his guidance and support in this novel perplexity. My mind was en- couraged, and the recollection of his past goodness fortified me. 1 realized that worse evils than those which 1 already escaped, could not befal me ; and the additional confidence which I reposed in your lawyer, as the instrument in the hands of Divine Providence to guard and superintend my welfare, strengthened me. You will easily sympathize with me, my brother, when you peruse the accompanying letter. To Louise M. " How t shall I address you, Louise ? On a former occasion when you received a letter from me, L was your tormenting persecutor; and your base ui natural betrayer ; now, I am your penitent, broken-hearted mother !" " Mother !" I involuntarily exclaimed with inex- pressible tremor, for then in a moment, all the horrible past, with its inconceivably aggravated criminality, rushed into my mind — " Mother !" how I felt, w T hat I thought, or even where I was, I could scarcely compre- hend. All were so commingled in a species of tempora- ry hallucination, that I know not what I said in my broken soliloquy of appalling surprise. It is well that no person could have heard me. The first consistent remembrance that I experienced, was the precious application to my soul of the Lord's words recorded by ♦he prophet Isaiah. " Can a woman forget her sucking 140 child, that she should not have compassion on her son ? Yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee." It was a salutary cordial to my agitated heart ; and at once infused the idea, that I was thus remarkably ap- pointed to attend and support the enfeebled and dispirit- ed woman by whom we had been ushered into the world. Dreadful, however, as were all the forn ei scenes, and affecting as our first interview must necessarily be, yet I felt as if divested of a burden, and instantly adopted the resolution to submit to any thing for her sake, with the hope, by Divine grace, of being instrumental to her soul's welfare. Again I besought the Savior's blessing in the discharge of these unexpected duties ; and then with tolerable calmness, pausing as my varied excitements impelled, I studied the remainder of your mother's letter. She thus proceeded — "It is not necessary in this manner to inform you of any particulars with which you will afterwards become acquainted. Since our last separation, my life has been a term of wretchedness and alarm, justly merited but almost too great to be borne. To alleviate agonies which have corroded my constitution, and which all other attempts to diminish have only embittered, I some time since proposed, that as lengthened life for me could not be anticipated, I might have you for my companion. With great diffi- culty the objections to this measure were vanquished, Not that the persons who have us in their bondage feel any concern for our comfort, but they are terrified at all idea of any possible mode existing by which 141 your past history shall be published. Diganu's rising character, and from his ascertained wealth, his superior influence in society, combined with the resolute opposi- tion and unyielding measures of Rohoirsic, have in- timidated our enemies ; for now, they are not less mine than your's ! My wishes werec onveyed to the counsellor, with the reasons by which the plea was sanctioned. The chief argument urged against the design, except the fear of publicity, was this — that your avowed heretical opinions, as they are denominated, precluded all intercourse with you. Upon this point, I fully satisfied the Jesuits, that although I was profoundly ignorant of all that you believed and practised under the name of religion, yet I was not less filled with an unconquerable detesta- tion of themselves and their priestcraft, their doctrines, superstitions, frauds, and pursuits ; that this aversion had not been imbibed, as they well knew, from any person or book ; but that it was the result of my own reflections in the dreariness of my cell, amid the inter- vals of sickness and pain. As I was no longer deemed worthy of flattery and solicitation, all their terrifying artifices were tried in vain. I repelled them with their own weapons. When they attempted to affright me with their excommunication, I ridiculed a menace, all the horror of which they themselves had extracted : as they had often assured me, that it was only an instru- ment to n lanage the weak and silly populace, that they may be cajoled into a perfect acquiescence with their authority and injunctions. Sometimes they de- 12* 142 nounced all the fires and tortures of purgatory and hell as my portion. My sole reply ^was a scornful retort, ilhat they themselves had often said, that a future state was all a fiction, only propagated to fill a Priest's coffers with money and to terrify the ignorant multitude* Then they would declare, that no Masses should be said for my soul. ' My answer was this — " You your- selves admit that the Mass is a contrivance only of the Pretres to procure offerings from your stupid disciples ; because you confess to each other your belief that it is impossible for any reasonable creature to credit the doc- trine of transubstantiation ; and that it was invented only to support the Priest's power over the foolish peo- ple, who are taught that you can make and eat youi God whenever you please ; and then you absolve each other for your shameless hypocrisy." Upon various occasions, they threatened me with everlasting burn- ings both body and soul at the future retribution. This I repelled, by assuring them that they had often laught us, and we all supposed their account to be true, that the doctrine of the soul's immortality, the resur- rection of the dead, and a judgment to come, and in short, that all their pretended religion of Jesus Christ was only a profitable fable for the Pope and the Priests But although I resolutely opposed all their attempts longer to govern me, yet I was actuated only by the spontaneous dictates of my own mind ; for I cannot perceive, that a religion which transforms all society in- to a pleasure-house for the indulgence of a few Pretres, san be of any value ; and my own experience led me to conclude, as they proclaim, that all their pretend ed religion is a fabulous imposture. My natural con* science, however, was still partially in exercise. I was tossed to and fro, as in a tempest. I could not undoubt- ingly admit, that there is no God, no eternity, and no difference between virtue and vice. I cannot now be- lieve, that the wicked are equally good and estimable as the virtuous ; and that when we die, all mankind are extinguished. In proportion as I was forced to deny the delusive doctrines of the Pretres and the Chap- lain, my agony became intense. I reflected upon what I had been and what I had done. My mind was totally empty of all satisfaction, and I rejected all my former deceptions, with no truth to enlighten or direct me. All my ideas were fraught with fearful remorse and withering anguish ; until a ray of light and hope glimmered over me, when the sudden impression first entered my mind to claim your attendance. I insisted, and they refused. I persevered, and they were obsti- nate. The Counsellor arrested their attention more pointedly to the object by co-operating with me. Finally it was arranged, that I should be removed to Three Rivers ; and that you should meet me here. My chief motive, I confess, was selfish. I was anxious for an associate, in whom I could confide ; and from whom, if possible, I might learn the way to true repentance, that I may die in feeble hope, if not in perfect peace. The Superieure knows nothing of our affairs, except that we are mother and daughter, and reputed heretics who must be indulged in our accursed errors, as the Priests name them. We are also characterized as two miserable half crazy idiots, who for a long time have 144 *been separated; but whose friends are so influential, that we must enjoy tender care and affectionate treat- ment. It was necessary that you should thus be ap- prised of our new relationship before you see me; and also of my desires, that you may not recoil with aver- sion, had you recognised your former most unnatural, treacherous and vile tempter. I can make you no atonement for the past, nor promises for the future ; except that you will not find your detestable fellow fcfaVeller to Jacques ('artier, in Your repentaut and sorrowful mother, Therese. The Superieure returned to me before I had fully recovered my equanimity — " Have you any message or communication — she asked — for Therese?" In reply I stated — "Be so good as to inform her, that I shall prepare an answer to her letter, which shall be presented to you in the morning." After much deli- beration, I sealed the sheet which you will peruse, my brother, with melancholy emotions. You will perceive that it is stained with my tears and marked with my blots. My agitated spirits did not permit me to dwell upon the shocking retrospect. Besides, our approach- ing interview and subsequent residence in the same apartments rendered all discussion superfluous, except those declarations which were adapted to prepare the mind of Therese for an amicable reception, and for ftitqre unreservedly candid intercourse, 145 To Therese, " Your unexpected letter fills me with the utmost surprise, and excites the most contradictory emotions. To find a mother after having never known what that endearing word means ! but to discover my mother in you ! Had not so many other painful circumstances authorized your claim, the fact would be incredible. I cannot reproach you. I pity your anguish, and most wil- lingly consent to try my feeble energies to relieve it. But I must insist, that unless you choose to detail your past history, so far, that I may be able to understand in what way most effectually to assuage your sorrows, 1 may not hear any illustrations of former events, ex- cept for the sake of Diganu. A penitent, heart-broken mother ! Ah, what do these epithets convey I Yet I rejoice, if you are sorrowful, that you are repentant; and I bless God, that " the sacrifice of a broken spirit and a contrite heart, he will not despise." The chief point in your letter is the information, that you have rejected the Priest's odious doctrines and criminal temp- tations ; then I may hope, with the Divine blessing, to be of some benefit to you : and gladly shall I consecrate my hours to promote your spiritual instruction ana per- sonal comfort. To be a blessing to you in your decline will be ample compensation for my past trials, afflic- tions, and disappointments. You representy ourseif as a very different person in appearance from what you were when we last parted : and what is your Louise ? I am told by Rohoirsic, that 1 am so altered, Diganu himself would scarcely recognise me. I shall submit myself entirely to your control, so far as is proper, and will 146 endeavor, by unceasing assiduity, to prove my entire willingness to serve you, while I am learning the les- sons which appertain to a devoted, faithful, and affec- tionate daughter. Louise, The reply to my note was a verbal message by the Superieure — " Therese proposes to receive you this afternoon." I knew not how to occupy the anxious and perplex- ing interval. If I attempted to read my otherwise most attractive author, he interested me not. My Bible, " more to be desired than much fine gold," could not fix my vagrant mind. Lven prayer itself did not al- lay my feverish emotions. The hours elapsed in a round of capricious fancit* which were destitute of eve- ry semblance of reality. When I was momentarily se- rious, or when actually offering the fervid petition to " the throne of grace," I was becalmed : but my roving imagination instantly passed again those rational boundaries, and left me bewildered in retrospective com- binations, which you alone, Diganu, can accurately conceive. As the hour of our interview approached, I became more agitated and undeterminate how to speak or act. I could only trust in God for his indispensable aid and direction. At last, in excessive agitation, I was conducted to a door of a room by the Superieure — " this — said she — is Therese's apartment." With a languid palpitation of heart, I advanced ; the door was closed, and for the first time, I was in the presence of my avowed mother. NUNNERY AT THREE RIVERS How blest the Pilgrim who in trouble Can lean upon a bosom friend — Strength, courage, hope, with him redouble^ When foes assail, or griefs impend. The Narrative of Louise next detailed the account of her residence at Three Rivers. " Our ignorance of each other was mutual. So great ^was the dissimilitude between the woman who grasped me at Lorette and Therese in the Convent at Three Rivers, that I dared not speak. I could not admit the identity. We continued to gaze at each other in joint surprise. After a long and agitating pause, a voice scarcely human uttered — " Come near me ; let me see if you are Louise indeed ; let me look at my cross on your forehead." The sound, although sepulchral, was the same. No lapse of years* could obliterate the for- mer words which she addressed to the Cure — [ come here ; look at this cross on her forehead' ! For a mo- ment, I almost fancied myself again in the Church at Lorette, writhing in all the agonies of that tremendous scene. " Fear not — she presently added — if you are my Louise, I shall instantly know you, although we 148 cannot recognise each other's person ; and I will sood prove to you that I was your guilty enemy at Lorette." Trembling, I obeyed the invitation, and knelt before her ? who was seated in an easy chair. She threw back my hair, it was the same mysterious touch, kissed the cross, told me to rise, directed me to a drawer, and before my eyes was the very same dress which I wore at Lorette, and of which she had divested me im- mediately after our arrival at the General Hospitah All incredulity at once was extinguished. For some time, we both maintained a natural reserve, but it gra- dually disappeared. She realized in me a friend whom she had never before known, and I found in Therese. a tenderness which I suppose mothers only can feel and display. The first preliminary to be adjusted was the manner of addressing her. I could not adapt myself to use the term mother; and she insisted, that I should call her Therese, being the only appellative to which she had been accustomed. "Besides — she re- marked, weeping with great perturbation — I am not worthy of the respectful and endeared title of mother. It pre-supposes a relation which 1 never sustained to you, affections I have never yet experienced, and duties that I have not performed." Amid all her dispiritude, Therese retained the Con- Tent's acquired sagacity, although she had been enabled to discard its guile ; and consequently perceiving my genuine character, she exactly adpated her measures according to her views. She speedily ascertained that to unfold her own personal history in continuons dc- 149 tail, would be objectionable to my principles and feel- ings, and therefore she determined to introduce the prominent facts of her life, as incidental illustrations of conversation, as they might successively arise. Our habits of living partook of all the uniform routine of the Nunnery, as our only relaxation was a walk in th$ garden, during which we were invariably attended by our servant. Therese almost constantly developed the same heart- rending uneasiness, an uninterrupted bitter compunc- tion for her past actions, an insatiable avidity to obtain saving knowledge, and increasing attachment to yoUi Louise. Her bodily strength decreased almost imper- ceptibly, and was only manifested in the feebleness of her steps, and the gradual restriction of the length of our promenade. Until we became more unreserved ? to read to her the Scriptures and my other books was my chief employ. Sometimes she would propound a question for information, when she apprehended a lia- bility to mistake ; but generally she was absorbed in her own meditations. The first exhibition of a wish for more familiar intercourse was a request, that 1 would communicat-3 to her the particulars of my escape from the Pretre's house ; and my subsequent history while a resident with you. " 1 have no wish, Louise —she added — to distress you by the recital. My only reasons for desiring you minutely to retrace your suf ferings are these — that thereby I may more accurately understand your mental exercises, and also promote? Diganu's welfare. I can gladden vou by the assu 13 150 ranee of the latter ; and trust, that I shall learn some^ thing of the operations of conscience, from your detail of the manner in which truth irradiated your mind." I also observed, as the Scriptures became more impress- ed upon her thoughts, that her expressions of penitence were more consistent, and that she grew in correct knowledge of the genuine character and design of Christianity. Yet a soul-wringing tone of despair, and anear-tin^lingexpression of anguish were often mingled with all her penitential acknowldgements. While I applied the tender invitations of redeeming mercy to her condition, she repelled them. She thought that there was nothing in the sacred records which resem- bled her case ; and the volume of Divine love seemed, in her apprehension, to be only the authentic declara- tion of her doom to everlasting wo. In its doctrines, consolations, and examples, as revealed by the oracles of God, religion appeared too elevated. It did not in her estimate adapt itself to the peculiar self-abhorence which she realized ; and it propounded no pattern of a person whose trangressions had been clothed with enormity similar to that which characterized her wick- edness. Her sorrow for sin, therefore, produced no correct confidential petition for mercy. She dreaded the indignation of the Judge, and longed that his wrathful sentence should be averted ; but she could not admit the extension even of the God-like Saviour's mercy to such a heinous criminal. Upon considering this state of her mind, I thought that by distinctly un- folding my own spiritual maladies and the methods of cure, with apposite remarks, I might assist her judg 151 ment, and obtain additional influence over her. But it was very difficult to decide upon the most efficient means and the most suitable periods. From internal disquietude and nervous irritability, combined with het varying corporeal alternations of strength and feeble- ness, and also from the remains of that artificial cha- racter which had previously belonged to her, Therese was occasionally captious ; and although her attach- ment for me appeared stable and sincere, yet in the exhibition of it, she was sometimes exceedingly capri- cious. My inexperience was often nonplussed in over- coming her waywardness ; and it was probably almost impracticable for her to subdue all those suspicions of my fidelity, which our extraordinary situation could not fail to excite. To remove these inauspicious feel- ings constituted another argument for my manifesting all possible sympathy with her, by compliance with her desires. She was also very solicitous to ascertain how I began to doubt the infallibility of the Priests and their doctrines. This induced me to narrate my interview with the dying Marguerite. " Ah ! — remarked Therese. wh^n I had finished — her account was true. Frequently did she admonish me against my foolish opinions ; but she did it so cautiously, that I could never find any thing to report to the Priests to her prejudice. She was blessed in her humble station, for as she had no money to bestow for masses, absolutions, and all their other Jesuitical impostures, they cared not for her at- tendance upon them, and thus she was despised as J 62 beneath their scrutiny." I replied — " I did not linden stand from Marguerite, that she ever had cautioned and warned you as she did me." Therese answered — " Not at all. Had she told me thirty years before, the same things which she addressed to you, her life would have been the immediate forfeit." I instantly demanded — " How then, Therese, could she have ad- monished you against your false sentiments ?" Therese rejoined — " She discovered my danger, without doubt, from the prior knowledge which she had acquired, and from the silly declarations that I made. I used to tell her that we must not offend the Holy Pieties. She would look grave, and ask me, 'whether is it better to please God or the Priest V I would try to convince her that this was the same thing. 