The beautiful nun
page: (TitlePage) [View Page (TitlePage) ]THE BEAUTIFUL NUN. BY NED BUNTLINE. AUTHOR OF ," THE MYSTERIES OF NEW ORLEANS," "MYSTERIES AND MSERIES OF NEW YORK," "THE BO-'HOYS OF NEW YORK," ETC., ETC. COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME. Philadelphia: T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS; 306 CHESTNUT STREET. page: 0-19[View Page 0-19] Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, in and for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. THE BEAUTIFUL NUN. CHAPTER I. ITALY! land of sunshine and of flow- ers; by the hand of GOD, made beau- tiful; by the hand of man, left deso- late! Its choicest flowers trodden un- der foot by tyrants; its streams crim. son with the blood of martyred patri- ots; its breezes laden with the sighs of exiles, of widows and of orphans. Its dungeons filled and its granaries empty. Such is Italy. Rome-once the capital of the Em- pire that held the sceptre of the World. Once the abode of philosophers, ora- tors, men of genius, or warriors renown- ed alike for bravery and virtue. Rome, the home of the sculptor, the poet and the painter. The city of palaces, sev- en-hilled Rome! What is she now? A garrison for French banditti-her glory gone, her beauty departed. The assassin at midnight creeps along her streets; the spy of the Inquisition in- fests her households; the executioner and torturer waits the beck and com- mand of the hellish brood of Loyala, to rend bodies and souls asunder. Such is Rome--CHRISTIAN Rome! CATH- OLIC ROME! The date of this first chapter is in 1821. It was autumn-the time when the peasants gathered the' large ripe grape-clusters from the laden vines and bore them to the wine press. In the rear of a palace which stood upon the Tiber, was a garden, filled with trees and vines and flowers, all things beau- tiful. This garden was enclosed by a wall so high that only the uppermost branches of the trees overtopped it. Among the labarynthian paths which (19) page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] wound through this garden, paths fring- ed by flowers, wandered a lady, herself lovelier than the loveliest blossoms there. She was not a bud of beauty either , full blown did she seem. Have you ever seen an Italian beauty? No? Then look at this picture. She was' tall, rather slender in waist, but with a magnificent bust. Erect, yet lithe in her movements, she seemed to glide rather than walk' over the ground. I: need not descant upon her beitutiful Ihands, or descend to. the s1mall feet which the flowers meekly bent their heads to kiss, but will at once dtlire to look up into her face, the index of the soul. Her forehead was not very Iligh- but it was arched beneath a cor!Cet of hair darker than the breast-duwn of the raven, looking white and slmooltlh s al- abaster. Her nose was grecian. and her lips so rosy red, were curwd 'like Cupid's bow. A neck wlhich lMedici would have copied for his Venus, de- scended gracefully to tl1e sloping?shoal' ders, which, like her brow, wer-e sot-. less as the lily which sleeps upon tlic bot- som of the lake. Her eyes. frimgred anl shaded by, long black lashes. were soft. dewy, sleepy eyes, but such as when once lit up by the fire of passion can flash a thousand lightnings in a glance. Trust not such calm, deep, dark, liquid eyes, and think them passionless. As soon trust the dark deep ocean when the winds stir not its waves into anger and to life.' The lady wandered on, with her eyes down-cast upon the ground, seeming to he pensively meditating upon some sub- ject.. Nor did she scem very haplpy, for often she breathed sighs which rose from her very heart, to judge from tlhe throbbing heave of her bosom. And her check too, was pale. Arriving at a bower near the wall, she entered it and sat down upon a mossy couch. Some flowers grew near her. She plucked some of them, gazed at them a mnoment, and then, abstract- edly. as if she knew not what she was doing, plucked them leaf by leaf, to pieces Then she drew a miniature from, her bosom, gazed at it a morment, then fondly, passionately pressed it to her lips. It was the portrait of a young man, not a cavalier, but by the garb in which he was represented, a Novitiate in the Society of Jesus, or the "Order of Jesuits." It sdemed stranrge too, that she should thus seem devoted to one whose vows inculcated celibacy, poverty, humility and chasti- ty. Gazing on it, with her humid eyes, she murmured: ' Dear Allesandro, would that my lips were pressed to thine, rather than to this insenlsate ivory. Would that' thou wert pressed now to my burning heart!" As she spoke, a silrill chirrup, like the note of a bird attracted her atten- tion. and her t'face. flushed with delight as she sprang to her feet and cried- * 'Tis his signal!" She drew a small golden. whistle from her bosom, such as is often used in those countries in place of a bell to call servants, and blew a low note. Then, as she glanced up to. ward the wall, a dark form was seen standing amid the foliage of the trees which reached above it-a moment luore and it glided down from branch to branchl-was by her side, was clasp- ed to her bosom. '"Constanza! Angel' mia t" he mur- mured. "Allessandro, dear Allessandro!" was her reply. and kisses, warm, mel- ing kisses spoklr the rest. The gentlecnan was drcssed like, and bore true semblance to the por- trait she had been gazing upon. Re-entering the bower, they- seated themselves on the mossy couch wliere- upon she had before reclined. He was a man, who although . not strikingly handsome, never would pass unnoticed in a crowd. His age, as that of the lady, did not seem to be over wenty or twenty-two or three years but his countenance indicated maturity of chlaracter and of thought, he evi- dently was an Italian by birth--hi- features classic and his mnien haugtty. Little did he seemn, as he proudly press- ed that beautiful woman to his breast, like a meek and humble member of a monastic order. His thin lips were curled haughtily, his jet black eye flash- ed bright, as if it owned none that could look it down. His lofty brow, and his general features betokened in- tellect, a deathly pallor on his cheek, and thinness of featutres, indicated men tal exercise and study. After they were seated, the lady re- newing her caresses, asked: '; Why, dear Allessandro, have you been so long absent from me? For weary days have I sought our trysting place-wandered like a lost one through this wilderness of flowers, yet you canme not. Though the sun shone brightly all this time, yet those days were nights, starless nights to me, for you were ab- sent!" "Dear Constanza," he replied--." do not blame .me. I am watched, and closely. A terrible espial surrounds every Novitiate of our order. Would to God I was free from it. My father's will binds me to my vows; were it known to the GENBKiAL that they were as they are in my boundless love for thee, broken, I know not what fate -would await me. The mysteries of the Inquisition, its penalties, its tortures, its secrets, are like those of DEATH and the GRAVE, to be feared, to be imagin- ed, and yet to us they are unknown.-- You know that I love you!" "Yes, dear Allessandro, and I have given proof to you of my truth and de- votion. When woman gives all, risks all for him she loves, it would be more thlan cruel to doubt her affection!" "Yours, I do not doubt, my Coln- stanza!" ' 0h no, you cannot-a few months more and an image of yourself will ap pear, and then-" ' How can we conceal it-how hide from the world the proof of our imlpru- dence?" "Allessandro! Did I hear you aright -did you ask how we should conceal the proof of,our imprudence? Impru- dence, you call it, of love I thought it i" '"Well, of love or imprudence, in truth of both, my angel!" "Allessandro, you were not used to spealk so lightly upon so serious a sub- ject!" ' Love, do not misdoubt me; I do not speak lightly now. As I said be- fore, I fear there is trouble in the camp. I am watched closely. I have had no chance to escape surveillance until to-day. The day before yester- day, I saw your father engaged in se. cret conference with the General.- Though I knew not the subject of their conversation, still I feared that it might relate to us, though they have never page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] had a chance to know that we have met since I took my vows of noviation!" "Allessandro, those vows are not fi- nal; you can recall them*!" "Yes, but at what penalty? The loss of my fortune I care not for, but I dare not make enemies of an Order whch boasts of universal power-which can, alike arm the assassin's hand, fill the poisoned goblet, or shake the mon- arch's throne-a power invisible, yet terrible I A power which, moving darkly, veils its victims from the slight- est ray of hope-which writes its re.. cords in human blood. Constanza, I am -no coward, but when I think of the Inquisition I fear and tremble!" "And I do not!" replied the lady, haughtily. "I am not bound by their vows, I am not amenable to their laws, I-" "You err, lovely lady!" said a soft. gentle voice, close beside her. Both her and her partner started to their feet-turned and beheld a tall, thin figured person, whose front was robed in a long gown of black, serge.- Upon his left breast he wore a a small gold cross, otherwise he was in garb unmarked from other priests. HHe had a noble, but stern and severe counten- ance, an eye of deep grey, which seemed to penetrate into the very soul of the listener, which was shadowed by a mas. i sive, overhanging brow. Yet stern and i severe as he looked, his voice was low i and gentle, yet it seemed to chill the two who heard him speak. , "The General I!" said Allessandro. The lady spoke not, but she trem- A bled, brave as she had thought her- 1 self. " Yes, the General, Allessandro," said the intruder. u Bgone, sir, to i your cell, and await my coming!" "Nay, linger not," he added, as he saw the novitate hesitate, " it were better for this lady as well as yourself e that you obeyed, you can go as you I came, now; hesitate and you shall de- r part by another road!" h The young man bowed his hena, 1 glanced once at the pale face of \lis - beloved, then departed. She remain- ft ed, standing statue-like where he had t left her. The man who had been addreessed * by the novitate as the "General," re. C garded her for a few moments ill silence, as if he was studying her chiar- acter, or trying to divine her thoughts. , But he could read nothing in her pale r face, in her downcast eyes. Hte spoke. "Daughter, you have sinned. sinned grievously!" "In what, sir?" she asked. "In seducing a son of' the church, from his God and duty, daughter; in engrossing his thoughts and turning his mind away fron'the path whicn it should follow. You have sinned. daughter!' ' My heart does not tell me so!" she replied, gathering courage and strength, as she continued, for now her eye met his without quailing. '"Hearts are feeble and liable to be deceived, daughter," he continued--it is for those who are wiser than you- it is for the ministers of the IIolv Church to judge of your errors, and to punish them!" "My GOD is my Judge. To hiu ALONE am I accountable!" said the lady. "Heresy--heresy! Beware what you say. Who has taught yousuch pernicious doctrines!" - "No one -nature teaches me that to Nature's GOD alone am I responsi- ble. From HIM I receive my impulses, to HIM I breathe my prayers and HIM alone I fear!" "Daughter, you are. in error-thy mind has been darkened by some ma- lignanit heretic; ice shall look into this. Beware and forget the impious apostate who has dared to love thee sand forget his duty!" The General of the Jesuits turned away as he spoke and disappeared. The lady stood still as before, but her clasped hands, her eyes upturned toward heaven. as -if looking fior aid, her riged form and closed lips, all be- tokened the emotions she felt. "My God, He is in danger-oh. gracious Heaven protect Him!" she murmured. "Woman-like, she saw only his dan- ger, thought -only of. his peril. Anotlher step, hasty and hurried, was heard, and 'aroused her to turn and- sne who again intrtuded upon her privacy. It was a female, a middle aged woman, dressed rather better than ser- vants usually are, yet from her dress E she seemed to stand in no higher ca- pacity- "Signorina, his lordship your father, wishes to see you, he bade me hasten ito seek you and call you to his pres- ence!" she said. "It is well, Guilletta," replied the lady, "I will join mny father immedi- ately. Is he in his cabinet?" "No, Signorina, he is in the hall of reception!" "Then he is not alone?" "No, lady, eh is in conference with a strarger-a priest I believe!" "Ah--so soon!. .Then indeed the dark hours have come'. Go, my good' girl, go, I will follow in a moment 1" The woman left her, and Constanza knelt down beside that mossy couch and bent her fair face forward upon her slmall white hands. If she prayed her voice was inaudible; but she arose. in a few moments more calm than be- fore and walked toward the palaoe. page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] CHAPTER II. A lonely dark hall, lined on every side with velvet of ebon blackness. A single lamp suspended near the upper end of the oblong room, serves to make the darkness visible. Upon the cur- tain, or velvet ceiling at the upper end, is a large white cross, in its centre A crimson heart. There is no seat or ta- ble visible in the room. The floor is made of solid blocks of marble. The atmosphere seems chill and damp, like that of a dungeon, a cavern or a tomb. A single. deep sound, the toll of a bell, is heard. The curtain at the up- per end of the room rises as if by magic, for your ear can detect no noise. It reveals a table an which seven lighted candles are placed. Behind that table are seated seven figures, habited in black-one is seated on a raised throne in the centre, the others are divided three on each side. All of them wear black masks, but you can see that liv- inig beings breathe beneath those masks' for apart from the pulsation which move their chests, their eyes gleam like fiery gems from out an ebon setting. Motionless and silent they sit. Again the deep tolling bell utters one note. Three men' appear from behind the seven, and advancing before the table, bend upon one knee, make the sign of the cross, then stand erect, but with bowed heads, as if they felt the presence of superiors. They too, are masked, but each is dressed in red, and their masks are horrible pictures of demoni- ac faces. At a sign from the Chief, of the Seven, they retire behind a curtain in the rear of the table. Again the deep-toned bell is heard to toll. The curtain at the lower end of the room rises, and a body of masked men robed in black, enter, and with a slow and heavy tread which solemnly echoes threughlthe room, they advance. In their centre, with his form erect and his eyes flashing, though his hands are bound, walks the youth whom we have known as ALLESSANDRO. The party advanced to the front of the table, and all except the prisoner knelt and made the same sign which was given by the others who had just retired. When they arose, the "Chief of the Seven," for as such I shall desig- nate the one 'who sat in the centre, spoke in a voice which seemed low, yet it thrilled every heart, and seemed to roll on clogged wheels of thunder through the room: "3 Allessandro Bettini, when thy su- periors bend the knee to us, why darest e thou stand erect?" "They are free, I am a prisoner!" f "Unbind him!" said the Chief. I It was done. "Now will you render us the homage which is due our Holy office?" asked the Chief. Allessandro did not kneel. '- Why do you hesitate?" and the Chief's voice seemed husky with anger as he spoke. I am not yet free--I heard iron doors barred behind me as I entered- am Surrounded by guards, I stand alone in the presence of my enemies!" "Enemies, wherefore know ye that we are your enemies?" " lFricnds never conceal thoughts or faces. I know where I am!" 'WHERE?" thundered each voice of the seven.. "In the Secret Council of the Seven; before the Grand 'Chief In- quisitor of the Church!" "And you do not tremble?" "And I do not tremble!" "Allessandro Bettini, behold that which shall make you tremble!" Again the bell tolled three times. The black curtain was raised and a horrible sight was that which it reveal- ed. The upper end of the room, be- yond the table of "The Seven," seem- ed like slaughter house. There was the dreaded rack, with human bodies stuck upon its jagged points, or strain- ed upon its wheel. Though life had departed from them, the victims with distorted visages, torn and bloody limbs were there. In one place, (oh, God what a mockery for Christians to perpetrate!) was the body of a man dead upon a cross. I. HL. S. was not written above his head, only the word HERETIC was there. In' another -part of the room a woman hung, her dress had been removed down as far as the waist. She hung by two cords which were 'astened only toher thumbs. Pullics had raised her clear off the floor. As she swung around, her back was exposed and the deep bleeding gashes of the scourge could be seen She too was dead! Her glazed eyes her snow white cheeks, her blue lips, her lacerated form was all that wasl left to show that life and beauty had existed in a HERETIC Upon the far back wall was a cross a terrible 'cross It was made of a dismembered human body. Above the head was still that dreadful word, "A HERETIC-" The Chief of the Seven, waited to see what effect this terrible sight had upon the prisoner. But it had none. Bettini did not move a muscle- -he did not stir, he neither paled or flushed at the fearful sight., The Chief bent his head and for 'a few moments conferred with his asso- ciates in whispers. Then he again ad- dressed the prisoner, "Allessandro , Bettini, the Holy Oftcie, desires not to be severe with you. We believe that by the be- witching influence of Constanza de Casali, you have been led astray from the path- of duty. Thou art young, wast reared in luxury, art not fitted to withstand temptation, and like our selves to endure the privations of pov- e rty, solitude and severe penance. i Confess that she led you astray, pro- mise hereafter to obey our rules rigid- ly, and we will pass by this thy first offence, for we do not believe thee to be willfully recreant to thy vows 1" "I have nothing to confess. If I have erred the error alone is mine, no one else is to blame!" "Son, thou art foolish-thou art trifling with that which to youth is pre- page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] cious; with thy life--onfess that she misled thee, even as the syrens of old drew mariners upon fatal rocks which wrecked themn ' Bettini made no reply. Again the Chief of the Seven bent down his head and conferred, with his associates in whispers. Their confer ence was long, even as if they were de- bating an important matter. Again the Chief addressed the prisoner. Allessandro Bettini, we have con: eluded to allot to you twelve hours for reflection. During that time, which you will pass fasting and in solitude, we hope that your- heart will incline you to return to your duty without further penance or punishment. If however, you still persist in your ob. stinacy, a terrible ordeal awaits you!' the novitiate did not speak. At a signal from the Chief the men who had brought him in conducted him from the apartment. Then noiselessly the curtains all descended and again the room was empty, dark and'cohilly as before. CHAPTER III. When Constanza de Casali, entered' the hall where her'father awaited her, the priest or rather the Jesuit Gener- al who had been speaking to the Count de Casali left it, Hereafter was evidently far past the meridian of life, for his hair was thin and white as the bleached moss descending from the dead limbs of the Southern cypress. His form though tall was bent. Ordinarily his face was pale, but now it was flushed and his look was angry when it fell upon the advanfcing form pf his dauglter. "You sent for me, dear father!" she said in a low sweet tone, looking so kind and lovely that it would seem im- possible to be angry with her.' "Yes, girl-yes," he replied huskily --"what is this I have heard 4 Who was with you in the garden just now?" "Two persons my father, one was the man who just left your side-he came as an intruder and a spy-the other was one as nobly born as we are, a warm-hearted brave young man who loves me and whom I love?" "Love! Tush fool's talk! Was lie not a priest-have you not seduced a priest from his duty and laid yourself, yes and our whole household liable to trial by the Inquisition and to terrible penalties?" "No, father-he has not taken the final vows and heo never zwill The \t circumstances of his education led hin to take the novitiate step in the Soci- ety of Jesus-he will go no further; more than that, he will recant the steps he has taken!" "Impious girl, he cannot, he dare not. You avow. your love for, him, that love will be his' destruction and thine, perhaps mine" "Why should you, who could have chosen from an hundred noble suiters. have dared to listen to that presumptu- ous boy. I know him well-it is Al- lessandro Bcttini, who was left an or- phan ward to the order of Jesus, by a pious father, who, at his dying hour en- trusted them with his welfare, both temporal and spiritual 1i "He is of age now, father, which re- quires no guardianship-he can judge for himself-act for himself!" "So cannot you-and if the Holy office, in its mercy passes. your offence by, I will see that you never meet him again, and more still, I will hasten to provide you a husband of my own choice!" "You cannot do that father, I am married to Allessandro Bettini now." "Married, girl? Are you mad?" "No, dear father, sane in' intellect and pure in heart. "We are married?" "What priest has dared to commit so terrible a sacrilege as to utter wedding vows to one of the Society of Jesus? "No priest, my father 'The same page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] GOD who wedded Eve to Adam, has lis- tened to the vows of Alles'sandro and thy daugfhter--vows which have linked their hearts and hands together. On bended knees, before our Maker, we have sworn fidelity till death; he is my husband, I am his wife. True, we have had no- mock dispensation from the Church-we have had no ceremony per- formedaccording to the laws made by mortals as weak and erring asourselves, but we are wedded by the laws of GOD. And when God unites, what man ao bold'as dare to disunite?" '"My child, my child, you have Arought your ruin and mine own!" "No, dear father, Allessandro and myself will leave Italy. You can be happy without me, I cannot be happy v without him!" "Child, you know not what you say. Ere this moment it is probable that your lover-husband I cannot call him, --is inr the hands of the FAMLIARS of the dreaded Inquisitibn, that mysteri- ous body which learns all secrets, fath- oms all hearts, punishes all recreants to the faith!" "The Inquisition?- Why do they not seize me? He is nbt' to blame-if he suffers, I too will share his fate. Why do they not sieze me?" Even as she spoke, as if they had listened to her words, three men in black dresses, each wearing a mask over his face, and the cross on the left breast,' advanced into the hall. They did not speak, but one of them motioned to her to go with them. "I know ye, and I am ready! con- duct me to his Aide and I Nwill show you how an Italian wife-can bear suffering. Lead on, I follow!" Haughtily she followed as they pass- ed' on. IIcHer father who had seemed stupified at first, now rushed after her: ' Stay, stay, my child, you cannot 'go. I will go to His Holiness and on my knees pray for his intercession, oh men, mnMt, bear her not away, she is my only child!" She heeded not his words-one of the masked men sternly said: "stand back, she is our prisoner!" The old man gave one moan of un- utterable anguish, and then sunk sense- less upon the marble floor. / CHAPTER IV. Again we stand in the -dark gloomy room, where before we saw Allessandro when he did not quail before the terrors of the Inquisition. Stand for a moment, reader, and imagine how terrible have the scenes therein enacted-hlear the groans of those whose limbs have been torn asunder-the moans of those who over slow fires have endured agonies more terrible than the cross-of those 'who oil the rack, have shrieked .and yelled in misery unutterable. But ' hark! you have no longer time to think of the past, for again you hear the deep, solemn toll of the warning bell. The curtain rises as before, and you see the SlV'I N, each as before, masked anid clothed in black; before each a lighted candle. They do not speak, like ebon statues they sit there silent and motionless. Another moment and the bell riings -again. The twelve allotted hours had elapsed -and as the bell struck, the prisoner Bcttini, with his guards around him, entered the apartment . unmanacled; with a firm step, he advanced and con- fronted Ilis judges. His cheek was pale as marble, aind withal as cold; but his lip did not quiver, nor had his eye lost its fire. "Allessandro .Bettini," said the i Chief of the Sevel, " has the Almighty in His mercy softened your heart within , the time we allowed you for reflection? Are you prepared to acknowledge that you have been seduced by, tho archfiend Constanza de Casali, from your duty, and art willing, forgetting her, to return to thy duty as a novitiate of the Iloly Order of Jesus?" "I am not changed-I am. not chang- ed!" said Allessandro. "Bethink thee, rash and impious youth. There is danger before thee!" "And I am ready to meet it. I do not fear death!" "You need not fear death, you may fear worse It is mercy when we liill: There is a suffering which does not de- stroy life, which is far, more terrible than that which takes it." "And yet I do not fear it '" said Bettini calmly. Again the bell tolled and the curtain in the rear arose. What a sight for ollne who loved, did Bcttini, there behold. Standing with the rude :hands of the fiendish executioners laid upon her white shoulders, herself as pale as a frozen lily, terror in her looks, was his lhecaven- wedded wife, his beloved Constanza. "Oh God, this is torture!" lie moaned--" do with nme what. you will, but release her " "Allesandro, Allesandro, oh save iace from these horrible men!" she shricked as she saw him, and she tried to rush toward him. But she was held back by the fienids who laid their hands upon her person. page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] He too strove to go to her, but his, guards- in an instant encircled him. The Chief of the Seven spoke not, ror did his associates. In silence they regarded the struggles and the suffer- ings of two young yearning hearts. Allessandro, when he found he could neither move them 'nor approach her who had become the-idol of his soul, chafed like an angered lion. But when he heard the deep, 'solemn voice of the Chief of the Seven, he listened. "Allessandro Bettini, he said, " you pretend to love that woman-if you would save her life and thine own, re- cant thine errors and live. Force us not to extremities. Beware! "Do; what you please with me, spare her! I alone am to blame!'? "No, not so, it is me who should be blamedl" she cried. "I loved him first, he discovered it and returned love' for love. Oh if there is blame, blame vtc the first'!" "No, let her go; I can endure you, scorn you! I defy your tortures; you cane1 draw no word of submission from my lips, nor can you make me feel your tortures!P' "We cannot'" asked the Chief, in a shrill, sarcastic tone, " we cannot? Let is see P" He gave a signal, and quick as thought one of the hideous attendants tore the'dress from the upper part of the form of poor Constanza, leaving her lovely neck and shoulders bare. Then taother with a knotted scourge of many thongs stepped forward. Bettini groaned in agony. "Oh God, ye heartless monsters!" he cried, " you will not touch her, the pure, the innocent! Oh spare her, for GOD'S SAKE spare her! "Recant your errors, acknowledge that she seduced you from your duty!" thundered the Chief. "Oh she did not, she did not,! spare her!" moaned the novitiate. The Chief gave a signal-the knotted scourge was raised, its cords whistled through the air and descended upon her fair shoulders, cuttiing long bloody lines and causing her to shriek and writhe in misery. "Oh, monsters! In the namne of Heaven forbear! Ye will'ldestroy'both. 'body and soul; ye will 'slay the unborn babe in her bosom-forbear, I will do or say what ever ye wish!" Again the bell tolled. and the curtain sunk, concealing the form of the poor girl from his eyes. Then he stood still and sobbed, for terrible had been his torture, more terrible than the rack to him. All, well do those fiends who ihave studied means of torture for cen- turies, know how to lacerate the human soul. God help those who this day languish and suffer in the dungeons and Inquisition Chambers of Rome, CHRIS- TIAN Rome. For a few moments the Seven confer- red together, then one of them, produc- ing writing, material, drew up a paper under the dictation of the Chief. Thle latter revised it carefully after it was finished, then laying it and a pen upon the table before him, said: "Allessandro Bettini, signs this and the harlot is safe; refuse and she shall perish before thine eyes!" The face of the novitiate flushed as he heard the odious term applied to her, but he advanced to sign the paper. "Had'st thou not better read before thiu signest thy name?" asked the Chief. "I care not what I sign, if it be my, own warrant, so that ye spare that poor broken-hearted girl, and send her back to her father's palace!" replied Bettini, writing. "Then," said the Chief, taking up the paper, " it is fitting that we inform you what you have signed. You have made over all your worldly property tp the Holy Society of Jesus, and conse ted to change your name, aud volunta- rily to redeem your errors by going as an humble missionary of our holy Church to the wilds of America. There that you may, apart from temptation, prosper and rise to high distinction in the Church, may the good Jesus grant. And now farewell my son, depart with I our blessing, our prayers. will rise to i heaven for thee!" t Allessandro spoke not. The bell t tolled--the curtain fell before the Seven and his guards removed him1 from the d room. The mockery was over. An- other CA1ITnOLIC victory had been ac- quired I "Y And go back reader, be you Protest. r ant or Catholic, go back over the rec- k ords of Church history, and show ye, , unto me any victory ever won by them, that was not recorded in blood. P Who broiled Guatomozin, the Aztcc I King, upon coals of .fire? JESUIT! B Who murdered Montezuma, the native Emperor of Mexico? JESUITS, with the cross in one hand and the sword in the other. Whe instigated, aye, and perpetrated the massacre of St. Barthomelews Eve? 'Jesuits. Who roused brother against brother in England and Ireland until their streams ran red with the blood of martyrs? Jesuits. Who drove the Pilgrims to our shores? Thank God, it was the Jesuits And who will say to those Jesuits, "thus far have ye come--ye shall come no 'further!" I pray God that it may be the American descendants of those Protestant Pil. grims. page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] EIAPT'?,R V. IT was a few hours later. The Coun ty de Casali was in his Cabinet. The head t] of the old man was bent down lithought, he looked years old than he ,did when s' we last saw him.. His hair seemed b whiter; his face more pale. -To and fio he paced, his limbs trembling as he h moved across the marble floor. Ever and anon deep sighs agitated his bosom. I At last he spoke: ' "Lost-lost; the last link which ] bound me to earth, my sweet Constan- t za t They have robbed me of thee. Long, long- have they drawn with greedy hands support frommy coffers, but now ' my blood is required! Constanza tlhey have taken thee, why do they not take 1 me.. I am like the dead oak which has 1 been clasped by the ivy of thy affection, now that they have torn thee down from me, why do they not in mercy. destroy me, the tower of their desolation? Con- stanza, oh Constanza, my child, where art thou?" "Here, my father, here!"' sobbed it voice. He turned-he groaned aloud i Was that his child who stood before him, pale as a deathly corpse, her ebon hair blanging dishevelled upon her shoulders, - lhr dress disordered, her eyes alone beaming with a maniac fire? It was. Sobbing she sunk upon her knees before him. "Child-poor Constanza, where have you been; what have they done to thee?" She shuddered, looked around, as if she dreaded that she had been followed, but did not reply. "Speak Constanza, tell me theworst." he cried, raising her to her feet. . "I cannot tell; they have bound me by a fearful oath not to tell what they have done to me, what I have seen. But they have sent him, my husband, to America'l Thither will I follow him, or die!" "My God, when will our troubles end? , "Only with death, my father. The bible says that there is peace and rest beyond the grave! Perhaps I can find peace and him beyorid the seas; or else peace and the grave beneath the: cool r and azure waters of the broad Atlantic! Father, go with me-go with your suf- f. ring child'to America. They say that there is Freedom there!" it "Child, we can get no passport. And how can there be freedom where the s dreaded' Secret order of' Jesus has a , foothold. Child I tremble while I ir name it! Freedom dies where they En, exist!" ' e "But Father, I have heard that it is s. a vast country where freemen dwell. I re know not whether he is King or Chief, but I have heard of a WASHINGTON re there, whom they decribe as Godlike; oh if once we were under his protection we would be safe!" "My child, there was a WASHING- TON, but he is DEAD'!" "Has he no sons, father, none to do as tlheir father did?" "Heaven only knows my child; we can learn nothing here; the spies of the Inquisition are. all around us. I know not what to do-what to say, would to God we were both at rest in the cold, but kindly arms ofi death!" "Hark-there are footsteps father; those dreadful men may have followed - me. Let us go!" and the abused, ter- 2 rifled girl, followed by her aged parent, fled fromn the room. At that very hour a carriage contain- ing four persons, left Rome on the road to the nearest seaport. One of those four was Allessandro Bettini ; the oth- er three were his guards. As he heard the creaking hinges of the massive gate when it closed hehind him, Allessandro murmured: "Farewell Rome-farewell Constan- za! Life is now a burden, the world a desert, and I a perishing pilgrim, wau- dering o'er its barren waste!" page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] CHAPT9R VI. THE NEW WORLD I Go back near- ly three hundred years and see the poor, but enterprising philosopher of Genoa, the humble mariner, bearing in his bosom the mighty thought founded on scientific research, that there was a "New World," a vast continent gilded by the golden rays of the setting sun, in the west. See him first over his rude charts, see him again applying foraid to the Courts of Europe, see him from this and that one turned away--at last the flush of hope brightens his countenance, for woman dear WOMAN, has listened his prayers and and Isabella has persuaded her regal Consort Ferdinand, to aid the adventurer. Observe him with a few death-daring, fame deserving men, venturing in frail crafts out upon an unknown sca--now full of hope, then almost lifeless in des- pair. At .last, when all their hopes seemed clouded-when the. memory of lost homes and loved ones far away, came strong upon them, when dutiful men resolved on mutiny, when 'brave men wept, then was hieard, like a trum- pet tone of triumph from heaven : "land -LAND!" and the NEW WORLD was discovered--Columbus gained a name! When he went back to Spain bearing the glad news of his glorious discovery, a man born as naked, as frail, and as li- able to death as the meanest peasant in the land, a man robed in scarlet, gra- ciously condescended to claim the New World as his own, and for due consid- erations permitted the King and Queen of Spain. to take possession of it under his name and power. - That man was the PorE OF ROME. And when tidings came to him of the gold and precious gems which aboundec in that new found world, lie sent there lis priests, not to "' preach the gospel without money and without price," t;ut to fill his coffers with theycllow ore aLnd the splarkling jcwels. It is true tlathic bade 'then convert the svages whllo hap- py and peaceful dwelt where the Lord, their God, hlad placed theml. ow did they convert' them?. Let the scaffolds, the poor Thouses, the prisons, whiich cov- er the land, reply. Look back only two hundred and sixty-one years, to the day when Columbus first landed, and re- , I ts, prisons and almshouses, were un- known here. None suffered for hunger, naked beggars did not wander homeless about. But a truce to moralising. Back to our Story. Have you ever been out in the grand : old woods of the far west. Standing upon a rocky, pine-crowned cliff; have you seen the mighty Mississippi, like a. vast glittering serpent, winding its way toward the ocean,' while far off in the rear the eye wandered over millions of acres of grass-clad praiiries, the homes of the buffalo, the antelope and the wild horse? Or in the deep shadows of old old woods so dense that the sun can scarcely cast its burning smiles upon the earth? Such places and scenes there are in the 'New World." 'Place where the voice of GOD is heard in the deafening roar of the cataract-where in the silence of the desert, plain Hls po)ryci and mall's weakness is felt. I will paint you a scene in the west where the clear and limpid waters of the river St. Francis rise in western I Missouri. The spring gushes out from the side of a lofty hill which is thickly furred over with cedars. Cool as ice i, idt clear as crystal i gushes from be- neath a cliff of dark. grey rocks, Id ti leaping over an hundred little precipe rcsts at the head of the valley below for a a moment, in a little natural' basin or lake which is sodded around with grass of alid flowers. Below, but a short dis- o tance, is the outlet of this little lake, cc and thence, again the silvery stream, in like a string of children let loose from b the school-room, rushes and leaps with shrill laughing murmers over a pebbly t bed, as it seeks a hiding place within the til som e of the Mississippi, .-nary t mile li away. The hills on either side form a lis ct'!seeOnt, withl broad plaills at their feet, pe shadowed, but not thickly, with the a; thick-limed water-oak. These plailln is on either side, of the lake, are. dotted itI with little patlches of corn, pumpkin vines but with their huge yellow baby-heads, are 'lld trailing about among, the c-i. o And scattered here and there, are an in hundred or more of the skin-covered ha lodges or wigwams of the Sioux indian t the ans. Their camp-fires send' up little s of spiral pillars of smoke in various pla- mes ces. Close down by the margin of the wild lake, where a beautiful canoe dug from old the trunk of a sycamore, is moored to a can stake, is a lodge covered with bark torn upon from the trunk of the bass-wood. In Ioes fronit upon the white side of a broad ace piece of bark, is painted in black, the the semblance of the cross. No other sign are ig there to distinguish it from the other [Ils temlporary places of abode of the wild ,lbofligitnc of the west. Let us look within. There is a rude, of table or altar there, imade from a rough rn hewn wooden slab, supported by four standards cut from saplings of the forest. Over that talic is an image of the Sav- ior extended upon the cross. Is it placed there to show savage the pprinciples of those who slew the Son of their God? In one corner is a pallet, formed of skins and furs, one soft enlough, to lull the wea- ry one to sleep. In another part a Store of dried im'ats are hung up, and below on shelves of bark, are dried fruits, 'and corn. And strange, for so wild a place, in another part of the dwelling, some books are shelved and a guitar is hung. As yet we have seen no one, but a step is heard and a man enters. Par- tially you may judge his nativity and his profession, from his complexion malld his dress. His face is that of an Euro- pean, but is very pale. His black hair hangs down in long matted locks upon his shoulder s. His dress, or a part of it, resembles the usual monastic garb; but upon his feet he wears' the moccasin and buck-skin leggings reach to his knees. A cap of fur, embroidered with feathers in a fanciful style, is worn upon his head. He does not look old, yet' there is no elasticity in his step, there is but page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] little brightness in his eye. Though he looks young in years, it seems from his expression that he has gained age in suffering. Readeir, it is but a little over two years since you saw Allessandro Betti- ni in Rome--do you now. recognise him as a Missionary in the West? Yes it is he I But he is not now Allessandro Bettini, the proud scion of one of Italia's noblest families. His name is changed. It is simply FATHER ALLEX- ANDEIU, for such is he known in his mis- sion. The Indians call him "Ca-wa-tc- no-gali," or the "Good Medicine." They fill his shelves with provisions and they love him, for he has been kind and gentle with them; has attended and cured their sick, and taught them many useful things. He came among them ' unheralded and unknown; at first they received him with distrust, but soon they learned to love and revere him. Learning their simple but expressive language, he soon was able to converse with them and to teach them news ideas of the power and. the goodness of the Great Spirit. They looked upon him as a wise,' good man, and felt that his; presence was a blessing upon ther tribe. When Allessandro entered his lodge, talking the cap from his head, he rever- entlyadvancedto the little table, and bending oie knee to the ground, mad@e the sign of the cross. Then he returned to the corner where his -books were de/: deposited, and sat down upon a rude block of wood which was coveredwith the skin of a deer. He took up a book, and, for some time seemed intently engaged upon its pages. Then he drew from his bosom a mirn. iature. It was in a golden case, and was accompanied by a tress- of ebon lhair.- need I say that the picture was the sem- blance of Constanza de Casali, or that the glossy hair had been taken from her peerless head? No. "Constanza!" he sighed, ." forever lost, but eternally 'dear. Here amid the salvages, here in the chill wilderness, I love thee all as fervently as when I ' clasped thy glowingform to my bosom." Reader, here I dropa curtain over the ' present. In the next chapter I shall bring you nearer home I CITAPTER, VII. TWENTY-EIGHT YEARS. 'Tisan im- portant lapse of the to folks who live first, or to those who are hereditarily short-lived. Yet from the date of our last chapter we must very kindly ask the reader to skip over full twenty eight years of time, and not at. present to ask any impertinent questions concerning the fate or the doings of our characters Let it suffice that twenty-eight years have elapsed. Visit with me, if you please, a very snug and beautiful mansion in West- chester County, which is situated inside of twenty-five miles from the mercantile metropolis of the Union, on or'near the Harlem Railroad. The mansion is built of stone, and stands in a lovely spot, on a slightly rising eminnence. It is surrounded by a i pretty, open lawn, which is dotted by a t few oaken 'trees. A-silvery spring I gushes from the bank near the house. I In the rear a well cultivated garden may be seen., Everything betokens taste, s and a taste which opulence alone only can carry out. r And, yet you see very few signs of c life, or life's enjoyment in the external ii appearance of that mansion. No chil- t ] dren gambolling about the lawn--- the very walls look cold and gloomy--only ai th e flowers look cheerful. w But within all is not so chill and d dreary. The house, after you llave in passed its cold, grey portals, looks like gr a- a lordy lmansion. Its furniture is rich ve alid costly, and genuine taste seems here ly to prevail. le Th arrangement of the house is very ie unlike that of .the lmansibn of the it wealthy, who ,p refcr residing in the k country wherc'the air is pure and whole- g somec, to dwelling in the noisolme atmos- s phcre of a great city. The style .of s architecture is original, built rather af- ter the mannrier of old time castles, with Y towers overlooking each anghle of the building. This house has many secrets which yet will be revealed in this story, but at present I eailV only introduce you into one apartment of it. Enter with me into a large room on the first floor, a room literally lined with cases filled with books, many of them ancient looking works, bound in parchment ald backed in manuscript hand instead of type. , Writing tables and materials are scattered hlere and there. But 'two persons are seated in the room. Thl. elder is a man rather in- clined to corpulency, whose age, judg- ing from his looks,. is nearer to sixty than fifty. His thin, short hair which was once red, is now a yellowish white, and it covers a round bullet head in wlhichl the sensual and .animal organs develope themselves far more than the intellectual. He has, however, a keen grey eye, expressing cunning in its every page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] glance. His complexion is exceedingly th ruddy, rather. indicating by its hue, that fai old Port, or prime cogniae, had a more cr intimate acquaintance with his lips than wI pure water. dr At the time of our introduction to this m venerable gentleman, he was "layiyrg g back7" in an old fashioned piadlcd and cushioned arm chair, with his, slippered tl feet resting upon a low hassack. sl Iis companion seemed to bo in the p very prime of life, though his black hair b was ming!qd with grey. He might be p fifty, he could 'not be more. His face Q was pale, intellectual, and noble, though p at times haughty and hateful expres- t sion would flit over it, as the shadow of a a passing cloud darkens the brightness of a sunlit landscape. In figure he was f ' tall, slender, but very erect-his entire c appearance that which would ensure ad- i miration from many and command respect fron all. Both of these persons were dressed in tlhe usual garb worn by the regular Jesuit priests in this country; viz, long black frock coats, closely buttonedup, to the throat, leaving the narrow lilnlen band -of the shirt in view at the throat and black panlt;loons. "I Father Alexander!" *said -the elder priest, with a1 strong milcsian accent, "I it's a thousalnd pities that I niver cain prevail upon ye to join nme in a nogginM o' punch, or a bottle of wine. It. always mtakes me feel .as if I tratcd you inhos- pitable and unbrotherly, to see you de- part without iver so -much as wettin' your lips, when you come out to visit our poor dwelling." "My health is better and my mind more clear without it, Father Burke!" replied the younger. ( I never enjoyed better health or clearer perceptions than when I was a missionary among-the far-off tribes of the. west, before the poor creatures had ever tasted or known what the "fire water" was, when my drink was from cool, gushing springs, my food the fruit of the forest and the game of the wilderness!" Ah, there it is, that we differ, Fa- ther Alexander-sure I'd starve to a skeleton on such fare. And as to the perception, thvre', otl;', on earth brighten's le up like a good bowl of punch. If I want to preach a sermon, or speak a lecture, I always take my punch before I set about it. And thin the ideas come hoppin' into my head as thick as fleas in a pig-pen'!" A smile lhalf appeared in the haughty s face of thelljunior priest, whether at the e oddity or at the aptness ,of the simile, - is more thanll I can say. But he -made 1 no reply and the other conltilued: "( And tltin to me .there's a difference "in actin' as well as in drinkin'. Afther r a good dinlner, when my stomach is full, g I feel good-humored mand kind to cvcry- , Dody--barring the curscd h crctics:, may n .the devil fry 'ei--and couldn't fi)r tho it life o' me lay a heavy penance oin alny ln0cmber of the fith-llno nmatther what r divilmncnt they'l been -up to. (Good t, ltin' and drinlkil' arc powerful assist- "1 ants to Christianity. And theln a goodl in pipe of totacco, ould an d well flavored, ys ,lslre, itslilke a pleasant opiate that lulls )s- a man to slape in anll carthy paradise. l- -Ah, Father Alexalder, it is much plea- . n'l surl e lmiss in this world!" sit " e'crhlaps Ishalll. gain the more in the next,"' rep)lied the other drily.- nid i 13ut let us to business. I have called ;!" as it is the d;yi for your report to our ed Grand Proyineial MaIster!" ns "Heaven bless his Eminence, it is prepared. I bade my Secretary do that same yisterday." "And the Grand Provincial Master bade me say," continued the junior, "that he did not like the last report.- That you must either use more exertion to increase the Treasury of the Sacred Order, or be more sparing of its reve- 1llies!" "Thte Lord Jesus bless his Emilnence, Sarey lto luuat not ttltink th,}lt, ;'m 1 e,- travagant! Every dollar I've spent' ha.- been fortile glory of God' the good of the church!" "What, your large wine and butch- er's bill?" "Certainly, Father Alexander. You see I've got a good miany young men under my charge, brought up in wealth and luxury. Now, were I to starve them and keep a wee drop o'wine now ; and then from their lips, they'd be af- tlher talinl' a mislike to the Institution, thin we'd lose a hold on their souls and the ehalnlccse of property from them be- sides. Our Inlistrultio(ns' justify me in I that. And be so kind as to tell hs Em inence, that he'll see by my presilt 1r- port, af'tilr lie hLs read the 'samie, if not before, that my rcremie has increased three thousand dollars this month, over the last. And besides, there's all oultl widow who was born a catholic, but was married to a bloody heretic, that I've wakened up to a sense of her danger. t She lives close by and has only got two boys, wild slalpeenll they are, to stand between her property and the church. I'm pretty sure that-I can persuade the of old lady, who is pretty near the last I gasp, to leave all her property to us. I tried to git hould of her boys, but the divils belong to some of these bloody ov heretic societies, and they hate us worse cli Iat than the Ould Scratch hates holy water. So all I can do is to keep the ould wo- ter nian Iindful of the value of her soul or, and get the best price frolm her for sav- - i' the same that I c(an. lut I'm for- On gittin' all thl ti t, that you are waitin' Mcd for the report!" e- Father Burke reached to a table by his side, and rlng a small bell upon 'e it. A moment after, one of the book- al cases which reached from the ceiling to ltt the floor, in the baclk part of the room, turnted noiselessly, as if on a pivot, and 1- revealed a snall iner apartnment'to which it was the door. From this roomlil '1 a young man:, dressed in a Novitiate's 'll ;own, 1:made his appearance. l - Bring me .the report to his Emi- '(, IIncce, the Glrand Provincial Mast:er P! ' v said Fatlher Burke. % Witlout fpeaking, the Noviciate obeyed, and thhen retired as noiselessly ias he came, and the secret door closed behind him. Tlhe vmatter did not sur- pi'ise Father Alexanlder, lie probably knew all of the secrets of the house. [e arose, Uipon receiving tie document, Mtich he carefully p)laced in anL inside breast pocket of his coat, to leave. '"Sure,.you'll stay to (dinner with us, Fatlter Alexander," ,said Father Burke, 'i I dine all alone with myself to day, and, its only a sorry dinner I can ask ye too, ollly some friesh trout from the Bronx, fine fat, pound arnd a half, ycl- IOw-bellied fellows, and a nice capon, a duck, a leg of mutton, and. a good round of beef as ever ye let a knife into-but I'didn't think of company or I'd been better prepared. Again that cold, haughty smile came over the face offthe other priest, as be de- clined participating in the "slight re-' page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] past" prepared for one, and excusing him- self, departed. After leaving the house he walked leisurely and thoughtfully across the lawn toward the neighboring railroad depot, occasionally giving vent to his thoughts in low ejaculation. "That Burke is useful,' but' danger, ous 1" he muttered. "He is. popular because he is free, liberal and easy with all who meet him, and his popularity is necessary to us. And he is cunning, even when lively with his wine. I be- lieve he speaks truth when he says that wine quickens his perceptions. But he must be watched, and closely watched. If, as I hope, I ever become the Grand Provincial, I will read him a lesson that he'll not forget easily. He .cares more for his stonacch than for the good of the order. Were he not so useful he should be removed from his rectorship and taught the benefits of penance by fast- ing and mortification of the body l" While making these remarks the priest had been nearing the depot, and hearing the whistle of an approaching "down train" he hastened his- pace, ar- riving just in time to get a seat in the cars bound for,,the city. CHAPTER VIII. IN, a large and very elegant 'brick imallsion which stands in the centre of a beautifully laid out and tree shadowed plat in the District of Columbia, our next scene is laid. In a large, eleatly furtinished front parlor, several ladies are seated, all of thoem dressed neatly, but in black. Wiith one exceptionj thy -ae engaged in working upon embroidery. The excep. tion is the most elderly lady in thle room,1, one whose hair combed back smooth under the front of a cap of book muslin, is beginnin'g to -be silvered liy tihe hand of time. Srhe has a fine, intcl- Icctual, anlld very expressive face, wear- i ing a kind look, yet it is expressive of a 1 will to exercisec authority. She sits 1 rather apart from the otier's, and is en- J gaged in reading a book. The workers sew on in silence,. keep- c ing t heir eyes on their work, but she occasionally I raises her eyes fi'ro her d book and glances around her. The only ornament that any of those present e: wear, is a small golden cross, suspend- ed by a braid: of black silk from their n necks. Thie ladies are all very beauti- E fil.. They do not look wan and worn, S pale .and emnacialted by long, vigils and gl fastingu, as the "Sisters of Charity" do, who1m. you meet sometimes in th istreets. pi T heir ceieks are rosy with health, their he forms seem full and elastic with vigor. Another, habited like the rest, enters th ck the room f and aprroaches the lady who ' a is reading, ed Madam, a Father of the Order ur sends up his card and asks to be admit- ted to your presence!" said she. nt The lady glanced at the card and of then said: h "Ah, it is the Father Alexander, n celebrated for his learning and his pie- ty-I have heard much of him, but e have never seen him in shew him hither k at once." k The other ladies had raised their y heads at the entrance of the messenger, - and were listening to her words, but at - a glance-from the elder lady they cast L their eyes down to their work again, inor did they raise them when the Jesuit Priest was announced. He entered, bowing with a grace more courtly than priestly, said: "I believe I have the honor to ad- dress the sister Geraldbine i!" " I am that person, Reverend Fath- er!" said the I lv risiin. "I have the honor to bear a commu- nication of ayivae nature, from his Eminence the Grand Provincial to the Sister Geraldine!" continued the priest glancing at the attendants.