Light, more light, or, Danger in the dark ...
page: 0Illustration (TitlePage) [View Page 0Illustration (TitlePage) ]JOSEPHNE ELBRIDGE TAKING THE VIL, "They teach me to forget the Home of my Chidhood and give to Oblivion its fond recollectlonls." LIGHT, MORE LIGHT: OR DANGER IN THE DARK. "Vigilance is the price of liberty." "Upon the altar of God have I sworn eternal hostility to every form of despotism over the human mind."-JEFFERSON. BY ISAAC KELSO. CINCINNATI: IPUBLISHED BY EPENETUS HAMPSON. LONGLEY BROTHERS, PRINTERS, 168 VINE STREET. 1855. page: 0[View Page 0] TO THE HON. HENRY WALKER, OP AURORA, INDIANA, THE PATRON Or EDUCATION, LEARNI AND GNIUS, MND WHO BAS DONE 1,1UCH TO ENCOURAGE THE AUTHOR IN IB FIrMT LITERARY ADVENTURE, THS WORK IS INSCRIBED, AS A SINCERE TESTIMONIAL O RESPEOT Enterel according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, BY EPENETUS HlAS ON In t;he Clerk's Office of the District Court of Ohio. In the lerk's, No wish has the writer of the following pages to disguise the fact, that therein is aimed a decisive blow at intolerant Romanism, which he would fain demolish, being convinced, as he is, that the whole system is but a stupendous fabric of false- hood, imposture, and religious despotism-which, as a black cloud, comes down to us from the dark ages, overshadowing, and turning to decay, all that's fair and beautiful, wherever it finds a resting place on the face of the globe. Fully persuaded that Popery, in its spirit, princi- ples and tendency, is opposed to progress and re- form, subversive of our free institutions, anti-re- publican and anti-christian, -- ever grasping at power, and at war with civil and religious liberty, the author has sought to unveil its hideous defor- mities, dark designs and infernal machinations. And this he has deemed it expedient to attempt in the form of a story, hoping thereby at once to in- struct and amuse-to profit and please,-while he opens the portals of light to the benighted and err- ing, striking from their minds the shackles of su- perstition and discovering to them the snares that lurk in darkness. page: iv-v (Table of Contents) [View Page iv-v (Table of Contents) ] *iv . PREFACE. The immense success of his first work, entitled "Danger in the Dark," 27,000 copies of which have been sold within the last four months, has en- couraged him to write again. For this production is anticipated a still wider and more rapid circula- tion than the former,-since it is more elaborate, and altogether superior in plot, style and spirit. fonenth, CHAPTER I.-"St. Mary's of the Woods,"-A scene in the /Convent-Isadora Greenwood, the repining Nun-Her so liloquy-Is overheard by Bishop Constantine, who, unper- ceived, entered her apartment-Chides with severity-- Colloquy upon Nature, Reason, and Religion-the Bishop confounded- -Confessional. .......................... 9 CHAPTER II.-Prairie City-Charles Clinton-Josephine Elbridge-An affair of the heart-Jesuitical artifice-the bereavement-Graveyard scene ....................23 CHAPTER III.- Intrigue and priestcraft-Josephine and her Mother in the Convent-Love's trials-The workings of Superstition-Mysterious death-Colloquy .......... 33 CHAPTER IV.-Charles Clinton learns that Josephine is in the Convent-His unhappiness-Soliloquy-The forged letter-Josephine's solitary reflections-Charles advises with a female friend-Resolves to rescue, if possible, the object of his love from the shackles of Superstition..... 38 CHAPTER V.--The social party, in which conversation turns upon Romanism, Nunneries, and Papal Schools- Protestant and Catholic institutions compared........ 46 CHAPTER VI.-Bishop Constantine in a fume-Soliloquy- Enter Dupee-Jesuitical plots and stratagems ......... 58 CHAPTER VII.-The entrapped politician-Mr. Slick gets Peter Twist into a pucker. ................. ... 67 CHAPTER VIII.-Josephine Elbridge takes the veil-Her interview with Isadora Greenwood-The unchristianlike rebuke administered by the Abbess. ............ " (v) page: vi (Table of Contents) -vii (Table of Contents) [View Page vi (Table of Contents) -vii (Table of Contents) ] vi CONTENTS. CHAPTER- -IX.-Fannie Brown's adventure-Josephine re- ceives the mysterious letter, and hastens with astonish- ment to Isadora ............. ................ 85 CHAPTER X.-The genteel spree-Ennui-Bad examples -The results of improper associations. .............. 90 CHAPTER XI.-Scene in a Coffee-house-Frailty of good Resolutions ......... ... ... .... ...... . . 101 CHAPTER XII.-Lizzie Allen and Helen Ashton take the veil-Isadora Greenwood a maniac ..... ...........112 CHAPTER XIII.--The shrewdness of Insanity-Haunted cell-Conspirators punished-Exorcism ..............118 CHAPTER XIV.-The disguise-A Jesuit out-witted-Jo- sephine's rescue .............................. .... 125 CHAPTER XV.-Blanch Alpine, Lizzie Allen, and Helen Ashton forsake the Convent-A priest in dishabille- Tragi-comedy. ............... .... ............... 133 CHAPTER XVI.--Early life of Dupee-His relationship to Bedini-Their boyhood associations - Immoral habits- Colloquy between Mr. and Mrs. Foresti ............. 144 CHAPTER XVII.-How it happened that Dupee and Bedini got to be priests-The cause of their subsequent promotion -Mrs. Foresti dragged before the Inquisition-Suffers death for reading and concealing interdicted books.... 157 CHAPTER XVIII.-Bedini recalled from Brazil in disgrace -Re-establishes himself in favor with the Papal Court by acting the spy-Proves traitor to the Republic-Is guilty of the death of Ugo Bassi ........... ......... 163 CHAPTER XIX.-Bedini Nuncio to America--Sanfedesti Order-Know-Nothings-Finale of Dupee ...........166 CHAPTER XX.-Secret session of an ecclesiastical council in the city of New York............................ 191 W I CONTENTS. vii CHAPTER XXI.- Charles Clinton's zeal in opposing priestly aggression -The lost nun-Bardstown Nun- nery . .... ... ... .................196 CHAPTER XXII.-Lizzie Allen and the Coquette. 220 CHAPTER XXlII. -Charles Clinton and the perfumed Exquiaites. . . . 224 "i c Ex q u*tes**......... ... ........ ...... .o224 CHAPTER XXIV.-A game of Coquetry--The crest-fallen Coxcomb. ..... * 228 CHAPTER XXV.-Lizzie and Elmore in conversation-- The humbugged lover-Farcical attempt at suicide.... 234 CHAPTER XXVI.-Josephine becomes the wife of Charles Clinton ..... ........................... 242 CHAPTER XXVII.-Charles Clinton's Infidelity-- Sabbath morning conversation . ......................... 247 CHAPTER XXVIII.-Fannie Brown and priest Reming- ton ................................... 257 CHAPTER XIX.--A priest in love-Renunciation of Romanism--Abduction-Fannie's adventure-The res- cue ..... ................... .....265 CHAPTER XXX.- Lilla Willard-Cruel charity of a Sister of Charity ....................2... . 273 CHAPTER XXXI.-The Convent, a School of Crime-An affair of jealousy-Lilla associated with the dissolute. 2" CHAPTER XXXII.-Richard Carlisle's engagement with Amelia Randolph....................... 283 CHAPTER XXXIII.-Lilla Willard's ultimate wretchedness -Her bitter repentance .............. ......... 287 CHAPTER XXXIV.--The vision-The Angel of Charity gives counsel-The law of kindness. ...............291 CONCLUSION ........... ........... 297 * ........... ..............297 page: 0[View Page 0] /I O tP "GHT, MORE LIGHT. ( aptrr 1. "St Mary's of the Woods "-A scene in the Convent-Isa- dora Greenwood, the repining Nun-Her soliloquy-Is overheard by Bishop Constantine, who, unperceived en- tered her apartment-Chides with severity-Colloquy upon Nature, Reason and Religion-The Bishop confounded- Confessional. THE golden sun was dipping behind the western hills;-and amid purple, fleecy, feathery clouds, seemed sinking to repose, like some proud monarch gracefully reclining on his gorgeous couch to rest. His yellow beams still gilded the tree tops, and tinted, with saffron hue, the magnificent prospect and romantic region of St. Mary's of the Woods. It was on a mild evening in June; the air soft, balmy and refreshing; nature wore her brightest livery,--and all things seemed sweetly serene. From an open window of the old, sequestered con- vent, looked forth, wistfully, at that impressive hour, upon the declining sun and glowing land- scape, a lovely damsel, attired as a nun, and appa- rently wrapped in pensive thought and melancholy musings. Awhile she sat in gloomy silence; then, in a soft and plaintive voice, thus soliloquized:- "The twilight deepens, and night once more page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] 10 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. drops her inky mantle, and with its gloomy folds shuts out the light of day:-so comes upon my poor heart a pall of darkness, quenching ever the last, lingering sunbeams of hope, while dismal shadows gather round my soul. * * The purple sky of life's smiling morn so soon o'ercast by leaden clouds on which the rainbow's glow is never seen! * * * They teach me to forget the home of my childhood, and give to oblivion its thousand inter- ests, associations, and endearments.-Pious counsel, I dare say! or rather dare not gainsay. "The enchanting scenes which once I knew, still so fresh and green on memory's page, tempt me sore- ly to fly this cheerless abode. * *X Dreary, how dreary these cloister walls! yet here I'm doomed to stay-fettered by vows more weighty than iron chains, and stronger than bars of brass! Oh! for a mind resigned to my allotment! but how can it be? Mine inmost nature rebels; spurns the shackles which ghostly fathers impose, and demands a wider, brighter, nobler sphere. "Once was I happy; sweet content, joy and de- light were mine-silver-tongued hope whispered in accents most charming, giving promise of a bright future. "Loved and caressed by friends and kindred, lightly and gaily I glided forth on the primrose path of pleasure.-But, why dwell on the past, or think of the golden hours no more to return?-Why in- dulge unavailing regrets?--'Tis done!--repining cannot alter it. The world I've abjured, to pur- chase heaven by a life of austerity, poverty and penance." "GHT, MORE LIGHT. " Then bowing her head in silence, she clasped her feverish brow, as if to check the burning cur- rent of her thoughts. To her heart's deep emotion she gave vent in flowing tears. A stern, chiding voice now startled the weeping maid-it was the voice of Bishop Constantine, who, having entered unperceived, and overhearing her soliloquy, said:--- Isadora, Isadora! hath Satan put it into thy heart to murmur against God? Whence this iniquitous spirit of repining and discontent?" "Alas! I know not," replied the sobbing girl. "Undutiful child!" exclaimed the Bishop, in yet harsher tones; "'tis alone for thy souls sake the Church graciously assigns you this place of holy rest. Hast thou no gratitude?" "Heaven forbid," responded Isadora, "that I should be ungrateful." "Esteem thyself happy in having escaped the allurements, snares and follies of a sinful world." "Almost havp I breathed the wish, impious though it be, that in my career of worldly pleasure, I'd ne'er been hailed by those who cared for my soul." "Tempted to wish thyself undone; left unabsolv- ed, unforgiven, and with heedless steps to pursue the way of ruin!-What madness! -Canst thou brook the thought of appearing before God in judg- ment with all thy sins upon thine head?-But for your spiritual guides, and the timely interposition of the priesthood, whither might have strayed thy wandering, helpless and benighted soul?" "Freely do I own, they've pointed me the way-- a dark, st andhorny way to heaven.-I bowed v^-fr15 v^s^ page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] 12 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. submission:-then began the winter of my soul; a frost, a killing frost, fell upon the budding, bloom- ing garden of my heart. That garden buds and blooms no more. Bleak winds have swept over it; its blossoms lie withered and strown; their beauty and perfume are gone." "Beware, Isadora! beware!" "Of what beware?" "Demons thy feet would ensnare, and hell al- ready opens wide its fiery jaws to devour thee." "Ah! I feel it true-there are demons seeking to ensnare me-aye, demons that wear the human form, and come not from afar." "What mean you? These impudent replies be- seem thee not.--Would'st thou be irreverent? For- get'st thou who thou art, and to whom thou speak- est?" "No, Father Confessor, no." "Little hast thou yet learnea respecting what's becoming a saint. Humility must grace the clois- ter-and as you hope to escape perdition nd at- tain unto life everlasting, I charge thee humble that lofty spirit of thine-bear, with saintly fortitude and patience, whatever duties or hardships the Church sees fit to impose. Esteem nosacrifice too great for the kingdom of heaven's sake; and, I charge thee, tear from thy mortal breast all earthly affections, attachments and desires." "Alas! how can I? 'twould annihilate all that's worth living for: 'twould end my being." "What? a recluse! and hesitate to give up the idols of thy heart? So lightly wear you the sacred vows of a nun?" "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 13 "Lightly I wear them not: like mountains of lead they ever hang upon my weary soul." "Ah! and you long, I dare say, to lay them aside. Once for all, I tell thee, Isadora, that stub- born, proud, rebellious spirit must be broken down, cost what it will." "Sacred are my vows, and inviolate I wish to keep them. Willingly, most willingly, I'd make any sacrifice to benefit earth or heaven; but why should I surrender the treasures of my heart, when thereby I neither benefit aught above or below the skies." "Such form of words from one of thy tender years and in your position!-here to be taught, not to teach! Why, 'tis downright presumption! 'tis audacious! What signifies the sacrifice of all this poor world offers? what, a mere lifetime of priva- tion, self-denial and penance? Think of eternal burnings, unutterable wo, and torments that shall never end. Think-fear-and tremble!" "What would'st thou, reverend father, have me do?" "Deal more severely with thyself-be satisfied to live a saint-love the cloister-desire nothing beyond-but heaven; nor think thither to go on flowery paths of pleasure. Give thyself to aus- terity--rigidly practice penance; remembering the attenuation of the body is the purifying and exal- tation of the spirit." "So I've tried to believe; but if to doubt be sin- ful, then am I a sinner, nor will a lifetime in the cloister likely transform me to a saint." "Perilous thy state;-clearly perceive I thou art page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] " LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. cursed with an unbelieving, wayward, restless mind. Unconscious stand you upon the verge of a fearful precipice-yea, on its very brink-its trembling, crumbling brink, you hang, -beneath lies a terrible abyss, deep as wide, and horrible as deep. There livid flames and liquid fires their angry billows toss. But a thread--a brittle thread, suspends thy deathless soul above that sulphurous, boiling lake; that raging, devouring, awful sea of black damna- tion. Mark me well;-if disobedient, amid those fiery waves forever and forever thou shalt dwell, and howling fiends and shrieking ghosts shall thy companions be.-Start you not at the picture?" "No; too familiar has it grown to my mind's eye." "Incorrigible! incorrigible!" "Father Confessor-" "Well, speak." "Tell me, if you will-do tell me, why we poor mortals must make earth a hell to gain heaven?" "Isadora, meddle not with things beyond thy reach." "Pardon me, much I crave to know how it is, that needless, useless torturing of the body can benefit the soul, or win the smiles of our divine Redeemer. You teach me to seek salvation by penance and the trampling down of my loftiest aspirations and best affections. Oh! how can it be-yet I'm to believe it is-that God is best pleased when we are most miserable?" a"With such questions you've naught to do, yet still must run thy limber tongue." "Well, then, since you instruct me so, I'll try to "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 15 believe, though much against my reason, that pleas- ure's a sill and enjoyment a transgression." "Talk not of what you understand not." "Limited in knowledge, I seek to be enlight- ened." l "Would'st thou fathom the profound mysteries of religion? 'Tis presumption! ' Little canst thou comprehend of things spiritual-nor need thy weak brain be troubled-for the path of duty lies plainly open before thine eyes-'tis to believe and obey. Cease to question your spiritual superiors, nor dare to doubt their infallibility." "Accustomed was I, in earlier years, to contem- plate religion as a form divinely bright-a seraph of celestial birth-bringing the joys of earth in her left hand, and in her right the felicities of heaven. Fatal heresy! then was I blind of heart, but now, being enlightened by the Church, I'm made to see that religion is austere, unfeeling and morose; requiring the sacrifice of all we hold dear upon the earth; and comes to fetter the soul, imprison the body, shut out the light and beauty of earth,-mak- ing the way to heaven dark and difficult." "' Who giveth thee authority thus to speak? Pre- sume you thus to answer me with words of irony, and impudently hurl the shafts of sarcasm at my godly admonitions?" "Perplexed is my wavering mind,-and filled with doubts, misgivings, and gloomy apprehen- sions. I beseech you instruct me:-answer me this:-Is religion given to oppress and burden frail humanity, rather than strengthen, sustain and comfort? Comes it to chill and paralyze every page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] 15 JLIGHT, MORE LIGHT. generous emotion which stirs within the heart; that elevates, refines and ennobles human nature? Is it the mission of divine religion, to sunder the sweetest ties of friendship and love; kindle the fires of hate, and bestrew life's pathway with thorns, sorrows and temptations? If so, the less of this religion we have, the better are we off." "What fatal delusion is this?-What fiend puts into thy brain thoughts so wild-dreams fantastic? -yet impious, heaven daring, God provoking. Hear you no admonition? listen no rebuke? Ready to distrust your spiritual guides, to whom you have committed the care of your soul, and the keeping of your conscience?-Is the priesthood in error? the infallible Church gone astray?" "I say not so; but speak only of what seems dark to me. -For how inexplicable, that life's brightest charms and sweetest joys must wither; the heart be turned to a mournful, melancholy desolation; our spirits be stripped of every fragrant flower, tender plant, and clustering vine, that per- fume and adorn the chambers of the soul, to fit. us for celestial climes! 'Twould seem, then, the home of the angels is less desirable, less attractive than earth." "Less desirable, doubtless, to the disobedient, and to one who is more of a Satan than Saint.-- When with the damned cast out-where there's weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth, and with- out speedy repentance such shall be thy certain doom-the heaven you scorn may not then so un- attractive appear." "Is heaven but a place of refuge for the fortu- nate who escape hell?-No higher charms hath it?' "GOHT, MORE LIGHT. 17 *"But once feel the kindling, withering, consuming fires of that nether world of woe, and, my word for it, you'll ask for nothing more than a place of refuge. I admonish thee, tame those adventurous, roving thoughts; no more let them run at will; sub. due, and teach them in quiet to rest." "Can the foaming sea rest?-Can the volcanic fires and boiling lava that shake Vesuvius rest? To restrain my wayward thoughts, much I've striven; but so fleet of wing-like humming-birds ere I grasp them, they've flown-and so swiftly,- their flight, no eye can trace." "Bridle them-hold hard the curb and rein-nor once relax, 'till thou hast triumphed." "But this morning, it was, at early dawn, I rose resolving anew to divorce my heart from all carnal things, and to seek to be more devotional." "Proper, very proper!" "Having thus determined within myself, I sat me down by the window, there to devote an holy hour to religious meditation. Unawares, my atten- tidn was attracted to the little, merry birds, gaily fluttering and sweetly singing among the green branches of those locust trees that shade our back grounds. Involuntarily, I exclaimed: Happy, creatures! free to fly at will, and on your downy wings to cleave the bright and silvery air where- so'er fancy leads. What delights! What trans- ports are yours! While here is wretched Isadora. sad-hearted, imprisoned, and cut off fl-om all that's delightful on the face of the earth." "Suggestions of the devil;-that arch apostate, always seeking to allure, whom he would destroy." 2 page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] 18 LIGHT^IORE LIGHT. "In the midst of my reflections, there caught my eye a bevy of fashionable young ladies, gliding by on yonder street. There seemed enchantment in' their graceful movements, elastic steps and gay at- tire. And when their ringing laugh and tones of gladness came floating on the air, what a thrill ran through my frame! My pulse quickened-my bosom heaved with intense and mingled emotions. "Then, for the moment, how I was tempted to de- sert the convent, and return to the busy world of life,--once more to taste its pleasures. But soon, very soon, recollection hurried me back to despair; the sad remembrance came, that my wings were clipped; my pinions shorn by the religion I'm taught to revere. Yet in vain I bade my soul be still; my bounding heart, in copious streams, poured forth its gushing sensibilities-whether more of delight or of anguish, 'twas hard to tell- so forcibly was I reminded of the day when, like them, I was happy, unfettered, and free." '"Isadora! hear me:-rest not, day nor night, 'till thou hast from thy mind erased every fond recollec- tion of the world without,-and when such delusive fancies haunt thine imagination, go straightway to thy closet; shut out from thine eyes the light of day,-and there do penance until thy soul be fully subdued. "Hear me yet further;-distrust your reason; confide not in thine own understanding;-neither have any will of your own; but look with confidence to us, whom God and the Church appoint to watch over thee." "Reasonable, is it, to interdict the use of reason? "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 19 Has the human soul a more exalted attribute? Surely 'tis Heaven's highest, noblest gift. Why is this sublime light kindled within us?-Certainly not to be extinguished.'" "'Tis a false, deceptive, dangerous light, and hath millions led to hopeless perdition." "Then 'tis well you discourage me in the use of a faculty so mischievous." "Think not religion needs the puny aid of pur- blind, impotent human reason. In things spiritual, the Church utterly repudiates the authority of reason." "To my feeble mind, confess I must, nothing more unreasonable appears than a religion which sets aside the dictates of reason." "'Tis set aside because of its impotence." "Doth not enlightened reason see God in his works,-and seeing, adore him?" "Pray, tell me, since so wondrous wise you've grown, what does reason see of God, and where find him?" His power, reason beholds in the immensity of creation ;-his wisdom, in its vast variety, beauty, order and harmony;-his goodness, in the adapta- tion of every thing to beneficent purposes. To reason's eye, the glory of God is unfolded upon every page in nature's great book. Divinity is written upon the skies-on the sun, moon, and stars; as well as on every leaf that flutters in the breeze, and every spire of grass, and opening flower, that decorate earth's green bosom." "Amazing!" said the Bishop, turning aside with an air of confusion, "sage reflections! thoughts page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] 20 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. ripe beyond her years ;-a mind like hers will ne'er contentment find within convent walls. I'll dis- course with her yet further." Then returning, he addressed her thus :-"Isadora, alas! to skepticism inclined, perceive I, thy youthful mind." "'Tis even so;--nor can it be otherwise, till it appear the religion you recommend is sanctioned by enlightened reason." "Indeed!-turning philosopher! a speculative brain thou hast. See'st, thou anything unreason- able, irrational, in the precepts or requirements of our holy religion?" "Reason teaches me one thing, and priests another; to reconcile these teachings, is to my mind impossible." "Impossible! say you?-The fault lies but in the blindness of thine eyes. Wherein, pray tell me, seem these, to thine understanding, irreconcilable!" "When abroad I look on the illimitable and glorious universe, reason says to me, God delights in beauty, sublimity and variety;-else, why are his works so beautiful, sublime, and so varied. Yet I'm taught these qualities to despise, and on their shining glory to shut my mortal eyes." "And for the reason, that outward attractions would steal away thy heart from God." "Rather, win me to him; since therein is re- flected his adorable image. Again, if thou wilt bear with me. Look at the flowers-the gentle flowers; why are they not uniform in color, shape and texture? Why are they not all sable, or drab? See what endless variety they exhibit; and what brilliant hues; how delicately tinted, ruffled and "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 2 fringed! Reason says, God is pleased to have them so;--and reason teaches us nature to imitate. Why, then, may we not attire our persons as God hath clothed the myrtle, and arrayed the lily? Now see how contradictory these indications, and your requirements of me and of all the inmates of the cloister. We must clothe ourselves in per- petual black, our apparel must be coarse, plain and unadorned; our sable caps, untrimmed, by ribbon or ruffle, cover our shorn heads without grace or comeliness;-and what seems a greater outrage still, upon nature and reason, is the muti- lation of our rich, luxuriant hair, which the benevolent Creator gave us for a covering and an ornament. Where are the ringlets-the flowingr tresses-nature so profusely hung about my tem- ples, and which I so highly prized? Ah! was it consistent with reason that you divested me of nature's innocent adornings? Religion, you aver requires the sacrifice." "It becamnie my solemn duty, lest thy heart Should go astray and be set on thy personal "'Twould seem, then, the Creator hath formed us too well, too beautiful himself to please, there- fore demands we mar the impress of his hands, so as to appear less comely in his sight." "Strange conceits, Isadora! strange conceits," remarked Bishop Constantine, quite impatiently- at the same time advancing toward the door of the apartment ;-pausing a moment at the threshold he added: "and wicked as strange! Come, go you now to the confessional." Saying which, he ab- ruptly left the room. page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] Isadora rose to her feet, as if she would obey ;he priestly command; taking a few reluctant steps, she suddenly paused, and after a moment, ;houghtfully bending her eyes upon the floor, said ;o herself, in a suppressed voice--"Much shall I profit making confession of my sins to a hardened, heartless sinner." Then, turning about, resumed her seat; and in a few moments seemed lost in a sea of gloomy reflections. i ,i 'l w! leinpta rr 2. affair of theheeart--Jesuitical artifice--The bereavement.. resided Charles Clinton, a young man of spotless name and rare virtues, as well as brilliant genius. He was cousin to Isadora Greenwood,-the melan- choly nun, already introduced to the reader.