4 pity you, ma chere, my dear ! — would she say — but suppose God com- mands any thing and the Priest forbids it; or suppose the Priest enjoins you to perform any action which God prohibits, In those cases you cannot please both those conflicting authorities.' But 1 would say, 'your supposition is impossible, because the Pi iest being in- fallible, can only tell us what God orders, and we can know what God directs only by the Priest's explana- tion and instructions.' At these absurd speeches she would be silent, or sometimes speak to herself, and often I thought, maugre all her endeavors to conceal it, that I saw on her countenance a smile of unbelieving contempt. I was then too ignorant and enslaved to comprehend her meaning ; now I should know its pur- port." I answered — " When we correctly examine ourselves and our individual responsibility, it is most mortifying to human pride, and indeed almost incredi- 153 hie, that any persons can risk their eternal salvation upon such gross delusions." Therese inquired — "Did you never believe, Louise, that it is mortal sin to offend the Pretres ?" To this question I replied — "Not exact- ly in all its extent. Before I had been fully trained, Marguerite had given me some gospel eye-salve which enabled me to inspect for myself. Hesitation followed ; and the person who once begins to doubt the Priests? infallible supremacy, speedily rejects all their abomina- tions. But was there no other point on which she spol^ to you ?"' Therese said — " Yes, I remember once IB particular ; after I was hoasting of having been ab- solved by the Chaplain of all my sins, both venial and mortal, that. Marguerite asked me — 'what is the differ- ence between those kinds of sins V — I could not define my own notions, which I had imbued from the Priests ; hut my reply was to this effect — mortal sins are those which are done against the laws, power, and interest of our Holy Church ; and ail other offences are only venial sins winch will be purified by the fire of purga- tory." I inquired — " When you attempted to enforce upon me the belief of this blasphemous and polluting doctrine, did you really give credit to it?" With a groan, and sobbing which bespoke her internal agony, Therese rejoined — "Certainly, Louise. I was then so blinded by they deceitfulness, so infatuated by their ar- tifices, so corrupted by habitual ungodliness, and so hardened by their infidelity, ceremonies, sins, confes- sions and priestly absolu.ions ; that I could have perpe- trated any crime and deemed it a virtue, if the Pre! res had commanded me," I almost involuntarily exclaim- 13* 154 ed — " Blessed be God, who redeemed my life from des- truction for my marvellous deliverance ! — but when you uttered this irrational distinction in your estin ate of wickedness, did Marguerite make no remark V' Therese continued — " She cast upon me a scrutiniz- ing look, doubtless to ascertaiu whether 1 was actually lost to all setose of female decorum, and reading in my features that some remains ol innocence existed, she begged me not to think so lightly of sin before God f as to suppose, that the transgression of his commands could pass unpunished. 1 observed Mu reply — ' the evil is done away by our own penance, the Pope's in- dulgences and the Priest's pardon.' She next demand- ed — 'but what are the sins which can thus be remit- ted V I answered — 4 O ! I know not particularly ; all that matter you know, the Priest explains when I goto confession !' Marguerite then said — ' Very well ; but suppose the Pretre should tell you that it is no sin to blaspheme God, to utter falsehoods, or to live un= chastely, will you believe him V I replied — ' You know that if the Priest orders me to perform any action, then it loses all its sinful qualities.' She realized in- stantly, that I was well fitted for their most unholy designs." I answered — u After all that I have myself felt and heard upon this wretched subject, I can scarcely conceive, Therese, that this rule of action is seriously believed by any persons in their senses. The inclination to vice must have become ungovernable, before an opinion so clearly destructive of all morality can possibly be received by anv rational beings ; and then it must be avowed solely to palliate and justify 155 their sinful course." Therese responded—-" Yet you must have undoubtedly been taught that fundamental doctrine of their Church ; and had not Marguerite pointed out its gross offensiveness by the personal ap° plication to yourself, and had you been earlier exposed to all the contagion of seductive examples in the Con- vent, and to all the insnaring blandishments of the Chaplain and other Priests, without intermission, res- traint, and counteraction ; do you think, Louise, that you would have defied successfully every temptation and vanquished all their terrors ?" My answer was — ■ " I shudder at your disgusting picture, Therese, and adore the Sovereign and merciful Disposer of events, that I escaped the horrible abyss. But did Marguerite's indirect instructions shed no light upon your mind 'F My trembling and weeping associate replied — " No, for I urged upon her, our duty to believe every thing the Priests tell us, and to do all that they say without the least hesitation. This I contended was the only source of our peace and safety." Here I interposed — "If Marguerite at that period believed as she did on her dying bed, I should think that so monstrous a princi- ple. must have been rejected by her." " Listen, Louise—she added, with great agitation- Marguerite appeared to be deeply affected by my folly, I I am a Christian woman — she remarked — and have never had the soundness of my faith disputed ; but I cannot believe everything I have been told When a little child, did you not read the Book of Fables ? But you never supposed, that the Wolf and the Lamb ac- 156 tually argued about the water flowing down the hill — she glanced at me with her well-remembered expressive and piercing eye — although I have often seen human wolves in sheep's clothing devour the innocent lambs.* Ah ! Louise ; now I bitterly know what she intended ; and often since have I been harrowed and astonished that I did not comprehend her exactly appropriate allu- sion. Doubtless perceiving that in this covert manner I was impenetrable, she made another attempt ; and gradually proceeded, until her attacks would have res- cued me, had I not been so irrecoverably duped and blindfolded. " If a Priest should state to you — she in- quired — that being duly commissioned and qualified by the Pope, he can abrogate tbe ten commandments, will you believe him ?" To this startling question I an- swered — 'I should suppose, that if I differ from him in opinion, my sentiments are incorrect !' She instantly remarked — ■ Then you would admit his interpretation of the Divine law to be true ; though he flatly contra- dicted its only meaning and its plain express words V This exposition rather staggered me. so that with some hesitation I replied — ' Undoubtedly, Marguerite ; be- cause you know it is not for us to set up our judgment against our holy mother the Church, of which the Pretres are tbe ordained, infallible speaking tribunal." Once more I interrupted Therese,and said — "That prin- ciple I know to be correct. I even fully assented to it as a general theory, after I had discarded it in its personal application to myself. This fact, therefore^ is most con- vincing proof, not. only of the great fallacy of that wicked claim, but also that the most obligatory rules of 15? moral rectitude are effaced by the Jesuit Priests. Our Lord Jesus gave us for his golden rule, 'all things whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so uuto them' : but 1 could permit the wolves to continue in their merciless ruin of the lambs, pro- vided they did not rend me ; and had not the revolting picture which Marguerite drew aided the undying im- pression, while I should have condemned the crime if pepetrated against myself, in reference to others, I should have justified the criminal." My companion added — '• Had I then possessed the smallest, particle of becoming feminine sensibility or of sound rational in- tellect, I must have glimpsed enough of my own foolishness, at least, to have guarded me against the direct assaults of unveiled iniquity ; hut 1 was so chained in their Jesuitical trammels, that nothing aroused me, until I was immured in seclusion and racked with pain ; Of this truth you will be fully convinced, Louise, when I have communicated to you the remainder of Mar- guerite's circuitous instructions." She paused, and 1 further remarked — "These opinions were not all ad= dressed to you upon one occasion, Therese, I think you said : how then was it possible for you to evade the influence of her counsel, when Marguerite's advice and cautions were presented to you at different times, and at distant intervals P Therese answered — u Well may you ask that question ; — but indeed I scarcely ever thought of Marguerite or of our conversations, except when I was present with her. I was too frivolous and gay ; and was always impressed with the conviction, for so the Jesuits taught us, that all appearances of 158 greater gravity and less attachment for self-indulgence and youthful pleasures in the elder Nuns, were not the result of disinclination, but of satiety, or hypocrisy, or of incapacity from feebleness or age to enjoy their former habitual dissipation." To this acknowledgment I subjoined — " Cela est vrai, that is true. I was often obliged to listen to that soul-destroying tale, until all that I knew of the world appeared as one vast mass of thoughtlessness and vanity. In the circle where the Pretres move, I believe, shocking as is the fact, that your statement is lamentably verified." *'Let me proceed, Louise — desired my companion— during one interview, and when probably from what she either saw or heard, Marguerite suspected, that I was on the verge of being sacrificed, she again intro- duced that important subject. Apparently as a matter only of curiosity, she inquired— 'are you of your former opinion respecting the believing and doing of every thing exactly as the Priests desire or command V I promptly said — ' Yes !' The old woman retorted — 'Eh bien, well ; suppose a heretic should declare to you that the Church is a theatre, and the Priest and his assist- ants are only actors, and that every Sunday you and all the people go there to see a farce performed, will you believe him?' I rejoined — 'Marguerite, how can you ask such a silly question? do you think that 1 could be imposed upon b\ so stupid and contradictory an assertion P she immediately answered — ' Pont du tout, not at all ; but suppose the Pretre should tell you, that the Church is a chestnut, and that all the people 159 who go into it are the kernel ; and that one hundred millions of people had cracked the same nut and eaten the same kernel, mauy times annually during eighteen hundred years past ; that he who built the church was eaten up in the nut before he laid the foundation stone ; and that although, according to the Pretre's ac- count, the kernel of the nut, that is, the church, the build er and the people have been eaten up eighteen hundred thousand millions of times, yet the architect, the church, and the people remain the same, and that every Roman Priest has the power to change the church and people of his parish into a nut and eat them, and yet multiply them every day, so that all the people can swallow themselves and their neighbors at any time in every parish throughout the world, whenever any Priest, pleases ; and thus that every single man or woman, or boy or girl who can crack the nut, can not only devour himself, but also all the Churches and congregations upon the earth, at the same time, and as often as the person chooses to pay the Pretre for producing this wonderful change, and making such a nut, will you believe him, Tiierese V inquired the arch Marguerite., As I had not the smallest idea in what way the parable could be applied, my answer was very brief — 'No Pretre will affirm such nonsense." Little did I then imagine that the corner stone of their priestcraft is unspeakably more false and incredible. However, I am now con- vinced of the truth of Marguerite's deduction, that if we are bound to believe a Jesuit implicitly in one thing, merely on account of his priestly office, then we are obliged to submit and to trust to him in all. Thus 160 it is of no consequence, whether we bow down to the moral obliquities which he teaches and enforces, or to the fraud of purgatory, the blasphemy of transubstantia- tion, and the idolatry of the Mass. In answer to my short sentence, Marguerite said — ' but if you must be- lieve and perform all the Priest's words, where will you stop ? if his control over your faith, and practice, and conscience be unbounded, how can you justly dispute his infallible authority, whether he teaches truth or er- ror, sense or nonsense, virtue or vice, piety or irreligion?" a One might suppose — I remarked — that no person of common rationality would subscribe to these insult ing opinions, did not our own observation, and alas ! our own experience testify, that under the influence of vicious propensities, the heart and mind of man may be induced to receive any doctrine, however base and pre posterous, if it sanctions the desired indulgence of the in ordinate passions." Therese added — " 1 am convinced that this is the only true solution of the difficulty. Igno - ranee of all sublime truth naturally engenders the predo rninanceof the most grovelling errors, which become pal atable by their congeniality with the objects of sense; and when aided by the endless variety of stratagems, with which, as you were reading to me the other day from Christ's words, a Jesuit, if it were possible, would de- ceive the very elect ; these sensual inclinations dispose the mind to remove all the grand moral distinctions, and especially when gilded over by the plausible dis- tinction, which exists, as the Roman Priests pretend, between mortal and venial sins. Thus it was with 161 me. Marguerite perceived that I was dumb, when she asked me — 'how can you dispute the Priest's infallible authority V She thus proposed to awaken my seared conscience by that exciting question. Instead of which effect, it operated upon me as an opiate ; for as I could not instantly say, in what points I would venture to resist the claims of the Jesuit Priests, I concluded that no exception could justly be made. Marguerite observed my unwary mental acquiescence with the principle which she opposed, and resolved to impel the arrow of conviction as far as she dared without risking her own safety. 'Will 3^011 break any one of the com- mandments in the decalogue — she again inquired— because a Priest tells you that your disobedience is & venial sin ? or will you bear false witness, steal other people's property, or commit murder, if you can do itj secretly, because your Pretre entices you to do it and promises you his absolution V Proposed in this form, the opinion which I had avowed did not appear defensible ; and yet I perceived no alternative, mortal sin must be committed, or the Priest must be confided in and obeyed. However I answered her — 'obedience to our confessor is the first law of the Church ; and if I err by obeying the Priest, he will have to bear the punishment !' Marguerite replied— 'Ah ! ma chere, my dear; if one child at school induces another to act wrong, the teacher corrects both ; and although the tempter is generally more corrupt and criminal than the tempted, yet the latter is amenable for his own transgression, and bears his own stripes.' This doc- trine was too evidently true to be evaded by any so* phistry. I could therefore only repel its force by assert 14 162 Ing — 'Your principle does not apply ; for it cannot be supposed that the holy priests will be permitted either themselves to fall into error, or to teach it to others/ The melancholy view which Marguerite took of my approaching degradation emboldened her finally to ask xne — 'should a Priest be inclined to violate his vows and solicit you to indulge him, by persuading you that the trangression of the two commandments re- specting chastity is a venial sin, which he can pardon ; what will you do, Therese : will you consent to his Wicked lawless desires?' I felt embarrassed ; but was Hot convinced and remained silent. 