- "Sister's, an hours recreation in the pleasure ground would benefit your health!" said the elderly lady. Without a' word being spoken by them, each lady laid down her work, page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] and with noiseless steps, like, a band of the fairies in mourning they vanished from an the apartment. After they had left the priest took a ou letter from his pocket and presenting it, said a "The Sister Geraldine, will here ob- serve my credentials, in this letter of \\N introduction-my message. is verbal!" cll "The fame of the father Alexander of' had so fair preceded him, that he scarce-' te ly needed an introduction here!" said w' the lady. "I am ready to l]amr nlld ,jc obey the behests of his Eminence but iS may I not order some refreshments for w yourself, previously . ." a No, I thank you-for time presses'. 1 It behooves the members of our sacred order to move constantly, for there is a e l'kwing opposition to us, which must be c( stemmed and counteracted upon, or we II are ruined, which God forbid! lBut to rt the business. 11 is Elminence requires the services of two lay sisters, and we c have none in New York fully qualified t to fill the situations he wishes.'t What are the qualifications required Father?" I will describe .the situations, Sister i Geraldine, and then you can. judge for yourself. There is every ealty andll I aristocratic family in our city, the father of which is a Protestant, t vaill, daugh- t arrogant man, who cares little for re- ligion of any kind, but is a bigotted ha- ter of us good Catholics! Oh, the impious heretic!" rmd the good Sister Geraldine crossed herself as she spoke. His wife," continued the priest who holds the most of the property i her own right, and whom he * married' for her immense wealth, has become a convert to our Faith,-though it is for the present kept a secret from him. I am her confessor. She has three daugh- ters, all of whom I have baptized into our' Holy Church.- He is anxious to have his children educated at home, so as not to become contafmilated with people that he don't know, as he says. We are Clually' anxious ,to have the children educated under the care of one of our Order; but we have a still grea- ter object. The wife is a weak-minded woman, he neglects her, therefore she is jealous. W G ,ihS to get, a Sister', who is very beautifiul and accomplishedl , and who is well skilled in thie art of rTeading and usingl I ll a hulI earts,to cunningly work up a quarrel and a seperation between them, for then we can get her and her children, and conselquently the property eoniliDltely within our sway. It will be neceessry for her to conceal her religion from him, while it will be ;nlow, t, t the wife, whom I have completely under ad- visement and surveillance. We'have three servants in the lous-eoludll." Tho Sister seemed to think for a few moments, then said : "Sister G-cnit,. is very beautiful, and r is the most accomplished in the house. But she is proud and senisitive--too proud, I often tell her, for a good Cath- olic. If she undertook the mission willingly, she could fufill your every wish!" "She is under you authority, is she II ot, o ) "i Yes, Father, but she is very self- is willed, ald. will do that with a . bad 1racO which she dislikes. She ihas been stso beautiful' and so proficient that wt in have humored her over much!" ed, "Does she know that she is beauti- a ful?" or ' Alas, Father, for our' weakness, what woman is there inhereting the gift that does not. She knows it and ex- ults in it. Shel moves more like a Queen amlong us than a simple lay Sis- ' ter!" ' "Wel, it matters not, I think I can, by gentle adlmonitions, guide her into the pa tlI of usfidulness-she dare not break her oatht. I will now describe theotlher situltion. It is as, a Govern- ess and complanion to a ypung lady, whlose mother is dead, and wlose educta- tion cotltlencll .ed by her han bcen necctc- ted., ler fatlher, wlho has risen to '.wealth and stading from the lowest rankls of the people, by industry 'and frugality, is one of our bitterest oppo- nents-le is a p)owerfil speaker and Writer, anld ap:ant friom tlils mallia seils C 'to have ollly oIe object IOwhch occupies hishIart. He almost worships his only daughtce. One of .ts, whoIm A. suplp)(). es to be a -friCe1d, and wlio has much in- 'a fluence w:ith him, 1ias promised to findl him a suitable peron to eduedate his daughter, and l'is Eimilnee wished meLl to select one from your circle. ' SIhe need not be beau'tiful, but she oc must be pleisaint, winningi, shrewd, and' II talented. And f6r the tiime she must assumle to be a pr6testCant', and conduct t her devotions so privately tlhat none may eveIn susp ect her. I klnow tlLat CM you - can finld su(ch an 'one, in f;ct we ca could have found one at homne, but fear- to ed disovery if we got one so near.1!" ' s, w.'athler, we can easily supply (dr. the last, if I fully understanld your aim. th( ift It is to win by slow degrees the affec- s- tions'of the daughter to our side-.to a lead her mind, by inmperceptible degrees, s- to our way of thinkinjg!" "Yes, and through her and the fami- , ly associations to keep constantly in- to fbrmed of his movements, his intentions and tliose of his party!" "' understand, Father; shall I send - for the Sister's and let you, converse ' with them, that you may judge for your- self of their qualities!" "Nay, Sister Geraldine, that is scarcely necessary, since you a c- qualilted with my wishes, or rather the: wishes of His Eminence! I will retire to my hotel and change my cleri- cal attire to one ore lh fshiolllble and less attractive of notice, and leave you to convey our wishles to the Sister's and to prepare them for their mission and their journey!" "As you please, reverend Father, but will you not partake of some refresh. ments prior to retiring?" "Excuse me, kind Sister, I have no occasion. Farewell for the 'tilme-, Heaven's blessings reimain with them!" "Amen!" said Sister Geraldinllc, dc- vountly crossing herself. Have the Sister's ready for the evnening trlainl. I will be here with a carriage to escort them. Advise them to dress plainly, but not en reliTeus, ' and to be closely veiled. They can ad-' dress me as Father-no more ! added the priest, as he departed' page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] CHAPiTER IX. , AT the nTi;: tcdtl ur rl' ater Alxe- \ in lclder rct trilid to tlhe' louse of tihe S s- tilt ter Geraldiec, to rcltive the two lay til Si sters who were alluded'to in the last 'cllapter. Hi..i ;apel,:ral:(c e was very muchl ailtered by hiS clhainge of apiparel.-- \N' Dressed i a p)lain tl iut fiashionablle suit s' of rich ln:lterial, with a tasteful arrange- 1e mllt of jeSellry, no one would have ta- hl ken him for a priest . He rather looked i like a wealthy man of intellect, used to a( society, and to a station that commanded tr respect. His gait and demeanor were 1 graceful and'l easy, as if from childliood b up he had been used to Courts and to 1 the world, instead of having been bred e a priest, amid musty voluiles, used to v penance and prayer. I] It was'with an admiring glance that J the Sister Geraldine looked upon 'him, as he entered, for thl. good Sister had ii worldly feelings left in her bosom, des- pitceher spiritual life. And what wo- v man has not. Pon't tell me that a ; cloister or convent elli 'call shut out Ncature fromn the hea rt of- a woman;, if it does it ought te be torn down. At best, Such places are but prisons for the 'innocent, and ought not to be allowed to exist in a land so free and enlightened as America. At the request of the Fatlher Alexan- der, the Sister Geraldine - sent for the two lay Sisters who were to accompany himn to New York. They entered. Both were dressed ,. , in neat traveling dresses, were veiled so that their faces could not easily be dis- tinguished, but in the tall, magnificent figure of one, full in the bust, but slender and lithe as a poplar wand in the waist-the Father at once knew the per- son whom the Sister Geraldine had cal- led Genita. She bowed low and grace- fully as she entered, and as she spoke in salutation, her voice was soft, sweet, and mellow, like the low breathings. of the flute. Her walk was queenly, yet her step was so light that it could not be heard above the rustling of her 'dress. Her companion, whose form was not so elegant, nor her carriage so graceful, was dressed and veiled in the same' manner. - She was introduced to the Priest as the Sister Mary. "Sisters," he said, after he had been I introduced to them, "You will simply - call me father, in presence of strangers - while we are travelling. I shall address , you by your names and speak as if you t were my daughters. I have reasons if for this, for duty will throw you into t society where you may meet some with e whom we may travel whom we may not ;o wish to know what society we are in d the, service of Deception, when used for the benefit of our Holy Church and - for the advancement of our sacred order is no sin-it is rather a virtue which in due season will be fittingly re- warded. Is your baggage packed and cd ready )" "All is ready," said the Sister Ger- aldine, replying for them--" Our por- ter will convey their baggage to the depot. But will not Father Alexander take a glass of wine. before he departs '?" "Nothing, tronger than pure water ever. passes my lips!" replied the Priest, I and we must hasten- our de-n - parture, for it is nearly the hour for the ca rs to start. Bidding the Sisters Geraldine an -affectionate adieu. the two ladies en- tered the carriage witlh their escort and iwere driven rapidly to- the Railroad !depot. page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] CIIAPTER X. A nrew scene and new characters r reader, first I will show you the house f of Mr. Mortimer Bennett, thenu I will introduce you to him and his-family and 1 perhaps let you into some of the family c secrets, provided you promise not to 1 tell! The house of Mr. B. is one of the i fashionable' modern built dwellings, 1 the like of which with a' carriage house : in the rear and a little flower garden in i front, can here be seen, anwyhere in the vicinity of Union Square and other portions of upper-tendom in our city. It is large and the ornaments profusely displayed in front, as well as sevral fine statues in the yard, give token of the wealth and taste of the owner. Inside the display of costly: furni- ture both useful and ornamental indi- cates even more fully that wealth has been lavished with no sparing hand in both ornamenting the premises aned ren- dering the occupants comfortable. And now let me introduce you to those occupaints. First we will call upon Mr. Mortimer Bennett.' lc is in his library, in his dressing gown and slippers. -He sits in an easy chair, with. his feet on a table, with a book. in his hand, smoking a cigar very lazily. He is a middle aged man, fairly in the prime of life, ofrather ruddy complex- ion, the red deepening as it approaches the extreme end of his nasal protube- ranle, and a tendency to obesity of form, as well as a ratlher sensual ex- pression of countenance indicates that he not only knows what thhegood things of life arc, but availes Ihimself of that knowledgc to enlljoy them. His counte- 1nance is not intollectual, yet he has an intelligent,busiuess sort of look. tlhough his attitude is a lazy oIne. He seems as if he was able and willing to tak e tle world easy, but you can perceive that he has passions, whichl if dormanl t now could be aroused and' wlhen aroused would make a very different man of We will leave him ellgaged over' a book, which-by the way is one of Lever's Peillsul1ar Talcs of the O'I1alley School, and visit Mrs. Mortimer Ben inctt. Slhe is in her sitting room, sur- rounded by her three daughters and, tlhe nurse. There is very little difference be- tween Bedlam and a nursery--it is like tle, weather off Cape Ilatteras, always sgually. \ Mrs. Mortimer Bcnnett is a tall slender, pale-faiced, sharp-uosed lady, with a care-worn countenalice, or rather I withl a countenance indicative of a dis- position never to bo s'atisfied. If she ecould look pleased and smiling, she - would pass as good-looking, for she has s a large dark blue eye, file'teceth: and, - wiAth'the exception of ai pick-axe nose, ' ^ very good features. Her dress is rich but it is not tasty, her dress-mdlake r having flounced and furbelowed it off in a style rather too I fancy' for true gentility; Her oldest daughter is about" ten years of' age--named Kate. She is a vixenish tliling, rathler resembling her mohller, in looks. ' Tl next, Amlia:, is a fgentloe and winning child of eibhlt years-bult the J ryoungest, a little' fnlaxe haired cliherub of three years, named Annie, is tlthe flower of the flock. Her large blfue eyes (dl:ne in a sea of halpi- ness, her voice; like the chirrup of thce. robin inl 3ay, rills clear ;and joyous on the car. At the the wlich we select for illtrO- ducinl the reader to this fillily grouI, Kate, the eldCst child, was engageld ill teasing little Annie, by witlhholling doll which sihe la s ne atched friom her. Amelia was pleadilg, with her to give it t back, whtile Athe was crying for it 1and tryingl to cliub upon her sisters' chair ' to reach it. " Chillrenll- cildren o mnake less noise-y(,u11 istract e!" crie d . p, BiennIctt. \ "i lamlma, sissy Ite's got Inly doliy ,-do mll e her give me nly dolly!" cried dr the little olle. iKate, giLe your sister her doll, and to do go to your studies.! I wish your new an g ovecrl(.ss wlas hle--I'--17 tired to deatlh el of this racklet !" cried Mrs. B. U "Tllhe new governess!" said. Kate l ,Spitefully. "I expect .she'll be oln wa ross, urly ^ old t i,'" , tnd I'll hate helr. If I Io , I o1t learn, n or I wolln't try s either. IT plague 1her to death, so, I' W will! I'don't see w hyi must ha e a governess- I don't wan't to study I ' want to g o to dancing school." B c * in t ich A servant entered and announced ker that Miss Genita Morland was waiting off to see Mrs. Bennett. uoC 'i"Ask her in, I expct it is the new governess i" said MrIs. B. tCln Yes, send thce hateful old thing in!' s a said Kate spitefully. hlor 1But her look cllhanged when the visi. is ter entered and Overl Mrs B. looked hlt surp)rised, for a more' beatitiful, lovea- b'll ble creature never trod upon God's "d footstool. [e' She was quite tall, but her figure Pi- was exquisitely plroportioled.' Tlough hlc full maid voluptuous, it seemned airy and on grraceful. II-cr features were faultless- ly peifcct, as if clhiseled by the hand - if an artist endowed with supernatural PI, power lanld filled, with a love for tlhe i11 beaitifll: Her eves were largo, liquid anld brilliant as dew and blaclk as jet. -' Long silken la hcs drooped down upon it the transparent skin beneanti. Her id ycy brows 'were arched and delicate-- lr her brow as white as marble, her llecks of a rich, glowing, ruddy bru- s nette hue. He-er red ripe lips slightly 3' parted when blhe smiled, revealing teeth as white' and slmoath as pearls Her r massy hair, black as her eyes, was I dressed in Grecian style. Her apparel was neatly made and exquisitely fitted to lher beautiful fiure, but it was plain and nIot rich. lThe only article of jew- ellry which she wore Was a small, curi. ously shaped locket, on the outside of wich was an old-fashioned crest. This was suspended around her neck, Her look and manner, as with a sweet smile she bowed to Mrs. Bennctt was exceedingly winning. Handirg the lady a letter, she said : "If, as I presume, I address Mrs. Bennett, this note will suffice for my introduction I1' page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] Mrs. B., toolr the note, glanced over aT it, and with art air that rather implied a] that she felt thlat she was condescend- ir ing, said : h "Ah, it is the Governess. I am glad tl to see you; Miss blorland; my con- o fces--that is, I mzcari Mr. Alexander- C has spoken very highly of you. I w doubt not that we shall be good friends, very good friends, as you belong to the a faith, but that must be kept between us. We can trust the izurse, she is a y good Catholic, but my husband is a ter- g rible heretic. .ITe does not know even c that our poor dcear children have been n baptised into, the Hioly Church. We h must be very carefil.' You'll find the children very troublesomle!" S "No she won't--she's good and pretty!' said Kate whlo lad overheardl her last remarks. '; We'll love her, 1 won't we Annie?" "Yes, if she loves imy dolly!" said 1 the little one. Amelia said nothing, but when the stranger to;k a scalt sle went up to 1her and taking he!r hlland btwen lher own little dilmpled fingers, looked up into hler face with a pleased anld conflding smiile. "( My husband is in tlme library," said Mrs. Bennett, after hlaving a second time read the note which Genlita- hand- ed to her. " t will. introduce you to him, I have no doubt that hle will be perfectly satisfied to makle arrange- mlents to employ you; He is a good , easy sort of a man--it is a pity that lie is a hcrciic! Colme with 1me, he is in his library!" When Genita was first introduced to Mr. B. by MrIr. B ennett, as the new governess, lie hardly raised his eyes from his book, but whenlc he did, and observed her great beauty, lie laid his book aside and rose from his seat, at the same tmno apologizing for his inattention, obserw ing that he was completely absorbed in his book. By his looks, it would seem that the new book of beauty, just spread open before hiill, was imore likelv to athsorb his attention than the tvolume which he ihad hastily laid aside. "Slall I engage Miss Morland'?" asked Mrs. Bennett. "CertaiZnly,-or, that is, if she suits you, my dear!" said Mr. . . rather ea- gerly. "I leave the care of our dear children to you, my love P" lhe added, not taking his ceyes from Gcnita while lie spole. "The terms -Mr. .B. what sLall I say?" "Arrange tlhem as you pleiase but be liberal imy dear, our children are untutored and will be very trouble- sonlp! I hope Miss --- Ifogetyour name Miss!" '"Iorland, Gernits 2for/lalnd, Sir!"' replied the young lady, blushing bc- neatli lhis carnest gtaze. "I hope vou will be able to manage them, Miss Genitta,'" he continued. 'Tlley have been very muchl spoiled!" "I hlave no fear on tlhat account sir. I thillk that I c:in llmake them love me dearly!" she replied. "' It would be a wonder if tley did "not!" lie replied in a tone which like his looks efvinced alldmiration. iMrs. 1. did not notice this however ;land with the now installed governess returned. to the sitting room. 13 By Jove, that girl is a superb crea.. turec--too pretty for a governess!" said . o Bennett after they left. She has a v firmu like a ,Venus and the eye of, a n Julno. I never saw a more beautiful il creature. She looks as difi'erent from 1e Mrs. Mortimer Bennett as a full blown * , rose does from a potatoe top, -or a daliah from a -wild daisy. She is enough to warm up the icy heart of a hermit! . Yes, I'm willing my wife should employ such a governess-If I can ao no more I can at leat look at 3 her glorious beauty. I think I shall be a very affectiondte father and visit the nursery often now. I beginalready to feel a deep, interest in tne education of my children 1' page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] CHAITER XI. Another character, or rather, two of them. Reader let me introduce you to Mr. Samuel Carroll. He is a man about fifty years of age, with a pale thoughtful and rather care-worn coun- tenance. lHe looks like a manof great energy, has a quick restless way about him. He is slender in figure, dresses very plainly and without regard to fashion. Mr. Carroll is the wid- ower whom Father Alexander men- tioned to Sister Geraldine as being a deadly opponent to the order of Jesuits and as having a young and dearly loved daughter whom he wished to have educated at home and for whom through the officiousness of a pretended friend who was in reality a secret member and a spy of the Jesuits, a companion and teacher was to be supplied from. the ranks of the order. The daughter, Eliza Jane Carroll, was just fifteen, an age between girl- hood and womarihood more critical than any other in the' life of a female-an age when tihey scarcely know what they arc, when character takes its first for- mation, when they can be made or ruined by a word or a step-an age when all. depends upon parental advice and care and true friendship. Eliza Jane was rather pretty. She was a smart, quick-witted girl, pure as a lily, for she had never been thrown in contact with the world. Her father had also been very cautious, since her mother's death, only to place such books within her reach as in his judge- ment were calculated to improve her mind, without giving her an idea of the vicousness and darknecs of the outside world. In fact her mind was like t sheet of white paper, ready for impres. sions, and such impressions only as the par ental hand chose to trace thereupon. Mr. Carroll had been very explicit in his instructions to the friend who volun- teered to find a companion for his daugh- ter, and, he looked with anxiety for the r'eality which was to fill the place of the ideal which he had'wished for. Ho was seated in his parlor convers- ing with Eliza Jane, at about the same hour of the occurrence of the incidents described in our last chapter, when Miss Mary Munson was announced baj serv ant. "Ah," said Mr. Carroll," that is the name of the young lady thalt Mr. Clark- was to send to me to cngn as a com- panion and teacher for you, if you like her Eliza Jane!" "I shall like her if she pleases you,. dear father!" said the young lhady. A moment after, and the Sister Mary entered'the room. She was a ki;nld, sweet-looking girl of two and twenty years, or thereabouts, not very hand- some,but decidedly good-looking. She had an intelligent, cheerful, tidy look which at once rather prepossessed both father and daughter in her favor. She also brought a letter of intro- duction, which Mr. Carroll opened after handing her a seat. He read it with apparent pleasure and attention, and af- ter folding it up again, addressed her: "You are very young for a teacher, but I presume your education has been thorough?" ' "I have studied very hard, Sir P" she replied. "What on you. t,Vh my daugh- ter?" "All of the useful English branches, also music, Italian, Spanish,' French and Latin " ' "Music and the English branches will do!" he replied; "but I care noth- ing for your foreign lingoes. My daughter is an American!" "If she should ever travel, sir, a knowledge of thel modern languages might be useful!" said Mary, timidly. "Yes, if she should travel. But that is not likely. She is the daugh,- ter of a mechanic--it is my wish and hope that she shonuld marry a mechanic, and mechanic's 'wives need a useful. rather than ornamental education. I am fond of music, and I hope you will bestow great care upon that portion of her education. You of course per- Tform?" "Yes sir, on the piano, organ, guitar, and harp,!" "And you are well acquainted with history, especially with American histo- ry?" . "I have read historical work s very attentively, 'Sir i" "And Bible history--I lhope you have not-neglected', thatr--for the Bible and its truth is the foundation of hu- man virtue and of national liberty.- While the Bible is a school-book, while it is read in our families, and studied rby our legislators, our liberties are safe. When it is discarded, then this republic will tremble to its very base!" "Ah, sir, a republic so great, so pow- erful, founded too by such wise and good men, as Washington, Adams, and Jefferson, never can fall. It is like an impregnable fortress ,!" "True, but fortresses which are im- pregnable from outward attack, can be betrayed by traitors within. Of such we must beware. But excuse me, you women don't study or understand poli tics-it is better that you do not. My daughter you will find to be gentle, trac- table and very willing to learn. She is very affectionat e in her nature, and you can easily mould her to your wishes.- You coime to me very highlly commnen- ded, therefore, placing full and illicit confidence in you, I leave her studies to your choice and judgment. Do not weary her-but exercise her minld so far as in your judgment shc will be benefit- ted. Your salary sliall be as liberal as you desire!" "Sir, you are very kind-I will en- deavor to realize your wishes, especially if Miss Eliza Jane will assist me by a compliancc with my desires!"' " I will do all. I can to please my dear father, and to please you too!" said the young lady, "I know we shall be good friends." "Certainly you will, my chld!- Kiss me and I will leave you with Miss MTIuns0n-I lave to meet a committee very soon, down town " , And thlus Miss Mary Munson, a Jes- uit lay. Sister, was installed into a Protestant family as a Protestant gov- page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] erness. That was all right, for decep- tion is a virtue if practiced for the ad- vancement of the Church. So is a murder. theft' perjury. L. American reader, beware lest a Jes uit spy has been shoved surreptiously into your family. Be ever on the alert, our enemies never sleep. CHAPTER XII. The father Alexander was pacing to and fro in his own elegant apartments in Houston st., east of Broadway, and 'his appearance indicated excitement. Mis face was flushed, and his steps were hasty, and ever and anon his thoughts broke out in words from his lips, words not spoken to be made pub- -lie, uttered to himself, yet rather too audible to pass unheard, had any. one else been, in the room. But he was alone. In his hand he held the same miniature which he had possessed when in the western wilderness, the portrait of his first and only love, whom for years he had mourned as lost and bu- ried. And as he looked upon. it, he muttered to himself: "How like it is to Sister Genita.- She is perhaps more beautiful, yet those large, soft black eyes; those features, the long, dark, wavy hair, the form ex- quisitely perfect, and her voice too, so low, yet full of music, all serve to carry nme back on I iemory's wings to Italia, dear Italia, to the few hours when .I was blessed and happy. 'But Genita says she is not an Italian, that so far as she can learn she was born in A/merica. Slle knows no father or mother,- she has been under the care of our Order, ever since she can remember. And she will be a useful member. Gifted with every talent, accomplished in all, and supernaturally beautiful, she can never fail in winning love and admiration , wherever she goes. But howlikeshe is to what Constanza, poor Constanza was!" Again the Jesuit father passionately gazed upon the miniature which he held in his hand, and kissed it fervently. A step was heard approaching, a hand was laid upon the door latch, and hastily he thrust the precious memento into his bosom, and turned to see who intruded. A servant, dressed in plain black, entered and handed him a note. He glanced at it, and motioned for the ser- vant to retire. He opened the note, read it and then cast it into the fire. "The Superior General wants to sec me!" he mutttered, "well I must at- tend!" After arranging his 'dress for the street, he went forth, and after walking up to Broadway, waited for an Onlmi- bus down. Several passed, but they were crowded, and as no carriage was near, the .IoJ y Father with a rough ex- pression and a ruffled visage, walked down. Just as he passed Grand-street corner, he was addressed by an old, sickly looking Italian woman, who, in her native language' solicited alts.- There was nothing very different in her garb or look from the others of hun- dreds of her class, who iafest this city, but in her timid, tremulous tone, there was a something 'which startled him from the' revery 'in which for the last block or two lie liad been indulging.- page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] He paused and glanced at. her, then taking a piece of silver from his pocket; placed'it'in her open hand. He again looked at her earnestly, then without, speaking to her, passed on. "It is strange," he muttered, "' that, to-day everything I see or hear, reminds me of my poor Constanza! Did I not know that she had sunk sorrow-stricken and broken-hearted to the grave, I: should look upon these things as omin- ous! The priest made no further com- ments, nor was he in any way interrup- ted until he reached the steps of a dwelling house in Barclady street near Broadway, the bell of which he rung. A servant opened the door, and rea- ognized him, bowed reverentially and admitted him without a word. The Priest passed on through the hall until he calne to a door on his left. at which he knocked, and wherein he was at once bade to tntcr. The room was fitted up as a library. Many book-cases stood around in dif' ferent parts, engravings- of mlaps of every country on the globe, were hung against the walls, Many of these naps were dotted over with sumall black crosses, indinating at a glance the portion of territory under Catholic sway. The apartment was plainly furnished, but materials for writing, and boollks. pamphlets, and newspapers were scat- tered about profusely over several tables and desks: When Father Alexander entered there was but one person in the room. He was a thin, spare man, with a pale studious cast of countenance, or rather with a cold chilling look. He was quite tall and dressed very plainly in the black frock coat, mostly worn by the order. He was seated at a center-table with a pile of papers '-before him, some of which after reading he would mark and lay deliberately by, others he threw in - basket which stood on the floor near the table. When Father Alexander entered, the other person raised his head and a flecting slile for an instant brightened his sombre countenance. "I am glad you have come!" he said. I want your advice." "Mon Signor, I am but too happy if I can be of service to, your sacred person, or to our Holy Society!" said' the priest. "Yea, you are ever faithful uand truc. I have often reported you most favora- bly to His Excellency, the General at Rome. But to business These des- patches are from the province of St. Louis, and the news is not as favorable as I could desire-our Revenue there, instead of being on the increase has fallen away very largely!" "How does the Provincial Master account for it, Mon. Sigior2?" "He says that the German popula- tion which has increased very largely by immigration, of late, is to a great extent atheistical in its nature-that an infidel and Red Reptublican paper called the Anzeiger des Westens, an organ of the secret fraternity of Turn- r'icn, has a great influence and is em- ployed to ridicule us and oppose our progress!" "Have we not power to crush this paper?" "Not by open force. The German population is large and devoted to Burnstein, the editor, who has wealthy backers!" "Cannot we start an opposition Ger- man sheet to create a dissension among the Germans'?" " That I fear would cost more than it would come to. I see but one wtay to crush theim. that is through secret ma'nagelent, to get the Americans and Germans into a qluarrel and have our fa ithful Irish members of thie church unite -wi'tl the Amlericans in punishing their rcfactOry mncn, mlld then when' we, have crusihed and disorgianized theim we cani throw till the Blame on the AmCricniLs and .lmake capital for our- selves!" I It I ight create bloodsh!ed, I on Signior " ' Well what of it? Wrhat is heretic or ilfildel blood to us, but an a(cceptable sacrifce' ? If it is'to advance the Holy Cllurlcl, I care not if a river of blood, broad and deep as the Tiississppi, flo(ws tflroughl the' land I We 'can only suc- eedt in gainingi the uppIDer hand of these heretics by constantly jproducingl dissell- sions amiong thenm, so that they will 'wcetkenl usld destroy each other. We can; niCever gain a firin foothlold Here, whle ]the States remain u',Licld a.1nd friendly. Disunite them, disorganize thcm, lause a' civil war, and onl the ruillns of their wrecked' Republic we co,Uld build and firmly establishl our EIlMpirec And what an ]Empire under our rule we could make heIre-one so vast and so powerful thiat with the cross ilm onle lhald, and the sword in the, other, we could humnble Protestant England, alndl agaii bring every m'ollarch in Euirope to tle, feet of his IIoliness the Pope.: And-wewill'd w e will do it. Father Alexander. Lo6k over the map of the 'Union. We have over 4,000 Chlrches now-we number over , four millions of people, and of them at least, one, half can be depended on to do, fearlessly do, whatever they are com- manded!"' "We are rapidly gaining power and members, it is true, Mon Signior!" "Yes-by the way, how have you ar- ranged the matter in regard to furnish- ing the righlt kild of Governesses for the two families-.- Bennett and Carrol, which I gave to you in charge!" "Both have been supplied, Mon Sig- nior, and I expect a 'report this after- noon!" "Ah, that is well. That Carrol is a dangerous man, he has addressed sever- al of the wharf meetings lately, and de- coun11ted us very bvercly. He must be crushed-were he not so popular with the workigll classes, it would be best to put him out of the way. But were it done, and the thing could be fixed on a Catholic, we would be the sufferers, for it certainly will lead to an outbreak P' I agree with you Mon Signor, but I think we can remove him by the aid of our Sister, with a poison so slow in its effects as not to attract notice, but as sure as it is slow, reducing a dis- ease si1milar to, and quite as fatal as con- sumption!" "Well, I leave him to you-but if possible kill his fair name. and crush his influence by damning his reputation before you get rid of his body!" "Leave all that to me, Mon Signor, I will faithfully carry out your wishes. Is there anything else that your Ex- cellency desires?" "Nothing my good friend but that you take home this package of papers, and after reading them prepare an article for (The Freeman's Journal,' laudatory of our Western brethren and page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] their labors, and. boasting largely of our success. There is nothing like making the people think that we are converting the whole world-but I will not detain you, write a careful article. That stupid fool We Masters cannot write a sensible article to save' his soul. I don't see why he is kept at the head of so necessary an organ." "Probably it is because he can lie naturally and with such a good grace, and then he obeys orders blindly and without any scruples. He is as neces- sary to the Church, as Bennet used to be to the people when he started tho Herald, although Bennet was by far tie better man of the two. But Mon Signior, I will bid you adieuand hasten to my duty." t CHePTEAR XIIL IN a- dungeon, a dark cold cell, the Stone walls of which were dripping with clammy wet drops, on a pile of rotten straw, lay. the form of a female. A lantern, a pitcher of water, and an un- broken loaf of bread was all that met the eye except a huge iron cross fas- tened against the wall at one end of the cell. - The face of this female was death- ly pale, her eyes were red and swollen with , weepingJ-her features, though regular and beautiful, were sharpened and haggard with' suffering.' A plain *dress of black serge, such, as is worn by the nuns was all that she had on.- Her hair hlung, in black dishevelled masses down upon her, fair white neck and shoulders. By the careless atti- tude. her disordered hair and dress so disarranged that' it revealed more of her beautiful form than modesty would wish, one could see that despair. and hopelessness had taken possession of her soul. ," Hearing a key turn in the iron door ,of her cell, the unfortunate creature sprang to her feet. "Who is there? What do you want? Have you come to slay or. liberate me?" she cried. A man in priestly garb, whose face was concealed by a crape mask entered and after regarding her a moment in silence said:. "Daughter, I regret to find you here! I have not come here to injure you, but to hear your confession, and if possible to restore you to the bosom of our Holy Mother Churchl I I aim a father-one of the holy order of Jes- uits-who would fain be useful in sav- ing you from further suffering. .Are you ready to make a confession and abjure the false ideas that have crept into your breast, daughter?" "I make no confession except to my God-all I ask from 2you or the Church; is my liberty!" L"That we cannot grant while you are in your present state of mind, for your heart is full of evil, and all manner of bitterness against us, you would scan- dalise the Church!" "Oh, that my poor father and sis- ters knew how I was treated-or that the brave American people of New- York, knew that an inlno clnt helpless girl was dying by inclies in a damp cell because she liad dared to read the bible. Oh, little did I think when I consented to enter the service of the Church, that this would be my treatment-this my fIte!" "Daughter-it is your own fault-if you will force your rebellious spirit to return to its duty, I will guarantee you good treatment and conmfort. VlWhy need you read the bible,- when we can read it for you and expound it to, you. And are we not commanded to confess our sins, one to another?" .. page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] "No man is given power to absolve and forgive sin--at least I, never could find such authority in my bible, which alas, has been torn from me! Oh 1 sir, do tell them, if they will not liber- ate me from this damp, horrible place, to let me have my bible. It would be some consolation to have it for a com- panion!" "It is one that we cannot admit to you, daughter. But let me in all kind- ness counsel you to yield to your duty and to return to the path from which you have strayed! ' If you do not, you will surely perishi or if ordered by the Secret Tribunal of Seven, have to' un- dergo fearful tortures, such as the Church is sometimes obliged to inflict on recreants and apostates. Return, daughter, while it is yet possible! ' "Never--never! If I must perish, my soul shall not perish with me. I will not belie myself to save my life. Oh, if my poor father only knew that I was here!" "Childish girl, hope not for aid from him. Your father and your sisters are dressed in mourning-they weep for. you as dead, and dead you are to themn!" "Would that I was dead!" i Daughter, if you died in your here- sy your death would only be the pre- cursor of eterinal torment. Pray for your re-conversion to thel only true faith, rather than for death.! I will leave you and pray for your concver- sion and re storation 1" He turned away, the heavy iron door with clanking jar, closed upon her, and the poor girl sunk pale, tearless, and al- most breathlless, upon the straw again. l "They, my dear father and sisters, think that I am dead!" she moaned.- "They weepfor me. Oh, God help me-if they only knew where the hap- less, wretched Ursula was, these cold walls would not long shut me out from the light of day!" "Sister Ursula-- Sister Ursula-- hist!" whispered a female voice, which seemed to be in her v ery. cell. "Who calls me?" she asked, starting to her feet. "It is your friend Cecilia!" re- plied the voice which sthe now found to come through the key-hole. of the door. "Thank God you yet live-I feared you had perished. - O, is tiihcre -noth- ing I can do for you-I know you are a heretic, but I love you still?' "Cecilia, if you will indeed aid me, you can; you can save my life!" - "How? Tell me, and I will do it! -! "Convey a letter to my father, or send it, tellshim that I am hero detained a prisoner, starving and perishing in a cold, damp dungeon!" ("I know not how I can send him word. They watch me, for they know that I am your friend, but I will try. I can at least throw a note from my window into the street. If it is' picked uip by one of those who are not friendly to the church, they can convey it. But will I not commit an unpardonable sin?" "Oh; no, God will bless you for it.- You will save imy life-this place is ter- rible, and I will soohn perish in it." '"I will try. to save you-I hear foot- steps-I must go!" , Again was Ursula alone, but hope had re-entered her heart. CHAPTER. XIV. Two of "Thirteen's, Boys" were walking along a street in the upper part ofthe city, which on either side was lined with 'lalge, fashionable houses.- Each' of thcnle had on a glazed cap-red shirts, and wore tlheir pantaloons inside of thleir boot-legs, and in the mouth of each a huge cigar was alight. Judging from their conversation, they were Americans of the right'stripe, full blooded Natives. They were about twenty-one or twenty-two years of age, with fine intclligent faces, looking like the better class of mechanics. "I say Ilicksy," said one of them, "what do you think about 18's crowd?', "Why Oby," said the other-you ought to know what I think of 'em, they're all red-mouthed Mickeys, and a Mickey aint no more fit for a fireman than a hog is for a waiter at a crack hotel. They oughtn't to be allowed to run a machine where white men work!" "That's jist what I think l" said Oby. "And yet the Council will give 'erl more, and stand more from 'erl than any company in the city!" " Well, what is the Common Coun- cil? They're only the washings of the corner groceries and grog shops of the city I But them I 8's fellows had better talk small when thirteen's boys are out. Hallo, what's that!" A paper dropped at their feet. Itt ,was folded in the shape of a note, and seemed to fall from above them. They looked up and a small white hand waving to them, indicated tht it had been dropped purposely from an upper window of the large house which they were passing! "What is it Oby?" said his com- panion. ' Why it's an open note, let's. read it. What a pretty hand-writing it is done in. Let's see--what? Why Hicksy here's something wrong-it's a gal writing to her father that the d-- d Catholics have got her in a dungeon against her will?" "'Thunder,you don't say so-wlhywe must see about it and help. to get her out? I'm not one that'l let a gal suf- fer when she asks for help!" "Nor, H-I've got a mothller and sis- ters, and I always think of them when I hea'r of a womana that needs pro- tection!" "Gentlemen, 1lmay I see that note?" asked a lan dressed in black, whllo blad approached in their rear, and overheard their conversation. "We ain't no gentlemen. We're on- ly firemen!" said Obey. "None the less genteel for that!" re- plied the stranger, ' but as I am an of-- ficer, I feel interested in the matter!" "An bfficer?" said IIicksy -"why, you look more like a Priest tlhan an of- ficer-where's your star?" "I never carry one. I'm one of the Chief's shadows."' page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] t Oh you are. are you?" said Oby. "Well you do look a little shadowish; but what do you want. to do with the note?" '1 To investigate the affair." "Well, Mr. Shadow, I reckon we're capable of, invcstigalting it ourselves, or at least of carrying the note to the gal's father. So'good night to you!" a Curses on them-lie will have our house searched, very likely mobbed," muttered the man'as they passed on. After they lead turned the corner he hurried into the house. Meantime the firemen hurried down to their engine house to hold a consult- -ation'as to what had better be done in the case, conferring on the matter as they went along. "Hadn't we better go to the chief's office and get some policemen, and get the poor gal out?" "No," replied Hlicksy, for two- third of the police are Catholic Mick- eys, and you don't think they'd help to rescue a girl from the clutches of a priest, do you? No--we must either get some of the boys to help us, and do the job ourselves, 'or else go and see the gal's father, and let him take means to do it himself!" "Well, maybe that's best; but we'll see the boys, and hold 'a' council of war!" On reaching the engine house, a few of the company were found in the back room, and the door having been shut, and a pledge of secrecy exacted, the letter was read to them, and the man- ner in which it was received, explained. With the noble, warm-hearted ardor which seems to, be an inherent part of ie nature of our daring firemen, the vote was at once to go and let the girl out at all hazards, if they had to 'wash the, house out.' But .Hicksy, who seemed to be something of a philoso- pher, and who had great influence with the rest, advised that the girl's father should first be visited, and then they would have the law on their side, and go in." His advice being taken, he wads appointed a committee of one to perform the duty. Telling the boys to hold on until be returned, as he only had ten or twelve blocks 'to go, he started upon his er- rand. I should have premised that it was in the dusk of the evening when they received the note, the hour when the limp-lighters, ladder in hand, hurried from lamp to lamp, to render darkness visible,' and light beacons to guide the weary wanderer among the sewers and gullies, and gutters of the city. Bdit now it was quite dark: and a chill, fog- gy* atmosphere made even the lamps look dim-and dismal. As Hicksy started from the engine 'house, he did not notice that three mea stood in the deep shadow of a door- way, a little beyond. But they did see himl, and drew back close to the wall, and kept silent as he passed, within eight or nine feet of them. "That is one of them, he probably has the letter ;-he must never deliver it!" whispered one of the men to the other two.. "We'll take care of him, your rever- ence!" said one of the men. "' Lave him to us, and may the Lord. Jasus have mercy on the sinful sowl of him!' Noiselessly the two men- followed after Hicksey, wiile the third hurried off in another direction. 'The two soon came e up with the fireman, and as he turned a corner into a street which did not seemn to be much frequented, one of them, pretending to be- drunk, stagger- ed up against him. "Look here, old chap, this pavement is wide enough for two to run on, with- out locking wheels!" he said. "Jabers, what d'ye mane by insultin my friend?, Sure he's a gintleman, if he has a drop too much in him. Say but theIsecond word and I'll knock the two eyes iv you into one, ye thafe o' the world!" "The Greek isn't born' that can do that!" said Hicksy,." and if you don't want to see two buzzards laid out, you might as well travel along, and let me ' alone " "Buzzards, is it, we are?" said the first, aiming a blow at Hicksy's head, which the .latter caught on -his arm, and returned with a kick in the pit of the stomachi, which sent the Irisl!nlhman 'doubled up' into the middle of the street. But the other suddenly recov- ered from his' pretended intoxication. and before Hicksy could turn to at- tend to his case, struck him with a short club, loaded with lead. The poor fireman fell forward'on his face, while' the blood gushed from his ,head. "I say, Owen, I've done for him,' said No. 2. "Jasus, but he kicks like a horse!' grunted the other. "Take 'that, for remembrance sakel ye Yankee heretic!' he added, kickingr the senseless man in the face with his heavy iron-shod shoe. "Let's feel for the letter,-his rever- ence bade us secure that by all manes!' said the other. "D'ye think he's dead?" asked the: ., I other, as he went very handily to work f to take the articles out of his pockets, - not forgetting a silver watch, which was suspended around his neck by a chain or strand of braided hair. "Not far from it!" replied the other, as lie snatched the letter from the hand i wherein the poor fellow had clasped it." f 'They now hurried away from their victim, who lay bleeding and gasping on I the side-walk. He was alone, with life scarcely left in him. After they had gone,- as is usually the case, a policeman came along, and seeing him lay there bleeding and alone, first endeavored to arouse him, apd fiinding -it a failure, sounded-the alarm rap. In a few mo- mnents, otlhers of our 1"Star Protectors" caume up, making their clubs resound[ upon the curb stones, to signify' that Ithey were on hand, anld equal to any emergency. A consultation was held, and it was decided that the man wasn't dead, and therefore he might be carried to the New-York Hospital for further assist. a*ece. As the policemen who decided upon this necessary evil, were, like Pat Daly, of Grecian origin, we may pardon them for their mistake. Hicksy was carried to the Hospital, where the appliance of a few restora- tives at once brought him too, for a slung shot isn't quite enough to kill an American fireman. Hicksy, on coming to, asked, " where am I?" "In the Hospital, my friend. . Keep quiet-quiet and a cooling draught is, recomnmended for you, by Dr. Mc- Comb!" "Quiet!--hell ,and thander! Where are any of 13's boys? Let me go : round to 13's house!" ,. page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] "You are weak--you need repose. You have lost blood." "Yes, I have lost blood, and some of them Mickeys 'll loose blood too, before long. I want to go to 13's house; send some one with me-I'll lpk; 'eali "But, my'friend, you're too weak!" said the attendant. "i No, I'm not!" and the fireman broke away from his attendants, and without hat or coat, rushed into the street. CHAPTER XV. THrTE:EN's boys were waiting very impatiently for the return of their com- rade. Oby had repeatedly said that he'd stake his life that Hicksy was all right, and would do- all that, could be asked from an American boy; yet ev- en ie wondered why he staid so long. One lhour passed,--two rolled along, and he calme not. "Somlethigng wrong is oat," faid one of the boys. "I'm afcard there is!" said Oby. "Hickscyis a fast goer; he wouldn't hold back for nothing!" "Hadn't we better go and look for hinm?' proposed another. "I reckon we had, said Oby. But at that moment an apparition, or solme- thing like one, entered, which started them all to their feet. '? 'It was Hicksey, with nothing on but 'his pantaloons and shirt, the latter stained with blood, his head bound with 'a hospital bandage, his face. pale as death. "Good God, what is the matter Hick- sey?" cried several of the party. "Nothing to speak of, only the Greeks lainmed and robbed me, but I made a spread buzzard of one of 'em," said the fireman faintly, for there was but little life left in him. ' Where are they-where can we find tIhe hounds?" yelled the party.- But Hicksy could not answer them-- he had fainted. "Boys, let one of you' take care of hilmn I'm going to see t!s out!" said Oby, rushing for the street. "And so are we cried all the rest,. exceptingl onlly the regular house keep- er; who could'not leave his post. IT was but a few moments after the younig men belonging to " 13" received tlhenote before allulded to, that Ursula again heard the whisper of hler friend at the key-hole of her coll. ' Hist. Sister Ursula," she cried," it is done, I have Written for you to your father, but oil, if I have been dis- covered! What will they not do to nc?" "I pray God, dear Cccclia that they ,have not!" said Ursula, " and if I do escape and you wish to. be fi'ee from this prison of body and of souD you shall be. Those who can release me shall release you!" "And those who have imprisoned you shall imprison her!" said a heavy voice and poor Cecclia was grasped in the hands of strong men. The key was placed in the dungeon door, with a clanking creak it was opcned,and Ce- "Iia was thrust in. With a moan she sunk upon the bosom of Ursula. For a moment both were silent-their sobs only could be heard. Cecelia spoke first. "Ursula-before, I looked upon you as a heretic-but now let me be but a , Sister!"' she s6bbed. page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] "Yes, you are a Sister, and GOD is our Father!" replied Ursula. "Let the worst come, He who made us will sustain us!" "Hark there are steps, coming!" said Cecelia. "Perhaps for our rescue " said Ursula, but she spoke in a low whisper as if her heart doubted her words. * - # * -# # At the hour when Hicksy wounded and bleeding, entered the engine house, a carriage left the building whence he and his companion received 'the note.