-- Tharles was of highly respectable and pious Prot- ,stant parents; but did not himself make any re- igious pretensions, other than that of a profound espect for Christianity Though entirely Protest- rhatever, against Papists; nor cherished he the ightest feeling of hostility toward monastic insti- tions; until his cousin Isadora, whom he held in ghest estimation, had consented to take the veil, Id become a recluse This circumstance, which is to 3young/ Clinton a source of long and heart- t grief, led his youthful mind to reflect upon 'he iquity and cruelty of the cloister, and the great propriet y into which TAoany Protestant parents (23) page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] "GHT, iMORE LIGHT. fall, of placing juvenile minds under priestlY influ- ence and guidance, for educational purposes. Not long after Isadora entered the cloister, Charles Clinton made the acquaintance of Miss Josephine Elbridge, late of Alabama; who, with her parents, had located on abeautiful farm in the im- mediate vicinity of Prairie City. Josephinewas an only child; had seen sixteen summers,- and been reared amid all the luxuries and gaiety of the sun- ny outh. Yet she was a charming girl--a bright and beautiful flower-loved and caressed by all who knew her. As is the case with the people of the south generally, neither daughter nor parents inclined to any particular form of religion. The chief aim of Mr. Elbridge's life had been the ac- quisition of wealth; nor in this had he failed of success; his estate was very considerable. The daughter, though denominated an heiress, and con- stantly flattered, betrayed nothing vain nor haugh- ty in her disposition, but was ever aimable,kind and obliging to all d amiabilit Charles Clinton, on whom beauty and am never failed to make an impression, was at once captivated by the loveliness, witching smiles and charming conversation of the fascinating Josephine. And she, no less susceptible, was equally smitten with him. sephine mutu Time passed on :-Charles and Josephine mutu ally loved; and, ere a twelvemonth, were engaged the generally received maxim to the contrary, nol withstanding. - One bright summer morning the two lovel "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 25 might have been seen in a glittering vehicle, drawn by a prancing steed, elegantly caparisoned, dash- ing across the green plain in the direction of St. Mary's. The object, however, was merely a pleasure ex- cursion, and to enjoy each other's society uninter- rupted and alone. Passing in full view of the convent, the young lady exclaimed: "Charles, see that gloomy pile surrounded by such beautiful scenery." "That is St. Mary's of the Woods, Josephine," replied he. "Ah! this, then, is the nunnery of which I've so often heard." "Yes. The right wing of the edifice is called fhe Academy. There many Protestant, and some Catholic children are being educated-not so much however in science, as in the Romish religion.- The left wing of the building, which you perceive is yet more hideous in its appearance, is the cloister, where many young ladies are imprisoned for life, under the specious pretence of being made saints, rendered spiritual, and fit for heaven."' "Are they incarcerated thus against their will?" "'Tis said to be voluntary on their part, yet in reality it is not so, for they are deluded by artful priests and led blindly into the snare. When once entangled in the meshes of papal superstition, they are then held fast by irrevocable vowsi the fears of hell and hopes of heaven." "I've heard you speak, Charles, of your cousin, Isadora Greenwood, having taken the veil." "Yes, she stays in that miserable cloister- buried alive." 3 page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] 26 LIGIIT, MORE LIGHT. "Strange; her parents, I'm told, were Protes- tants." "Yes; from mistaken -views, and thinking to afford Isadora superior educational advantages, her fond mother placed her under the guidance and tuition of Romish teachers and the priesthood; and ere she was aware, the tender mind of her child was imbued with a dark and bewildering super- stition." "Alas! that she should consent to such a seclud- ed life!" "They teach a system which poisons the very fountain of thought, feeling and affection; beclouds the intellect, stupefies moral sensibility, and crushes all that's noble and divine in human nature." "'Tis a form of religion of which I know but little, nor have I ever witnessed their mode of wor- ship, notwithstanding there is a Catholic Church in our village." Passing from this topic to a subject more agree- able to each, their conversation grew cheerful and animated. They talked of love, and again renewed their vows. Delightfully passed the hours, which like momet's seemed, till they had returned again to the village, full of hope, and looking forward to a golden future. In a few months after her engagement with Charles Clinton, Josephine's father, by the cold, relentless hand of death, was suddenly taken away -leaving wife and daughter disconsolate and heart broken. This deep affliction proved the more trying and weighty as they were far removed from "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 27 relatives; and were yet comparatively strangers in the country. Some time subsequent to the decease of Mr. Elbridge, the bereaved wife and daughter, wearing the weeds of mouring, were seen directing their course slowly and silently toward the cemetry, whither had been conveyed the cold and lifeless form of the lamented. The burial grounds were shaded chiefly by maple and other forest growth. It was on a lovely after- noon in autumn; the air was calm, bright and sil- very, and all nature serene. The yellow leaves were quietly dropping upon the graves of the sleep- ers, as if strown by spirit-hands for the tenants of the tombs. With measured pace and velvet footfall, as if fearful of marring the repose of death, the sad hearted mother and her weeping child approached the urn of the departed; and, bowing- their heads, bedewed with pearly tears the cold marble that marked the final resting place of the husband. and father. It was a scene for angels to behold! Who would have thought there lived a mortal capable of looking all emotionless on that touching picture! Yet breathed there such an one;-a Jesuit's eye, peering through the lattice of an iron gateway lead- ing into the enclosure, regarded the weepers-it was the eye of priest Dupee. Casting upon the bereav. ed a look, not of tenderness and sympathy, but a sordid, avaricious leer, he said-", Ah! a widow, no doubt, and daughter it may be;-that costly mar- page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] ble," continued he, "on which they recline, indi- cates wealth,-the poor honor not their dead thus." X "What may not a Jesuit dare? True, I may fail-if so, so be it; I'll make the attempt. A most auspicious moment to seal an impression! when the heart sorrows for the dead, and the eyes are dim with weeping, then will the voice of a priest be heard, and the soul with eagerness turn to offers of salvation. I'll go administer spiritual comfort. Whether of Protestant faith, or of no faith, it matters little-it's not in the nature of wo- man 'to turn away from religious appeals in the presence of the dead." While thus soliloquizing, he had opened the gate and proceeded toward the two females, on whom, at all hazards, he had resolved to try his jesuitical arts. The sound of the intruder's footsteps as he drew near, arrested the attention of Mrs. Elbridge, who, turning quickly round, was astonished to be- hold, standing before her, a stranger in priestly garb, and with face not unlike a tombstone. "Pardon, dear souls," said the Jesuit, at the same time lowly bowing himself, affecting great humil- ity, "I entreat you pardon my intrusion," he con- tinued; "I am one whom sorrow and sighing at- tract; by a divine impression have I been lead into this dwelling place of the dead: a mysterious voice whispered me-' Go, comfort the widow and the orphan, whom you will find weeping among the tombs;' in obedience to that voice I have come hither. On my way I saw a vision-it was of two females clad in suits of wo and wearing looks of grief. Sorrowing ones, my mission is to you. Be- I--- A . * 29 neath that house of marble some dear one lies; your hearts are with him there in the grave; but come away; his fate is sealed; 'tis time to mourn for yourselves." Saying which, he pointed mysteriously toward eaven; then making the sign of the cross, walked away. Josephine-and her mother stood speechless and amazed, scarcely able to decide whether they had seen a goblin or a veritable man of flesh and blood. At length, regaining the power of speech, Mrs. /Elbridge exclaimed, "Will he tell us no more? Josephine, follow him, and entreat that he speak with us further. What could he mean? But stop,. he is returning." "Dear ma, I have a horror of the man," said the daughter, turning pale, and trembling, " he looks liked. conjuror." "Say not so, my child; he is a priest, and may be a good and holy man. By some supernatural in- fluence, it would seem, he hath been guided to us. How strange that vision he told of!" "See how he bends his eyes to the ground as he walks. Hark! he's praying to the Virgin Mary." "When he comes a little nearer I'll speak to him." "Do not, mother; let us go away." "No, stay we till he comes; fear nothing, a praying man cannot harm you." "A wizard might." " Say no more; I must know what he means Tell me, thou man of God, what signified your words-- his fate is sealed '-did'st thou refer to my dead husband?" page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] "Verily." "Canst thou divine lhis fate?" "That can I, by the assistance of the Holy Vir- gin Mary, whom day and night I invoke." "Then say, if thou knowest, whither hath flown his departed soul." Turning his eyes with a horrifying expression upon the green grave of her husband, regarding it for a moment fixedly as if his gaze penetrated the solid marble, he said, in a sepulchral, doleful voice: "In the deep caverns of hell, wrapt in curling flames, writhes in unspeakable agony his immor- tal spirit." -Then glancing at the countenance of the lady, to see what effect his words had produced, he read- ily perceived her credulity was a little staggered, and that he had put on the agony quite too strong. Quickly tacking about, as a Jesuit knows how, he began speaking comforting words; expressing great solicitude for their salvation, and assuring the mother and daughter, that by the saying of mass he could deliver the soul of the lamented from the fires of purgatory. Then begging the privilege of visiting them at their residence, at some future time,-that he have further opportunity of recommending to their consideration, the holy Catholic faith-he left them to their meditations and went away. * t * I* * * But few days had elapsed, when Priest Dupee found his way to the residence of Mrs. Elbridge. So well did he now dissemble, and with such apparent earnestness manifest sympathy, on ac- count of their late bereavement, that he failed not ---.., ...v^ U.. ar. 31 to produce some favorable impression in his own behalf. After many touching appeals, he prevailed on the widow to allow him to say mass for the soul of her deceased husband. When he had taken leave, Josephine remarked to her mother,--"That is a mysterious personage, ma: his appearance produces upon me singular sensations. I can scarcely account for the aversion I feel towards him, unless there be something won- drous wicked in the man." "All imaginary; Josephine! all imaginary!" Why insists he so on saying mass? A sense- less ceremony!" "Say not so, my daughter; religion is a mystery; and being such, we need not think to comprehend it. Besides, it is something, per'haps, which we have too long neglected." "I cannot help thinking, ma., that priest may have some designs upon us." "Indulge not such strange fancies, Josephine, your suspicions-are groundless." "How happens it he has become so suddenly interested in us-entire strangers as we are to him -never even haviag visited his church."- "Being a priest, and ever devoted to religion, his only concern is to save souls. We, as well as others, having souls to save, why should he not be interested in us?" The Jesuit continued his visitations and spiritual advice notwithstanding Josephine's aversion. Mrs. Elbridge, deceived by the pretended sympa- thy, and insinuating manners of her Rev. visitor was by degrees brought under his infuence. Yet , m - . A page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] 32 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. she managed to conceal the fact from Charles Clinton, whose friendship she greatly prized; and whom, she well knew, entertained no favorable opinion of the papal clergy. Josephine and Charles spent much of their time in each other's society; their mutual attachment strengthened, and love grew fervent. Each expec- ted in the course of a few months, at most, to con- summate their union." / ,- 2X / ,' Ciapthr 3. Intrigue and Priestcraft-Josephine and her Mother in the Convent-Love's trials-The workings of Superstition- Mysterious death-Colloquy. THE sycophant priest Dupee, who had spread his toil in the dark, for unwary feet, at length succeed- ed but too well in entangling the innocent and in- experienced mind of Josephine, and that of her no less unsuspecting mother, in the meshes of papal superstition. This he did, more by operating upon their fears than by inspiring them with respect either for himself or the religion he recommended. Caused to feel a painful concern with regard to the salvation of their souls, whilst they had no set- tled views or just conception of Bible religion, they were left in a labyrinth of darkness and perplexity. Perceiving which, the designing Jesuit was encour- aged to persist in practising upon them his jesuit- ical arts. Dupee now conceived the design of-persuading Josephine to complete her education at "St. Mary's of the Woods," and also of inducing her mother to renounce the world and become a recluse. To accomplish this, however, he well knew it was ne- cessary to proceed with the utmost caution, and play the Jesuit with consummate skill. (33) page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] Josephine had already graduated at a Protestant boarding-school in the state of Alabama; but the priest insisted that a higher polish be given to her education; and averred that it could only be ob- tained in the nunnery. Fearful of awakening suspicion, he ventured not at first so far as to advise Mrs. Elbridge to take the veil; but suggested to her the& propriety of ac- companying her daugher to the convent, where she would find the religious advantages so neces- sary to her soul's salvation. By persevering importunity, and after many fair speeches, he gained the consent of each to comply with his wishes. But there came a trial, a heart-trial for Joseph- i e. Such were the rules and regulations of the nunnery, that during the school term she must be cut off from the society of Charles, as well as all her former associates,-nor be allowed even to correspond with him by letter. Aware of her attachment to young Clinton, and fearing his influence over her wavering mind, the priest had the precaution to enjoin secresy as to where they were going-suggesting that their neighbors could easily receive the impression of their having taken a journey south, to the place of their former residence, which he said would seem plausible and prevent gossip. This proposition Josephine relished not, but in- sisted on a parting interview with Charles, and an opportunity of reassuring him of her unchanging love, and unwavering purpose to fulfil her engage- ment. When urged to a speedy compliance with priest Dupee's wishes, she said-"I cannot consent to go until I have seen Charles and made known to him my intentions." "Your intentions," responded the priest, in a positive, overbearing, and dictatoral tone, "must not be known either to Charles Clinton or any one else. I've good reasons," continued he, " fo thus advising." "Not allow me even a parting word?" said the heart-striken girl, despondingly, and with a faltering voice. "'Tis not needful; I'll make for you all necessary apologies, and such, I warrant, as will satisfy your lover." "Permit me at least to see, and bid him fare- well." "Better not; you'll one day approve my counsel, though unpalatable it now may seem." Over persuaded, and induced to rely on. the priest's promise to satisfy Charles Clinton, with re- gard to their sudden and unceremonious departure, the mother and daughter made preparations and went with the priest to the convent. * * * On the evening of the same day Charles drove up to the Elbridge mansion, expecting Josephine to accompany him as she was wont to do, in a pleasure-ride across the plains. To his surprise the doors were closed, and no one to be seen. With feelings of disappointment he returned; yet con- fident that on the following day he would find Josephine and her mother at home as usual. On the morrow he again visited the residence of Mrs. Elbridge; but still all was quiet, and, to Charles; page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] looked desolate. He now began to think it strange; but in vain sought to ascertain the cause of their absence: none could give the desired in- formation. In the course of a few days it was rumored that Mrs. Elbridge and daughter had gone on a visit to the South. Charles was constrained to believe the report; yet it seemed to him unaccountable that his belov- ed Josephine should consent thus to go away with- out a word of explanation, or the least kindly adieu. This stung to the quick his proud and sensitive soul, and left him in utter amazement. Separated from him she loved, and associated with uncongenial spirits, Josephine was unhappy, restless and discontent; but surrounded by such baneful and blinding influences, the dark cloud of superstition by degrees gathered and thickened upon the sky of her mind. She was taught to re- gard every element of pleasure and enjoyment, as opposed to a religious life, and calculated to en- danger the soul's salvation. Thus was she induced to turn away from all that was delightful, and wed herself to misery. The mother, equally deluded by their mummery, and the imposing forms of Catholic worship, read- ily resigned her soul, as well as her temporal concerns, into the hands of the priesthood. A circumstance, however, eventually occurred in the management of Mrs. Elbridge's estate, that all at once awakened her suspicions, and served to convince herthat her soul was less cared for than her gold. She immediately complained to her con- fessor, threatened to expose his villainy, and de- -wltn'r, aMORE JIGHT. 37 manded her daughter, whom she had not for a length of time been permitted to see. Directly after this occurrence Mrs. Elbridge sud- denly and unaccountably disappeared. Rumor, however, some time afterward, cautiously whis- pered-she was poisoned. The day subsequent to the report of Mrs. Elbridge's death, Rev. Dupee entered the apart- ment of the Lady Superior, when- the following conversation ensued:- Worthy abbess, heard you of the sudden death of Mrs. Elbridge, Josephine's mother?" "No," replied the abbess, " is she indeed out of the way?' "Aye, is she; and now must I catch the golden ball of opportunity-seize on this mournful-to us joyous event-making fit occasion for calling Josephine's mind anew to the subject of becoming a recluse. This unlooked for stroke of Providence will favor my designs, in which if I fail not, the Church will gain a windfall; for Josephine is now left sole heir to a large estate." "Dost think she still loves Charles Clinton?" "There's the trouble; how to extinguish the flame is what most puzzles me." "Had the forged letter no effect?" "It made her frantic; yet still to him her affec- tions cling as the ivy to the oak; and she is ever re- proaching herself rather than him. Other expedi- ents must I try. See you to it she neglects not her devotions;-especially enforce fasting and penance. She must be humbled--even though it cost the breaking of her heart-strings." I'll do my duty," said the abbess. page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] Cljaphto i. Charles Clinton learns that Josephine is in the Convent-His unhappiness -Soliloquy-The forged letter -Josephine's solitary reflections-Charles advises with a female friend- Resolves to rescue, if possible, the object of his love from the shackles of Superstition. After the death of Mrs. Elbridge, one of the Sis- ters. of Charity connected with the Convent, forsook St. Mary's, and renounced Romanism; but never would give her reasons for so doing. Through her it was Charles Clinton first got a clew to the mystery, concerning the absence of Josephine and her mother. The tidings astonished him beyond measure, and at first staggered his be- lief. At length, convinced that she was hopelessly deluded, he grew dejected and melancholy. One night, from his sleepless couch, on which he had tossed from side to side, he slowly raised himself up, saying, in a tone which denoted extreme wretchedness:- "O, that this long, long night were past! How tardily the moments run! Hour after hour wearily passes on,-while still vainly I strive to lock my feverish brain in oblivious slumber. * * '* * Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep, where art thou? Gone, perchance, to light on lids unsullied (38) "GoT, MORE LIGHT. 39 with a tear. Why not come to the abode of misery willingly as thou seek'st the dwelling places of the happy? * * . * Well hath it been said, 'sorrow murders sleep,-sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care, and pours the healing balm of quiet on hurt minds.'" Now rising to his feet and walking up and down his chamber for some moments, with an abstracted air, he thus resumed: "Josephine, 'tis thoughts of thee that cause my unrest. Thou who wert my delight-the brightest star that gemmed my skies, how hast thou fallen! The beauty of the firma- ment hath faded! the ornament of heaven is gone! -Had relentless death snatched thee from me,- the cold grave received thy fair form,-I could have borne it: but to know that a vile sycophant hath wrought thy ruin; and that a miserable, crushing superstition fetters thy youthful minds-and hath led thee to a prison more dismal than the charnal- house-touches me deeply. " ' : * She is lost!- lost to her friends, to society and to herself! Lost to the world and to me! Lost to happiness, to usefulness-lost to every thing for which her gener- ous heart, exalted intellect and noble nature fitted her! Influenced-by a perfidious wretch, an insinu- ating, heartless Jesuit, Josephine has forgotten the pledges of her love and consented to a life worse than death! * * * * If of her own accord she had cast me off thus,-in iproud disdain I could turn away and blot her image from my heart. But 'tis not so--not her own, but another's fault. A false, cruel and monstrous religion transforms her nature-makes her what she was not. * * * * * page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] 40 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. I'm not wont to cherish hate,-but I swear to be revenged on the serpent that infused the deadly poison into her innocent mind. Dupee shall rue the day he thought to win her from me. * * * * The dawn at length approaches, and the stars be- gin to fade. Would that the darkness of my heart, and these heavy thoughts, like the gloom of night, might too disappear!" Return we again to the Convent. Dupee, dis- covering that despite all his efforts to break the silken cord of affection that bound the heart of Josephine to Charles Clinton, she loved him still, resolved to try his hand on another false letter; he had already forged one in the name of Clinton; but as it proved ineffectual, being, as he thought, too mild, the wretch set about a second, into which was poured all the gall of his vindictive nature. Disclosing his base intention to the Abbess, he said: "Josephine must take the veil; she must enter the cloister; else she'll yet marry young Clinton. I can closely imitate the handwriting of her lover; and this time she'll receive a love note that will turn her love to hate. You must convey it to her-saying, Charles Clinton gave it you with his own hand. Let us fail not in this, for Jose- phine is now sole heir to a large estate. Should she take the vows and become a recluse, I can easily manage to have her entire heritage fall to the Church; but if she still proves stubborn, and af- ter all marries, why we're sadly defeated." The vile, billingsgate letter being prepared, the Abbess proceeded with it to the apartment occupied by Josephine; finding her alone, she approached "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 41 her blandly, saying-"Dear girl, I've just seen Charles, the idol of your heart; he put into my hand this note--a love note, no doubt-with the as I do, with an unbroken seal, is, as you're aware, a departure from our rules; yet knowing you'd pre- EI YOfer receiving it thus, I've thought proper to gratify you." With a trembling hand and palpitating heart the poor girl took the letter. The Abbess imme- diately turning away, left her to peruse it alone. Not many minutes after Josephine received the offensive missive, Dupee entered her room, and found the unhappy girl convulsively weeping. What now, dear child?" enquired the priest tenderly--putting on, as far as a villain can, a look and tone of innocence; "tell me the cause, loved one, of these sobs and tears?" When able sufficiently to compose herself, she said, with a faltering voice: "Alas, my unkindness, my cruelty and wicked neglect, have changed a heart once pure, a soul once noble, to malignity. Charles Clinton is almost a fiend-and 'twas I that made him such." "Reproach not yourself, my angel;" said her confessor; " that Clinton is a vile heretic, and mark my words, he'll yet teach you to despise him. Is that his letter?" "His name signs it; and she who brought it me said Charles Clinton gave it her." "Let ine see what the reprobate has dared write you." Saying which, he rudely seized the letter, 4 page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] *4. LifiurL X, AVJ, . 1j, * and rapidly tracing the lines, with an assumed ex- pression of indignation, he exclaimed-"Base! base 1" then dashing it down, stamped upon it with his foot, remarking: "I hope now, Josephine, you'll banish forever all thoughts of that depraved youth from your mind. Unworthy of your love, and a contemner of our holy faith, he is fit only for perdi- tion." Josephine persisted in bitterly reproaching her- self, rather than him. The image of Charles was too deeply daguerreotyped upon her heart, to be easily erased. Reflecting, when left alone, upon the melancholy event of her mother's death, and thinking, too, of the change which had come over Charles, whom she felt had now ceased to love her, she gave ut- terance in a subdued, mournful voice to the follow- ing words: "The last tie, save one, that binds me to earth is now severed. My mother sleeps in the silent grave. O, that I too were quietly reposing in the tomb! I long for the icy fingers of death to touch and still this aching heart! Yet am I linked, and by a golden chain, to one other object in this world of woe:' Charles! Charles! I cannot cease to love that name. But that his love for me has changed to hate, why think I strange? why com- plain? * * * Charles Clinton could not have been himself when that strange letter he wrote. But did he write it?" she said in a dubious tone; " could a mind so noble have conceived so basely? Dark suspicions force themselves upon me. The hand- writing resembled Clinton's-yet, hardly could I say 'twas his. Can it be that heaven requires plots 1B:I LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. 4 an schemesof de43 and schemes of deception to win us to the ways of truth and life? Let me not accuse my spiritual guides, who seek my immortal soul to save from mortal sin. Either Satan tempts me, or hath my confessor tempted." * * .