'Do you not know added Marguerite — that these things are continually clone?' — I answered her not a word. From your state- ment she accurately divined the cause of my silence ; ibr although not then actually a guilty participant of their criminal intercourse ; yet I was completely entan gled and bewitched with their licentious revelry. My principles and feelings were thoroughly poisoned : and from all that I had seen or heard or been taught, it ap- peared undeniable, that the natural consequence of a girl's possessing any alluring qualities, and of attaining a certain age, was that she must submit to the Priest's wanton caresses, and become the solace of his unna- tural and ruinous celibacy." " I have additional reasons to adore the Divine ma-» jesty — I remarked — for his abundant goodness in pre serving me from the pit in which so many others have been intrapped." Therese rejoined — " It was always a mystery inexplicable to us, by what means you had 163 become so thoroughly armed against the Pretre's wiles ; for one of the most pernicious evils connected with monastic life is this — that those who already have been insnared, are made the shameless tools to grapple fresh victims. The immediate separation of the mother from her infant, except in very peculiar cases, destroys all tender sensibilities, and the callous effrontery of the Nuns, as you have awfully witnessed — here she beat her bosom and wrung her hands, as if in a mo- mentary frenzy — render them peculiarly qualified in- struments to carry on the crafty designs of the Priests, in the dreadful work of female seduction and ruin." •• These conversations directed me in my efforts to enlighten and impress my companion's conscience. I clearly perceived that she was still very defective in re~ ference to the spirituality of God's law and the malig- nity of sin. These I determined therefore should con- stitute my primary points. But Therese, although a dull, was not an unwilling pupil. All her moral ap- prehensions had so long been confounded and stu pitied, that it was difficult to engage her mind to receive any thing unless through the medium of sense. From her I imbibed a practical knowledge of the vast labor which is requisite to turn an old sinner from the error of her ways. She was not an example of profound ignorance: but her mind had always been habituated to erroneous conceptions of every thing connected with the human character in our relation with God. Her whole life from premature womanhood had been a ceaseless rou- tine of a loathed > because tiresome and unmeaning 164 ceremonial of pretended worship ; flagrant violations oi the divine law, and the use of the most pernicious methods to harden conscience and deaden all moral sen- sibility. My own experience, although not impregnated with so many morbid mixtures, led me to introduce to her attention those parts of the Scriptures, which avowed the authority and sanctity of the divine government, and especially those passages which unfolded in the most pointed and impressive manner, the omniscience and omniprescence of God. I had found the truth of the adage, " the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wis- dom ;" and I had also experienced that the quickeninge pf that fear are peculiarly vivified by the remembrance of him to whom "all things are naked and open." To ihese spiritual subjects, Therese was lamentably insen- sible. She had never known any object of worship, except through the carnal visible images and idols of her mummery ; and although from having long de- rived no satisfaction by worshipping them ; and from the Holy Spirit operating to unfold to her the folly of trusting in nothings, which can neither see, hear, feel nor assist, she had discarded the external objects of her superstitious rites ; yet her mind had not found the Great Supreme, as the sole basis of confidence ; — as the Apostle Paul expressed her state, " she had turned from her idols, but not to serve the true and living God." While residing with you, my brother, I ascertained, that the only effectual method to dissipate the mists of error in which I had been educated, was the endeavor *o obtain the rays of the sun of righteousness, by v. 165 stedfast perusal of the sacred volume. So sudden and bright was the refulgence of the gospel, I could scarcely believe that the book which I had procured was genuine. I had to undergo a similar but more te- dious period of partially doubting amazement with youi mother. Therese could not conceive, if the Bible is true, how the Priests dared to restrain the common people from perusing its holy instructions. This scruple I vanquished by proving to her, that there is not one doctrine peculiar to Popery which can be found, or which is not directly prohibited in the scriptures ; and that it is evident, therefore, the Priests forbid the study of the Old and New Testament, lest their idolatrous and corrupt practices should be exposed, and themselves"! with their priestcraft, be rejected. It was more difficult to convince her, that the Pretres wilfully distorted the sacred oracles, thereby to enforce their treacherous im- positions upon the souls of men. She detested the Jesuits whom she had known ; but it was not so much. for their dreadful frauds and unholiness, as on account of the personal miseries which she endured, either from her past connection with them or through their direct instrumentality. In respect also to her own individual sins, she seemed more disposed to impute them to the instigations of the Roman Priests, than to her own choice, and willing participation. Thus her mind was shielded in a double delusion almost impenetrable ; and she realized not the feeling implied by the Psalmist — lt % acknowledge my transgression, and my sin is ever before me. Against thee only have I sinned, and done *hi? evil in thy sight." 166 Sometimes I became almost impatient, when I dis cerned how edowiy her mind received the plainest die iates of revealed truth. Her objections, however, gradu- ally became weaker. I found the words of Christ very beneficial for my assistance, "search the Scrip- tures ;" and I argued, that the Savior's authority was paramount to that of all inferior teachers ; and that although I had encountered great obstacles to under- stand them, yet by patient assiduity and humble sin- cere prayer, I had found, that " whatever things were written aforetime were written for our learning, that through comfort of the Scriptures we might have hope.' 5 Often did I read to her the penitential Psalms, and the chapters of ancient history which record the lamenting confessions of Patriarchs and Prophets ; especially those which directed our meditations to the degeneracy of human nature, the lost and ruined condition of man by sin, and the corruption of our own hearts whence all sin flows. On these occasions, she would sometimes stop me, and think. Although little conversation then occurred between us ; yet I frequently reminded Therese, that the word of God to be beneficial must be personally applied ; and if its doctrines and examples and commandments are not thus enforced directly upon our own consciences, all its important instructions will be of no permanent advantage. "There was also a wandering inattention in Therese which often disconcerted me ; but I had counted the cost of my services and patience. I beheld a woman emaciated, enfeebled by a lingering malady, wretched. if>7 agonized with most tormenting fear, enshrouded in the deepest mental gloom, and agitated by a tempest of conflicting passions. Although I had received from her many, and the utmost injuries which she possibly could inflict ; and although she had dishonored every femi- nine characteristic, and severed all the endearing bonde of common humanity; yet she was forlorn, despised by the instigators of her crimes, and claimed my compas- sion. She possessed an immortal soul, and it was my duty to use all appointed means, under the Divine blessing, for her salvation : and she was my mother ! and she was your mother, my dear Diganu ; and her wicked ways had not exonerated me from my duty as her daughter, much less as a Christian. These consi- derations animated me to persevere. I could not forget my own past ignorance, my former danger, my mar- vellous rescue, and my present privileges and consola- tions. Therefore I constantly supplicated for wisdom to act aright, and for full success to my feeble exertions. Knowing the danger of bewildering her mind, and aware that until Therese correctly apprehended some thing of the Divine character and attributes, and until she also felt that his " law is holy, and his command ments holy, just, and good," I should be only " as one who beateth the air ;"as much as possible I restricted myself to these two subjects. Occasionally I adverted to Marguerite's evangelical understanding of the genu ine effects of saving knowledge upon the soul. I se lected some examples from the sacred word, and also different corroborating testimonies from the volumes which I possessed to the same effect : and at lengthy tc 168 iny great delight, I discovered that her conscience began to yield to the light and the truth. Sometimes Therese would inquire — "how is it possible that such great coincidences in experience and language can exist among persons of different ages and countries V 9 This fact naturally led me to urge the universal suitability of the Bible to the wants of all mankind ; and to argue that the identical effect of pure Christianity in~all per- sons, however otherwise unknown, was an undeniable proof of its divine origin and bestowment. I also per- ceived that she was often affected with devotional expressions, particularly if they implied intense feeling, and aversion to mental disquietude ; and she wouM frequently use David's figure, that "the bones which thou hast broken may rejoice." Yet I could discover nothing of a direct tendency to that avowal of contri- tion accompanied by the exercise of faith and earnest ness of prayer, which I so anxiously longed to witness. When persons have wandered so far, not only from the pathway of righteousness, but also from all natural decorum, and have violated every powerful and salutary restraint of conscience which the Judge of the quick and the dead has appointed for the order and comfort of man ; if in mercy they are awakened on the verge, of the precipice, whence they might plunge into the abyss of eternal wo, it seems to be the appointment of infinite wisdom and love, that they shall usually feel their steps with caution, as they retrace their course to •Uhe strong hold." One hope often composed my mind ; Without any hesitation, Therese would feelingly con- fess-that she was among the chief of sinners. I .also 109 knew that much of her criminality had flowed from ignorance and unbelief ; and although lest she might be tempted to deceive herself with a fallacious hope, I never adverted to this special point in the Apostle Paul's confession, yet from it I was encouraged to pray, that the faithful saying might be fulfilled in her believing and appropriating acceptation. During many weeks it would be easier to describe her state by negatives, rather than by affirmatives. She had not, as I conceived, evangelically repented ; but her conscience was entendered. She did not be- lieve in the Lord Jesus Christ ; but she totally rejected all other dependence for salvation. She was not a fruitful servant of the Redeemer ; but sSie no longer trampled upon his rightful authority. She could not forget the unsatisfying pleasures which she had so long and ardently pursued ; but she had imbibed an utter repugnance to all her iniquitous practices. She had not received the pure gospel, partly from the uneasi- ness which she felt in submitting to its yoke ; but she utterly disowned the merciless tyranny of the Jesuit Priests. She was exactly like a traveller without a guide in a desert; where to stand still is impossible, but to move is to storm every conceivable danger. Gradually how- ever, her peevishness was less distressing. Her temper was amended, and her remarks upon religious topics became more frequent and more scriptural. Whether this was the result of our seclusion from the world, or our attention to the books which I read to her, or to any 170 effectual application of divine truth to her own pecu liar state, I could not decide. I hoped the latter ; bul I rejoiced with trembling. One thing, however, rather astonished me. She appeared to manifest less anxiety to know my own personal history ; and the subject was scarcely ever adverted to, except to ascertain how I felt at the different periods when she was present with me ; thereby to explore another trait in our varied re- collections, that she might comprehend all the operations of Divine truth upon our minds. Thpse cursory inves- tigations being spontaneous gratified me, becaus thejr indicated an inquiring mind ; and certified, that the hours of silence and of our separation were not totally unprofitable. On the hist day of December, after I had read aloud some of the Psalms, and a passage from one of my authors adapted to the end of the year, Therese ad- dressed me — " I know not, Louise, how exactly to ac- count for the fact, but 1 have never known so agreea- ble a time in my life, as the weeks which have elapsed since you came to Three Rivers." My reply was — " I rejoice if I have been able beneficially to serve you, and to show you what I might have been, if other cir- cumstances had controlled our mutual destinies." Therese answered — " That subject may be discussed upon some other occasion ; my object now is to remind you, that to morrow we may expect to see Rohoirsic, and I shall be pleased to tell him of your great kind- ness to me." I again remarked — " I have not forgot* ten, Therese, that lie has never yet disappointed me :. m and he knows, that no day in the year has been so anxiously desired as the first. It has been always^ since my separation from Diganu, a day of comfort in my own mind, and of gratitude to God ; and although my friend did not absolutely engage to see me on any particular day, but during the holidays, yet I hope that the morrow in a peculiar degree will be a day of peace." Therese rejoined — "Vous avez raison, you are light, I do not, I cannot expect, indeed I have no right to look for a day of comfort, or to be at peace ; but I feel sincerely thankful to God, I trust, for sending you to me ; and if I am not stronger in health, that I am improved in knowledge, and clearer in principles, than at the end of the last year. My expectations, Louise, are very contracted. I cannot even lift up my eyes unto heaven. I can only cry — 'God be merciful to me a sinner' ; and yet twelve months ago, I had no knowledge of myself, nor can I truly say that I even desired thus to be made rightly sensible of my guilt. and danger, and to obtain delivering grace. ? I know not exactly how I felt at these hopeful avow als. I could only silently pray that the Lord would begin the good work, if it was not savingly commenced ; and if the incorruptible seed by the word of God had been implanted, that he would carry it on until the day of Jesus Christ. Therese was watching me. Whether my lips moved, I know not ; but she saw my repress- ed emotions of satisfaction and interest in her humble and artless acknowledgments. " Louise — she said, with great pathos — I am not acquainted with these* 172 very important concerns — you are. Pray for me. a?; you do alone for yourself ; and give thanks to God f that we may end this year, seeking his mercy, and imploring an increase of good for the New Year." She had never before requested me to pray, nor did J. feel qualified to be a devotional leader for another ; but who could resist such an appeal, at that season, and from our humbled, contrite mother? From that period, your Louise ceased not to offer her daily prayers and supplications, making our joint requests with thanks giving known unto God. True to his hour, on the morning of the New Year, Rohoirsic entered, and congratualated us on our ap- parent comfort with each other. Having pleased Thereseand delighted me by assuring us of your pros, perity, he departed, accompanied with our blessing and regard, while we mutually rejoiced, that his inter- vention to settle us in the same habitation had been attended with such propitious effects. One of the consequences of the counsellor's visit was unexpected. Speedily after, Therese requested me to recount the manner of my escape from the Pretre's residence ; and i think, during our whole intercourse, that nothing seemed to gratify her so much respecting our temporal concerns as my narrative. " It was not to that wretched woman, Guise's fears onty, that you owed your safety in part — Therese remarked — but also to the Jesuit's anxieties. He knew that it would be im- possible long to detain you without a public exposure. His visit to Quebec was therefore to arrange a proper place for your reception : but have you no suspi- 173 ciou whe that Priest really is 7" My reply was— "No ; I never could form any idea of the place or his name." I know not which of us developed the strongest shiver- ing, when, with a tremulous voice, scarcely audible, and concealing her face with her shawl, she uttered the short but frightful sentence—" That Priest is the father of IHgqnu." This electric evolution of a laby- rinth of terrific mysteries was indubitably hurtful to my bodily energies. From that shock I never recovered. However, it destroyed at onceall the prior aversion which I had constantly experienced to become acquainted with the history of our mother. Had her strength admitted her to have written her dreadful tale, I should rather bave perused than heard it; but as that labor was not feasible on her part, I resolved if possible to ascertain all that it. -light be proper for me to know of her past life in conversation ; as I judged, however repulsive and awful might be the disclosures which she could make of her sinful course, that all her other sins could not possibly transcend in enormity the single atrocious wickedness which she had thus avowed. Therese saw the effect which her most unexpected communica- tion had produced. With her comparatively blunted sensibilities, she had not nicely comprehended how F should feel ; but as she afterwards stated, the harrowing fact was disclosed to me, expressly that I might be more anxious to know her biography, as well as our own in connection with her's, and as of unspeakably higher im- portance, that I might be able to administer spiritual knowledge to her, exactly adapted to her necessities. Providentially, my brother, you were sent to our assist 15 m ance. I directed Rohoirsic to transmit me some books, the value of which 1 knew not except by reference, But I gave him a carte blanche, with my earnest pray- er that you might be directed b) the Holy Spirit to send me those volumes, which with the Scriptures should make your mother wise unto salvation. 1 carefully studied every book betore 1 read it to Therese, that I might not unintentionally mislead her. W hen you again examine those precious memorials, you will perceive how attentively youi Luther, your Calvin, your Claude, and your Saurin have been scrutinized ; and you will rejoice to be assured, that their illumina- tion irradiated and consoled tho close of our earthly pilgrimage. The hideous information, which had been so concise- ly but impressively conveyed tome, produced no de- rangement of our intercouse upon other subjects ; but for some days, not a syllable of a personal reference was exchanged. We talked of man aud his corrup- tion ; of sin and its deformity ; of the hardness of the human heart ; of 'he infinite compassions and wonder- ful forbearance of God ; of the preciousness of the Saviour ; of the necessity of regeneration ; of the con- trasts between an obdurate sinner and an evangelical Christian ; of the value of the soul ; and of the sub- limely unutterable feelings connected with a just view of the resurrection morn ; — and it is a cause of grati* tude, that we were enabled occasionally to forget our- selves in these soaring etherial contemplations. Al- though solicitous to hear more of Therese'e wayward 175 aess so far as it concerned ourselves, yet I almost shud- dered at the anticipated narrative. She perceived ray sudden excitement, whenever a remark approximated the boundary between the actual past of guilt and the present reality of compunction, and therefore saga- ciously adopted the only mode by which probably the repulsive subject eligibly could have been resumed. Some circumstance originating in our temporary feel- ings had led our conversation to the subject of human mortality, and its momentous consequences. There had been an indistinct allusion to the possibility of a future personal recognition of each other by earthly associates. On this point, Therese had before declared me a visionary ; but she then selected the interesting theme as a key to the elucidation of all the secrets of our earthly existence. "I suppose, then — said Therese — although you may never see your brother Diganu any more upon earth, you expect to meet him again in heaven ?" Well did she appreciate how the recollec- tion and mention of you ever operated as an unfailing cordial to my perturbed spirits. I unhesitatingly replied — "Can I doubt it? Shall we possess less discern- ment, knowledge, and Christian affection in the invisi- ble world of light and perfection, than in this ploomy vale of deficiency and sin ? Is not paradise revealed to us as the general assembly and church of the first born who are written in heaven, the spirits of just men made perfect 1 and 1 confidently believe Diganu will be there ■ and I hope with you, Therese, to enjoy that sanctified undying communion of which on earth we have beer? deprived." 