- Before it' left, two large bundles had been carried and placed'within it, each carried by. four men. A man sat by the, driver as he went away. The course taken by the carriage was toward Harlem. ("What was in those bundles? Why in the night time was it necessary to re- move them? If they were merely pack- ages of merchandize, wihy was a car- riae, used instead of a dray? And where were the vigilant police, who should have enquired into any and all' suspicious movements? Go and ask' the Irish captain of the Ward where these things occurred, for THEY DIP O- CUR 1 Why did thnt carriage drive toward Harlem? Read the next Chapter, .and you can find an answer to moat of the questions propounded above CHAPTER XVI. ", I Reander, do you remember the house I described in the seventh Chapter of this work;--thcehouse in Westchester county, in this State? And do you remember the jolly Jesuit Priest, Father Burke', whose Christian characteristics I ,exhi- bited in the same Chapter'? Well, in the same house, let us take a look at the same holy Father. It, was after midnight. A carriage rolled rapidly up the gravelled avoenue, and stopped before the aforementioned house. A man who sat beside the driver, leaped from the coach box, and rang the bell;-he waited ia few moments, and again rang it furiously. He was wrap- ped in a cloak, and a slouched felt hat, (such as has has lately been called the 'Cal- ifornia hat" by Rafferty & Lcask, the Chatham street Hatters,) completely shadowed his features. He waited for three or four minutes and again rung the bell with more force than before, and I'm not sure but a curse was breathed from his priestly lips. But what of that? My readers know that a Christian will swear when he gets out of patience! Jobs don't exist now-a-days, and there are folks who WILL bile over, if he wouldn't. At last the door opened and a ser- vant in his shirt-sleeves, modest read- er, asked in a squalling tone; ".What the devil d'ye want here?" 4 "Peace, menial!" replied the man in 'the cloak. '; Tell Father Burke that I, Father Alexander, wish to see hihm instantly!" "Oh, Jasus, is it your Riverencee Your pardon and your blessing, howly Father; sure an' I did'nt know ye in the dark!" cried the servant, dropping on his knees. "You have my forgiveness and blessing. Show me at once to Father Burke's room!" '"Yes, your Riverence, but had'nt I better wake him up first?"' "No matter, Il1 wake him; my business is urgent!" The priest, as he said this, followed the servant in. At' the door of Father Burle's .room they were met by the holy Father himself, who had been aroused by the noise. Father Alexander was no believer in, ghosts, yet his tall figure enabled him to look over Father Burke's head, and he could have sworn that' he saw a fig. ure resembling a female, robed in white, in that room, and knowing that Father Burke like all thIe rest of the holy Cath- I olic Priest-hood was vowed to celibacy, an icy statute of virtue, he could not but think' that he saw a ghost! "What is the matter?" asked the reverend Father Burke, drawing the ample folds of his night-gown closely and modestly around him, also closing the door therefore hiding the ghost page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] from the view of the other Priest. "1 have work for you," replied Fa- ther Alexander. "We have two recre- ants from our faith to deal with-it was not safe to keep them in the city, and by order of His Eminence. I have 'brought them here!" "The Lord Jesus bless his Eminence, but I'm full already with boarders of the sort, may the devil fly away wid 'em. Can these two be put in one cell?" "Yes, they were brought from one cell!" "Then I can accommodate them with ' gentale lodgings,' as the papers say.-- But are they he's or she's?" "They are females!" "Aye? And are they good-lookin', Father Alexander? Sure such a hand- some man as you ought to be a judge of beauty!" "Father Burke, this is a time and an occasi'on for businescs not for levity ." "Excuse me, Father Alexander, but it's only funning I was! You see the fun is in me, as full as an. egg is of mate, and it will come out!" "Well, well-dress yourself, and as- sist me in taking care of our prisoners." With the assistance of several of Father Burke's household, the two bun- dles were carried into the house. Though two animate, terror-stricken forms were in those bundles, they stir- red not, nor did they struggle. They t could not. They were bound as fast as mummies. Though two female t tongues(the nearest mechanical approach i to perpetual motion is a woman's tongue) were there, no shriek, or cry, or moan c was heard. Both of them were gagged. s They were carried, we know not; l where, for there are many mysteries t about that house, yet to be revealed. ]Butt it was not long ere Father -Burke and the other priest again stood at the front door of the building. 3 You will keep close watch and ward over your prisoners, Father Burke," said Father Alexander, " until the fur- ther will. of His Eminence, the Provin- dial Grand Master is known. And es- pecially beware lest heretic intruders should penetrate into our secrets: You cannot be too careful whom you admit within your walls, whether as friend or servitor!" " Fear not, good Father Alexander, sure ll11 keep them safe as if they were in a tomb. But before you go, you'll surely take a drop of wine, or a nogginf- of whiskey punch--it'll not take a min- ute, I've an invention of my own for heating the water quickly-do it- for your stomach's sake, as howly St. Paul says. Sure its dangerous to brave the night air with your stomach unpro- tected!" "Thank you, Father Burko-- I have not the time, had I the inclination. I must be in town before daylijght! We must never neglect our duty for plea- ' sure!" L"Ah, there it is yourself that is right --sure it is a maxim of my own!" "Good night, Father Burke:--re- member me in your prayers!" "Surely will I, Father Alexander- good night or mornin' as it may be, and the saints purtect ye from the dangers of the road, and from catching cowld in the stomach for want of proper precau- tion." As the other drove off, Father Burke closed the door, and either went to take some punch, spiritually, or to look after. his " ghostly comforter"-it would bother us to guess whioeb, CHAPTER XVIII OBY the Fireman, with his friends, rushed from their engine room in the direction which Hicksy had taken, but no Greeks were visible, and they were about to return to their Engine House, when Oby proposed that they should go to the house from which the letter had been dropped. This proposal was readily accepted, foi the blood of the "Boys " was up, and they were not in the,humor to stick at trifles, , It was but a few moments after the carriage left when they reach- ed the door. Had they arrived but a few minutes .earlier, it is doubtful whether those bundles would have been been carried off unexamined. On arriving at the house, Oby as- cended the steps, while the others re- mained below awaiting his orders, for by tacit consent he was acting as Cap- tain of the party. He rung, the bell. The first ring was not answered, and after waiting a few minutes he rung harder, so hard indeed'that the bell knob came off. Then he kicked at the door. At this a window above was opened and a voice, musical as the filing of a . hand-saw, smacking strong as an onion, of the brogue of Erin, was heard: What's wantin'?" "We want to get in-we want to see i the Master of this house," replied l Oby. "Sure and that's impossible, for the X I, ' aster's away in the country." "Then the missus will do-we're t bound to see one or the other!" said a the fireman. , "And the missus is sick-you can't I see her. Sure there isn't one of us at ' home! Can't ye understand that?" ( No, ma'am, we can't; we're city of- ficers on a tour of inspection, and we want to visit your house-open the door!" " Och, sir, sure how can we, when it's locked inside, and the masther took the kay with him when he went away!" "Open it, you bloody Groek--there's a gal dyin' in there,; and we are goin' to let her out, or die in trying 1" The fireman's only answer was the slammniing down of the 'window above him.' "Boys," said he, "it's time we went in!" Their response was that of men who go in for 'deeds not words.' They commenced with their heels 6 and fists :to hint that the door must be ; opened. Suddenly, as if by magic, for it takes magic (or money) to produce a police- man when he is wanted, an -alarm rap was heard and, it speedily was answer- ed by a dozen more- Thirteen's party in a moment found at least twenty policemen around them,'and very sin- gularly, (not singularly, for they hold e majority of all local offices here,) page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] they were all Gfeeks. We would not for a moment suppose that, though be- ing paid by the. city, they were in Jesuit employ and had been ordered there by a priest to meet the emergen- cy, that would be almost unreasonable. But they were there, and their leader, Lieutenant O'Pirtery, a distinguished patriot of the Slievegannon war, and a forty-seventh 'cousin to Col. Dastard McGee, full of rum and bravery, dash- ed up the steps and waving his locust club over his head, asked of Obey: ("What the divil's the row here? What are ye about at this time o' night, disturbin' the pace?" "You're a policeman, aih't you?' asked Oby. "Yes, by the grace of God and the pleasure of the Mayor, I am ; but what o 'that?" "Only that I want you to help me and my friends in rescuing a poor girl from some cursed Catholic priests who've got her stowed away here in this house against her will!" "Did you curse a Catholic priest!" asked. the policeman, in astonishmen. "Yes, what of that? I'll curse any body that-wrongs or abuses a woman,!' "You will? then you've got to go to the Station-house, my boy. You dare to curse a priest, eh?--sure its up to the Island the Judge will send ye -for that! Now go along paceable, will ye, or shall I have persuade ye, wid this club of office?" "Don't you offer to hit me, you in- fernal Greek-I'm----" "Greek is it, I am?" yelled the brave policeman, striking poor Oby be- fore he knew what was coming. Oby fell, but before he was down Thrteen's boys were at work with " a full stream on." Greek after Greek dropped-they had no time to rap. on the pavement, other rapping occupied them: The result was, that after a very severe fight of about five'minutes the Greeks left, and so did the Ameri- cans, that is, they left chasing them I In the new excitement the poor girl was forgotten. Oby soon got on his feet, and all hands returned to the en- gine-house to "repair damages," and consult in regard to future action. CHAPTER XIX. "It is time that she was here 1 I long for,. yet I dread her coming- There seems to be a strange spell up. on me when she is in my presence-an undefiable something which I cannot master. . There is something that re- minds me of my lost Constanza---like her she has a proud, 'queenly, noble figure-an eye darker than a starless night; yet brighter than a pure, diamond set in jet.: Her voice too thrills over my heart-strings like a gentle wind niurimering amidst the chords of. a harp left to hang negledted on, a blasted tree ] It is tinme that she. was here to report to-me--I long for her coming yet also I'dread it. It is wrong, doub- ly wrong for mie to Jove her, yet I fear that I do, Doubly wrong-because. first, that I have vowed ever to cherish my first, holy, pure, true love for my n poor lost Constanza. Second, tha-' I am vowed unto and bound by terrible \ tics to the Secret order of Jesus- to the Holy, Church of Role! No! ] -I must not, dare not. love her. Yet V who can check the swelling tide bf pas- sion in the human heart? ]I-8 only, who can bid the ocean waves be still, s who can-bhush the, growling: thunder, "1 or check the jagged lightning's bolt in d its fierce course with his mighty hand! t Ahi! she comes!" 'Thase remark were made by Father n Alexander, as he paced to and fro in his g library, or sitting room. As he closed I1 them, steps were heard approaching, and - a gentle knock jarred the door, and slightly it echoedt through thd room.-- i The priest paused a moment, and, in- t stead of doing. as he generally had, called out-, coOlle in,"--he went and opened the door. It was GENITA MoLAND who en- tered. The Priest bowed low and han- ded her a chair, at the sameo time say- ing, while his voice trembled from agit- ation "Sister Genita, I have been expect- ing you some time-are you well?"? "Quite well, Father Alexander," she replied;, "but surely you do not think I am diliatory-I was to be here at eleven-it yet lacks seven or eight min- utes of that hour.?' "Perhaps, my friend, my watch is wrong--but to business. How do you get along with the family of Mrs. Ben- nett?" "Oh, very well, with the children, Father Alexander, they seem to like me very much, but I fear their father loves me too well!" "That is right, Genita, we wish hin so to love you that you can use bound- less influence over him. But, beware, do not let your own heart grow interes- ted-remember your vows!" "I ever shall, holy Father," said Ge- nita, blushing, "my heart is in no dan- ger. If he should love me, his is not a love which could win a return from me, page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] --he may love with the eye of passiong n but a pure heart's love can only satisfy M one who never has been loved, or never t has loved." "Have you never loved, Genita?" a "Never, Father 'Alexander!" . "And never been loved?' a "Not that I know of. I haveheard E low whispers, seen warm, beaming eyes I look upon me, and my position forbade s any interpretation of them. He has hinted that he loved me-he is very of- 1 ten in the nursery with the children, so often that I fear his wife will notice I it 1" So far all is right, Sister Genita, but do not encourage him further. Visit i me as often as possible--the interests of our holy order require, in a case so a important as this, a frequent conference. Come often." ", Whenever you desire it, Father 1l- exander!" said Genita, 'dropping her eyelids so as to obscure the' beautiful eyes into which he so earnestly gazed. Then receiving his blessing, she de- parted. ' Strange--strange, but my veins thrill with all the fires of youth when I gaze upon that girl, She is loevely- my God, how like she is to what don- stanza was! Protect me from loving her too wildly-I must not. Yet I cannot forbid her coning to me 1" The Priest paced up- and down for some time, in agitation, endeavoring to check and still the feelings raging in his breast. In this he had partially suc- eeded, when he was interrupted -by another knock at the door. This time he simply said, and that not very gently, "Come in!" The person who entered was a small- sized man, of an undefinable age, for his hair was of that soft mud color which never grows gray. His complexion was between chalk aud saffron,- or a lit- tle like ochre mixed with sour milk. He had weazel eyes and a snub nose, and his figure was not more gainly than his person. A very low forehead-and a diminution of all the intellectual or- gans, as well as a preponderance of the brutal ones, would assist any close ob- server in defining his character. . Father Alexander did not seem to like his visitor, for neither his looks or words of greeting were over kind, as he-bade the man take a seat, while ihe still remained upon his feet. "Are-ye well in health, Father Alex. ander?" asked the visitor. "Quite well, Mr. Muckmursters," replied the Priest. "Thank God for the same!' said the man, with a strong celtic brogue, " as I remarked to his Riverence, the'Arch- bishop, this morning, the health of such lmen as yourself is worth more in the good cause than the lives of a dozen like us! But maybe you're busy-- I'm detaining you?" 4 I am rat-her busym , I have to prepare an address for the dpening of a new - school, founded by our brothers in Mas- sachusetts, Mr. Muckmursters!" , "Ah thin, I'll not detain you, but as [ I remarked to his Riverence the Arch- bishop this morning, you're giving me a r hint of what I came for. You see I'm: o invited to deliver a sort of a spache, in s Newark, at the opening of a new school - of our own there, and as I know I am y not capable of doing justice to the occa- sion, I made so bowld as to come around r, and ask if you would'ut write me out something that would express the senti- I- ments we wish to promulgate. I can't is make a spache till I coInmit it to mem- ory, and if you would only write me one it would be an everlasting favor!" "It shall be done, and sent around to your office,Mr. Iluckiursters! How does your paper circulate?" "Extensively, Sir, extensively, but as I said to his Rivercnce, the Arch- bishop, tills morning, that cursed here- tic, Ned Buntline, bothers me .terribly. The divil is in the fellow, sure. We've tried -to crush him for ten years-we've got him into prison, we've separated himl from -a good wife and a lovely boy- we've driven his ould mother crazy, and damn him, (excuse me, your 'riverence for swcaring, I can't help it,) he stands it all. We thouglit wcd run him out of the city, or send him filibustering where he'd lose his liead, but here he is back. We tried to have him murdered by the Dutcll in St. Louis, we. wanted the Indians to make dried meat of himn on the plains, we thought that at least CONCHA could use him up in Cuba, yet here he is. more deadly in his enmity to our church and cause than evcr- has sprung like a Phoellix from its ash- es, with hosts of old, tried friends and many new o(nes. Father Alexander if we.,don't kill tlat man and his reputa- tion with hlm, he will ruin us here in our strongest position!'" True,' Mr. Muck ustcrs, but how?" "Get some of his friends to betray hin. Sure 'friendship's but a name, as the poet says." I "Hisfriensds? Whom can we get? Who am;ong the Americans is there who will emulate the example of an Ar- nold!" "Oh, your Reverence, we can find t several. I know one, he is a .NewBrit- ain Yankee." "A what?" . "A New-Britain Yankee-a cur of ea kind of mongrel breed, but 'afellow that t would skin a flint for its hide and tal- low, if he spoiled a jack-knife inl the at- tempt. He has got the management of some type, not in his own name, for though it is SMITH, he is obliged to add bankrupt to it to save him from paying - his debts, and we can get him to pub- lish for a small price any lie we please e about Buntline. We can let the fellow e have funds enough to circulate the lies, I and then our object is gained"' "Yes, I see, but are you sure that this fellow will. 4act true to us, if he be- trays his friends so readily-?" L Yes, as long as we would pay him. He has no conscience--and is mean enough to hire out his wife to mend shirts and stockings. He is just the man for us to use- We can prove that he was born on American soil, lhe can influence many who don't know Bunt- line's heart or history, against him, by prctending that Buntline works for money, while he, SMITH, works from pa- triotism. The very fect that Buntline is doing well, while Smith can't scarce- ly get a bite to eat, lot alone enough to pay his hands, will help Smnith to carry out the idea. The feelings of generous people always go with the poor, and as Smith can act the beggar naturally, why with our aid he can be made an ef- fectual tool!" "Well, theer we had better use him, but you can 'do that secretly. 1We must not be known in the affair!" "Not- for worlds your Itiverence. You'll have the spache ready?" "Yes, in the morning; I will send it to you." Good day 'then, your Riverence, may the blessin' of all the saints be wid your labors!" "What tools we tamuve to use!" mut- tered the Priest, after he had dismissed page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] his visitor. ". Thieves, liars, traitors, assassins!. Yet it is necessary, for so long as the end is good, we are not to consider the means. So said our founder, Saint Ignatius, so have our ho- liest fathers since written. Yet it makes me feel' that am :demeaning myself to act like others, as a, tool to MY* crush one whose heart is right. But it must be done. I pity Buntline, but he must fail! Yes, while he exists with friends to love and aid him, we can have no peace. He must die-his past deeds and his present .actions must be blotted over and he. must perish, or we cannot succeed I ' CHAPTER XX. A meting- meeting on Sunday,- and that in the open streets. Not und- er the carved dome atnd cloud-piercing spire of old "Trinity" ; not in a mar- ble-walled church, but in the open air- a meeting of the free resididnts of a free country, to hear the Word of God preached upon the holy Sabbath Day. Is it not terriblc, is it not wrong, tlhat in a free coulrtry such a crime should 6b toleratedl. But look, the servants o law, with brass stars on their breasts and brass full-moons on their faces, arc present too. The meeting is held upon a wharf, close by vessels which carl:I the flag' of fieedoim triumlphantly 'evcry- wherc-tlhat flag licell is the shield ot tlhe oppressed in all climes, on all seas, on all shor1'es. The mlleeting is attended by llulldreds of people,-quiet, orderly people,--and yet it is: necessary to have policemen there. It is not necessary to send thcnr to the ruml holcs and dance- houses, or to the ldaily " necessary evils" of- the city, to preserve peacee there. Oh, no, they must go where thl'I word of the PIiince of Peace" is preached-to do what?-k-to prcsrve.- peace? No, but to close the lips o-f good mnen, to put a lie upon our Consti- tution, to prevent freedom of thougoht, of speech, and of lawful action. And for whom? Is it for those whlo are tax- ed to pay them? No. it. is for the sup- port of a foireign, papal despotism, tot sustain the direst foes to liberty that ev- er existed. But, to th'e, meeting, for' I am des- cribing facts, not moralizing or theoris- ing. A gentleman stands upon the end of a pile of ship timber, and' holding the Holy Bible in his hands, colmmenlces to speak, and thcse are his words: "My friends, I hold; in my hiand the compass wlhichl guided my Puritan fa- tlCers froml despotic Elurot)C to free America. The book hilch was their lighlt in the dark liiglt of trouble, their tompnlioll inll the wildernless-tihe book p onm which this republiic is founded-e the book which all of our children should read, but which our foes-our Jesuit foes--would .try to tear from us, aye, forever!" "What's that ye're ,ayin' against the Jesuits, ye' Yankee thafel?" yells a ;'red mouth from the crowd.' . - ' Say?" continued the speaker,;' "I ay that like incarinate fiends, like un- grateful serpents warmed into life on our hospitable hearths, they would de, stroy our liberties, sting the hands which have fed them!" "Down wid him--down wid him, the bloody heretic ' yells'another Greek. "Sure he is blasphemin' the howly church o' Jasus!" "Down wid him," yells another and another! A rush is made for him-a few friends, American protestants ral- ly to support their minister, who reels bleeding from his stand, wounded by a \ page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] stone thrown in his face by one of the I hairy mouthed crew. The Americans o indignant at such enormous wrongs g committed upon 'their own soil, by for. . eign foes-the Jesuits--attempt to- drive those back who would attempt to ] murder their minister. And now it 'is I that the Police of the American city a of New Yerk are called into action. X See them, the hair yet long upon their I teeth, their red mouths belching forth curses, breaking through the crowd of Americans, knocking them down right and left with -their clubs of office. Seie their captain, a brave and prudent offi- cier is he, standing on a pile of timber ,cheering his men to " go in " where he dare not go. "Take the preacher!" he cries, "'off to the Station-house wid him. Sur- round and capture every divil of 'em! Sure, I wish I had a platoon of the im- mortal Irish Greens of 1812 here, I'd masacree the whole crowd, the thavin' Yankee blackguards? Sure haven't we chlurches, and bishops, and prastes. enough for 'em, and what business have they to listen to any heretic-to hell wid 'cm all." The fight rages on-a moment more and the Amnerican preadier bruised and bleeding is in the hands -of the Greek policemen. The few A'merieatns who would oppose his arrest, are beaten down, and lie is borne off in triuniph to aprison by men. who neither under- stand or respect our laws-who have no affinity by birth or feeling with us, who are in truth, though in the' employ of the city of New York, only the min- ions of the Pope of Rome. Yes 'the base, unprincipled, servile minions of his Holiness (?) the Pope of Rome, and his Eminence, Archbishop Hughes.-- An American preacher carried to pris- on, for whatcrime? , For preaching the gospel of Christ, without money and without price. And that in a city in which three hundred and fifty thousand people, born on Am'erican soil, exist 1' Are such men Americans? NO!.a thou- sand times no to the thought. They have forgotten their Puritan fathers- they leave forgotten the men of the Revolution--they have forgotten that our forefathers were driven here by, Catholic persecution. They' have forgotten the Waldenses, the Hugenots, the Covenanters-they have forgotten' their duty, their God, and their country. The spoiler is here among'them--yet they sleep. They do not seem to dream of danger, though the roof which covers them is on fire. - These are facts-this is not fiction. Has it not become almost a crime to be known as an American? To be an American is to be disqualified for of- fice! Do I not speak from the record? Has not he who pens these lines in his own person verified the fact? Did not C. Patrick Daly, now a candidate for a Judgeship in our city, the nman who approves of. brothels as " necessary evils" in our city. and therefore the "Reform. Candidate"--t each me the lesson-a lesson which I never will forget? And where ends this Chapter? It culds-with ah American Ministers in prison, for preaching the truths of the holy bible. And what is done with th-at bible? The same crowd who im' prison the minister, burn his bible, and wlhile it; the holy word of GOD-is in flames, they kick it around the streets. - And men who call themselves Ameri- cans, who are descended from persecut- sd,. yet triumphant protestants, endure this! Shame on you, dastards and cowards as you are! Deny your fa- thers, disgrace not their names by say- ing that you are their descendants. page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] 'CHAPT:IR XXI. Torture! The torture of the Inqui- sition! T rible--too horrible for de- scription, yet realland not imaginary, and that in a free country, in a country called the mloodel Republic of the world, yet a Republic whichb dares not emu- late the brave example of New Grana- da, and drive the hellish Jesuits from her borders. Torture! The Inquisi- tion banished even from Spain and here renewed. In a large room in the building over which, as Satan rules in Hell, the man I call Father Burke, presides-a room like that described in the second Chap- ter of this work, hung withl black and only lighted by latnps, for the day is never permitted to look in upon such scenes, sat seven men robed as Priests behind a table upon which seven can-, dles burned Even as in Rome, a 'Council of Scven " was assembled.- They had paper, pens, and ink, before them, and each 1ma11's face was miasked with black crape. Yes, Christians, that is Catholic Christians, claiming to be the apostolic successors of humble holy Jesus, have to mask their faces.- and their hearts too. The Chief of the Council of Seven, designated by his central position and higher seat, rung a silver bell- which was before him, and as he did so two men dressed in long black robes enter- ed by a curtained entrance in front, passed to the front of the table and making the sign of the cross and a rev- erential obeisance, stood as if waiting for orders. "Bring in the prisoners from Num- ber 17!" said the Chief. , The men departed and were absent about ten minutes. During the timen they were absent not a word was spokcn by the members of the Council. When the attendants returned each one led a veiled- female. Both were dressed in lose gowns of coarsec black serge and their feet were bare. They were shivering too wit'h cold and the damp in the dungcon whence they lad just been brought. "Unveil them!" said the Chief to the attendants who had brought them before the table. Thile order was obey- cd, and the features of the Sisters Ce- celia and Ursula were rendered visible. Both were wan and pale; their eyes reddened by weeping, but Ursula looked far more calm and determined than Cecelia. The latter seemed scarcely able to stand and trembled vi- olently while she gazed upon the dark masks through which fiery glances were seen, seeming to pierce to the very soul. " "What are the charges against these wretched prisoners?" asked the Chief. "One of the Council took up a paper and read: "UR;SULA, once a Sister, but now an apostate is charged. with, having read 'the Bible against our rules, and With introducing the translation of that damnable heretic King James into her convent. With' refusing to confess to her spiritual adviser. With herecy in refusing to fulfill her vows and constu- macy toward her superiors. With at. tempting. to escape from our charge. into which by her vows she had forever: rendered herself,)' "Sister CECELIA-charged with hav- ing attempted to aid Ursula in 'escap ing; with having listened to her here- sies with a willing ear-in having made prayers whichl are not in our ritual." "Ursula, what answer can you make to these clharges?" said the Chief. "That I have read the Holy Bible- is true! That I have refused to con- fess to any but my God is true--that I have attcempted to escape from illegal restrainuts, is true-that I have knelt down in my dungeon and prayed God to rescue me from the hands of my per- secutors, is true. But I am not a here, tic, for I believe in the holy Trinity. and in, the Christ who suffered that we, ; might live in eternity and ill Him!" "Do'you believe in the holy Roman Catholic Church, and will you under -due penance return, if permitted, to its bosom, submit to all its ordinances and renew your broken vows?'? "Never! I cannot-all that I ask is , freedom and peace'!" "Foolish rash, impious girl-beware lest youll bespeak a terrible doom. We have means to force apostates to re- nounce their heresies 1" "I can but die! There are things more terrible to fear and harder to endure than death! 1 Think, pause and reflect, then answer t before it is forever too late. You have t one hour for your decision-for your v h own sake let it be that of a repentant ,t and contrite one, who kriows ier errors r and will strive to redeem herself froD* o them!" DI At a sign the attendant who had Ur L- sula in charge, turned to lead'her away. - Cecelia also turned to go with her, but was retained. ' " e ha VC quesYlOns tor you to an- swer next, Sister Cecelia:,' skaid the Chief, "and let me wrrn you to be ,pru- dent in your replies. We are not to be trifled with!'5 "Oh, pray let Ursula remanin .with me, holy father!" she cried, shrinking in terror from thile rude grasp of him who retained her. "It cannot bel Remain and take warning again-be prudent and you may yet be saved what she, if obsinate, must suffer!" When Cecelia turned again, Ursula was gone. Then tremnbling with terror she awaited her examination. The Chief repeated the accusation as given by one of the others of the Coun- cil, and asked :-- "What have you to say to these charges?" "Holy Father, I loved Ursula-I saw that she suffered; I did write a note to her father. I did try to help her, for she would have died in that cell, and she was too good to dle! Wo all loved her while she was with us, she was gentle, and patient, and kind, and--" "'Stop, answer the questions we have asked of yourself. We want no praise of her .! thundered the Chief. "Then I am charged with lending a willing ear to her heresies. We have talked in. our dungeon about many things-I searde know what; but we were alone, no one could hear us!" page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] I "Walls cannot bar secrets from us! WE are everywhere--it is vain for any one to think that they can hide their deeds fronl us!" said the Chief. "You confess that you have listened to her, prayed with her, that you tried to aid her to escape?" ' '. Yes, holy Father, but I loved her so "Child erring foolish child, you vow- ed only to love the spouse whom the Church proviced for you-to 'love no- thing but Jesus. You gave your heart and body and soul to the ,Church, and all human love, all human passions should have -been then and forever ban- ished from your heart. You have 'sin- ned, and sinned grievously. Many hours of penanee, and many a repenit- ent tear will be required ever. to purify you from those heinous sint, But if you regret therh, abjure past errors, re- turn to your duties, and aid us either in restoring Ursula to the Church,or else if she is obstinate, confessing and wit- nessing to all that she has told you, then you can yet be restored to your former high and holy place .of rest in the bosom of our holy- Church! You must recant your errors, and do what we have advised you, else a fearful trial awaits you, one .which wrings the heart of those who inflict and witness, as it wrings moans of agony from those who suffer {" . . "i Father,-if I have erred, I am sor- ry, but I have nothing to say against poor Ursula. Oh, do let her and me go, we will not speak against the Church, indeed we will not." 'We shall not give you the chance, foolish child. Our walls enclose your home'or your 'tomb-you have heard Dme-now depart, an half hour is given for your reply. Again I say be pru- dent, your fate is in your .own hands." CHAPTER XXIL The hour wlich was given to the wretcheld Cecelia for her decision had expired. The Council of seven were seated in their black and solemn con- clave as before. At a signal from the Chief, Cecelia was brought in. ,Her pale cheek and reddened eyes, tearful still, showed how wretchedly she felt. Her frail form was so weak, that the arm of the attendant was required to keep her froni falling. "Have you considered and made ready your reply?" asked the Chief of the girl. "Oh holy father, I know not what to say. I amn no heretic. I believe in the Church, but I cannot say anything against poor Ursula!" "What will she 'do?" "She will be firm in all she has said and done! holy father I have tried to get her to yield to a part of your de- mlands, but she refuses, and trusts to GoD only for aid!" "GoD will never aid a heretic! Let her be brought forth. She' shall see what we can do to convince her of her error, and to persuade her to return to her duty. Remove the. Sister Cecelia.: Bring in Ursula." It was done-again poor helpless Ur- suhl stood before her masked, stone- hearted judges. i "(Have you considered?" asked the I Chief. . "I have," she replied, firmly. -"Your answer?" "Is that I have done no wrong, and that while I live I will maintain all that I have said-all that I have done- 'and once more I pray to be released. I will even promise never to reveal the cruel treatment which I have suffered." "i You are very kind in your promises, but we do not need their fulfillnent- we never let apostate heretics have a chance to betray us. Y-ou choose to be stubborn, your spirit is proud, but we have power to make it bend!" A faint, sad, smile passed over her pallid face, but she mafde no reply. The Chief again rung his bell. A curtain on the right of the table was rolled up, and there amid all the horrid pharna- phelia of 'torture stood a man whose face was also masked. He was dressed in tight-fitting garments of blood red; but there were dark spots upon them which resembled the 'stain's of blood, And such they were. IIc stood in front of a huge wheel which had jagged points and beams and rollers, through which the body when place,d upon the rack is forced to pass. There was a cauldron with blazing coals beneath it, and lead to melt, piled up by its side. There were iron pincers standing near a glow. ing furnace; there were cords and pul. lies, and other of the dreadful ornament of the Inquisition. page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] Ursula shuddered as she saw these these things. The chief noted this and spoke in a milder tone than before. "' Ursula, there is yet time left to comply with our demands!" ( Holy God help me-I will be true to THEEE and to myself l" she murmur- ed, raising her eyes toward Heaven and clasping her thin white hands together. At a sign from the chief, the attend- ants led Ursula unresistingly to the side of the room where the execution- er stood. "What torture?" asked the execu- tioner. "The thumb screw first i" replied -the chief. In an instant the wretched girl was seated in an iron chair, to which she was bound immoveably. Then the ex- ecutioner took one of her small, deli- cate hands in his, and placed it in a. vice, which was fastened to the side or arm of the chair. This he turned with a screw until she could not withdraw it,. and the heightning flush on her face told how terrible was the pain. "Ursula-do not force us to further extremeties--you see what awaits you." "Jesus, save me, or give me strength to bear all for thy sake," she nmurmur- ed. At a sign from the Chief, the execu- tioner slowly turned the screw. The poor girl writhed in pain, but spoke not. Still more close hoe turned the cruel vice-her face now turned pale again-the blood gushed from beneath the nail, but she spoke not, did not even weep. Closer still the wretch turned the screw-a moment more and the crushing sound of the breaking bone was heard -ste heard it notfor she had fainted I And this was in AMERICA. Water was used to restore her and her hand was released from the vice. As soon as she recovered the Chief again addressed her: "Weak, foolish girl, think not that you have the resolution to endure all that we can inflict; yield before it is too late!" "'Never, monster, never! Do 'your worst now-I am better prepared to die than you are!" she replied. "Ah, even more obstinate than ever. Tear the dress from her shoulders, re- veal her cherished beauties to' our gaze, and then so mark her that all may know that she has been a Catholic!" . In a moment her shrieking,shuddering form was bared to the waist, and then taking a red hot iron from the furnace, the heartless executioner drew a cross upon her naked breast. The shrinking- hissing flesh seethed and shrivelled be neath the iron; yet she did not murmur -she bore it-God had listened to, hei prayer!' '- Rash girl, -must we extend your lovely limbs upon the rack, break each bone and rend limb from limb assun- der?" "Be merciful.. Kill me as soon as possible-I am ready to die!" she said faintly. ' No, vile apostate, no! If you think thus to conquer us you are mistaken.. We will crush your proud spirit--you shall not conquer us! Drag out her- hair by the roots!" Horrible as it seemed this was obey- ed. When the hellish savage dragged the heavy tresses from her head it seem- ed as if he would tear her head from her neck, but soon again she was insensible to torture. "We are too rough, Something more delicate, yet even more painful. Try the torture-by water, and while she en- joys it, we will go and dine. If she seems disposed to relent call me!" The torture by water was then. ap- plied. The head of the poor girl was fastened so that she could not move it, slightly thrown back, and from a cis- tern above her head a plug removed which allowed only one large drop at a time to drop upon her skull. These drops fell at intervals of ten seconds. After seeing this prepared, the Coun- cil of Seven adjourned, leavingthe help. less creature with the executioner and attendants. For a little while she bore it patiently, but soon she began to feel the effects of this, the most effectual -and terrible of all tortures. At first her agony showed itself in the altera- tion of her face, then in the writhing of her form, so far as she could move it, r and then in the tears which, thoughshe s spoke not, coursed down her cheek.. Still drop by drop the water fell, f and at last low moans came from her lips. Meantime the heartless attend- E ants calmly gazed upon her agonies.- Time passed on. "Oh, God save me t from this terrible pain," she shrieked. t "They are crushing my brain, piercing 1 it with ten thousand rods of heated iron. I cannot endure it! Oh, ifyou e are men release me, or kill me!" e The torture continued, now the 'shrieked and raved. The "Seven " F again entered the room. At a Sign sl from the Chief, the torture was suspend- ed, but her wild shrieks' and rayings of did not cease. Oh' fearful were her al cries and imprecations, terrible her w shrieks, but all as incoherent as they tu were wild. Her spirit had not been conquered, but her mind was gone, she was a maniac 1' " 5 of y "Now bring the Sister Cecelia in n- Let us see if this sight will not bring he her to her senses t". said the' Chief. When she was brought in Cecelia p- screamed with terror, as she' saw the Is scarred, mutilated form of her friend, t, and heard her fearful ravings. She s- rushed to her side, calledher, by name, d but the poor sufferer knew her not. a "Oh, my God, what is this?" she e said. "The fate which awaits you if you l' contiuue to treat us with contumely." "Oh my God, preserve me!" she' murmured as she closed her eyes from e the shocking sight. "Remove Ursula to her cell!" con- tinued the Chief. t After the wretched Victim was car- - ried screaming, struggling, and literaly f foaming at the mouth, from the apart- X ment, the Chief turned to Cecelia who stood horror struck, gazing at the exe- cutioner and his fearful implements, and , said:- r "The time has come for your an- swer!" "Oh I will do anything, say any. thing, be anything, but do not let that terrible man touch me-do not torture me, do not make me suffer as she has!" "Do you retract your errors, acknowl- edge the Church and pray to be admit. ed back to your convent ?" "Yes, oh any where but here. Holy Father, oh do take me from herel I shall die soon if you do not!" ("No, dauhter, restored to the light of the Church, to a 'sense of your duty and to a remembrance of yourvows, you will yet be happy! You shall be re turned to your convent this night 1" "And poor Ursula?" "No, of her you must think no more; of her you must never speak againnot to page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] a livingsoul She is dead to the world Her cursed heresies led your innocent heart astray; you should hate, not love her, detest, not pity her. She has suf- , fered, but it was for'that mortal sin, for heresy I Remember her fate and hence,- forth try to redeem the grievous faults you have committed. Be obedient to your superiors; be often seen in the con- fessional, and you will yet attain the po.. sition you once held. But above all, think no aore, say no more of Ursula "' "Poor girl, she had a kind heart!" eaid the girl to herself. Some of our readers may think that the torture scenes in the foregoing chapter are only drawn-that such things can.. not exist in our midst.. But let them look back to the thousands of authen- ticated records of Catholic and Jesuit cruelty, far more strongly painted than these, and by the pen, not of fiction, but of Truth! Let them read the historyof the Mar- tyrs-let them read the history of the Inquisition, and the Catholic accounts of the buIning of heretics, .of crucify. ing them, of impaling them alive on poles, of broiling them over slow fires; read the accounts where they glory in these tQlnml I And then consider that these same Catholics and Jesuits have Convents, Monasteries, Colleges, vast and secret- vaulted Churches, into which Protest- ants can never gain voluntary admis. sion. We cannot rend all these se- crets asunder; we cannot tear the veil from all their mysteries, but once in a while an escaped nun, or a priest, brave' enough to cast off their chains, tell us of things as terrible as all that I have written. We know what they even have been elsewhere, we ought to suspect what are here. They are gaining power, and be- coming bolder every day. Is it not time, Protestants of every land-isnit not time that Americans sought espe- cially to penetrate these dreaded mys- teries. Yes it is, and if God spares my life, I never will rests while a Jesuit Mystery exists unveiled in our land. Others may sleep, but I will not until the cursed vipers are dug out of their dens and sent to a warmer climate than this. WAR, WAR, with enemies of the lib- erty of my country is my cry, my only cry, and may my tongue rot when I say PEiACE CHAPTER XXIII. A family scene and a family group Gmrits was at her duty in the nursery of Mr. Mortimer Bennett. The chil- dren, with the exception of the little pet, Annie, had books in their hands, and were intently engaged in their studies. The little one had a large card of illustrated alphabetical letters on the carpet before her, and was en- gaged in looking at the pictures, and trying to remember the names of the letters which her kind governess had repeatedly told her. And there was still another person in that room, and that person was not the mother of those children. It was Mr. Mortimer Bennett himself. He had called, as he said, to ask how the children were getting along, but I think that his call had been prompted more bya desire to see the governess than the children. In reply to his question, Genita said: "The children are getting on finely sir. -Kate has taken her third lesson in music and French, Amelia is doing well in geography and writing, and. my sweet little pet there knows nearly all her letters, although she can scarcely lisp their names." , "Is, Pappa-dere's O for Owl-see X dem great eyes-and dere's B for but- terfly-see -the little bird, Pappa!" a "Come and kiss me, my sweet child," r said Bennett, taking his eyes off from l Genita for a moment, to gaze upon his youngest born. The little one leaped gladly into its father's arms, and catching his face in her chubby little hands, kissed him as only a child CAN kiss. "How happy it is to be a father," he said to Genita. "Yes, it must -be, when you have such sweet, affectionate children round you," she replied. "And a? mother-to be a mother must be a double happiness, for the babe's affection ever leans more toward the mother than the father. By. the way, Miss Genita, as I have gazed upon your beauty, noticed your many ac- complishments, I have wondered why you, now in the bloom of life, lovely in feature and peerless in form, did not get married!" "Ah, sir, while you flatteringly speak of my beauty, you forget that I am a friendless, portionless orphan!" "Portionless? You are a fortune in yourself, Miss C-enita. Forgive me for speaking so warmly, but were I single, "Bo careful, Mr. Bennett," said Ge- nita, with a warning look, "Kate is not too young to notice things, or carry news!" " True, angelic woman, true-but ca" we never meet alone?" added Mr. Ben. nett, in a tone too low for the child to hear: "I have many things to say to page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] you; I need a friend, a true friend, to sympathise with me." "Your wife, sir!" "Her heart, Genita-excuse me,Miss Genita, I should say, is as cold as ice. I find no sympathy with her. She is my wife, wedded by the forms of man, but heaven never linked us I I do not believe in that marriage which is not sanctioned by heaven in the union of hearts. Man can link hands, but God unites hearts."' "That is true-but Mr. Bennett it is wrong that I should listen to such con- versation. ' What can you think of one whom you have selected to educate your daughters, who would listen to words of flattery from their father, when his words of kindness and affec- tion are due only to' their mother What can you think of me?" Only think you are an angel of goodness and beauty, Genita: Forgive me,.I feel a deep interest in you. You said that you were a portionless or- phan. Never say portionless or friend- less aga:n, for I can lay a fortune at your feet. Never shall wish of your's on earth be uftgratified, and in return I only ask---." ' "What Sir?" asked Genitia, as the crimson color rose to her. brow. "Only your friendship, fair girl!" "Friendship has many meanings"' she said. "Sometimes it is selfish; sometimes disinterested-sometimes it is pure, again it is rooted in the hot-bed of passion. I always wish to deserve friendship, but only that which is pure and noble." '- And such I give you, Genita. Oh angel, every word that you utter only attaches me the more to you i" "Be careful Mr. Bennet-Kate is i, * ., listening to us, and it is wrong for me to hear such vows:!" ("Not when you' understand me," said Bennet, lowering his voice. "Can we not meet elsewhere-ride out with me-say your head aches, for an excuse. ,I know you need exercise." Genita paused ere she replied. Both her heart and good sense bade her deny his request, but she had been sent into that family to fulfil the orders of her society, to win wife and children unto them, to separate the father and the husband from his nearest ties. She had a duty to perform, and to one so naturally good, it was a revolting one. Besides a feeling had grown upon her heart, a still quiet yearning which she could not define. Yet it was a feeling closely akin to love for aniother, for a being to whom she could look up to, and did look up to as her superior in mind and in person. No woman can lovethe man she looks down upon! Born weaker, even far more beautiful in frame; with feelings more sensitive, re-' fined and timid. She looks up to the strong-formed bold-hearted, impulsive man as a protector and a shield, and as such gives to him her warm, pure, true love. For whom Genita had contracted feelings of reverence closely akin to love, it is for the reader to guess! As most of my readers are "Yankees', they can undoubtedly solve the ques- tion, If they can they're ahead of me for I do not know as yet. As I said before, Genitia paused a moment or two before she replied to Mr. Bennetts invitation; then she an- swered : "I will go on one condition!" "And what is that?" "That you do not speak of love!- Mr. Bennett I respect you very much- I even deply sympathise with you in your sad heartedness, but we must not think of love-must not speak of it!" "I will try and not do so-I cannot restrain my thoughts, but I will. endeav- or to curb my speech 1" Mr. Montimer Bennett now arose and left the nursery, casting one last word- speaking look upou Genita as he left.- One aim oftheSOCIETY was gained--his heart was alienated from her whom he had sworn to love and obey, and he had giwn xi Aoul to another page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] OHAPTER XXVI. It was a cold, wet, nasty night; such a night as induces policemen to exaz- ine liquor shops, and officially keep an eye upon those who enter, no matter what is going on outside. And yet Kitty the " hot corn girl " shrilly sung her cry by thy eastern side of the Park. And many a tired and shivering child, and others fully grown, passed by her, smelling the savory steam of her hot corn, and though they were hungry they did not pause, for they had not the mon- ey to buy of her. Oh how many silent hungry ones there are, who pass along our streets, not clamoring, philosophical beggars, but poor unfortunates who cannot get employment and are too proud to beg. But this is not my sto- ry-excuse digressions, I cannot avoid them once in a while, for any one who knows New York as I do, must think and feel too when he regards the thous- ands who suffer while the few live in wasteful luxury. On this same cold, unpleasant night a woman, rapped in an old torn cloak, a part of which she drew over her head so that it shaded her features, sat upon one of the stones in which the iron rail- ing is fixed, near the corner of Cham- bers street. From beneath her cloak a thin, pale 'hand was extended, mutely imploring, (for hands can speak as well in distress as they can inlove,) for alms wherewith to feed the wasted body of which it was a member. A thin small hand upon which jewels had once glit- tered, which had given gold to the poor, was now stretched .out to receive the coppers which occasionally a few and far between," fell therein. The time was between eight and nine, and a constant tide of human beings flowed past the poor woman. And, where he was drifting to, we know not, but the tall stately form of Father Al- exander, was seen among them. He saw the small imploring hand and drop- ped a piece of silver in. "Dios te gratia!" murmured the wo- man. "Ah-that voice again!" said the Priest turning back. "Are you not an Italian!" "Yes noble Signor," she replied. "You were not always poor-why are you here? . You do not speak like a beggar!" "No Signior, I was not always such. But I am poor, I can get no work. I must beg or perish, and I do not want to die until I see him for whom I came to this country, so far from my native land!" "You came to seek some one you say?" "Yes Signior, my first and only love. lie -was banished to this country for his love for me. And for long weary years I have sought him. Ah me-if I could see him but once and tell him that I have ever lived true to him, his once and his forever. I could die even here in the street and die happy!" "- What was his name? Perhaps I can aid you in your search!" ( Alessandro Bettini!" "Alessandro Bethini?