The part of the world in which I am, so far as I can understand, does not abound with piety. The Methodists are tolerably successful, and somewhat numerous. Wherever we stand up there is enough for us to do. Seldom shall we stand up, I suppose, to address an audience of which it may be justly said, the majority are pious. If you are close to , you will have, I conclude, the unspeakable advantage of frequent intercourse with aged Ministers. Here I shall envy you your enjoyment. We must read much, it is true; but it may be justly said, that we must speak much if we can obtain the company of those who are rich in the sterling wisdom of personal experience. I shall expect a letter from you, at your own discretion. At present, I cannot expect you can be very settled; but your troubles are cœlitus dimissa.' Looking up through them to the awful and gracious God, you will not fail to derive from them what gold they afford. I am troubled much; but my greatest trouble is, that I do not know more of the sacred Three; that amid terrors, I am so unmoved, amid mercies, so ungrateful; that as a sinner, I can weep no more, and that the salvation which is in Jesus does not inspire me with greater joy. When will the shadows flee away? Is mortality so heavy a weight, so thick a veil, so great an evil! In praying seasons, make an occasional petition for me. Pray communicate my best remembrance to

6

who

I hope enjoys health and spirits. What you please to Tu Marcellus eris.' I am ashamed to send you so dull a letter, which only tells you I still live, and am,

With affection,

Your friend,

THE SPANISH NUN.

From Doblado's Letters from Spain.

That many nuns, especially in the more liberal convents, live happy, I have every reason to believe; but on the other hand, I possess indubitable evidence of the exquisite misery which is the lot of some unfortunate females, under similar circumstances. I shall mention only one case, in actual existence, with which I am circumstantially acquainted.

A lively and interesting girl of fifteen, poor, though connected with some of the first gentry in this town, having received her education under an aunt, who was at the head of a wealthy, and not austere, Franciscan convent, came out, as the phrase is, to see the world, previous to her taking the veil. I often met the intended novice at the house of one of her relations, where I visited daily. She had scarcely been a fortnight out of the cloister, when that world she had learned to abhor in description, was so visibly and rapidly winning her affections, that at the end of three months, she could hardly disguise her aversion to the veil. The day, however, was now fast approaching which had been fixed for the ceremony, without her feeling sufficient resolution to decline. Her father, a good but weak man, she knew too well could not protect her from the illtreatment of an unfeeling mother, whose vanity was concerned in thus disposing of a daughter, for whom she had no hopes of finding a suitable match. The kindness of her aunt, the good nun to whom the distressed girl was indebted for the

happiness of her childhood, formed, besides, too strong a contrast with the unkindness of the unnatural mother, not to give her wavering mind a strong, though painful bias towards the cloister. To this were added all the arts of pious seduction so common among the religious of both sexes. The preparations for the approaching solemnity were, in the mean time, industriously got forward with the greatest publicity. Verses were circulated, in which her confessor sang the triumph of Divine Love over the wily suggestions of the impious. The wedding-dress was shown to every acquaintance, and due notice of the appointed day was given to friends and relatives. But the fears and aversion of the devoted victim grew in proportion as she saw herself more and more involved in the toils she had wanted courage to burst when she first felt them.

It was in company with my friend Leandro, with whose private history you are well acquainted, that I often met the unfortunate Maria Francisca. His efforts to dissuade her from the rash step she was going to take, and the warm language in which he spoke to her father on that subject, has made her look upon him as a warm and sincere friend. The unhappy girl, on the eve of the day when she was to take the veil, repaired to church, and sent him a message, without mentioning her name, that a female penitent requested his attendance at the confessional. With painful surprise he found the future novice at his feet, in a state bordering on distraction. When a flood of tears had allowed her utterance, she told him that, for want of another friend in the whole world to whom she could disclose her feelings, she came to him, not, however, for the purpose of confession, but because she trusted he would

With a warmth

listen with pity to her sorrows. of eloquence above her years, she protested that the distant terrors of eternal punishment, which, she feared, might be the consequence of her determination, could not deter her from the step by which she was going to escape the incessant persecution of her mother. In vain did my friend volunteer his assistance to extricate her from the appalling difficulties which surrounded her in vain did he offer to wait upon the archbishop, and implore his interference: no offers, no persuasions,could move her. She parted as if ready to be conveyed to the scaffold, and the next day she took the veil.

The real kindness of her aunt, and the treacherous smiles of the other nuns, supported the pining novice through the year of probation. The scene I beheld when she was bound with the perpetual vows of monastic life, is one which I cannot recollect without an actual sense of suffocation. A solemn mass, performed with all the splendour which that ceremony admits, preceded the awful oaths of the novice. At the conclusion of the service, she approached the superior of the order A pen, gaily ornamented with artificial flowers, was put into her trembling hand, to sign the engagement for life, on which she was about to enter. Then, standing before the iron grate of the choir, she began to chaunt, in a weak and faint voice, the act of consecration of herself to God: but having uttered a few words, she fainted into the arms of the surrounding nuns. attributed to mere fatigue and emotion. No sooner had the means employed restored to the victim the powers of speech, than, with a vehemence which those who knew not her circumstances attributed to a fresh impulse of holy zeal,

This was

and in which the few that were in the painful secret saw nothing but the sadness of despair, she hurried over the remaining sentences, and sealed her doom for ever.

The real feelings of the new votaress were, however, too much suspected by her more bigoted or more resigned fellow-prisoners; and time and despair making her less cautious, she was soon looked upon as one likely to bring disgrace on the whole order, by divulging the secret that it is possible for a nun to feel impatient under her VOWS. The storm of conventual persecution (the fiercest and most pitiless of all that breed in the human heart) had been lowering over the unhappy young woman during the short time her aunt, the prioress, survived. But when death had left her friendless, and exposed to the tormenting ingenuity of a crowd of female zealots, whom she could not escape for an instant, unable to endure her nisery, she resolutely attempted to drown herself. The attempt, however was ineffectual. And now the merciless character of Catholic superstition appeared in its full glare. The mother, without impeaching whose character, no judicial steps could be taken to prove the invalidity of the profession, was dead; and some relations and friends of the poor prisoner were moved by her sufferings to apply to the church for relief. A suit was instituted for this purpose before the ecclesiastical court, and the clearest evidence adduced of the indirect compulsion which had been used in the case. But the whole order of St. Francis, considering their honour at stake, rose against their rebellious subject, and the judges sanctioned her vows as voluntary and valid. She lives still in a state approaching to madness, and death alone can break her chains.