176 " If your interpretation of the Scriptures be true, the anticipation is probable — your mother answered — and you think that you will meet him with no other emotion than inconceivable ecstacy." My reply v as this — " Assuredly, the imperfections and the dross of our sinful nature thence will be excluded ; and in the elevation of celestial sanctity, we shall be conscious of nothing hut the most refined and rapturous blisa " My companion inquired — u You mean, 1 suppose, that congenial per- sons who have always lived and loved in the reciprocal interchange of the purified afleclions and benevolence of Christianity, may thus anticipate a blessed meeting?' 5 I responded — "JNo; 1 ihink tie doctrines of {Scripture make no exception. Lazarus could not personally have known Abrahan, and yet from our Lords infailihie delineation, we must suppose; that the disembodied beggar realized the \ery essence of love, communion and enjoyment with the beatified patriarch." Therese rejoined — "Even admitting this consolatory truth in re- ference to persons who have nexer known each other, but who had walked through life quickened by the same grace and in a congenial spirit, how will it affect those, who, although subsequently penitent and converted have had no opportunity to redress the wrongs which they had done, and to make reparation to those whom they had injured /" — I did not perceive the point to which this conversation was naturally ten- ding. But deeming the question to be only of a ge- neral character, I observed — " The nature of our spirit- ual existence, and even of our relations in the New Jerusalem, is beyond our present apprehensions ; but 177 all who are admitted into that state are absolutely divest- ed of every alloy, and consequently the evils of earth no longer will be sources of pain. I have sometimes fancied that by a mysterious process now incompre- hensible to us, even the recollection of prior evil may be obliterated from the memory of glorified saints. This, however, is not an article of faith ; nevertheless, it may be useful to render more odious that corruption which is the source of all our present anguish, and which, if not removed by efficacious grace, will ex- clude us from never-ending felicity." Therese re- marked — "Eh bien, well ! then I presume, Louise, that you would feel no diminution of the joys of para- dise to meet me there." I answered, with manifestly more tenderness and ardorthan ever your mother had before witnessed in me — "Oh, no ! it is now my daily solace r that I trust I shall be spared to witness your assurance of hope and your peaceful removal to the city of the living God." This effusion of my affection- ate feelings was decisive. Therese was completely overcome. After a long pause she stretched her arms, lifted her eyes to heaven, and with the deepest fervor and pathos cried out — " God of mercy, bless my Louise! how can I atone for the miseries that I have inflicted upon her ? how can I express my gratitude to thee, fqr the comfort of her presence in my solitude and afilic^ lion?" She sunk into aspecies of reverie. "Do you think it possible, Louise— at length she asked— that I shaJJ ever meet you in heaven ; or that you can forget what I have been to you?" There was a resistless melting qf soul in her tone and manner which overpowered me ■ 15* * 178 and it was some time before my feelings permitted me to reply — " I trust that we shall meet in heaven ; and I have no doubt that then 1 shall not remember any of the painful occurrences to which you allude V With the most impatient avidity she inquired — " How can you make that appear ?" I thus answered her question. " Very easily. We have been acquainted, Therese, scarcely six months in this convent, and my present sensations towards you are as different Iroin those which harrowed my bosom, when I read your letter in the garden, as the recoil from a serpent is unlike to the embrace of a friend." Your mother had conducted me to the very point, where our conversation had imperceptibly tended. After a short pause, in which we had been meditating Upon that change in our mutual relations, which our joint unpremeditated avowals had unfolded, she glan- ced me with expressive solicitude and tenderness } and again asked — " Do you sincerely believe that you will meet Diganu in the paradise of the blessed ?" I replied — " All that I once knew of him, and all which Rohoirsic has since so imperfectly stated, convinces me that upon Christian principles, such a confidence may securely be indulged." Therese impatiently inquired ; f{ Then if I should be there as you wish, how will your brother meet me ?" I instantly discerned how adroitly Therese had completed her design ; but. it was too late to retract, and I was obliged to narrate my history from the period of my departure from Lorette -until the day of our wretched separation. The story 179 was beneficial to our mother. From it she derived encouragement. In unfolding my pungent exercises, she saw a reflection of her own agonized feelings ; and by the slow advances which I made in tiie acquisi- tion of saving knowledge, she was supported with the hope that her personal attainments were not fruitless ; while in the confidence, that the incorruptible seed had been formed in your heart, my dear Diganu, she ex- pressed unfeigned gratitude to the Friend of sinners. The varied subjects, which flowed from this review of my life while I resided with you, furnished a plentiful source of thought and investigation. Our subsequent intercourse, however, was very irregular. Frequently our dialogues were little more than question and answer, or a remark en passant, as I read the Scriptures or some author whose remarks interested us. Only when neither of us was depressed by our languor and ner- vous feelings, did we appear temporarily to forget our- selves, our situation and our debility. " Louise — said the sufferer one day, as I was reading to her Massillou's sermon, ' sur les Elus' — ] cannot comprehend how any persons can know that they shall be saved." In reply I observed — "Of all our mental exercises, and of all our religious experience, the in- quiries connected with this anxiety are the most inter- esting and important." Therese remarked — " So I now feel ; and the eloquent discourse which you are reading induces me to interrupt your progress, that I may understand by what means you have been enabled to speak so confidently upon that point." My 180 answer was — " I do not know how to explain this subject, unless I retrace my own convictions and experience." Your mother rejoined — "That is exactly my meaning. I seem to apprehend better the nature of truth when it is embodied in the personal exercises *. and when you say, thus I thought, and felt, and acted, it impresses my mind with double force ; because it gives to the illustration of doctrine all the weight of cre- dible testimony." I subjoined — {: Already I have inti- mated to you. Therese, that eighteen months, or more, elapsed from the time of Marguerite's communications until the beginning of my residence with Diganu. The whole of that period was a time almost of darkness. I teamed to detest the grosser iniquity which passed be- fore me ; but I had no opportunity or means to acquire the evangelical substitute. I abhorred the hypocrisy and the licentiousness of the Jesuits, and their abandon- ed associates in crime, but I knew nothing of Chris- tian sincerity and the holiness of the gospel. All the attempts to convince me, that after death man is n© more, were unavailing. My soul revolted from the idea of living in sensuality, and then to be annihilated, A dawning of light came upon my mind respecting the reality of Purgatory, and the worship of saints and images ; but I do not remember that my doubts led Co any essential result. My disbelief of the Mass was more influential; for Marguerite, in the form of two questions, had given me a theme for constant examina- tion. Incidentally she had mentioned something about confession an" Therese nodded her assent, n But how did she become assured of it?" I asked. "Because the Saviour affirmed it" — answered Therese T next inquired — " But was it for her virtues, her 189 merits, her excuses, or her knowledge, that she wa3 re ceived and absolved ?" Therese said— " No, it was of God's mercy, I suppose, for she could not pay the debt. She cast herself in humble reliance upon his goodness ; believed in his power ; and loved him for his favor be stowed upon her. But how does thi3 affect the question of our knowledge, when Jesus Christ is not here per- sonally to speak to us ? M I replied— ; ' The Scriptures are given us as a rule by which to try our spiritual condition. Ail the doctrines which we read must be received as if God himself proclaimed them, as he did the law from Mount Sinai. All his commandments must be acknowledged, as if they were enforced upon us by miracles. All his threatenings must be credited as much as if we were witnessing their actual fulfilment. in the case of Pharaoh. And all his promises should be accepted and applied by faith equally as though they were directly addressed to us; provided only, that we can humbly hope the characteristics of his disciples are descriptive of ourselves." Therese again asked — <: But may we not be deceived in our estimate of our own state before God V I answered — "Certainly : but God hath promised to guide those into all truth, who patiently wait for his instructions and confide in his word ; and as his blessed revelation is given expressly tc enlighten our darkness, we may confidently hope, that he will not withdraw its shinings." Therese rejoined — " I do not perceive how this excludes the difficulty, ilany cannot read the word, and consequently Will have to lose its benefits in illustrating their true situa- : ; : i before Got!." In reply I remarked — "Foi 190 purpose, the ministers of the Gospel were appointed to teach the people the way of righteousness both in word and doctrine, that they may be able to grow in grace." Your mother answered — "So then it seems after all that we must have recourse to the Priest, and believe all that he utters." My rejoind- er was this — " Exactly the contrary. The Priest's lips should keep knowledge, and the people should search the Scriptures. If the Bible were open to every man's inspection, then it is plain that the Priests could not propagate their wonderful and soul-destroying delu- sions ; and every person would learn to peruse the contents of the Gospel for himself But now the Priests prohibit the people from all knowledge both in the means and end ; and thus in cunning craftiness, lie in wait to deceive. Besides I would ask you, The- rese, whether it is not much more probable, that ano- ther person who can only judge by the outward appear- ance will be deceived in deciding our true characters, rather than a sincere believer who knows the plague of his own heart, and who closely examines himself by the word of God? And also is it not much more likely, that he will be deluded in estimating his own character who trusts to the opinion of a Jesuit, whose declaration will be given according to the money which he expects to receive ; rather than he who ap- proaches unto God with all sincerity, uttering David's impressive prayer, 'search me, O God, and know my heart ; try me and know my thoughts ; and see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting?" Therese answered — " I sup- pose therefore, from what you have said ; that the as- 191 suraii ce of which you speak is obtained only from a comparison of our hearts and characters with the word of God ; and according as that determines we are to believe." Upon this remark I observed — " Undoubt- edly ; because the Gospel assures us, that by it we at last shall be judged. If the Scripture had said, that God would pronounce our final sentence according to the will of a Jesuit Priest, there would be a clear rule of duty implied, to secure his favor at any sacrifice ; but so far fro n it, the Judge of all authoritatively pro mounces, that every person shall give an account of himself unto God ; and be judged according to that he hath done in tbe body, whether it be good or bad, with- out any reference to the reproach or approbation of mankind." "But if we are sinners, and of that I am certain — Therese objected — and we shall be judged according to our doings, I do not yet comprehend how we shall escape condign punishment ; and therefore I cannot admit that there is any sure foundation for that strong confidence of which you speak. Indeed, it appears to me to partake very much of the same presumption that in the Pieties we condemn." I thus replied — " The cases are totally different. In trusting for ever- lasting life upon the plain direct testimony of the word of God, we only receive the consolation which the Scriptures were intended to bestow upon the humble, broken hearted penitent : but in listening to a Priest's absolution, we rob God of his divine prerogative to par- don sins: and though the Scriptures plainly declare the will of the heavenly Majesty, yet we believe a sin - 192 ful Pretre when he asserts a direct contradiction to the truth of Jehovah." Therese im patiently said — "Now I begin to discern ; it never struck me so clearly before, that a Priest's pretended claim to absolve from sin is an insult to the Divine Being, and a power which in its very nature can only belong to the Searcher of Hearts ; but this has not yet relieved my mind in reference to the bad doings of mankind. Knowing himself to be guilty before God of innumerable sins, how can be say, yet I am saved?" I rejoined — " You already have admitted the fact in reference to the woman in Simon's house, when the Lord audibly spoke to her. The principle and the result are the same, although the medium dif- fers." Therese earnestly interposed — "Explain your self." I continued — " The Gospel proclaims to every laboring, heavy laden sinner, that if he will approach unto Christ, the Saviour will receive him and give him vest. Now this presupposes a consciousness of the bur- den of guilt ; an earnest desire of deliverance from it ; unfeigned sorrow for the cause of the weighty load ; and hope with confidence in the willingness and ability of the Saviour to give peace to our souls." Therese remarked — " Still I do not comprehend the application of this certainty to the understanding and the con- science." To this observation, I replied thus — " The work of Divine mercy in the heart of man is through faith as the instrument. Every thing made known in the Scripture is a subject of pure belief. Its former his • tories, its prophecies yet to be fulfilled, its sublime and unearthly doctrines, its purely spiritual requisitions, its awful denunciations in reference to eternity ; and itr 193 consolatory promises of glory everlasting are none of them objects of sense ; so that without faith, the Bible and its treasures are to us a non-entity/' The- rese hastily interrupted me — "Now I see. You have opened the way for me to escape from all my anxie- ties upon this topic, but go on !" I continued — "It is plain therefore ; that all the portions of Divine truth rest upon similar authority, and that the basis of our trust is the same. The Christian assuredly believes, that the Saviour died and rose again, upon the general truth of Divine revelation as affirmed by the most pow- erful testimony : but does not the sacred book bv the same apostolic writer also declare in the connected sentence, ' Jesus our Lord was delivered for our offen- ces, and was raised again for our justification.' Now if we deny the latter, how can we believe the other ? For Paul joins them together, thereby to declare both the cause and the effect of the Lord's death and resurrec- tion." Therese asked — " Are not these expressions general and only intended to convey the meaning, that the Saviourdied to expiate sin, and to bestow righteous- ness, without any particular design." My answer was prompt — " Certainly not, for the benefits of the gospel are all purely personal This you will perceive, if you remember that the figurative expressions which are used concerning religion imply our own wants and the supply of them. The consolations of redeeming mercy are called the bread of life, the water of life, the pearl of great price, medicine, raiment, healing, pardon, communion and friendship. These are all personal acquisitions, and pre-suppose a direct participation, or 194 these blessings would be useless. When, therefore, pure religion and undefiled is revealed as justification, adoption, wisdom, and an inheritance, all these terms necessarily purport that they are individual attainments and possessions. The greatest privilege and attraction of Christianity are, that it is a matter of personal concern to all its disciples." Therese rejoined — " I suppose then, you mean that we are not only to believe that all the advantages of the gospel are designed by God to be generally dis- tributed ; but that every person may clrim and obtain the supply of mercy according to his own necessities ?" I answered — " Exactly, and it is upon this very principle of appropriation, that the humble and sincere believer assuredly confides.'" Your mother then inquired — "Do you think, Louise, that this confidence may not be fal- lacious ?" My reply was this — " We may be deceived, Therese ; but the cause of the delusion will be in our- selves. We cannot have complied with the rules in that case to ascertain a correct decision." Therese said — " That is the very idea which I wish you to illus- trate ; because I think I bhall have more satisfaction, if I can correctly understand this important matter." I subjoined to my former remarks — " I have already stated that the whole word of God is to be equally credited as of one authority. Hence, the duties must be performed, as well as the doctrines and promises be- lieved." I paused, and Therese signified her approba tion of the sentiment. I then proceeded — " Conse- quently, the inquiry must be entered upon according 195 to the prescriptions of the sacred volume. The Biblt proclaims pardon to the guilty penitent sinnner as an infallible truth, therefore the sole questions are ; have I experienced that godly sorrow which needs not to be repented of? Do I unfeignedly credit what the Almigh- ty saith ? Have I received the heavenly message of his Son, Jesus Christ ? And the true answer is to be known only by the fruits : hatred of sin, a hearty