* *. In conversation with a female acquaintance the mutual friend of Josephine and Charles, the latter remarked: "Think you, Mrs. Deming, there re- mains no alternative? Is Josephine hopelessly lost?"ne hopelessly "I fear, Mr. Clinton, there's no remedy: Papal superstition operates as a slow poison; and sooner or later takes effect-fatal effect." "Yes, fatal." "Nothing so effectually infatuates, blinds and bewilders the human mind, as a religious delusion." "That such a mind as Josephine possesses, should be so far led into darkness and absurdity, is unaccountable. But I cannot be satisfied without making an effort to break the manacles that fetter her faculties. Though 'tis certain Dupee will not easily relinquish his fell purpose." "Be assured he will not." "'And his dark designs to carry out, he'll scruple not to employ any artifice. The fiend! he may yet wish himself in Rome, under the protecting wing of the Pope." "Do nothing rashy, Mr. Clinton." I'd like to be his inquisitor." "Thereby nothing could' be gained; leave the reprobate to God, and to the goadings of his own conscience. page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] " LiGHT, MORE LIGHT. "Then would I leave him quite alone; for sure he's God forsaken; and as to conscience, he hath none." "True,-but too true." "I have prepared a letter for Josephine, which I had hoped might by some means be conveyed to her; yet I know not how it can be done." "It may be she has already taken the black veil, if so, she's shut up in the cloister, where 'tis impos- sible to gain access to her. Yet if it could be as- certained what room she occupies in that wing of the building, if really she has taken the vows and become a recluse, a missive, perchance, might be thrown in at her window, which would likely be left open till a late hour these warm evenings. If any one is calculated for an adventure of the sort, 'tis Fanny Brown; and she'd delight in it too." "No doubt; and if I mistake not, Fanny had made Josephin,'s acquaintance before she went to St. Mary's." ' "Certainly she had; and they soon became inti- mate friends. Give me the letter Mr. Clinton; I'll put it into the hands of Miss Brown; and if it is possible, rest assured, she'll manage to have it reach Josephine." "I'll be truly obliged. This is it; 'twas written with the hope of awakening in Josephine's mind some salutary reflections." "At all events 'tis worth the trial," remarked Mrs. Deming, as she received from the hand of Charles a neatly enveloped letter, having elegantly inscribed upon it the name-Josephine Elbridge. Then immediately taking leave, she went to seek Fanny Brown. "GHT, MOiE LIGHT. 45 Before resuming this thread of our story, I must ask leave, kind reader, to introduce several new characters. I can give no assurance, however, that you will be delighted with them all: You inay re- gret having made the acquaintance of some: yet since it devolves on the writer to paint men and women as they are, not as they should be, why, he may hope at least to escape censure. "] page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] The social party, in which conversation turns upon Roman- ism, Nunneries and Papal Schools-Protestant and Catho- lic institutions compared. ONE day in the latter part of the summer, of the same year back to which our story dates, a social party had by invitation assembled at the residence of Mr. Brown, in Prairie City. After dinner, which was a sumptuous one, a variety of topics were freely discussed, as is common on such occasions, and in social circles. At length the conversation turned upon Catholicism, Nunneries and Papal Schools. Mrs. Summerville, a woman of superior intelligence, remarked to a fashionable lady who sat next her: "I think it so strange, Mrs. Allen, that your daughter Elizabeth has gone to St. Mary's of the Woods, for the purpose of completing her education." "'Tis not her choice, but mine," responded the lady addressed. "That is still more singular, That you, a Prot- estant, should prefer educating your daughter at a Romish school indeed surprises me much." "I cherish no religious prejudices, Mrs. Summer- ville." "That is well; I wish all the world could say as much. For my own part I'm connected with no (46) 1t4 LTIGGHT, MORE LIGHT. 47 Church-have never been identified with any relig- ious denomination; yet I cannot help regarding it as inconsistent, and exceedingly injudicious, for Protestant parents to entrust Papists with the in- instruction of their children." "How remarkable! Where is the danger, Mrs. Summerville?" "The danger is in the dark; and most imminent danger lies in n t being aware of danger." "I'm not to be deterred from giving my daugh- ter a fashionable education, whatever may be said against Catholic institutions." "But where is either the necessity or advantage of patronizing Roman schools? There are Protes- tant institutions of learning, where the most thor- ough education, and every desirable accomplish- ment may be obtained." "But those academies connected with nunneries, you must be aware, are far superior." "No, I admit it not; that is a sad mistake into which very many Protestants seem to- have fallen. The notion that Catholic teachers and priests are more learned than Protestant teachers and minis- ters,has no foundation in truth. Nor could such an impression ever have obtained, but for the vain boasting of priests, who are, of all men the most egotistical, arrogant and presumptuous. Not only do they claim to have received the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and to possess power to open and shut at pleasure the celestial gates, but also to hold the key of knowledge! If we are to believe them, they only possess true learning; and all edu- cational institutions not under their supervision page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] are wortlness;-nay, more, they are uoaless, aoom- inable,-corrupting and ruinous to youth! Such is the language they hold. The truth is, the Catholic clergy, generally, are far from being educated men." "Not educated men?" "I mean they, are not liberally educated; not men of enlarged minds, nor of profound and varied learning. I say what I know; for such has been my opportunities, I'm prepared to speak advisedly on the subject." "Never before have I heard it disputed, that priests are the greatest scholars in the world." "I'm fully aware that they themselves make such pretensions; and the credulous and illiterate have not been slow to believe them. Many take I for granted whatever is boldly asserted,-especially if oft repeated. That there may be found in the ranks of the priesthood, men of great learning, is by no means doubted; yet unquestionably, for the I most part, both priests and teachers of the Church of Rome, are exceedingly limited in their attain- ments, superficial thinkers, feeble writers, and un- bearable bigots." "Certainly, Mrs. Summerville, you do injustice to Catholics." "I wish not to; and would gladly bestow praise wherein I now blame. Truly would I rejoice to see Popery a blessing, rather than a curse to the world. When I see in that stupendous fabric, a tendency to overshadow, crush and destroy what- ever is unlike itself, I'm constrained to regard it as not from above,-but from beneath." 2, . "Will you award Catholics no honor for their zeal in building up schools and colleges in this country?" "Convince me that the intention of their schools and colleges is to disselninate light, and to confer on juvenile minds a liberal and useful education, and I'm ready to extol them. But disguise it as they may, 'tis a truth no less palpable than the sun, that the chief object is to make Papists, not to un- fold and enlighten the mind, as priests would have us believe." "Mr. Dupee, the priest who daily visits St. Mary's Academy, has repeatedly assured me that no improp- er means were used to influence the minds of the young ladies attending the institution, upon the subject of religion." "Yes, and thus they disarm you, and lull suspi- cion to sleep. Taking advantage of your credulity, and the confidence you repose in them, they stealth. ily lead the confiding mind of your child out of 'the reach of parental influence into a miserable delusion. The errors they inculcate becloud the reason, ener- vate and darken the soul. We need not go beyond the circle of our own acquaintance to find examples of the sad consequences that neit frequently attend the injudicious practice, among Protestants, of placing their children in the hanYds of Papists to be educated. There, for instance, 'was Is'adora Green- wood, I presume you knew her well?" "Yes, perfectly. She was truly an innocent, sweet girl, and possessed an uncommon mind. I was much astonished when I heard she had taken the veil." ',, page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] 50 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. So was her poor mother, who died of a broken heart on account of it. One of the first lessons taught in Catholic schools is secrecy; hence, very improper influences may be used without the knowledge of parents; as -was the case with respect to Isadora, who had been a Catholic two yearse- fore any of her relatives suspected her of being the least tinctured with Romanism. The sundering of connections, separation of friends, and the breaking of the most sacred ties of kindred spirits, are light matters in the estimation of unfeeling priests, who hold it a virtue to remain insensible to all the agonies and wretchedness of the present life." "cc At all events, Mrs. Summerville, I entertain no fears that my daughter Lizzie will ever be tempted to become a nun." "None the further from danger is she, Mrs. Allen, on that account; but rather the less secure; for being at rest upon the subject, you'll be less apt to advise and place her on her guard against the duplicity and wily arts of Jesuitism." "Elizabeth has been too well instructed in Prot- estant religion and Bible doctrines, to have her faith shaken by any artifice they may choose to practice. Besides, she is too fond of fashion and of pleasure to be a nun." "But think of it: constantly surrounded by such influences as Jesuits know how to wield, you can by no means conjecture what impressions may eventually be produced upon her mind. And though she should never become a Catholic, she is certainly in danger of having her mind poisoned, bewildered and led astray by false teaching. Few "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 51 understand what wonderful revolutions may be brought about, by slow degrees, in the human mind; and equally few comprehend the immense influence teachers are able to gain over the minds and hearts of their pupils." While the above dialogue was in progress, a promiscuous and micellaneous conversation was going on in other parts of the room; but gradually the attention of the whole company began to be attracted to the discussion between Mrs. Summer- ville and Mrs. Allen. Miss Flipping, who had heard but little, owing to the perpetual racket of her own tongue, chanced to catch some of the last remarks uttered by Mrs. Summerville, so as to di- vine the subject of conversation; turning suddenly round, she interrupted the talkers, by saying, in a sharp, squealing voice, and on a straining key, that ran through one's head like the filing of a crosscut saw:--"Do say, Mrs. Summerville, are you opposed to the St. Mary's Academy? Well, now, I'm no Catholic, but just think that religion's good as any. And it's mighty unfair to persecute priests, as Mr. Dupee says Protestants persecute him. For my part I see no fault in priest Dupee; and as to St. Mary's Academy, there's no institution in this coun- try equal to it. I've a niece there, who at first had great aversion to being sent to a Catholic school, because she had heardso many hobgoblin stories about nunneries, dismal convents, and the horrible inquisition. Indeed the poor girl was nearly fright- ened out of her wits; but now she's dreadfully pleased. She's placed under the special care of Mr. Dupee, who regularly visits St. Mary's of the page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] 52 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. Woods, to watch over and give religious instruction to the young ladies." Squire Dumont, who had been listening some time in silence, at length grew a little impatient, and ventured, at the risk of giving offense, to fling in his dissent to the helter skelter remarks of Miss Flipping. "But little consideration or forecast," said he, " have the parents or guardians who place innocent, unsuspecting girls under the care of such a man as priest Dupee." "I'll warrant you, Squire, that. young ladies com- mitted to the care of that holy man, will find sure protection and an infallible guide." "As likely would the tender lamb find protection under the vulture's wing, as that young girls may be safe in the hands of such a corrupt and hypocritical Jesuit." "Good gracious! Squire Dumont, how you talk! I thought you claimed to be a free thinker, and, too, a man of no religious partialities." "So I do; but what of that? Anm I therefore to go hoodwinked, and allow the priestly garb to shield villainy? Confessedly am I a sceptic; yet I'm con- strained to admit that Protestant Christianity, whether human or divine in its origin, tends to im- prove our race, benefit humanity, and promote the harmony and happiness of society; and I only wish I could say as much for Romanism. Having by education no religious bias, I feel well assured it cannot be prejudice which leads me to say, that in Popery I've seen evil, and only evil-a spirit that withers, blasts and destroys-everywhere, and al- ways working mischief,-at war with light and op- posed to liberty." "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 53 During these remarks, Miss Flipping sat petrified, and Mrs. Allen looked not a little disconcerted. The latter observed, in a sarcastic tone: ",'jome men, Mr. Dumont, wear magnifying glasses, and in their eyes mole hills become mountains!" "Very true, madam," responded the Squire good-humoredly, ," but does that prove there are no mountains?" "Imust think you prejudiced, Squire Dumont, notwithstanding you claim to be a free-thinker." "Little do I trouble my brain, Mrs. Alien, about theological speculations. The doctrines and creeds of men, with me, are light matters; I'm disposed rather to consider the lives and actions of my fel- low-men. And when I praise or blame, let me do it irrespective of religious peculiarities and com- plexion of faith. 'By their fruits ye shall know them,' is the language of Christ. 'A good tree bringeth not forth evil fruit; neither doth a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit.' This rule of judgment, whether given by inspiration or not, I try to adopt. Less careful am I, therefore, to inquire what men) believe than what they practice. And it is upon this ground that I condemn Romanism-its fruits being evil, the system itself cannot be good." "Come now, Squire," said a little, fat, bustling man, who had been dozing during most part of the preceding conversation, " are we yet to believe all the ghost stories our grandmothers used to frighten us with." "You've certainly been dreaming, Mr. Wimple." replied Dumont, facetiously, " what has your ques- tion to do with the subject of our conversation?" page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] 54 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. ' I want to know, Squire, if you believe the ac- count given of the Inquisition, the St. Bartholemew massacre, and the torturing and killing of heretics, any more than you believe in old wives' fables, haunted houses, witchcraft, or graveyard appari- tions?" "You would then place the superstitious fabri- cations of ignorant and idle brains, on a footing with the most authentic and grave declarations of history." "I listen to such accounts concerning the Catho- lic Church, about as much as I believe the tale of Dr. Johnson's Cock-lane ghost, or ' The thousand and one stories of the Arabian Nights Entertain- ment;' they're welcome to impose on my credulity if they can." "Are we not bound to accredit the united testi- mony of historians?" "I never read history." "It is, then, by no means to be wondered at, that you refuse to believe the record of startling events which happened before you were born. If Catho- lics have been falsely accused of intolerance, per- secution, and putting to death heretics and unbe- lievers, in the Papal countries of Europe, then must it be acknowledged, the annals of the past can in nothing be relied on. We might refer, if neces- sary, even to Catholic authorities. Works of high repute in the Church of Rome may be produced, wherein Popes and their councils are lauded for their zeal in exterminating infidels and heretics, and the most barbarous and sanguinary deeds jus- tified. It is not claimed by any accredited Catholic "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 55 author that the 'Church of Rome ever tolerated freedom of opinion, and the right of private judg- ment in matters of religion; nor is it maintained she ought; but the propriety of putting to death in- corrigible heretics is strenuously insisted on. Out of their own mouths then, and by their own pens, shall we judge and condemn them."' "But the Catholic Church is different now; Pa- pists have become more liberal." "It is the boast of the Roman hierarchy, that their religion is unalterably the same through all time; $ that it is one in spirit, doctrine and practice, in every nation; and that it hath been such, andwill 'be such in every generation. Infallibility with Pa- pists is a cardinal doctrine: if right in that, it of course follows there can be no reform, no improve- ment; and it follows, too, that the Church has never been in error, nor committed a wrong. To be consistent, Romanists must justify all the Church has ever done, and defend the bloody Inquisition, and all the revolting cruelties enacted in the middle ages. If the persecution and slaughter of heretics were right, centuries ago, why not still so? But why refer to the past? Romanism to-day, where- ever it exists, is intolerant, proscriptive and perse- cuting to the extent of its power. What might we not apprehend, should Papists ever become strong enough to control this government? We need no prophet, nor the son of a prophet, to predict the re- sult. To exterminate the opposers of the faith would be but carrying out the principles inculcated by the Church. Those of us who refuse to flatter the pretensions of the hierarchy, and are unwilling page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] 56 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. to submit to priestly rule and dictation, are to be denounced by time-serving demagogues, as unchar- itable, illiberal and vile calumniators!" "I take it, Squire, that all the Churches are a little given to persecution when they have the pow- er; I reckon Catholics are not worse than the rest." "Unquestionably there's too little liberality, and a great want of charity among all sects; yet the Catholic is the only denomination in Christendom, that teaches persecution, and openly avows and defends the principle of religious intolerance. While Protestants condemn, as they do, in them- selves a want of charity, and being betrayed into a spirit of persecution, there's a chance for correcting the evil; but in those who do not acknowledge it wrong, where's the hope of curing it? When men get right in principle they will after a while come right in practice-but seldom without.", 'A while ago you represented the Catholic clergy as opposed to light, and the enemies of edu- cation: if so, why do they make such an ado about their institutions of learning? Mr. Dupee seems as if he would move heaven and earth to have all our Protestant children educated." "But a stroke of policy! Why do they not move heaven and earth to educate the children of Papists? Look at the Catholic masses, how deplorably illit- erate and benighted! What better evidence than this do you want of the insincerity of Popish priests in the great parade about education they are mak- ing of late? We shall find, I imagine, in the out- come, there's more thunder than lightning in their wonderful ado." "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 57 "Notwithstanding all the fullsome praise lavish- ed on Papal schools," observed Mrs. Summerville, "the whole tendency of Catholic institutions is to circumscribe thought, weaken the energies of the mind, and fetter its faculties. But nothing do I look upon as so absurd as the monastic institution, -which aims at the murder of life's joys, and the augmentation of the numberless ills that burden and afflict poor humanity. See how many excellent girls, who might be useful to society, and live hap- pily with their friends, hlve been induced to abjure the world for the gloom fthe cloister, sacrificing all of life's active duti as well as its comforts! And how my heart feels for that sweet, innocent (girl, Josephine Elbridge, whom that despicable CQ an, Dupee, has led into the midnight darkness of Papal superstition! I cannot but esteem him guilty of worse than murder." i MMrs. Allen esieemed her daughter Elizabeth safe at St. Mary's, and her mind in no danger of being led astray; little did she think, simple woman, that her hopeful child was at that very time a novitiate, and preparing for the cloister. page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] Otapne r 6. Bishop Constantine in a fume-Soliloquy-Enter Dupee- Jesuitical plots and stratagems. In an apartment adjoining a cathedral, there sat a morose looking man, habited in black, and ap- parently wrapt in meditations of the same color. He seemed writhing under the weight of some dark, oppressive thought-like Macheth, striving to nerve resolution, and bring his courage to the sticking place. But unlike the king of Scotland, he wanted not a spur to prick the sides of his intent-that evi- dently he already had within his malignant soul, goading him to desperation. His cadaverous face, rigid muscles, contracted brow, with the fiery sparkle, and viper-like glare of his small black eyes, would have brought over you a shudder, and made you think of the midnight assassin, plotting horrid deeds of murder. Now and then a fiendish smile gleamed dismally across his wrinkled visage, as if revelling in imaginary and diabolical triumph over some fallen victim; at length the boiling lava of his fiendish mind began to flow out in vindictive, bitter and terrific words;-thus soliloquizing:-- "Accursed be the day which saw the holy Inqui- sition abolished! and thrice accursed be the infernal (58) "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 59 heretics who conspired its overthrow! A pillar of strength in the Church it stood for centuries-to un- believers and enemies of the faith a terror and a warning. "But alas! alas! the holy tribunal hath fallen, paralyzing the right arm of Papal power, and strik- ing a fell blow at ecclesiastical rule and authority. "Inauspicious day! most inauspicious! Then heaved the Mother Church a sigh, that pierced the heavens, and shook the deep foundations of the earth-while the profane mocked-rebels rejoiced -and hell lifted up a shout. "But there's comfort yet;-that spiritual court, though buried in Europe, looks forward hopefully, to a day of resurrection in America. High Heaven speed the time! and may I live to see it. Yes, may I live to see arrogant Protestantism humbled in the dust, and made to kiss the ground at our feet. May I live to behold the proud tree of American Liberty, scathed by the vengeful lightnings of Rome, and shattered beneath the crashing thunders of the vatican! "Then, let him who dares, denounce our faith or wag his tongue against priest or pope. * * * * * * So fiercely burns my holy indignation, scarce- ly patience have I for policy; yet, policy must I use; -resort to stratagem and study to catch the near- est way. Though I feel daggers, better not speak them.-Show our hand too soon, and the game may go against us. I'll manage to gain in the darkness, what I've lost in the light. Let the ser- pent coil under the innocent flower--I'll smile though my heart be filled with the bitterest hate, page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] 60 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. A Jesuit must frame his face to all occasions,-and if need be, wheedle with the devil." He was here interrupted by the entrance of priest Dupee; who, pausing at the threshold, gazed a mo- ment with astonishment at'the Bishop, whom he had overheard, as he approached. Constantine observing him, exclaimed: "Ah, Rev. Dupee!- happy to meet you once more!" at the same time advancing, warmly grasped his visitor by the hand. Upon which Dupee said: "To whom, in all this world, Bishop, were you just now so vehemently discoursing? I find you entirely alone." "Did you certainly hear me, reverend sir?" "Hear you?" responded the priest, " upon my word you were raving. "So lost in my thoughts!" "Not conscious of speaking audibly?" "By no means was I." "Something, I dare say, quite unusual has oc- curred to disturb your wonted equanimity." "Indeed, sir, my Christian patience hath been se- verely tried of late, and almost at my wits end am I for expedients. "A Jesuit despond?" "No, no;-mistake me not;-too well have I been baptized into the spirit of Jesuitism, not to know that patience and perseverance are requisite to success; nay, indispensable, to the carrying out of our deep laid schemes and far reaching plans." "Thereby the order has amazed the world, and achieved seeming impossibilities." "Revolutionized governments, subverted empires, dethroned kings." "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 61 "Yet, in the meantime, kept themselves so far in the back-ground as to escape observation and re- main unsuspected." "Then putting on looks of innocence, they come in to gather the spoils;-let such be our policy." "But again to the point:--Still am I curious to know, Bishop, what has lately occurred to produce this terrible ebullition in your saintly mind." "More than a single circumstance;- nay, many conspire to exasperate me." "'Tis but what we may look for, sometimes to be thwarted in our Godly intentions." "Believe me, there's a clandestine combination against us in this city;-vigilant and jealous eyes are upon our manceuvres, watching every move- ment and seeking to unveil the covert designs and hidden schemes of the hierarchy." "No doubt; no doubt ;-look we then to it, that our schemes be not disconcerted, nor our aims de- feated." "Only by plots and stratagems, can' we hope to succeed against such odds. To overturn the stupendous fabric of heresy, our fulcrum and lever must be laid in the dark." "Right; you are right." "Protestantism is a tree whose roots have struck deeply, and whose branches extend afar, sheltering heresy and protecting heretics. 'Tis a baneful Upas, throwing a deadly shadow on the Church; caus- ing her. venerable walls to moulder and her conse- crated altars to crumble." "Let the axe be laid at the root of the tree." "Yes, let it be felled, and that it sprout no more page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] every fibre snould be eradicated from the earth it encumbers, and cast into the fire, root and branch." "To be consumed by the fierceness of Almighty wrath." "It may cost blood." . "What of that?" "Ne'er let a Jesuit falter, tremble, norturnpale at the thought of blood, while the Church suffers reproach and is impeded in her progress." "Never." "What God abhors, it becomes our holy order to djest and oppose." "By all means." "The enemies of the faith, and the adversaries of the Sovereign Pontiff must be overthrown." "Yes, must be." "And are we not oath-bound, as is every other Jesuit, to persecute and destroy heretics?" "Remember, too, we owe no allegiance to this Republic, nor is it our duty to keep faith with unbelievers." "True-and being Jesuits, we must ever stand obsequious to the will and mandates of his Holi- ness, the Pope; rendering obedience in thought, word and deed-for we are but instruments in his hand, to be wielded at his pleasure-to pierce the heart of Protestantism in every land. Jesuitism is a sword, whose hilt is in Rome, and whose blade is over all the earth." "Verily, 'tis to pass over the wide, wide world; cutting down whatsoever exalteth itself against the Church of Rome." "But further explain, Bishop-have your designs in any important affair of late, been frustrated?" C...,!"IzV..n IWmHT. 