thers?*

And yet it was so. A train of doubts

crossed my mind while I was trying to begin an answer; a deep fear of dishonesty confused my recollection of the arguments which Church policy has accumulated on this point. In this hurry and trepidation of my mind, it could see nothing but objections to the practice of the Church. I recollected that virgins were consecrated to God at a very early period: that the Fathers reproved them for marrying. But no compulsion was used until the civil government came to the assistance of the clergy, with pains and penalties. Probably the first idea of com

* The TRAVELLER should have examined the Fathers, either more impartially or more carefully. Did he never see a most indecent letter of Cyprian, relating to the consecrated virgins? It is the eleventh of the first book. (Ed. Basil, 1558.) That letter which abounds in passages, showing the profligacy which, at so early a period of the Church, existed under the cloak of sanctity, contains the positive assertion, that females who had devoted themselves, as virgins, might marry, without blame, if they found themselves unable or unwilling to bear the consequences of their vows. Quod si se ex fide Christo dicaverunt, pudicè et caste sine ulla fabula perseverent, ita fortes et stabiles præmium virginitatis expectent. Si autem perseverare nolunt, vel non possunt, melius est ut nubant, quàm in ignem deliciis suis cadant. Note by the Editor.

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pulsion was suggested by the horrible laws of the Romans in regard to the Vestal Virgins. But while all this was rapidly passing before me, the lovely Rose Cusiack presented herself to my mind in nun's weeds, pale and faint, and bearing the unquestionable marks of a hectic fever on her cheeks. "Is heaven," (said the tempter within me) "so cruel! Does heaven demand a bond in the spirit of Shylock! Could the devil be more close in a bargain?" But my external silence had now been too long, and I forced myself to speak: Madam, my dear madam-the Church-to avoid scandal...that is to say...the Church, in mercy to the weakness and instability of the human will, has thought it necessary to bind it with irrevocable vows. But those vows are voluntary. The votaress is seriously warned not to take them lightly...and "But, my dear friend, (urged Mrs. Cusiack) are not those who represent the Church constantly alluring devout young females into the cloisters? I do not positively blame them, but the priesthood and the nuns themselves show such an

unbounded interest in every girl who appears inclined to take the veil, that, to some young hearts, the lure becomes irresistible. Now, for instance, my lovely Rose: had she a less noble and less ardent mind, were she less attached to a mother who doats upon her, she would have been my stay and comfort for the few years which I may expect to live. I say advisedly that were she less noble-minded, and less attached to me, she would not be thus snatched away from me.

But as you

well know, such minds are the most ready to inflict pain upon themselves. In proportion

to the pain which the intended sacrifice inflicts, is the feeling that it must not be denied to heaven. My daughter is made to believe in a divine call, just because her heart shrinks from the convent, and clings to me. Surely, surely, pain must be virtue. Every thing in the practice of the Church teaches this lesson. But I fear that ardent minds, like that of my daughter, might, upon that principle, be easily induced to commit their bodies to the flames as the Brah

min widows. Oh, that she had been less perfect! She might then have married an amiable man, a man whom I loved, and who loved me, as you do. (The pale countenance of the distressed mother blushed up). Cheerfully indeed would I have borne my growing infirmities in their company. But it must not be; I must be left to myself. Let it be so: one better than such a poor sinner-the blessed mother of Christ felt, for a time at least, the anguish of forlornness. And yet it seems as if her blessed Son had wished to teach us that the pain of such solitude is too oppressive, too bitter for the female heart. Woman, behold thy Son,' he said, and trusted her to the care of the disciple he loved."

I cannot well remember, much less could I explain, what passed within me while I listened to these words. Judgment, previous resolutions, even the becoming fortitude of a man against tender emotions, all deserted me in an instant. "Madam, (I exclaimed, seizing Mrs. Cusiack's hand with both mine) Oh that I could say mo

ther! Had not the hopelessness of my most ardent wishes smothered them in my heart, I would long since have told you, that to be such a support to you, would turn this earth into a heaven in my eyes. Oh that I could aspire to the happiness of being your daughter's husband."

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My friend, my dear friend! (she answered in great agitation) what evil spirit has betrayed both of us into this distracting state of mind? I have fallen into a snare, and drawn you into it with me. I could not, indeed, disguise to myself the fact that you were in love with my daughter. But hopelessness, as you say, would have kept down the flame, had not my weakness given it vent. I have ruined your happiness.Forgive me, my dear friend, my son.—Oh that can never be !"

"But why not?" said I, in a tone which seemed to challenge all difficulties. Could I but hope that Rose might love me, I do not see anything to prevent my happiness. She is not yet bound by vows.' Alas! alas! (exclaimed Mrs. Cusiack) she is indeed! It is