sur- render to the Lord's service, and a steadfast determina- tion to believe and to do what God shall require of us ; to abstain from all evil, and to follow on to know the Lord, that I may live to his glory here, and dwell in his presence for ever. Now, do you not think, The- rese, that a person with an honest anxiety not to be mistaken, might attain to a conviction that these were his governing dispositions?" Therese answered— " I should believe so were it not for the corruption and de- ceitfulness of the human heart. I therefore asked her — " But do you not recollect, that God has promised, 'my grace is sufficient for thee," ihat he will shine into the hearts of his people by his grace : that light is sown for the righteous ; and that they shall not effec- tually, be led astray. The language of the New Tes- tament often expresses the utmost certainty — " I know in whom I have believed ; we know- that we have passed from death unto life; and we know (hat his testimony is true, that believing we might have life through his name ;" with a rich variety of similar pas- sages, all encouraging the humble disciple of the Re^ deemer, to cultivate and enjoy the full assurance of jfrith and hope." Therese replied — <; I now very plainly 196 perceive, that religion is more a personal thing of the heart, than I had ever yet understood it. I have only therefore to request, Louise, that you will pray for me ? that I may receive this promised light and comfort." Our intercourse was partially suspended for some days, and it was manifest that Therese's attention was engrossed by the searching application of Divine truth to her conscience. I rejoiced to understand, that she was deeply solicitous not t© decide incorrectly respecting her eternal welfare. There was such a vast abyss of degeneracy both in theory and practice to be extermi- nated, that she often expressed a doubt concerning the willingness of the Saviour to ransom her; and I was pleased to hear her remark — " I have one fearful sub- ject to embarrass me, Louise ; whether all my compunc- tion and hatred of sin may not be the consequence only of my bodily sufferings, and the dread of judg- ment and future punishment." I replied — "Are you sincere in your present exercises and desires?" After a pause, she answered — " 1 think I am : I have endea- voured to bring my conscience, with all its truth and energy, to bear upon my former hateful principles and conduct ; and I humbly hope, that I can truly say, I long to be filled with Christian simplicity and godly sin- cerity." To this declaration, I replied — " If the Lord should restore you to health, could you, would you enter again upon the same course of life, supposing that you should be without restriction?' Therese shuddered ; and with all the strength which she could assume, she said— " Never, no never; I prefer death even now, 197 with all its perplexing uncertainties." I subjoined—* 11 Then your character must be changed." She in- stantly added— "That is certain; but the important query follows ; is it the new creature in Christ Jesus ? I shall never be pacified, until I can ascertain satis- factorily, that the old things are passed away." On a subsequent occasion, I communicated to Therese, some of the more memorable points of my experience during my stay in the convents, part of which she knew : for although I was unconscious of £he fact, she long continued to reside in the same Nunnery. The narrative was beneficial to her ; a? it illustrated the operation of Divine truth upon my mind, and proved that neither the solitude, privations, hardships, nor burdens of my almost defenceless bon* dage could destroy the effects of that peace-speaking voice, which sustained me with its consolation, as it reit- erated — 'Fear thou not, I am with thee, be not dis- mayed, I am thy God, I will strengthen thee, I will' help thee ; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness. In one of my most dis- tressing and dangerous and frightful dilemmas, wh© can describe the effect produced upon my feelings by the Holy Ghost's kind application of those words to my heart — ' I, even I am he, that comforteth you, Who art thou, that thou shouldest be afraid of a man that shall die, and of the son of man who shall be made as grass ; and forgettest the Lord thy Maker ; and hast feared continually every day because of the fury 17 198 ' of the oppressor, as if he were ready to destroy, and where is the fury of the oppressor ?" The protracted seclusion in our apartments during the long winter was unfavorable to us, and our conse- quent debility was too evident even to ourselves. It was the natural result of the inactivity and tedium in- separable from the convent. The most pernicious effect was the additional nervous derangement which we both felt, and which nothing but air and exercise iu the garden had truly mitigated. On one occasion, when our minds were more than ordinarily affected by our peculiar situation, I read to Therese a number of the most expository scriptures respecting the world to come T bad announced the exhileraiing truth — "Our light affliction which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glor}^ while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen ; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things -which are not ^een arc eternal ; for we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens, ' She interrupted my progress. " These subjects have strangely affected my mind lately — re= marked Therese — I feel very different from what 1 used to do when thinkmgofdeathand futurity." 1 anxiously inquired — u How is the alteration perceptible V — The- rese replied — " I cannot accurately describe it ; but I do not experience the same terror at the contemplation of leaving the world as formerly." I earnestly request 199 sd — "Describe this change to me." Therese answer- ad — " My feelings assure me that 1 am rapidly declin- ing ; cannot you perceive it V My own convictions of increasing weakness only enabled me to reply — " Not much ; and I suppose the reasons are, that I am always with you, and myself gradually becoming more feeble.'' Therese continued — " My apprehensions have induced me to examine myself by the Scriptures ; and like Manasseh, 1 have often prayed, that I might c know that the Lord he is God;' and like the dying thief, 1 have cried, 'Lord, remember me !" She paused. " You fill me with comfort — 1 said — at this blessed experience of Divine mercy; and have you then tasted that the Lord is gracious' V Our mother replied — "I cannot say ex- actly how I feel, but my spirits are lightened and my dreadfully distressing fears are removed. I see in the Divine dealings towards me, abounding mercy. Ire- trace my evil thoughts, words and actions, and I abom- inate them : but. I am not troubled as formerly with the sting of them ; and I trust that the Lord has for- given the iniquity of my sin." I was too affected to speak. Therese saw my emotion — " What do I not owe to you. Louise — she subjoined — as the instrument in God's hands to convert a sinner from the error of her way ; and I hope you have saved a soul from death ? I cannot speak with your composure and cer- tainty ; but I can say with sincerity — 'Lord, what wait I for, my hope is in thee V' She paused as if wait- ing to hear me. I could not command energ}- to utter a word. At length, she added — " I think I can tell something of your gladness, when you can fee! 200 ahat you are so repaid by God for your mother's unna- tural barbarity." This reference changed my feelings; and in broken sentences, I replied — " Say nothing upon that subject. So far as I am concerned, I forgave Jt from our first interview here. Diganu will forget it, when he hears my (ale. God, I trust, has compassion- ated you, and subdued your iniquities, and cast all your sins into the depths of the sea. Let us not there- fore raise up what God has buried. If I have been of any service to you, bless God for his wonderful loving kindness, who makes all things work together for good to them that love him." That evening for the first time, Therese prayed aloud ; and until she was finally disabled, our joint devotions were alternately assumed by us. It was an encouraging thought that a woman so degenerate should be elevated by the Gospel ; that a dreaded per- secutor should be transformed into a Christian disciple; that a loathsome tempter should be changed into an en- deared friend : and that the relation of mother and daughter should be recognized by us. It was the tri- umph of good over evil, of light over darkness, and of love over aversion, which Christianity alone can achieve. From that period she evidently grew in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ. But she had no lofty soarings ; her mind was fastened to the anchor of hope, but she made no higher attainment. She never spake of herself but with profound humility. Of her past life she avowed her disgust ; of her actual experience, her apprehension? 201 were only without alarm and terrifying disquietude ; but of the future, it was merely the resolution of Job ; * though he slay me, yet will I trust in him ;' and of Esther — ' I will go in unto the king, and if I perish i I perish." The day, my dear, Diganu, on which we had finally been separated at Lorette, was always to me a period of peculiar solemnity, meditation and prayer. As I be- came more familiar with Therese, I resolved to remind her of the tenth return of the season, and if possible, mutually to be edified by the remembrance. Her an- ticipation was not less acute than my own, and she re- solved to surprise me. It was a lovely morning, and our spirits were in unison with the cheerfulness of Spring. In her prayer, she impressively noticed it. With all solicitude she invoked pardon for the evil doings of that day and for the Jesuit criminal instigator ; and for you and your Louise her supplications were large and fervent. These were mingled with thanksgivings for Divine mercy in her latter experience ; and an unre- served surrender of herself to the Lord's will ; also imploring that she might be able to read her name in the book of life, and be prepared to meet her God. As she had thus adverted to the subject, I made no re- mark. In the afternoon, Therese proposed a walk in the garden. It was the first time that she had been out of the house during nearly five months. Every thing on that occasion seemed changed. Therese's kindness ; the conviction of her maternal relationship, send of her Christian character ; and the consolation? 202 of redeeming mercy, of which we both hoped that we participated, cheered our minds; and we were invigora- ted by our little exercise. On our return into her room our Mother remarked — " I have one duty yet to perform to you, Louise, for the sake of Diganu ; and as f feel benefited by our little walk, as the time is con- genial, and as the future isso very mutable and uncer- tain, I have been revolving the propriety of communi- cating to you some of the history of my life this eve- ning. I think I am more capable of doing it now, than at any previous time, since we have resided to- gether. My daughter, my child — it was the first time she had ever used the words, and as she kissed me, she added — are you willing to hear it 'V I could only return her salutation and reply ; the endearing epithet had never before escaped me — " 1 hnd thought, moth- er !—0 Diganu, that you had been with us! — to have surprised you by a reference to this day ; but from your morning's prayer I discovered that you also recollect the eventful season." — Therese answered — " Ah ! it is impossible, Louise, to conceive what pungency of an= guish I have suffered for the guilt of this never to be forgotten day ; and it is the remarkable change that I now feel, which induced me to make the proposition." Upon that remark I observed — "1 have longed for your recital and dreaded it, with very conflicting emo- tions ; now, I am very anxious to know the events of Your earthly pilgrimage." HISTORY OF THERESE Night is the time of death ; When all around is p* ace, Calmly to yield the weary breath, From sin and suffering cease — Think of heaven's bliss, and give the sign To parting friends ; — such death be mine !— Therese thus narrated her biography. — Father or mother I never knew ; nor am I aware of any indivi^ dual's peculiar kindness towards me. My earliest re- collections are concerning an elderly woman who stated to me this circumstance. ' I was frequently employ- ed about the Ursuline Nunnery of Quebec, in menial offices — said Josephine — and on one occasion a child f which appeared to be about four days old was deposit- ed in the usual box at the entrance. I desired to adopt it, to which the Nuns consented ; and you, Therese, are my nurseling. That name was pinned to your bosom. This is all that I know of your origin.' That woman I always addressed by the title of mother. Her appearance was repulsive. She was short and meagre, with a peculiarly disagreeable countenance ; but she was always very affectionate and kind to me, and I have often regretted that I was taken from her. I went to the school and made some progress in learningc The Nuns would have me to reside with them ; and 204 Josephine was obliged to consent. I well remember her charging me never to become a Nun. At the con- 7ent I often saw her, and was permitted to visit hex at her own room. She always repeated her injunctionj that when I became my own mistress, I ought not to live in a Nunnery. I still have a very distinct impres sion of attending her when sick. Not long before her death, she communicated the manner in which I had come under her care ; informed me that I was fourteen years of age ; that i had no earthly relative whom she could ascertain ; and repeated her strict command, that I should leave the Convent as soon as I could. I was present at the funeral of my only benefactress. A strict guard was kept over me, no doubt by the contrivance of the Nun who was my mother, and who resided in the Convent ; btit which of them had borne me I never could suspect ; because that fact I only ascertained, in consequence of Diganu's threatened judicial investigation. However, I soon perceived, that they designed to entangle me to take the vow. My mind was resolutely opposed to the measure ; for my dispositions were totally uncongenial with the manners of the Convent; and I secretly del ermined to resist every scheme to force my assent. My aversion doubtless was discovered ; either by their unacountable craftiness, or more probably by some of my acknowledgments at confession. I was therefore placed in Montreal about a year after the death of Josephine. There I first at- fracted the notice of Diganu's father. Between the fcesbytere and the Nunneries, was an underground 205 and thus the selected girls were made eye witnesses of the familiarities between the Jesuit Priests and the Nun&; until they were duly trained to join the vile association. Having been initiated into their customs at Montreal, I was transferred 'to Three Rivers, by the direction of the Priest who had chosen me for his prey. There a similar passage existed between the Jesuit Monas- tery and the Convent ; and every artifice was en* acted to corrupt my principles. The object was not at- tained ; but it was doubtless perceived thai I had been infected by the contagion ; and 1 was then removed to ihe General Hospital of Quebec. That Institution had obtained a highly dishonorable character, even from those who knew nothing of Christian morals. The Re- ligieuses mixed with promiscuous society and openly formed tender attachments. The Jesuits consequently, were in a fury. The Priests disliked that the military officers and others should intrude into their domain ; and they dreaded that the Nuns should divulge to their paramours the secret proceedings of the Jesuits in the Convents. It is most probable, from notori- ous facts, that some of the Nuns did publish those circumstances hich afterwards disgraced that pesti* lential order. Exterior decorum among the Nuns was eventually coerced by the government ; but the interior continued to be a scene of flagrant depravity. There I drank of the intoxicating cup ; and the familiarities of the Priest who often visited me, although gilded over by the name of fatherly tenderness to a spiritual child 206 whom he hud long watched, aided his design ; and wheil he deemed proper, I was appointed to reside at Point aux Trembles. That was the period of my intercourse with Marguerite. The Jesuit often talked with me re specting my future views, pretended to illustiate my childish opinions, discovered all my contemptible su perstitious folly ; encouraged all the notions which I had imbibed of priestly infallibility, shewed the importance of an unreserved exposure of all my thoughts, feelings, and desires to him, with pretended modest gravity propounded the most obscene and revolting questions; and under the pretence of cautioning me against sin, taught me the most loathsome sensuality, and unfolded the very inmost recesses of all ungodliness, until hav ing moulded me in unprincipled views and feelings to >**. h \ his design, he completed it in the confession a 1. I was then totally in his power, and was removed to his parish, where Diganti was born. He was taken from me almost immediately, and 1 saw him no more until he was sent to be instructed with Chretien at Quebec. For some cause unknown to me, the Priest left his parish for several weeks, and during his absence, anoth- er Jesuit said Mass for him. He visited me, and you, Louise, are his daughter. Thus debased, and by the instructions of those two Priests, lost to all correct fe= male sensibility and moral decorum, I became exactlj' what they wished. Afterwards they forced me, under the pretext of secrecy, to take the veil ; and the years re- volved amid my increasing love and practice of iniquity, 3 possessed not the smallest particle of affection for you ; 207 "jX rather yoa were my aversion ; for it was in conse- quence of your birth, that I had been coerced to adopt the monastic lite. Diganu I cared tor, because he was a child in some degree of affection, for his father had attracted my fondness ; but for your father, I never felt the least attachment, or respect; and my comfort^ equally with his safety, was in danger from the two Jesuits. I thought that they never would be pacified, until they had murdered both of you. It was finally agreed, that. Diganu should be under your father's in- spection. and that you should be controled, by the other Priest. All your sufferings have been the result of this mischievous compact. I always wished to befriend your brother ; and his father consented, provided that he might have the sway over you. Had I known the feelings of a woman, much more the tenderness of a mother, I should have opposed that monster of iniquity ; but all within me was blunted or perverted, and 1 rea= lized no more concern at sacrificing my child than any other girl ; or rather, I was taught that Diganu's pros- perity-depended upon it, and the base agreement was made." " I here interposed — remarked Louise, and asked — was my father privy to this extraordinary de- sign?" Therese answered — " No, he never saw you, after you were removed from me, when a few days old, until he recognized the cross in the Church at Lorette, Indeed, he never displayed the smallest concern about you. He complied with his engagement respecting Diganu t merely as a matter of honor between Priests ; but he wc\s not in the least interested in your or my welfare. 