63 Yes, I've been sadly balked-and in a plot I had calculated much on. All my wire-working for a twelve month has been at once overset; and just when I thought it complete, and brought to a focus." "Villainous!" "A villain it was--a' meddlesome Protestant vil- lain that defeated me. Perdition catch his soul!" "In what, pray, did he defeat you?" "In an affair I once told you of-a lady of wealth -a maiden lady, whose mind I had wrought upon until she felt it her duty to renounce the world and become a recluse. She was about making over to the Church a large portion of her ample estate, preparatory to taking the monastic vows, when, as the malice of the devil would have it, a flippant, fascinating, handsome young fellow, chanced to make her acquaintance. Suddenly she changed her mind, and this very day was married." Sacriligious!" "May Heaven plant thorns in her bridal-bed, id make her life more wretched than she hopes to nder it happy." "Let her days be spent in sorrow, and her nights anguish. -* * . 'Tis well, Bishop, thou hast plentiful supply of grace and fortitude." "Yes, 'tis well." : I too, have met with sore vexations.' Pray, let me hear." "Tis not yet certain Josephine Elbridge will e the veil." 'After all the trouble, think you that affair will n out a failure'?" page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] "I fear it." "Wherefore?" "She loves Charles Clinton more than she loves her soul's salvation." "Is there no remedy for that? no drop of gall for the wine cup of her love?" "I have tried the bitterest gall and the worm- wood." ' And no effect had it?" "It wrung her heart and made her weep." "And will she drink it still?" "Still she drains the cup." "Keep pouring in the gall. Her marriage at all hazards prevent. Poison the very fountain of her affections. If that wont do, drive her to madness. A handsome estate at stake, remember." "True."' "Worth figuring for." "So I think." "Anoint your tongue with oil ;-move slily;- tread the ground softly, that it prate not of your whereabouts" "That will I.-But sure there's danger in that Charles Clinton;-the fact is, the fellow is desperate." "No matter;-let him get desperate and tear his hair if he will." "He might tear mine." ' Hass he reprobate at any time menaced you?" "But yesterday it was, he encountered me on the street, with wild, fiery, flashing eyes." "Provoking impudence!-But flashed he nothing more than his eyes at you? That being all, your life was in no great danger." "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 65 "But such a look, the devil could scarce have put on." "Said he nothing?, "Silent he stood;--yet plainly saw I lurking in his mind some foul intention." "And like Falstaff, I imagine you considered discretion the better part of valor." "Seeing him lift his cane-and, as I conceived, with hostile intent"- You prudently declined further controversy." "Yes, turned my back upon the wretch--qite disgusted with his daring effrontery.' "What did he then ?" "I tarried not to see;-thought it better not to; -and for once my slender legs did me good service." "That was well." "Not so very well as it turned out. A pack of hell-hatched boys cried 'catch the thief.' That set a gang of watchmen after me. ' Prodigious! And you outran them." "No;-the hounds caught me." "Hounds? Holy Virgin ! set dogs upon you ?" Human hounds, I mean." "yes, Protestant dogs ?" "No;-Irish Catholics." "Knowing not you were a priest.' "Not till they had well nigh torn me to pieces and rent my garments to tatters. A pretty scare- crow appearance too I made." "So roughly did the rascals handle you ?" "Like a buffalo in a snare I struggled to get free, making sure 'twas the blood-thirsty Clinton who, page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] " LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. following in my wake, had overtaken me. But for the length of my coat-tail, they had ne'er laid hands on me. Two robust fellows, rivals in speed, coming up in my rear, like all possessed, seized my out-spread skirts, and bringing me to a sudden halt-split my coat to the collar-threw me headlong, almost dashing my brains out against the rough pavement." "Monstrous!-I marvel not that your righteous soul was vexed. Did Charles Clinton come up in the meantime?" "He did;-laughing and jeering as though it were rare sport to him." "Such, no doubt, he considered it." "A thousand curses on his soul." "In hell he'll roast for it." "That's one comfort." "True ;-and by the way, friend Dupee, let us comfort ourselves a little over a bottle of cham- paigne;-come, 'tis a choice article." Saying which, he filled a silver goblet with deep colored wine. "I doubt it not," responded Dupee, "there's a sparkle in its eye that pleases me well." "The luxuries of life, you're aware, though corrupting to the laity, have no injurious effects on the clergy." "And being a privileged class, 'tis but right we look out for the blessings of earth, as well as the beatitudes of heaven." "Keep we an eye, Bishop, to both worlds." "So say I; and make sure, at least of the present." X apter 7. V The entrapped politician--Mr. Slick gets Peter Twist into a pucker. The Jesuit was by no means wide of the mark be bought. Apolitical aspirant of this class, who was constantly in market, and had more than once been bought and sold, I here propose introducing to the reader :- is name was Peter Twist. By the way, there must be something in a name; but whether it were possible for Peter to have been a man of upright intentions and go by the name of Twist, I shall not attempt to decide, having quite a different object in view in bringing him at this time before the public eye. Though an unpolished and coarse-minded man, Peter Twist was by no means an unsuccessful demagogue; unscrupulous and time-serving, he never hesitated to sacrifice principle to party pur- poses; and to gain the most trivial ends, readily lent himself to the basest schemes. A professed Protestant, he yet took sides with the Priest party, -was the apologist for Papal intolerance, and zealously advocated the extravagant pretensions of the hierarchy; eulogized Romish institutions; boasted of Jesuit schools and lauded the Papal (67) page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] 68 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. clergy as the most learned, wise and holy men upon earth. When accused of double-dealing and of playing the sycophant, he would then very spe- ciously plead liberality and lay claim to an eminent degree of Christian charity; sternly deny, of course, favoring the order of Jesuits, or being at all tinctured with Romanism:---but charity, Chris- tian charity, he averred, led' him to respect the faith of Catholics as well as Protestants. Peter Twist, being a candidate for office, one day made it convenient to call upon Squire Dumont, whose vote he was not altogether sure of: -when, after sundry remarks, the following con- versation occurred: "As I was saying, Squire, in the political arena we must, by all means, lose sight of religious opinions and Church dogmas." "That should depend, Mr. Twist," returned Squire Dumont, "on the nature of tiose opinions and dogmas ;-if anti-republican, ard at war with our free institutions, down with the political aspir- ants who give them countenance." "Have charity, Squire, have charity," responded the politician with a patronizing air. "Yet let not charity go hood-winked," said Dumont, a little impatiently. "I'm one," continued Twist, with a tone of im- portance, " to stand up for Papists, so long as they are persecuted." "Yes, yes, we are cruel persecutors of poor Papists, because forsooth we disallow them to put their feet on our necks." "Will you undertake to say, Ro anists are in- sincere in their belief?" "GHT, AMORE LIGHT. 69 "Sincere, they may be;-all the worse fr that." "How worse?" "They more certainly aim at carrying out their blind faith." "Blind faith! then it must be harmless at least." "The blinder, the more ferocious. Cast me into a den of lions, rather than deliver me over to the mercy of religious fanatics. The history of the Church of Rome has been written in blood." "But not in this country, Squire." " reu ie, qire prejudice "In not- t "No, for they dare not attempt in this republic to enforce the proscriptive spirit of Popery. Yet the Church is now, what it ever has been, intoleran and inquisitorial to the extent of is power. 'Tis as spreading gloom and decay wherever it finds a resting-place On the face of the globe." "Shall we blame Papists in this country for what their brethren d id in other lands and other times?" "N'o no, for that we blame them not, but rather forjustifying their monstrous deeds in other lands and other times. By that justification, they sanc- tion the principle of religious persecution, and vir- tually say, they would here, and' now, enact like sanguinary tragedies if they dared." "Prejudice, Squire, prejudice. I'm not one of your gullable sort." "'Tis no misrepresentation, no exaggeration, - Catholicity is everywhere a kblight and a mildew upon the earth;-a plague-spot upon the bosom of Christendoma gigantic system of pious fraud, which has wrapt hole nations in the thick dark-- ness of barbarism, and crushed the hearts and page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] 70 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. hopes of millions. And your political friend, priest Dupee, and all other Jesuits, are secret agents, whose business it is to work in the dark and forge chains for the mind." "What wholesale denunciation against the so- ciety of Jesus!" "Rather of Judas! for they are traitors to God, and the enemies of mankind. To serve the Roman Pontiff, they'd blot out the sun and en- slave the world." "What know you of priest Dupee, whom you call my political friend?" "Rest assured, nothing good." "Then, what of evil?" "He's a prodigy of iniquity; full of treachery, deceit and all manner of baseness; more fit for the gallows than the pulpit." "Pray, what great crime hath he committed? -murdered any one?" "Worse than murdered!-under color of giving pious counsel, he has deluded and led astray many youthful minds; separated the best of friends and kindled between them undying animosities. A greater villain than he lives not." "Mistake me not, Squire; for Priests I've no par- tialities,-only wish to be charitable." "I comprehend you, Mr. Twist, and see clear to the bottom of your motives." "Clear to the bottom of my motives! Sharp sighted, I take it." "I have had some practice looking at small ob- jects, especially small men." "Doubtless, Squire; and in your time have seen some small potatoes?" * t LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. "Yes, in the shape of politicians", He rnin ow, then, good sir, since you're so very discerning, suppose you undertake to divine my -No difficult task, I imagine." tives, and that right plainly."' "Go on, go on, both my ears are open." "The short of the matter is, you want office; and little care where the votes come from that may se- cure your election."* "Is that wrong?" "I can hardly say it's right, yet I know tis com- mon." "Would you, if a candidate, be unwilling to re- ceive Catholic votes?" I'd certainly scorn to purchase theml by becom- ing an apologist for the crimes of the clergy, and abetting in the despotic aims of a corrupt, ambi tious and intriguing hierarchy."t, a "Mean you to accuse me of double-dealing', Call it what you will, Mr. Twist." That's palatable; but come Squire, there need be no difference between us. I'm sure, after all, you'll vote for me, when it comes to the test. Did you but know y private sentiments you'd find we're not so far apart." you' "I'm to understand, then, Mr. Twist, you deem it i dietyoueen inexpedients" openly to avow your real senti. ments?', page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] "Well, you know, Squire, we politicians have to "A little rascally." "No, no, not exactly rascally-but you know-" "' Yes, I know, and well know, that political as- pirants for the most part, play any game for office, and for the sake of promoting party purposes." At this juncture entered Mr. Slick,-an intimate acquaintance of the parties engaged in the above conversation; quite an eccentric character,-re- markable alike for his sparkling wit and great good humor; he was fond of a joke, and liked to get a fellow into a tight place-especially one whom he felt a little antipathy towards. Having no partialities for Mr. Twist, and by chance being acquainted with a trick of deception and political wire-working, of which the office-seeker was guilty, he seized upon the opportunity of exposing his dis- honesty. With a twinkle in his eye, and affecting an interest he by no means felt, thus he accosted the candidate: "My worthy friend, Peter Twist!" at the same time taking him heartily by the hand. ' Ah! Mr. Slick," said the politician, "I'm truly glad to see you." "'Round electioneering still?" "A little, to keep up with the fashion of the times." "The battle, as I learn, goes bravely on!" "The combat deepens." When Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug of war." Now looking inquisitively into Slick's face, the candidate remarked: "I'm hardly deceived, I trust, "GHTT, MORE LIGHT. Mr. Slick, in counting you among my fiends in this Contest?" "Rely upon me, sir," said his pretended friend, putting on a more serious air, and casting a know- ing look at Squire Dumont. "To confess the truth," he added, "I'm playing the Jesuit a little to your advantage. All things, I hold, honorable "Right! Give me your hand on that, my fine fel- low. We'll lick them so bad they'll hardly know themselves after election day! And if these tarnal Know Nothings know each other, then take me for a fool. "They'll be blowed sky high!" "Won't they be Know Nothings then, and no mistake?"' "We'll see what we'll see." "What think you about the Catholic vote?" "Yours, beyond a doubt." "So much for Papists! Their votes, you now, ount fast as any." yo ow, "That well-timed letter you wrote priest Dupee id the thing." "Ah! you've heard something," replied Twist, ,oking somewhat alarmed. "A verdant piestling," said Slick, in a signifm nt tone, " on whom I passed myself foi a Jesuit owed me the document t, Ah! a letter to riest Duee!" exclaimed Sq amont, interrupting the colloquy, Which Twist tended not should be overheard in all its particu- s; ".no marvel," continued the Squire oiticians are things to be bought d, tastly, t , ,c oougnr and sold." page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] "GHT, MORE LIGHT. Mean you, Squire Dumont," said Twist, an- grily, "to insinuate aught against my honor? t might cost you dearly." , When honor grows scarce" returned D nt, ," its cost should be dear. I'd lie;' continued he, " to see the letter alluded to i" ,I chance to have it in my possession, Squire" ' said Slick, at the s'ame time producing the document. ^eftrapped, the politician now Discovering himself entrapp, e politicia kindled to a fearful rage, and exclaimed with great em A forgery, a base forgery " ,In your own hand writing, Mr. Twist' coolly responded Slick, "cfamiliar as you r face. d the , Tiaitor villain truthless knave " cie the Traitord - "What kind of game's this infuriated maan. capable of you're playing? I little thought you capa such treachery" ctioned ," But a moment since, dear sir, you sanctioned the maximn, that 'all things were honorable in war;' if I practice deception, who taught it me?" ,Not I, byi Heaven! And little need have you being taught you'veh a lere , son "inold a moment " interrupted the Squire, "ell the letter; then make c olo ns" mont at once proceeded to read as follows- 'M. DuIPEE, T2N. \AND vERY DEAR Sm:- 'You need no further assurance from me than whatt you've already had,-that I'm your fast friend; and the ever constant and devoted friend friend; and e Church. Nor is Y and defender of the only true Church. Nor is i aneessary to re-assure you, that I hold in highes estimation the holy Order of Jesuits.' "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 75 "A lie! a lie!" exclaimed Twist, breaking in upon the reading. "Never wrote it-not I, by my soul! But a device of the devil to defeat my election." "Wait a little, Mr. Twist," insisted the Squire, "hear it all." "I won't! I swear I won't! But a scheme hatched in hell to ruin my reputation!" at the same time making toward the door. But Slick was by no means inclined to let him off so easily: seizing the disconcerted candidate, by the coat tail, he brought him to a sudden halt; saying in a comi- cal tone, "Peter Twist, get not, I pray you, into a pucker." "I bid you let go!" "Read Squire-loud and plain,-I'll hold him to it," said Slick, bracing himself, while Twist raved and pitched like a madman, to tear himself away. The Squire again read: 'Devoutly could I wish myself worthy a place in the holy Catholic Church.' "Presume to detain me against my will!" again interrupted the exasperated demagogue. "The document grows pathetic," remarked Du- mont, facetiously, "why in such a snarl, Mr. Twist?" "Twist or untwist," observed Slick, "he must hear read what he had the conscience to write." "I'll twist your neck, you reprobate," retorted the other. "Turn round here, like a man, and face the music." "'Tis beyond endurance." "Read, Squire." Dumont proceeded:-' I trust that my long and page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] "GHT, MORE LGHT. fathfnl devotion to your interests will not be for- gotten in the day of my extrem it y g .patheticer! and patheticer. provoingl e claimed Slick, while his unhappy victim was still vainly suggli ngto getfree The Squie continued to read:-' If the Catholic vote be for me, my elec tion'.ssure--not without. 'Tis, reverend sir, for you to say whether that vote shall be cast for, or against me. Confident am I, youll turn the scale against my favor. Your most humble servant, tin my favor. PPrErT TWIST.' Was ever a man so persecuted,' ejaculatedthe confused and entrapped politician, as he hastily left the magistrate's offite. "You got the fellow into a twist quite slick" remarked the Squire, laughing heartily. "I like to entrap suc two-faced demagogues, replied Slick, well pleased with his success. "'Twas well done; a great set of scamps they are." Josephine Elbridge takes the veil-Her interview with Isa- dora Greenwood-The unchristianlike rebuke administer- ed by the Abbess. THE time had come when that pall of breathing death, the nun's sable veil, was to fall between Josephine and the world. The incubus of Papal superstition, with its fell power, had benumbed and crushed every faculty, till her soul was ready to surrender all the enticements of earth, for the gloom of the cloister. 'Twas a scene never to be forgotten,--and one calculated alike to awaken the tenderest sympa- thies of the heart, and arouse all the burning indig- nation of the soul! Meekly kneeling at the feet of the robed priest, she took the irrevocable vows that impose a life of poverty, celibacy, seclusion and penance. Josephine never looked more lovely than at that hour. There was a sweet pensiveness in her expression; yet a death-like paleness over- spread her delicate features; black and glossy as the raven's plume, was her flowing hair,-which gracefully fell upon her slender shoulders, and hung in unbraided ringlets about her fair temples. With deep emotion swelled her gentle bosom; and the angelic creature seemed struggling like a martyr at the stake for resignation to her fate. (77) page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 78 When the awful vows had passed her innocent lips, Dupee, the ministering priest, in a doleful voice, said: 'Hetven requires sacrifice. Long hair is a vain ornament, and only serves to ose- pride." Then blessing the sacred scissors, he plac- ed them in the hand of the Abbess, commanding her to remiov from Josephine's head, nature's un- sanctified covering, as he impiously trmed it, that she might henceforth wear a saintly one. Obedi- ently the Superior inserted the cruel steel into the ebon locks of the kneeling beauty; nor did she cease to despoil, until the head was made bare, and the last ringlet snatched from the sinless brow of their mutilated victim. Now, with an air of piety, the priest thus addressed the candidate for the cloister: "As thy head hath been shorn so may thy heart be disrobed of pride, and stripped of every earthly tie and fond affection! Thus only can'st thou be qualified to live a saint, and escape the defilements of this godless world." A black cap being put on her headby the Abess, Josephine was now lifted from her knees and laid in a coffin; which was for a few moments closed upon her; sprinkled with holy water,--then pened, and the livipg corpse resurrected. This ceremony, she was told, was emblematic of her spiritual death to the world, which she had so lately abjured under the most weighty vows. A black veil was now flung over the head of the initiated, which dropped flung over the heathis done? she down in friont in the form of a cross; this done she was led by the Abbess to the cloister ,-which was a part of the Convent she had not before been per mitted to enter. It consisted of a desolate lookin mieted to W riter# "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 79 hall, cut up into small and badly ventilated apart- ments. Conducted into one of these little rooms, Josephine was instructed by the Superior, in a new mode of penance; then left to her meditations. Not long had the unhappy Josephine sat alone, oppressed with feelings of repining and desolation, when a spirit-like form softly entered her little apartment, wearing a melancholy smile; while her large, expressive eyes beamed with a luster that savored less of earth than heaven: it was Isadora Greenwood. Although strangers to each other, there kindled at once in the bosom of each, a ten- der, melting sympathy, which caused them to em- brace with all the warmth of sisters whom distance had long separated. When Isadora announced her name, Josephine at once remembered having heard Charles Clinton oft speak of her. Each other's history was briefly related; feelingly they conversed upon the past, and oft mentioned the name of Charles. After some time, dwelling on events with which they were equally familiar, Josephine observed, You look pale, Isadora, and careworn." "Well I might, sister," responded the other, "the only wonder is, that I've borne so much, and still survive." "How long since you took the veil?" "Almost two years; and each day has seemed a year." "So tardily passes the time?" "'Tis a monotonous existence; time drags h6av- ily along." ." You quite discourage me, Isadora; how shall page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] I, who have but just entered the cloister, hope to become reconciled, as Father Dupee assured me I eventually would, when I find you still, after the discipline of two years, discontent, restless and unhappy?" "Far be it from me, dear one, to dishearten you; gladly would I throw sunshine rather than shad- ows upon thy desolate heart. But 'tis needless to deceive you, Josephine.-a soul like thine will not, can not patiently endure chains and imprison- ment. 'Tis not in thy nature to be reconciled to the cloister, strive as thou mayest to tear from thy warm heart all that's loving and lovely." Saying which she turned a look of kindly sympa-, thy upon Josephine, gazing abstractedly upon her dimpled cheek, which had not yet entirely lost its glow. "Why so earnestly dost thou peruse my face, sister Isadora?" inquired Josephine, affectionately. "I was but calling to mind, sweet girl, the day when the rose-tint decorated my own cheek as now it does yours; and thinking--alas, 'tis a gloomy thought-how soon thine will fade as mine." "The blighting effects you have here experien- ced, I can scarcely hope to escape-perhaps I should not; for if it prove beneficial to the soul, and save me from the intolerable flames of purga- tory, let beauty decay and health be wasted. The unhappier we make ourselves in the present world, the better will we be off in the next.' "So priests teach us, I'm aware; but to believe them, I find it at least difficult. Yet could I be satisfied of its truth, I might certainly promise my- 4" (LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. 81 self no little comfort in the world to come; for in this I've had sufficient discomfort. When as a to- ken of my renunciation of all sublunary things, I received the black veil, little did I imagine how typical it would prove of the complexion of my fate, and the thick darkness that should ever after veil my poor heart and wretched life." "If unresigned to our lot, Isadora, what shall it avail us to be here?" "Naught, naught can it avail." "Should we not seek to overcome such a spirit of discontent?" "My heart bears me witness that I've faithfully striven to subdue the perversity of my nature, and unrepiningly given myself to voluntary suffering; but as well may I seek to change the structure of my body, or the color of my eyes; 'tis impossible. When a novitiate, I thought I'd always love the Convent; I then had privileges now denied me, and was kindly treated. The Father Confessor assured me I would find it such a charming and happy life to be a recluse. By no means have I realized my anticipations; and things strangely changed soon as I'd taken the veil. No more do I receive the kindly attentions of the Superior and the Sisters of Charity; indeed I'm quite neglected now, and treat- ed with cold indifference.' "Isadora, I fear there's impiety in such thoughts." "If so, then am I impious. But let not, I pray you, my wicked, wandering thoughts lead thy pure mind astray." ":Father Dupee has oft admonished me, to blot from my' mind every enticing remembrance that page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] 82 . LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. tends to lead thought or affection beyond the sphere which the Church has assigned me. Yet'tis hard, I know 'tis hard to prevent the mind's return to scenes once enjoyed,-objects once loved." "Why deceive ourselves, Josephine? The objects from which we try to imagine ourselves divorced, are yet loved, yet cherished, yet dear . * * * s It may be unpardonable, Josephine, and for aught I know you'll esteem me a vile heretic; but for my life I cannot help thinking that there are many er- rors, monstrous errors, which have crept into the Mother Church; notwithstanding we are taught the doctrine of infallibility. Even Protestantism, which priests tell us is damnable heresy, in my humble estimation, is superior in many of its fea- tures, to Catholicism." "You startle me, Isadora." "Let me tell you wherein I incline to give Protestant religion the preference: Catholicity checks the generous and noble impulses of the soul, and interdicts the highest and purest pleas- ures which the benevolent Creator has been pleas- ed to confer upon mankind. Protestantism, on the contrary, forbids no rational enjoyment; seeks not to curtail human happiness, nor lessen the sum of good, but cherishes all that's elevating to human nature, and regards as sacred every tender kindred tie and affection that bind human hearts together: fostering an expansive benevolence, and all the noble and lofty sentiments that unfold within the- breast of mortals." The Lady Superior having stealthily approached the threshold, overheard the last remarks of "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 83 Isadora. Abruptly entering the room, she said angrily: "Ah, turning Protestant,-about to re- nounce the faith and become a heretic! How can you presume, in this consecrated place of devotion, to breathe sentiments so profane,-to utter words fraught with such deadly poison? I marvel that God in his anger does not smite you down! Think of it: were you in Rome, and dared to utter such things, thy life would pay the penalty-and that by slow torture upon the rack or amid blazing fagots!" "Much reason then have I to be thankful that I live in a land of greater freedom, where such horrid cruelties are not tolerated." "Better, far better were it for your poor soul if less religious toleration existed in this country." "An inhuman, fiendish monster, only, could in- flict the tortures of which yoa speak." 