-woman what is your name?" "It was Constanza de Casali, but here' I am only known as a poor beggar woman, and I have no name!" "Constanza? No-it is false-come hither to the light, letme look uponyou!" cried the Priest, seizing her by the hand, unheeding that she dropped the silver he had given her, and leading her to the lamp near by. Then gazing in her face, he drew forth the miniature which he always wore next to his heart, he looked one momnent at it, and then at her. "My God, how changed, and yet it is her! The heart is all unchanged!" he murmured: She heard him not, and though the arm of the haughty Priest was clasped around her, she felt not the embrace, for she had recognized tim and lainted. A crowd was. gathering around, but they did not understand the strange scene, and Father Alexander called to a passing hackmnan, and remarking that it was aL sick woman, whom he would attend to the hospital, lifted her in, and giving a direction to the driver, was hurried away froln the scene. It was after midnight. In a beauti- fully furlnished room, heated by a glow- ing fire, upon a sofa of crimson velvet, sat a pale thin woman, but she was ele- gantly clad. Her cheeks were wasted, her large brilliant black eyes were set back in darkened sockets. Her hands were thin and wasted-her form wore the appearance of one reduced by want almost to a skeleton. Yet al1 around i her looked like wealth. How could that be accounted for? Only by the I fart that this was Constanza de Casili, who but a few hours before was seen a faimishing beggar onil the street. Food t and wine had refreshed her, good cloth- ing had been placed upon her emaciated t form. She who had been reared in lux- r ury, and reduced to abject Iniscry, had again founld a heart and a home. The priest entered the room, and in a moment his arms were clasped around his long-lost but rew-found prize. Ad as in the days of their early love, tho her lips were pale and thin, his met hers in fond, kind kisses. He did not look at the silvery thread in her hair, he did not see the wrinkles on her: brow, or note her hollow cheeks ' he remembered the Constanza of his early love, and she again was as in her spring-time of life, before hil, by his side a fond, loving, cherished bride. Whlo says that love can die? True, love never perishes! Like the ever. green, it is brightest in the winter, and it does not perish until the axe in the hand of the remorseless woodman, DEATH, cuts it down. "Constanza," said the priest, seating himself by her side, "I want you 'to tell me all that happened after that ter rible hour when we were separated." "Allcssandro, it would take weeks- but I amn too .happy now .to tell you all that I have suffered."' "Our child-does it live?" "I know not-I saw it, heard its first wailing, cry, and then it was torn from tme-I have never seen it since. Only a webk later, and mny poor fathier was assassinated. A will was found, but he had left all to the church. They tried to have me enter a convent, but I would not. I sold the last jewels I had page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] and I came to America. For years I have struggled to support myself-I would have died but a spirit in my dreams'told me that you yet lived, and that I must live to meet you!"* "You have. my Constanza, and tho' I am a priest, vowed to celibacy, yet you are my wife in the sight of God. Tho' our dream of youth is over, yet we will ever be near each other. But another question. Was our child torn from your bosom by your father?" - "I know not. It was snatched from my arms by a woman, and I never saw it more. I was helpless on my couch when the cruel deed was done!". "Was itfa boy?" "No, a girl, and it had such marks as you saw upon me when last we were together. Her little back had scars as if she had been sco'urged as I was by the dreadful Inquisitors!" "Do not recall that memory! It has haunted me ever since. I belong to the church; but I hate it Ambition and a desire for vengeance alone has kept me coupled with it, for I was told that' you were dead! But you live and I will yet have vengeance for our wrongs. Oh that I could learn that our child lived, then I would be happy!" "And Hbut, Allessandro, will not the Inquisitors learn that we have met and renew their persecutions?" "No, for I am one of them now, and I shall preserve the secret. This house- hold is my own, but we must so live and so act' before the servitors that our secret is -not revealed. They must be- lieve you to be a devout and pious wo- man, whom I found suffering, and to whom I have given a home. In the mean time I will endeavor through agents at Rome to discover what was done with our child l" "Bless you, my Allessandro-7years of sorow are forgotten in this moment of happiness. I am thine, do as you please with me. I would rather act as a servant in your house than live in a palace away from you, CHAPTER XXV. Father Alexander was seated in con- ference with His Eminence, the Jesuit Provincial Master General of the Uni- ted States. And what was the cause of that secret conference? It could not be that such holy persons were conspir- ing to deprive the free children of a Protestant country of the Bible of their fathers, the Holy Bible which was read on Plymouth Rock, when those fathers landed; read in the Camp of WASH- INGTO;N? Judge from their conver- sation, what they were doing: "If we cannot crush this principle of having such works as the Protestant Bible and the History of the United States read in the godless schools, we never can: make this Country Cath- olic 1" ' But why must we expel the Histo- ry of the United States, your Emi- nence?" Because it is a dangerous work--it speaks of the education of Washington, of his praying in Camp-it is the his- tory of the successes of heretics-of I Greene the Quaker, of Montgomery the ( Protestant who was ope of the accursed i who dared, though born in the land j of St. Patrick to deny the power and s supremacy of the Church, a man as e heretical as the Orange-men are, of La- 1 fayette, who said that Roman Catholic r Priests would destroy this government 1 if ever it was destroyed, of Putnam, of n Sohuyler, of Warren, of Champe; all,o ' Protestants whom these heretics hold L up to their children as examples. If * Arnold had only been a Protestant, how much his disgraced memory would help ; us. But he was one of us, secretly em- ployed by us, for then it was our policy to continue the war and even let Eng- land, through us, succeed, so that we could again restore the policy of our Sainted Queen Mary and keep Ireland in our grasp. But that failed and it is our policy to crush every memory in this land of Protestant success!" "Yes, your Eminence is right. But how can it be done?" "By electing enough of our men to the Next Legislature to crush the odi- ous school law, and to give us the con- trol of the School Fund-next to elect one of our own order to the office of Governor, so that hecan veto any bill that is not to our interest I!" "It will require means to do this?! "Well have we not control of over, seventeen millions of dollars? If our members in the employ of Government do their duty, we will have seven or eight millions more of the spoils saved from this heretical Government. With so much money, we ought, had we the enterprise of Loyala,to revolutionise the land, drive out the heretics, plant the red banner of the cross arid make the land wholly Catholic. Why should we not do it? Were this land once wholly, ours, peopled entirely by Catholics, with page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] all its immense resources we could make a holy war upon all the Protestant world and sweep the heretics from the face of the earth!" "It is true!" said the Father Alex- ander, and as he thought of the vast power that a Pope, then would havehijs heart burned with ambitious fire, for he had before thought that such a post was not beyond his reach. 'i But," he continued, " do you be- lieve that the people of this land will ever permit a change in Govern- ment?" "They must permit it! If we get the offices and hold their forts and pris;- ons; have funds to buy the presses which can in a measure sway public opinion, import all the true and faith- fui from the old world, arm and organ- ize them, what is there to prevent our succeeding? It is true that it must be done by blood-shed and revolution.-- But by such we have kept France Cath- olic, by such we have saved Rome, by such we hlave drove the heretic Huge- nots and Waldenses fronr their lands by such we have made Kings and Ema. perors and have unmade them-mwe can conquer here I Didnot Mahomet spread his religion by the sword? I care not if flame and fire arise in every city, vil- lage and hamlet in the land, and if its rivers run red with blood. if thus we can wash out the dark stain of heresy. I know we can do this, if we follow the precepts and policy of St. Ignatius and then, when our holy Lord Pope Pius is called home to heaven, if I should be selected to fill his place, you Father Alexander shall wear the scarlet hat of a Cardinal!" Thankls, your Eminence, I will ever aid in the advancement -of our Holy Church!" said the priest smiling. k A good observer of human nature would have interpreted from that smile more than the mere exreession of pleas- ure. Allesandro Bettini so long sepe. rated from all other love had learned to live for, hope for, work for power. Yet, when you read the next chapter, though ha had found his first love, in- constant as man almost always is, you will learn that the;re was yet, enough of the ordinary, passionate human in him to make him, appreciatinig beauty, yield to other attractions' and almost forget. his ambitious aims. "I well know your zeal!" said His Eminence. "But we have other points to consider. How does that infamous heretic Carrol get along?" "He is troublesome as ever. But we know his plans--he studies out and writes his speeches-I have a list of his entire library and have had several works in troduced into it, that will mislead him on important points. And when through him we learn the points'of his party and their aim, it will be an easy thing to put her out of the way." "Yes. and his daughter---" "Will inherit all his property. and we will have her prepared to join us with all she has!" "That is good news. How is it with the Bennot family, There is a large property there at stake if we can ever get it." "We are sure of it. Sister Genita is doing her duty, nobly. I shall see her this afternoon, and will then report to you!" "And our new friend and employee, Smith'?" "i Has agreed for five hundred dollars to carry out our wishes!" "Can we not buy the Herald too?' No--its Proprietor says that he never again will use his power to crush a single man-that he fights only against coalitions-he cannot be bought, but there are other papers that can be 1" "Yes, and their influence is worse than worthless, if such a thing can be. We cannot afford to spend money upon them!" "True, but I am detaining your Eminence-- will retire and proce4 to my duties i" page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] CHAPTER XXVI. Father Alexander was in his room, again pacing to and fro, soliloquising as we have before described him. And, as before, he was wating for the ap- pointed visit ot Sister Genita, who was coming to report her progress in 'tthe family of Mr. Mortimer Bennett. She came, and as her gentle knock-at the door betokened her presence, his face flushed up in a crimson blush.-- And yet, not ten minutes before, his arms had been clasped around the neck of Oonstanza, his first love.- She en- tered the room, beautiful as we ever de- scrib'ed her; yes, more beautiful, for she was dressed with great care. Her dark hair was arranged in- Grecian style, her pale, lily white cheeks were, flushed either with the exercise of walk- ing, ,or a strange excitement as she came into the' presense of a man who possessed a singular, undefinable influ- ence over her. "Father Alexander pardon me if I have detained you," she said--"I have hurried' away from my charge as early as I could, without fear of being follow- ed and discovered. Mr. Bennet has i formed a wild, foolish attachment for me, which causes him to follow, or at ' least to try to follow every footstep 1 that I take. If I chose I could get ' him to elope with me in an hour. He has already hinted at it, spoken of far i off lands to which he wished to take x me!" . And have you listened to him-the ; vile heretic?" , "Listened, as you know Father Al- exander, but not acceded to his wishes. sI am but obeying my instructions." "Right, Genita, but I tremble lest your heart leads you to go too far. The heart is a treacherous thing, it too often betrays itself. Many a woman who believes her heart entirely under her mind's control, loses it ere she is aware, and in loves wild passions-votex is en- gulphed!" "Fear not for me Father Alexander, I shall never love." "And yet why that sigh, Genita?" "Ah Sir, sighs often come unbidden} we know not why.! "And yet your flushed cheek and heaving bosom prove that your heart does'not rest amid the chilling snows of a wintry breast., Yes, Genita, you were formed to love and be loved-it -was a cruel thing to bind thee to vows of eternal celibacy!" "Father Alexander i" "I do not wonder Genita that you are surprised at such sentiments from one of the fathers of the Church, but worldly feelings will overcome our bet- ter judgement, and when I gaze upon your supernatural beauty, and listen to your melodious voice I feel myself for- getting duty and all else but thee-for- getting my religion, my ambition and feeling as if I could resign the eternal heaven above for a brief life of heaven below with thee!" The maiden made no reply. Her eyes were down-cast, but her bosom rose and fell tumultuously, and the color on her cheeks grew red as carnation.. "I know that these thoughts are sac. religious,', continued the Father, "' but in vain have I tried to restrain them- I have' prayed to God to still them, have tried to avoid the temptation but I cannot. I only know that I love, you Genita, madly, devotedly love you!' The Priest advanced to her side, he clasped her hand in his own-she did not attempt to withdraw it. One mo- ment he gazed in her face, looked down upon her spotless glowing neck and shoulders-then' his arm stole Around her waist, and he pressed her trembling form to his heaving breast and imprint- ed a burning kiss upon her lips, a long passionate kiss. She trembled, more wildly, like lilies on a storm-stirred lake her bosom rose and fell, but she did not chide him. "Angel, angel," he murmured--the good God who permits such pamions to enter the human heart, and who looks down upon my more than heavenly bliss, as thus I strain theeto my beat- ing heart, cannot make such love a sin. Oh, if this is sin, let me live and die a sinner! Oh, Genita, if I could only win your love, I would renounce my vows, and go far off in the beautiful CWest, where I could live only for thee! Spots there are, where I hlave been, as- beautiful as Paradise, where the white man never treads, where only the free sons of the forest roam in their vative grandeur and purity-there, with thee, I could form a heaven of our own. Oh, Genita can I not win thy love?" I n She looked up at him-tears stood lustrous as dew in her great black eyes, r but those eyes did not reproach him. e Again he madly pressed his lips to hers, I and all as wildly she returned the exs- tactic kiss, and ,bursting into tears or joy, not of sorrow, she sunk upon his ; breast, At that moment a footstep was heard, ,and a hand was laid upon the door t knob. Ah--.if there was no guilt or wrong a 111heir love why did they spring palo * and trembling to their feet? Did they lfear the terrors of the Inquisition, and could that terror. in an instant freeze 'the wild volcanic passions of their hearts? For a moment, both of them stood in silence. Then Genita spoke. Oh, Father Alexander, if our love has been discovered and is reported to His Eminence, what would we do?" "Fly to a Western home-give up the Church, and defy its power V' "But the Inquisition is as powerfil here as it is at Rome, I have heard, and its emmissaries are everywhere!" "They will not find our abode, for I know well how to evade them!" , My heart is thine, I will do thy bidding, but God forgive nme if in this I commit a mortal sin, who will give' nme -absolution?" "The -same good God wlio permits the sin., Genita, forget all but the bliss of loving and of being loved. Fear 'notfor danger, for, I will guard the1. At present remain in the Bennctt fam- ily, pursue your duties -as usual and 1 will cautiously prepare for our flight. Let your visits here be not too frequent now, when and where we can meet safe. ly; I will contrive. And now veil your- page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] self closely and depart, but one fond kiss before you go!" Again breast to breast, and lip to lip were prssed--and then, the Priest was alone. For a time lhe stood in silent thought, tlhen thus soliloquised: "Poor (Jonstanza! How I have. forgotten} thee--but thou art not what thou wast when first I loved thee-Genita is. W\'ere lht;re no Gcteita, then would I love thee sth, but my heart is full aof L JIL' V JU I U 1X 'but one thing, and that is her I Who could it have been that interrupted us? I hope it was not her, it could not be, for I have forbidden her to come to my apartments unbidden. . I will go and question her!" - "A; few moments later, the Priesr stood in the room which had been con- signed to Constanza. She wM not there I CHAPTER XXVI. IN the parlor of a large, fashionable building in a central part of the city, sat a white-haired gentleman, of sixty years or thereibouts. The elegant fur- ' niture of the house betokened the wealth of its occupIants. There weore. two persons in the room besido the gentleman, two young and beautiful girls. Boti were clad in deep mourning, tand the gloom settled on all their faces, betokened that they had met with a recent bereavement. The eldest-of the girls was reading aloud- reading Bryant's "Thanatopsis," one of the most beautiful poems in the Eng- lish languace. She, was interrupted by a servant, who entered, aind addressing the gentle- man, said: "Sir, there.'s a man at the door who says he wants to see .you on very im- portant business!" "Who is he?'" "Iie did not give any name, sir, but 3 he is rather a rough looking man, looks 1 like a firenian, he wears a red shirt like c them!" "What can such a man want with tme ?' i - , "I do not know, sir, ho merely said he wanted tofsee you on very particular t business, and had no time to spare!" t ' Well, show him into' the library, I will see him there in a few minutes " d "Oh, pappa," said the youngest lady, why do you not have him called in here. I have heard .o mueh about thoc v 11- - " lant firemen, I want to see and hear one talk i" "Well, bring him in here, then!" The individual who was soon after ushered in, was lone other than our old friend Oby, of the gallant " 13's." , He seemed -a litt!le abashed when he saw the ladies, for his flce was yet in '"mourning" for its recent illrtreatment at the hands of the Greeks. "Your name is Mr O'Sullivan, is it not, sir," said Oby, taking the seat wlhich the servant proffered. "Yes, my friend," replied the gentle. man, :"you seem to have met with ill- 'treatment lately!'- ".Yes, sir, and it was got in trying to serve you!" "In trying to serve me? How so? Explain yourself." "I will, sir, but it is a pretty long story, and time may be as precious to you as it is to me. I was-bringing a letter to ydu when two Greeks tackled on to me, and pretty nearly killed me, and got the letter away!" "Who was the letter from? This is a strange mystery."?' "You've got at daughter in one of them Catholic convents, or scllools up- town, haven't you, sir?" "We had, but alas poor thing she is dead " "Have you seen her' body, sir?" "No, but she died of that terrible :.scarpe he mall]]-c x\-. ':,1,J hard tc IAe page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] burried hurridly and privately, for fear that others might catch the contagion!" "I reckon they've been gammoning you. sir, for the letter I had was from her, stating that she was -kept in a dun- geon because she wished to leave the convent, and turn Protestant, and it. begged the first one that picked -it up to, carry it to you, so that you could come and get her out!" "How did you get this letter?" "It was dropped out of a window of the convent, and me and Hicksy, one of our Company, picked - it up-a fellow dressed in black tried to get it from us then, but he couldn't come it, I started to bring it to you, myself, but a couple. of thievin' Greeks picked a muss with me, knocked me down with a club, and took the letter from me, and my 'watch and change too!" "If this be true, your losses shall be generously rewarded!" "If its true, Mr. O'Sulivan? Look here Sir, I can bear anything but hav- ing my word doubted. I may look 1 rough, but the rihelst man in the world f mus'nt call me a liar! Everbody that, I know s me, will say that' I never lie. " "I did not mean to wound your feel- ings, my friend-- only the matter seems I so strange, and I have the word of her n confessor of the lady Superior, that she is dead--see here are her sisters dressed in mourning for her I How long is it n since you got the ietter?" i "-Three nights ago! I've been laid up ever since, and Hicksey couldn't re- a member the number before. But I did. fi How could' I have known where to find i you, or your name, or that your daugh- ter's name was Sister Cecilia, if I hadu't got the letter?" sc tl ar "That is true-I think there's some- !" thing very wrong in this mystery. But ug what can I: do? What would you ad- vise me to do, young man?" n- "Why Sir, I'd get a good strong bo. Ic ly of Police-Americans if you 'can it find 'em, for they can be depended on lp and the Catholic Greeks can't, and go Id and search the crib from top to bottom, If 'them can't show you the girl alive, I'd force them to show her body 1" f "I believe you are right." replied Mr. :. O'Sulivan, then'noticing that the ser- w ratt had remained in the room listening Is intently to the conversation, he asked d sharply-"What are you waiting for, sir?" 1 "I didn't know but you wanted me, Sir," replied the man with evident con- fusion. "* Begone to your place sir, and keep your tongue still about what you have. e heard, if you do not wish .te be dis- charfged!" "e If that fellow is a Catholic hl's a spy, Sir," 'said Oby, after the servant ; had left. "I was watching closely be- { fore you spoke to him, and I didn't like i his looks no way." "I've always had my suspicions of him, Papa,"- said the eldest daughter. He is ever prying around where he has no business." "He shall be discharged at once, and you, my young friend shall be liberally rewarded-I must get you to assist me in this searchl!" "I'll do .that, Sir,' but I don't want any pay for my services; a New York fireman never asks a reward for doing his duty." Oby looked really handsome in spite of his bruised face when he said, this, or so at least the -youngest daughter thought. CHAPTER XXVIII.' When the Father Alexander entered the room which he had assigned to Con- stanz/a, as'was announced in a previous chapter,he did not find her there. He at once Inade enquiries after hler, but no one kneiv where she' had gone--no one had seen her departl When, therefore, the Father. coupled her departure with the inlterruption of his love-scene with Genita lie felt that she must have been the intruder, the witness to his intention to break his monastic vow. And when he thought of this, his next question was, "if she has discovered my new 'love, what will she do? Denounce me? No she dare notl Will 'she in anger leave my roof and again become a beg- gar exposed to the pitiless storm of the world's sapless wilderness? God forbid! Or in wretchedness and despair, lilke nmany a poor outcast, will she cast away c the life which sems to have been gived 1 to her like a burden to wear, cast iti off 1 beceause spirit and body are too weak to s "bear a load so wearisome. I have wronged her-God bforgiyve me-I have s Wronged herl Were she what she ! was whlen once I loved her with a young 1 heart's devotion, I yet should be faith- t fi' ul,ut Genita, fond, beautiful and trusting, stands between us. Oh how f doubly am I sinning in deserting' thee s add forgetting my vows, duty to God fi and the Churchl", Td 'he Father, having in vain sought! i- Conlstanlza, tnrough the house' despatch- s ed a faitlhful spy of'the Order in search e of her, for the thought would not be o erased, that she had been the witness to e his interview with GOenita. , And she was, She had not heard i his vows of love, nor his promise to go i with Genita to a far-off Western home i where a paradise might be "fenced in,' n .even in the wilderness, but she had seen him clasping the lovely girl's form to his breast, seen lip pressed to lip, heard the low murmurs of happy love, and she knew that she was forgottenl' Yes, forgotten I oh, how hard it is to be forgotten, to be forgotten by one . whom you have worshipped-one you !have loved with your whole soul, your whole heart, whom in spite of God's commands you have made an idol of, rearing in your heart an altar, and thereon laying your life's blood for a sacrifice I It is hard I Constanza saw .it. She did not shriek, she made no outcry. She had gone to that room, yearning only to l press her lips to his, to recall a memory , of the past. But when. she saw him pressing Genita to his bosom, her heart froze. Worn already by the merciless storms of life, it was soft to the cold frost of new troubles. She looked but one look, saw all, and hastened to her page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] room. For what? Woman's brain is ever fertile. It was but the work of a moment, for her to tear off her comfor- table garments, to robe herself in the beggars garb, which like rags had been thrown down in a' closet adjoining her room, when she assumed her other dress. And thus habited, she passed out, un- noticed by the servants, and waited for her who had stepped in between her and Allessandro, the loved of a whole life- time, the object. of her very existence, him for whom she had abandoned luxu- ry, native land, everything. And for what did she wait? What' did she in her wretchedness and desperation intend to do? Violepce? No, she had no weapon in her hand. The only protec- tion she had was her poverty, and poverty though a curse, for it is attend- ed with hunger and. suffering has one virtue-its possessor is safe from the hand of the robber. A millioniare can be robbed and murdered for his money, but the beggar is safe-he can keep all that God gave him, his life. And when he die%, he has another consolation, hlo not only goes out of the world as richl as he came' into it, bet he carries as much out of it as his wealthy neighbor can. She waited until Genita came out, then she stealthily followed her, follow- ed'through every turn of the streets, until she reached the door of. Mr. Mor- timer Bennett's house. Genita was just ascending the steps, when she heard a plaintive voice asking for alms. She turned, and when she saw the thin form and ragged garments of 'the poor beggar woman, she at once placed her hand down upon the pocket where money ought to be, but where it was not then. " Poor woman," she said, " what can I do for you9?" I "I have no home, I am very hungry!" said the beggar. "Hungry? No home? Come in with me-Mrs. Bennett will not refuse you food, nor a place to rest in!" said Genita. And eagerly, hurridly the beggar woman entered that: house. It was not hunger that hurried her, it was that which in an Italian breast burns ever like the pent up lava in Etna's bosom, it was jealousy and a desire for revenge. Little did Genita dream that she was giving. shelter to a deadly, foe, when in the charity of her heart she asked the poor woman to enter the dwelling of her employer. CHAPTER XXIX. Another, nifht. .It was night when Mr. O'Sullivan, whose suspicions had been aroused by the revelations of Oby i and the corroborating evidence, visited the office of the Chief of Police. There seated in his inner safictum, portly as an Alderman, sat. the dignitary whom I have named. And few men are better known to evil-doers than Geo. W. Mat- sell. For many years he has been at the head of a department which watches over the lives and property of over 500,- O00 people! And though not faultless, still tlhere are few men living who could so well have performed his arduous and responsibl e duties. He has not had thle choosing and appointment of his officers, else from his judgment I would look for manlly imp)rovements; but ihe has done all, yes, more than could be expected from the material' he hlas had to work with. If you' give a mechanic raw ma- terial, and it is not good, you can scarce- ly expect him to make handsome work, Yet a portion of the demagogue-made policemen of our city are raw, and there ks but one fire that, can cook them, and the devil builds it. But around him he has chosen such men as Brown, Leon- ard, .Munn, Norris and Lindsley; men who can ever be depended upon. The few of his own choice are worth a thous- and times more than the mass of those who have been raised out of the gutters by the pot-house politicians. But again I have left the thread of my story. Mr. O'Sullivan, accompanied by Oby, called at the office of the Chief of .Po- lice to procure official assistance. to search for his daughter. The Chief lis- tened to. tIhe stry, and promptly depu- ted an officer, directing him to take sfif- ficient force to over-ave opposition if such should be'offered, "I'd rather have some of B's boys along," said Oby, aft:er they left the Chiefs office. "The firemen are the best sort of police--they're not afraid of' anything, they're used to discipline; and then their hearts are in their bosoms, not in their pockets "' But the officer objected to having anytilling except 1his own force,' and they proceeded to the house. When they arrived at the house which Oby readily pointed but, although Mr. O'Sullivan well knew where it was, the ring at the bell door was answered by a servant girl who asked what was want- ed. Mr. O'Sullivan asked for the. Lady Superior, and was with the others, ush- ered into a parlor. In a short time the lady entered, and recognizing Mr. O'Sullivan, addressed him and asked the reason of his visit. He candidly stated it, and also informed her that he had taken legal advice, and had brought thd proper officers to enforce a ,search. She seemed horrified that he page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] should doubt her word, when she as- sured him that his daughter was dead; but when he firmly insisted upon having the. house .searched, she said that it could be done, but insisted upon' sending first for the Confessor. To this Mr. O'Sullivan and the officer in charge' made no objection, and they remained waiting for him. Nearly a half an hour elapsed before the Reverend Father Confessor arrived. It was not Father Alexander who came-it was a thin small pale-faced man, who looked the very picture of outer sanctity. When the Lady Superior informed him of the cause of the visit of Mr. O'Sullivan, she exchanged a meaning glance with him. He then turned mildly to the party, and addressing Mr. O'Sul- livan, said: "My son, it is sinful for you to doubt that, which, I with lips that have been consecrated to truth, have told you. I buried your child in consecrated ground, and her soul rests in heaven. The masses you requested, and for which you paid, have beenl offered. Do you think we would dare to be so impious as to offer up masses for the repose of the soul of one that is living? Heaven forbid: And my son, the word of this holy h1i- -dy, who as your daughter did, lhas vow- ed her whole life to tacts of piety, should have sufficed you. And again, you had no need to bring a police force, to bring men who are not of our creed within these walls, for had you come alone and insisted upon the search you priopose, we should not have denied you. :My'Son, you have grievously wronged yourself and the holy Church in these matters, but we will pardon you. We are now ready to proceed in the search-every door shall be thrown open to you-- thank God we have nothing to con- ceal." Mr. O'Sullivan had stood abashed and confused during the rebuke of tlhe Priest, althoughl it was given in a tolne so mild and gentle. It was evident tlhat he was under that bigotted and coward1- ly fear which all Catholics have for their Priests;. under that influence' whiich blindly leads them to believe that a maqn is as infallible as the great Jehovahl himself. THe made no reply, however, but when the officers and Oby moved on, he followed. "We had better commence the searclh at the top of the house, and go down!" stid the leading officer. "' As you please," replied the priest. " are at your service : Commenncing at the upper part of the house, they passed through ,all 'tle rooms, but without finding the object of thbeir search. In a large room fitted up as a chapel, with shrines and crosses, the Lady Superior had mustered all of tlhe inmates of her establishment, but among the sad pale faces of those' halp less prisoners ZMr. O'Sullivan could not recognise that of his daughter. But he recognised the face of one whom lie knew to have been her intimate friend. It was the Sister Cecclia. He asked her if Ursula was indeed dead. The eye of the Priest and that of the Lady Superior was fixed upon her counte- nance, she blushed and trembled, but replied: "Alas, yes sirl" "Then I ami satisfied-her bosom friend would not deceive met You need not continue the search further 1" "I am not satisfied," said the chief officer, who had noticed the glance of the Priest, and the Confusion of Cecclia, "but if you say the word, I sliall dis- continue, for the search is made at your request!? "It is useless to search further-I am satisfied that 'she is dead--Heaven rest her soul!" "Amen!" said the Priest. "And of you Holy Father, and of, the Holy Lady Superior, I humbly crave pardon for my sin- of disbelief, and for introducing heretics within your sacred walls to profane your sanctuary!" Oby had been silent until now, but when he heard that term used, his pent up wrath boiled over. "Do you call me a heretic, you d-d old Greek reprobate? Say -but the word again, and I'll knock the hairy teeth down your red throat.'. Here I've borne to be beat 'half to death, and run my legs off, and now you pay me off with abuse. Well, I don't care, that is regular Greek gratitude. The more you do for the cursed breed the more they'll hate you." The Priest and Lady Superior cross- ed themselves in holy horror, and Mr. O'Sullivan stood transfixed in astonish- ment, that a Protestant should dare to ceil e a-Catholic, even there, where they were surrounded by'the idols of their saints. Having said his say, Oby moved off with the officers, and left the building. After they had gone, Mr. O'Sullivan knelt before the Priest and 'begged him to absolve him for the terrible sin he had committed. . i "It has indeed been a 'terrible sin," a said. the Yries--" it has brought a .deep r shame and disgrace upon the Church, given room for scandal that may do ;our cause a serious injury t" "Holy father, I feel it; absolve me-' I will undergo. any penance without a murmur!" "You have two other daughters!" "Yes, holy flther l" "Let the youngest fill the place of poor Ursula, endow the Convent with the salne dowry which you would have given her had she married. Do this and it will wipe the sin froml off the re- cords of Heavten!" "It is hard to part with' her, so young, so fond, so beautiful," murmured. Mr. O'Sullivan, " but it shall be done. Only grant'-me a little time to break the lnatter to her--to' prepare her for it!" "You shall have time, but be not too tardy. At your age the affections of the heart should be lost in the prcpar- ations for HeIavenal An hour later and Mr. O'Sullivan, sad and dejected, entered his house. "] Have you liheard of Ursula, dear pappa?" asked the eldest. "No, clhild, she is dead." "What has become of that brave, handsome fireman?" asked the young- est. "I wish he was in Purgatory!" re- plied the father bitterly. "Oh, father, how can you say so, when he was so noble, and manly, and so kind to you!" "Kind enough to deceive me-but say no more of him, I am sad and sick at 'heart!" page: 102-103[View Page 102-103] CHA PTER XIXXI. FOR some time we have lost sight of the family of Mr. Carrol, and of the progress made by the Jesuit Governess, Sister Mary, in instilling Catholic prin- ciples into the mind of his daughter.-- We will now pay them a visit. ElizIa Jane Carrol was seated by the side of her governess, with one hand placed confidingly in hers. Her book, in whichl she had just been reading a lesson, .lay open carelessly in. her lap-her tiny feet rested upon a footstool-sshe looked the picture of happiness. And why should she not be happy? Young, artless, pure, the beloved child of a kind alnd affluent father, she had nothing to make her unhappy. '"I wish my dear fatther staid more at home, Miss Mary!" said Eliza Jane.-- "Even kind as. you are, home seems lonesome without him. But he is ever attending these American meetings, writingl slpeeches anid pieces for the pa- per. It keeps him so busy that I cail scarcely ever get a chance to speak to him." "It is a pity, my sweet pupil," said the governess, " but it is not his fault. I think he has bad advisers. I do not believe lie could, in his own heart, fior he is very good, be so-bitter ag ainst the Catholics!" "But they are a very wicked people, are they not!" "Deluded, ignorant perhaps, but not very wicked, I think. Of course you know I am'opposed to their faith, but plity them, for they are undoubtedly sin- cere in their belief. I have often won- dered'at this evident devotion .and sin. cerity, and thought they must have some- basis for it.. So, lately, I purchas- ed some Catholic books, and have just comnmenced reading them 1'- "How I would like to see them, but father would be angry with me if I read such works, would lie not?" "No, I think not, for no one shlould be blamed for searching 'for information uand truth. Besides he has given me authority to choose your books, and it is not likely that he will question ie upon every one that is laid before you If you choose to spend an hour in myl room to-night, in reading, before we re- tire, we will read-together i" "Oh, I shall be glad to do so:-you are a kind, sweet lady, Miss Mary.. It is-so good in you to help father inl his labors--he never could make so many speeches if you did not write them out I for him.' And you are so gifted, know so much of history, that to him, with his poor education, you are invaluable I Education-is better than money, is it ,not?" "Yes, far better 1" "Then why do the Catholics oppose it?" This was a poser for the Jesuit Sister, and for a moment she delayed her an- swer. But she collected her thoughts and said : 'lJt must be because they are so ig- norant, my dear Eliza. Those who are ignorant seldom wish to improve and dislike to see others advance higher than' thlemselves!" ". Poor crcatures, I think flasther is to hard upon them. lie ought to teacli them, but not to persecute theml" "That is true, my dear girl and in in every speech that I have' prepared for him lately, I have inculclated. idlcs of forbearance and kindness 1" "That is so good and prudent of you. Father makes so many enemies by his remarks,. I often fear that he will be- murdered by them! The Catholics are such a bitter and murderous set of crea- tures--I have read dreadful accounts of their cruelties in the book of Mar- tyrs." "Yes, but my dear those deeds were done in the dark ages, many years ago, when all men were more rude and cruel than 'now-but there is your father's I step-go on with your lesson. " Mr. Carroll entered the room and we will close the chapter. page: 104-105[View Page 104-105] CHAPTER XXXt. A select party of ' 13's" gallant boys were seated in the bunk room of their Engine house, waiting for the re- turn of Oby from his expedition. Hick- sey of course was conspicuous amongst them. ' I wonder what keeps Oby so long -it don't take five hours to search such a crib. Hook and Ladder No. 1, could. tear .it down in an hourl" said one of the party.: " 1 wish he'd taken a party of us along--he's too good a boy to go alone on such business!l" "He didn't go alone-he had the police you know l" suggested another. "That's about as good as, going alone l" said Hicksey. There isn't one in ten that's good for anything but to hang about the rum holes and drum upl votes before Election time, to pay for the berth they hold " "That's true, but there are some ex- ceptionsP' -said another. "Oh, yes, in every case, but just as long as a feller has got to be. a rum- shop politician before he can get office, we'll have a set of thieves and loafers in office " The further discussion of .this import- ant matter was cut short by the en- trance of Oby. "What's the news?" cried Hicksey. "Has any o' you got a spare cigar?" was Oby's reply. A dozen or more Were immediately ' proffered; and having lighted one, Oby sat down a nd commenced his narrative: "Me and the old Chap," said he, went to-the Police Office and got some 'M. P.'s,' they were good ones too, for they come from the Chief 's office, to go along. We got to the place and search. ed a while, and then the old feller saw Ia gal that said she knew his daughter and she was dead, and as he knew the Lgal to be his daughter's friend, you see, he said he was satisfied andt wouldn't' search no more. But we wasn't satis- fied, nor I ain't now, that the gal isn't alive, and a kind of a muss ensued, and he called me a heretic!" " nd you lammed him of course" "No, I didn't l" "Oby," said Hicksey solemnly, ." you and me has been in many a muss-a we've stood side by side when there was more than a dozen on us at once ; I've seen you take the pipe right up into the top of a house, .whenl the rafters were bending and the roof nearB falling in, I saw you once when you burnt nearly all the hair off your head in saving a baby that you had to bring right out of the fire, and I never knowed you to take an insult without resenting it!" "It wasn't no cowardice that made me not hit him this timel" said Oby.' "The fact is, he is an old man,' and I would hate to knock down an old man, and then he has got the prettiest gal for a daughter that ever drank lemon- ade. I ain't vain, but I think she liked the looks of lme, and God knows I did of her. I Wouldn't have sent him home with a black eye for her to look at for all the world. No, if he'd called me a thief, I'd Xhave borne it for -ler sake. She is a picture!" "But Oby," said Hicksey, 'lwhat good -will all that do, you can't make nothing by it. You who arc only on( of B's' boys, and a mechanic can't expect to marry a rich man's daughter, and I know you wouldn't do no worse with her!" "No I wouldn't, you may bet yourl life I wouldnll't do her no wrong. ]uit I'll bet hirll if I did get that gal tliat the richest hulsband in this city wouldllln't do more to try to make her happy, thalt I would"1" "Yes, I know that,"' said tIicksc, "but you never hear of 'rich men's daughters, marl1rying a mcchanic!" ' "Well, they're so much the more fools for tlhat. Riches, the Bible says, are fieetitg, anld if a gal is married to one of these chaps that's got, all hs money in bank iand the bank breaks ai; d he is broke too, what will she do. He 'has got no trade, he can only earn a living by turning'thief or Peter Funk, one or the same thing, and if lie does that, she'll do worse. If I was as rich as old Astor I'd raise my sons to a trnde and marry my daughters to mechanics, for the time never will come in this free, land where a man, or the family of a man able and willing to work will starve!!". "That's true, Oby,but you wouldn't marry a rich man's . daughter if you 'eid, would you?" "Why not Hicksey. I've got a heart, I've got hands, I've got feelings. You know I support my mother and little sister handsomely-why shouldl't I do as well by one more, when I'm making nigh on to thirty dollars a week when I keep at work. If I marry, I marry her and not her father's money. But then her and me haven't said nothiln' about love or marrying, only I thought from her looks that she didn't mislike me!" "But about the other gal, her Sis- ter. You don't believe she is lead?" "No, I don't! And I believe she is in the hands of them cursed Jesuits- and I mean to hunt her out"if I can!" "And we'll all help you!" said Hick. ocy. page: 106-107[View Page 106-107] CHAPTER XXXII. CONSTANZA de Casali was esconded in the house- of Mr. Mortimer BenuIett, partly as a servant,.partly as a depen- dent. Urged by Genita, who pitied the apparent poverty of the wretched woman, Mrs. Bennett. had received lher. Genita, from her own warkrobe had furnished her with better clothing.-- These favors she received with an air that seemed to say-" this is my due-- it is not charity." Mrs. Bennett had observed that whenever the eyes of G enita were turn- ed away from 'those of tihe poor' woman, the latter looked at her with a glance of intense' hatred--the eyes of a ser- pent could inot be, more full of venoiim. She had spoken to Genitat of this, but she replied that it .was hard to read the eyes of an Italian, "I do not think that she can hate me, who lhave been kind to her, but she hates the cold world wlhich has been u-nkind to her 1" said she. "I would rather hear an un- kind word or glance from her than to see her suffer." " llhat a kind Christian girl you are, Genita. I love you more and more every day." ,i Where is nMr. Bennett-he has not been up to sec the children to-dayl" " o---he seems troubled about some- thing. He gro-vs colder toward me every day!" "I have noticed it, Madame," re- plied Genita-" and I feel sorry. for you--but you thave one great consola- tion and one means also of redr'ess if 'itc wrongs you!" "The consolation, 'what consolation, (cuilita?" Our holy religion, Madame, which comforts the stricken-hearted, -lifts up the penitent, and defends the oppressed!" "And the redress, what mean you by that, Genita?" "What redress can you have Madame if he neglects or misuses you, but to cleave him- to 'retire to the bosom of the Church. You are the owner of the wealth which he extends so lavishly, you are the mother of these sweet, beau- tiful childlren whom I am educating!" "True-very true, but it would be terrible to seperate the children from their father!" "Not if duty bade you do it! When He neglects them and you, he ceases to deserve the name of father or of hus- band " "Oh, Genita you have never been married, you cannot feel all that I have to feel." "Yes, lady, I am wedded--wedded to the Church. My spouse is our holy Saviour, and though in life I can only see him in the holy Eucharist, yet our Fathers teach us to believe that we w]t be his hereafter!" Not, as Mahomet promised; houris, b devoted to pleasure?" C Oh, horror, nol It. is a spiritual r marriage. in which all earthly passions -are forgotten! c "Then, if so, why use earthly' Pas- sions and m ieans to' advance it? Can- not the All Powerful sway his creatures q with means purely. spiritual?" c "H E can- but it is, not His iwill to ao so! we mtust regardl the will of HmI, as explressed thr ough the holy Fathers!" "It is; true. The holy Father Alex- ander is my sole adviser, and lie bids men( trdst in you. And so .I do, Genita. 1 Though etmployed by me, yet do I feel as if you were my sister, that you are 1 not a dependent, but that I anil" "I thank you, Madiam, thank you sincerely for the confidence you place inl me, I will surely reward you-ibut 1 hear steps;-Mr. Bennett is approach- ing!" "Then I will retire. I do not care to see him!" "But I do," said Genita as she passed out of thel room. "I do, for the olbject of my mission is nearly ended, and soon I shall be able to fly from. this cruel control to regions beyond its reaclh. And then with him I shall taste that happiness of which I have so often dreamed; my dreams will be realised! In a world of our own, peopled at first with our own imaginings, afterwards with cherubs of God's creation, we will walk along the flowery valley of life un- til we reach Death's dark . lake,. aid there Faith lighting our beacon, we will be wafted-safely across the dreairy gulf and land at last in Paradise, never to seperate.: It is beautiful-the dream is beautiful. And do I err? No, I do but my duty-to my G od-to my heart I Oh Allessandro, would to God you were near!" "Hush daughter, speak not so loud, even if you are alone!" She started at these words, for it was the Fatiher Alexander who with quiet and stealthy step had gained her side unheard. Pardon me, father Allessandro, pardon el'" shhe said, dropping on her knees. "Rise, my ownl sweet one, rise my bride. Bend not tly knlees to me. I am but mortal--thy beauty seems too perfect to be mortal " "And yet it is. Oh, how I fear now to die. I did inot before we met and I loved you, but ow0zo it would seem so cruel in death to be torn away from you!" ' , " Dear Genita, think not of death. Our futture will be bright. The past has been dark, the present is misty, but the future will be like the going down of an October sun. How is our work I going on?" "Well, very well. Mrs. Bennett is already discontented and unhappy; I have advised her to seperate from him. He is desperately in love with me-that is in the way thllt me of the world, love, and wants to fly with me to some unknown hlnd. My mission is nearly accomplished, and I hope that when it is done we ,an 'ly forever from the control oi e:rtriy mas- ters, and live for. love and for our- selves!" "Ny Y- ,ill -we Will tI A WI what was that? I thought I heard a mocking laugh?" page: 108-109[View Page 108-109] "I did not hear it-no on. is near as" replied Genita. "It was then the souls fear speaking as it often does in sounds,which, though imaginary, seem real. Where is Mrs. Bennett--I would see herl" "In the parlor I presume. She left me just before you entered' "I will seek her 1" As the Priest opened the door, which opened back, a form glided behind it. He passed on but did not see Constanza de. Casali, who had heard evlr word which he had uttered, , . CIAPTER XsXTII. AGAIN Gcnita was alone. Her thonfughts we. cannot fathom. Her looks 'indicated a mixed feelingr, a feeling of sad!less mingled with hope. The future to her was gleaming bright through a veil of clouds. Mr. Bennett entered the room. "Alone, sweet girlt" he said', as he entered. "yes, sir, althougrh not lonely, for I \as occupied in thought?" '"And was a thought of me included ill your mind's wanderings?" "There might have been," she repli- ed, with a sigh. "Why do you sigh, fair Genita?" " Oh, sir, have not I, a lone, friend- less orphan, mulch to sigh for?" "Do not call yourself friendless, when I who so devotedly, madly love you, am by your side I I only wait for your con- sent to fly to some far off land, where we can be forever happy!'" "Ah, sir, you know that is imnpossi- ble--your wife, your children- " "Speak not of them. There is 'no kindred feeling between 'ns-shel does not love me-she has alienated the af- fections of my children from rnel They have wealth-they will not miss Inme. I shull not miss them, if I can only:win your love. Oh Genita, say that yon Iave me!" "I dare not!" she whispered. "I pity you, I sympathise with yob; but I dare not think that I love you!" "Ah, Genita, there is more spoken in those downcast eyes andI in your quivering lip than words can utter. You do love me, I know you do; will you not fly with me?" "Oh do not tempt me to my ruin t she murmured. "I cannot go, it would ruin both of us!" "Call not that ruin which would re- sult in our bliss. What care we for the scorn of the world, when we hear it not? . What is the world to us cold and wintery as it is, when we. cai- make n heaven of our own? Th'l'll tongue of slander is harmless to us wlhe we do not hear its envenomed hiss!"' "It would be, were there none on earth to care for us. But that which we know must pain thlle, s/llvid pain "But you said just now thal you were friendless; you condemn yourself in your argument l" "Not so, for I alluded not to my own case, but to yours; for you have many friends--you stand high in the world's opinion. And more, the disgrace of an elopement would fall not on11 you only but upon your innocent children." '"' (ellitn, love never philosohises--it never thinks, it acts. Compared with other passions it is like the red flash of lightning darting through the sky, while page: 110-111[View Page 110-111] below burns a dull, smouldering fireI I will dare all, endure all, do all that man can to possess you ,I Be mine- swear to be minel" "I cannot while you are bound to an- other!" "Oh, curse the hated tic. It shall be burst asunder--promise me that if I procure a legal scparation from her that you will be mine!" "When you are free you shall have my answer!, " "Then it shall not be long before I am-ill the menll. time,. one emelml- brance!" Before she could prevent him he had bent over her form, and pressing. her passionately to his bosom, had imprint- ed a burning kiss pon her lips. Then he left the room. "How cruel it is," murmured Gcnita, "to so deceive him-to sow discord be- tween man and wife--to separate him from his children, and then after he has done all ths ; involved himself in ruin for me, to undeceive h!m, and show him how heartless to him I am. It is cruel, but it is my duty-it is for the good of the Church, and the maxim of the Fa- thers, that the end justifies the means, upholds me 1" She was interrupted by the entrance of Constanza, who though dressed in a common servants garb, did not look so poor and comfortless, as when she -en-, tered that dwelling. There. was an air of studied humility about her-a down cast look as she approached. "My kind benefactress," she said, "do not think me bold or presumptuous, but I have noticed that you look sad lately. Are you not happy?" "Most unhappy, my good friend- most unhappy 1" said Constanza. "And yet you have a great consola- tion!" continued Constanza. "In what?" "In the holy Church-in knowing that you are doing your duty!" "The church?, What do you mean, woman? Are you a Catholic?" "I am, thank the holy Vigill, I am!" "And yet you never before told me so!" "I did not at first know that you were one 1" "And how knew you so now?" "In cleaning your room, I' founld your rosary and beads under yore pillow 1" "Allh--yes, I forgot them--but do not betray my secret, you hnow that we are living in a Protestant family!"l "Yes, one that is partially Protes- tant! Do 3lot be alarmled good lady, I can keep a secret--no matter how I' lhave gained it!" said Constanza, leav- ing the room. "Gracious heaven-here is a new danger. That woman may he a spy of our order. If she discovers the love be- tween Father Alexander and myself, I anm lost. I care not for her other dis- coveries, but that secret once divulhged, the hounds of the Inquisition. on my track, and I should perish. I feel as if I was standing upon the verge of a terrible precipice, a beautiful land is beyond me, but 'a terrible clasm inter- venes. If I can overleap it in safety, then heaven is my own, but a false step; a failure in strength, and I am gone. I must watch this woman, I do not like her looks or -ways, yet she ought to be, gratefiul, for I saved her when she was perishing from want 1" CHAPTER XXXIV. A sct:xs.. I hate family scenles, espe- ciallv lwhere a husband and wife disla- gree. . I once tried to interfere in one, where a hslband slapped his wife's flace. I knocked hiim down with my clenlched handd, and she knocked me down Ntwitl tlhe poker. Sillce tlhen I have detested family scenes. : Mr. O'Sulllivan was in his parlor witli Ida two ;danmthters. Thb youngest, Ka- trine, 1lhad just, sung at his request, Dmipstelrs be)(autifll song, "The Irish lElmigrants Lament." Beallutififil, my child-it reminds one of times past, which can only be recall- ed in memory . KIltrilne, my daughter, I love you as dearly as I did the moth- er tha:t bor(\ 7you, and whom you reselr- )le, as'l airst sawIler-lthirtyyears ai'ro. It is. a sadl tlhought tlat we Ilust part!" "IPrtl, Iathler! Whllat do you mreall?" "IKatrille, you know that poor sister was devoted to our Iloly Churchl" "Yes, father!". "Al nd t le goo(d Gon who rules all things, took her up to Heaven. I have onlly yon two sweet girls, now as jewels. The good God knows I value you as ninch as the miser values, the gems whichl he conceals. You hav( Beenl little of the world, therefore this sacrifice will 1)e the less. Kalrine, you muLst enter the ConventIl" "The. Convent, father?" o TYes,.my chld. I love you dearly, imly house will be desoltce when you are bon, but it is my dut y. This is a bad. world-soon we will lmet in a better one if we do our duty!"