208 After you approached to maturity, the plan was laid for your entanglement. I was early apprised that you manifested a rather intractable and modest temper, and that you would not easily be enticed by any artifices to submit to the course delineated for you. The plot therefore was contrived gradually to entrap you into his snare. I was also told, that it was impossible to attract your notice to the usual occurrences of the Con= vent. By my base advice, you were sent to Point aux Trembles ; but it was a providential journey, because there you saw Marguerite, and God in mercy permitted you, through her instrumentality, to acquire that know- ledge and inflexibility which enabled you to overcome all the Priest's machinations." Here I interrupted The- rese by remaking — "I cannot conceive, Therese, how you could possibly have engaged in that most iniqui- tous project. There is something so unnatural and so attrocious.that I am amazed when the Jesuit propound, sd that wickedness to you, your feelings as a woman did not revolt from the proposal to prostitute your vir- gin daughter to the father of your son ?" She displayed unutterable emotion as she replied — " Ah ! Louise, you understand not the wickedness of Jesuit seminaries and Convents. By their regulations, all earthly relation- ships terminate when the boy receives the tonsure, or the girl takes the veil. Father and mother, brother and sister, even son and daughter to them are un- meaning appellatives, and all mankind are equally alienated. Hence, parricide and incest, in their judg- ment, are crimes which they cannot commit. A Pre- *xe and a Religieuse are equally destitute of all natural 209 sensibility. Most of them like myself have never felt the ordinary experience of domestic affection. They are the offspring of profligacy ; and by their unknown licentious parents, abandoned in infancy to the care of others, and only watched that they may be nurtur- ed to think and feel and act like the Priests and Nuns from whom they derived their existence. What love can a woman have for a child who is taken from her probably without her handling, or even beholding it; whom she never nursed, and whose sex she is not per- mitted to know; and in multitudes of instances whether allowed to live or suffocated at its birth, she can never ascertain? What affection can a Priest have for a child, if the relationship were ascertained, who must be his disgrace and ruin ? It is certain that the Jesuits not only kill their children to hide their corruption, but also the mothers of their offspring, rather than their pre- tended celibacy shall be discredited. What civil law can punish a Priest and Nun thus guilty? They purloin and destroy every Bible with impunity. They rob their poor disciples under every possible pretext. They teach, disseminate and practice all kinds of the vilest. immorality, and who dare to resist them ?" <; 1 1 ,e often thought to ask you, Therese — I re marked — what account can be given of all the infants who are left in the cradles at the Nunneries? I have frequently regretted, that Marguerite did not assist me with her knowledge on this subject.*' Therese replied — " That is a very mysterious concern. How that busi ness is managed 3 I never could exactly discover. The 18 210 aumber of children thus cast off by their unnatural pa^ rents is astonishing ; yet no inquiry is ever made for them, after they have been placed in a convent. That affair can only be understood by the Nun in atten- dance, and the Superieure and the Chaplain. I was never intrusted with the office of door-keeper. All I know is, that many more are deposited than ever go out ; but how the account is balanced, it is beyond xny n ingenuity to unravel." I replied — " During my abode in one of the Convents, I am convinced, that one hundred children were stated to have been left within the year to the care of the Religieuses ; although I never saw one of them." Therese answered — " It is now a wonder to me; but then I thought nothing of it. The shocking subject only constituted matter for a joke among the Nuns; yet with all their impudence, the Pretres would never intrust us with the knowledge of dur children's fate ; had it not been divulged in con- sequence of your birth, I should have remained totally ignorant of Diganu." I inquired — " Do describe to me the character of those two Priests as 3^011 now judge them ? Are they living ?" Our mother answered — -' Your Father, Louise — her countenance, of which she was probably not conscious, bespoke strong aver^ sion — was a cold-hearted, selfish villain, and an adept in all wickedness. He regularly mumbled over his masses, exacted his various fees and claims, indulged his unholy appetites as he pleased, and possessed not the smallest attachment to any thing in creation, ex- cept the eraft by which he had his gain. As he lived xmbeloved, so he died near two years ago unlamented.' 5 211 I hastily observed — " Dead ! do you say ? dead in his sins ?" Therese continued — " He passed through ail the forms and ceremonies, was absolved, anointed, chanted over, eulogized in the funeral oration, prais- ed in the newspaper, has a fine epitaph inscribed on his tombstone, and a monument in the church ; and is gone to his fathers, just as they preceded him, and as the surviving ungodly Priests are successively follow- ing him." I briefly inquired — " And Diganu's father ?" " He is alive — said your Mother— a shrewd artful and complete Jesuit; with all the principles of a re- morseless, impenitent sinner, and with a deceitfuiness which no ingenuity can explore or circumvent. His progress has constantly been onward to condemnation. The only thing which has any appearance of good that he ever performed has been his support of Diganu ; but that was merely to gratify bis stronger passion. His private history would unfold a wondrous tale. I have not seen him during the last three years. When I began to realize debility, I was deserted ; and as my eyes were opened to perceive the evil of their doings, I loathed the very sight of all the Pretres. This tem- per produced disputation. They denounced me as a heretic, and discarded me ; but as the Jesuit then divulged his opinions and doings, he appeared to me a most irreligious and hardened transgressor. The misery which he has entailed upon his female victims to him was an object of ridicule, and as to his child- ren, with the exception of Diganu, no person can give any account of them. In his first rage, after the law- 212 suits were directed to be commenced, I dreaded from bis menaces, that Diganu and Chretien would both have been sacrificed !" I remarked — " It was always a subject of interest to us which we could nevei unfold, how the discovery was made that 1 was resi- ding with Diganu." " I will explain that circumstance — replied Therese, On the night after your escape, one of the Priest's pa rishioners arrived in the city, and informed him of the fire. He instantly acquainted me with the vexatious occurrence. For the injury to his furniture and books he cared not; his anxiety was concerning your secu- rity : respecting which he dared not to inquire. On the next morning he hurried to his residence, and col- lected all the information which he could obtain ; but he could discover no trace either of you or ot his mo- ney. He did not suppose that you had taken it. Af- ter along and fruitless research, it was concluded, that the fire had originated in Guise's imprudence ; that you had escaped unobserved in the confusion ; and that some persons had obtained possesion of the gold and silver, who carefully secreted the treasure" I again asked — ' ; I )id the Pretre continue his inquiries, and thus make the discovery ? or by what means was my actual existence and place of abode at last ascertain- ed ?" Therese tremulously answered — "I always endea- vored to persuade him that you were dead ; and to my shame, with regret I confess, that I delighted in the thought that you had perished. I argued that it was Utterly impossible you could survive exposure in the 213 Bight in the open air, and that it was most probable you had been drowned, as you could not know any route from that parish. He resisted those ideas, and maintained that you were too squeamish to die of your own accord : nevertheless, he was perplexed. Guise declared, that as soon as they saw the fire, the people at the dance started with all rapidity ; that when she at rived, the flames had made but little progress; that the persons who broke open the doors of the house mentioned nothing, except that the fire seemed to have begun with the stove pipe, and that she tried to find Louise in vain. Every investigation was made, but no information was elicited ; and the men were unani- mous, that all the doors were forcibly entered, and that except the fire, every thing in the house was just as if the Pretre had been at home. For once the Jesuit was baffled, and might have continued so until the end, had he not practised one of his wiles. He engaged all the Priests to make his money the subject of search at con- fession ; and finally authorized them to offer the full possession of the whole property taken from him, and a perfect release from the civil law, with the absolution ©f the Church, to all persons who would give any in- formation respecting the origin of the fire. Had Diganu or Chretien associated with the Priests, or gone to confession as before, they would have heard of it ; although neither of them were suspected as being ac- quainted with any of the circumstances ; for the Pretre had seen Diganu on the morning of the day when they rescued you. Several months had elapsed after ihc Jesuit's crafty contrivance was put in operation* i8 # 214 when he visited me, and stated, that he had received at* anonymous account of Louise's flight. ' Is she alive or dead?' was my inquiry. ' 1 cannot tell — he answered — read this letter : I will see you to-morrow, then we will decide what shall be done. The hand-writing was obviously disguised ; although I am now convinced, that the letter was sent by one of your deliverers. It was doubtless written only to upbraid and tantalize the Pretre." I hastily asked our mother this question — " Before we read that letter — for she had safely preser- ved it — do tell me, Thereae ; were you my companion to the Priest's house, as well as to Jacques ("artier? for I could never satisfy my mind upon that subject V\ Therese replied — " O ! horrible recollection : yes it was I who thus betrayed my own innocent lamb to that ra- vening wolf/' I further inquired — " How is it possi- ble you could so disguise yourself, that I should not be able to recognize either your personal appearance or your voice V* With the deepest emotion, Therese an- swered — " Ah ! my dear Louise ; you know nothing, and well it is that you are ignorant of these devices. I shall not relate a Jesuit's and a Nun's tricks : but every species of concealment they can and do assume to execute their mischievous purposes. When I have been alone, tortured with bodily pain, dismayed with inexpressible anguish, arid all my sins have stared me in the face in their aggravated criminality, my two journies with you, in connection with the dreadful ca- tastrophe at Lorette, have always appeared to include the utmost barbarity and wickedness, which human depravity can possibly combine. Comfort me once 215 more, Louise, with the assurance of your pardon ! sr She paused and trembled. " I have already often as- sured you, my dear mother — was my reply — that I have heartily forgiven all your offences against me ; and I trust that the God of mercy has also blotted them out of the book of his remembrance, and granted you the remission of sin. Whatever I may judge of the transgression, and of your instigator, 1 think, from your detail, that your condition at that period was not less pitiable than odious." She pathetically answer- ed — " Blessed be God ! that I can now venture to re- view those terrific, scenes without that harrowing tor- ment which formerly accompanied the remembrance : and although I abhor myself and my ways, yet I can exercise an humble trust in the efficacy of the Redeem- er's pardoning grace, and I can feebly hope that I have experienced the application of the blood of Christ which cleanseth from ail sin " I subjoined — "1 am con- vinced that it. is this confidence on your behalf which has enabled me to hear your narrative with so little perturbation ; that it is not only exemption from dan- ger and gratitude for deliverance, but also the consola- tion of believing that your transgression is forgiven^ and that your sin is covered. So that, however repul sive it is to survey past deformity, the sting of sin is extracted ; and additional penitence, humility, faith and devotion are enkindled by the painful contempla- tions." The weeping Therese replied — "I think I have found this effect latterly produced in my own mind. On former occasions, when I meditated upon the course ^hich I have pursued, I was overwhelmed with agony } 216 but it was not united with melting. My feelings were the dislike and unsubdued will of the guilty delinquent, not the tender- hearted and sorrowful aversion of the repenting sinner. I was humbled for my wretched- ness, not for my transgressions. I believed, but it was the agonizing convictions of coerced alarm, not the lowly apprehensions of a filial trust ; and 1 cried, but it was a desire to escape from present, pain and anticipa- ted wo ; not the prayer for wisdom, holiness, resigna- tion, and < hnstian peace." I answered— " It is very consolatory to ire, Therese, to witness this gracious transformation in your feelings and views of yourself and of I )ivine truth." Therese tenderly added — " By the Divine blessing, Louise, I owe to you all that I savingly ..now, expe . -uce, and hope; and can only pray that you may be abundantly rewarded for your work of faith and labor of love, according to the Re- deemer's promise !" My reply was — tk Let me read the letter. I am anxious to understand the mysterious occurrence which ferreted me out of my seclusion." To Mr. 1), Pretre. "You are taking much trouble to find out the circum- stances connected with the fire in your house ; and have offered that the money which you say was lost in your house may be retained by any person who se- creted it, provided only you can be fully informed con- cerning that event. But why did you never inquire after the girl you had imprisoned there ? Now if ever 1 hear of any more search being made after the cash, I %ill publish the story about Louise." 21? "What did the Priest say to that threat ? — I asked — did he manifest no uneasiness at the proposed dis- closure?" Therese replied — " Not at ail ; the Jesuit only smiled with contempt. ' Silly fool ! — said the Pretre — his tale would necessarily unfold the robbery ; and as he would be hanged, no person would believe one syllable which he uttered. Besides, the men who first opened the doors, would testify that no person was in the house, and Guise will swear to any thing which she is taught.' But 1 answered — ' Suppose more than one person should hav* been concerned in the affair, how will that affect the point ? The Priest remarked, ' They dare not tell the story for their own sakes ; yet I should rejoice to discover this insolent fellow.' But goon." I continued to read the letter. " As you seem so very desirous to learn something of the matter ; I will tell you what I have heard about it, sometime ago, in Montreal. The man who related the circumstance, mentioned neither time, nor names . nor place ; but from the questions which have been asked by the Cure of our parish, it must be the same affair, arid well may you be willing to give up the hush money. All that rejoices me is that the good girl escaped from your brutal clutches." A smile passed over my countenance, and I inquired of Therese — "Howdid the Pretre receive thatsarcasm ?" Our mother replied — " He swore most furiously ; and declared, that he would find out whether you were dedd or alive. 1 endeavored in vain to turn away his atten- tion from the unholy and as I thought fruitless search. 218 But Providence in a most mysterious manner, has or- dered all our affairs for the best." I proceeded in my perusal. " You will never know who were the chief actors in that affair ; but three young' men travelling stopped at your parish church during mass. Your journey to Quebec was talked of; and the dai.ee at night. It was also mentioned that an old jilt, w ho was left in charge of your house would be at the frolic ; and as the Pretres always have a plenty of money in their possession. The travellers arranged their plan, watched the woman's departure, and them- selves at a Late hour left the habitant's house at which the) had been staving, under the pretext of joining the dance; where, however, they remained but a short time. At three o'clock they left t he frolic unobserved. Having entered your house, they were frightened at the sight, as they thought, of the eld woman, whom they had left at the dance asleep ! hut they instantly discovered that it was a young female preparing toes- cape from the window. She made known her wretch- ed situation ; and so to spoil such a coqum's tricks, the strangers seized your money, invited Louise to accom- pany them, set fire to the house, gave the alarm, and unperceived by any person drove away, amid the shouts and uproar of the party hu lying from the dance. They left the girl the next evening, and can never hear of her since : so that you have Louise's death to an- swer for ; and remember, some more of us are ready to take a peep into your upper apartments, and look at your secret proceedings." 219 M How did the Pretre like this menace ?" I asked, Therse answered — " He was so intimidated, that for a Fong time he was never known to be absent at nightj unless he could engage some of his parishioners to re- main as a guard.' 