'Tis done but in kindness, and for the love of the soul." "Deliver me from the embrace of such love; scarcely could savage barbarity equal it."' "Millions, no doubt, now in heaven, bless the flames kindled by holy inquisitors as the means of their salvation. For the fires that consumed their bodies, conquered the infidelity of their hearts. All good Catholics pray that the time may speedily come when the Church will have power to estab- lish the holy Inquisition in America." "Heaven forbid that I should live to see that day." "Well may such heretics as you say so, who de- serve the flames." page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] 84 LIGomT, MORE LIGrrT. "Judge not too harshy, worthy Superior." "Already have you been pronounced incorrigible, both by father Dupee and Bishop Constantine.' "Little am I troubled about that. I've some times thought if priests could have a world made to order for the dwelling place of saints, it would be a sad world indeed-utterly comfortless, wrap- ped in darkness and overgrown with thorns. Yet for themselves they'd provide sunshine -flowery vales and every possible luxury.' Shocked at the daring impiety of Isadora, the Superior now hastened in disgust from the apart- ment, ejaculating, as she went, to the Virgin Mary. / ! / C;aptnr 9. Fannie Brown's adventure-Josephine receives the mysteri- ous letter, and hastens with astonishment to Isadora. BY this time the reader may be curious to know something of the fate of Charles Clinton's letter to Josephine Elbridge. Fannie Brown, of whom mention has been made in a preceding chapter, undertook the project of secretly conveying the missive to his adored Josephine. So many vigil- ant eyes, however, at, the Convent were upon the poor girl, that it was found impossible to gain ac- cess to her. But Fannie was not easily discour- aged; and having a natural fondness for anything adventurous or romantic, she determined, notwith- standing repeated failures, to persist in her efforts. After Josephine entered the cloister, she was less closely watched than before, being then esteemed secure. One day Fannie having made an excuse to visit the school department, took an opportunity of reconnoitering, by carelessly promenading about the premises. Josephine chanced to be sitting by her little window, which opened on the back grounds of the Convent: catching a glimpse of her face, Fannie at once recognized her; and to herself ex- ultingly said: "Ah, I've found the lost jewel; suc- cess is mine at last. Now I'll put on the appear- (85) page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] ance oI going away; men some wetre coIncetal mlly self till night comes on, and darkness thickens suf- ficiently to shield me from observation." A stately locust tree stood directly opposite Jo- sephine's window, extending one of its strong branches in the direction thereof, till it came al- most in contact with the building. The apart- ment being in an upper story, the only possible way of gaining access to it, without being discovered, was to ascend the tree already mentioned. When the light of day had sufficiently faded from the sky, Fannie Brown might have been seen standing at the foot of the umbrageous locust, which shaded Josephine's cloister window, survey- ing with upturned eyes the lofty tree. But hesitat- ing not to attempt the bold project, and reckless of consequences, she doffed her bonnet, and like a wildcat began to climb; silk and lace fared badly in the ascent, yet but little retarded, the progress of the active, intrepid girl. Reaching the project- ing limb that swept the window. which luckily stood open, she crept softly along it till near enough to throw the missive into the nun's apartment. By the mellow light of the evening star, which hung like a lamp in the western sky, Fannie perceived Josephine bowing before a crucifix, crossing herself, and counting her beads. Taking advantage of the worshipper's position, she flung the letter, so that it fell immediately at the foot of the crucifix. Quickly snatching it up, and filled with wonder and surprise, Josephine cut short her orisons, and springing to her feet, hastily looked about the room, then out of her window; but seeing no one, her as- ,e tonishment was increased, and she dashedaway to inform Isadora, her only confidant, of what had happened. s ./ Delighted with her success, Fannie stealthily descended, and through the gloom of night,i repaired homeward. With san air of amazemen and confusion, Jo- sephine, with the mysterious letter in her hand, en- tered Isadora's apartment. Beforetheformer had sufficiently regained the power of utterence, the latter said: "What, Josephine you tredble and look pale.. whic I was devoutly neeling. saw o oe; eard no one; am confident no one was hear." Tis very strange!" '"My name is written upon it, and in the hand Lervously tore off the envelope, and unfolding the whict alost dconutly banfin g tosas . the; 3tter, began eagerly to peruse it. "Pray let me hear it, Josephine; please read loud," remarked Isadora; and with trembling in- )nations, she uroceeded to read, as follows: MY DEAREST AND LONG LOST JOSEPHNE:- Whether your eye will ever light upon the frail ords, now being traced by this trembling hand, I Low not: yet faintly hoping Heaven may favor Y wishes, I'll here write the burniing thoughts, it almost consume my brain to ashes. page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] 88 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. "Alas, fair one, the idol of my heart, the adored angel of my first love-my only love; what madness hath seized you? what terrible infatuation come over thy glorious mind, to bewilder and delude thee thus? * '* * A rare flower, I esteemed thee, blooming to bless my existence, and to be cherished by my own hand; but ere I was aware, a fiend plucked the opening blossom. 'Tis strange, 'tis passing strange, that one so pure, so guileless, so true hearted as I thought thee, should prove-I dare not say false-no, I will not; for thy spirit I know is spotless as ere was the new fallen snow-and stain- less as the purple light of heaven! By the false- hearted, hast thou been led into a dark and dreary path: a false religion beclouds thy once serene sky. I'll blame thee not, but deplore thy blindness! 0 think of it, deluded one: life's dewy morn, in all its balmy freshness, is but just opening upon you, and the sweet flowers of pleasure and delight are only waiting to spring up at thy feet and unfold their beauty and fragrance. Why, O, why will you despise, and turn away from all that would charm and give zest to life? Is the springtime of existence too long, and hath the gloom of its winter a higher attraction that you make haste to assume the habil- iments of age, and shut out from your youthful vis- ion life's brightest sunshine? Is youth a crime, and beauty a sin? Why then seekest thou blight- ing and decay? Think not to please God by being sorrowful and sad-look around thee on the glories and harmonies of creation! Is there not beauty for the eye; music for the ear; and countless charm- ing objects to regale the senses? Has Heaven inten- "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 89 ded but to tempt and tantalize us, by placing ele- melits of happiness, and the means of pleasure with- in our reach? But why do I urge you to reason? the religion taught you by the priesthood proscribes the rational powers, and repudiates'the dictates of the human understanding. You can scarcely fail to see, that when the use of reason is interdicted, all argu- ment is at an end, and the most palpable truth of no avail. * * * * That you've quite forgotten me, why shall I doubt? I forgive you all but this-you thought not to say farewell. My fervent wishes are, that you may be happy. CHARLES CLINTON." : The mysterious manner of its coming," said Josephine, manifesting deep emotion, "bewilders "'Tis a miracle!' "Truly is it unaccountable.' remarked Isado- ra, with a look and tone of earnestness. "Charles loves me still," said Josephine, half so- liloquizing, and seeming lost for a moment in her thoughts; "yet I see not," added she, "how he can." "And still Josephine loves Charles;" responded Isadora. "Josephine," she continued, " lived there one whom I loved, as you love Charles, and who loved me as Charles loves you, I'd risk perdition for his sake!" "Is this reality, or but a dream?" said the bewil- dered girl, at the same time sinking into the arms of Isadora. "'Tis marvelous as a dream," replied the latter while she tenderly supported her swooning com- panion. 8 page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] Il4iaptr ic. The genteel spree-Ennui-Bad examples-The results of improper associations. To the-troubled heart, the oppressed and tortur- ed mind, there lies a powerful temptation in the wine-cup. From gloomy depression and the chaf- ing effects of adversity's waves that painfully beat against the keen sensibilities of the feeling soul, it offers temporary relief. "When Charles Clinton learned that Josephine had really taken the monastic vows, he gave way to a feeling of despondency and recklessness h had never before experienced. Though unaccus- tomed to strong drink, he sought in the intoxicat- ing draught, a short-lived exhilaration, which raised his depressed spirits above the leaden clouds that had shut out from his heart the sunshine of hope. Some account of Clinton's dissipated habits, and the pernicious influences and bad examples by which he was soon surrounded, it may not be out of the way, nor unprofitable, here to give. + X * * * * * . * Well, well! this is a dull, monotonous world at best-at least it seems such to me," said Charles, soliloquizingly; at the same time tossing aside a book, with which he had been trying in vain to (90) "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 9 amuse himself; there's no use," continued he, "in sitting here all day like a moping owl; I'll take a stroll down town and see whether I can't, by some sort of means, shake off this horrid ennui." Saying which, he arose, sauntered out upon the street,-and directly met a company of idle youn menr, on whose hands time seemed to hang as heavily as upon his own. "Which way, Mr. Clinton?" familiarly enquired one of their number. "I'm trying," replied Charles, "to run away from the blue devils, heavy thoughts and dull hours." "We are Just the men to sympathize with you in that distress. These blue-devils you talk of, have been hard after us all day; and our captain here, Mr. Tumble, proposes to halt at Wring-necle alley, and there fire a broad-side upon the'foe!" "In the shape of brandy-slings, mintjuleps gin- cocktails, etc., I imagine?" returned Charles, good humoredly. ' That's the kind of artillery, and no mistake!" said the captain. '"Come now, Mr. Clinton, fall into ranks with- ps, and we'll route the enemy, horse, foot and dragoons!" "Yes, join us in our stroll," insisted another, "for we all have a little touch of the dumps to-day." "Upon one condition," remarked Charles, half- facetiously and half in earnest, "I'll go along., "Ah, what now is that?" answered Captain Tumble, "I'm sure we'll all be ready to comply with any condition for the sake of your excellent company." page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] "It is that we retreat to a more respectable paint than Wring-neck alley, before facing about." "All agreed! What say you boys?" said one. Well content!" exclaimed another, "Since we are gentlemen, it becomes us to spree genteelly." "I'm not in for a spree, Captain," remarked Charles, somewhat abashed. I never indulge to excess; but am willing to do almost anything that may cure or kill this unbearable ennui; I'll venture upon a round or two." "O pshaw! such drinking as that does a fellow no little good; when a man begins, let him take sufficient to forget his sins." "That's the doctrine!" responded the principal drinker in the crowd, " come, Mr. Clinton," he ad- ded, " away with your squeamishness and consider yourself on a bust to-day!" "I have an aversion to these tall sprees, Mr. Swallow." "Ah, I see what's the matter; you've sickly no- tions of propriety: away with them; they are too stale, and should have been buried with your Grandfather! Young men of genius must keep up with the car of progress!" "But what if it fly the track, and run down hill?' ' Never fear for that; the car we take passage in, always travels upwards,-nor is it drawn by monkeys; we go on the fast line." "One might have thought so," remarked a boon Companion, "to have seen you the other night, three sheets in the wind, and the fourth about to flutter!" JIGHT, MORE LIGHT. 93 "O, that was glorious i" "No doubt; especially when you tumbled heels over head into the canal." "And like-to broke my infernal neck, and got almost drowned in the bargain! But so it will sometimes happen; there are at best some slippery places in this lower world, which if we do not over- leap, we must fall down upon." While thus conversing, the party was proceeding toward a coffee-house, which was considered the most fashionable in the city. As they approached the threshold of the temple of Bacchus, the cap- tain remarked: nLet us live while we live ! Walk in boys-_ With this encourageme t, all entered the grog. gery-those most accustomed to placesof baccha- nalian resort, leading the way. "What will you take, my fine fellows,?" said Charles, who claimed the privilege of treating the "Champagne, claret, or something of that sort will do to begin with," replied Captain Tumble "Come, old fatty," he added, ," set out your best wines." And down came the bottles, and clatter went the glasses. "Ah, here it is," said one, "with a sparkle in its eye i" " Take hold, gentlemen, take hold !" remarked Charles, " but where's our young friend, Horatio." "Standing bacik yonder," said the captain, "blushing like a bride! Walk up here, young man; you must learn to face the music." page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] " LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. "He's inclined to think screens a great invention for coffee-house doors," observed Charles, "I was well amused to see him slide in, after timdly glancing round to see whether any one was looking at him." Poor boy, his mother don't know he's out." "I'm glad she don't know I'm in," replied the well-bred youth." "In where, booby?" "This rum-hole ." "You green-horn! why care for that?" ," She'd think me in the neighborhood of perdi- tion." tiIndeed, you've an excellent mother, Horatio,- but quite too careful is she of her son. She'd have you believe that when a young man once passes within the threshold of a coffee-house, however genteel a place it may be, why he's upon the very confines of ruin; and when he takes the social glass, sure he's on the fast line to the devil! I tell you, my lad believe no such nonsense." , Women often see danger where there is none," gravely remarked another. "I'll tell you what, Horatio," he continued, "if a young man wants to figure in the world, he must not be afraid of trifles. Here now, is a mint-julep,-it will make you feel just right." ," Well, then, since you insist upon it, here goes," said the lad; and tossing back his head, quaffed the fiery liquid. "Bravo! bravo!" cried several voices. "The goslin swallows well!" "A few more like that, and my word for it, he'll think no more of his mamma's advice.' 95 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. "What's the use taking anything to heart'? let the world wag-and comets fall if they've a mind to." "At any rate, we'll fire another round;-my turn to treat; now Mr. Blubber, something a little stronger-the real bald face, if you have it. Come bo-hoys, fill to the brim this time-now for it, my braves!" Then all clashing their tumblers together in token of friendship, they turned off simultaneous- ly the intoxicating beverage. Before his heavy potations began to take effect, Charles felt keenly the goadings of conscience for the part he had acted in inducing Horatio to par- take, and so much against his inclination, of the inebriating cup. But these qualms only prompted him to drink the more freely,--that his moral sen- sibilities and feelings of remorse might be drowned in the flowing bowl. As the revelling party continued to fill and drain their cups, sallies of wit and repartee flew vividly round the jolly circle, till the blue-devils were no- where-at least for the time, quite vanquished. "Coffee-houses are great institutions! What think you, Captain?" "Clearly of the same opinion Another horn all round, my hardies;-down with your decanter, Mr. Slabsides; I like to see a bar-keeper stir himself when his illustrious customers are on a bust. Here, my braves, never stand back;--this is the road to distinction,-andit lies open to every man; beggars may become princes! The Scottish bard was right-- Kings may be blessed, but Tam was page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] 96 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. glorious! Why need any man be poor, when three drams can make him rich? Say, Clinton, suppose it be but imagination, don't the miserable mendicant forget his rags and his wretchedness?" "But when he gets sober?" "Why 'tis his unalienable right to get drunk again." "What if he have a wife and children?' "None of your preaching to me; my doctrine is -let every poor devil take care of himself." "Suppose," said one at his elbow, "I had acted out that kind of doctrine the night you fell into the canal, too drunk to keep yourself out?" "That alters the case, you know;-any one with a spark of humanity in his bosom would lend assistance, if necessary, to an intoxicated man." "Yet leave his wife and children to starve, when that which should have bought them bread he hoggishy expended for rum to make himself drunk." "Let us have no controversy, Mr Clinton, but a little sprinkle more of old tangle-heels ;-and your conscience will become elastic as India-rubber, and quiet as a duck-pond. I'll fill your glass- now turn off that bumper, and if these moralizing notions do not subside, I'm no judge. Conscience is a troublesome thing-but it never disturbs a liquor-seller; say, an't I right, Mr. Blubber?" '*I got over that sort of weakness long time ago;" replied the corpulent gentleman, with a wheeze, "and wish," he added, "I was as clear of this infernal difficulty of breathing." "If you but had a healthy conscience, I doubt not that you'd breathe easier." "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 97 An old bloat, with a beet-red nose, who had just entered, observed, as he was about to pour a bump- er down his throat: "' There's nothing like a man's extinguishing himself!" "Is that fellow one of us?" muttered young Horatio, staring at the besotted specimen of hu- manity; but rather too tipsy to see with perfect accuracy, "upon my word, if he's not extinguished pretty soon he'll certainly become a conlagration --his nose looks already in a blaze!' "Be sparing of your jests, young man," signifi- cantly remarked the inebriate, "you may one day be an object of derision yourself-for I perceive you're on the same road that has brought me to the state I'm in." "Pray, sir, what state is that?" "A state of rags and wretchedness." "Ah, this is a miserable world;" observed Charles Clinton, we drink to cure ennui, which it never fails to make worse: the unnatural elation is soon followed by a corresponding depression; then come infernal head aches, dismal dreams and night- mare!" "Hang the fellow," said the Captain, staggering up to the bar, "he's about to preach his own funeral! Wonder what he means by ennui--some more of his Latin, I dare say." "Explain to the ignoramus, Clinton; we belong to the enlightening society, you know." "Even so; well then, I11 explain-- " "But stop, let's have another horn--then come on with your dictionary." "All right, Captain,--now then, after such ai 9' page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] araugnt as mtat, you'll certainly not De dry soon!" "I'm ready to hear that hard word explained; what do you call it?" "Ennui. Well then, just imagine yourself being steeped in a frog-pond, with a green scum over it, on a hot sunshiny day-and the empty parts of your skull filled with the slime, wiggletails and tadpoles at, the bottom, and you have some faint conception of the horrible feeling in the mind, called ennui." "And do you say rum will clear away the green scum?" "Undoubtedly-and make the brain float on the surface like a blubber; but soon as the gas is ex- hausted, it sinks deeper in the slime than before; and you think there's a buzzard gnawing at your liver like a hungry hound." "Horrible! Almost as bad as the delirium tre- mendous." "Ha! ha! ha! That must be awful!" "Perhaps the fellow means delirium tremens." "Yes, no doubt; his fatherdied of it; and a most frightful death it was. Poor old man! I saw him kick the bucket, and start for that dreadful place preachers tell of. 1 well remember his last words." "A prayer, was it?" "No, no; he had too much spunk to pray after living such a dare-devil life." What then did he say?" "These were his words: 'By jing, this is going to hell on a rough road!' then uttering a terrific groan, as grim death cut short his breath, he struggled for a moment, as if grappling wit l fiends, and all was over." -...w. ) IUt1VKG JUIGHT. 99 And here's his hopeful son, going full gallop on the same road!" "Don't be alarmed for me: a few sprees don't make a man a drunkard." A game of cards was at length proposed, and the spree was kept up till a late hour of the night. Charles Clinton and James Br6wn being more intox- icated than the rest of the company, were last in leaving the coffee-house. Some time after midnight the two inexperienced inebriates, started for their homes; the night being dark and stormy, they soon lost their -way. Brown having taken a heavy draught just before starting, his intoxication in- creased; -- at length getting too top-heavy to navigate, he fell down; and in vain his drunken companion endeavored to get him on his feet again. Charles chanced to blunder upon a wheelbarrow, near where Brown was lying; the thought at once occurred to him, that he could put his helpless companion on this very convenient vehicle and con- vey him home; so he rolled the drunken man upon the wheelbarrow, and started with him, with- out seeing or knowing whither he went. To add to their misfortunes, a violent thunder-storm blew up; the rain descended in torrents, and an occa- sional flash of lighting fell upon the overpowered sight with bewildering vividness; still driving ahead at a venture, the hapless wretches plunged headlong into a cellar, from which an old bulding had that day been removed. - Gathering himself up, bewildered scarcely less by his fall than from the effects of rum, he gazed a moment upwards upon the rent clouds, Thence proceeded loud, bellowing ) , s page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] 100 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. thunders -then vociferated in a drunken tone: "A little more light, and not quite so much noise up there thunder!"-struck "Halloe,! Charles, an't we thunder-struck?" bawled out his still more unfortunate companion, who was lying underneath the wheelbarrow, more dead than alive. , "4Worse than thunder-struck," answered Charles The devil's to pay;-and I'm keen to swear hell's not far from this place 1" "Well then, it's about time to liquor." "Ah, yes, here's the flask you poked into my pocket." "Hand it over you rascal; I'm horrid dry." Better off than I, this rain's drowning me. "Where are you, my fine fellow?" "Don't know-enquire below." After feeling round some time in the dark, hardly knowing whether head or heels were uppermost, Charles got hold of one of Brown's legs, and being too drunk to know the difference, gathered it up, saying: "Open your mouth, you brainless pup- py." And getting the neck of the bottle between his gaiter and boot, emptied the liquor therein." "Look out there 1" muttered Brown. "Does it strangle you? Swallow better next time." "Yes, you tarnal cur, I'm strangled." "Your neck's so plagued long--that's why?" "Just tie a knot in it, blunderbuss." The wretched fellows at length overcome by the stupefying effects of alcoholic drinks, fell asleep: and the next morning found themselvesin a pretty pickle. (Itaptni 11+ Scene in a Coffee-house-Frailty of good Resolutions. DEEPLY stung with remorse, Charles Clinton returned from his first spree, fully resolved in his mind never again to moisten his lips with strong d-ink. Alas, good resolutions are not always kept: so it turned out with Charles. Though a young man of more than ordinary firinness and decision of character, having once yielded to temptation he found himself thereafter easily disarmed and led away into paths of vice and dissipation. It was at a dark hour, and when oppressed with gloomy feelings, the temptation came upon him to turn again to the inebriating cup. Meditating upon the cause of his heart's deep sorrow, he said to himself: "The Jesuit has accomplished his purpose; his perfidious designs are consummated. Fortune fa- vors the wretch; were it not so, ere this he would have been the victim of my vengeance;-narrowly did he escape me. But why indulge thoughts that only ferment the soul, and light within me the consuming fires of enraged feeling? The evil is without remedy; let the past be forgotten; yea, and the present too! I'll prove Shakspeare false, -' Who can minister to a mind diseased?' Rum - says, 'Tis I!P Well, to testthe matter, I'll go down (101) page: 102-103[View Page 102-103] to the coffee-house." And off he went, seemingly reckless of consequences or of what end he might come to. The first to greet him on entering the groggery, was James Brown, whom he had not met before since their unfortunate-spree, when they lodged to- gether in thecellar, on that dark and stormy night previously mentioned. Charles readily perceived from Brown's appearance that he had been indulg- ing to great excess in strong drink since he had last seen him. His eyes were red and much inflam- ed; and his cheeks flushed and bloated. This caused Charles to feel some misgiving; yet he con- sented to drink, but with manifest reluctance. Af- ter stimulating a little, Clinton remarked: " Friend Brown, has it never occurred to you, that we are throwing ourselves away by falling into intemper- ate habits?" " I'm in for enjoying life-consequences be what they may," replied the other, with a reckless air. "But for a man to brutalize himself is not the way to enjoy life; but the surest method of destroy- ing all capacity for enjoyment." See these well dressed fellows that resort here; are they brutalized? Every now and then they take a spree; but still remain men-and gentlemen!" "All are not men that wear the human form." True, some are women." "None of your whiskey wit, Jim,--I'm rather in a sober mood to-day." "Touched the cup too lightly-that's what's the matter; when you want to be jolly, always fill to the brim. Some, now, let me pour out for you this time." "GHT, MORE LIGHT. I03 "No; I'll stimulate no more to-day." There never was a time, young man, when you needed it worse; for you look solemn ag the night side of creation! Walk up and take a little more of the ' O be joyful."' "Stop now, Jim,--sit you down by me and let us converse. You're good cqmpany when sober; but an intolerable bore when drunk.'i "A dubious complment. But what have you to say?" "I was just thinking what a blessing it would prove to humanity if ardent spirits were banished from the earth." "'Truly, intemperance is an evil of no little mag. nitude; but there's no help for it." "There might be, if legislators would but do their duty." ould but do No power have they to exterminate the curse." Why not? Let us have a law to prohibit the manufacture and sale of alcoholic liquors to be used as a beverage." "What! in this free country?' "Certainly so." "Twould be an unwarrantable interference with the rights of freemen. Never will it do to legis- late upon the subject in a republican government like ours." "Have we not had legislation upon the subject?" "True, certain laws have been passed in most, if not all the States, regulating the traffic." "Then you admjt legislative bodies maintain the right to legislate on the subject? If they possess this right, and may grant license to sell theperni- a X t eltepri page: 104-105[View Page 104-105] cious beverage, unquestionably they may rightfully prohibit the manufacturing and vending of the article." 