- "But, fatther, it is not a diluy for mze to )be cooped up in a Coltvelnt, when my lieart will not be there;,whelln it will be wandlerigt free, over the bright and b)eautiful world!" ' "My chil--it is .so ordered1 I have a hleavy pelnance to ultdergo--the lheaviest that caln 1be laid lyupon a father's Ilhart-it is to lart with you--with my darlinig, hist born child!" "Father, I will nloto'! I ,will not enter a. Conlvlent. Wlly should I? Our dear sister we't tiLhere tid she has per- ished. I)o not bury me whtere she was )uriCd!" "Why, clild, it is ordered, ordered b)y the mlillisters of the Vicar of Christ, ant yon m7crst o U' rWell, fatiler, if I mll:st, I must. I ou will give lme a little time for pre- p )araItion?"7 "Yes, my sweet clhflld, and I . shall feel nore deeply than you this sacrifice. T But remember it is for the glory of God , and the good of the C'llurch!" S The girl, whlo lld lbeen weeping, made ar no reply ; but she wiped her eyes anid walked from the roomu. And in her look, as sle passcd filomn hit roton thnere was page: 112-113[View Page 112-113] medning! Read on and you will know what she meant.. Woman is wilful, and when she decides, she decides quickly, Oby was standing in front of his " engine house, alone. Perhaps he was watching for a fire. As a mechanic, it was w ithinl his working hours, that is before six, although late in the after- noon. But it is not for us to ask why he stood idly there. We have no busi- ness to enquire into private affairs. Oby stood there With a cigar in his mouth. His back was braced against the I door of the engine house, and lle looked as i ndependent as a woodsawyer on a rainy day, with a quarter in llhis pocket: A femrale passed him. Oby -had a taste for beauty. Wluat true mnan las not? Obey saw that she had " a dear * little foot," encased in a neat lilac gaiter, and her skirts, not the street sweeping ones, were sufficiently short for him to see that she had a well turned ancle. Oby could not see her face, although it was turned toward him, for it was clouded by a thick veil. She passed on and Oby would probably not dare thought of her again, had she not turned and agin slowly pasRed by the spot where he was standing. She passed so slowly and seemed through her thick veil to be regrarding him so intently that Oby thoulght she, meant something. He rolled down his pantaloons which had been tucked up as far as the tops of his -boots. He pulled up his shirt collar and cast down his cigar. She passed and turned again towards him. Oby took one step in advancec and they were face to face. She raised her veil and Oby saw her whom he had I only met once before; Katrine O'Sulli- van. It was not wonderful that he started back in surprise, for he had just been thinking of her. It is an old ad- adge, " think of ,the devil and he'll be sure to turn up," but it is a rare thing to think of an angel and .find her oB hallnd at the moment. Oby did not speak at once. He felt abashed--he knew that he was in the. presence of one, who by the laws of so- ciety, was his superior. But she smiled sweetly, though sadly, and her eyes looked red as if she had been weeping 'Oby felt that he was wanted for some- thilig, he knew not, cared aot what, he was ever ready for duty and no alarm was unheeded by him. "-Good eveningi, Miss," he said-"you seem in trouble, can, I do anything for you?" "Oh, will you serve me sir. We have never met but once before, but I feel that you will befriend me in my deep distress!" she replied. "Damn me if. I don't, Miss, forgive me for swearing, but who is there that has wronged you?" "They wilt to force me into the Convent as they did my poor sister- perhaps to murder me there. I do not wish to go i" "Then you shan't, by the holy IMoses I Why don't your father protect you?" "He is trying to force me -to go P' "Then why don't you leave him?" "Where can I go? I have no other relatives--no friends!" "Yes, Miss, you've got one friend. I'm but a poor mechanic--but I have a honme of my own--a dear mother and sister live in it, and if you wouldn't think it too humble and. common you should find a home and a sister who'd l Jove you as Has Hforgive me .Miss, I didn't know just what I was going to say, but if you would accept a home with my mother and sister, they'll be glad to welcome you for my sake P" "But I ,might bring trouble' upon you. They would search for me and if they found me in your louse--." "They'd be a little ca:eful how they 7 went into that house, and I would be rather careless how they went out of it. Miss O'Sullivan, I dlont like your old father but I do like you. You've saved him from one flogging--and I'd pitch into all creation to serve you. If you'll only accept my offer, ther"s a home from which no Jesuit dare to drag you. " page: 114-115[View Page 114-115] CHAPTER XXXVv A MECHANIc' s home-tlhe home of t an American mechanic. Reader, if you u should unfortunately belong- to upper- i tendom, you perhaps have never seen a ( home like that which I am about to de- o scribe. Perllhaps you' think that thile working people, like beasts of burden, 1 live in stables, feed on garbage, and 1 know not wlhat luxury, or even comfort, is. Perhaps you pity them I Wait un- til you hear them ask for charity, before you pity theml On Ludlow street there is a quiet- looking two-story frame house. It is painted white, but window blinds of green relieve the monotony of 'color. It stands a. little way back from the street, and in front a few flower beds * are tastefully laid out. lThe flag pave- ment that leads to the door is swept as clean from dust as the floor of the house within. Tlhe brass door-knob shines as brightly as if it were made of virgin gold. Everything outward looks as clean and neat as a new pin. We will ook inside. There is at rag carpet on the floor of the front room. There are only six chairs in the roin, neat cane-bottomed chairs, placed around by the wall at equal distance. A plain cherry table, without a speck of dust on it, is on one side, and on it is a cottage bible. A plain looking-Rgssl haLLgs above it, A little grate in which there is 'no fire though the chips to kindle it are in a basket close at hand, in the corner, next meets your eye. On the imantle over it is a small clock, which is tickilg off the minutes at every step which :old time takes over his endless journey. A picture of Washington, in a plalii cherry frame, hangs against one paLrt of the wall. Against another there is a litho- graph of a little child kneeling- under it are the words, "The evening prayer." In the next room, back, the furniture. was still more plain and simple, but like many plain and simple things, it was useful. Thllere was noI carpet on the floor, but the pine boairds which com- posed that floor were as white as if they , hiad just come from the hands of the - plainer. A plain cherry table, a few common chairs, a cooking stove and its usual appertances, were all that was visible in this room. That is, I mean, in the shape of furniture. But there were two articles in that room which, though of priceless value, cannot be found in every' aristocratic )f palace in our republican? country. One was a woman, .(I do not say lady fastidious reader,') an American woman, It aged probably between forty-eight and. c, fifty years. ie Her appearance was extremely neat. A Her dark brown hair laid neatly upon A either side of a high fair brow-and e, Time had kimdly, refused to frosten single thread of it. Her eyes of blue were lighted with the clear sunlight of happiness, tinged with the lustre of pride. Pride that she could boast of an Alneri- can son and daughter, the one pure as the mnorning dew-drop, the other brave, and fearless as the engtle. ! The daughter, named Alartha Eugenia, was indeed a noble specimen of an Ainerican girl, and was a fitting sister to so true and brave a man as Oby Kelsey was. Her age was 18 years, or therea- bouts, perhaps she was a little older, but she was of that style of beauty which never grows old. Of medium height, a full, plump, but very graceful form, such as would please a poet, a painter, or a sculptor. Her features were not as regu- lar as those of a wax-faced doll, but they were very pleasing. Her hair, of a very light brown, rather inclined to the auburn, curled naturally, and in its silken masses seemled to be struggling to burst out from the fillet which she had bound around it. A single fine-pointed star was fixed in the band of velvet which encircled her head and kept her glossy hair within bounds, so that it could not cloud the snowy whiteness of her droop- ing shoulders. She also was dressed very plainly and neatly. Reader, I have introduced you to the. home of Oby, the hero of the gallant "Thirteen's." Tle mother and daughter were seated near the stove busily occupied in sew- ing., "It is almost supper time, mother,' said Martha. "Oby will be home soon. Shall I not put on the tea-kettle?"' "Yes, my child, and cook up some- thing nice for your dear brother. He works so hard for us that we cannot but do our best to please him!" Steps were heard as Martha arose to fulfill her intentions. "He e is coming now, mother. What can have brou'ght him home so early!" "My legs, Sissy," said the fireman, for as he opened the door he heard her re- mark. "And here, Martha, is somebody that wants a sister. Now do you take care of her-take her up to your little room and she'll tell you all her story. Mother, this is Miss Katriine O'Sullivan, a good, pure, noble girl. She has run away from home because they wanted to shut her up in a Catholic nunnery. I told her she should have a home here!" "And so she shall, poor girl!" 'said Oby's mother, as she glanced at the poor girl, who yet stood timidly, near the threshold of the door. "Come in, Miss -take off your bonnet and thin)gs. We'll' soon have supper ready, and then you can tell us all about it. Martha, help the young lady off with her shawl and bonnet ." Oby's sister advanced to the stranger to assist her, and when she removed her bonnet she looked a moment in her beau- tiful face, and bending her own head forward and kissed her. Like an electric shock, the spark of kindness touched the young girl's heart, and clasping her arms around 'the neck of Martha she burst into tears. Tears, not of sorrow but of joy, tears bright and pure as the dew-drops which are set in-diamond light within the bosom of the violet. "Do not weep-we will make you happy here," said Martha. "I weep because I am happy," said page: 116-117[View Page 116-117] Katrine. "Oh, if they do not find me and force me back, and make me take the veil, I shall' be so happy and so grateful. I am willing to work-I will not be a burden upon you--all that I ask and pray for, is protection!" "And that you shall have, by the Great Eternal!' said Oby, stamping his foot heavily on the floor. IIow noble Oby looked as he said this--not noble as a titled fopling looks, but noble with nature's majesty--noble as one made in the image of his God. And the tearful eyes of Katrine grew brighter when she looked at him ald' her heart swelled more freely in her bosom, for a load had been taken from it. It was a few hours later and in a little bed, cover with-a snow white counter- pane, lay two lovely forms. Don't faint, reader. I'm not going to describe anything naughty. Honi sait qui mal y pense. It was Oby's sister and Katrine O'Sulivan. Arm in arm in close em- brace, like two lilies growing upon the same stalk, there they lay,. and softly they spoke, like mated doves cooing each to the other.' Katrine related all her troubles--describing her lost sister Cecelia, and bewailed her fate. "Oby does not think she is dead!" said Martha.' "He thinks those wick- ed priests' have got her locked up in some dungeon." "If so, de/tth only will release her, and like a minstering angel of kindness, it would come. I would rather meet death, and listen to the tolling bell for rny funeral, (if spirits can witness earth- ly scenes after they have departed,) thanu to live, if immured within a Convent's walls. It is worse than a prison, be- cause it confines the innocent and tho helpless-not the criminal or the guilty." "That is true. Brother Oby often wishes that the Americans had Courage enough and spirit enough to tear down every Convent in the land, and drive the traitorous priests, the subjects of a foreign despot and the enemies of freedom, from our land. But they sleep on, while the serpent is twining itself around our libertiesIl" "Ah! I what sound was that?" asked Katrinfie. "Some one knocking loudly at our street door; who can it be at this hour?" "Heaven only knows-it is late ; oh my God, what shall I do, if they have traced: me hither, and come to tear me from my new home?" "I'll scratch the eyes out of the first man that tries to come into my bed- rooml" said Martha. CHAPTER XXXVI. TImr Engine-house, and who that. is a fireman, has not heard many and many a wild tale of daring and of hair-breadth eseapes from tlxe drving flame, tWld within that mysterious precinct, known as the interior of an enagie-house. Rude, though the language used, may be, unpolished, untainted by the fine oonventionalities of fashionable grammar, yet there flows with the firemen's ftami- liar phrases the flood-tide of honesty, of couragfe, and God-like philanthrlopy. And within the engine-house of Thir- teen, do we find Oby, sitting upon one end of a long bench, surrounded by half- a-dozen of his comrades, who ar'e listen- in'g evidently'to some narrative of more th an ordinary interest, wlich lie is relat- ing with an earnestness that to his fr'iends leaves no doubt of his sincerity or of his strict adherence to the great ruling power of!s actions-the truth. Oby never told a lie-like the last of the Wampanoags, Oby's heart cannot cherish that which is false. What mysterious yarn can it be that thus chaetins the minds and thoughts of those who are listening--catching every word with eagerness. We shall soon see! - Meanwhile, let us look farther :-Close by the door is a large roll of old hose, and behind this heap of hose is a small closet, which is used to deposit fire hats, cots, and o the various articles used by Y these warriors, in the cause of' water vs. fire; the door of this closet is not locked, but stands partly open, the door of the engine room stands ajar :- tl attention of all within is directed to Oby, conse- quently that which was passing at the door passed unheeded. It slowly and cautiously is pushed open some ten or twelve inches, and by the dim and indis- tinct light which flickers through the gloom of the coming darkness, the head of a'.person appears peering in. Stealth- ily as a cat, and as silently, a form glides from this outer door to the closet, drop- ping for a second behind the hose to avoid being seen by one of the firemen who happened to partially rise from his seat. The closet door was nearly closed, leav- ing only a narrow aperture through which he that was within could both see and hear distinctly. "Well,. Oby, come tell us that story you promised us-ain't you goin' to, eh!" "Certainly-of course"-and Oby re- galed- himself with a huge draught of water from a pitcher which stood' near him. "It isn't exactly the one I promised you, but it's a true one. "Then, it isn't a story, Oby, a regular yarn must be true. My old mran always says the bigger the lie the better the yarn, but never .mind, fire ahead, play. away and put it out Oby." page: 118-119[View Page 118-119] "Its about," began Olby, "a poor un- friended young lady, that has been driven almost to despair and suicide by the in- fernal Jesuitical bigots-that's what it is." A curse upon Oby rose upon the lips of the spy within the closet." He was a spy-and for two days past had followed Oby, nearly everywhere he went. A paid spy, in the employ of the Jesuits, passing the engine house, he heard Oby's voice-he stopped-listened a moment, and then entered, as I have be- fore related. "Yes, cuss them Catholics-cuss 'em I say," added a short, thick-set individual, by the side of Oby. "Cuss 'em, and if ever tfiere comes to be a plug muss atween the white people and these ere blasted, sneaking, cowardly Irish vagabonds that are howling around, I'll just ,go in for my share, that's all. Some of 'em 'ill feel the precise weight of a ship-carpenter's two hands doubled up." "Yes, said Oby, I go in for, stringing 'em up ten on a string, like onions. Th other day I was standing out by the front' door, when there came by a little-not so very little either-young girl, with suth a sad, sweet face, it put me in mind, boys, of them kind of faces we sometimes set in our dreams, that. flit through our minds-bright and radiant for the mi- nute, then are gone-gone only to return again fairer than before. The girl passed by'; but as she got opposite to me, she looked towards me,-as if she wanted to speak, and still was afraid. I knew at once she wasn't one of the common sort. She went on a piece further, then stopped -looked around once or twice again, and tlurned back-and .this time she came up to me. 4I soon found out what the matter was. What was it Oby, you can tell a good i story 81 If it is time, you know how to get it up. What was the gal's name?" The spy-in the closet-almost ceased breathing-leaned forward to catch every sound as it fell from Oby's lips. He could almost swear what name would be spoken. "Her name, continued Oby, "was Katrine O'Sullivan; and her father want- ed to put her into a Convent, and the sunm and substance of the whole of it was, she wouldn't nor couldn't stay at home and be safe. So she run away. Poor girl, her voice was so plaintive as she told me -a sort of murmuring whisper, like tones of the wind, as it nestles its spring- time tone, through the opening buds and blossoms, far out upon the western prai- ries. I took her to my house, and there she shal stay, and if any of them Jesuits or Catholic Irish come after her, they'll get her-over the left. Them's my ideas Wouldn't you keep her boys--eh ." "Of course, keep her safe-protect her, and we'll back you to any amount." The spy heard enough-quite enough to serve his purpose-and he prepared to depart to execute a scheme which had entered his mind. It was easy enough to get in, in comparison to the task of getting out. For when Ohy finished his relation of his adventure with the girl, his companions arose and were scattered through the room; some still talking together, some examining into the condition of the " machine," while one or two walked to the door. The room was pretty dark, for though the!re was depending from the centre of the room a gas-burner, a misty sort of oil lamp supplied its place in lighting the room. Had the gas been buriing, it would have been utterly impossible for thi cowardly spy to have escaped detection -and woe would have then been his por- tion, for his countenance would have con- demned him as a papist, without any other evidence being adduced. And by entering the closet he impli- cated himself as a thief, for none but thieves, burglars, or Jesuits obtain access as he did. Suddenly-he thought of a plan, and it was a bold one, and ingenious in its audacity--he felt around for a fire-hat he found one,-throwing off the cap he wore, he donned that symbol of protec- tion-a cape next followed. . With the hat drawn over lis eyes, he bore, in the dark, some faint resemblance to. a fire- man. His intention was to gently slip out-- or rather swagger out as if he had just placed his hat, tnd citpe on in order to take them to his residence, without the trouble of carrying them in his hand. Some one might, and' possibly would notice him, and should the very slightest shade df suspicion prevail, then unless the audiacity of his design succeeded he would be lost. Apparently fortune favored him and saved him from the hands of his foes. He had but just accoutred himself as described, when the city hall bell boomed forth an alarm of fire. One, two, three, four, five, six-the sixth district. A half-a-dozen more of Thirteen's boys rush up, tie o uter doors are thrown open -all is hurry and bustle, and the usual excitement which attends "leaving for the fire," and in the confusion which thus occurs, unseen, or if seen, not noticed, the spy effects his escape. We will leave the fire boys to rattle through the streets, over the stony pave, 'intent upon their service in the cause of humanity-leave them to add another ray to the glory which clusters around the name of the "old Thirteen," and follow the spy-he turns the corner below, and rapidly proceeds towards Broadway, he has heard all he wished to, he has heard where the intended victim of their hellish plotting is-the victim, a helpless female, that through the ignorance and fanaticism of a father, is to be immolated at the shrine of bigotry. How vile, how infinitely degraded is that religion which descends to force, to brutality, in order to obtain converts, or to maintain its position. On he. goes-through the darkness, like an evil spirit, regardless of all else save the accomplishment of his duty to the church-tthat duty 'is to once more place within the power of a horde of law less priests, and depraved "Lady Su- periors," an innocent girl, whose only crime is, that of having common sense enough to hate that which is wrorig and founded upon wrong. "The means sanctify the result," says the religion which intellect and 'tolerance advocate-but the dark plotting schisms, and inquisitorial-religion that increases only amid the pollution of colrrpted Rome-.teaches the reverse-"The result sanctifies the means." If a murder is necessary, plenary indeulqence sanetifies the crime, because the church 'of Rome and its q'spreme pontiff must be protected in their asserted rights. The spy did not go to headquarters to report the important revelations, but he immediately proceeded to the station house, and there laid a complaint against Oby for abduction-swearing falsely, which of course is nothing unusual for a Jesuit, that Oby had by some means page: 120-121[View Page 120-121] unknown to him, persuaded Katrine O'- Sullivan to abandon her own home-for- saken her kind, good old father, and left him to despair and misery--induced probably by a promise of a large reward by Oby. The complaint being entered in due form by the Justice, whose general ap- pearance savored strongly of some affin- ity to the Kilkenny Bog district-some four or five Greek policemen were detail- ed, especially for the purpose of accom- panying the spy,' and instantly taking Katrine from the place where she had found friends and comparative happiness. The spy, as the police passed out, ex- changed signs with all but one. "They are right," he chuckled, ' they dare not disobey their oath, if, they do in any one respect, the maledictions of a true son of the Faith, and the curse of Rome will follow them forever. No, no there's no fear of them," and he followed them. These Greek policemen were all, with the exception of the one mentioned, mem- bers of the secret "Order of Ancient Hi- : bernians," and upon their initiation, had sworn on the cross, to protect and im- I plicitly obey, under all circumstances, the officials of the Order ; and had they been I instructed by the spy, to accidentally kill the whole family of Oby, they would not 8 have dared disobey. He was one of the s presiding officials. After they had walked' two or three I blocks, the spy asked, "Brothers, Katrine f O'Sullivan, at all risks must be taken r from the house of this accursed Protes- c tant." "Yes, but be jabers, may I throuble 1 yese by axin if the bloody spalpeen iv a t fireman is at home 8" "Home, no-just before I had left, b - when I obtained my information, there - was an alarm of fire, and he went with L the Company. There's no one in the house excepting the women folks, so there Iwon't be much resistance; and the only opposition we'll get will be crying and pleading." "That's all right, sure, he's wan iv the fifteen's, isn't he." "' No-one of the thirteen's." "Ah, be the piper that played before Moses, they're a dhirty set iv blaggards, the whole iv them. Thq blessed Pope, some iv these days, 'ill sarve them worse than Barny O'Flaherty sarved his ould grandmother." "How was that, Mick?" ".JHow was it! be jabe!, he cut her throat for turning Protestant in her ould age." ".Sarved' her right," ejaculated another of this most heroic detachment of the New York city defenders The party hurried on ;-the gas lamps throwing their glare upon them, reveal- ing as good a collection of Beetle-heads as we could find anywhere within the precincts of the Five Points when the Brewery was at its acme of notoriety. They turned into Ludlow street, and halted in front of the house Qf Oby. As they paused the 1neighlboring clock struck out another hour in time's pas- sage, from tilhe present to the past. It struck ten-and presently--the house clocks, all around, chimed in dif- ferent tones their feeble echoes, to the master voice of its great neighbor-ten o'clock. Oby's mother and sister were in the back room of first floor, just preparing to, retire--and wondering where Oby could be, "those fires and alarms, kept him out so!" as his sister said, Katrine O'Sullivan, who since her in- troduction to their hospitable roof, by her winning demeanor had become a favorite. Yes, more than that-was looked upon with the same feeling by its inmates as though she were a daughter and a sister. She was at home-this home was to her what her own should have been, what it would have been, had not the upas of Catholicisin spread its poison around it, blighting all with its deadly venom. "Ob will soon be here now, Katrine; don't worry about him, he is safe enough, you may be su're--he is out thus late often, and it's not late either, its only ten do go to bed, you need rest, no one will trouble you here, they dare not." "Mother," interrupted the sister, "you know what Oby said, that these Jesuits and their lamng of thieving allies would not hesitate at committing any crime, if they could get a chance to do it secretly." "Yes, but, they won't trouble us, be- 1 sides Katrilne your father don't know where you are--- " t Thev were interrupted by a knock at C the fiont door, and the slamming'of the yard gate. The mother glanced upon Katrine- i she ttclill led: "i it may be my father." No, thlere is the sound of more than s, one toottp, I will go the doorl" d The knocking was repeated. Oby's- sister took the hand of Katrine, y andnl "nlmured in her ear, they shall n not harml ytou, and these people may be some of O(by's firiends; don't be frighten- The door was opened, and in reply to the question, whom did you wish to see, the answer came from a large rough ar "n- ( Ef you plaze, mim, I'm a mimber in )y the polace and these gintlemen are my a friends, all iv' them members of the po- as lace, we're afthler findin' a young lady be tA the name iv, iv," he turned to a person ar who stood a little back, " what's her name, S41." . o "Katrine O'Sullivan," ejaculated the , fiull-toned voice of the Spy. "e Yis, minm, Katine O'Sullivan, that's n her name, and by varthu of the laws in y' this counthry, I've come to take her to her blessed home, wlhere a dhisconsolate ; father is a waitin' to resave hler. And be , the powers, we'll be there too." 3 "But she is not lere. Why do you come here?" 3 "Bekase, this, minm, is Oby's house, and bekase we know she's here." "Wait -comel you not until my son returns." "Divil a bit iv a wait, bisness is lis- ness." "Were iy son here, you mighlt have to wait." "Wud he dare resist the law? Ah, the haythen. Come, boys, we must do our duty." "Yis, and be qulck about it," abruptly said the spy. And then, in a lower tone he whispered-", He may come." "Mim, it's out bounden dooty to search the premises, and' here goes- don't make any fuss.- lf the girl!s here we'll find her without inconvaniencing you, mim, in the laste. Michael Maloo- ny." "Here, sir.:' "Did yes go and git the carriage, as I ordhered yese" "Yis." "All right now, minm, ef ye plaze"- and the speaker pushed past the mother of Oby, and entered the house. page: 122-123[View Page 122-123] She saw it was useless resisting such a parcel of legally authorized brutes. "Come on, be Jasus." .' And on the party did come; but the Spy remained outside. Singular he did not enter, could he be known by any one within? The back room door was thrown open, and there stood the two girls-Oby's sister was calm, yet determined in ap- pearance, clasping her with the energy of despair, Katrine seemed like a doom- ed angel. For a moment, the ruffians paused, the attitude of the two girls was something unlike what they were used to look upon. "Do not let them. take me away; in- deed, indeed I am innocent of any crime; they want to shlt me up in a Convent: dod'save me, Oby, Oby, where are you." "-Yes, Oby, Oby, where are you," ex- claimed the sister, convulsively clasping her hands. "Which of vese is -Katrine O'Sullivan. Spake the truth and shame the divil; and the won I wont is Katrine, out wid it." "I, I am she you want." "Yis, I allowed you was, but I wanted ye to own up yerself." The large Policeman did not offer any more remarks, but individually walked into the room, and followed and unitel by his comrades, seized their victim, screaming, and resisting the brutes as far as she was able. Where was Oby then? Why, preserv- ing his fellow-citizens' property from the flames, while his home was being despoil- ed by an Irish rabble. Ts the carriarge at the door," yelled the huge brute, as he dragged the now insensible girl toward the front door. "Yis." "Come on here, ye Odmauns, and givy us a lift; the gal's as heavy as a chunk of lead!" And thus, closely waltched by the Spv, did they carry her out and force her into the carriage. This was done in a civilized commu- nity-this brutality committed in a land of Liberty. The Spy mounted the box with tho driver, who drove off up Ludlow'street, while .the "police force," leaving misery and sorrow in Oby's house, marched trliumphaintly back to the Station House. Fifteen minutes afterwards Oby returneld. "CHAPTER XXXVII: THE night was a dark and dismal one. The stars had hidden themselves behind great -black clouds from whic!h therain fell in torrents;-the streets were strangely lone and desolate. The light of the street-lamps fell fitfully upon the little streams of water that had gathered upon the pavement, but save this all was gloomy and dreary. A strange night and a strange hour, (for the midnight bell had tolled) for a woman to be wending her way through the city. Even those unfortunates who walk forth at the departure of day' to pursue their horrible soul-seeking trade, seek a shelter on a night like this--but this fermale lurries. rapidly on wrapped closely in a large ' woolen shawl, her face compllctely hidden by a heavy veil, looking neitler to to the right or left. Can it be love, or fear of death that impels her hasty steps? 'Tis none of these, but a passion stronger, more fear- ful lends to her, speed. Here e is burning in her bosom- -burning as though its flames were lent by hell- burning, so fiercely that she cannot feel the pelting rain, and dead to all but that one master-feeling, she notes not the passing hours. At last she reaches the place of her destiniation. A dwelling-house in Bar- clay-street near Broadway--it has been mentioned before in this story. She cast a hurried glance at the windows,'d I but no light gleamed from them, the shutters were tightly closed-and there iwas nothing to indicate that the house was occupied. But hesitating not a moment, she ascended the steps and gave,.a loend sharp ring at the door bell. It was not answered. Another and another followed, and then t the door slowly opened, and one whose appear- ance denoted him to be a servant asked in a harsh tone, "Who's there? "A true daughter of the Church" was the reply, "one who comes to His Eminence on the most important busi- ness-one who has a secret which must be entrusted to his ear alone." She was admitted, and all was again is silent as before. His Eminence the Grand Provincial,. albeit the hour was late, had not re- tired. He sat before a table covered with written documents, the contents of which he was anxiously examining when the silence that reillclcd arond was broken by the loud ringing of the door- bell. Accustomed to visits at all hours of the night as well as the day, he waited without anxiety the appearance of the late-comer. But no surprise was de- tected in his countenance when his at- tendant ushered into his library a tall and elegantly formed though plainly dressed female. Throwing off her. vt:i . page: 124-125[View Page 124-125] she knelt at his feet and while receiving his blessing raised to his own a face of great but faded beauty, marked by an expression that told of agony, passion and revenge. "Rise my daughter," said His Emi- nence in as gentle a tone as he could assume, "and tell me on what errand you come to me at this.' hour- of thle night-such a fearful night too. Sure- ly it must be one of weight, speak on." "Ilndlclee it is of the greatest interest to our Holy Church," was the firm re- ply, "for it regards the apostacy and desertion of one of Her most influential sons. If your Eminence can grant me the time I will relate a story which will explain everything." Proceed, my daughter, I have al- ways time to listen to augh,t which will affect the Nyvlfurc of our religion, . "Years ago, . o years o,", benan the woman, and her tones were sweeter and softier than thlose in which she had spoken before, as though memory with a 1 gentle influence had toucled her heart, I "there lived in bright sunny -Italy in Rolme, a maiden whom many sued and i all called beautiful. But her heart was- not given to any of the proud nobles who she dll around her. She loved wtl I a all the passion of an Italian soulh-s 1! loved, oh! blame her not Most II olW Father- for litierly has she repented 1i of her sin-a novitiate of the blessed Society of Jesus. 01 we w oe-C vows(. were given to the Virgin Mary, one1ii who belonged to the Jesuits, once whoi, had no right to love or be loved. Well let that pass. Young thought- tt less and inexperienced she loved this v youth with a devotion that would have I led her to peril life and soul for his hap- ev g j pirness-a love that knew no bound, no )f 'imit no end. And he in return-it n was a terrible crime, your Emninence, n plighted to her his oatlhs of never-end. ing, inver-fading affection, and -though i- no priest could bless their union, he d said she was his wife-his wife although d he was already wedded to the Holy e Catholic Church. : Their intinmacy was discovered by the "General of the Jesuits. She was t smeoi,.c ed and to this day b)ea:rs uponl her - form the marks of the terrible punish- 1 ment dictated by the wisdom' of her, supleriors. He was banished to Ameri- ca. Holy Father that woman became mother, but her child was taken by whom she knew not from her side and lonely and forsaken she set out to seek her lover in the distant couutry to which he had been sent. At last she found him after years of weary search. It was just such a night as this they met. She sat in the cold. street a Dc,.nr imploring charity. He passed, recognised her voice and with unchang- ed love beaming in hs eyes clasped her in his larms and bore her to his home. But your Eminence that love is not unchanged now. Soon did his newly- awakened affection die away, for the cr ms of another passion had been planted in his bosom-a passion felt for one younger and more beautiful than his pale, time-marked wife as he once called her. But there was one watch- ing him he dreamed not of--the trusting being whose confidence he had so mercilessly betrayed followcd his steps, and managed to gain admittance in the very house where the object of his new love resides. Before that, how- ever she heard him swear to this other the same fidelity that he had sworn to her ; she saw, him press another to his bosom as passionately as he had once embracecd her-she looked'on while other lips received kisses as warm and loving as those once bestowed upon her. No wonder her soul was hardened--no wond- er her heart grew like ice--no wonder she thirsted for revenge, and so as I said before your Eminence she 'con- trived to become an inmnate of the very house where lived this new fancy of her lover's. There she listened again, they as unconscious as before, to the love-words breathed to that fair girl, and these also she heard heretical seutimcnts and blasphemous remarks spoken by this Priest whom his brothers consider one of the chief props of the Catholic Church. These are the words uttered by thit apos- tate one to the object of his adoration: "Fly with me to a Western home-give up the church and defy its power" The face of the Grand Provincial grew livid with rage. "Who is it?" he exclaimed starting from his seat, " that has thus dared even in thought to brave the vengeance of the Order of Jesus?" "Holy Father," and the words came slowly as thougih each one had been a death-knell, " the betrayed, injured, N though sinful woman wlose story I have 1 told, stands before you--Costanza de Casali. She who has usurped her place is called Sister Genita. The priest who { has been faithless to his love-faithless f to himself-faithless 'to the Church is i Alessandro Bettini" } "Alesandro Bettini?" almost shouted i His Eminence pausing in his hurried c walk. "lie about to desert his Order- : hefalse to our Society. Woman, an I o this be true?" And he glanced search- s ingly in her face. e There was no falselhood in the eyes r that met'his gaze as she answered un- ' hesitatingly, "Holy Father, I have ) spokeni nothinig but the truth," fand she kissed. a small, cross she drew from her bosom. "And when is this escape to be ac- complished?, I doubt if it ever is ac- complished though," he continued in a low sneering tone. "I know not, exactly; your Eminence, but I am confident the trial will be made soon, as Alessandro is most anxious to secure his prize, and Gcuita fervently wishes the danger past." "And can we rely on your future as- sistance?" was the next question. "On my soul, you can, Holy Father," and the large black eyes flashed with a revengeful fire. "Well, since yor are in the house with Sister Genita your aid will be the most effectual we can halve. You must watch closely-watch these would-be fu- gitives. In the meantime,. daughter, I must consult others; some planl must be arranged to frustrate this eloplement. You may go, and our blessing go with you." "'Stay," he continued, "it is our will that you be at this place again at the same hour to-morrow night. Ben- edicti I" Constanza expressed her submission and departed. Gencita slumbered peace- fully in her own room. The dream-spir- it was with her---a smile lingered round her very lips-she breathed the name of Alessaildro. Ah! little did she think of the pale woman, who, with garments drenched with rain, glided, spectre-like, past her apartment, murmu ring as she page: 126-127[View Page 126-127] paused one moment before the door, "Vengeance mill soon be mine. Sleep on proud beauty--dream of him-but -ever, no never, shall you rest on his bo- som as I, the poor despised one, have of ten slept; never shall' a child of his call you mother. Sleep on; your sleep will ere long be broken and cursed as mine .m I I ... CIAPTrER XXXVIII. GE NITA' slt alone in the school-room- the pupils had been dismtissed-and lean- ing her head upon her small white hand she aRt),loneled herself to the t most pro- founnd nieldit:ttioln. A foreshadowing of evil' seemed to haunt her--: cloud, small and indistinct, floated across the sky, lit by the sunshine of her love, and in spite of herself an ex- pression' of anxiety mingled with sadness stole over her beautiful face. ' There are those who do not believe in presentiments; but I, for one,'have in he midst of gayety often telt a sud- den chill fall upon my heart, and the evil it betokened was sure to follow. And I have seen others pause in their merry talk, and vacant Mance ; appear to listen to the voice of some unseen spirit, and when questioned as to the cause of their abstraction they have answered, "I heard the tolling of a death-bell." Strange as it may seem, death has ere long been with them. 'Twas thus with Genita. A mysteri- ous shadow had fallen upon her brow. She shrank from somlething, she knew I not what. She dared not look forward in futurity lest some fearful phantom I should meet her gaze, and shuddering i with an indefinable fear, she turned her 1 thoughts to the present again. j "Why 'tis strange, very strange, that i I can be sad," thus she communed with i herself, t" when Allessandro loves me.. t Oh! his love should dispel all gloom, V + leven as the glad light of morning drives away the dark clouds of night. Once I I wildly longed for love, my heart without -it was like a closed blossom, trembling and weeping because the sunshine never ) drew its leaves apart. Now the sunshine , has kissed its inmost leaves, should the blosson still pine and weep? . Oh, no! basking in its lover's similes it should know naught but joy. I will conquer these foolish fears. I will overcome these hateful doubts and once mole; dream of happiness and Alessandro!" A brilliant smile awoke the dimples that clustered 'around her sweet mouth, and rising, she cast an inquiring glance at the clock that ticked on the mantel. Its hands pointed to the figure four. "He said he would be here at four," and scarcely had the words passed her lips ere she was clasped in the fond em- brace of her lover, and felt his kisses on her brow, her cheek, hler lips. "My own Genita--my life-my love -my peerless own," lie murmured, "what bliss, wlat joy, to clasp thee to nmy heart again. Wilt thou believe me, dearest, if I tell the eachl hour, each mo- ment, away fromn thee, seems like a long and dreary year. Time is' no friend to love, for love should know no bounds. But soon, aye, very' soon, morning, noon and eve will find us together. We'll never, never part, my 'own Genita; and' then the envious hours may speed on and we'll heed them not. Sheltered on my page: 128-129[View Page 128-129] breast, 'my kisses and love-words shall lull thee to sleep at night and wake thee from thy pleasant slumbers when morn- ing dawns." Was it imagination or reality? , Ge- nita started as the words "l never," pro- nounced in the hissing tones of hate, fell upon her ears. She glanced hurriedly around, but no human form met her sight, and as her glance returned to Al- lessandro's face and she'saw naught but joy and love bealning there, she dismissed as an idle fancy the memory of the word she had heard, and nestled still closer to her lover's breast. "Ahd art thou sure." she asked, ( that we may seek our new home very soon? I am weary of the double part I am com- pelled to play in this house. My shul recoils from the warm avowals of passion that I cannot return, and yet I am com- pelled to veil my true feelings and listen calmly to the vows and pleadings of my employee. Oh! dear Allessandro," she continued entreatingly, winding her soft fair arms still more caressingly around his neck, " do make every exertion that I may leave this place. My soul, my heart, my thoughts, aye, even my dreams at night are given to thee-think then how I shrink from the proffered affections of another." "My rose-queen," replied Allessandro; "you shall not suffer much longer. Clear that dear brow. No shade should rest there when I am near thee. Do I not I love thee, Genita? Have I not given up my church, my station, all for thee? Be patient. The arrangements are made for X our flight. The vessel which I hope will bear us away leaves New York in two weeks. Should we fail to depart at that ( time, though our passage is secured, I swear to you that in a month we will be free! Think, my own Genita, one short month of imprisonment, and then free dom and happiness for a lifetime. - One' 1kiss, love, and then farewell. Soon shall farewell be a word unspoken by either-- soon we shall meet to part no more!" The fair girl raised-her lips to meet his passionate kiss, then slowly unclasp- ing her arms she suffered him to. depart. As she loitered to his retreating footsteps, she joyfully exclaimed aloud, hope beam- ing from her dark eyes :-"Allessandro, mine-mine! My love-my husband!" That deep whisper again fell on her startled ear--" never." It could not' be imagination--the voice, though changed, was familiar to her-and yet she could not think whose voice it was. Hope fled from her heart. Again that gloomy feeling shaded her bright thoughts, and bending her head upon her hands she wept silently but bitterly. Constanza de Casali came from her place of concealment behind the heavy curtains that shaded a large book-case, and casting one glance of triumph and hatred upon the weeping girl, passed slowly from the room. Twelve o'clock. The night is as cheer- less and as dreary as the last I described. The rain still fell slowly and steadily. upon the earth, the heavens still wore a heavy frown, and the streets were as de- serted as before, Constanza stood at the door of the re- sidence of His Eminence. This time she was admitted without a question, and passed rapidly up to the room where the former interview had taken place. The Grand Provincial was conversing with Father Burke, and several other "Fathers i' were eagerly discussing some apparently interesting subject in another part of the room. The instant Constanza appeared, how- ever, all, conversation ceased, and each face present wore a look of inquiry. -She bent before His Eminence and then rising to her feet awaited his commands. "Daughter," asked he, ' have you gained any new information? If so, be quick-we are anxious to hear it." Hurriedly the revengeful Italian nar- rated the scene to which she had been an unsuspected witness, and with a joy al- most savage named the time appointed for the escape of Genita and her lover. "You have done ell, daughter. The Church will -not soon forget yoour devo- tion. Continue to play the spy, and hasten to us each time you learn any- thing of importance. Father Burke," continued His Eminence, turning to that 1 worthy individual, " be it your duty to ] seek out this vessel. It may be the Cap- tain or some of his subordinates belong a to the Holy Order. If not, manage to c introduce some tried and trusty servants of our own on board. Father Alexander t will not escape us as easily as he thinks. t Let. him embark with his paramour, a they'll never reach the house they dream sl of.' And when captured the torture ih its G worst form shall be applied to this de- cl generate son and daughter. The Ca- T tholic Church is not to be defied, and pi 8 r-' those who brave its anger muAt feel its h punishment;" and the thin lips of the e speaker assumed a haughty expression X as he spoke. A shudder passed over Constanza's a frame as "the future ' was mentioned. Perchance she saw in imagination the man she once loved-the father of her - child--enduring the same dreadful, agony she had borne herself in years gone by, -and perchance for a moment her stern heart relented, and .pity for her victims entered her soul. It was but for a mo- ment. "Let him endure it," she mur- mured between her clenched teeth, " he hath fully deserved it: and she! I could look on her death agonies with a smile." Oh! what is more fearful than love turned to hate inca woman's breast! It knows no mercy-nuo teams-no leniency. Better were it for a man to yield his life at once than to live to feel the vengeance ,of a woman spurned I The conference ended. Constanza re- turned to her home. When she came to Genita's room she paused as before, and a sound as of one moaning in her sleep reached her. Poor, gentle, loving Genita, weep on, thou soon shalt have cause for thy heart's most .bitter tears. The serpent's coils are round thee, God pity thee I page: 130-131[View Page 130-131] CHAPTER XXXTX. ' WHAT is the matter here-who in the name of God has been here kicking up a muss?" cried. Oby, as he entered his mother's house, and found both mother and sister weeping. "They have been here, the Catholics, and have' dragged her off 1" sobbed his sister. "Curse the Catholics, curse. their bloody bishop and his traitor priests. Why didn't you call the police?" "It was the police that helped to drag her off! We did all we could to save her!" "My God! has it come to this. The Pope has his police, h'is magistrates, his spies, all. in power. Tne home of Jai American can be invaded, dungeons can immure the innocent! I'll be d-- d if I'll stand it. I'll rouse Thilrteen's Boys-- the whole Fire Department will join us." "Dear Oby, do not be rash!" urged his sister. ' "Rash, sister! By this time Katrine O'Sullivan, whom I love dearer than, life, is in one of the cursed dungeons of their Convents, and I'll hunt her 'out or die! There is no use ef you or mother trying to keep me quiet -nozo. They have gone too far! The next thing they will try to do will be to drag you into one of their Convents and make you the mistress of a priest. Let them have their sway, and neither mother, sister or wife will be safe from their -cursed lust! Which way did they carry her-is there no trace which I can follow a e "They drove off up the street in a carriage! Her cries were stifled. I saw one of the wretches push a handkerchief in her mouth!" replied his sister. "They would'nt dare to go to the same crib where we looked fol her sister, would they ." said Oby, musingly.-- "Maybe they would, for they rely on their Greek Police to protect themh.- Thirteen's Boys won't be long in finding out, or else I don't run any longer with their machine, that's sure as shooting. Good bye mother, good bye sissy, I'm off to look for Katrine, and when you see me again, you'll see her!" The brave, warm-hearted fireman did not stay-to receive a'parting kiss from the rosy lips. of his lovely sister; the path , of duty lay before him, and 'he step)ped upon it with the heavy'tread of a free- man. When Katrine O'Sullii"an was torn from the house of her kind, but, alas! powerless protectors, and foriced into the carriage which hurriedly drove her off, a handkerchief saturated with chloroform had been held to her mouth, and her re- spiration in a few moments made her in- sensible. How long she remained so she did not know, but when she recovered, she found that the carriage was being rapidly driven over a smooth road, and. that it had left the stony pavements of the city. All1 now was, dark inside of the carriage, but she knew that she was not alone in it-she felt that some one was seated beside her, and could also hear the heavy breathing of some one on the front seat. For a time she stud- ied what to do or say, fearing' that if - they discovered her recovely, she would be liable 'to be again thrown into, the siame stupor. But at last her suspense became too heavy to bear. "WiVire are you takirng me to.-- what have I done to be dragfged away fromn my fii ends V" she s-aid. (i Silence, daughter ; we bear you -away from "heretic foes to your true friends," said the stern, deep'voice of him who. sat 'beside her. "That is not the voice of my father- wlhy do you call 'lle daugliter?" "I amn your spiritual father in the cliurch--your earthly father you will see, no o11101e." "Did you not just say that you Were taking ime to myl friends'?"' '.I .did--to your trle firiends'; to those who, caring for the' welfare of youtr'im- morltal soul, will ,preserve you froln here- sy,?;ild gLiard you from thecwicked temp- tations o'f the world. It is your father's wisl.'