5 I again inquired — " How did he act upon this information ?" Therese informed me in reply — " Immediately after the reception of this letter, the Jesuit started all his confreres upon the scent, for they are a confederated pack ; but the pursuit was unavail- ing. Every hope of attaining any knowledge of you was nearly abandoned, when the cure of Lorette stated, that he had heard some intelligence of a strange girl, who was sick at that village, about the very time of the fiie. The stupid squaws however had either forgot ten or could give no precise account of the fact. With great difficulty, the Surgeon was finally identified. By a large bribe, he Was induced to unite in the search. When it was ascertained that you had clandestinely left your lodgings, I desired that all fan her inquiries should terminate, as it. would only involve Diganu and Chretien in perplexity." I asked — " Why was your opinion not adopted?" Therese remarked — " You cannot form any idea of the craftiness and pertinacity of a Jesuit Priest in persevering to fulfil that which he has once undertake en. The Pretre cursed most dreadfully, and declared that nothing should satisfy him until he had obtained Undeniable evidence of your death ; and that he would obtain possession of you if you could be found : and he remarked with an expressive tone and look, 'you know, Therese, we cannot be deceived.'" I interposed — ' : That. reminds me of a query which I have often wished to 220 Snake : " Why was the cross imprinted upon Diganu and myself ?" Therese answered — "Merely to iden- tify the children in case of necessity, provided it is de- termined that they shall live. It was the will of the two Priests, that you should bear a cross with their initials, in an oval, which they said was the first letter of my name. But for that mark, you and your brother could not have been separated. It is wonder- ful what a multiplicity of contrivances the Priests and Nuns adopt to recognize their unacknowledged child- ren, if they are spared a premature death in infancy." I replied — " The sight of Diganu's cross so exactly similar to my own instantly convinced me that we should not be married. I never could view him in the relation of a husband." Therese continued — " Your separation was dreadful but necessary. No other mode could be devised without divulging to your father the prior circumstances respecting the manner in which you and Diganu had become acquainted, and even the other Pretre did not possess sufficient effrontery for the confidential exposure of that peculiar iniquity." I added — " We could have been mutually beneficial ; and Diganu would have been calmed in a moment by the demonstration of the fact, that we are maternally related." Our mother remarked — " True ; but my dear Louise ! you forget that the Jesuit's wick- ed design upon you was restored in full vigor, as soon as he ascertained, that you might probably be recov- ered." I suddenly ejaculated — "Thanks be to God ? my soul 'escaped as a bird out of the snare of the fow- ler ; because the Lord was on my side, and my help 221 was in the name of the Lord who made heaven and sarth.' But proceed with your narrative." Therese thus continued. " The first communicat- ion which pleased the Priest, was the Surgeon's state* ment, that the fern ale servant whom Diganu kept was never seen out of the house. From this fact, the wily Jesuit observed that there was cause for more minute inquiry. The Surgeon, however, and the woman with whom you had resided, both avowed that you were not the girl who had been sick at Lorette." I remarked- — ! 'I do not wonder at their being deceived ; for I always dressed souncouthlythat no person could easily havere- cognized me." Therese continued — " Diganu's Father and the Surgeon were outwitted at their interview with the young men. Their immovable firmness, their un» concern at the Priest's details, and their imperturbable composure when his parting menace was pronounced, disconcerted him, and the Pretre's ingenuity was com- pletely frustrated. Every thing might have passed un» heeded, had your appointed marriage been deferred, or had any other place been selected for the ceremony. But as soon as the Cure of Lorette heard Diganu's name mentioned as the bridegroom, the circumstance was communicated to his Father. The Jesuit, without hesitation, affirmed that the choice of Lorette for the marriage was a proof of some peculiar cause, and in- stantly avowed his conviction that you were the pro- posed wife. The squaw was therefore direcied to visit you ; and although rather incoherent, her account ren- dered immediate measures indispensable. Your Fa* 19 222 ther was sent for to meet us at Lorette. He was mere- ly informed that some time before you had eloped from our care. The heresy which you had imbibed from Marguerite was alleged as the cause. It was also stated, that you had been traced to Diganu's house, and that you were engaged t 3 be married ; that a separa- tion was unavoidable ; and to conceal our mutual secrets, he consented to the plan which was executed. Your dress betrayed you ; for the Jesuit and Guise both recognized it upon your entrance into the church. Of the four in the conveyance in which you were driven to the General Hospital, your Father was the most callous. He swore, that it would be preferable to permit your marriage. c: They are not related at all, according to the law of the church — he said — neither of them can have any Father or Mother, because a Priest or a Nun cannot be a parent ; and at all events, a dispensation can be obtained from the Bishop ; and then we shall be no more plagued with them. If Louise will not be a Nun and do like her mother, let her live with Diganu, married or single as they please." His scheme would have been assented to at first, for he proposed it before we meet in the church, had not Diganu's Father resisted the proposition. He could not brook that bitter disappointment : so with true Jesuit grimace he descanted upon illegal marriages ; and your Father feeling neiiher for you nor Diganu more than he did for his brother Priest and me, agreed to those violent measures which were adopted/' I asked Therese — " Can yon inform me why 1 was released from the insane apartment and transferee] to Mon- treal?" 223 u The interview which Diganu and Chretien had with the Bishop — replied Therese — perplexed us; although the Cure of Lorette had stated the circum- stances to him, in such a manner, as to exonerate the Priests, and to criminate your brother and his friends. Nevertheless, the Bishop perceived that the complai- nants were out intimidated by his menaces. He saw in them a cool spirit of resolute defiance ; and as the consequences might affect the priestcraft, he deemed it necessary more minutely to examine the subject The Cure of Lorette was ordered to attend ; and in recoun- ting the threats which Rohoirsic addressed to him ; the Cure expressed his fears, from the number of wit- nesses who were present, some of whom were unknown except to Diganu and Chretien and the lawyer, and therefore could not be secretly removed, that a judi- cial investigation would be attended with serious injury to their order , and recommended that the bishop should interpose his authority, so as to quash those de nounced proceedings at law 7 , which would terminate in the conviction and disgrace of the assailants Mie two Priests w 7 ere therefore directed to meet at the Bishop's palace ; and at first he highly censured them for their doings. However they speedily pacified their superior's pretended wrath, by assuring him that the Nun who was concerned was his own daughter. He immediately visited me in the Convent, and having examined me for the mark of recognition — here our Mother shewed me the sign which had been stamped by his order — the Bishop acknowledged that I was his child, He also stated that my Mother had been Supe- 224 irieure of the General Hospital, but many years before had died. The Jesuit afterwards told me that he had been informed of my relation to the Bishop by the Su« perieure herself; and unknown to me, had been as- sured of the truth of her statement, through having seen the mark which she had described. This deve- lopment changed our affairs, as it placed every one of the parties in a new relation. The Bishop directed that the storm should be appeased by an unqualified assent to all the lawyer's propositions ; but this was not done, until I had explained the subject to my Father at confession ; expressly that as a Priest, under the seal of that secrecy which the ceremony imposes, he might know all the complicated events connected With you and your brother. He accordingly adapted his measures to the crisis ; and being pleased with the character of Diganu and Chretien, he commanded that every requisition which Rohoirsic made to pacify the young men who had so uobly acted should be complied with, if they did not unfold the connection between the Priests and Nuns. The conditions in re* spect to yourselt were the I awyer's spontaneous de= mand — but that Rohoirsic should be convinced, that you both were my children was an essential point with Diganu. Upon this assurance, he has submitted to his deprivation with as much fortitude as he can culti- vate. 1 rejoice in what he is, and in what I hope, we shall be, at our meeting in the invisible world. From the proofs given to Rohoirsic, with the exception of my relation to the Bishop, 1 have no doubt that he under stands the whole secret" "Where did you chiefly 225 reside — I asked — since our separation at the General Hospital?" Therese answered — "I remained in Que- bec about four years, and you were continually near me ; but you never saw me. After that period, I re- quested the Bishop to permit me to reside at Point aux Trembles ; and there I first began to reflect upon my- self. It originated partly in the great difference oi character and temper between myself and one of my associates of nearly my own age. I suspect that she was just such a Nun as you would have been : unsus- picious but reserved, and an unscrutimzing devotee, in whom confidence could be reposed for any thing good : the specimen of a Convent for show, necessary to be kept for display and ornament. I believe that she was as ignorant of the true nature of a Nunnery as a per- son who has never heard of monastic life. She was remarkably placid and lowly, and pursued the ordinary routine not less mechanically than an automaton. We often conversed together, and I was surprised at her real or affected innocence ; but as I felt no inclination to disturb her in her course, I reflected upon her pecu- liar qualities, and at length concluded that her even and useless life was preferable to my own restless and tormenting passions. It is now nearly four years since I began to experience unequivocal symptoms of feeble- ness. Confinement an;*] seclusion occasionally fol- lowed ; and in solitude, my conscience thundered its denunciations against my heinous crimes. The first effect was my dissatisfaction with the Priests. I felt that my whole life was disgusting, that I was charge- able with having done no good, and that the account 17* 226 was evil, only evil, continually. My nervous depres- sions increased. These additionally alarmed 'my ima- gination ; and acting upon a temper naturally cap- tious and vehement and habituated to long unruliness, rendered me peevish and morose. The darkness of my mind filled me with disquietude, and I had no comforter. I requested permission to return to Quebec, To this the Bish p objected ; and during a visit which he made me, he proposed that I should remove to Montreal, with permission to correspond with Rohoirsic. The two years which I passed in the old Nunnery in Montreal were a period of almost unceasing pain both in mind and body, without any alleviation. Scorned, detested and slighted like yourself, but without your interior comforts, and agonized with variety of grief, it was a time of most tormenting fear. The Pretres I abhorred, their doctrines I disbelieved, their mum nery I despised ; and their excommunication I scorned, With inexpressible disquietude I was revolving mv situation, when a sudden thought rushed into my mind to have you for my companion." 1 remarked — " That impression upon your mind must have proceed- ed from Divine influence ; and is another proof upon what fleeting thoughts and apparently trifling events, the most important consequences depend." Therese answered — " So I have latterly considered it. That impression was the gate to the path of the just for me to walk in to the endless day. But O ! what did I feel! shame, disgrace, remorse and even horror! then I desired your forgiveness, hoped for your sympathy, longed for knowledge, and realized an indefinable anx- 227 lety for something or any thing which might calm the tempestuous ragings of my soul. Nothing upon earth could make me more debased ; and I was solicitous to hear you say that you pardoned my unnatural wickedness Like Job, I was full of tossings to and fro ; yet the wish for your company strengthened, and I wrote my first letter to Rohoirsic, containing my request, He saw in the plan an eligible mode to release you fcom your vexations, and resolved to effect it. His inflexible obstinacy alone conquered. He has acted with so much honor, that while the Jesuits hate him for his acquaintance with all their detestable manoeu- vres, they implicitly confide in him in reference to oui affairs. My father having died soon after my removal to Montreal, the present Bishop opposed the scheme, Rohoirsic insisted, and at length, Diganu's father rep- resented that it was of no importance. ' Therese and Louise — said the Priest — are incorrigible and accursed heretics. They cannot long survive; let them live together and quarrel till they are dead." His unquench- able malignity, through Divine compassion, has been disappointed. We are both unknown at Three Rivers, ! therefore selected this place as our residence. The lawyer undertook to persuade you to accede to the ar- rangement ; and here we are in peace. ' What shall I render unto the Lord for his benefits toward me. He hath delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my feet from falling!' — After a pause she added — Do you remember any other particulars, Louise, which you wish to have illustrated ? ' My reply was — " No ; except that you will specify my age." Therese 226 iaid — " You are now nearly thirty-one years old ; a martyr to the depravity of a Jesuit and a Nun — with tearful emotion she presently added — how adorable, my Louise, is that goodness of God which can pardon the monster mother who has murdered such virtuous love- liness ?" As soon as 1 could speak, I subjoined — " Let this reflection and all its connected topics henceforth sleep with your father and my father in grave-like oblivion. We can find ample subjects for discussion in our present experience and future anticipations. As the Apostle Paul has set us the example ; 'let us forget those things which are behind, *»nd reach forth unto those things which are before." Your mother very tenderly replied-—" How kind, my dear Louise ! it shall be as you desire. The past henceforth shall be only subjects for penitence and my private meditation. It shall be mv endeavor to look to Jesus, ' that I may know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings." From that day. with the exception of yourself and Chretien, no extraneous mat- ters, my dear Diganu. attracted our attention ; I trust in the best sense, ' the world was crucified unto us, and. we unto the world.' Louise thus narrated the closing part of Therese's earthly pilgrimage. — I had hoped, as the spring would afford us opportunity of being in the air, that Theresa's strength might be partially restored. We had become endeared to each other as Christian friends, and our daily communion sanctified and cemented our attach- ment. But I was disappointed. She declined very per- 229 ceptibly, until I thought it my duty to inform the lawyer of her situation. Rohousic visited us, received her benediction for you, accepted her gratitude, and promised to fulfil her requests. She then seemed to have discarded all connection with this world except myself. The revolving weeks only witnessed her in- creasing" solicitude that she might not be deceived at last ; that she might not be deserted by the Lord in the valley of the shadow of death ; and that she might enjoy the humblest part in the immortal songs of the redeemed. Sometimes she appeared to dread the ap- proaching separation from the body; while at others, she would speak of it with i rembling hope. I was how- ever gratified to know, that her apprehensions of the spirituality of God's law became more intense. Her pe- titions also were more fervid for the acceptable qualities wrought in the soul by Divine grace; and her anxie- ties to be blessed with the good hope that purifieth the heart steadily increased. Therese imbibed with gree- diness all that knowledge which enlarged her views of spiritual things, especially in their searching operations Upon her own conscience ; and she would often pro- nounce her emphatic assent to the Scriptures and other books. A year had nearly elapsed from our first interview, when Therese manifested symptoms of speedy dissolu- tion. She was composed and equable ; and her whole attention was absorbed by the rromentous question : 1 Am I in Christ Jesus V Divine mercy exempted her from unusual depression ; and her own contrition and. 230 humility precluded any string feelings of elevation, " I feel myself — our mother on one occasion remark- ed — in a situation something like Peter's when he was in the sea. He saw his perilous and helpless state ; he believed the power and mercy of Jesus ; and cried, Lord, save me ! This, Louise, is my abiding experience. I behold my presumptuous sins, my blood-guiltiness, and my great transgressions ; and I can only look to the infinite compassions of him ' who is able to save to the uttermost,' through the ever living Intercessor, [therefore constantly pray, 'deliver me, O God, thou God of my salvation!' My reply was — "No doubt, Therese, the Lord has heard your voice and your sup- plication : and 1 also have often prayed for you, that you may experience, like Peter, the truth of the Lord's mediation ; and that in the trying scene, your faith may not fail." Of herself she spoke but iittle except in the form of ejaculatory supplication ; but her language evinced a heart deeply impressed with all the living realities of the world to come. She often uttered ques- tions, the result no doubt of her previous meditation — -Where shall I so? what shall I be ? what shall I do? whom shall I see 7 what shall I say ? how shall 1 live? am I ready for the change ?' - Then she would request me to read to her those verses of Scripture which de- scribe the future state in its characters, inhabitants and employments, with the pre-requisites which the Lord claims as necessary to an admission into his Father's house of many mansions. Sometimes she would speak with tolerable confidence; and after hearing a paragraph which enumerates the fruits of the spirit as evidences 231 of the work of grace, she would add — •' well, I think, I have attained a little of that quality' — and when re viewing the causes of exclusion from the kingdom of heaven, she would remark — ' Blessed be God ! I think I am cleansed from that stain.' But generally hei Gomfort was restricted to the hope, that she had unfeign edly repented of her sins, and that with sincere de- sire she was 'looking for the mercy of the Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life." For several days before her departure, Therese con tinued in much stupor. Our intercourse was short and unfrequent ; but her feeble expressions developed more confidence. On the last day of her life, the Superieure proposed that the Chaplain should be admitted. I ob- jected : as it violated .ill my religious principles ; but ex pressed my willingness that the Superieure should hint her wish to the dying penitent. During her next sen sible interval, the head of the Convent proffered the at tendance of the Priest to administer the last offices of his Church. With long pauses as her feebleness per mitted, Therese observed — u I am greatly indebted and thankful to yon, Madame, for all your kindness to me and Louise, since we have been residents