'The precious boon of liberty is too highly prized by the American people, ever to submit to anything of that sort." "Does true liberty know no restraint? Does ra- tional freedom give loose rein to the passions of men, and the diabolical propensities of the wicked and reckless? With such liberty there would soon be an end of liberty. The very worst form of des- potism would be infinitely preferable to a liberty that would unchain the tiger, and let go the lior. and hyena! There are human monsters more to be feared than savage beasts! Such reprobates turned loose upon society, with their lawless passions un- checked, what would become of the peace, order and harmony of society? Where would virtue and religion find safety? and to whom would the weak and defenseless go for shelter and protection." "Hold, now, my friend, and look at the subject dispassionately for a moment: if legislative bodies, in this country, once begin to infringe the inalien- able rights of the people, where will they find a stopp ing place? Such a law as you propose would be tyranny;-once enacted, and the door of despot- ism will be thrown wide open!" "Individual rights must sometimes be sacrificed for public good; no considerate, virtuous citizen will a moment hesitate to waive his individual rights, where he sees the same productive of ade- quate public good. In the operations of society, the greatest good to the greatest number is the leading "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 105 aim. The governmental operations of society are based upon the sacrifice of individual rights. To assume that individual rights are infiangable, and must not in any case be yielded, is to paralyze all governmental action, and reduce us to the condi- tion of barbarism. In such a condition as that, the rights of each individual are continuplly violated by the lawless impulses of the unprincipled; and he is liable to greater injuries and oppression from the unprincipled, who are always in the majority, than he would suffer from any form of organized government. Then to protect our rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, all should be willing to surrender a portion of their rights to or- ganize a government in order to preserve the re- mainder-which, withoutsuch surrender, can have no security." "But come at once to the point. I want to hear no long spun metaphysical argument: the question s, would it be right for the government to restrain, y law, the sale and consumption of alcoholic weverages?" "Well, then, to that point I willingly come: Can ve hesitate to admit that society has a right to rotect its weaker members from the continual trong, misery and oppression which come of inter. erance?" (But you must remember that the laws neces- ary for such protection restrain the whole commu. [ty alike." "Is that a sufficient objection to their passage?" "Why not?" "Has any one a right to place his individual page: 106-107[View Page 106-107] comfort and convenience as a barrier to the preven- tion of crime, and the salvation of life?" "Getting to be a real enthusiast in the cause of temperance! Another horn, and I dare say, you'd be able to make a temperance lecture worth listen- ing to." "Honestly, I would regard a prohibitory liquor law, as the greatest philanthro movement that could be set on foot." "But see you not what injustice such a law would work to men who are engaged in the liquor business? Take, for example, the proprietors of this establishment: a considerable, sum has been here invested; a prohibitory law would ruin their business, destroy their occupation, and take from them at once their property and livelihood!" "Ah, that sounds plausible; but where is your sympathy for the poor widows and orphans, made such by this establishment; the untold wretched- ness and destitution caused by the occupation of these men; the scores and hundreds they ruin by their iniquitous calling? Look upon this picture, while you have tears so ready to be poured out for the authors of so much mischief. You remind me of the tender hearted Frenchman, who was one day traveling in a stage-coach through the hill country of Kentucky, in company with quite a; number of male and female passengers. The spirited steeds were dashing on in a sweeping trot, while the driv- er was culpably inattentive to his duties; now de- scending a short declivity, their speed was consid- erably accelerated; immediately in the track, lying at his leisure, lazily chewing his cud, there "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 107 chanced to be a little scrub-breed, crumply-horned bull; being rather stupid in his habits of reflection -not unlike certain other animals I've known, whose heads are hornless-he delayed his attempts to escape a little too late;-just as a sense of dan- ger began to dawn upon him, prompting a desper- ate effort to get out of harm's way, the forewheel of the coach came unceremoniously in contact with his bullship, striking him plumb between the horns. The coach upsetting, tumbled all the passengers adown the hill-side in a heap,-horridly bruising and mangling women, children and men. The tender-hearted Frenchman, to whom I have allud- ed, more fortunate than the rest, received no seri- ous injury. Extracting himself hurriedly from the midst of the ruins, and without stopping a moment to look after his fellow travelers, or to offer the least assistance to the crippled and helpless who lay suf- focating underneath the dilapidated vehicle, he be- gan to cry out in a most pitiful strain: " Poor little bull! me 'raid him kilt! me 'fraid him kilt, poor little bull!" " ' What, now, pray tell me, has that bull story to do with the subject we're.discussing? Introduced for the sake of embellishment, I imagine." "See you not the application?" "I see nothing in it but the bull story." Then, perhaps, I should have likened you, not so much to the Frenchman as to the hapless bull; the first was remarkable for his misdirected sympa- thies; the latter for his stupidity." "Just' as you please to have it, Mr. Clinton; but I'd like to see the point in that marvelous illustra- tion." page: 108-109[View Page 108-109] "Well, I'll give it you. In case an anti-liquor law should be enacted, it seems you'd be ready to feel the dint of pity for, and lavish your warmest sympathies upon, the dealers in alcoholic drinks-a class of men who are an absolute curse to commu- nity, and who cause many a broken heart as well as broken limb! Like the weeping Frenchman, who bewailed the fate of the little bull, while he overlooked the sad disaster which had befallen his fellow passengers,-you look not at the wide-spread and melancholy desolation caused by the flowing out of this distilled poison over the land; but would bestow all your pity on the authors of the hydra- headed evil, in case they were to lose money by the operations of a prohibitory law. Yes, you've bot- tles of tears ready to be poured out for the men who are instrumental in sending abroad, and perpetual- ly augmenting this dire curse-this sweeping, fiery tide of devastation! You would weep, not that thousands are crushed in heart and hopes by the demon of intemperance; weep not that the lofty pillar of human dignity is oft- broken down, and the grand superstructure of the immortal mind laid in ruins,-but that the traffickers in strong drink should experience pecuniary loss by the drying up of the most prolific source of crime and human wretchedness! For one, I should be in for taking care of the passengers, and leaving the unlucky bull 'unwept, unhonored and unsung."' "Enough clearer than sunshine! Who can fail to be convinced? But say what you will, rum is a good thing in its place." "Yet you'll allow it not unfrequently gets out of its place, and does a vast deal of mischief?" "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 109 "pThat may be; but, notwithstanding, let us prize it for its many good qualities." "Good qualities! Please name some of them." "You'll hardly deny that ardent spirits possess medicinal virtues?" "Thesame may be said of venomous reptiles: in the rattlesnake is found an oil which is good for particular ailments: yet would you justify any one of your neighbors in entering upon the business of raising serpents,-petting and caressing them? In such a case you would no doubt complain to the authorities. It would hardly be sufficient for him to plead that snake oil was an excellent medicine; espenially if some of your particular friends had been bitten by the reptiles. Were such a thing to' happen, I fancy there would be a general killing ofl snakes." "Stop, now,.my good fellow; I've an argument you can't get round." "Say on.", "Rum will always let alone ,those who let it alone." "Are you sure of that?" "Quite sure." Let us see: there stands a man on the pposite sider the house, with red eyes and bloated face-- perhaps you know him? at any rate I do; he is a husband and father. But a few years ago that ragged wretch was in comfortable circumstances and enjoyin It^ :;0^ ^ ^ and enjoying the sunshine of prosperity; a happier family circle than his I've seldom known. A change came over that happy family;-the wife and mother, once loving, content and cheerful, is, page: 110-111[View Page 110-111] "O LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. now heart-broken, emaciated, and driven to mad- ness and desperation! Their children, once prized as jewels, are now neglected, and suffering hunger and nakedness;-their once sweet home is now a sad picture of desolation! And why all this? Ah, rum has been there! rum has made the sad havoc, brought abot the melancholy change! Yet you say, rum lets alone those who let it alone. Did it let alone the wife and children of that miserable inebriate? They let it alone; never tasted, but for- ever detested the accursed thing. In defiance of their opposition the monster visited their peaceful abode, robbing it of every comfort, every charm; withering every joy-turning Eden to a hell, spread- ing desolation, and causing thorns to spring, up where only sweet flowers were wont to bloom!" "Getting entirely too sentimental, friend Charles; you'll certainly turn preacher pretty soon For my part, I intend making the best of this prsent life, for fear it may be the last chance; and where- ever I see opportunity for any kind of gratification, I'm bound to 'pitch in!' As for others, I've no con- cern; let every man paddle his own canoe."' Too much selfishness in that, Jim Brown! I envy not the man who is content to pass through this sinful, suffering world, and leave it none the better for his having lived in it. We should live, not for ourselves alone, but for humanity-for the world!" Becoming sensible of his own weakness and ex- ceeding liability to go astray from the path of so- briety, Charles again resolved to drink no more. But associated as he now was with dissipated con- "GHT, MORE LIGHT. "1 panions ,, pann, he was perpetually tempted; for a while he firmly resisted; but alas, there comes, perhaps, to every man, an occasional hour of frailty; Charles was by no meaas exempt from the common weak. ess; at an unhappy moment he again fell. Now losing self respect, he repeatedly indulged, until he became the slave of the unnatural appetite. otte page: 112-113[View Page 112-113] tfldathr 12. Lizzie Allen and Helen Ashton take the veil-Isadora Greenwood a maniac. KIND reader, if not yet weary of my story, please go with me again to "St. Mary's of the Woods." And let me here assure you, this is not an institu- tion, which only has an existence in the writer's imagination; nor think that he has given it a fic- titious name; it is a well known Nunnery in the Wabash valley-and but a few miles distant from the childhood home of him who writes these pages. And you will pardon me for further assuring you, that the story now being penned, is not without foundation in fact; although presented in the guise of fiction, and clad in the habilinents of romance. After the lapse of months, we are again at the Convent. Laying aside all attempts at embellish- ment, I'll here relate an incident, or rather des- cribe a scene, which I had from the lips of one who was an eye witness to the same. Elizabeth Allen and Helen Ashton had, for some time, worn the white veil, which is the badge of the novitiate, without the knowledge or consent of their Protestant parents. Infatuated by the re- ligious delusion, which their Romish teachers had instilled into their juvenile minds, they consented f (112) "GHT,' MORE LIGHT. 113 after long persuasion, to take the black veil, and and enter the cloister for life. The solemn hour had come;--Lizzie and Helen were brought forward to the altar of consecration. 'eeply imbued as they were with the Catholic faith, when it came to the test of abjuring the world, never more to taste its pleasures, nor see fond parents, nor mingle ever again with loving friends, their hearts melted, and manifest feelings of regret and misgiving came over them; perceiving which, priest Dupee, who conducted the ceremony, said to them' "The salvation of your souls, dear ones, from the flames of a burning hell, is of far more importance to you than the society of earth- ly friends, and the fleeting pleasures of this wicked world." Thus urged, they endured the heartless cruelty imposed by priestly hands, and consented to the oblivion of the cloister. Speaking of Lizzie Allen, my informant said: Lizzie was a sweet girl; the bloom of health was upon her cheek; but the gloom that hung upon her young heart clouded her fair brow. Her hair of golden hue, looked like shining threads of amber as disheveled it dropped upon her graceful form." When beneath the cruel shears, her glittering tresses began to fall, a pearly tear a moment glistened in her mild blue eye, then coursed its way down her rose-tinted cheeks. The scene was touching, and calculated to move the most stony heart. After the mummery, as usual on similar occa- sions, the nuns were taken to the cloister, and assigned their gloomy appartments. 10 ; page: 114-115[View Page 114-115] Whenleft alone,Helen,remarked: "How dreary seems this part f the Convent! never before have I experienced such a feeling of desolation." Lizzie answered not, but throwing her arms around Helen's neck, burst inth a flood of tears. While they were silently weeping, locked in each- other's embrace, Josephine Elbridge entered their apartment. Having been associated together in the schoolroom, previous to Josephine's taking the veil, they rejoiced to meet again, and tenderly em- braced. While they discoursed on the duties of the clois- ter, a wild, startling laugh was heard in the hall. "Be not alarmed," said Josephine, " that is poor Isadora Greenwood, whom they say Satan has made mad." "Isadora Greenwood gone mad!" exclaimed Lizzie Allen, in a tone that bespoke the agony she felt. "Giving her mind perpetually to unhappy refiec- tions, she has at last become a maniac.' "Entirely bereft of reason, is she?" "For the most part of the time; yet has lucid intervals, and is sometimes remarkably shrewd." Isadora, having broken from the cell, in which she was usually confined, now rushed into the presence of Josephine and the two nuns who had just entered the cloister, and for a moment fixed her eyes upon them, with a wondering and deliri- ous gaze; then breaking forth in a strain of wild, sweet music, sung, impromptu, the following lines: Sweet spirits dear, What seek ye here, "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 115 Where the beautious maid But comes to pine and fade? Alas, more hearts to break And all for heaven's dear sake;- As priests can show, It must be so. Worn and weary, Cold and dreary, O, let me bid farewell To all this monkish hell, And go to seek afar, Some lonely distant star, That peace of mind I there may find. Here saints we frow, For hell below. Let clergy call it heaven- Their lies be ne'er forgiven. As you may live to see Your sacrifice shall be, Virtue, duty, Youth and beauty. They call me mad; That makes me glad,- For reason was my foe, Long ago, long ago! From the pure air of heaven By foul fiends I'm driven! Like you, my dears, I once shed tears. Now suddenly pausing, she covered her face, and convulsively wept. Directly a quick transition of feelings seemed to flash through her mind, and she looked up, with a bright smile playing upon her features and shining behind her tears like sun- page: 116-117[View Page 116-117] 1 6 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. beams streaming through a misty cloud. Again, in a melodious voice, she began to sing: Happy and free As the honey bee, I'll cull the sweet flowers And deck rosy bowers. I've golden wings to fly High as the starry sky! Then soon I'll go From realms of woe. To the deep sea Come follow me; Its shining pearls are mine; They all, all shall be thine. O, there forever lave The moaning, moaning wave;- It sighs for me- Come, come and see. Again pausing, she looked earnestly into the faces of Lizzie and Helen, and said: "'Beautiful damsels, have ye neither homes nor friends, that ye come hither to breath the foul contagion? Love you to dwell where maniacs rave, and fiends prowl for prey?" "I see no fiends, Isadora," remarked Elizabeth, thinking to dissipate her imaginary fears. "Ah, you'd not know them to be such at first sight," replied the lunatic, looking archly, "they wear clerical robes." "'Good priests are not fiends." "Good priests! ha! ha! ha! good priests, fair one, have all gone to heaven;-those that remain, claiming to be such, are traveling the other way. "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 117 What do we poor reprobates want of demons to confess our sins to?" "Strange things you imagine, Isadora." "I tell thee, simple girl, the men to whoin you go to get your sins forgiven, have more wickedness in their hearts and iniquity on their heads, than all the waters in the mighty seas can wash away!" The Abbess, discovering the maniac at liberty, approached, and rudely seizing her by the arm, said in a harsh, ungentle voice: "Miserable wretch, return to your cell, and be quiet, or else you'll have to be beaten again." Not being instantly obeyed, the Superior dragged the unhappy creature violently away, and rudely thrust her backwards into a miserble, dark cell, and locking the door, left her wildly raving. "O that we had gone to our graves," exclaimed Helen Ashton, "ere we entered this horrible place 1" I , page: 118-119[View Page 118-119] The shrewdness of Insanity-Haunted cell-- Conspirators punished-Exorcism. The insanity of Isadora was peculiar: her re- flections, at times, seemed profound, and her per- ceptions almost supernaturally acute; yet she had frequent spells of raving madness, at which times she was apt to make disclosures that gave no little uneasiness to certain priests who habitually visited the Convent. Dupee was particularly solicitous that she might have' no opportunity of --uttering what she ought not in the presence of Josephine, whose mind, he well knew, was always filled with suspicion, doubt and misgivings. His continual fears upon that subject led him finally to resolve on giving her a quietus. To carry out his perfidious intention, he thought it necessary to have the assistance of the Abbess, whom he well knew would readily enter into his designs, and might safely be trusted. He therefore sought an opportunity of disclosing to her his plan. The lunatic's suspicions were aroused by a sly manoeuvering, she had failed not to observe, on the part of the priest; managing to break out of her cell, she stealthily made her way, through the dim twilight of the evening, into the room occupied (118) "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 119 by the Abbess, and there concealed herself. Some time after dark, as Isadora had shrewdly conjec- tured, Dupee entered the Superior's apartment, when the following conversation took place be- tween him and the Abbess: "Beyond a doubt, worthy Abbess, Isadora is hopelessly insane." "Yes, her madness is incurable ;" was the reply. She's a burden of which we must contrive to rid ourselves." "How can we?" "Give her a quietus. There's no better method." Kill her, do you mean?" "How else can we dispose of her? 'Tis easy to sip a poisoned chalice; and may be done quietly." "Is not her soul to be cared for?" "By all means." "But too stubborn is she to confess her sins." "Full of the devil, I know; but the holy hstru- ments of torture, when other arguments fail, are always potent. We'll persuade her to drink wine which shall contain a fatal drug; then take her to the dungeon cell, and apply the thumb-screws, till, if no severer torture be found necessary, confession is extorted. Then I'll grant her absolution. This may be done before the poison takes effect. The dungeon door fastens by a spring-lock, and can only be opened from without; she'll therefore be secure." "Then it had better be done at once." "Yes, while all are asleep. Here's the drug; get me a goblet of wine; then go you to the cell and have in readiness the thumb-screws; I'll bring her in." / page: 120-121[View Page 120-121] 120 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. "Beware of her strength; for in her raving fits she hath the might and fierceness of a tigress." "Yes, of a tigress!" shrieked a voice behind them. At the same instant, the maniac sprung at the astonished priest like a fury, and seizing him by the throat, hurled his holiness headlong to the floor! Then grappling him again, with the super- human strength not uncommon to maniacs, she raised him up several feet, then brought him down with a crash, and began thrashing his head against the floor at a terrific rate, almost knocking his brains out. The Abbess being too much frightened to render assistance, or even to move hand or foot, his reverence would certainly have been mauled to death, but for the swooning of Isadora, whose strength suddenly left her. As soon as Dupee had sufficiently recovered from his terrible thumping, and the Abbess from her panic, they dragged the exhausted lunatic to the dungeon cell. While the wretches were getting ready the instruments of torture, Isadora came to her senses, as if by a miracle, and quick as thought, sprung to her feet, and darted from the cell; snatching at the opeh door as she past, luckily it came to with a slam; which, fastening by a spring-lock, made secure both priest and Abbess. Never before, perhaps, were living mortals kindled to such a diabolical rage; they made furious outcry, and pronounced the most fearfu curses upon her who had so narrowly escaped thei inquisitorial vengeance. Isadora paused a moment to listen at thei "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 121 raving; when their first burst of indignation had a little subsided for the want of breath, the maniac tantalizingly said: ' There, demon and demoness, howl in that dun- geon cell, as you'll one day howl in hell!"Then to herself she whispered: "Now, I'll go straight and report this cell is haunted; the inmates of the Convent are just superstitious enough to believe it. Besides, I'll aver that with my own eyes I saw the devil: fly away with priest and Abbess; and after that, none, I'll warrant, will venture soon that door to opep. Then my escape I'll make: And ever pray That never may Such fiends as they See the light of day." The great outcry made by Dupee and the Abbess, had now awakened the inmates of the cloister; a number of whom had collected together wondering what could be the matter. Isadora soon appearing in their midst, failed not to im- prove the opportunity of increasing their dismay, by relating the marvel she had so hastily manufac- tured. Her story had the desired effect; the panic was complete. On the sane night Isadora made her escape; and however strange it may seem, no sooner had she reached her friends in Prairie City, than she recovered her reason, and was perfectly restored to her right mind. In the Convent a great wonderment existed; the sisters of charity spread the news; and every cheek was pale with terror, Dismal shrieks and ", page: 122-123[View Page 122-123] howlings were heard, which seemed to issue from the depths of the earth underneath the Convent. Every mind being filled with superstitious fears, none ventured to seek the cause, nor to unfold the mystery. Bishop Constantine at length being sent for, to perform the ceremony of exorcism, by which it is supposed that wicked spirits may be banished, he came, and, accompanied by several priests, some of whom had heard the unaccountable wailings about the Convent, he ventured down a long winding stairway to the cell whence it was said the sounds proceeded. Pausing near the threshold of the dungeon, he thus addressed priest Raphael: "Say you Dupee and Abbess have been missing three days?" "Full three days, Bishop." "And the maniac declared, that with her own natural eyes she saw the devil fly off with them?" "Thus she affirmed." "And soon after, she too, strangely disappeared?" "So say all the nuns." "Think you the devil took her too?" C There remains little doubt of it." "Have you with your own ears heard the myste- rious howlings, said to issue from this cell?" 'That have I, till my hair has stood on end." Now a deep groan was heard within, then came rapping upon the door, to the great consternation of the assembled clergy. The Bishop, looking much excited, exclaimed: "Wondrous! Let's go at once and prepare for exorcism. Bishops have ever possessed power, as holy councils declare, to exorcise evil spirits." / "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 123 "True," replied Raphael, "and even the devil himself, they say, yields to a Bishop." Now several raps louder than before resounded upon the door. Whereupon the priests, in desperate affright, all with one accord took to flight. Recovering a little from the panic, they assem- bled all the nuns, and with much pomp and solem- nity, celebrated mass;. then falling into ranks, according to their several grades, they marched in silent procession towards the subterraneous cell. Bishop Constantine led the phalanx, carrying in front of him a large gilded cross; the priests ac- companying him; carried each a smaller crucifix; the nuns followed after, bearing lighted candles in their hands. Upon reaching the haunted cell, all crossed themselves; then Bishop Constantine, in a pompous, solemn voice, said: 'Evil spirits, goblins, witches, and all devils of what grade soever-and whatever else that may inhabit hell, if ye be here, I conjure and command you in the name of the Holy Virgin Mary, depart, nor dare evermore to trouble us." Again they crossed themselves; and the Bishop declared the exorcism effectual. "Now," said he, "I'll throw open the door; and you'll ever after be convinced that Bishops have power over evil spirits." Pale and trembling, his holiness advanced with faltering steps to the threshold; putting on all the courage he could command, he succeeded in open- ing the door. Whereupon, Dupee and Abbess staggered forth, haggard and ghost-like in their appearance. x,. page: 124-125[View Page 124-125] 124 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. Such terror now seized upon the Bishop and those who attended him, that all stood speechless and ghastly-too much petrified either to speak or run. Dupee, perceiving'they were taken for goblins, sought at once to satisfy the Bishop that he was really confronted by flesh and blood; but the ad- vances of the starv'ed and frightful looking wretch, only added to the dismay which already caused Constantine to shake in his shoes. "No nearer! no nearer!" exclaimed his holiness; while his hair stood on end, and his glaring eye- balls seemed wildly starting from their sockets. "'Tis father Dupee," said Raphael, with uplifted hands. "Questionable!" replied the Bishop,. "may be a fiend, who, but to deceive us, assumes his shape. Or if Dupee, and the devil flew off with him, as they say-why he may be back for no good purpose, No nearer, pray; come not to me! I never could brook the devil!" "Bishop, I tell you, 'tis father Dupee!" "But where's he been? 