. "Then you are taking me to a Con- vent!" "I am, daughter-to a place .of inno- cence aind rest, where you can prepare by a life of devotion and penance for a better ' lfitfe hereafter." Katrine did not reply at the moment; h(e fat that she was alone and helpless, anld she determined to be calm, and study out some plan of deliverance. She knew well that shrieks or struggles would not avail her where there were none to hear them and come to her rescue; she was too indignant to weep. Naturally brave- hearted, she still Aw)ped to escape from' her captors. For some time they rode on in silence. At last the priest spoke. "You. seerm very calln and contented, daughter, he said. "Whalit cannot be avoided must be endured!" was her reply. "So young, and yet a philosopher!" he answered, in a sarcastic tone. "The day has passed'whlen philosophy is measured. by years. Trouble teachos philosophy, and the young learn it most easily. Wbhen shall we arrive at our point of destination.?" "In 'less than half an hour." "May I ask where it is t" "You may ask, but you will not get a reply. Let it suffice that you go where you will be safe fri'omn intrutsion, and where heretics cannot enter!" "But, father, as you call yourself, sup- pose that I am a heretic?" "You are not, daughter, you never have renounced the holy church in whose creed ydu were reared, within the pale of which you were christened a Catholic!" "Not formally, but is it natural tlat I should respect or revere a church which deprives me of liberty-of my very life, for what can life be to one who is walled in. from the beautiful world!" "Life eternal, my daughter." She made no reply, but her mind was busy. She was studying means of escape. For nearly an half hour the carriage drove rapidly on, and then stopped. "You must permit yourself to be blindfolded, daughter," said the priest. Knowing that resistance was useless, and would only make her future chanceA page: 132-133[View Page 132-133] worse, Katrine permitted a bandage to be tied around her head. While this was doing, she heard dis- tinctly, though it sounded as if 'at a dis- tance, a bell'strike four times. The thought struck' her that it was some village clock. She was lifted from the carriage and led forward. She heard the creaking of a gate which was opened to receive them, and its heavy clang as it was closed after them. She also heard it bolted. They now proceeded for a few steps over a gravelled walk, then up some stone steps, and here she agrain heard a door open and knew as she passed, by the change of atmosphere, and the feeling of a car- pot under her feet, that she was inside a house. She heard some one whisper to her conductor. All that she could catch of his reply were the words, "' She is here /" They moved onwards, descended some stairs, and again she felt that she was treading upon stone, but though the air was chill, the echo of their steps assured her that they were not out in the open, air. At last her conductor stopped, and removed the bandage from her eyes. At first the blaze of a' light which he held in his-hand blinded her so that she could scarcely distinguish his tall, gaunt form, robed as it was in the black surtout of the Jesuits. But as her eyes became used to the light, she saw that he was masked with black crape. She could only see a pair of eyes gleaming upon her. Pointing to an open door before them, the priest said: "There, daughter, is your home, until, -by your obedience and devotion to the tenets of the holy church, you are deemed worthy of one more cheerful and comfortable. Enter, meditate and pray. The Lady Superior will visit you during the day." Katrine first- cast a .hurried glance around her, and saw that sloe stood in a narrow passage, ceiled with stone, then looked in the direction indicated by the priest's hand. It was a small room or cell, with a grated iron door. Its furniture consisted of a small cot bed, one stool, and an al. tar, upon which a candle burned before an image of the Virgin Mary. An iron cross was riveted to the stone wall, over it. A human skull lay beside the can- dle. Upon a rude shelf near the head of the bed, was a pitcher and a loaf of brown bread. She shuddered as she contemplated the horror of a confinement there, but entered'as he bade her. The door was closed on her-she waited until the eclo of the priest's footsteps, ashe went away, were heard no more, and then her assumed fortitude gave way. Casting herself upon the cold, comfort- less bed, she wept--wept as if' her heart was brealing, O' Oh God, help me from this dreadful place," she moaned. A sound like a sigh, or a suppressed groan, fell upon her car.. It seemed so near her, that she stifled her sobs. to listen, but she heard it no more. At. last, wearied with weeping and worn out with fatigue, she slept. How long this slumber lasted she did not know, but when she woke up, she saw a lady, clothed in the black robes of the Catholic sisterhood, standing by her bedside. She held a lighted candle in her hand, and seemed to be regarding her with a look of pity. Though her fean- tures were thin and pale, there was a kind and benignant expression in her 'countenance, which at once gave Kat- rine a hope that she couldi mlake her a friend. "Sister, you sleep soundly," said the nun; "I have watched over you for two hloursr, but did not wish to disturb. your slumbers." "Oh, I was so sick, and sad, and weary that terrible as this place' is, I could not refrain fi'om sleep. 'If I must remnain here, I would prefer to sleep all the tile. But I am not to be locked up here all the timne, am 1?" "That will depend upon yourself, sis- ter. 'If you prove, after a few days' trial, to be penitent, ad to be,faithful -to our holy religion, you will be}j'emoved where you can enjoy many Oomiforts and plea- sures suited to your age and nature. But if you are hardened, and are hereti- cal in your belief, then heaven only knows when you will-be released ; perhaps you may-suffer more than confinement here. Thlerefore, sister, let me beseech you to yield to the rules of our Order." "But I am not one of the Order; wlhy do you caill lme sister .?" i"We' regard you as ,a novitiate ;'all womern are sisters, since the daughters of Eve first tasted the bitter cup of sor- row." " Why is that skull placed on, that altar?" "To remind you, that beautiful and proud as you now are, at .last you will have to come to that. Death is unspar- ing and merciless, but by praying to the holy Virgin for her intercession, by pen- ,ance and mortification of the body, and a due Obedience to your superiors in -the church, you may ever conquer death, and rise to a happy immortality. But ater, I mast nTot telm'y-it in netr the Vesper hour. You will find food and water on that shelf. I have renewed your altar-light. Farewell till after the matin prayers are said." The nun departed, locking the door as she went out. Katrine listened until the echo of her footsteps died aivay. She was chilled throughl with the cold damp air, and was about getting into the bed to endeavor to get. warm beneath the covering, when she again heard another long; deep sigh, which had before attracted her attention. It seemed to be very near-close beside her. Katrine was not superstitious. We have already sihown that she was no coward. But she shuddered as she bleard that sigh. It seemed to come up fromn the aching depths of a tortured heart. She determined to try, and, find out whence it ori'ginlated. "Who is there-from whom do I hear that sigh?" The only answer she got was a repeti- tion of the sigh. Slhe did not speak again, she glanced at the skull, shuddered and drew the scanty bedclothes over her chilled form. page: 134-135[View Page 134-135] CHAPTER XL. When Oby got to' the engine house, he related the story of the invasion of his home, and the abduction of Katrine, to some fifteen or twenty of the boys who bunked there; he raised such an excite- ment as none but those who understand the character of New York firemen can imagine. Many who know them not, think that our firemen are all. rowdies, men who wear their trousers inside of their boot-legs, smoke long cigars, and drink rum, swear and are never happy except when they are in a "m nuss, or a fight. Yet how wrong they are. A New York fireman is in his glory when he is daring death in his bold endeavor to save life and property, his hand and his heai t are ever open to the call of the. suffering. He is too brave, and there- fore too honorable to descend to the posi- tion of a rowdy. Penny-a-line scribblers can abuse them, sneaking Ittifogghers at the bar can denounce them, McKeeon: fashion hypocrites, who c1ll themselves Christieans, can cant about tiheir sins; but there is no true man, no good woman, I who does not admire the true. New York firemen. X But I have stepped aside from my t story. Hicksey, Oby's old and favorite chum, ( was one of the listeners while Oby de- t tailed his wrongs. ; Let's go and hunt for that poor girl," q he said; " even if it's into old Cross , John's house, or the Cathedral itself, I'll 3 go to find her." "Let's go and corner the old wretch in his crib, and if he don't produce the girl, hang him up over his own door-sill," said another. "No, that won't, do," said Hicksey; "we musn't go beyond the lawi while there is a law in the land. But if law can be used, it inust be, for this breaking into folks' houses, and dragging off youing girls, won't be tolerated, law or no law." ": There's no use in going to the Mayor or police--they're all either afraid of the Cathlolics, or else joined in with 'em," said -another. "We all know if a Mickey kicks up a row it is ten chances to one that he is not arrested, and if bv accident he is, that he is released withlout trial through, the influence of the Catholics. New York is getting to be a poor place for Amnericans to live in." "Well, that's all true as gospel," said Oby; "but talk can't find the girl. I move that we all form ourselves into a committee of 'Shadows,' such as the Chief of police has, and that we track and trace out every d d convent and nunnery and den that these Jesuit thieves own, and that then we seek for traces of this poor girl, and for. all others detained against their will, and when once they are traced that we release them." "Them's my sentiments," said Itcksev. "And mine-and mine--and mine," rejoined several others. "And furthermore, as Alderman Stur- tevant says, when he is cornered,' I would respectfully suggest that the Committee of the Whole meet here, every morn- ing, before working hours, to report to the Chief." "Who is the Chief F. "Some one whom you may elect, bro- ther firemen." "( Let Oby be the Chief," was the uni- versal cry. "I'd rather Hicksey would act," said Oby.. "Hicksey respectfully declines the po- sition as Chief,. but if he don't act as full private you may eat him," replied the first-named individual. "Oby, Oby!" cries all the boys. "Then' if you say Objy, it shall be Oby," cried the unanimously-elected chief.- ' "And 1'll not prove unworthy of being your foreman in this cause, I tell you! Now every. man secretly but steadily to his duty. 'Mingle amongst the Mickeys, watch their slightest hint or word, watch their churches, follow their black-robed priests, and if once on the track of one of themn, never leave binim till you know where. he bouses, not even if you hear the fire-bell. I shall take IIicksey on a country cruise withl me, but every :morn- ing at four o'clo(ck I shallll be here to re- port, and to receive reports. And hear, me, boys; so htelp me God, I'll never quit this Iliunt till I find that poor' persecuted girl, for I love her as well as if she were my own sister." "And we never will leave the track till you do," cried Hicksey. "Will we, boys?" "No, never P" was the universal cry. "Then,' boys, since you've made me. foreman, hear your orders. Be off to your duty, be careful not to let any- body make fools of you, and I'll resign in favor of the first man that'gets upon the track." "Three cheers for Oby, and oftf we' go," shouted one. of his enthusiastic friends. The cheers were heartily given, and in less than a minute, none remained in the house but the regular door-keeper, and Oby anid Hicksey. "-Hicksey," said Oby, "You know that out of town some ten or fifteen miles, like that den of Jesuits at Ford- ham, there are several nunneries. Now I think that these infernal wretches shad 'too much sense to keep that poor girl here in town. I'm going outside to look for her. Do you think you could dist guise yburself as a seedy Irishman looking for employment." "I might in the rags, but the brogue, that would make me vomit." ' Och, now sthan shtill and listen to me, Phelim darlint. Sure if its hungry we are, won't the howly Vargin and the blessed fathers fade us ." "Now, Hicksey, didn't I do that well ." "So you did, Oby, but it comes as un- natural a:s eating saw-dust for Indian meal, but I'll try." "Then we'll be off for the duds. We've got to get a dudheen or short pipe, a shi- lelah and a bundle of ragged clothes over our shoulders, and a bottle of whis- key well nigl empty in our pockets, and we'll be rigged complete." "Well, its a shame for an American to put on such a disguise, but I suppose it can't be helped! But I 'say, Oby, page: 136-137[View Page 136-137] Jdn't let's get hold of any of their old lothes!" "Why, Hicksey!" "Because we mlgnt catch' the itch; they all bring it over with them from the old country n CtIAPTER XLI. Three little Scenes; or Sketches,. in onec Chapter, to illustrate the workings of Jesuits in. our families, thro' Pretend- ed Protestants. SCENE I. Miss Eliza Jane Calroll, in company with her governess, was occupied in read- ing a. Catholic work,-which the former had placed in her hands. After a time, layiwg down the book, she asks: "Do you indeed think, Miss Munson, that the Catholic Church is the first and only church, the church alluded to in the 'bible, of which "Christ is the head?' That it is the first church, no one can deny ; but my dear pupil, we pro- testaits think that it has fallen into er- ror I How far I cannot tpll. I must do as-you are doing, read and learn." "But the Bible says that Christ is the head of the church ; these books tell me that the Pope who dwells at Rome is the head of the church." "Because he was appointed as the Vicar of Christ 1!" "By whom01 " "By Christ, through St. Peter. Did he not say to Peter, take care of my sheep?" "Yes, but did he mean to relinquish the care of his flock altogether?" "Oh no, he only placed Peter as an ruder-ahepherd on earth, while he as- cended to heaven, there to dwell forever- more!" "If he placed Peter and his successors on earth as under-shepherds, why do they now assume greater powers on earth than Christ did, who said, "Not my will but thine, oh, Father, be done?"Why do they say they can pardon sin, absolve crime, and when we die, translit us un- spotted to heaven?" "It is a sacred mystery, my dear girl. Have you ever attended a Catholic church?" "No, father has always forbidden me to do so!" "I have-and in their sweet, solemn music, in their mystic ceremonies, I'have found a. charm which was very hard to overcome. Sometimes, when I am weary of this cold, heartless world, I feel as if I should like to seek the calm, pleasant rest of the convent, where, listening to sweet music, and calm in my devotion, I might glide pleasantly through life, and at last pass into the upper and better world, untarnished by the dross of this I Theirs is a happy belief-were I not by birth and education- a Protestant, by choice I should be a Catholic!" "I should like to attend Catholic 'ser- vice, only once!" said Eliza Jane. "Well, let us go to Vespers on Sun. day next 1" "Father will object!" page: 138-139[View Page 138-139] "He- need not know it. He never asks where you go!" "Because, Miss Munson, he confides in me, that I will not go where he does not think it proper. It will not do to betray his confidence!"1 "No, my dear pupil, I would not counsel that.' ])ut, in search of truth, we may wander a few steps out of our path, and still not de'serve chiding. I have an anxiety to go once; if you will go with me, I will take all blame on my- self 1" "It shall beasyou wish, 2Miss Munson; but I almost feel as if I were doingr wrong!" It was the vesper hour. 'The deep- toned organ of the Cat hedral had opened its hundred lips, each one attuned to solemn melody. A dim and mystic light spread througl the vast building, casting a fitful, shadowy radiance on the riclly decorated altar, and the white-robed youths, who, with censors swinging slowly to and fro in their hands, filled the air with fragrant incense. Hundred of zealous worshippers knelt along the aisles tand in the pews, count- ing their beads, and repeating their "Ave Marias."' Hundreds more, but these were of the poorest class, outside and in the doorways, Inmuttering their prayers in a wild, irregular manrner. As the last notes of the organ were mournfully dying away, sad as the wail of a widowed spirit, two females wear- ing thick veils, quietly entered St. Pe- ter's. The reader will recognise in these Miss Munnson, the pretended Protestant, and Miss Eliza Jane Carroll, her gentle pupil. The former dipped her fingers in the holy water that stood at the entrance, made the sign of the cross on her brow, and in a low tone bade her companion do the same. Half unconsciously the girl obeyed. The govcrncss smiled, for her victim had takenl the first step. :Miss Munson led her pupil up the middle aisle, and. after pausing ,an instant, to make a slight obeisance to the picture of tile Holy Virgin, she took a seat in one of the front pews. It may be imagination, but a very acute observer would lhave declared a glrance of intelligence passed between the disguised governess and one of the "Fa- thers," who, with his companions, silent- ly stood before the altar; awaiting the commencement of the ceremonies, There is no denying that the services of the Catholic Church are calculated to inspire the mind with awe, and strike souls easily swayed, with terror. To the credulous and highly sensitive they pre- sent an irresistible fascination. This fascination is akin to that ex- perienced by those who witness stage-re- presentations for the first time. They belief in thle? /cali/y of' the ficti- ilous scenes 'before -them. To the the tawdry velvets and glittering tinsel seem brilliant as the magnificent drapery of true kings and queens. The half'-naked, bepainted women who impersonate sylph s and spirits, appear as bewitching as the ethereal beings they represent, and the whole scene is one of enchantment and bewilderment. But let the dull eve of morning take the place of the briliiantly-lighted chan- deliers, revealing but too plaily the dt- serted boxes and dreary -stage, let the actors and actresses appear as mere men and women, and how soon the illusion is completely destroyed. And so it is with the ceinemolies of the Romish ,Church. Strip the priest and his subordinates ofthlleir gaudy costumes; dienilse With the sweet and plaintive chants; bid adieu to the swinging cen- ser s and nlysterious light, an(d theystand forth, shallow, repulsive machines.. But to return to my story. The exercises began. The head Priest chant- ed a musical though monotonous recita- tive to which a female voice responded in strains of the sweetest melody. The greatest enthusiasm prevailed. Prayetrs to the saints and the Holy Vir- gin arose on every side. Many pressed forward I tant lostrlted thelmlselves be- fore t he painted semblance of the Saviour on thie cross, and rosaries were rapidly countedt in every direction. The fair Protestant visitor was just yielding to the intoxication of the scene around her ; her eyes gleamed with un- natural brilliance, her cheek glowed with an unusual crimson, and when the bene- diction pronounced, the rest of that vast Assmblage prepared to depart, she still sat motioiless, her small hands clasped tightly and her red lips slightly parted , gazing- ttmsiourly at the door through which the priest had disappeared. "W0T,lll you see more!" said the wily tempter at iher side. Miss (.'i'rroll answered by tianll affirm- ative nod of the head, and grasping her hand, the false friend and governess led her towards the back of the altar, where One of the pictures swinging aside, they were admitted into what appeared to be a small Chapel. SCENE II. Th place , into whch Miss Munsofi and her charge so mysteriously entered,I **.. ^ resembled, as I said before, a small chapel. The walls were heavily hung with rich dark silk, so as to deaden every sound within, and render thd existence of such a retreat totally unsuspected to all save the uninitiated. At the extretne end of the apartment hungc a curtain of spotless white.. Two figures represcl ting angcls hovcred above it, with wings outspread and 1lands ex- tended. They seelned to wait in readi- ness to grasp the snowy drapery, and re- Veat some mlystery concealed behind it. "Ile IclIapel was entirely deserted, and the faint glimmering of a few wax' tapers cast a flickering light upon the objects around. As the two females advanced, a voice exclaimed, in soiemn tones, "Be not afrtaid, seekers after the true faithl. The holy Church will give strelngli to your tfaltering steps, and peace to your troubled souls." Miss' Carroll tremlnlled violently; but her companlion supported hler to a seat, then, taking a silver goblet from a small table near by, she asked the half fainting girl to drink its contents. Mechanically the misguided pupil yielded to the kind and, persuasive ordls of her governess. Thle draught was delicious. It soothed her agitation. She tremblled no more, but drowsy pleasant feeling of languor began to steal over her slight frame. And now sounds'of the softest music filled the air, anon gradually swthing into loud and glorious songs of triumph, and then dying away to a murmur faint as the whispering of the summer wind in rose-wreathed bowers. Suddenly a flood of lighllt streamed into the darkened room. Thle golden angels caught the pure white curtain and drew its folds apart. page: 140-141[View Page 140-141] A beautiful woman was discovered holding upon her knees a lovely naked babe, around whose infant brow floated a halo of heavenly brightness. Three old and venerable-looking men, with bowed forms and locks of grey, bent humbly before the woman. "Behold," exclaimed the voice that had spoken before, " the wise men come from the Fast to worship the blessed Virgin Mary and her son. Let the whole world do likewise." And angels let fall the curtain, and from the invisible singing burst forth a hymn to "Mary mother of Jesus." When the last strains of the hymn died away, the angels again grasped the pure drapery, and the awe-struck girl beheld what appeared to be a throne of solid gold. Seated upon it was a dignifi- ed-looking man, arrayed in costly robes of bilk and velvet, nnd- wearing upon his head a crown of gold. Around him many people knelt, their gaze humbly bent upon the ground, as though unable to endure the dazzling light that surrounded him to whom they bowed. Beside this earthly monarch stood one clad in long flowing robes, with thi halo of light that tells of Iteaven encireling his head. In his hand he' held several golden keys. "Believe oi ye who are faint of heart!" said the mysterious voice. "St.. Peter giveth to our sovereign Pontiff the keys of Ileaven, Purgatory and Hell, saying, "and thou shall be the Vicar of Christ upon earth and all followers of the Holy Catholic Church shall obey thee in all things." As before, the scene was soon hidden from view whilst the unseen band chant- ed, ' All praise, all honor! all glory to the Vicar of Christ--Guardian of Heaven and Hell! Greatest, highest and mighti- est upon earth!" Once more the angels raised the drape- ry and kneeling before a cruc;{x -wa seen a pale but beautiful girl. Her dress was severely simple, without ornament of any kind save a small jet cross that lay upon her bosom. A black veil was bound around her, head so carefully as to conceal every tress of hair, and a string of .black beads hung from her girdle. Her large blue eyes were raised towards Heaven and a sweet smile rested upon her lips. "Thrice blessed are' they," said the voice in softened tones, "who in their youth leave the trifals, temptations, and fleeting pleasures of the world to become the brides of Heaven.' 'Peace and happi- ness smile upon them. As quiet and un- troubled streams their lives glide on. 'hey are the beloved of the rgentle Mary, and clouds and storms o'ershadow them not." The figure of the kneeling nun was hidden from view. A few broken words came from the lips of Miss Carrol. "What is it you say, my dearest pupil I Tell me your thoughts?'" And the gover- ness laid the girl's drooping head upon her bosom. "One of these would I be," was the murmured reply; "a sister of these calm and patient ones who know no worldly care or sorrow." "Well said, daughter." The convert started. Beside her stood a tall man attired in the robes of a priest. "You have chosen well, and you shall become one of that happy band who have died to the world and live alone tor the Church and its advancement. But in your own heart must the secret of your conversion be locked. Father, sister or friend must not share it. Can you be firm?" "'I can," but the girl spoke mournfully, as though she cared not to have a CTutce sAht cwld not confide to those she loved, and more than 'all to her indulgent father. The priest noticed her hesitancy. His brow grew dark for a moment. "Daughter," he said, laying his hands upon her head," I bless you as a follower and servant of the Catholic Church. Because lest you return again to false doctrines you lately cast off, great is our power and terrible our pun- ishmnents. Look!'" The .white curtain had vanished, and in its stead one of sombre black was up- held. by two demons, from whose mouths darted flames of fire. Stretched on some infernal instrument of torture, was the body of ,n maiden as young and fair as thdie nun who had been seen calmly pur- suing her devotions. Two men whose faces' were; concealed by masks, quietly stood one at the head and one at the feet *of the tortured one. Drops of blood were slowly falling front the strained limbs, and they touched the floor with a cold pattering sound. "The torture for all traitors to our Holy Chulrcl," sternly said the same voice that had been heard. in the preceding scenes. Aliss Carroll had started from heer seat, and with fear and horror painted on her countenance, she continued to look on that fearful pic- ture until it faded from her sight. Immediately another presented itself. A small and dreary cell. In one corner a bundle of filthy straw, on which had been cast the mangled form of the apoZ} tate nun, without the slightest particle of clothing to protect her ghastly wounds from the cold and poisoning air. "In pain and loneliness shalt the false one repent of her sins," repeated the voice, Again the picture changed. The frightful-looking beings were drag- ging the almost lifeless prisoner to a black pit-one loud Vslri. of dgony brat, from her lips. Regardless of the soul-piercing cry they hurled her in. "Thus perish"--but the horror- stricken witness heard no more. She had fainted in the arms of her governess. SCENE III. Pale as a stricken lilly, Jane Carroll lay upon the couch in her own pleasant little room. Close by her pillow, hold- ing one of her hands between her own, sat the ever-watchful Miss Munsei. "Oh, how terrible-how terrible!" moaned the frightened girl, and she closed her eyes, as though to shut out some painful remembrance. "The punishments of the Catholic Church are very severe," mildly replied the false preceptress; "but only those who have committed she great sin feel the weight 'of them. You, my dear child, I'm sure would never err. There- fore you need have no fealr. You have' embracedl our fCattlh youu Laz-e notl\;ng j( fear as long as you swerve not from it. See how faithfilfly I performed my duty. Even you did not suspect I was other than a Protestant. "Any means which can accomplish the great end of bringing to us converts, are sanctioned by our Holy Fathers. 9"The woorld might accuse me of deceit and duplicity, in the course I have pur-- sued towards you, but my confessor assures me that I shall meet with great reward hereafter. page: 142-143[View Page 142-143] "There are hundreds of my vocation in this city, who have been introduced in Protestant filmilies, for the express pur- pose of leading their pupils to the only true religion. The Virgin grant what they may all be as successful as I have been. And nriv, my dear Miss Carroll, I will ]cave you. Endeavor to sleep. But before I gt ljet minie give you this cross and rosary, and if doubt again assails you, repeat your prayers and you will find comfort." As soon as she had left the room Miss Carroll thuried her face in the pillow, and wept bitterly. "Have I done wrong?" she mentally and herself, in thus abandoning the creed of my father? I long for a quiet- a peaceful-existence, and the new guides I have chosen promise it to me. I would not desert my kind parent whilst living, but if Death, that pitiless de- stroyer, should take him from me where could I find better consolation than with- in the walls of a convent?" Leaving her bed, she knelt down by its side, and placing the .small wooden crucifix before her, began telling her beads. At this moment the door opened sud- denly, and her father entered the apart- ment. He was attired for a walk, and had evidently come to request the attendance of his daughter. But the cheerful words he had begun to utter died upon his lips, as he gazed with surprise and anger plainly depicted on his countenance, upon the kneeling girl, the cross, and the rosary. "Eliza Jane!" he exclaimed, in a hoar- ser tone than she ever had heard him use before, "what means this mummery? Surely you are not in earnest making your prayers to that piece of wood? Speak, are you mad, or is this a farce got up flor your own private amusement?" She rose to her feet, shrinking back frim her father's angry gaze, but the fear of the torture predominated, and assuming a courage she did not feel, she. replied- ' It is no farce, sir-neither am I mad." ' In the name of heaven, what means this conduct then?" Answer me, and answer me truly, and for the very first time in his life, Mr. Carroll roughly seized his child, and compelled her to remain near him. "It, means, father, that I have long struggled in my mind, as to which was the right road to heaven, and I think I may safely say, at last I have found it." "And it is!" "By means of the Catholic religion!" "By rueans of th. Devilt and lis irmps, foolish girl. 'Tell me when and where you became a convert? Who gave you these senseless things," and he snatched the cross and beads from her lhand, arid threw them to the other end of the room. "Father, I cannot, dare not, will not tell." It was the first time she had ever openly disobeyed him. His cheek grew livid with rage. "You mast either answer my ques- tion," he exclaimed in a stifled voice, "or leave the home of your childhood for- ever.. . I. give you a, day to consider. If at the end of that time you are ready to listen to .reason, you can Ireturn to your place in ,my heart. If not, as I said be- fore, you must leave this house, and let those whose counsels you have preferred to listen to, in preference to the advice of your own father, in future guide and pro- tect you." Eliza Jane stood rigid and motionless as a statue, as the sound of his retreating footsteps fell upon her ear, nor did she awaken from her stupor, until she felt the arms of Miss Munson around her, and her kiss upon her cheek. "My sweet friend, for friend I may now call you," said the tempter, in her bland tones, " do not give way to des- pair; You have achieved a glorious conquest. Be firm-be steadfast, yours will be a golden crown." Slowly the fixed limbs unbent, and the sorrow-laden heart of. the poor girl found vent in ftesh' tears as she again threw herself upon her bed. "My dear, good father," she sobbed, I never knew he could look stern till to-day. He has ever been so gentle, so loving to me. It is a hard trial indeed, Miss Munson, to be obliged to grieve him thtus." "The salvation. of your soul requires it," was the tirln reponse. "Fatlhers, mothers, hushbands and friiends, must count as nithing before the welfare of our church!-" "And what am I to do, Miss Aunson . ] This house can no longer bi my home. ' Alas! I thave spent so Inany happy hours c here. I know not where to seek a refLuge." s "Come with me, my beloved pupil, I r will guide you to a haven where only e rest and peace are found. Soon shall t the woes that now distress you fly before , the calm teachingls you shall listen to.- Together then we will petition the merci- ,ful Virgin to tun n the steps of your father to the right path-to save his soul from the ruin that seems threatening it. You will go with me, my dear pupil?" "I am. ready," replied the victim of superstitionl. "Well, to-morrow we will, take our departure, and you shall ere long- become as contented as that hlappy beinlf we saw kne0elnlg it, tUt, ^p, Oh ' wY)At sacri- lege," she continued, stooping to raise the cross and rosary from the floor, where Mr. Carrol had thrown them. The cru- cifix was first pressedl to her own lips, and then held to the lips of her pupil.- A prayer was repeated by both, and they commenced making preparations for their departure. Miss Carrol's resolution ftiled her once or twice, but thoe dreadful rectembrance of the punishments in the power of the Romish Church to inflict, rose up before her, and she steadfastly purAled her work. page: 144-145[View Page 144-145] CHAPTER XLII. OUR next scene is laid in a pleasant little village, some ways inside of twenty miles from New York. Did I wish to bring individuals into notice, I should be more particular; and in fact I cannot, without endangering friends, describe either the village or the sign of the tavern in which the,following scene took place. Like all country taverns,' the bar- room, which contained office and all, was the usual rendezvous in the evening for the politicians of the village, and a special forum for the discussion' of the Maine liquor' law. The walls of the apartment were hung around with circus bills, store advertisements, pictures of "Mose " taking a Third Avenue drive with "Lize," political caricatures, &c. Such was the general class of pictures in the aforesaid tavern, many .of them caricatures, we must acknowledge; but a picture may accidentally be true, as well as that a word spoken in jest may find its echo in the truth. 'The landlord behind the bar was a portly, jolly-faced Boniface, ever stand-' ing ready to offer " accommodations for man and beast." Some of his custoiners looked as if they rtequired accommr da- tions with the last named cattle, yet others there were, who, seated around a table covered with newspapers, and dis- cussing the politics of the day, were of a better order It was about eight, perhaps a little later in the evening, that two strangers entered the room. Though their faces were not coarse or repulsive, their dress was very common, rather ragged in fact.. Each of them, at the end of a stoiit stick balanced over his shoulder, carried a bundle, apparently filled .with clothing. Their look was rather Irish, but when one of them addressed the landlord, the fact was out, their brogue smacked too strong of Erin to be mistaken. "May I be so bould as to ax which is the landlord 2" said one. "I'm the landlord-what do you want?" Was the reply, in a not over courteous tone of the landlord. "And the blessin' of the Lord be wid ye then, sir!" said the first speaker. "It's Phelim an' meself that's dry, and hun- gry and slapy, and we'd like to be afthor stoppin" wid ye for a night!" "We're full-all full!" said the land- lord gruffly. "Wid men that carry the brads wid 'em, an' are able to pay well for all they order?" asked the Milesian, shaking a well-filled purse at the landlorid. The face of the latter softened from its vinegar aspect in a moment. What aa ameliorating effect the sight of gold has upon the tempers of some men and women, an effect almost magical. "What will you please to have, gen- tlemen!" said the landlord. "Fus't we'd like to 'trate all hands around, an' then its the best you ham ia the house we'd be afther atin'. Its thrue that we're only workin' men, but we that makes the money the hardest are ever the readiest to spend it-it's only the rich men that count coppers! Isn't it so, Phelinm darlin'?" "Sure it is!" "Then, ,inltlernen, all of ye's step iup to the bar and drink, wid us to the health of the w*orkin' men!' Nearly all of the occupants of the bal- room rose quickly to accept the inivita- tion; but two young men, themselves evidently mechanics, judging lby their hard rhands and coarse oarb, who were reading newspapers, did not rise. The man who had been addressed as Phelim, noticed this and said: "Yez look like workin' men--yer not ashmled to drink wid the likes of us, are yez . "We are not ashamed to drink with men that are mechanics, but"We never drink except when we are thirsty!" an- swered one of the young men drily. "Then vou're not like meself, jist now --for its dry as a suckin' baby I am!" Thus saying, though casting a sinister look. at the two who refused to join in the treat, the man turned and joined the members of the bar. After they h,.d drank and ordered supper, the two Irishmen seated them- selves near the reading table to wait till their repast was prepared. The man who had spoken first, looked at the paper which one of them was reading, and then in a tone sufficiently loud to be heard. by the reader, said to his companion: "Phelim, there's one o' them native papers found its way out here; what d'ye think uv that!" "If they don't take the Freeman's 9 , Journal and Boston Pilot as an antidote, they're all bound to hell, sure!" replied Phelinm. The man who was reading lowered his paper, and fixed his eyes upon the speakers. is That's one of the men that would not drink wid us," continued Phelim;." too proud, maybe" . "Yes, too proud!" said the man, fold- ing uply hllis paper, and laying it on the table. "We are American mechanics, and .can choose our associates, and are not in the habit of receiving favors ft om foreign vagabonds and interlopers!" "Vagabonds and interlopers?. What d've mane?" cried the first Irishman, rising firom his chair. "Just what I say," replied the Ameri- can coolly, also rising, so as not to be caught unawares. "Nine-tenths, of you Greeks,are paupers, shipped out here by the Catholic Church to underwolk us, undermine our institutions, and destroy us. Like snakes and rats, you do no good, but destroy everything in your reach!" ' Be jabers, isn't that personal, Phe- lim! Sure it's ourselves 'll have satis- faction for the same, or we're no fit re- presentatives of the honor of the ould counthry!" , The companion of the first American now arose, exhibiting such a form, erect -lithe, but muscular--as few can show but our hard-working men. "If you want satisfaction," he said, " both of you can have it, and needn't wait long either. We don't allow Greeks to put on airs here" "Maybe they'll taiche you Tome new airs, if ye'Ull only give them a fair chance." page: 146-147[View Page 146-147] "You can have chance enough--what do you want?" "Only a fair field wid you two, and if we can't bate the heretic sowls out uv yez, why you're our masthers, that's all!" "That chance you can have-come along, we'll soon find a place." "But I said alone, and widout wit- n'esses," said the Irishman, observing that the crowd in the bar-room were about to follow. "Alone and without witnesses it shall be." said the American. "The first man, besides Charley here, that follows me, makes me his enemy. Now, come on, you bloody Greeks, and learn your les- son. It won't take you long!" "Gentlemen, your supper is ready!" said the landlord, not wishing so soon to lose such good customers. "Kape it on the table, sir; we'll be back in a jiffy, so soon as we've given these young men a lesson in philosophy." The four hurried away from the tav- ern, and passed on to the outskirts of the town. In an open lot the leaders paused, and turning to the Irishmen, said: "We're not likely to be interrupted here! Suppose we pitch in!" "It's a very good place for a plug muss, that's a fact, but somehow I've got conscientious scruples against striking an American!" said the first Irishman. "And so .have I. I'd rather lam ten ] Greeks than hit one American!". said 1 Phelim. "Who the devil are you, and what's l become of your brogue?" cried the first ' American. "We're white men-the brogue has I dried up! Don't you see that you've 1 converted us F' "Converted the devil. There's some mystery in this which you'll oblige us by explaining--you're Americans?" "Yes, good and true ones, and we be- lieve you are the same Sort." "We are both. members of, the order of k;-*:-k*K*k ^g- !, "Then we can trust you. We are New York Fi! emen-belong to, oldl Thirteen. My name is. Oby, his is Hicksey. We've come out here to try and get on the track of a poor young girl that the Jesuits have stole away, and got into some one of their inferial con- vents. There is a convent near lere an-4 were told?" "Yes-it is that large brick building out there about a quarter of a rmile from town. Do you think she is there ." "We don't know, but we traced the carriage that carried her off in this direc- tion." "On what day was it that she was car: ried off ." asked the other. "Just a week ago last night. "Then I wouldn't wonder if they had got her here-for it'll be a week ago in the morning when I was up early-for I always have to eat early to get to work in time-that I heard a carriage drive by our house very fast. I wondered then what folks were travelling so soon for, for it was before day-light." "I wouldn't wonder if it was the car- riage that they took her off in-it would take 'em nearly half a night to drive out here. But I'm bound to find out. Ytou'll help us to get her out if she is there, won't you." "Yes, with forty more like us-- help to get her out, and to burnm the bloody old crib down after she is out 1" "Well, boys, let's go back to the tav- ern and smile. Me and Hicksiey U1 have to act Irish again. But what'll they say about our not fighting?" "Oh, we'll tell 'em that we reasoned the matter, arid concluded that it was better to drink than to fight. We must keep our disguise to help us in finding out if the girl is really there.. I'm goin' over there in the morning to ask for work, and if I can get in, in any way, it won't be long before I 'report progress,' as they say on our committees." t' "Well, back we go, but mind, as Greeks, you must, keep civil tongues in your heads, for some of our boys are pretty hot-headed 'and quick-handed. It is but a word and a blow with them, and the blow generally comes first." The party now returned to the tavern, much to the joy of the landlord, who lit- tle expected his guests would be in a fit state to enjoy their supper. And here for the present we'll leave them, hoping they'll have a good time of it. page: 148-149[View Page 148-149] CHAPTER XLIII. ON the morning after the night which closed our last chapter, Obv, disguised as before, started on his errand. It is hard for an American to be a spy, but Oby was working in " the right cause"-that is, for her to whom God had linked his heart, and against that papal despotism which must be crushed, or else we all must become slaves to a power whose name has been written, and its history promulgated in the blood of its victims. Oby, after leaving Hicksey and his new-found American friends at the tav- ern, in the morning, proceeded leisurely towards the Convent. It was a large, three-story brick building, had no pecu- liarities to distinguish it from any other country residence, except that it was sur- rounded by a high brick wall. The only apparent entrance was a large oaken gate, cross-barred with iron, and thickly studded with spikes,; and a narrow wick- et gate, through which only one could pass at a time. There was a bell knob at this gate, and Oby pulled it. The answer was. but a single heavy toll, al- most as loud, Oby thought, as a fire bell. "I 'spose they want everybody to know that somebody is coming," mut- tered Oby, when he heard it. In a moment a little sliding wicket in the gate was puthed aside, and Oby saw in the rude frame a picture, It didn't look as if the Almighty .had had any hand in making it-if Oby had not been 1 pre-informed that the Devil always put on good looks when he met sinners on earth, he would have thought it was the Devil. The face had but one eye in it, the other had 'dried up.' There had been a nose, 'but by the ruins, it looked as if it had ,been bitten off. The small pox had dug pits all over the face, but they were now filled with dirt, and of course it was levelled off. "What d'ye want here " asked the face. "I want to see the Masther, plasa sir," replied Oby, broadening his' brogue as much as possible. "An' what for '" said the' face, which by the way was busied in drawing whiffs of smoke through a short, black pipe. "I'll be after tellin' him that when I see him sure," said Oby. "An' poor it is. your chance will be to see him widout I say the word, an' niver an eye will you lay on him until I know what it's for you've come." "Then sure I'll tell you. I'm but late- ly in from the old counthry, and its bat poor times I've had since I've been here in the could-hearted land, and as I'm a true and thried Catholic, I thought his holiness might give a poor man lke nme a bit uv employment. I'm a first-rate gardener, used to work for Daniel O'Con- nell, God bless the likes uv him, and for the Lord o' Munster-no, the Bishop of Munster I mane--I can saw wood and split it, or shovel coal." "Can you kape a silent tongue in your head i" asked the face. "Y is, when necessity requires it, or the masther orders it." "I'll go and see his Riverence then, and maybe he'll spake to you." The face disappeared, but the wicket being left open, Oby had a chance to see what was below the face. He saw a Btoclt, dumpy figure, with one wooden leg, stumping up a flagged pathway, to- wards a broad flight of stone steps, which led into the building. At the door the figure had to wait at least three minutes before he could obtain entrance. Oby, although he had heard of the care taken to keep all secret and secure in these nunneries, wondered that they should be so careful, even of a servitor in tho establishment, and begfan to consider whether his chances of getting out, after being once in, were sure. But the thought that Katrine O'Sullivan was there nerved him on, and fireman-like, he determined to venture within, either to perish there, or to land the treasure for which he soughlt, "While the face and figure" were gone, Oby scanned the grounds through the wicket, so far as could. He observed ,that the grounds were extensive, well supplied, with fruit and shade trees, handb omely laid out-that a large hot- house was filled with exotics and plants, and also'observed that the implements of labor carelessly left the night before upon the ground indicated . that there were .some Greeks already employed on the premises. He had however but a few minutes for observation, for the " face and figure" soon returned.. "The masther 'll look at ye," he said, as ' he opened the gate to let Olby in. ;"An' its a right dacent boy he'll see then," said Oby, as he entered. "The " figure," fronted by the " face," stumped arong ahead of Oby into the building. Pointing towards the first door to the left of the hall after entering, he said- "Go in there, but be after knockin' belfore, or you may get some knockin' ye don't like afterwards." ' Spiritual, may be," said Oby. "Bedad, be careful what ye say; if his Riverence takes ia wee drop or two too much, it's not for the likes of us to know about it." The " face and figure" left, and Oby knocked at the door indicated. A son- orous "Come in" greeted his ear, and he opened the door. His. eyes were almost dazzled at the first glance of the splendid fwurniture of the room. It was so literal- ly ceiled with mirrors, that no matter where any one stood, his every look and action could be noticed by any other per- son in the room. Thick carpets of worked velvet were on the floor-the tables, so- fas, ottomans, and chairs were all of the richest and rarest kind. A man of middle age, dressed in a robe de-chamber, reclined carelessly on a sofa, one of his. slippered feet resting up- on an ottoman. He had a paper in his hand, and Oby, on glancing at it, r his eye over the man, and wondered IW a native paper could ever get within those walls, but he recognized it too surely to be mistaken. "You want employment," said the gentleman. "Yis, plase your Riverence," said Oby. "Who taught you to call me Rever- ence-how do you know what I am V" page: 150-151[View Page 150-151] Sure, sir, be not offended wid me- the bull-dog lookin' man at the gate there, called you by the same, and I thought I must be afther following the example." "Well what can you do--can you read." "No, your Riverence-my edication has been entirely neglected." "That's right-poor folks have no bu- siness to read-education is a curse-it is the only thing that can injure our ho- ly Church! But you can work, eat and drink, I suppose ." "Yis, your Riverenee, I can do my full share at all of .them same." "You understand gardening?" "Yis your Riverence." "And can do general work?" i Yis your Riverence." "Well-you can go down to the kitchen and commence your labor by getting your breakfast! I shall dis- charge .a man to-day, whose place you will fill-I discharge him for using his eyes and his tongue too freely. Now you can understand a servant in this es- tablishment sees nothing, hears nothing, says nothing, but what he is told to do." "Sure, that's right, your Riverencel it's meself that can be dumb everywhere savin' at the confessional-there, on the I peril of my soul, I have to spoke out." '3You'll do, my man--you'll do," said tlgentleman. "By the way, what is 1 your name?" " Pathrick Daly, your Riverence." "Daly-are you related to our fi'iend, 1 Judge Daly I " Onlv a poor cousin uv the same, Sir." s 1 "Well-we will see to you. Go to your breakfast." "Sure, sir, where will I find it-must I smell the taties a bilin' and the mate a brilin', and then follow my nose a. "No," said the priest iinging a bell, "I'll save you the trouble-a servant will show you the way." At the ring of the bell the " face and figure" did not appear, but a fat, short jolly looking man with a white apron en- ttered the room. "Is it me yer Riverence is wanting?" "Yes, Brady, you rogue, 'tis you that I'm wantipg. Go and give this man some breakfast and then set him to work--and d'ye hear--what are you going to send up to me at my usual hour?"a "A boiled capon,with mushroom sauce, yer Riverence--some trout sent in ice from Sault St. Marie by Father Roddin- a female prairie fowl sent by the editor bf the Shepherd of the Valley from St. Louis, and as nice a bit. of devilled (I beg your Riverence's pardon) turkey, as ever your Riverence tasted. And cofee-- Java, ,as brown as sherry and as clear!" "Well, Brady, I think I can make a breakfast off of that! Take care of this man and treat him well!" "Sure your Riverence I will! He looks lane: I think I can fatten him up a bitI Oby departed with his conductor and the priest resumed the perusal of the paper which he held in his hands. Shortly after Brady entered with ]lil breakfast. With a freshened appetite, he "pitched in," as the Cincinnati police say. CHAPTER XLIV. PooR KATRINE For four days she lingered in her lonely cell, living on bread and .water, 'chilled with the cold damp air, and her fortitude failed her. Time after time she had been called upon by the same nun who had first spoken to her, and by whom she had been urged to re- turn to the church and to the faith of her fathers. Often, too, she had heard that strange sigh, so heavy and so near to her, but she could not learn from whom or whence it came. Upon pro- raising to attend. confessional and nmass, at last she was permitted to ascend to a small, but!etter furnishel room, where some comforts were allowed. She could look out uDon a gardleu, wlhere p)ersons vere at work, and could once more look up at thel glorious sun as it rolled up to- wards its zenith. For an hour after she entered the romla, which had been locked behind her, she ,.gazecd out of tltat window. 