here ; but this offer I cannot accept. I wish to give you ray dy ing testimony. After a long acquaintance with your religion, lam convinced that it is a gross imposition upon mankind. It is not less impious and absurd in doctrine, than practically immoral and wicked." The Superieure uttered an Ave Mary, and crossed herself in agitation. Therese continued — i: I was educated in 232 your Church, have lived in Convents, and for forty years believed all that the Pretres taught, and did every thing which they ordered me. My alienation from them and their delusions commenced in solitude, when I was 'madeto possess monthsof vanity, and wearisome nights were appointed unto me.' I know all their private infidelity and vices, their Jesuitical finesse, their mas- querading characters, and their public impostures." The Superieure again trembled arid crossed herself, " But I had no substitute lor the evils which my con- science rejected — added Therese. She took my hand — Louise has taught me what I did not know. She has communicated to me instructions from the true word of God ; and in its light, I trust that I have seen the light.' I have discarded your Church. I loathe all its commutations for iniquity, the claim to the Divine prerogative to absolve from sin which the Priests blasphemously assume, and the power which they so iniquitously exercise over the hearts and con- sciences of the silly deceived people, ' laden with sins and taken captive by them at their will' — and I abhor as the source of all evil, the ruinous opinion which they teach, that the everlasting condition of every individual will be determined according to their appointment. The injuries which they have done to me and Louise, we heartily forgive ; and we also pray, that the Lord will have mercy upon you and upon them, and upon the deceived multitudes whom as ' blind guides, they are leaning into the ditch.' I am not now one of their disciples. To a Roman Priest, I will make no confes- sion. I abhor his pretended absolution, wbicb he will 233 pronounce only for money or for his criminal gratifica- tion ; and which, as they often told me, depended upon their intention ; but who can be certain of what a Jesuit's designs, except probably by the rule of re- verse ? As to their extreme unction, I am certain that it is the invention of Satan to smooth the entrance to eternal despair. I request therefore, that I may be per- mitted to depart in quietude, and not be discomposed in my last moments by a rite which Christianity con- demns. I am now in charity and peace with all man- kind. My dear Louise ! do not permit the holy calm within to be ruffled." I replied — " The Superieure, my dear mother, has only performed her duty ; I dis- approve ■ of the measure ; and I rejoice that through the expression of her wish, the Lord has enabled you to declare your opinions." Therese continued — " I have now done with the world, Louise; and you will soon follow me. That blessed book which opened my blind eyes and healed my broken heart, will support you during your short remaining stay on earth ; and I trust that we shall again meet in that joyful state, where c the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at. rest.' Pray for me, while I can understand your peti- tions and join with you in desire." 1 presumed that the Superieure would have withdrawn ; but as she had been directed to witness the manner of ThereseV death, she remained by the bed. I breathed forth ray bumble but sincere prayer for our dying mother, ant for my beloved Diganu. Her amen was appended ic/ my supplications, as my emotions obliged me to pause ; especially when your welfare was the subject, and a!cr 234 when I implored that she might enjoy the light of God's countenance in the parting moment, and be carried by angels into Abraham's bosom. The Su- perieure was evidently affected. To her it was a novelty incomprehensible, that a heretic would pray to God through Jesus Christ. As I arose from my knees, Therese motioned to me to approach nearer to her ; and having kissed me, with a look of tender affection she said — "My dear Louise, 1 hope all is well. I trust that I have found acceptance in Christ. May God hear and answer your prayers, and may you ever experience his grace, mercy and peace, until we meet in the joys of heaven !" Having presented the Superieure her adieu, she reclined her head in a doze, occasionally interrupted by the motion of her lips, which, from the clasping of her hands, betokened prayer. Her breath and pulse gradually became more faint. After several hours, we distinctly perceived a placid smile overspreading her languid features ; she opened her eyes, and looked upon me. I took her hand ; she feebly returned the pressure — it was her last effort ! presently my mother uttered — " I shall, Louise, I shall" — and her spirit re' jrnedto the God who gave it. Her corpse was removed by Rohoirsic's di- rections ; and I was consoled by hearing, my dear Brother, that you had attended your Mother's remain? to " the house appointed for all living." DEATH OF LOUISE Death springs to life : — Though brief and sad thy story, Thy years all s^pent in care and gloom. Look up, look up ! Eternity and glory Dawn through the portals of the tomb. Louise thus finished her narrative. " My deas brother ! I have been employed for some time in ex amining the papers which record my experience since oui separation ; and as I know not how soon the mes- senger may be despatched for you to witness my dis- solution, while I have a little strength, I will supply all that is necessary for you fully to retrace my vary ing exercises. " From the first sight of the cross on your head so exactly similar to my own, I always felt as if we were naturally related. When I assented to your proposal of marriage, my feelings revolted, notwithstanding all my affection for you ; and something whispered within me, you cannot be married. Nothing but the dread of losing your protection and that of Chretien, and of being again separated and exposed to my former dan gers, induced my involuntary acquiescence. It is ina possible to explain to you the unceasing perplexity in 236 which I passed my nights and days. Every one oi those incidents which alarmed us urged me nearer to you as the only alternative of escape ; while every feel- ing of my heart repelled the idea of a matrimonial con- nection. The only point on v i.ich i never wavered, was respecting the performance of the nuptial ceremony at Lorette. A deep-rooted prepossession, for which I never could account was fixed in my heart, that as there w r e first became acquainted, so there it should termi nate or be sealed for ever. Therese intimated, that a delay in the time and a change in the place would have overcome all the difficulties ; but this was an incorrect impression which the deceitful Pretre had given her; for he informed me, although it might have involved more trouble, that the result would have been the same. You and Chretien were so closely and incessantly watched, that you could not have left Quebec without being pursued ; and he also assured me with the ut- most sang-froid, that your lives if necessary would have been forfeited, rather than you should have escaped to publish the fact of my abduction. %t Nothing is more easy — said the Jesmt, v th a petrifying look of malig nant obduracy, which I shall ever recollect — and they would have been remembered only with abhorrence. ,? Every Priest w T as instructed how to act in case two young men named Digaou and Chretien offered them- selves for marriage ; so that 1 am now convinced, the melancholy affair was ordered in wisdom and mercy. Through your means 1 v as elivered your mother converted, and a peaceful seclusion is secured to me as long as 1 am a sojourner in this vale of t^ars 23? To Rohoirsic, under God, I am indebted for all the alleviations of my trials during my residence in Quebec, I cannot describe to you his agitation, while I narrated my doleful tale. He delicately requested me to evade any facts which it would pain me to disclose ; and manifested great satisfaction at the recital of my escape ; but resolutely pronounced his indignation. Fear not. Louise ; — he said, at the close of my narrative — as far as is consistent with the personal safety of Diganu and Chretien, you shall have redress. They cannot alle- viate your sorrow — I can ; and be assured, in spite of all the power, artifices, and malevolence of every Je- suit in Canada, I will be your friend and protector, or some other person shall fill that office, as long as you live.' We separated. His promise was a reviving cor- dial ; the benefits of which I have enjoyed during ten years, undiminished both in its sweets and plenteous ness, " Notwithstanding all the servile duties which I wns obliged to perform, my spirits remained cheerful. I lived upon the truth of the Divine word. I suppli- cated for light to discern my spiritual way ; and the Hearer of prayer graciously condescended to apportion my ability to my burden. The irregularities which I witnessed only increased my aversion to sin. The pretended arguments with which my principles were assailed affected my mind no more than the green withes which bound Samson's strength. The heartless formality with which the Popish ceremonies were des- patched, onlv confirmed mv dislike of that hoUow 20*" 238 imposing exterior which concealed the real corruption Even the most vexatious of all their devices, the con tumefy of the uninformed youth eventually produced no other effect, than to keep me nearer the Lord> whom I found to be ' my refuge and fortress, and whose truth was my shield and buckler.' Yet there were hours of overwhelming dreariness. I was not formed for solitude, and the little of Christianity which I knew, often rendered the want of communion with a fellow pilgrim, a subject of almost undevout murmur. When I annually heard of you and Chretien ; of your exem plary characters; of your steadfast adherence to youF principles, and of your prayers on my behalf, I have frequently ejaculated— ' O that I had wings like a dove ! for then would I fly away and be at rest' with you. Then after a temporary reverie,! would awake to the consciousness of my confined cell, and feel an over- powering restless aching void, which was only assua- ged by the application of the gospel ; and with all solicitude to realize its force, I would utter — 'I will say unto God, my rock, why hast ttiGu forgotten me ? why go I mourning because of the oppression of the enemy 7 why art thou cast down, O my soul ? and why art thou disquieted within me 1 Hope thou in God; for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance and my God." This calmed the tempest; and although I counted the interval to the New Year's day with impatience ; yet when the transient interview with the lawyer had terminated, it generally agitated my heart for some days after ; and it was the most difficult portion of all the evangelical schooling which 239 I experienced, to acquiesce with the Lord's will. Di vine grace, however, at length enabled me to say, and I think in the same resigned temper with which David addressed Zadok ; ' here am J, let him do to me as seemeth good unto him.' I now understand the cause of this gospel discipline. The Lord was gradually preparing my heart for the duties of that grateful office which I was destined to execute. Had I known the name of my proposed associate, it is probable that I should have refused all solicitation ; but I had so long e«xpe rienced Rohoirsic's fidelity, that his word was law with me. Then first I understood that Christian obligation, to do good for its own sake. Thanks be to God ! it was effected ; and Lean truly say, that in giving, I re- ceived. Truly I was a novice in almost every thing', and confinement in the Nunnery had not instructed me. It was a mercy, therefore, that I witnessed your Mother's last year. Death and sickness, except in my own experienced debility, I had never seen ; for the Nuns at Quebec excluded me from all intercourse, as much as if I had been infected with the plague. At Three Rivers I very impressively learnt how mortality vanisheth away. In a most affecting example, I saw how the Lord can adapt his mercy. Anxiously I be held every step in the pathway of righteousness trod- den by Therese, from the city of destruction to the river of death, until grace triumphed in glory . Du ring this whole scene, I was also deeply convinced of my own increasing frailty ; but I had a companion. Her strong bursts of penitential anguish enlivened my own ftmCrite feelings. Her occasional vehemence to take 240 ihe kingdom of heaven by force quickened my own sincere endeavors. Her aspirations of praise inspired my gratitude ; and her closely scrutinizing application of the Divine oracles, taught "me the genuine charac- ters of that spiritual mindedness which is life and peace. The lesson has been most salutary. Of the soul's se- paration from the body, my ideas were vague, incohe- rent and without sensibility; now they are precise, de- terminate, and animating. I have marked a penitent sinner's change ; an emaciated Mother's conversion to God ; and a humble, cautious, and apprehensive believer, casting her hope as a sure and steadfast 1 anchor within the veil, whither the Forerunner for us is entered ;' and I can retrace this whole Christian landscape of the narrow road, with all that I can in- clude in the most joyful interpretation of the patient Job's cheerfully resigned and peacefully confident lan- guage. It expresses your Louise's feelings and solid tudes: 'all the days of my appointed time will I wait till my change come.' a l was removed from Three Rivers almost immedi- ately after the death of Therese. Rohoirsic visited me, and stated that if I approved, I might return to Que- bec to reside in private lodgings ; and that he had agreed with Diganu's Father, that you, my brother, should not be apprized of the fact until our final inter- view, when I should be on the threshhold of eternity. This delighted me, and the lawyer provided apart- ments where almost daily I have seen you and Chretien, 241 1 could have informed you of nothing which these papers will not communicate. In my feeble condition, frequent personal intercourse would only have agitated our feelings unnecessarily, and opened your wounds afresh without any balm to assuage the pain. It has been a cordial to my spirits to behold you, and to pray for my brother and his friend as you have passed along the street, unconscious that your Louise was so near you. Often have I rejoiced to hear your names asso- ciated with every thing good. Always have I felt de- lighted in the assurance that our mutual requests con- stantly ascend to the throne of grace ; and that we shall meet in " the New Jerusalem, around the throne ot God and of the Lamb, with his name in our foreheads; there to see his face, and serve him day and night in his temple." " My increasing debility urges me to seal the packet of manuscripts intended for your perusal. When you read these papers, my dear Diganu, you will rejoice as your Louise has rejoiced, and you will weep with those who have wept. The anticipation of Paradise ha. c often supported me amid my severest earthly trials ; and now in the nearing approach of dissolution^ the prospective reunion with our Mother and you and Chretien, among ' the great multitude whom no man can number, to stand before the throne and before the Lamb, and sing salvation to our God," so enraptures my heart, ihat it. leaves me nothing to desire, but to be ' clothed upon with our house which is from heaven, 242 ihat mortality might be swallowed up of life : and being accepted, that we may be present with the Lord!' Amen. " Accept, my beloved Brother, the undying love, and the Christian benediction of your unchanged and faith- fully affectionate sister. Louise. POSTCRIPT BY DIGANU. ;i At the close of the year 17 — Ruhoirsic visited us He mentioned his agreement with the Pretre, that in the last period of her life, we should be admitted to the presence of Louise ; made us acquainted with her remo- val to Quebec, and nlso stated that she had frequently seen us. 'I came to apprize you of these circumstan- ces — said our friend — and also to inform you that she is now reduced so low, that you may prepare your minds for the invitation to the closing scene of her mor- tal existence." After several days Rohoirsic again appeared, and said — "Louise has been much affected with the plea- sing anticipation of meeting you. You will find her extremely altered in appearance, so that you would not recognize her, except by her voice, and the cross. You are nearly the same, — she says — as she identified you both in the street, when you were first noticed by her. Louise is at the portal of eternity ; perfectly conscious, in all her mental vigor ; and although she can speak but 243 little, she is anxious to present you her last adieu.' He retired ; and after a short interval returned. ' Come — said our friend — Louise is near death, but fully sensible, and desirous to receive you.' Who can conceive what [ felt, when on entering the room, we saw instead of the once blooming and grace- lul Louise, a pale skeleton ? She presented her hand— 1 Let me look at your head' — even in its feebleness, it was her own delightful, well-remembered voice. ' It is Diganu' — she said ; and as she turned back her hair with her cold hand, I beheld the cross — ' My Louise !' I could utter no more. We exchanged our tenderest salutation. After a short silence, she beck- oned to Chretien who also received the kiss of our dy- ing protegee. When we had partially recovered our feelings, she addressed me with great difficulty. ' My Brother, here is a packet which 1 wished to deliver into your own hands — she gave me Hie narrative of her ex- perience — our friend will fulfil all my directions.' She then presented her thanks to Rohoirsic for all his cart and kindness, and prayed that the Lord would reward him a hundred fold ; and that he might inherit ever- lasting life. As Chretien received her testimonial of affection, he thanked God that he w-as permitted to behold her in peace. ! Yes, Chretien — she replied — your friend has no doubt of her eternal safety.' She then addressed me "I sent for you, my beloved Brother, that we might once more unite our devotion? on earth. Pray for me and for yourselves; and your Louise will join in pleading with God on your behalf 244 i attempted to comply. All I remember is this ; that what was defective in language and manner was sup- plied by feeling and sincerity. At the end of my pray- er, she uttered her amen ; and after I had resumed my station by her, she faintly said — ' All my worldly de- sires and connections now are ended. God bless you, my Brother !' she sunk into forget full! ess, while re- clining on my shoulder, but after some time ; Louise again opened her languid eyes, and gave me an ex- pressive glance*; then as she presently appeared to be looking stedfastly upwards, my sister whispered to me — ' Diganu, I see it. Lord Tesus ! I come.'— Her eyes closed ; and she entered the rest that remaineth to the people of God. We interred Louise by the side of her mother ; and there I expect to repose, in certain hope of the resurrection of the just. Diganu- V, * '