'Twere well the devil had kept him in, or soon would take him again!" "Feel me," spoke the goblin priest, "I'm flesh and blood." "Good God!" exclaimed Constantine, starting back as if shrinking from the clutches of a fiend!" "Be convinced, Bishop!" said the Abbess, stag- gering towards him. "Avaunt! avaunt!" cried the Bishop, "brim- stone smell Hthey're strait from hell!"Then taking to his heels, fled with all possible speed, followed by the no less terrified priests and nuns. * .. )apter lf. The disguise-A Jesuit out-witted-Josephine's rescue. CHARLES CLINTON learned from Isadora Greenwood after her escape from the Convent, that Josephine was unhappy in the cloister, and endured with lit- tle patience the life of a recluse. This induced him again to resolve on rescuing her, if possible, from the living death to which priestcraft had con- signed her. At once abandoning the habits of in- temperance into which he had fallen, all his mind and energies were bent upon the recovery and sal- vation of Josephine, whom he yet fondly, nay, ar- dently loved, notwithstanding the length of time which had elapsed since he had seen her. First, under pretence of finding a place in the school for a sister, Charles visited St. Mary's. He was received with civility, and courteously treated until he ventured to make inquiry after Josephine Elbridge; this, he discovered immediate- ly, gave offense and aroused suspicion. He, how- ever, pressed the inquiry; receiving no satisfaction, he boldly demanded the privilege of searching for her in the Convent. At this the teachers and Ab- bess became highly incensed, locked the Convent doors, and bade him begone. (125) page: 126-127[View Page 126-127] 126 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. Unable to accomplish his object, Charles return- ed home, determined in his mind that by some stratagem he would yet contrive to enter the clois- ter. To some of his Protestant friends he proposed - \that they should accompany him to the Convent, and assist him in forcing his way through bolted doors into the cloister. He was coldly answered: "The laws of the country tolerate and protect mo- nastic institutions; we, therefore, have no right to interfere. Josephine has voluntarily abjured the world; and if she is now detained against her will, she has none but herself to blame." This feeling, however absurd and heartless, is general among Protestants. Charles found none truly to sympathize with him, nor take an interest in the fate of Josephine, but Isadora Greenwood and Fannie Brown. The latter proposed making an effort to find her way to the cloister by stratagem. "How will it be possible for you to succeed?" said Charles. ' I think I've hit upon it: I'm a stranger to Du- pee, you're aware." Yes " "He'll not know who i am, nor where I'm from; nor whether I'm a deil or saint." ; True,-what then?" 'I'll dress myself in black,-put on a face like a tombstone, and go to him with a doleful story-tell him my friends are dead, and the world seems a wilderness; and that I've thoughts of becoming a recluse, and seeking repose in the cloister. And, by the way, hint on being heiress to a few thous- LiGHT, MORE LIGHT. 127 and dollars, which possibly I may one day esteem it my religious duty to confer on the Church. When his expectations stand on tiptoe, I'll then suggest the propriety of passing a few days in the Convent, previous to taking any obligations, in or- der to test my fortitude and faith. Besides, I'll in- sist upon the privilege of seeing all the inmates of the cloister;-to grant which, I'm aware, will be to violate an established regulation of the institution: yet the few thousand I'll forget not to hint on, will no doubt suffice to give the hypocrite a pliant con- science." "Pliant his conscience, sure, if any he has." "If Josephine's in the Convent I'm bound to see her." * , * * * * * Clad in weeds of mourning, Fannie went to priest Dupee, and proceeded in all respects as she had previously determined. So perfectly did she play her part, the slightest suspicion never entered the mind of the priest, hypocrite as he was, that he was being gulled. At first he made some objection to the privilege she asked in the Convent, but finding nothing else would do, and being taken with the idea of her being an heiress, he directly became in- tent only on humoring her fancies. He agreed to allow her the privileges she asked, and appointed an hour on the following day for her to call again, at which time he would accompany her to the Con- vent. * * * * * * * * After the departure of his fair visitor, Dupee went and informed the Abbess of the affair; charg- page: 128-129[View Page 128-129] 128 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. ing her to treat the young lady kindly, and allow her liberty to come and go as she might choose, and visit at pleasure any of the nuns, except Josephine Elbridge. He further instructed the Abbess, to carefully enjoin upon the nuns that they all appear cheerful and content in the presence of the visitor, Punctual to the time, Fannie, at the appointed {hour, called upon the priest, and was accompanied by him to the Convent, and introduced to the Supe- rior,-who expressed a willingness to gratify her wishes, and to serve her in any way she might de- sire. Fannie made haste to visit all parts of the build- ing to which she could find access; but nowhere met with Josephine, the object of her search. Growing discouraged, she at length ventured to in- quire of the Abbess what had become of her. She received at first an evasive answer; but was at length told that Josephine had left the cloister, and that they knew not where she was gone. The sus- picion at once flashed upon Fannie's mind, that Josephine might be in the dungeon cell, where Dupee had attempted to put Isadora Greenwood. Remembering Isadora's description of the long, winding stairway which led down to the cell, she resolved at the dead hour of night to descend and make search. It was near midnight, when the intrepid, daunt- less girl ventured through the thick darkness alone, finding her way down to a dismal region her eyes had never seen. Reaching the bottom of the stair- way the first object she came in contact with was "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 129 the cell door. Finding it fast, she gently rapped; whereupon a feeble voice within said: "Who comes there?" "Fannie Brown," was the soft response. "Fannie! Fannie!" exclaimed Josephine, in a tone of astonishment, "whence comest thou, and what brings thee here at this hour of the night?" "To seek thee, Josephine, and for the sake of Charles Clinton, I come."' "Charles Clinton!" said the imprisoned girl, passionately, "tell me, does he still live?" "He yet lives and loves; and thinks and talks but of Josephine." "Then am I happy, though locked in this dun- geon cell, and reckoned unworthy the free air and light of heaven!" "But tell me, Josephine, why are you here de- tained? What meanstthis cruel imprisonment?" "By order of my confessor, priest Dupee, I'm con- fined in this horrid cell; for what, I know not; unless it is my unwillingness to sign away my right to the estate of which I am the lawful and only heir." "Is it your desire, Josephine, to leave the Con- vent?" "Gladly would I fly from it as from perdition! No one can imagine what I've suffered here; and still less, what crimes T've witnessed!" Fannie spent most of the night in conversation with the abused and suffering nun; gave a full ex- planation of the means by which she had gained access to her; and told her of Charles' unhappiness, and his determination to do all within his power to rescue her from priestly hands. page: 130-131[View Page 130-131] 130 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. Returning to her room before any of the nuns were astir in the Convent, Fannie was careful to avoid awakening suspicion. Putting on a compos- ed air in the presence of the Abbess next morning, she said: "I'll go to the village to-day, and will return again this evening." Going straightway to Charles, Fannie informed him of her success; of Josephine's wish to leave the cloister, and of the shameful treatment she was receiving. Kindled to fury, and driven to almost reckless desperation, by this information, he armed himself with deadly weapons, and intended immediately setting out alone for St. Mary's. Fannie opposed the measure as rash and impolitic, saying: "Let us manage the affair thus:-I'll go back to the Con- vent; the Abbess expects me this evening, and will have no suspicions; at midnight, you approach the outer door and rap lightly; I being within can un- lock it and admit you. Then we'll proceed softly through the hall, and I'll conduct you to Josephine's prison. Have with you something by which we can force an entrance through the door of the dun- geon." "I approve your advice, Fannie," said Charles, "and will put on patience if I can; 'tis better we use policy; yet I would the hour were come! Ex- pect me at midnight." * * * * * * * * Midnight came: Fannie was standing like a sen- tinel, near the outer door, awaiting in breathless suspense the signal. It came-a gentle rap was heard on the door; Fannie drew the bolt, and Charles entered. "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 131 Without exchanging a word they stealthily made their way through the hall, and down the winding stairway. Arriving at the cell, they were astonish- ed to hear the plaintive voice of Josephine within, pleading with some one to spare her. Impatient to snatch the innocent being from the grasp of a fiend, Charles, at a stroke, burst the door asunder, and in a moment confronted priest Dupee, who stood speechless and motionless with terror. Jo- sephine, bathed in tears, a moment gazed upon Charles, then wildly threw her arms about his neck; while locked in each other's embrace, Dupee managed to make his escape, greatly to the regret of Charles, who intended at least severely chastis- ing him. Taking the emaciated Josephine in his arms, Charles hastened up the long stairway, fol- lowed by Fannie, who carried a dimly burning lamp she had picked up in the cell, and which served to facilitate their progress. As they approx- imated the outer door, they were met by Dupee and a low-bred, robust looking Irishman; each flourish- ing heavy clubs, and declaring vengeance. Comnmitting Josephine to the care of Fannie Charles hastily drew his pistol and fired at Dupee, whom he slightly wounded,-the ball passing through his right ear close to his head. The terri- fied priest cried. "Murder!" and dropping his club. took to his heels; and after him fled the Irishman, who echoed-"Murther!" Unwilling that the latter should escape unscath- ed, Charles seized the club which had fallen from the hands of the priest, and hurled it at the flying serf, which felled him to the floor. page: 132-133[View Page 132-133] 132 LGHT, MORE LIGHT. 132 LwuT3 NOP-F- Again taking Josephine in his arms, Charles has- tened from the Convent. Having brought with him a horse and buggy, which he had left a few rods off, the three were soon seated in the vehicle, whiandch rapidly whirling away towards Prairie city, which they in safety reached before the morning dawn. napthr 15A Blanch Alpine, Lizzie Allen, and Helen Ashton forsake the Convent-A priest in dishabille-Tragi-comedy. NOT long after the events related in the preced- ing chapter, Blanch Alpine, who many years had been a nun at "St. Mary's of the Woods," forsook the cloister. Making her escape in the night time, she unmolested found her way to Prairie City. Learning that Josephine Elbridge and Isadora Greenwood were staying at Mr. Brown's, Fannie's home, she went immediately there. The three young ladies just mentioned, readily recognizing her, were no less rejoiced than astonished to see Blanch Alpine, whom they had thought a confirm- ed recluse, out of the cloister. Blanch hesitated not to disclose the cause of her apostacy; alleging that the impurity and baseness of the priests who visited the nunnery, and heard confessions in the cloister, had shaken her faith. In the course of their conversation relative to the Convent, Fannie remarked:- "I cannot but feel deeply concerned for Lizzie Allen and Helen Ashton. And to see that their Protestant parents and friends, after a brief opposi- tion, have at last become reconciled to leave them (133) page: 134-135[View Page 134-135] 134 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. in gloomy, miserable seclusion, tries my patience beyond endurance. Nor will I rest satisfied until some effort be made to get those poor girls away from that wretched place." "Quite sure am I," said Blanch, "they are al- ready dissatisfied and unhappy." "The more easily then might they be persuaded to abandon the cloister." "I wish, Fannie," observed Josephine, " you could have an opportunity of conversing with them. But after what has happened, there's no chance of your gaining admission again; and if there were, you'd not be safe." "They are vile assassins," remarked Isadora, with emphasis, " none of us dare show ourselves there again on any errand." "A scheme, which seems to me practicable," remarked Fannie Brown, in a spirited tone, "just strikes my mind- and very forcibly." ' What is it, Fannie?" quickly remarked Joseph- ine, her eye kindling with hope, "I must have con- fidence in whatever you propose." "'Tis this: Blanch having been absent but a few hours, could, doubtless, by framing some apology, get back into the cloister; and if Lizzie and Helen will consent to be secret, and to have an interview with me, an hour might be agreed upon for the same,-a late hour of the night, when you, meeting me at the entrance door, could let me in." ' Agreed!" exclaimed Blanch, clapping her hands in ecstacy, " the plan will work well; I'll go back immediately." Upon her return to the Convent, Blanch found "GHT, MORE LIGHT. some difbiculty it I laucg the suspicions of the Ab- by consenting to wear beans in her shoesfo a term of months. her oes for She lost no time in compleing the arraement with Helen and Lizzie--whom she found willing to see, and have an interview with Fannie Brown, in whom they each reposed the utmost confidence Before leaving Prairie City, Bla nch had agreed with XCharles Clinton upon an hour in the night when she would be at the Convent gate ready to give information with regardto er succes. They a - cordingly met, and fixed-upon twelve o'clock the folowing night for Fannie's admission to the Cloister. All things succeeded well. Shortly after the old Convent clock tolled the midnight hour, F ie Was led by Blanch Alpine into the apartment of the nuns, Lizzie and elen, who ere awaiting with anxiety her arrival. When they had affectionately embraced, Fannie said: "Think not strange, my loves, that I come unbidden, and at this silent hour of the night; you know full well I've ever loved you,--loved you dearly! 'Tis this hath brought me here. Ofti le grieved to think you unhappy. Shut up in, tiis cheerless Convent, it canhot be otherise than that You are discontent and wretched. Deny it not, dear Lizzie; seek not to disguise it, DIelen: I ead it in your lopks; 'tis written on those sweet faces, once lighted with smiles and radiant with joy; but now, alas, olercast by sadness and melancholy! Wi mbyou, can you longer consent thus to pine in this horrible prison?"i page: 136-137[View Page 136-137] 136 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT "O, Fannie!" exclaimed Helen, "persuade us not to disregard and cast off our solemn vows;- 'twould ruin our souls- sink us lower than the grave;-aye, to hopeless death, fire and pain." "I entreat you, dearest, entertain not for a mo- ment the thought, that the unlawful 'vows you've taken are at all binding upon you." "Before God have we vowed; therefore must we keep them inviolate, however wretched we may be." "But a delusion, Helen! but a delusion! The violation of vows so wicked and unnatural could not be violating ought that's sacred." "Say not so, Fannie; at the peril of our souls we dare not pass the Convent gates."' "How can you believe the adorable Creator brought you into being for no higher obj ect, no nobler purpose than that of filling a living grave? Here you're cut off from the sympathies of life, and all opportunities of doing good. If piety can better be promoted within the sombre walls of a Convent, why is the world without made& so beautifully fair? If heaven intended we should be cheerless and mis- erable, why is not every flower a thorn; every sweet a bitter; every breath a draught of pestilence; eve- ry sound discord? O, why should everything beau- tiful and lovely be sacrificed at the shrine of reli- gion?" Fannie continued to reason with and persuade them at great length. Though unsuccessful in her attempts to convince them that their vows might be thrown off without incurring guilt, she despaired not of finally gaining her object; and before taking her leave obtained their consent to visit them again. "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 137 After their esteemed visitor had departed, the following conversation ensued between Lizzie and "I felt the force of her reasoning, Lizzie; and it is a question we are certainly at a loss to answer: Why should such a life'es we here lead,--a life of utter wretchedness,-conduce to our salvation?', "Think of it Helen: shall we peril the eternal salvation of our souls, to gain the short-lived joys of earth? Transient in duration, and unsatisfying in their possession are the brightest treasures the world can bestow! The giddy cup of pleasure ex- hilarates for a time,-but if to sip it, we must in- cur eternal sorrow, shall we put it to our lips? Rather let us consent to a life of obscurity, sorrow and sighing, that we may gain heaven hereafter." "If denying ourselves enjoyment in the present state be necessary to our salvation, how can others be saved without foregoing the same? How are priests to be saved, who deny themselves no earthly gratification?" "Be that as it may, Helen, we have voluntarily taken upon ourselves the monastic vows, and must therefore learn to'endure with patience the life they impose." ' Unwilling obedience is little better than to- disobey. What shall our souls be profited by an external conformity to what our vows enjoin, while our hearts are not in it? In turning away from life's richest blessings, 'tis not from my heart I do "But it should be. Were every day of our life on earth full of sunshine, and replete with pleas- 12 page: 138-139[View Page 138-139] ures,-when past 'twould be but a golden dream, a gilded vision! And what would the splendid en- chantment be worth, when succeeded by an unend- ing night-sunless, moonless, starless night?" Alas, how difficult to strike from the soul the manacles of superstition! Fannie, with un- wearied patience and perseverance, continued nightly to repeat her visits; and to urge with un- abating zeal every argument she conceived calcu- lated to influence their minds in favor of truth, and in breaking through the shackles of false religion. Finding that Lizzie, particularly, had imbibed- deeply' imbibed-the absurd sentiment, that to please God it was necessary mortals should render themselves miserable, she sought ardently to disa- buse her blinded mind in that regard. With much warmth, on one occasion, she said: "O, why should the enjoyment of earthly blessings be thought incompatible with a life of holiness! No longer, I entreat you, turn away from the innocent pleasures which your pure, warm hearts so much crave; fear not forfeiting heaven by maling your- selves happy. Priests may tell you that the pleas- ures of sense corrupt the soul; they teach self- denial to others. but when do they practice it themselves? They promise you heaven-but on the hardest possible conditions;-and for their own advantage,-that they may revel in all the luxuries of sensual life." Fannie, after long and kindly persuasion, gained the consent of Helen and Lizzie to leave the Con- vent. But by the time she had succeeded in this, "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 139 the suspicions of the Abbess, by some means, be- came aroused, and it was found necessary to pro- ceed with great caution. * -* . * * * It was on a moonlight night; white, fleecy clouds floated across the blue sky, casting their fleeting shadows upon the ground; all was quiet, and a deep silence prevailed within and around the convent of St. Mary's. Elizabeth Allen and Helen Ashton were standing at the threshold of their sleeping apartment, trembling in every nerve, and awaiting a summons that was to break their monastic vows, take them from the cloister and call down upon their unoffending heads the anathemas of the Church. With noiseless foot-fall Fannie Brown was approaching the outer door; a heavy rap without, startled her; receding a few paces, she said to herself in a soft whisper-," That can't be Charles! The signal agreed upon was three light raps without, to be answered by a like number within. I must conceal myself; the Abbess lodges in a room near by; should she awake I may be discovered." Now came another rap-louder than the first. A gliding figure passed from the apartment occu- pied by the Abbess, as if to answer the call. The outer door opened; and a man in priestly attire was admitted. After some whispering, the two entered the room whence had issued the gliding figure. "Looks a little suspicious!" whispered Fannie to herself, " but the priestly garb precludes the thought of anything earthly;-a spiritual affair, no doubt." page: 140-141[View Page 140-141] "O LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. Rap! rap! rap! now lightly fell on Fannie's ear from the entrance door. "That's Charles!" she mentally exclaimed, and tripping along, gave response by tapping three times upon the door within; then opening it, found Charles, Josephine and Isadora, ready to carry out their purpose. "All right, Fannie?" enquired Charles. "Be cautious," whispered Fannie, "the Abbess lodges in an apartment near by; and I've good reason to think her not asleep. Where's your vehicle?" "Under the shadow of yon spreading locust tree." "For fear of discovery, let Josephine and Isadora repair to the carriage; and you, Charles, better stand within, so as to escape observation, should anything occur to render it necessary. Blanch Alpine remains in the hall, ready at my bidding to notify Lizzie and Helen: I'll now go to her." As Fannie tripped away, Charles heard a female voice say: "That must have been the door bolt; I certainly heard it creak. Mr. Dupee, I'm grow- ing suspicious of that singular girl, Blanche Alpine." "Ah, Dupee on hands?" said Charles to himself, "Lucky I brought my carriage whip; may have to use it in a way I'd not thought of." \ "What's in the wind, worthy Abbess?" said a male voice. "Hard to tell; don't know but Blanch is coaxing some of the nuns to leave the Convent." "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 14 "I must look out for that." "Hark! I hear light footsteps in the hall! My suspicions scent the right direction. But what's to be done? It must'nt be known that you're in my chamber at this hour of the night." "It will not do to let them escape, consequences be what they may! I'll manage to impress their minds by some manaeuver, that my timely appear- ance is nothing short of a miracle, to prevent them violating their vows." "Upon my life, they're going out!" Do you a say o?" "Yes,-but stop! stop! you're in dishabille; put something on, for decency's sake. You look like a fright! Here, take this. 