'She was aDout turling, away and casting 'herself on the little bedl in the room, when the 'singular -actions of one of the laborers in the garden attra cted her at- teution. he was evidently endeavoring to at- tract. her attentioun for; le was beckoninglr with lhis hand and gazing utp at the win- dow. lHis appearance was singular. His short moenkey jacket, low crowned felt hat, which looked as if it had beenu made inl the year oVm; his corduroy breeches, as well s the manner in which he rested onl the handle of his spade, signified that he was one of the sons of Erin, and evident- ly green on the sod. What could he want of her. Born of Irish parents, the poor girl knew that most of her besotted ignorant race were no more than bond- slaves to the Priesthood, and she feared that more, trials and treaclelry awaited her. But as the gardener came nearer thc window, she thought she had seen his countenance before. Intently she ex- aminled it, but when he called her name and said : "Katrine, it is me-- Oby-- I am hlere to get you out," then in a moment shie recognized the noble hearted fire- man. At this moment, she heard a noise at the door of her roomi-some otne was unlocking it. Quick as thought she cast her handkerchef, upon which her name wits marked, from the window. As she saw him start forward to catch it ere it touched the ground, the *door opened and the Lady Superior entered. Katrine saw the storm-cloud lowering on her brow, and would have spoken, A at the instant her ear caught the sound of harsh words in the garden below' ald re- Ceomishdt Oby's voice. He too was in trouble. "So," said the lady superior--" this is the way you abuse our clemency. Back to your cell, ingrate, back to your cell, and there in penance and in prayer learn to know our power!" page: 152-153[View Page 152-153] Katrine knew how powerless she was there, and shuddering, followed her harsh directress back to the damp and loath- some dungeon which she had so lately left. And once more she was alone. The heavy iron door had again been bolted upon her, and ere the echoes of its crashing close had died away, she again heard that deep-drawn sigh, which be- fore had attracted her attention and chilled her soul with a dread of some- thing supernatural. "Who is there-who is that suffers, and who that can pity me?" she cried. Her only reply was another deep drawn, heavy sigh. Upon applying her ear at the grates of her cell; she became satisfied that the sound came from the ' cell next to 'hers, on the same side, and once more she spoke: "For the love of heaven-for the sake of a poor, wretched, friendless girl, tell me who you are, speak to me-be you friend or foe, fiend or angel, do but say one word. This solitude is terri- ble 1" A sigh so deep-so mournful that it E almost seemed like a moan, was all that s she could hear hi answer, t Bursting into tears she threw herself s upon the cold, cheerless cot. Poor girl, I she felt as if she was indeed forsaken by h GQo^lnd by man. a * * * * F Oby had little dreamed that his every iJ motion was watched, from the hour that I he took spade in hand in that garden, a and when after long and weary watching f he espied the lovely but pallid face of Katrine at the window, he thought that h his labor was nearly over. He had, in his own mind, but to go and inform his comrades in the village-where she was, and at once to rescue her. But he had just clutched the handkerchief which she had cast towards him, in his hand, when, dressed in his black gown, the same priest who at first employed him, touched him on the shoulder. "That was neatly caught, my lad!". said the priest, "Hand it over to mel" "I'll see you damned first!" said Oby, in his surprise forgetting both his brogne and respect. "Here, seize this heretic spy!' cried the priest. In a moment the other laborers were rushing toward the spot. Oby saw that his chances were bad, so he lifted his foot to that portion of the body where the priest deposited his dinner, by pugil- ists called the " breadbasket." The priest reeled over, and then Oby turned upon the '"Greeks" spade in hand. The first lie dropped, the rest opened a lane for him, and the brave lad made for the gate. Here he was met by the " figure and the face" alluded to 'three chapters since. The face grinded hyenecally, the the figure doubled up tigerishy for a spring, but Oby dauntlessly 'went in. With one foot in the abdloinall and a hand in the visual portion of the " face and figure," he left both in a picturesque position in the gateway. Then unbolt- ing the gate he made tracks for the vi- lage, as if he had heard an alarm bell and wanted to carry the horn for the irst machine. And thus for the moment We will leave him. CIIAPTER XLY. WE have for a few chapters lost sight of one of our heroines, or victims if you like the term better-Eliza Jane Car- roll. In the third Scene of Chapter 41 we left-her preparing to depart from lier parental home, led away by the Jesuit tool which had been introduced into her father's house.. Again we will glance at her. She is preparing to leave that home. In a small trunk she packs such linen and other clothing as are absolutely neces- sary for use. And stranoe, very strange, she puts a small pocket bible, the last gift of her loved mother, in the trunk. Tears are flowing from her eyes-slowly eoursing down her pale cheeks, bat she thinks that she is doing her duty and sorrowfully ventures the sacrifice. It was after midnight when she was prepared. Miss Munson, attired in tra- velling apparel was in the room. "How can we go. My trunk is heavy, how can it be carried away?" asked Miss Carroll. "There will be a carriage at the next corner below the house " replied the Jesuit Sister. "Feeling certain that this would be the result of the tyrannical act of your father to coerce you into his heretical belief, I have prepared for your t escape!" "But our trunks? They are heavy " suggested Miss Carroll. "Even there I am prepared," replied her governess. With a shrill chirup, like that of a bird, she made a cry. It was answered by two "Greeks," who were admitted by Mr. Carroll's Irish servant girl. Miss Munson pointed to the trunks. The hairy-teethcd heathen said nothing, but took up the baggage and " travell- ed." "Come--ct us depart; why should we linger?" said Miss Munson. "My father, my dear father! How can I leave him?' said the girl, half-sob- bing. "Has he not with cruel sternness told you that you must obey his here- tical will, or else leavn the hntme of your childhood forever? 1 quote his own words!" "I have a duty to perform to him '" "But my dear pupil, you have a high- er duty. It is to your Church and your God-to the spouse whom you have wedded in your soul. Remember the pictures in the Chapel!" "I do-I dol" murmured the girl, shuddering, " and I am ready to go." Stepping so lightly that there was no echo to their foot-falls, the party left the house. As the cidevant Miss Munson had,de- clared, there was a carriage waiting for them at the corner below her father's house. And here, for the time being, we will leave thee, to turn to other scenes and other characters of equal import to our narrative. page: 154-155[View Page 154-155] CHAPER XLVI. AT anchor, in the waters of the Hlud- son, in a position from which the beauti-. ful shores of our harbor are seen to thle fullest advantage, reclines, like a bird up- on its native element, a vessel which would gladden the eyes of a seaman to gaze upon. It is a clipper brig of some two hun- dred tons, rigged in the most perfect style of modern marine architecture, and with every adornment which taste and lavish expense could bestow.. Iler bull was perfectly black, relieved only bIy ag streak of wlite, which, in its wavy out- line, resembled a band of ribbon. lHer spars were raked aft to a degree but sel- dom witnessed--the top-gallant and royal masts appearingr like willow twigs, so litheand delicate were their proportions. Everything in the tout ensemble of this vessel, was remrnarkable for its trim, man- of-war-like regularity; the ropes were carefully coiled upon their belaying pins; tle guns-for she was heavily armed for so small a eraft--were polished, and evi- dently well prepared for active service- thus speaking the, well disciplined crew, the able commander, and the pride of both. The hlour was worthyv of the scene- for it was midnight in midsummer--and the breeze which ruffled the surface of the water was redolent with the perfume of innumerable flowers which came waft- ed from the distant shores. And the pale-visaged Aslarte of' the antique Pho- enician looked catmly hnl and smilingly downward ; gildinpg ni1l with a pure ef- fulgence of splendor, which seemed like a hallowing influence cast upon the world . . . . . As the bells of the different churches pealed forth the single note which an- nounces the hour after midnight, a boat, containing 'two persons, put out from one of the many wharves which bound the city. Rapidly the little vessel was urged forward, in the duiection of the brig de- scribed 'above. In the splace of about five minutes she was alongside, and the person who occupied the' stern sheets, grasped the main ropes, and mounted upon deck. Pax Vobiscum /" exclailned a man, emerging from the shadow of the fore- mast. Et cum spirituo!" replied the new- comer, extending his hand to the person whom he addressed. "TIt is well padre; you are so well disguised, I should not have rccogrrnised you, but for your voice." "Use the language of our holy church, Lenloyre," returned Alessandro, for it was the wily Jesuit whom'we again introduce to our reader. "' We do not know what listener we may have, and the richb lan- guage of the Latins is unknown. to the vile ears of. the unbeliever." "Well, then, to business," exclaimed the captain, who was a young American, of appearance so peculiar that we must describe him to the reader. In person he was of medium height; his figure straight and well formed. He possessed an extremely swarthy comp lex- ion-so very dark, in fact, that there was no mistaking his southern origin. His hair w jeet thlack, and. hung in stPtaight. masses upon his shoulders, and his whis-' kers equally dark, fell in waves Upon his broad expansive chest. This was Guss Lemoyre. "At a previous interview," commenced the Jesuit,. "I spoke with you on the subject of securing a passage on board your vessel, I am, now to conclude tlhe terms of our agreement." "I am glad of it," replied Gus, " for I am heartily sick of remlailling here in tiresome inactivity. 1- aml a child of the Sea, Padre; as wild and changeable as thie element I love to sail upon. Since , my childhoodl, I have been accustomed to the turmoil of active life; and anythingr like ' laing up in ordinary,' is the reverse of agreeable to my feeling. So conclude the affair at once, and let us determion upon the time for leaving this place, for scenes more congenial to my tastes, and ,your wishes." "We will then do so," said the Priest. "I wish you to consider this vessel as mine '- fo'. te ti tme being. You must await my orders; and be ready to put to sea at'any hour, no matter how unr1cason- able it may appear to you."' And what am .I to receive for this?" "'I do not know what value you may place upon your timne and services, blut I have here five thousand dollars, which I offer you, with that sum twice told, when' on(e 1 am in safety in South America!" At this moment the captain grasped tlhe hand of the Iholy Alessandro, and ex- claimed,-"Say no more! I aim yours, vessel and all, this giraqte is at your ser- vice!" It did not occupy above ten minutes to bring the business of ths pious duo to a termination.. The padre stipulated for a puisage for himself and lady to the mouth 'of the river Amazon, and before leaving deposited the above mentioned sum of five thousand dollars in the hands of his worthy colleague. Having. thus concluded thd atfair so far as Lemoyre was concerned, Alessandro muttered a parting adieu, and descetided into the boat whichl was immediately pushed off from aloigside the vessel. Half the distance whllich separated theml from the city had already been passed over, when thie priest observed for the first time, that there was but one man beside him in the boat. "Iow is this." he exclaimed, suspect- ing treachery; "there were two of you when we started--s. pealk man, where is your companion?" "My c-c-companuion," muttered the Man. "Yes, fellow: beware how you equi- vocate! Whither , as he gone, ' "Why the fact is, sir," replied the boat- man, "'you llustered me sq at first I could scarcely answer vou. As fol my chum, Dic:k Martmin, he had some friends on xboard thie brig, and just stepped on board to say good-by to g o thelm, a .1 he understoodl they were to sail to-morrow. If you wish sir, I will return for him; but I think I can bring the boat up very well alone, as the tide is coming in. Shall we return, sir!"!' "No, no!" replied the padre, convinced that no treachery was intended; and re page: 156-157[View Page 156-157] lapsing once more into silence, he gave himself up to delightful dreams of the fiture; dreams of gratified ambition and love. s. When Alessandro had quitted' the deck of the brig, Captain Lemoyre turned in the direction of his cabin. But at the \moment that he would have descended, a J hand of iron was laid upon his shoulder, and a low voice, uttered in authoritative tones, exclaimed, "Stay, Captain Lemoyre!" Gus turned on the instant to face the person who addressed him- and instantly recognised the quondlam boatman, an in- dividual of herculean firalne and sinister appearance, who wore beneath hs cloak the insigna of a secret branch of the Or- t der of Jesus. Before this badge the stout-hearted seaman quailed, for he; too, was a Catholic, and he knew. and ac- knowledged the terrible force wielded by a Tribunal as secret as powerful! "You must consider the argreement' which you have just made with the father Alexander, as already broken. You must imnmediately'get up the anchor, and be fitr at sea before to-morrow's sun dawns upon the city,-the tide will serve in half- an-hour, the wind is favorable, you have cleared at the Custom House, so that there is no difficulty!" "But my promise to Alessandro,--" "Peace! the Order speaks through me! Beware how you disobey its dictates!" CHAPTER XLVII. WHEN Oby reached the tavein,'after his sudden flight, he found Hicksey and his other firiends alinost feverish with' anxiety for his prolonged absence. They were preparing to devise some means to proceed to his rescue. When they heard his story, and he assured them that he had seen poor Katrine, their determina- tion to rescue her was universal. But how? They must have the shadow of the law to shield them, suggested one of the coolest. But who had a claim'upon the girl to demand her? Oby was nei- ther a guardian nor a relative; what le- gal claim could he advance . Her fathei' had cast her off, and if appealed to would only add another bolt to her prison door. "What shall we do?" asked Hicksey. "Get her out, or tear the cursed old crib down!" said Oby. "Who'll go with me to do it ' " "All of us," was the universal re- sponse. Calmly, with that quiet which always forbodes work, as a calm precedes a storm, the party left the tavern. The space which lay between them and the Convent was soon passed over. Their force was quite a formidable one-num- bering over twenty stalwart American men. Upon arriving at the gate they were met by the " figure and face," m ore hideous than ever, Peeping through the wicket in the gate, and recognizing Oby, he cried: "What dy'e want here ye murtherin' * viliain? Be off wid ye or we'll set the dogs on ye. Isn't Dinnis MeCarty that ye're half killed and meself that has a black eye by' way of reninmblrance. 'Go along wid ye and wait; for the warrant that the howly father will have served on ye for murthur and burglary!" "Go ,and tell your nmaster that we Wish to see him riglt- away.!" "Do you think it's the likes of -you he'd be after condesindin' to cotme down aMid spalke to? Be off wid yez now!" "If you don't do what I tell you we'll stove the gate in and carry our. own Imes- sage!" "Its nice work you'd have stavin' this gate in, but I'll let the masthher know, and if he don't have every devil's son of yez shot down, then I am a gossoon!" "If he tries that gamne there is another party that can play at it. We are good protestants and always carry one hymn and that is set to short metre. Hark from the tombs a doleful sound, Thing cars attend the cry. Come view the ground you Jesuit Greek, Where you shall shortly lie! 'How do you like that, you ugly imp of hell?" The face and figure had not waited to listen to Oly's poetry, but was seen roll- ing his ungainly fortil up the path toward the front entrance of the building. The door was opened however before he got there, and the priest made his appear- ,ance. Apparently not heeding the mi page: 158-159[View Page 158-159] shapen porter, he passed radidly down the path to the gate. "What do you wanlt here?1" he asked. "We siwant one Katrine O'Sullivan, who is detallied heir against her will and who was stolen from her friends in the city!" "All"-criedl the priest, recognising Oby-" you are the spy who fled hence an hour ao,. You hlad better leave this place, for the nlman whom you struck down with your spade is injured, we fear mortally. If you do not leave at once, I shall make complaint and have you. arrested!" "If you'll give up Katrine O'Sulli- van," replied Oby, " we'll leave peacea- bly. But arrest or no arrest, I won't go before you give her up '" "I know not of such a girl--we have none here of that namel" "You needn't -tell me that-I saw her myself, and here is her own han'dker- chief with liher name on it, which she i threw to me from the window. What X have you got to say to that, old brevia- ry ;? "Let me see the handkerchief," re- j plied the wily priest. C "Well, put on your specks and look I at it, but you can't lay your paws on it. I Come now, open the gate and let us have the girl or we'll show you how we can get at her. We'll stave your old a gate in, and' fetch her out of the house!" "That would be a dangerous opera- i tion, young man ," said the priest. E Then, drawing a whistle from his s pocket he blew a shrill call. In a mo- I ment nine men, with the "figure and i face" at their head, were seen. Each man carried a musket with the bayonet fixed, and as regularly as if drilled they i filed down.-the pathway until at a signal from the priest they halted near the gate. "You, see, my friends," said the priest mildly, but in a sarcastic tone, 'L that we go prepared for all illegal attacks. Y on had better depart before more harm comes of your visit!" "Look here, old stick-in-the-mud, who do you think you'll scare with your pop guns-we've seen such things before in the hands. of men that know how'to use them, not in the paws of a set of lubber- ly Greeks!" cried Hicksey. Another speaker now stepped forward, a fine military looking man of thirty-two or three years of age. "Father Bourke, I believe vou know me!" he said. "Yes," replied the priest, "you are the Captain of a military company in the the village and have served in Mexico" ' "You are correct, sir-and' I have only one remark to make. If you'do not disband your awkward squad yonder, and open your gate to a committee ap- pointed by me to'go and bring that girl away, I shall send back to my armory for arms, muster,my whole company, get out our field piece and force an entrance Now sir, you have heard me, and by the Eternal I will keep my word!" "But, sir, you would not--" "Yes I would, and I will. Choose, and choose quickly!'} "There is no necessity of bloodshed; we'are ever friendly to peace, but the sacred rights of our Church and our sanctuaries must not be invaded. Yet, if you with two others wish to visit the interior of the seminary, I will permit it, on condition that no one else enters." "And will you give up the girl?" asked Oby. "If you find any one illegally detained and can show a right to remove her, she shall be given up." . "That's all I ask--I know she is there." "Then I will appoint the committee for examination," said the Captain; " it shall be the two gentlemen from New- York and myself. But, sir, just order your .awkward squad yonder to face about and vamose the walk. And more- over, though I do not ask -a guarantee for our safety, I warn you that if harm -befals us, down goes your house, as Sure as I am a man and a soldier!" "Sir, no threats are needed-you are safe, even though it is an indignity to suffer our 'propelrty to be thus invaded!" At a sign from the priest, hs minions turned back and disappeaxred behind the building. Then with his o'win hands bhe unbarred the gates, and admitted the Committee of Investigation. page: 160-161[View Page 160-161] CHAPTER XLVII. IT was morning-the sun had not yet risen, but it had given its first rosy kiss to the departing shade of night. East- ward the clouds tinged with red heralded thile rising god of day. A fresh breeze from the North West swept down the Hudson, ruffling its waters and filling the sails of many a heavy laden sloop, many a tiny market boat, and giving a chance. for all outward-bound crafts to " up an- chor" and be off. The cheery " heave- oh," of the mariners here and there work- ing at capstan or windlass to rouse thle anchors firoml their muddy bed; the sullen roar of the million- wheels which make m norning sleepless in the city, and thle d aash of the waves against the ships and piers and wharves, was all that could be heard in the vicinity of Pier No. 1, whlen a carriage drove up. There were several trunks on the after part of the carrint e-- and somle lpackages ini front .by the driver. This indicated thlat the occupant or oc- cupants were prepared for a journey. Blut'no vessel there seemed ready for de- parture. It was time-or nearly time for one of the Soundu boats from 'East- ward to come in, but she had not arrived. The driver hastily deseended from the. box and opened the carriage door. Two persons, by their dress male and female, but so closely muffled and veiled lip that no one could distinguish their features, sprang from it. The man was tall and his form was enveloped in a long cloak. Leaving the lady alone for a moment ,he hurried down to the end of the pier. Straining his eyes anxiously out' o- ward the spot where the brig of Cap- tain Lemoyre had been anchored the night before, he endeavored in vain to find l'her. Long before the dawn she had spread her snowy wings, and now like a wliiterpinioned gull she was kissing the blue waves outside of Sandy Hook. "Ten thousand eurses on the traitort Has he deceived me?" lie nlmuttered. "The brig has gone-perhaps lle feared to take me. Other means must I find to depart, and those speedily, for I soon will be missed. But, what first to do? 1 r111st take my sweet Genita to a hlotel. I amn sufficiently disguiseld--can pass un- noticed, and she is not known. SBut to be safe we must pass as man and wife. Will she consent ere the sacred' rites whllich can mlake us such ate perforimed? Stie must. Necessity will comllel it!" After this brief soliloquy, Father Al- lessandro, for it was him, returncd' to the carriage. A few whispered words to Genita seemedio satisfy her; she got into the carriage, the driver received his orders to go to a celebrated Broadway hotel, and drove off. But a spy was at their heels. CHAPTER XLIX. You know were stands the Cathedral to of St. Patrick. Vast and sinister in its o external appearance, surrounded, too, by , b filthy habitations and pestiferous streets; o anld guarded, as it were, by tle. most de- graded of the papal transports of Ire- y land,it risestdark and massive, a fitting s mouument of :Romish influence in our t city. 1 A few evenings anterior to the, events 1 related in the last chapter, thlere stood S at the basement entrance to the Cathe- dral, in'Mott street, two persons, who 1 seemed to await the arrival of tan expect- 1 ed, isitor. They were, both distinguished' by -that peculiarity of phlysiognomy which espccialty characterizes the Celtic. race; and their accent fully carried the convic- tion of their Irish antecedents. "Tiumn said one of thiese individuals addressing his companion; "Tim, d'ye think they intind comin' at all to-night? Saue, it's so cowld, and rainy, they'll hard- ly 'viture out before to-nmorrow." "Daddy, you're a fool," was the elc- gant rejoinder; " don't you know its spe- cial business afore the holy fathers, and they'll have to attind in consequence.", "AlAn' is his Riverence,' the masther John, comin'?" "To be sure he is." "An' Father Starrs, an' the rest of 'er?" "Yes;. but don't talk so loud, Darby.'? "Sure, an' it'll be a fiue assimbly al- 10 together, and if the damnled heretics could only see What'll lbe goin' on, they'd learn better than to try to break up the power of our howly clhurch." "Hush, man, you don't know what you're talking about, suppose somebody should, be listening to you. There's one thing about' his Riverence that you haven't found out, and "that is that he likes those who serve him to hear and see, but say nothing." The conversation wtas now interrupted by the sound of, carriage wheels, which he , no sooner observed, than he exclaimed, witlh avidity,-- ' "Here they are, sure enouhh!" Dar- by, bring out the rest of the boys!" His companion disappeared for a mo- ment into the church, and then returned, accompanied by about twenty reeks, Nyld' stationed themselves in two compact rows, across the sidewalk. By the time this movement had taken place, the car- riage had stopped opposite the door. Almost instantly, two men alighted, anld addressed a few words to a person who had advanced from. the church to meet them. The response to their ques- *tion whatever it may Ihave been, was in the affirmativc; and the leader of the party then applroached the carriage, and f assisted two females to'alighlt. Then, at a signal from orin of the new- comers, the entire party re-entered the I- church, and the carriage was immediate- page: 162-163[View Page 162-163] ly .driven off. This scene took less time in its transaction, than it has occupied in describing it. I will now chalnge the scene. 1l the vlaults of the Cathedral, a part knon on ly to the inlitiated emissaries of the Ornlcr, a meeting of the heads of the Catholic Clhullrch wals taking place. It war: not alone that the weird light of tor- ches which left illdistillnct the surrountd- ing oljccts,' malde sinister that subtC'r- ranllcan clhamnler; but thlere was some, thing so inlleffablly replulsive illn the cold, sensutl exlrecssion of the f I'rovinciars countenI;ni'c, thait the lheart instinctively shrank frolL 'l tribunllal at which l1e pre- sided. At'al signal froml the atlster, a door opened nioiselessly, aldl admitted the two felmales, alr eady sloke of.: " liemove their e;cils." TLhe collmmanl;l- s obeyed; antd at simulltallneous cry of joyful surpIrise es, capcd thhe captives, as'they recognisdl 1 each oitler. "Katrine^! "Ursula!" And the sisters, forgetting,in the hap- piness of seeing each other, all the misery of their present sitiuation, rushed into t each other's arms - "Separate them"' exclaimed a subor- dinate priest. "Oh, no, ono." criled Katrine, in a 1 voice of passionate ,'a'ntestat'es; "do not r take from mt e my ] oor long-lost sister. t Ursula, dear Ursula! See how pale, s how wretched she appears. Is there no mercy in your hearts? Does not this t sighht touch any feeling of compassion in your nature? O, God i are ye so lot tl to every feeling of manhood and human- t] ity that you can continue to persecute a one who has already endured so much?" "Peace, daughter! exclaimed t John, in an authoritative tone; "the holy church does not persecute, it chastises. Yon have sinned against its laws, and yon f must suffer for your lrleslmlytion." "And in what have I sinned?;' ex- claimed Katrine, assuming an air of' de- termination, though her heart trembled with fear; "did you not firstco ilmetnce a course of systematic persecution nupon my unhappy sister and myself? 'And for what? With a view for our spiritu- al welfare, you would answer, but the falsehood is too evident, the deceit too pallpalec. No, it was in order to pos- sess yourself more easily of my delulded alrclll's ri('llces,thlllt yout tulls sollgilt to accomplish our death-for coulinlement your nuneries is but 'a living devath! I tell you, priestly villain, though you may now triumph in our misery, there will yet come a day of fearful retribu- tion!" As lneXlectced as bold, this address struck her listeners with astonishment. It was not aIlonIc' er words of recriminia- tion; but there was something so( filll of dignity il le(r 11111111nner, that it convincdttl the Jesuit throng how impossible it would be to coerce her to their wishes. "Daughter," returned t John, in a. voice of forced calmness; "we have listened to your words; and 'while we pity the mental blindness that dictated them, we cannot pass by the ethTeous statemelts which in your ignorance you have made. Know that the socitites of the Holy Catholic Church do not seek. aggrandizement as a hieans or eldl of the fulfillmient of their designs. Since the beginning, our church has been poor and persecuted. The worst motives have been attributed to our actions, lhowever pure and worthy they mayc have bect.. You have. listetned to the words. of evil advisers, and been tainted by themn. Be it our duty to remove the evil influence which .now controls you ." Katrine, clasping the li:hand of her sis- tr, replied-- "It is in vain you seek to disguise your true motives in the specious hypocrisy of your class. We know what we have to expect, and do not supplicate your mercy. Priest, I will yet live to see a day of vengeance!" "Remove them!" said the Provincial; and in a moment the attendants seized the sisters, and hurried them through a se- cret passage, from the church." page: 164-165[View Page 164-165] CHAPTER L.. TIE events of my narrative now ap- proach that climax whichl precedes .the end. Together, you and I, friend reader, have travelled over- many a league, and noted- the lpsce of' nmany an hour, whichi otherwise would hlave been attended with the tedlium of monotony. And thisis not the first time that we ihave met. mnay I hope it will not be the laist? For long ago you reviewed with mne the romantic deeds of the, Sea Killngs of the olden time, and the gallant feats performed by the most chivalric of our country's children. Together we wandered through the pa- geant Garden of Literature ; now roving beneath the deep gloom of an o'erarch- ing grove, and anon loitering by a bank wherein roses and violets slept in perfum- ed loneliness. .. And, while creating tlhese ideal realms for you, what think you has been MY lot? The Past to Lethe! The history of my. deeds and sullfferings, I feel--Iknow! will be remembered. The first to uplift a voice of iwarning- to my countrymen- the first to enllter the lists in defence of those principles which 'a Romish ascen- dancy has striven to crush-the first to fall a imartyr to tlhat cause-may I not' look to the Future for at least an occa- sional remembranee? Yes, yes! it may ,be tlhat this hand will tlhen be still for- ever, that tliis heart will cease to thi'ob with wishes for my country; but in thre revulsion which a papal aggression must shortly superinduce, my name will tform one of the many remembered as foes of Romanismn, and lovers of our native land! To return to mny story; T wfill now briefly review the position., occupied by the various actors in this complicated drama of real life. Oby had been disappointed in his search for Katrine, the wiley Jesuits havinl removedl her, throu,h an 'under- ground passagE', totlth e hos( of a. faitih- fil Catholic. ThleCyounIg firelign tlhnl returned ditscmnolahte to the' city, feari-ng that the Romil n is:;creant; Ili;(d resortted to Ca de(11adly Crime in order to, colcItal tle?. There' was t filre inl his ,:latice, 'A1ld corn- pression ill lhis lip, a s lie tlomuglit of this , thltt to,ld, plainlly how muc1ll ,lc:ey he woullll show the priestl vill;iills did he once Lave them in IllS powe,.r. Aliss Carroll reacl d Washinoton in eomtnlly witlh her Catholic :/ow'rn'ntr, and Was ly her introdllueed to the Jeshit Sem- inary. It would be vain to attcllnpt. a description of tle, grie'f of the deluded girl's father, onl becomin . :aware (,f her' deserotot. lI ow deeply lie l'(regrettted the hasty )words which lihe had Hed; landl 1now forgetting. the c. X,\' i K; i\,anger, thoughilt olly. of hlter' lnifolr1 killndfless of heoal:t, anld- the pure melekes s Iwhich ever characterized h(er conduct. "She will soon bIecome cIonviled of her error," lie would exclaim; " i she will' shortly see through the lwretchedl d tecip- tion of tJe ildolrtla tus faithl sloe Ias etp)ous. ed, and th len sle will return to 1135my armI1s, ati, to the salnctity of her ftorner church. Butlt I 1l1lu:4 seek f, rland r scude heri" As regards Fathher Alessanldro and Genita, they had arrived at the St. Nicho- Ias HoteD and imiiediate1v on'their arri- val had secured a suite of elegant rooms, in the lower wing of the buildii(ng. CI APTER LI. IN an apartment of a house adjoining the nunnery in Prince Street, the sisters, I Katrine and Ursula, were confined. This; house was owned by' a pious Catholic, who occupied the lower part, and let the upper stories for the accommodation of t John et tribes. There was something of extreme deplravity in the countenance of the proprietor of this abode,- who was as Irish in appearance as in nature. "Katrite, my sister,"? said Ursula, on finding themselves alone in a gloomy chamber of thlat Ciathlolic prison; " you cannot comprlhelid the terrible vengeance which those men will take, for the words of insult whh you used towards them." "I clare nlot, lrlsulla," replied liltrine; "they havbl already exha usted every means -wh*jij:h coulln m;\ke ke luttfv. Als I x'cyu my poor S isterl, Il111t have .lexpleriented frightfuil treatmntaLt alt their lhands." Yes; tthey. lave succeeded in ;brinling me to ani untiimely grave, for I feel. tliat many dnys, c:tannot elaipse before delath will clUaim1 1l tfor' its own. Reason has returned only to: make .the end mlore happy. My utltnhappy Katrine, what would I'llt g'ive to see you in satfety before 1 die." "Thnk lnot of mle, dearest." ' "But I cannot cease to think of you, my sister, amit yet, regret for our wretched parents adds to. my misery. How think you our father bears this separation from his children? It is through the effect of his folly that we are thus situated. He deserves to sufier for his superstitious faith in those hinmI;ll devils th at Obly were here! his true American arm would soon- release us from our present wretchedness." "Oby'! interrogated Ursula; who is it you speak of, my sister?" Katrine blushed to find that she had suffered to escape the delicate secret of her heart; but then with characteristic frankness she took her sister's hand, and freely confessed her love for the young fireman, and her loe that that love was reciprocated. And Ursula listened to the timid con- fession, and rejoied to learn' that her sister had otiundte one who would protect her from the enemies she feared ' , but alas! she forgot that she was even now in the power of those very enemies, with- out any hope or lntleans f esa pe. "I commend your choice, my sister, she said "he whom you have singled as the object of your young heart's affection, is I think worthy of you, and will make your future life; as happy as it deserves to be. There is more salty in possessing a good mechanic for a life-partner than some wealthy scion of the upper classes, with less heart than brains, and less man- hood than either. You have chosen well, my sister; may happiness wait upon your union Y "But you have forgotten, dear Ursula? page: 166-167[View Page 166-167] said Katrine sadly; " that at present there is but little prospect of my enjoying that happiness. Alas! will that day ever arrive when we shall be freed from the persecutions of those priestly villains?" And from many an American heart comes an echo to that question . When shall we be freed from the presence of these cloistered miscreants! answer oh! sons of freemen! Answer, descendants of those men who fled from religious per- secutions and established for their child- ren a home of peace and tolerance, which Jesuit influence is now endeavoring to destroy. Yes! answer to this appeal!-- but let it be in a voice not To be misun- derstood by those wno would infringe upon our glorious heritage! Oby was standing in front of the en- gine house, surrounded by a number of his friends, all intent upon hearing the young fireman's account of his proceed- ings in Fordham. It was a matter for speculation with most of the party, what the Jesuits could have done with Katrine; where could they possibly have confined her; or had they terminated their nefari- I proceedings by the death of their victim? E "I'll tell you just what I think about n it, boys," said lHicksey, " it strikes me we N have been wasting time at a distance , when we should have been looking. for the girl nearer home." a "Just my ideas to a spot," said one. F "And mine," rejoined another. d "What do you mean?" said Oby. I s "Just what- I say, old feller," replied e Hicksey. "These Catholics have got Ij places here in town, where they can stow away a girl as well as they could in e Fordham." "Where I t * Where! why, about anywhere in o t this village. Don't you suppose the g Catholics know enough to help each r other. And if a couple of priests Bere e to bring the girls to any of their flock, and a damned nasty flock of black sheep t they are! don't you suppose they'd take n charge of them.? Why of course they f wouldr And how could we find out ! what had become of them." 3 "I only wish I knew where they had - concealed them gals, well, I would. -And - if I wouldn't shortly cave the house about i their Catholic heads, I'm no true Ameri- ) can!" exclaimed Oby. "Well, you wouldn't want help, old - feller,"-observed Hicksey; " there are none 3 of our boys would object to going in for a regular plug muss, so they couid rescue Miss Sullivan." "That's an awful name for an Ameri- f can girl," said one of their companions. "Well, that ain't her fault," returned Oby; "if her old man's a regular old foofoo, she ain't to be blamed for it." "Them's my sentiments," exclaimed ;: Hicksey. . "I tell you what it is, any one says anything against that gal's got to an- swer for it to me. She's a good gal-- : well she isI and I'd like to make hier my wife; and I will, too, if ever I get her away froln the cursed Jesuits." As Oby concluded, the party slowly dispersed, and the young fireman, accom- panied by Hicksey, turned in a homeward direction. It would be needless to ob- . serve in what direction his thoughts were ever turning, or what name was constant- ly upon his lips. In the, midst of his reflections, how- ever, he was suddenly arqoused by a cry which long custom had rendered familiar to his ear. That cry was " Fire " and the numerous bells of the city were .soon heard tolling rapidly the summons to the fire department of the different districts. "Fire, in the ninth district," "The ninth!?' exclaimed Oby;. "the convent is in the ninth!" "So it is," replied Hicksey; "let us start for the machine!" And without further observation they started for the engine-house, , page: 168-169[View Page 168-169] 'CHAPTER LII. IT was evening; and Genita reclined upon a sofa, within her chamber) dream- ing of love and Allessandro. A luxu- rious light trembled from a candelabra suspended from the ceiling, and a de- licious perfume of flowers mingled with the air. ,There was something sensuous in the rich fragrance of the atmosphere, which gave to the young girl's cheek a deeper hue, and quickened the pulsations of her heart. Her beautiful formed lips appeared to burn with excitement, and the dewy exhalations of passion moistened the long lashes of her eyes. A sudden noise disturbed the, fair sleeper, and as her glance encountered tile cause, she started, and a salutation of endearment escaped her lips. For she discovered that it was the object of her love,--the ideal of her dreams,- Allesqandro. In a moment she was clasped to his heart, and the lovers, caressing and caressed, were seated beside each other upon the sofa. There was happiness in each other's presence.. There was ecstacy in the endearments of that love which bound them to each other. "Genita!" "Allessandro! . " "There is happiness in the liquid tones ^ of your dear voice, Genita. Speak to me, dearest, for I would have the mitsic of your lilis translate the mystic langnage of your eyes." "This is indeed joy,"'murmured the fair girl, returning the fervid embraces of her companion with equal ardor; "oh, when I remember the numerous dangers through which we have passed, and con- template te happiness which now awaits us, I feel overpowered with ineffable de- light." "'S Sweet Genita!" "There was a time 'when i feared to- accept the love you offered; but now, did you withhold that love, I feel that I should die." "Ah, Genita, now to, me the world is filled with 'love-all things seem to the enraptured lovers eye-to his mind, to be joyous images of love; now indeed may I gaze upon those beautiful features, that fair form, know that they are but a part of an idol whose sweet oracular voice whispers bright predictions of a happy, a glorious future." "Allessandro." " Dearest, speak\." "Allessandro, do you not hope that a few short weeks more, rendered short by the converse of love, will behold us in some far away sunny clime,- happy, con- tented, and safe from the persecution of all our foes?" ' "I. do-indeed I do, and as he spoke he drew her yielding form closer, still closer tohim, embracing with all that wild' impassioned energy which the pas- sion of love can only'know. "Genita!" , Allesstmdro?r" How low and thrilling came that name from her lips, thrilling with the extract of passion. "Geuita, you do not doubt my love?" "Doubt it, oil, no, no. I would soon- er doubt that I lived, breathed, moved, sooner doubt that it was some 'hideous serpent. entw ining its glistening, slimSy, folds around mle crushingl me, hissing in my flace, charminig me with its loathsome vet ftsctinatingl eves. No, no, Allessan- ddro, never will I doubt yotir love." "Spoken like my own true love. Come, cling closer to. me-let nie ilprint ollne kiss of love, a seal to our eternal con- stancy(, upon m v G clita's soft, rosy cheek; come, antd let the silence around us He thlle only music to its acc6nlplishlnent. Collie, CO11 le, colle." T"iere was a' strange enchantment haunuting the soulld 'of his voice, the .air 'seemlned to be filled Nwith invisible slpirits that lullelt(; by the shldowy influence of fancy, her soul to a sweet repose-she colmplied, not as thourgh she was cog- ni-zant of 'her actions, but as tholgh- a necroilmatic spill -was guiding her on t6o a destiny she klnew not of. Again were they clasped in eamh other's arsl-ls-again did they almost ex- hale withl the impassioned rapture of a passion, whose madldening strength usur'p- ed all tholUglts of reason. Reason lied-love triumphed-and the past vanished from her memory- the present was forgotten, and thie future was forgotten amid the delirium of a joy that knew no bounds., And thus confidence met confidence-- thus the strange,. ties of reliance upon plighted faith wound thrice alluring toils around the fate of Genita. Al,' Genita, the world mnay call you foolish, yet you are but doing what all the world would do, if ruled by the same destiny which now encomplasses you Firmer yet-nearer-closer yet, arc you folded in his embrtace, and still you are not yet lost. The star of hope yet, faintly glimmers, and sheds its wavering light of' prophecy, upon you-failltly, very fatintly, as though it needed but one vapory cloud of..dark despair to hde it forever. Still the dark I glimmers out through the gloonm of that -which is to come--still feebly lredlicts the ouLrse it would have you follow, tollugh unab}le to guide you, as in other tinles, before a weirl tcmpta- ' tiolln ad I power over you. Still the walnlml, silckly rays of that hope-star flickers dimlyt tloulgh the cells of your thollglit, but thte a rcll ellchalnter waives hbis, wand. Still the lialo of at fi lse love, nlot yours, illcl'reises ill its h1ol- low radiallce, daxzlinig into lothngnesms, into ob)livion, that whiich shouil1 halve out- lshone all. (G enita, all love? Allessandro, all love? Ali, let that which is to coelil reveal tlwe answer. It maiy be one. of woe-it ]mnay be Qne of joyt-it may be one of truth iland hppliness, it may be one of darlkness, of terror, and of deatlih. Genita! Allessandro! Two souls- can there be a devil fluriking within the ' shadow of the portals ol' thy love. Can thillre be a memory, ,a lost reinem- brance, that yet hovers up from the mystic realms of that wlhicl have been, page: 170-171[View Page 170-171] hovers about the temple wherein love consecrates' the present by its glorious prophecies of the future. Can it be! We shall 'see-we shall see-as we always have seen, when it is' too late *We shall see, when, possibly, the spectral phantoms of a realized destiny point toward us in mockery, as rise from the graves of our buried hopes. From the grave of hope, pointing with their long skeleton fingers, joering qs-a jeering at our frailty. CHAPTER LIL In Washingtotn the city of magnifi- cent distances--the theatre of political strife-the arena in which men contend for fame nnd fortune, or losing them, endeavor to win an infamous notoriety at the price of honor and honesty. For how many of the leading demagogues who have blazed forth from the dairkness of political obscurity, have been indebted to brithes and perjury for the place they occupied in public I But it is not nhow with political, par- tizans we have to do;. our sciens are of a different order from those which char- acterize the servants of the people. It was evening; and in a chamber of the convent Miss Canroll was seated, con: versing with one of the boarders in that receptacle of Catlrolic bigotry. This young girl was of extreme youth and interesting appearance. Her coun- tenance indicated intelligence,y and a- high order of talent; so much so, inl fact, as to cause the beholder to wonder how she had ever beenc eint o that den of sltie'rstitious intolerance. "And so,' sister," said Miss Carroll, addressing her 'companion in a voice which indicated a predisposition to re- gard her affectionately; "it was not of your own accord that you entered this institution; it was rather a compulsory act in 'hich your guardians compelled you' to accede to their wishes?" "It was even so," replied the young. girl, whom we shall designate Matilda; the {tyrannical conduct of my uncle, whom my father left as my. guaidian, compelled me to leave his house, and seek refuge in the family of'a dear friend of my de- ceased mother. He thein had me seized ,by force, and immured il this institution, which I regard witl loathing, with in- efable detestationl!" "Sister!" "Nay, do not interrupt me. You cannot imagine wlhat I, have suffered Orphan alike in relative and in heart, since my childlood I have been made to suffer, by the evil power of enemies. And now I am confined in this dismal pllace, where reason, if not releaseid; , will yet stagnate in insanity I Oh, dear friend- for as such,I must regard you-you can form no estiminate of my sufferings during the past two years. And when I think of it, a wild fever of desperation fills my heart; and I amn led to question the justice of that God who can suffer one of his unofifending oreatures to endure so luclh, and yet allow her persecutors to go unpunished!" "Patience, patience, AMatilda." "But I cannot be patientt In my childhood I reverenced the church which I now despise--tliat Catholic Church, whose myrmidons have been my bitterest enemies. It was not lolg ere I saw through the wretched trickery which had imposed upon me--and which now im- poses upon the uuderstanding of half the world; I saw through the mockery, and page: 172-173[View Page 172-173] hated myself for ever having been the dupe of such atrocious infamy." "And I, my' dear sister, have began to comprehend the snare into which I have fallen. It was not through the nefarious influence of others that I was betrayed-it was my own insensate folly. For I believed in the reality' of the Catholic worship--and wished to with- draw myself from the world, that in re- tirement I might the better worship God. Ah-I let, willingly and with base cold- ness, the home of living parents--and for what-that I. might see the ideal which I had formed for religion, stripped of its veil of sanctity, and exposed, in all its naked deformity,to my shrinking gaze." While speaking, the wretched girl seemed convulsed with emotion, and burning tears of misery coursed each other down her cheeks. "And which of us, think you, ihas most cause for regret,'" she added, bitterly; "I, who gave up everything to become the inmate of this salnctilnlious place of infamny-or you, whllo suffered not through your own instrumentality, but through the malice of your foes." "All, yo have'llot yet learned lhalf the infamy of this place, rmy friend," said Matilda, in accents of terror. "My God! what is there that I llhave not learned?" "I will tell you." The girl's voice trembled with excite. ment as she continued : "In this mansion, which is understood to be merely a school for the education of Catholic females, there is a chamber, which, though redolent of every luxury which coutld constitute an earthly para- dise, is yet a terrible chamber for fetuale purity to enter. I tell you,-sister, there is a temple of wantonness even in the edifice they call sacred, in which the nuns and priests of this place indulge in the most unrestrained debauchery.'" "Oh, heavens!" "I, have cause, too fearful cause, to know the truth of this, for I was a vic- tim to theilr degrading artzs." "Youn--you, my friend?". "Yes--do not spurn me for the con- fession, for the mental misery that a, consciousness of nly own tdegradation has caused iime, you canll never knlow. * But I was helpless. Drugged by an infamous wonlnn1, - was delivered 111) insensible to the fiends who have destroyed me. And tills was the work of the, 'Lord's angint- ed,'-of women, Deinlls of our own sex, who had vowed eternal purity-who had wedded themselves to the Savidur."' "Wretched Matilda!" "Yet no more wretchled than yourself, for this is the faith they intend for you." "For me? Almighty God., can this be possiblei" .1 A bitter smile rested upon the wrong. ed one's lips, as she reilied,- "Do you doulbt my words; or think you those who betrayed I ile will hesitate at the commission of a double crime?" "I must escape this destiny-they. must not add another soul to the record of the lost." "But how?" "That we must devise. I wonder at their leaving us so long alone. Think you they have been listening of our con- versation?" "No-they are thoroughly' deceived by my plausible appearance; they do not suspect me. Of you they have hither- to had no reason to doubt." "This is true--but let us now delib- erate upon the method of our escape. CHAPTER . LIV. An hour afterwards the unfortunate Miss Carroll was seated .alone in her cell Donlder intg overl the means of escape from that plate of sanctilied ilam IIly. The thlouhts of this younlg girl were of the most ('oolnv ll naltu're ; onle o111ellt - hler mIintld r'Cverted to the past, and in de- tail s,'e teviewed the numer'ous -incidents which llad Il;aracterized the tenor of her youtlhfuil existecllC,--1nd1 tilen i magIn ina- tion surveyed tlte vi-tta o{f a probable fu- ture, now elotlh'l in the dlark rapery of 'loliln(,us. foret()ldingll,- and( her soul sank within rher at the ioomny contemplation. In the past, the t fornt s {of those whom she had loved, and who withl tleir love had cherislied t1er, became the principal objects visible to her mnlli-tal gaze' from tltir ftr-off lTomne, it seetmed as though the p)ersolts of 'er fiather, her mother, and all thlose who had contributed to bless the dawning yearls of childhood, had now come to embitter her life with their, re- proaches. In the future, arose terrible shadows, delineated by the phantomn wand of desti- ny. For itseemed as though all the cloister- ed miscreants of the Romnish Church had leagued togetfher to destroy her--had banded together with the defined purpose of reducing her to their own level-of desecrating the illmortal soul by de- grading the mortal body. And they came, like the classic phantoms of the -ancients; and they wove a wild web of enchant- ment around the doomed one, which was . destined to destroy that temple that con- tained the living shrine of a soul. From these sombre dreams, superin- duced by the wretchedness of her actual lit'e, Eliza awoke to ponder on the means of her escape. "My God! my God!" she murmured; "do not desert me in my need t Have mercy and save me, from this terrible fate. I have erred deeply, wildly, but Thou knowest, Oh, Divine Being, thazt it was through excess of my love for Thlee; and of my aspirations after hetavenly mys- teries that caused me thus to err.- Alas ' I knew not then the duplicity of those who made Thy name a cloak for their iniquities ; I was unconscious of the great infamy-of Hypocrisy. I aspired be- yond the real and the actual, to a realm which could have no existence save in the purified atmosphere of a .preternatural world; And in thus aspiring, I became the dupe of Thy enemies I Oh,do not permit me to become the victim of those heartless devotees of sensuousness and ignorance!" Fervent and soulful was heir prayer; and. while praying, she sunk upon her knees, and gazed upward with an expres- sion of divine faith to heaven. And thus she continued to pour forth her soul in the thrilling sublimity of de- votion; now craving for strength and protection from on high; anon, deploring in plaintive accents,- the circumstances of 3 her involuntary transgression. , page: 174-175[View Page 174-175] While she yet prayed, the door of the aell opened behind her, and a form, the incarnation of sensual villany, stepped into the apartment; He was a man of middle age and was attired in the costume of a priest; short and thickset in stature, his appearance was that of one raised from the very dregs of the people, At any time, there was something revolting in his tout ensem- ble ; but now, drunkenite ss ,added to the low depravity which characterized his countenance. le was not appalled firom the evil pur- pose which evidently drew limm thithler, by the spectacle of thfat pure young girl kneeling in conferefice with her Redeem- er! No(! the sight of her youthful charms, as in'tall thel ne'gligence of preoc- cupation sl slufl;led thellm to appear half-driap(d, excited to a greater degree the unllallowed fires which raged within his hellish breast. "Daughter!" Like a startled doeer t le maiden sprang to her feet, and confronted the intruder. There was something flil 'of sublimity in the attitude assumed bly twhe young girl as she thus lastily arose ; thhre w as some- tling unearthly in tlAe brilliancy of her eyes, as s he east. upon him who bad enter- ed, a- glance of withering and scorn- ful inquiry. ( Wltt seek you l(ore?" Her voice trenlbledl( with the excite- ment of terror; and yet witlh a'deter- mination wonderful ill one so young, she concealed her emotion beneath a calln placidity. . . i "Daiughter," returned the priest-for a moment discomfited by her firm demean- or;, " daughter, I have comoe to visit you, to cheer the time whiich must pass heavily f e here, with a friendly interchange of ae thought in conversation." d "And is this all l" "Why, there is something, which--" s "Which you would propose to me-is 't it not so?" e "Yes, but how learned you my inten- y tion , 8e It matters not how or by what means -I became convillncdl of the infamy of those 3 around me,-dt it suffice, tha:t I do know 8 it, and knowing. it, shalla be preparled!P' Thle voice of the young girl was filled with indignation and reproachfulness, as , she thus adldressed the brutal intrulder: unconsciously placing herself in more imminent peril by the acknowledgment that she was cognizant of tilt tremiendous infamy of tlihe inlhlabitants of that 'abode of Catholicisrm and deplrarity. "Gil, you have Cithler SpI)oknl too inuch or too little!" exclaimed tlme 1)riest;, his face assumingl an expressionl of ferocity. "For sucli ,h: you, .we have fas'ting land punishment as sexrceise. For those who attempt to live in disobedience to our Holy Church, there is the scourge, the pincers, and the rack! Ah-ha! my pretty radical! you tremble at the enumeration of these little luxuuriea;-but fear not--I have no wish to become your betrayer!" "My betrayer i" "Are you not aware how terribly im- portant have been the words you uttered! Do you not know that you have, sinned against the Church : and its servants by the calumnious assertions, to. which you have given utterance?" "And you--" "Fear not! I will forget that such words were uttered in mly hearing,-but fair heretic! il return, you must look on me with a kinder expression in your glance." "Sir, what is your meaning?'. "Sweet daughiter!--" "Nav, desist firom this unworthy mum- melry, and a'nswer 11e." "Tle answer is, I love you gentle Eliza." "'0?t?Y ', )-vo love me?" Anl att it is disglusting -.absurdity the heart of thi young girl was sickened ; forl , she suddteily lomlprehlended the purpose of the vilke prie.,t's visit to her cell, alnd 'her heart: .tank witlhin her as she; b1e(tam6e awa'l of thte great d'tinge(r by which she Was 111enacllld. And suddenly, tle. nalrative of hler un- fortunate c'm,1lla,'nilionl of that molrning oc- curred to, hcr; involuntarily sh shudder- ed at' tli} remcenbrante of sen'els too fearfully il,!ficte I 1) tilhe graphllic earnest- ness of M;t il.!la: she was overpowtered by that remelbranco;.e. lHer hlands were clasped : tellars wer in }(her eyes, "h01, Sir," ishe xelailled, (ddressing the priest ill ac(elts (,of the most heart- rending misery ; "if there is any com- passion--:ilmy h11n:1 feeling , in your heart, liavT lllrcy n me. I mayn have erred,-IT mly l1iave spoken as I shouldl not 1ave p'.4pvLk,2 but- you win pardon Hime --will yoi not-you will not betray me to the ve g'lence of those wretchles: oi, speak, spFLak to me. Tell me tl]at you will assist Imre to escape, and I will pray for you,--I will bless you!" The priest listened to this incoherent address, ad1l yet no feeli ing of his heart was touclhet(; hle still contemplated the wretcllhed girl with the lustful eyes of pas- sion. "Yesw .yes ; I will .sist you." "Oh, thanks! thanks! May heaven re- ward your kindrness." v "But will you reward my kindneso 8". "I do not comprehelnd you'!" "Not comprehend me!" "No ; on my life I do not!" "Well, then," and lowering his voice, the priest whispeiedl the relmainder of his burning address into hler ear. A flush of indignation suffused the face and .neck of the maiden, as, drawing herself up to her flill 1ei(;rllt, she cast upon tlhe guilty Jesuit a glance of the most unequivocal loathing. "Vile priest!" sho exclaimed inl tliril- ling accents, " your baseness is Nwort!ly of your creed! Fool thlatI was to implore so great a villain to assist me. YFour love! Monster I you can form no esti- mate of what tlalt love is, wh1ose name you dare to profaine withl your unholy lips. Sooner tlian nccelt sucll love as you could of1, I wsoil(d dlie!" , "And that is thie ocnly alternative which. remains to you!" cried the Jesuit, his voice fill ed with thie bitterness of Iris ihetart. t"You have dared to utter calumnny with reference to 'the mn)st holy aill n'apostolic Clurlch; and to mllention the ni1ames of your superiors withl rea'lr;tiks' dero('r tory 'to them. You hlavel d:re1 I to chlarl telrize the piolls residents of this sacred institu- tion as wretches! to use twords whiell it would be profanity in nme to repeat:-- and for tlhis, you1 will Jmleet the punish- ment which you deserve!! 1 told you, rl, that this edlifice contains for the ,ben- efit of its'unruly nmemibers, the scourge, the pincers,--and the rack! And with the first, those fair,. shoulders will be lashed, until the flesh is hacked in strips from the bone, and insensibility saves you from further suffering; and thhen the pin- cers, reddened into candescent heat, will restore you,-and those delicate feature3 will be disfigured) and that lovely bosom page: 176-177[View Page 176-177] torn by the burning implement! Next comes the rack,-and upon that horrible engine, your virgin form will be fastened, and exposed to the gaze of the assembly, while the executioner breaks every bone and sinew, and ---" "Oh, cease! in mercy spare me 1" and almost overpowered- by the words of the Jesuit, the young girl fell on her knees at his feet. The Jesuit offered to raise her, and so overpowered with terror was she, that she observed not the encroachment -of his arm around her waist. The priest gazed upon her, and his senses reeled, his brain swam round, and for a moment it seemed to him that she was not a being' of this world, so match- less were the charms which ravished his senses., Heavens! he had never beheld so glo- rious a specimen of female loveliness as that whereon his eyes were fastened-- fastened beyond the possibility of with- drawal. "How glossy black was that hair which seemed to enhance her counte- nance. How miserably poor would seem the hues of the carnation or the pink, when in contrast with her flashing cheeks. How dingy would have appeared the lily, when collmpared with the heaving charms of her exquisitely modelled bosom. And taking advantag e of the semi-un- conscious state in which the young girl continueld, the Jesuit drew her form close to his breast, and pressed his lips, redo- lent withi the heat of passion, to hers,- seeming the while to inhale the exquisite fragrance of her breath. All angels gutard thee, malden! For thou art in the power of the most unprin- cipled of Romish villains, and though thus far the advantage has been thine, yet now thou art powerless in his embrace, and thine own warm nature will anon se- "If the efforts of the priest for thy des- truction!" We will see anon how far the tempter has triumphed! We will see, as we have always seen, when the things which were of the present, then form the past' when the plantasm of buried hopes and ruined fame, rise from the mausoleum of hu- manity, with a warning and with a doom l Still almost insensible continues the maiden, and still the tempter holds herin' his embrace. B urning kisses are placed upon her lips and his hand wanders in de-.. licious caresses upon her person. The dreamy imagination of the young girl becomes inflamed by these repeated endearments and. her form now vibrates beneath them with wildly glowing ecs- tacy. Alas,--alas for thee, poor girl! the time passes, as of yore, when thou wert happy in the enjoyment of unsullied beau- ty and youth; but thou art changed,-- changed! Thou hast fallen firom the high and native purity of thy nalture;; fallen into the' abyss of deepest sin-albeit thou wert in soul guiltless of any .wrong. But the tempter triumphed; and the inno- cence of thy young years was made an offering at the shrine of his selfish passion. The priest has conquered, and the maid has fallen :-and the Romish Chlurch has added yet one other crime to the damning catalogue of its guilt '!' Ad that night, the soul of another unfortunate winged its way to judgment before the throne of mercy. The self- condemned and the -self-executed Eliza was found dead in the chamber to which the passion of a priest had consigned hbe Unhappy child! forgetful of the pure instruction of thy early years, thou didst suffer thyself to be led away by the' de- ceitful mummery of a Catholic Church -and yielding to the influence of a fe- male demon, didst give up home, parents, everything-and for what .? To become mf life an outcast ; and in death a suicide!' UnZhappy father! how great will be "I thine agony when thou dost learn that the beauteous darling who first blessed your marriage is no more! That the grave has closed -above the wayward daughter whom you loved; and .who with her love had been so long your blessing. And the Romish Chu re has added' yet other, cime to the damning cata- loge of its guilt! page: 178-179[View Page 178-179] CHAPTER LIIM. THE meeting between Allessandro and Genita had been rudely disturbed; for, as it appeared, the officers of the Inquisition nad entered the apartment, and separated them at the moment when consummation was about to wait upon the confession of their love. Fortunate was it for ye both! oh, be- ings of strange eventful destinies I For- tunate was it, though death and .torture may replace the ecstatic joys ye dreamed of; for the hour when a strange develop- ment must be made approaches! * * * . An hour afterwards, in that same in- quisitorial chamber, where, on a former occasion, the wretched Ursula suffered all that human existence could endure, an- other human being lay stretched upon the accursed rack; and agonizing, oh, most agonizing! were the female shrieks and rending screams which emanated from the lips of the tortured victim, but which reached not beyond the solid ma- sonry of those walls and the massive iron plated door. The white and polished arms were stretched out in a position fearfully pain- ful, beyond the victim's head; and the wrists were fastened to a steel bar by means of thin- cord, which cut through flesh, muscle, and nerve, to the very bone! The ancles were attached in a similar n manner' to a bar at the lower end of the rack,--and thus from the female's hands and feet thick clots of gore fell on the stone pavement. But even the blood flowed not so fast from her lacerated limbs as streamed the big drops of ago- ny from her distorted countenance-that countenance erst so beautiful, and so well beloved by thee, Allessandro. For, oh'! upon that rack lay stretched the fair. and half-naked form of Genita, it8 symmetry convulsing in matchless tor- tures, the bosom palpitating awfully with the pangs of that earthly hell, and the exquisitely modelled limbs enduring all the pains of dislocation, as if the fibres thbat held them in their sockets were drawn out to a tension at which they must inevitably snap in halves! 'But who gazes on that awful spectacle . whose ear drinks in those lroznizing screams, as if they made a delicious me- lody? With folded arms-compressed lips- and remorseless, though ashy pale coun- tenance, Constanza stands near the rack; and if her eyes can, for a moment, quit that feast which they devour so greedily, it is but to glance with demoniac triumph to- wards Allessandro, whlonl an attrocious re- finement of cruelty, . suggested by the vengeful woman herself, has llade a spec- tator of that most apptalling scene! And terrible aire the emotions which rend the heart of Allessandro! But- he is powerless-he cannot stretch forth, a hand to save his adored one from the hel- lish torments which she is enduring;- nor can he, bven whisper a syllable to in- spire her with courage to support them. For he is bound tight!y-tle Faniiliars, too, have hiln in their iron gias p-and he is gagged! Nevertheless, lie can see and he c:Jii hear! , He can behold, too, the rending tol- - tures of the rack, and lie is compelled to listen to the piercing screams whic: the victim sends forth. If lie closes his eves upon the horrible spectacle, imagination makes it even more horrible still; and moreover, in thle true spirit of a Chivairous heart, he seeks by the, te,n\erno of' hbi glnw1 tv, im- - part at least a gleam of sollace to the sold: of her who has undergone so much, and is suffetring now so much more, I through her fatal love of him! The Grand Provincial, who is presentL ministers well and faithfully to that infer- nailvengeanlle; for he urges on the tor- turers to apptly the powers of the raTk to the fulltst extent; and while the creekillr sound of wlheels mningles with the crack- ing noise of dislocating lirmbs, Constanza exclaims : "I was once humane and loving; but jealousy 1iats made me a fiend!" "A fiend,' shrieked the tormented wo- man ; "Ohl yes, yes, thou art .a fiend! -a very fiend! I have wronged thee, but this' vengeance . is horrible'-horrible Mercy-mercy-o-h! for one drop of' water--mercy--mercy!" The rack gave the last shock of which its utmost power was capable-- a scream more dreadful, more agonizing, more piercing than any of its predecessors, rent this time the very walls of the torture 'chamber; and with that outhurst of mortal agony, the spirit of Oe nita fled iforever! hen, the still warm and palpitt fing form of the young girl was hastily re- moved from the rack. At tlhat moment a frightful observation burst from the lips of the vengeful Con stanza. 81e liad -reen the shoulders tf the corse, and there recognized 'a number -f c!rimson marks,'wilich nature alone had evidently created. Yes; she had recog- nized those markls, and discovered in that bleeding, manogled form, her ozwn child! -the child of her guilty love! My daughter! My daughter!" She threw herself wildly upon the blood-stained body of her child, and sob- bed so deeply that appeared as though her heart must break, and wept burning, passionate tears of repentance. Allessandro, too, appeared to be terri- bly excited. He spoke not, but his breast heaved violently with pent-up emotion, and a slide of fearful import darkened his brow., The Familiars now stripped, or rather tore off the clothing of Allessandro. The countenance of the wretched man was now terribly sombre; as if the darkest thoughts were occupying his inmost soul; and his eyes were bent fixedly on the dreadful engine, to the tortures of which it appeared to be his turn to submit. Thle executioners, in order to divest hilm of his garments, lnd also to stretch him in such a way on the rack that, his arms might be fastened over his head to the upper end of that instrument, had re- moved the chains and cords which had hitherto bound him. And now the final moment seemed to be at hand ; and the Familiars already grasped him to hurl him- on, the rack- when, as if suddenly inspired by a super- human strength, Allessandro dashed the men from him-then with lightning speed he seized a massive iron bar that was used to move the windlass of the rack, and in an page: 180-181[View Page 180-181] other instant, before a saving arm could intervene, the deadly instrulnent struck down Constanza, at the feet of the Grand Provincial, who started back with a cry of horror! The next moment, Allessandro was again powerless and secure in the grasp of the Familiars; but he had accomplish- ed his purpose! Constanza lay dead near the body of her child. "To the rack with the murderer!" ex- claimed the Grand Provincial.; " to a lin- gering and awful death do I condemn him he must expire in pieces on the rack!". And in pursuance of this sentence, Al- lessandro was placed upon that awful rack. Then commenced the torture-the agon- izing torture, by means of that infernal instrument,-a tol;ture which dislocated the limnbs, appeared to tear the members asunder, and produced sensations, as if all the nerves of the body were suddenly. being drawn out through the brain. With the stoicism of proud despair, Allessandro bore his tortures until death relieved him from his sufferingcs. And] then the silence of desolation reigned in that chamber of death I CHAPTER LVI. Tar. cry of " fire " resounded through Nv the different streets of the city. h Fire! Fir!- The tramp of the rush. h inog multitude-the rattling noise of the It engines, which were propelled towards v the burning district, as fast as strong b hands and brave hearts could move them i -the enoouraging cheers of the firemen, and the continued tolling of each ponder- t ous alarm 'bell-all contributed to the i formation of a scene of the most exc iting ( nature. And up, from the most densely popu- I ated and filthiest portion of the great j metropolis of New York, rises a column ] of lurid fkme, surrounded by rushing volumes of smoke, which for the time be- ing veil the face of night with a curtain of opaque blackness. Up from amidst tle promiscuous habitations of humble pov- erty and degraded vice-fro'lm the very threshold of Catholicismu and inquisitorial infamny-ftpmn the very lulrkng-place, the den of Romish treachery and crime, up rises the lambent tongue of flame, dan- descent and terrible in its fury. For the house adjoining the convent is on fire! Yes, driven to madness by the thought of her terrible position, Katrine had fired the apartment in which she was confined -determined to perish amid the flames, sooner than suffer herself to become the victim of any farther treachery on the part of the Jesuits. And yet it was not without a lurking hope thlat he might hear that alarm, and endeavor to rescue her, thlat the young girl resorted to this last desperate step; and who can tell what wild, half-maddening echoes her heart gave back to the now far-resound- ing cry of " firel" The glare of the burning building tinged the countenances of an alarmed multitude who had assembled around the convent;, the inmates of w-hich,.now con- scious of their danger, made frantic ef- forts to avoid it. And the windows of. the cathedral opposite blazed in the lurid light, like squares o'f burnished metal. "Make way there for Thirteen!" shouted the voices of several; and in . few moments that engine came rolling along, and took up its position upon the corner of Mott and I'rincecstrects. "Play away Eighteen 1" at that mo- ment exclaimlcd a voice. , "Eighteeni!" repeated Oby to Hick- sey; there's somethng wrong here, old feller; " you see if there aint. Thlere's a lot of Greek police stationed around the house, and 'Eighteens crowd of Greeks t are there to back them up." 1 "Wlat do you suppose it is?" inquired d Hickscy. "I don't know, but I ra'ther reckon e there'll be a fight "ore long, if we remain le around." Dt . Well, if we only bave enough of fel- ,' page: 182-183[View Page 182-183] lers to go in, I wouldn't ask better sport than to get up a general plug muss!" "There's something wrong about that house, I'm satisfied of that!" muttered Oby; "and I've always had my suspici- Ohns of it, from the fact of its being near the Catholic church and Convent here. I only wish the Church had taken fire, that's all! I guess precious few of our crowd would have used a hose on it." "Them's my sentiments," replied Hick- sey; "but what's the matte- there at the window of thile house?" "Where?" inquired Oby, hastily. "Yonder I to the right." "There's a woman there." "Yes, and the men are trying to hold her back!" "Hark I there's'a scream." "Let's go in, and see what thie muss is?' "Forward!" cried Oby, and the two young men dashing aside the throng of spectators and policemen, approached the house. "Back i" said the foreman of Eigh- a teen, opposing himself to the progress of Thirteen's boys, and several of his gang l, followed hm up. . "Out of the way i" exclaimed Hick- ] sey, dealing a powerful blow upon the r temple of the Celtic fireman. The man o0 fell heavily to the ground, and half-a-do- zen of his party soon followed him. The tl voice of Katrine was now heard from tilhe window of the burning manallsion, calling in passionate accents upon the young s fireman to save her. At the same tinle w the Catholic assailants of Oby and his friend closed up arolunlld the house, and endeavored to prevent the young fireman au from approaching it. e "Thirteen's boys to the rescue l" shouted Oby, and in a few minutes there vo ,ort was a rush of Americans tq tl e spot. "Down with the heretics!" cried the hat voice of a policemlan. redt "Go in boys, and these Greeks a les. son for their impertinence!"' , . r There was a close and vilent stun- I gh, which was brlief as it was determined. re, There were cries, and ilmprlecations, and ur groans; and amidst this confilsefl din the dull heavy blows of weapons upon hu- 'k- man skulls sounded horribly distinct. at "They are both screaming now!" ex- claimed an Irishman, to a tall dlark man, who with a sinister expression in his glance, was contemrplalting the disturb- ance. ', They are both scrleaming now, d and in the event of their escaping, that cursed Ursula will caluse the mnsxt trouble." "Anld cln't you dratg ier, from the ;s room 8" "Nv n o "' Tllhen smash her!" ' , "I will do so!" I Crash! a shrill, piercing scream burst upon the air, which was followed by an- - other, as shrill and piercing. f The next instant, Oby had placed a , ladder against thile wall of the bmnling house, and lnow, with a heavy axe in his - hand, he sprang, upw ard towards the , room which he knew contained the ideal of his rhde yet deep affection. "Kaltrine!" inl a moment she was at the window. "I am hlere to save you, dearest." 'Alas! why' did you not comne sooner." she said, "they have murdered my. wretch'ed sister!" "' Murdered her a. "Yes, they feared the exposure of their awfill crimes. My unfortunate sister is dead!" ' The walls are giving way .' cried the voice of Hicksey from beneath, 4"come j down quickly Oby, or you are lost!" "Come dearest!" With all the confidence of true and artless love, did Katrine confide herself to the arms of her lover, who quickly succeeded in reaching the ground. And as he pressed the fatir form of her he loved so truly to his breast, the young fireman swore to treasure her for ever with a fervent and unchanging affection. That night, IKatrine slept in safety be- neath the roof of her preserver. Need I prolong this narrative Need Need I prolong this narrative? Meed I speak of the various characters who have figured in this record of the Actual and the Present? Need I translate the great moral which I have sought to incul- cate, and point to the tremendous system of villany which chracterizes the Romish priesthood of America Need I describe the years of happiness enjoyed by the re- maining characters of this story, before old Father Time removed them from this theatretof life! No! Thus much will I leave to the imagination of my indul- gent friends, and so wish a kind Adios .! to the readers of THE BEAUTIFUL NUN! TIlE NSI). page: 184 (Advertisement) -185 (Advertisement) [View Page 184 (Advertisement) -185 (Advertisement) ] T. B. 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The Lady of t lie Isle. C:,omlfnete in one vol., pa- per cover. Price l1.50; or in one vol, clotl, t2.00. The ml1istlnl MBride. ()n^ volurnt, pipn r co- ver. Price +1.1i); or in one voliule, elothi, ft ,$2,0. e-tribiitlon; A Trle of IPnssloll. One vol'. P:Ator cover. Price .$1..50. or in one vol., clothi, 2.V00. The lintltedl ioein^e4tlad. One, vo)lnmt, pa- per cover. Prioel $1.5i); ,r in one vol., clotlh, $2,00. The Ci o iO e of 'lIfloll. On() vlin, p tper oen- ver. Price $1 5,0; or. iln ohe volume cloth, t)s' $2).00. qh Ds('iordl ed(1 lIa ; I t r-. ()he vol., p;tlr ,)- yer. l'riee -..,; -,r in one volume, riot)l, lor "2.00. IIlekolr- flll,. By Mrs Southworth. lricO .0 cenlis. The Broken Ein1Sgaget lelit. Price 2.5 cents. The Jealous Husband. (),. volume, paler co-, ver. Price' $l..50; otr ill , e v ll l, foil 8'2 00. The Belle of Washington. (11e vol., :jtTo- co- yer. Pl'rice $1.50; r in o)n- volume, cloth, t-r $ 2.0)o). The Initinals. A Lov'e .Sorv. ()np vl,, p:rler cover. Pr'ice $1.01; or ,n one Volu ell,t tl , 2l.0l S. Family Secrets. (One vollime, I;n1I:l ' c,ver. Price .1.50; tolr bound in one volumei , ltt, for i, .00. Self-Sacrifice, One volunlllt, paper cover. Price $1.50, or in -nif volninee, cllth, fr $" o. CoTretship and iatrilnlon y. O 01e r61., paper cover, Price $1.5(); or iln one vole, el t , $2,. ll lth Life In Washington, (omne Vl., poller ' cover. ' ri oS 1 i.. 5 n.; 1 ne volu., clothl, fo t)O. The Voloar lr 1Illft'. One vol. lappor CO)vr. Price $1.50; or botnd in on I voltl, chth. , for $2.00. R a lll I I y Pr I dl . One volume, p;tier covor: Privce .10; o0 T r bo1FllUl i11 one volume, cloith, f,^r .."O'. *PThe Lo ert Tr . ' v. r covers Tr. P'rice S1.50.; or rn onl, vol., I loth), fir $2;0.W. R o se Douglas. O ua v,lllw,m I,:t)er ,over. Price $1 50;or hound iu one volittt, cloth, for S2.00. nIRS. ANN S. STEPIIENS' XVORKS. Sileint Struggles. One volume, paiper coverl lPrice I .-(0 ; or In one volumie, cloth, $2.00. The Wife's Secret. 1o 1volnmo, paper cover. Price $1.50 ; or bound in one volume, cloth for $2.00, The Rejected Wife. One volume, -raper cover. Price $1.50; or bound in one volume, cloth, for 2.00. Fanhtlonl and Fainnliie. One volume, paper co- ver. Price i1.-0; or bound in one vol., cloth, $2.O!. The Heiress. One vollllme, paper cover. Price .1.50;; or bound in one volume, clot h, for .2 00. The Old Homestead. One volume, paper cover., Price-1l.50; or bound in one volilime, cloth, for $2 (). ]n rt r y ) e r e.1 t. ne 0vlllpl, alSer cover. Price $l.5)O; or bound in one'vol., clottl, for $2.0(0. CAROLINE LEE lIENTZ'S WORKlS. PIlanller's Northern Bride. One vol., )ap. r cover. 'Price $1.;0; or in one vol., clot" for $2.(1). Lildin. The Vou"ig Pilot of the Belle Creole. P'rice $1.50 in paper r; or $2.00 in cloth. Robert Grahnlln . The Soquel to. and Continta- tion of Linda. P'rice 81.50 in paplor or t',2.00 in cloth. Thle L,ost Vnkall liter. One vol., paper fover. P'rice $1.)50; or bound, in one volume, clolth, for $2 00. Courtship and Marriage.. One vl., plaler co- ver. Price ,$1.5;0; or in one v,luinn, clo,thi, for .2.00. RRena;n or, The Snow BIIRiid. (OI( vol.. paper cover. }Pr'lc $1..)0 ; or ill ole vol., cloth, for ,2 00. Iard;s WRa-lald. ()ne volumll, paper cover. lrice $l.50; or bound in one vol., cloth, for .12,0.L Lov e aflHer Ml arriage. ()Ote vol., paper cover. lirice .l..-1.5; or blound in one volunem, cloth, fior $2.00. Th le Pllaiiter's Dagn hter . Ontt vl., -paper co- ver. P'rice ..50; o)r b iu d in o,st vul , clothil, $2'G0 Eoltice; or,1 Ma44Rnolia Vale. O'tlo vol., p.- )l'r Cvt', P'rice .1l..-0 ; or in onr vl , cloth,. $2.)0. Thle tnnlisiled 16oln. 1One volumliO p1)aer cover. I'rire 9,hp; i)r bomuld in 0oni Vlltloltie, .lc)tlt, il;' ( i.(hl. nerv, nalad Artli-r. One vol i., pper. c vor. Pl'i'ce 1..0; or lbond in one volume, cloth, for $2 00. Earjnest Liniwood. One volmli/e, p;Iprcover. Price1l..;0; or bound inrl one volume, cloth, fior $2.() Folorsaklnll 1)i lghlter. One v;l}nm., paper s) v'o. Price ,l.].)0; oit ill oele volim,e cloth, $2,.00 Beautifrul 'Widoxw. One volumet , p^aier cover. l rice *1.ii5 ; or in one voltime, clothi, $'2.1o0. IBroll er's Secret. O)tne Volnmtr, Ip-iper .cover. P'reo $1.5o); or itn one vtlume, cloth, $2.:u0 ilThe rMatelre llaker. ()no vlumn, paper cover. l'rice 1.-ti ; or Ilu one volulmle, clotlt, $2.(00. SINCLAIRI'S, LAD. Y SCOTtl'S I ETC. ]lirtlatlions ill Pahitoniablle 1ife. One vol]. papDer cover. Pricte $1.;); o r il one vol., cloth, $2 M) The Pride of Life. One volmit', pap;lr cover. rice' $1.',o: or Iounudin one vollumn, cloth, f r $. 00. Tlhe C1ival Belles. O)ti volumll, lpaper cover Price $1.5)0 ; or in one volntle, (cloth. fi'r 2 0{. "I'l Ilevolfd Bride. Ond %volitite. Love and Dttly. (Ole vorltoe. T'lhe Lost Love. One volume The Bohemianl's of London. One volume. Plice of abovo'$.,50 ih paper; or $2 in cloth. T. B, PETERSON AND BROTHERS COMPLETE AND ILLUSTRATED EDITIONS OF THE WRITINGS OP CHA RLES DICKENS, (Boz.) CHARILES DICKENS' WORIKS. ILL'STIATIEI) OCTAVO EDITION. J:t,.h ,lhok -bing complete in oune vilumne. f)ttr 1Mutual I lFriend, ..................... Cl(tth, i .0 Pi'hxvichik Paper-s, ............ ....... (:l.,th, 2.j3 N'icholoa1s N ickleby, ....................... (Cloth, '2 .0 { reant 1,xpmetation i s, ................... Cloth., 2 ',) "Ia H ptlighlt r's Sti ory -...... ............ Cloth,'2 ' ( i v Ttr '!' v s is , .......... ....... C. . Clotth, 2 ;5 I kle:,k lo t, s -,. ............. . .................('l th, 2,50 l ni the D o lrrit, .... ........................... ... Cl th, 2 )0 l1omllly ;nd(i4 ; ,' So)nt. ' ....................T,. (,lth, 2,) ,k'lcite., I)3' i, I t I .oz," ...................... ('l,t, ' 2 ;0) avid Coplr, ield ... ..................... ......... Cl,t, 2.')0 Barnalby Rlud-e, . ...................... Cl'oth, '2 .51 Miarlin Cliu/zzt evit, .......... ........Cloth, 2.' ( ' O ld C ntrioh i y ShoD, ...... .... .............Clo, C ..1) C hrist ils liorie......., ....................... I , 2,0 DIickens' New vStories . t...., .............'ltli, 2. A Ta1le of Tivo Clties., .....................(Clo,;t, 2 .5) A mleri(aln i Notes an i Plic-Nic Pap)ers.. 250 PrioV of a ,et, in .1! 'l1 ck cloth, in IS vdu]mes ....... $4I 00 t. lt" I La\V lil'rar ' tv'l, . ... ); 00 '" " 1 1:tIIlf a'; If, ,lprin jklod t',let h ....... ..... 6: ) 00 ,t " l!,tlt catlf, m nrllid ed;v-,. ......... 6S )00 a ,tlf calf, atiflcllq e .................. 78.(00 " " llt!Hf c;ltl; lull gilt bactks, etc..... 7S.00 I'EOl, l.'S DUOI)ECIMO EDITI ON. ELt,:h b,ook hbriny (omtplt[e /7t,one votumte. Our Illtiual Frie'nd .......]..............Cloth, o2.50 Vic' k ic i k Papers, .....:............... ....Cloth, 2. 50 Nclholjas Ni ckle)hy, ........... ....l.........lth,2 i5) i;1-etat 1I'. xl ect atio ls, .............. .......(.l th, ( '2 . )0 Lamlpllg i 1er; S tory, ...................... Cloth, 2.50 I)vidl Co5DDelield .............. .. ... ..Clothi, .,50 )11iv r Tl w i ist .......................... .......... doth, 2.0 Btl all ' IIo the, ............. ....... ............ Clot h, 2.50 A Tale of "vo Cities,... .... ...........Cloth, .s;o I) clitr-ns' Nr'v Storles ...............:..':... Clolth, 2.50 L ittle' I orrit, ............. ... ...... ........ ....Clothl 2.50 )Don1bey and Son, .......................... Clotl. 2.50 Cllristl an s Stoiries .......................... Cl othll, Sketchles by i Boz,". ........., ....... Clo.. h, 2.50 Uarnaby Rtudge, ... ..... cl 2 ..............'. , Martin Chuzzlewit t .... ............. .... ,loth, 2 50 Old Curiolty Shlop ......... ................Clot, 2.50 Dickens' Short Storle t ,................Cloth, 2 50 }qessage froni the Sea ...... ..........Cloth, 2.50 rice. of a set, in Ilaick cloth, in ]S vo;lulnes .... $44 ()0 " " ' I Fu"Ljaw I,ibalFtv L^.tvei,. , .5. 5,)( i " " Iltif c;ta!f, .s!.ull.); n 1 d *,dti- : ........ (;0 ,) O .1 " " Ialfcalf, ;t},ill-d edcie..... .... . (15 ) O *' I l;talf calf, altillque ................... 7.. 00 I " " lalif calf, full ^ilt baok., etc..... 72 00 CHARLES DICKIENS' XNVORKIS. "USTRIATIE) I)Dl'ODEC)l('MO EDITION. I/'(t1-/h 6,o,k bheig cmp, tl in ttw:o volatemes. Our Mu1tl uail Fr'iend .................. Cloth, $4.00 ]Pickwick Pact lfr 's ..........................lth, 4.00 Talj Ice of T"o C(it ies ..... ................ Cloth, 4. X) Nicholas ,N' ickleDy, : ...................,Clth, 4.00 Dav);ti Copplertiehlcl , ....................... .Cloth, 4.00 ()liver T" T\ ist, ... .................... ....... Ckth, 4.00 "hrist nmas Stlorlevs ........................ loth, 4.00 Bl:eak Ilouse, ........... ........... ............ Cloth, 4.00 Ske clhes 1- , , ....................... . Cloth, 4.0C Iarlaly dltl , , ....................... ....... Cloth, 4.00 nMarlt Ch * 'z*.lewit,. .......................ottih, 4.00 Old Curiosity Shop), ....................., Cloth, 4.00 Little DIOrr1i1 ................................ Cloth, 4.00 D ol ey, and Solk ... ......... .................Cloth, 4.00 7 hz f.,l/h'inig l'- eft'lh rw)7plete in o07e volunme. Great Expeciationt I ....................... Cloth, 2.50 Lampthgh tcr's Story,. ..................C..loth, 2.50 Dickens' N'ew\ Stories, ......... ............. Clth, 2.50 Miessage front lie Sea,t ................... Cloth, 2.50 Price of a set, in 32 vol,. botund in cloth, gilt backs $64.00 " Full Liw lih rv style ........... 80.00 " !" li If c;i f. IntiI ... ... ....... ......12 .00 4 " I1;lal' (c lf, full glt b: ck ............ 125. 00 CHEAP 'EDI)TION. ]PAI';R CO)VER. 'r;,, S,. Iir,///-i ;.c', :ft.' (I avohlume. Picli'clk ,Papers'.. Great Exl(pecat aiiol s,. A 'Tarlc of Two Citics. Ncv Yrarm'v^ Slorles. "Banilalny Itudtge. O1Old Cur ioil lty Shlop, Little Dorrit. I)avid Colpperficid. Sk etcl(hes by 6, Itoz.'" )ic kens' New ,Stories. Oliver .Twist. L, amp!)ligitter's ,tr.)', Dolll }e' aI I td .ili. ZIolidzay Stories. il 'Martin Chuazxzlewt Iletakc IouHe. Dilckenrs Shiort Stories. MesIt;oe from the Sen. Clrilstnas Stories. Pic-Nic Paperm. OuIr M1liutual F'rlend. I;iltiiatcd. Price $1.00. S o melhody I ,)m IL t ggt ge. I 'ir e 2. cents. T'oim Tiddller's G;round. Ilicet 25 cents., T'1e :llunlt edl lous, . l'rlcl2"c'llts. -., n,- CAPTAIN MARRYATT'S WORKS. Tihe xavxal Officer- Price .,0 cenxt.-. Pachal of MrIny Tales, PIice 50 ceuts. MidhSlIpXmnal Easy. Price .( ceullt. Percival lKeen. Prico O cents. Peter Simple. Pri- e .'o cetnts. Sea King. - 1'fi(c- ,: Cculllt. Poor Jack. Price 50 cents. ,, Tnp- I, ,1 ,ientrrD of. a Flather. PrIcaQO at. Snarleyoav.,. Price .50 cent%. The Kl,11g't Ovvit. Price 50 cents. Newton FJosterl. l'rice O c('nts. ',r,(r t ';;!d ' f"rl c ('.' rl . l'rice 50 cent& PuiA Onk hSliki. ), L'ee j0 centlts i. Jacob Faithfull. Price 50 centsa page: 186 (Advertisement) -187 (Advertisement) [View Page 186 (Advertisement) -187 (Advertisement) ] CHASRLES LEVER'S WORKS. Fine Edition, bound separately. Charles O'Malley, cloth.. ........................ $2.00 Harry Ldrrequer, cloth ........................... 2.00 Jack H intonj cloth, ............I........; ......;.... 2.00 Davenport Dulin, cloth, ........................... 2.00 Tomn Burke of Ours, cloth,. .................. 2.00 Arthur O'Leary, cloth . ............................... 2.00 Con Crcgan, cloth ... ........ ...................... .... 2.60 Knight of Gwynnle, cloth, ...................... 2.00 V alentine Vox, cloth.............4 .................. 2.00 Ten Thousand a nYear, cloth,............... 2.00 "HARL ES LEVI R'S N 1OVELS. All neatly l't,e upi in paper covers. Charlesg OLIalley,.....................Price 75 ote. Hariry Lorrequer, ............................75 M " Horace' Tenlpleton ........ .....................75 " * Pom Burke of Ours, ..........................75. Jack Hltnton, the Guardlsman,. 75 " Arthur O'Leary, ....... ........ ............. 75 ' TPhe Knight of Gwynne, .................... .7.? Kate O'Dorioghue,... ........ ..................75 Con, Cregan , the Irish Gil Blas, ......75 " Davenport ilunn, ................................75 " Valentine Vox,. ............. ...... ...........75 " Diary of a Mediecal Student ............. 75 " "B RAFY EDITION'. THlS EDITION is complete in FIVE large octavo volumes, continuing Clharle s ()'Alalley, Ihimrry Lorre- qner, lIorace Templeton, Tomn Burko of Ours, Arthur O'Leary, Jack llit tun the OGtardsinan, Th Knuight of Gwynne, Kate O')Donoghue, etc., ihandsoinely printed, and bound in varioui styles, as follows: Price of a set in Black clth, ............... .............$1000 " - Scarlet clotl, ........................... 11.00 " Law Library sheep ..................... 12 50 '* " IIstlf Calf, Nspnukled edgPf, ..... 16.50 " " 1 H1alf Cdf, marblbd edges, ....... 17.00 ' " IhiRlf Calf, anutilque, ........'....,.. 20.00 WILKIE COLLINS' GRkAT VORnIS. The Dead Secret. One volume, octavo. Price 75 conts; or bmlll iln one vol , cloih, for $1.00 or a fine 182mttl edition, int one vol., paper cover, in largo tylpe. for 150.J, or In one rol., aloth, fct 4f,00, Trhe Crossed Path I or, Basil. Complnete in one volnUllI, piaper c,ver. Price $t.50, or bolud in one volume, cloth, for $2.00. Hide and Seek. One vol., octavo, paper cover. Price 75 cents; or bound in one vol., cloth, for $1,00. After Dark. One vol., octavo, paper. cor. . Prie. 7.5 cents; *ir boullnd iu one vol., cloth, for $1,00. Sightst n-foot or Tl'tvols BIeytlnd lhtilways. One olumllle, octavo, paper cover. Price .50 cents. The Yellow MaIsk. Price 25 cents. Tlhe Stolel Mask. Price 253 cents. ' Siater Rose. Price25 cents. MSS PARDOR'S VltORKI4S. Confessions of a Prett'y Womlal. By Miss Pardoe. Complete in one volume. Price 75 cents. Tlhe Jealous Wife. By Miqs Pardoe. Complete in one large octavo voltume. t'rice Fifty cents. The Wife's trials. By Miss Pardloe. Complete ia one large octavo volttume. Price 75 cents. 'The Rival Beauties. lyv Allsq Pardoe. Co'm- plete in one large octavo volu:le. Price 75 cents. Romance of the Hnrenl. By Miss Pardoe. Complete in one large octavo vol. P'rice Fifty cents. Mis8 Pardoe's Complete Works. Thiscom- Prisesf the whofle *f the altswe Five t^rk.9, ed2 xre bound in lothl, gilt, itU oA tvolume.' Price $4.W0. The Adopted Heir. By Miss Pardoe. One vol. paper. Price $1.50; or in one vol., cloth, for $2.00. The Earl's Secret. Paper $I.50, or cloth *2.00. l/A . t . . COOK BOOKS. Mrs. Goodfellowsv Cookery as it should be. A New Maintal of the inuing Room and Kitchen. Price b2.00. , Petersons' New Cook Book; or Useful Re- ceipts for the tIousewifo and the uninitiated. One vol., bound. Price $2,00. Mss Leshe's New Cookery Book. Being hier laIt Uew book. One volumle, bound. 'Price $2.00. Widdlfeld's New Cook, Book) or, Practical Receipts for the Ilou ewife. Cloth. .Price $2.00. Mrs. Hale;s New Cook Book. By Mrs. Sarsk J. Hale. ()e volume, bound. Price $2.00. Mtss Leslie's New Keceipts for Cooking* Complete in Oue volume, bound. Price $2.o0. DMRS. HALE, S RECEIPTS. Mrs. H1ale's Receipts for the Million. Containinug 454 Receipts. By Mrs. Sarah J. Hale. One vol., bOO page., ttruongly bound. Price $2 00. FRANCATrELLIS 'FRENCH COOK. Francatelll's Celebrated Frenchl Cook Book. The Modern Cook. A Pl'ractical Guide to the Culinary Art, in all its bluanches; com- prising, in addition to English Cookery, the most atpproved and rocherch systems of Freuch, Italian, and (Germs in Cookery'; adapted as well lor the largest estabi,dhmoutst , s f)or the use of private fitmilies. By CHARILES ELLMS FRANCATELLI, pupil to the celebrated CAREM.; and late AItitre-d'l tel and Chief Cook to lher Majesty, the queen of England. With Sixty-Two Illustrations of various d shes. Coimplete in one large octavo volnlme of Six Hundred pages. Pr'lle ',.00. SAMUEL C. WARRINNS BOOKS. Ten Thoulsand a Year. Complete in oue vol. paper cover. I'lice $1.50; or an edition, in one voleinme, cloth, for $2 00), Diary of a Medlcal Student. Bv author of "Ton Thoiu-,and at Year." Complete in one octavo volume, paper cover Price 75 cents. EMERSON BENNETT'S WORKS. The Border Rover. Fine edition. bnind in cloth, for $2 00; or Railioad Eaition for '$1.50. Clara Moreland. Fine edition, bound in cloth, fox $2.00; or RKilroad Edition, in paper, for *1.50. Thv Por-ged WYIIW . Fine edition, boutud in cloth, for $2.0; or. Railroad Edition, in paper, for $1.50. Ellen Norbvury. Fine edition, bound in cloth. for $2.00; or Railroad Edition, in paper, for $1..O. Bride of t fie Wlderness. Fine edition. bound in cloth, fr . $2 00; or IRailroad Edition for $1.50. Kate Clarendon. Fine edition, bouind in cloth, for $2 00; orRail rolad Edition, in paper, for $.1.,0. Viola. Fine edition, cloth, for $2.00; or Railroad Editiont forl $l.0. lietress of Bellefonte and Walde-Warm Lrelk Price .o ceut&. Ploneer's Daughter! and the Unking n Countess. Pricu 50 cents. NV. f1;. MAXWELLS WtORKS. Stories of rWaterloo. One of the best; bookb ia the EunliMh latiguage. One vol. Price 75 cents. Blrian OLyj-ln r or, Luck is Everything. 75 centl Wild Sports in the West. Price 75 cents. DOESTICKS' BOOKS. Doesticks, Letters. Complete in one volnme, paper cover. Price $1.50; or in one vol., cloth, $2.00. Plin-ri-b nstali. Complete in one vol., 'Ppa cover. Price $1.50; or in'one vol., clotn, $2.09 9trw Flephant CluD.. Complete in or. voL paper cover Price $1.50; or in one vol., cloth, $2.00. Witches of New York. Complete in one vol., paper cover. Price $1i.50; -or in one vol., clotli, $2,00. Nothing to Say. Illustrated. Price 75 cents. -Y - ---I MRS. HENRY WOODS BOOIKS. Mildred Arkell. One volume, paper cover. Price $1..'0O; or in cloth, $2.00. Lord Oakburn's Daughters; or, lWarl's Heirs. One volume; paper cover.. Price $1.50; or in cloth. $2.00. ' Osn ald Cray. One volume, paper cover. Price $1.;50,; or in coe volume, cloth, for $2.00. 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Price 60 0nht page: 188 (Advertisement) -189 (Advertisement) [View Page 188 (Advertisement) -189 (Advertisement) ] DIMLITARY NOVELS. By Lever, Duinas, aind oilier Authors. With ll,1111tLte.1 I Mita,'y "vers', it) Colors, making t{ lnl he -iUtOt Ittl'iac;tCive 'itl slalable books ever prli thd. I blslthl ,ed iml* tor ..lte a;t retalil, by tlihe tiilio cly, , r' At wh, lit-.tle, ly th doz/en, Ihuandred, olr gllh ; DX1d, .It veD I,w rl;(te.,. Tt,'ir itmff tlrr.- it# FoIlweas: Cthitrlles 0)lJ3alley .......................,.,.,. 75 l1n 1ck Illi toi, th -* (hln'trdsnmnt u ............. ........ 7.) -Tile iF.:t'igt if c(f y ni c .........:............. 7;5 H]ar ry Irjr ae l!tier ......... ...................... . 75 Tomles 11iirke of ()lars ........ ...... ................... 75 Arthutr IILs e:try .. .. .. ................................... 5 Con Cc'itr n' AlveIrti ,res ................. .75 Iai ; ( t'-; I ^ D:, n'/,Dllik (ct c .... ............................... 75 Ilorrat "tl i ie t il ........ ........... ............. 75 V nel I t lf-a . V )t x ........................................ 75 T l$ iiit 1 ne iiilet ...... .......................... 73 rite. f ( W *%Xl-e srlo, ........................ .. 7. T lIe Sol ^V lle ...................... 75 ToJ iv li;iglw Ad * ivturH ...... ..........., 7-5 Gt iterth t ...............i, ...... ............. .. 75 Theo r'h-'i e. (nxal-rslshlt .......................... 75 Jack Adttnlns' Adlvetiltttues, .....7.......... 75 wc enly enlatr 'Af er ..... .................................. 75 lranSgeloune tho Son f Ato.............. ....... 75 Wallace, Hero -of orlland ................... 75 Forty-fi ke Gt iardsnti .en. .......................... 75 llife of Robert lxlrice ......... .....'............... 75 T he G iisy C He ....^ . ..... .............. ........ 75; Alasstacr of Glenct oe .............................. 75 T tljlt or ( ,iy vI k\Ixv!Uf ............... .............. 7, ; Clilld of Waterloo ......... ......................... 7.5 Advetilt res of len Brace ................... 75 Life of Jack A l-?le ................................... 75 Following the Drumln .... ........................ 50 T he C ornscript ....... .. .. ......................... ...... 5() (tnaker Soldier, by Col. J. Richter Jones. 1.50 REYNOLDS' GRCkAT WORKS. :-Mysterles of the Court of Londoni. Com- plete in ono lurgo volttum, bound in cluth, for )2.00 ; or in p,teor coyer, price One DDllar. RiOr Foster i .r, "Tlifl Second 'Serie of thef Mys- teries of the Court of London." 1 vol., cloth, $2.0O; or in paper cover, Iprice $1.50. ' Caroline of iBrulswtvick! or, the "Thirdf Series of the Myvterieo of the. Court of ollndon." Corplleto in onle large vol.. botund 1 clotlh, for $2.00; or in paper cover, for $1.00. Venetlia Trelowneyl ; being the "Fourth Series, or final con6lusion of tho Mysterioes of the Court of Loudon." Conipleto in one volunle, in cloth, for $2.00; or in paper cover. Price $1.00. Lord Saxotidale; or, The Court of Queen Vic- oria. Cominloeto in one large vol., cloth, for i2.00; or in palr cover, price Oneo Dollar. Counilt Christoval. The "S(equel to Lord Saxon- ' datle." Cotnllote iut one vol., I)ound. in cloth, for $2(.00; or in paper cover, price $1.00. Thi e itecroelainccr, A Romanco of tho Timnes of Thinry thIe Eightl. 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For nany years " l(tersonl'S M azine" haai hall a larger circullltiln than any other mlonthlt in tho United States. Ii t18(i it will ,c gre'tly imprved: th ?'eatding 7hatter tvl ,1b i 'eac.,ef, AND l;:'Ntr .NM' I WILL CONTAIN A 1) IUBI,-IZB ST EL FASHON 'Lv rl:, Ii EL}; N 'l Y C).O)It:D, with tiolll f mr to six 'll'esq: nlCo oial.'. H Peterson}" mllore deirable than everl The trlllm will 'vllnail twelO dlr/ars z /elr(r^ ithl lilberal dvdluctiols t)o cllbi]. (Coiithining ntlarly one ti usa;lud pa-es aniilial v'. firlrteen steel engraviligs, twel-e double-size fashion plates, and eight hun- dred wood(-cuts, it will be, in lbtii, Ibeyond ll question, THE GHE/PEB TT MAGAZINE It THE WOaoLD+ Tle novoelets and tales are ; acknowledgled to bt( theo 'oerv bett. lnre. ntonlP, I ),i'd .fr,nr .-.oniltl. .ls,ies than bui h/otttti/te/,r awl/ i/etzt'ian (f the kid. Mr. . . Stephelt, ltitl thu, ,rltli of S lMargir. t llowtlh;" I o: m loaIilan, Mrs I)e:iis ii, FranTk Lee Benedict, itnd th atthior of iisy l,s Diary ;"T. S. Arthurl. E. L. C('l eler nM3,mlton, Leslie altter. Virglni:a F. ToN 11-sed, icsalio (rey, Clarat Augii sta, ai the autli wttior oThe Seecond Litho :" besides nil the li)t ilIpopltr fimale we iit r.s utf A'leric:t are iregt!ur coltlntrthlors. Jll 1866, iu additiou to the usual array of sh'rter stories, FOUt (CopY-Hlt.:mLD SOVEL'ET: WILL .E GlIVEN, viZ': THE SOLDIER'S ORPHANS, By Mrs. ANN S. STEPHENS. THE STOLEN BOND, By the Author of "THE SECOND LIFE." THE OLD MLL OF AMOSKEAG, By the Author of "SUSY L's DIARY.", Mrs. SHODDY'S SKELETON, By FPRANK LEE BENEDICT, In its I'lustrations also, "Peterson" is ulmriv:thetl. The 1t thllsher challelnges a comptDrison Iletween its SUPERB MEZZOTINTS & OTHER STEEL ENGRAVINGS And those in other MhaitaiieS/, and one at least is given in each numDor. DOUBLE-SIZE COLORED FASHON PLATES l,\ch wnmbter ni\t conttnil ,n \ T ld\,-4?,. F.-qxolrn plxti,. cnbrx-nvt on Rtetv1 nanr1 hndRtome,)-y colt)rer, T)ITO ' plat(s will le twice the size of t4m..e /., t'l i/re i,ti : llitIl will xc el iiythi,-, *f the kitd t ,t'velf. 11n addition, woodi-cuts of the newest bliiile I h tt, ca-; , hIttil-ill'e-at, cla;lh, jar it't 1l;ill tdrCiOes, \: th;lug dres'tet, hi ouso dr(^es, A(., Ac. , will uapll,.r in et:,.! iunc,,'. AlsI, til' garut a!t v .riely of clh-i'shr'.4 dI.*sH. Al.* a diagrUln, -by aidl f lwhich a cloaki, dress, tr ( il,.'s cO-,tmllrl4 cVll b,.f dt ,Utt, withlut tih aid' of itl I lliliMlll;ker', a,) tlLat e th Iclilniuer inl thi waty dl -,e, v,[ ,t a gee ar's subscriptim,. 'lhoe Paris, Loundun, Ptilale phia iand New York fi hiions decribe d, in fuil, ea iii 1l,11,n;. COLORE21D -PA'IT'T] ERN S IN XBERLIN WORtl , rC. ,No other IMaga:zinne ives tho belntifi ll alnd eixpniv I rltterns fior' erlin Work, &c., printed in d)olorsi for which "Pete 'ste, ' is t'.,. ])t;tlmed. 5l:Ltire ( I' lt -,!, L, t ,I i, , ti rl woril:l (C st filty ceidtd 'llh se %wh He e 1k'D upt up. Each nulllber i I alho give pintttlern ill lr, l, t Im.,IIIIUidil, , Ktlillth , and all kinds of FaInc't -Wo rk fl'o ladies. RECEIPTS T 6';F0 R Q K X2CE R Y THF T l7Q) ,F &T C &G3Q. Carefithy ta. ted receiDts wi I ;iplr i tr mllll for thm 'T'aldl', tli, 'T'oi lert , the ick Room, the Nlirsery &c. Also,. lilns i 11 loriicfulttlm , l.-'rl'i-m., g, . c J'ilt^ iillihf. att tli (-lndl of the yeuari will be worth tie price of tlhu Magzine, A I'IEC; OF N,:W AND t A..iI()NAiI. ,!L 1MiC ill e lailt unler. , 1 Copy, for one year, $2.00 13 Copies, " 4.50 4 " , 6.00 5 Copies, 1 year, (""o fc gltt .) $ 8 8 t it {and 1 to getterI 1 \ , lp of Club. J 12 It " i ' (and tlo getter) -2 1 4 " \ up of Clu b. 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PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia. BY THE BEST AUTHORS. lIlustrated Iife, Slpecrhrs, Martyrdom and Funeral of President incolin. Cl th l1.00. or in paper 7.5 cents. Illustritted Life a:,l Cainkiirr s of Lieut.-Geuaral Grant. Cloth S1 (), or i. piaper 75 cents. Life, Stpcc'clir. a' d (eirvircs of President Johnson. Cloth St1.00. or in p(i r 75 CCT tis. Trial of the A -a-'ina ai( d Conspirators for the murter of Presidlnt Li roln l. Cioth SI.5, or in paper 50 cents. Webster an I 11, c's le0Spo hcc in lieply to Col. Foote, 75 Southern Life, or inside vie us of S t ry, - 100 Roanoke; or, Where is tl oplia? By C. It. 'Wiley, 71 Jfanmditt of I'rairie. - 0o Greatest l'laiueot Life, 56 1'on Ilaciquet, - 75 fced Indians of New- foundliaind, - 5 Balathlel, by Croly, - 75 Corinne, or Italy, 75 Neil Musgrave, - 75 Aristocracy, - - 0 Tho Oriphan Sisters, b 0 "Inquisitioi in Spain, 75 Flirtations in America 75 The Coquette, 75 Thackeray's Irish Sketch Book, - - 75 'Whitehall, .- 7. The Jessit's lDauehter, b0 Train's nin tpcciier , I 0 aliser's Heir, palpcr, - do. clloth, . 75 Peteritsis' Complete Coin sitil es ifill tie etClnq ill Mv-tecleir Three Cithes 7 Cfltn'ird & the Actress, h0 Gnec rts. - - - 75 Two Io ierq, - - 60 vauci's Mysteries of Masrriaee, - - 50 i'o, tiite IlItiter, - 5/) "'i hic Am)i Jhc ' Chief, - b0 Nothig, to .Siy, 75 Sollt lT I'ii,lcionai, 50 atlher Clemicent,'pacr, 50 (Iho. ( lith, 75 Vctiins AintntSecn ntiis, .0 (;i'. S',tt's l'ortrait, 1 00 H,'nry Ciay' P'urtrait, 1 00 Vi,iet, - - - 60 IMoitaiue, or Alnnarks, 10 'I'ilnI'iiii s, It? fiPi. - 0 I New Ithe I or lRecue 75 Alliciord, - - b0 liouk, coiitaining fic- the 'X rli. - - I 00 NEW AND GOOD BOOKS. rife of 1iti,l ltIcs "necs, 25 'l fe of on. M'cl I'llan, Z Life of(C-',eritl ittler, 25 Life of u;- ),-Ilesrt cade, 5 The lleforitd. - - 25 t Two I'riima Dinaiis, - 2' The ItlautintVd ltlbe, 25 Tom Tiddllvr's duMal, 2.- lysteriouit Mtarriagi, 25 Jiack!Dowidniit', I tters 25. lMystcrics , I a Cuivcnt .25.I Bell Bilrati,ln. . '2 Iloso arriu i'tol, - 25 The Iron Cio,. - 2,5 Charles ianstord, 25 Sybil Grey, - -.50 Fcnitale i'einI N. York 2' Agnces Grey, - - 25 lregendi oi Mexico, - t0 Eva St. Clilr, - 6 Diary of a I'hiyslclacn - hi) The Eticraint Spiure, 25 Monk, by lewis, - 5ii( Beautifuil French Girl, 25 Mysteries of Bedlaii,5, o.5 Book of c;host Stories, 25 dof Oatlsi's 1c2osit Q1 044 1'7diowshiD. 25 SuThe Ladies' Etiqluctte, 25 ('. vii ctl cc'. Eti{cttqutte, t... Wreck (oht-lu M'ary, 2 l'(ri : EnUgltiih riecuers, 25 So ult-boly's IiueaICe, 25 Ameuricau Joe 1illcr, 60 (racue Dthev. - - 2' The Valley F'art, * 25 Ella Sttatrfitd, - - 50 IEdLor lonitr,.e, - ' - 5O Allbby of lnniitnioyllo 25 Glilduon's Anicient IS';-lt, - - . 25 losci;iline, - b0 i'hllti lin Scarrh of Wife, 25 iathecr 'iiTom ti t'1lep, 25 :Niclecman's DDiIClter, 25 "ullick's Faunily 'hy- bisillca, 25 Rolert Oaklrnds, , - 60 Abedticgo, Money lendcr 60 Falklaid, - - - 25 (hristittas Ccr,14, - 25 ,iottilirrn Chivalry, - !5 idtle Shots, - - 23 'The 'Tiot Apprentices, '2 i,tiecimt- 'ciolteer, '7, "ECTURES AND OTHER BOOKS. Oldd Fellhi'Arlsip t p Iic ld, I. The Duties of ohnuii. i t Life of Rev. .lohln Mallit, IT Euchre and its liraw, li Throie of Iti,citv. By tev, A. A. Urnics. 1 Vew' Card of Statiil 1)u tIci Congress of Mttarch 3l. ihi;5. Dr. terr on IJeeilts, - 13 iDr. li rci's Answer to Awidkhoip!tiughes, 13 SM's )il MtI-Exicis , .13 'lTrv i Shv 'rt,' - 10 , ,irioi Ic y Aits 1of "a u;tr,;e card, - 1I WADSWORTH'S SERMONS, America's Mihssion. - 5I Thanlkfulness a Char- acter, - - - Is! Ilenry lWard BIecher on tN aI #ev. NVlllituI T. Brantley's gicint, Cctuuiucln, - I '% i,%;;, '"V-oll, -is 'it ii ti ) i trelStoion, - IL r iu i I iimi nii tio. - 1 ticniou Sersuon. - . 15 PETERSONS' COUNTERFEIT DETECTOR & BANK N01E LIST. Mn1tthly, per annuin ..........................$ 1.0 benri-Misithly, per annumn .................. 3.00 Singhle Nuasa lers ......................1 Cents. To Agents .O10 a hundred net cash. Subsecriptimes (nisy cotimetice with fnvy numher. Termi eash in advlenre. "here is no better adC'erti htf to medlim to reach the itiiness commninnity throinhiout the romntry ltan Petersrins' Detector. Ite i trcultlaitio Htionl tihe Cin- terprrisg sturekrepersi, imiht i ;i. t -incrs. cieritants and matufactures is very liratr ai' d i 'ictsrlnL. Adver- tisements iniserted in ", 'ete,' si.' I). ito "r" ill bt- secae by a larn'e po tfon of the native ra,l Cner etic reoplei if the United Statta. atit i r tti'ws sire lnwer than any *hMr-journal with the sarice vcirculation andt influence. PETERSONS' ILLUMNATED STORIES, PRICE 25 CENTS EACH. Each Book beths In an ' ILLUM'tA'rED Covne," In I ve colors, full of Iilustrations, anid are the niost sale able series of boolks ever pr in this coultrr,-. Booksellers and till others will-be lilpplied vith iheimt by the hnudred or thouband, at very low rates. Tho Fl'lng Artill'ert, 2.5 T'he Iic el Blide, - -25 Old Put, - .235. 'I'Te Kin's Crusers, - 25 'l')fc F'lying Yanke, - 25 Gnllailt T'om. 25 Thle Dooniid Ship, - 25 Tack Junk, - - 25, lHarry Ilclm,- - - 2 'Hurry 'cimpest. - 25 l]chcl and the tover, 25 'The Yankee Middy, - 25 Galloping GLs, - 25 Sylviu Seabry, - 25 aveeny Todd. - -25 The Golld ,ekerH, ' - 2.- Valdez, the Pfirete, - 25 Nat Blake, - 2- Tom Waters the launtedl ]!ghiwaN mar, -.- 2.;/ Ned iHastings, - 25 Bell lHorton, . .25 lDick PIarker,- - - Jark ictli, - - -2 Mothcr Bro vllrigg ,- 2; (talJopinti Dlick, - -- 25, The llobber's Wiife, - 2 Obi; or, Three-'iiigered Jack, - - - - 25 Deiperadoes New Vorldn, 2', Ilarrv Thorts,. . - 05 lrs. \Vhilpple ands JoAso Strang's Adventures, 25 Life of'Jo1nathiian Wild, 25 lMorgan, the I l'Raiiccr, 2;i lives ofthe Feloins, - 2, Joseph T". Hilre, - - 25 hit Clayvtoin. - - - 25 Alexancder 'Tardv, - 25 The Scven tiroters of 'vomlinig, - ' - - 25 'i nnii lie .' l':nclo's ,ile and Adoveututre, 25 SiL-e r and Pewter, - 25 The River Pirates, - 2' Dark Shadles City Iife, 2I Fecmale ilce iin iew York City, - - . 25 The iats otthe Seine, 25 Mysteries of Bedliii, Ui$ Charles Ransfiid ; or Love oil Bo u rd Cruiser, 25 Lyelen Wilson, - - 25 'ihe Iron Crost, - - 25 Mdithv Woodcfull, - 25 i csterics of a Convent, 25 Tile Man-i'- W ar's-Mau,-2' Mi'lterioit e tarcaigi, 2,5 C., ';idn Plood, the I ic'lcwnvt'uitt, - - 25 Ca, tii ii, lood Hnd the ijBt .'ti ori I lighiuiv .- Mrai"s L tp ; or iie 25 ightlv i ii ii 's Avcnucer or, thile i c-alc (,f hix- tevc'l sti i'.'l Jltu'-l, - 25 Mary lstetumacni, - - 25 taoul De suilillle, ' 25 IltDy the Rover's Ad- ' vc( tu cs, - -t - 21 Si x t c c n - S t ri nI e ed Jo'k's ]-iii,.t ,or Life, 25 ltase W' 'rrl,:tgton, - ' it (;ho I t 1troriea, - - 1 Artlhur pri,-, . - 25 DIav1i the S'iratc, . 25 T'Ilie P'Srate's SC-l, - 25 The Vaiilley Farni, - 2 T'he Ditvorced Wife, - 25 Y'ctr attcr iMarriage, - 2i 'The T'io Brides, - .5 Iady at Iutie, , - 25 Mtary uMoretmi, - 25 "Iove icn!lih l,ifc, - 25 Deltoils I)auihtcr, - 25 Two IMerchauts, . 25 MILITARY NOVELS. With Illuminated Military Covers, it Colors. Charle ic,' lailey- - 75 Jack 11inton, tke l;iir,leciu'ct, - 75 The Knilitt oit Gwylne, 75 "iry lorrccquir, - 75 To'l: INrke ou Oi rs, - 75 Atlhur )O'Leary, - - Ce.. Cron,. - 75 gate 'i'ct oni'i hnc, -t 7h lorace l'rriplelcton, - Da vencourt T)Dtiis, -5 1-'ollwincg the I)rum, - Vuailc tine V'ox - 5 'lwil L ieulteim-nt, - St,ries ,f W'aterlit, 75 The Suldicr's Wilfe, I; i GCcerilla Chief. - 73 Ja-k Ac am's Atlvcnct', 7. Three u;mls-min; 75 e 'l'eity Ycars Ater, - 5 ' ci i lillili; I inr'llu , 75 I t ei i (i' litif -c i Lite oi Jac-k Aiiutl,u - 75 Iite ul Just uutAi, 5- 5 1000 AGENTS AND CANVASSERS WANTED. A good relinble Artnt or Canvasii'r, is xvintt il in every tl,-s ci n tlih- ci,:strv, to etnrage in c-lhit. tlhe popiular n-,d fait t ellcing biockb, pitfl-1i(d (I Tt 'I B. I'tcerson ,\ Irtro , :i),; Chest- nuct s't., ]hlt.'eilhint. PA, A pply Ii p 'rp t, or a ldress your orIde-ra v itc ch en- closedti. ftr wet it bot 10 y0ou m ay?ish tos',trt h zth, and Vouroritcrs m ill be illed.,at ncrct andi the hikIs sfnt'to you p r first -"lv-'rt- ' or tiall as deitccdt, Idlt-r rccccuilt of the moli ey: Au-i t6n a1 r Can- via'irs to pev trAlvpuruta- tion, arsd ther v c'ni select their cwr territ,-rv. ()ite huindred bo,lks ,.sorted, sent ut the hImdrcd price. All iin iearet. of work or money oblcuhl cnpagtc In sclling our thooks at onrce. l-arge iwas:t tcant be made, as we stippllv o;ur Ac'nts at - very tlow rati q. Send for Canuvacers' Ciricular con. taliiug int-tructions. Oe- Copies of any of the above Works will be sent by Mail, free of Postage, to any part of the United S .tates, on recoipt of theretail price,'by T. B. Peterson & Brotzers, Philadelphia.