'Tis but my short gown after all! Wait! wait!" "Let go, for heaven's sake! I must overtake them." And off he went in hot haste, determined to arrest the fugitives, let his plight be what it might. It's quite impossible to conceive anything more ludicrous than was the appearance of the ungainly priest without his unmcntionables, and wearing upon his shoulders the Superior's short gown. Charles Clinton overhearing what had passed be- tween Dupee and his paramour, concluded to re- main concealed until the priest should pass out, then follow close at his heels. When Fannie and the nuns accompanying her, had advanced within a little distance of the locust, under the shadow of which the carriage Was con- cealed, they halted; and turning round to see what had become of Charles, the frightful looking. figure page: 142-143[View Page 142-143] "2 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. of a man in dishabille by moonlight, met their wondering gaze. Blanch, involuntarily exclaimed: "St. Mary! in the name of all that's marvelous, what hobgoblin is that?" Suddenly pausing, the priest, with hands uplift- ed to heaven, thus ejaculated: "Great God, I thank thee for this miracle, whereby I'm brought in the twinkling of an eye to the rescue of these precious souls, whom Satan tempts to cast off their most holy vows. Spare, O, spare the rebels this once. Withhold thy dread thunderbolts-" Whack! whack! went Charles' whip; taking effect upon the denuded legs of Dupee, giving his holiness quite an unexpected hoist in the world, and bringing his pompous prayer to an abrupt and unceremonious close. There followed so sudden a transition from the lofty attitude and eloquent harangue of the priest, to that of making straight skirts for a place of safety as fully to-exemplify the truth of the remark--"Between the sublime and the ridiculous, there lies but a single step." Not knowing whence came the blow;-stung, confused and frightened,--he wheeled about to take flight, and in his haste, thought not of holding on to his loose wrapper; bounding away like a wild antelope, he left his borrowed gown upon the wind. The light skirt of his nether garment, swinging off to a horizontal position, like the flag of a fast sailing vessel, offered a tempting mark under its fluttering folds to the keen lash of Charles' whip, which adroitly handled and vigorously applied, kissed him sweetly every jump-the while, ejacu- "GHT, MORE LIGHT. "3 lating: "S Peter! St. Paul! Saints and martyrs all!" Severely peppered and terrified out of his wits, hereached the threshold of the Convent, which he entered with a yelp and a howl, that induced all within to think surely the devil was let loose again. The setting in of this tragi-conedy, quickly dissi- pated the fears of the young ladies---changing tCt k page: 144-145[View Page 144-145] Early life of Dupee--.His relationship to Bedini--Their boy- hood associations-Immoral habts--Colloquy between r. and Mrs. Foresti. Dupee having figured c9nspicuousy in the pre- ceeding pages, and there being no better repre- sentative of the Jesuit clan thanhe, it may not be unacceptable to the reader to have, by way of epi- sode, some account of his early histor and how it was he grew to be so great a vilrlain. In pre- senting this sketch, it will be necessary to bring forward several new characters not yet introduced Priest Dupee was a native of Italy; born in a suburb of the city of Rome. His father, an igno- rant Papist, forsook his family to become a monk, and led an idle, indolent life, under the pretence of seeking eminent piet, and being en tirely devot- ed to religion-a thing very common in all Catholic countries ed wife and Of the manner in hich the neglected wife and mother amelioratedher condition, I is best not t3 speak. The onsequence was, this first son, whose name was Felix, at an early age fell among the baser sort, and learned vicious and dissipated hab- its. From childhood surrounded by pernicious in (144) "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 145 fluences, and having constantly before him the worst examples, it can scarcely be thought strange that he grew up to be the artful and treacherous Jesuit already described. Whatever Dupee may have been by nature, such associations, and such an education, could hardly have produced a better man. True, a mind and heart by nature noble and exalted, may awhile resist the debasing and corrupting influen- ces of evil communications and vicious society-but not always. Forever in contact with that which tends to polute the mind and lead' the heart astray, an angel Would scarcely be secure. Perhaps I've heretofore neglected to mention that Dupee was a cousin to Bedini, the bloody butcher of Bologna. The history of the former is so interwoven with the life and career of the lat- ter, that it will become necessary to say something also of the inhuman monster, who was guilty of the death of Ugo Bassi. Though it be no pleasing task to speak of so vile a wretch as Bedini, yet 'tis one I've no disposition to shun, since by the most perfidious acts, and bas- est conduct, he has rendered himself so deserving universal execration and the world's scorn. Be- sides, 'tis but proper the American people should know more than they've yet generally learned of the private life and public conduct of an impudent, arrogant foreigner, who has lately been in our midst, producing civil discord wherever he went; yet demanding of this government, with unheard of effrontery, an honorable reception-a tribute of national respect, and the meed of homage, because, 13 L - . ' page: 146-147[View Page 146-147] forsooth, of his exalted rank in the Theocratic Heirarchy. Dupee and Bedini being associated together as they were from boyhood, it is by no means strange there should appear, in the complexion of their moral characters, a striking similarity. If any difference existed between them in this respect, Dupee was less base, brutal and unfeeling than the other. As to intellect, shrewdness and cunning, Dupee was decidedly superior to his cousin. The latter, as well as the former, was sadly neglected in childhood and youth, and placed in a condition well calculated to mould a character utterly desti- tute of every amiable quality, and work the deepest depravity of heart. Being of poor, obscure, and I might add of doubtful parentage, he was cast upon the world a ragged, filthy urchin; and went un- controlled and uncared for, leading an indolent, vicious, and miserable life; consequently grew up to manhood worthless, i.:'orant and dissipated-as did Dupee, his boon companion in vice and crime. These fellows, while yet lads, were one day ex- ceedingly goaded by hunger, having been unable i to steal or to beg a sufficiency to satisfy the crav- ings of appetite; at length they chanced to enter the house of a Mr. Foresti, whose wife was remark- able for her great benevolence to the poor and suffering; Foresti was a Catholic, but his wife pro- fessed no faith in the Romish religion. Felix leading the way, addressed the lady thus: "Good woman, for the sake of the Holy Virgin Mary, mother of Jesus, give us food! Unable to obtain employment, we are perishing of hunger." -. . -, .^... luarT 147 The tender sympathies of Mrs. Foresti were at once excited; and she hastened to set before the miserable looking mendicants, the best provisions in her house. Like starved hounds they fell to eating, giving no less evidence by their ations than they had by words, of being hungry. Touched with pity, the generous-hearted woman, aside, said to her husband: "Mr. Foresti, can we not give employment to these poor lads?' "I'll venture my life on it," replied the husband "they've no wish for employment, unless 'twere to do some devilment.'" 'Surely they will gladly accept .of something to do, whereby their condition may be ameliorated. At any rate it would be an act of charity3 to afford them an opportunity."' "My dear," replied Mr. Foresti, alittle impa- tiently, "I want no such reprobate, scare-crow. looking fellows about me." "As for that, I can soon improve their appear- ance; of course I wouldn't allow them to wear such rags, and go unwashed and uncombed as they now do. We might be able to teach them habits of cleanliness and decency. That, yeu know, is a great thing, yu knows a "Yes, and a mighty great undertaking. Nor am I just now in the humor to set about it. I'd as soon think of taming a wild ass colt, as to at- tempt civilizing either one of them chaps. Is plain to be seen they're two young devils; and if they'er never hanged, I'm a false prophet." C- , page: 148-149[View Page 148-149] "Predict no evil;-hope for the best." "That Felix Dupee, as he calls himself, is a real snake in the grass; the other has less cunning, but has more of the dog in him." "I know they are depraved, and untutored as the wild Arab; but we must consider that in all their lives, they've had, perhaps, not one whole- some lesson of instruction. What then could we expect of them?" "Sure enough, that's what I want to know- what could we expect? I expect having nothing to do with stragglers of whom we can nothing ex- pect." "But however degraded, they are not beyond the reach of hope.!' "No-nor the reach of a rope." "They may be redeemed." "Doubtful.' ' Any how, 'iis worth the trial." "They'd better be packed off to purgatory where they belong. Only consider how many thousands of such boys there are in the city of Rome; look at the gangs of beggars we daily meet on the street; and it is so throughout all Italy. QOn every hand we see multitudes of idle, dissipated, anamalized young men and boys, who depend for subsistence on begging, stealing, and robbing! You'll have your hands full, at least, if you undertake to reform the habits, and improve the condition of all who need it." "Alas, I know 'tis so; and the very facts to which you refer, Mr. Foresti-the deplorable ignorance, and consequent viciousness of the youth of this "IauT, MORE LIGHT. i49 country, cause me to be astonished that the Pope is forever taxing us here, in order to build up schools and colleges in the United ]States, when such in- stitutions are so much needed in our own country." There it is again; always finding fault with his holiness, the Pope, and seeking occasion to slur the Church." "Say not so, my dear husband; never have I been disposed to wound your feelings: yet I speak of things that look strange to me. I dare say yo cannot yourselfi be blind to the glaring inconsis- tency of sending so much money fromthis benighted land, where more than nine-tenths of the popula- tion are entirely illiterate, and destitute of the means of knowledge, to another nation, abundant- ly more blessed with educational advantages. Throughout the United States the people are sup- plied with free schools; and the poor are educated as well as the rich. Were down-trodden Italy fa- vored, as is America, with public schools, we should behold less degradation, idleness, vice and misery in our midst." "But suppose, thereby, heresy should be intro- duced, and thousands led away from the true faith?" "A religion that can't stand the light, ought to fall; let such a system be turned out of doors and given to the winds!" Yes, yes, no doubt all such heretics as you would lik e the holy Catholic religion given to the winds." "If education, as you allow, makes heretics, why is it the hierarchy puts forth such strenuous efforts page: 150-151[View Page 150-151] 150 LGrrT, MORE LGHTr. to multiply institutions of learning beyond the At- lantic?" "It is found the readiest way of gaining a foot- hold in that country, to establish schools and Ac- ademies. The Catholic clergy could wield no influence among the Americans without showing themselves favorable to education. There they have schools connected with their nunneries, and by a wise policy induce many Protestants to send their children to them to be educated; thereby a great many, it is said, are won over to the faith. Besides their schools furnish employment for nuns, and are sources of considerable income to the Church," "Then you own that 'tis not for the purpose of enlightening, unfolding and improving the mind, that the Catholic clergy are establishing institutions of learning in America; but the profit, credit and influence thereby secured?" "The object is, of course, to build up the Church: and by whatever means that can be accomplished, they are satisfied. When the Catholic clergy of the United States get things pr erly into their own hands, they'll not want so mai schools." "No, I reckon not; but God forbid they ever should get things into their own hands, in that free and heaven-favored country! I'd weep to think that glorious land of liberty should ever bow the neck to Papal despotism!" "You presume too much, Mrs. Foresti, on the benevolence of my nature; I doubt if there's anoth- er Catholic husband in Rome, or in all Italy, to whom a wife could with impunity say as much "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 151 against the Church as you repeatedly and habitu- ally utter in my hearing. 'Tis unaccountable, that you dare speak so freely, when you know it be- comes my religious duty to inform against you." "Such a duty, my love, I'm well satisfied you possess too much of 'the milk of human kindness' ever to discharge." "The thought of having you brought before the holy Inquisition is heart-rending to me!" "You'd risk hell first, my darling?" "Nothing so much grieves me as the hereby and republican principles that poison your mind." "I own that I'm a heretic and a republican, in the estimation of Rome; and I rejoice in it!" "It shocks me to hear you say so; for lighter of- fen'ses, many have been condemned to torture and death." "Doubtless! and that very thing is a terrible argument against Popery: a religion that so hardens the heart and destroys natural affection, cannot be of heaven. Your kind forbearance toward me, as a heretic, only proves that the blind- ing superstition, and the vindictive and sanguinary spirit of Romanism, has not struck in upon you so deeply as upon most Catholics." "Say, rather, that my forbearance toward you is owing to my weakness, and want of fidelity to the Church and to the vicar of Christ." " I glory in such weakness and infidelity, as makes a man a man! rather than a beast or a demon. What, but a beast or demon, could see his wife or his child in the hands of bloody-minded and relentless inquisitors? Yet there are in Rome i page: 152-153[View Page 152-153] 152 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. husbands and fathers, that have turned informants, and dragged their own wives and their own child- ren before that infernal spiritual court, to suffer chains, imprisonment, the dungeon and the rack!. Among Catholics, you are one of a thousand, whose humanity is to be trusted when Popery is in question; those who adopt the monstrous faith, rarely resist so long and well its blighting and withering effects upon the generous feelings and noble impulses of the heart. But enough of this: now what about these unfortunate boys?" "I care not." "They may be susceptible, at least, of some im- provement." "Well, take them into the garden, if you choose, and see if they'll work." Ever delighted with opportunities of doing good, and of extending a helping-hand to downtrodden humanity, Mrs. Foresti hastened to inform the lads, who by this time had glutted themselves to the satisfying of their voracious appetites, that they could have employment, and a chance of earning an honorable living. The good lady was a little surprised at the apparent indifference with which the destitute creatures received the intelli- gence; they however followed her to the garden, and according to her directions went to work with the implements she furnished them. Returning to the house quite elated, she said to her husband: "I'll make men of them boys, Mr. Foresti, see if I don't." "I'll see if you do: but expect to see you don't." "' They may astonish you." "GTrr, MORE LIGHT. 153 "I'll be most astonished, if they do not astonish you.' "They went to work like fine fellows; depend upon it, there's a come-out in them." "I wish it may be so, my dear; I know you are generally in the right in all matters except religion -and it grieves me much that you're a heretic in that." Saying this, he stepped to a back window to take another peep at the hopeful lads, whom, he began to feel, might be more promising than he at first had imagined. "Sure enough, Mrs. Foresti, I begin to think you hit the mark, when you said there was a come- out in them chaps, for they've come out of the garden already. Ah! look yonder, what ragged scamps are them I see going full speed down yon alley, with hoes on their shoulders? They look very like the fellows you're about to make men of." "It can't be possible they've run away so soon!" "Yes, my word for it, the little devils have ab- sconded, and stolen your hoes in the bargain. Ha! ha! I reckoned on something of that sort-by no means astonished, since you're astounded. How you open your eyes, my dear! just waked up, haven't you? Ah!you would believe they were angels-lacking only the wings! And you'd have thought they were not altogether without wings either, had you seen their rags flying in the wind, as I did just now!" "Poor, depraved beilgs!" exclaimed the lady, looking sorrowful, "I pity them more than ever." "Pity them? now that's singular! I suppose page: 154-155[View Page 154-155] 154 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT, then, if they should come back, and steal a couple more hoes, you'd double your pity on them. Let me get hold of the scape-gallowses-I'll pity them with a vengeance!" "Only consider how the unhappy mortals have been brought up!" "I'd rather consider how they're to be brought down." "Thinl' of their miserable opportunities!" "I'm sure you gave them a most gracious oppor- tunity; nor did they fail to improve it. Those im- plements they carried off will buy whiskey enough to keep them drunk a whole week. That's what you get, by trying to rob the devil of his own; 'tis no use-you might as well expect "-Auld Nickie-ben Wad tak a thought, An' men'." I saw at a glance the mark of Cain upon them!" "It's the want of instruction-that's all. Educa tion and discipline are indispensable; without which, there is no salvation for children, at least none in this lower world." ' Always harping on education-the necessity of education! As if it were intended for the com- mon people; what use have such hedgehogs as you fed here just now, so bountifully, and who re, paid you with treachery and theft,-what use, I say, have they for education?" "A great deal of use--it would transform them!" "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 155 "Yes, from sinners to reprobates- from little devils to big ones!" "Education has no such tendency." "It has not upon those for whom it is intended." "Heaven intended education for all." "But the devil intends to be the schoolmaster of the majority." "No doubt, he'll educate those whom Church and State neglect. An empty, idle head is Satan's work-shop." "You couldn't beat education into the brains of them tarnal boys with a sledge-hammer!" "But you might with books and kind words." "It's no use talking-the Pope and his councils have decided that learning is not for the masses." "Yes, and in that, have given incontestible proof that they themselves are asses." "Oh' horror!" exclaimed the husband, raising his hands imploringly, and starting wildly from his seat, as if shocked to the center of his soul. "What! a stitch in your side?" said Mrs. Foresti, a little provokingly, "Freely would I part with all I possess on earth, to have you become a true believer." But if I can't believe Romanism, how can I? I can't without I can--can I?" "Many a one has been compelled to believe." "Compelled, rather, to profess belief." "Ah, if you were once to see and feel the curling flames kindling about you, you'd be glad to believe." "Can belief be forced by fire and fagot? 'Tis an easy matter to profess to believe what we do not; page: 156-157[View Page 156-157] 156 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. but of what account is an empty profession? it may deceive priests, bat God knoweth what is in the heart. Nothing can be conceived of more prepos- terous, than the idea of coercing belief, and pro- ducing faith in the mind by torturing the body." Foresti shook his head despairingly, and turned away with downcast looks, saying to himself- "Incorrigible! incorrigible!" , l4apttr 17+ How it happened that Dupee and Bedini got to be priests- The cause of their subsequent promotion--Mrs. Foresti dragged before the Inquisition-Suffers death for reading and concealing interdicted books. FROM boyhood to manhood steeped in crime- constantly devising mischief, and plotting schemes of devilment, Dupee and Bedini naturally became fit instruments for any undertaking that required a sacrifice of honor, principle and conscience. Such men readily find favor in the eyes of tyrants, when they need tools for servile and despicable purposes. A Jesuit priest of/ome sagacity, by chance mak- ing the acquainta e of Dupee, about the time he had arrived a he age of manhood, thought he discoveredi him admirable talent for subserving the inte ests of the holy order, and immediately laid before him inducements to enter the priesthood, and take the Jesuit's oath. To yield to these soli- citations, Dqpee's habits of idleness inclined him, so he was suddenly metamorphosed into a priest of the Jesuit stamp. Now unwilling to be sepa- rated from his companion in wickedness, and also desiring to have a tool, while he himself consented to become such in the hands of others, he opened 157 i page: 158-159[View Page 158-159] 158 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. the way in a very short time for Bedini to enter the priesthood and also the Order of Jesuits. That they might be the better qualified to prac- tice the arts of Jesuitism, the necessity-of acquiring a knowledge of letters was urged upon them. This seemed an onerous task-especially to Bedi- ni; yet in the course of a few years they both suc- ceeded in acquiring education enough to read and write. With these attainments they were satis- fied, as respected literature and science. The city of Rome, and indeed the whole country, being overrun with indolent, idle, and destitute priests, who received but a scanty support and precarious living, Dupee conceived the ideaof ren- dering some signl, service to the Pope, in order to gain promotion; for he found that to be a priest without being a favorite of the sovereign Pontiff, was no great advantage. Putting himself on the look-out to perform some feat in Jesuitical artifice, he was not long in find- ing a case to try his hand. A rumor had somehow got afloat, that certain of Martin Luther's books, favorable to the reformation in the sixteenth cen- tury, were being read and circulated among a class of citizens who had sometime been suspected of holding republican and Protestant principles. Seizing eagerly the opportunity, Dupee set about ferreting out the matter-and showed himself ex- ceedingly zealous in hunting down the vile heretics who should dare possess, and presume to read, books which had been condemned and interdicted by his holiness the Pope. Those who had in their possession the proscribed "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 159 works, chanced to make the discovery that Dupee was acting the spy: taking alarm, they collected all the interdicted books together, and concealed them in the house of a widow, whom they thought in no danger of being suspected. The widow, it may be here observed, was the be- nevolent Mrs. Foresti, whose acquaintance the reader has previously made-and whose husband was now deceased. Discovering he was regarded with suspicion, and on that account not likely to make the desired dis- covery, Dupee set his wits to work and conceived another stratagem, on which he thus soliloquized: "I'll go to Bedini and put him on the track; he's not sharp, but I can drill him into some shrewd- ness. He shall go in the character of a blind beg- gar; a pair of goggles over his eyes will do to in- dicate his blindness -but he musn't be totally blind; for then it would seem too miraculous for him to travel alone-let him profess to discern ob- jects dimly; in that condition he may with impu- nity go lounging about from house to house; and should no one suspicion him, he'll stand a fair chance to catch some heretic reading the odious books. That I may not lose the honor of it, nor miss the reward which the Pope decrees to infor- mants, it must be understood between us that he return immediately to me in case he gets a clue to the whereabouts of any such books, that I may stand foremost in the affair." In a very few days the plan was all arranged be- tween Bedini and himself. After being properly advised and severely drilled, Bedini was suitably page: 160-161[View Page 160-161] X iO LIGrT, MORE LIGHT. disguised for playing the part of a blind beggar, and set forth on his execrable mission. Known to no one in the vicinity whither Dupee instructed him to go, and having by no means an inferior gift for, dissembling, Bedini passed from house to house without the slightest suspicion being awakened as to his being other than what he seemed. Alms were freely bestowed upon him by the suspected heretics; he was kindly entertained, and allowed the privilege of tarrying at their houses as long as he chose. His efforts to discover the hated books turning out fruitless in every probable place, he at last wdnt to the house of Mrs. Foresti, whom he readily recognized as the lady who had fed Dupee and himself when they were lads, and whose garden utensils they had stolen in return for her charity. Mrs. Foresti, however, had no recollection of him. Of course, he had no disposition to make himself known, but humbly asked liberty to tarry a few days, as he was homeless and. destitute. The benevolent woman hesitated not to grant his request, and did all she could to make him comfortable. One afternoon throwing himself carelessly upon a lounge, he pretended to fall asleep, and began to snore, in the meantime keeping watch of his hostess. He discovered her stealthily take a book from an old chest which stood in one corner of the room where he was lounging; then going to a re- mote part of the house she sat down, turning her back upon the sleeper, or rather the spy, and open- ing the book began silently to peruse its pages. Raising himself softly from his recumbent pos- "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 161 ture, Bedini crept slily along till he was able to look over the lady's shoulder into the open book she held before her. Satisfying himself that it was one of the interdicted works, the intruder re- ceded as stealthily as he had approached. He perhaps could not have escaped her observation had it not happened at the moment that one of her children, a little girl of three years, was fond- ling upon her, throwing her tiny arms about her ma's neck, and playing with her luxuriant curls; this probably prevented the slight noise made by Bedini's approach from attracting the attention of Mrs. Foresti. Exulting in his success, the un- grateful wretch hurried to Dupee to make report of his discovery. s * * * A* * The arrest of Mrs. Foresti-the manner of it- the heartless proceedings of the Inquisition-her sentence and execution, present too dark and revolting a picture to dwell upon. The reader will gladly excuse me from the painful task of minute description, and no doubt be gratified that I do not here draw aside the curtain to exhibit all the horrid features of the barbarous scene, and set forth in detail the heart-sickening tragedy. The fate of Mrs. Foresti was that of many others in Papal countries, who have had the misfortune to fall into the hands of Inquisitors. With miraculous fortitude and unparalleled heroism she endured the cruel death to which she was condemned by the spiritual court. When led to the stake, she said: To die thus is nothing to the thought of having " page: 162-163[View Page 162-163] my two precious little daughters torn away, to be cast into a convent, robbed of their innocence, arid become the slaves of degraded and brutal priests!" The heretical books found in her possession, the reading and concealing of which constituted her of fense, helped to light the flames that consumed her body. Her estate was confiscated, and became the property of the Church. The informants received their reward, and were soon after promoted: Bedini being sent Internuncio to Brazil, and Dupee a missionary to the United States. Chapitr 218 Bedinirecalled from Brazil in disgrace-Re establishes him- self in favor with the Papal Court by acting the spy- Proves traitor to the Republic--Is guilty of the death of Ugo Bassi. Not long was Bedini destined to wear unsullied his new honors, which sat upon him with so little grace. His secretary, Don Tintori, and every one he took with him in his suite to Brazil abandoned him at the expiration of two months, on account of the dissoluteness of his conduct. The prelates of Brazil made such numerous and loud complaints to the Pope, of Bedini, that he was recalled in a ew months, and ordered to leave immediately without awaiting his successor. Returning to tome, he received a subordinate appointment in he state department as a mark of punishment. t was not long, however, till he managed to re- !stablish himself in favor with Ale Papal court, nd cause his vices to be overlooked. This he ac- omplished by again acting the spy. To pass over umerous acts of servility and intrigue which erved to ingratiate him with the Pope, we will roceed to notice that of his basely proving traitor o the Republic, of which he was a subject in 1849, nd becoming the spy of the Pope in the city of (163) page: 164-165[View Page 164-165] 164 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. Bologna, for which crime, according to the laws sanctioned by all nations, he should have suffered an ignominious death. There were at Bologna two regiments of Swiss, numbering about 4000, who were in the service of the Republic. Bedini took upon himself the mis- sion of going in disguise to Bologna in order to corrupt the Swiss, and induce them to leave the service of the Republic. The Swiss proved incor- ruptible, and Bedini redoubled his seduction and promises; but the whole affair was soon discover- ed. The city was alarmed, and the surrounding towns put on their guard,-for Bedini's instructions were that the Swiss should open themselves a path by force, collect by threats the most money they possibly could in the towns through which they were to pass, and carry it to the Pope. The governor of Bologna, in his too great clemency, allowed Bedini, the infamous spy, to escape. The republican government, becoming fearful of the regiments, owing to what had pass- ed, ordered them to be immediately disbanded. "And it is a curious circumstance," remarks an Italian, ; that of all the soldiers thus set at liber- ty, nbt one returned to the service of the Pope." But this crime in Bedini, though worthy of death, was nothing, compared with the brutality and infernal malignity he displayed in the assassi- nation and torture of Ugo Bassi, a man of un- common talent and virtue, who had been taken captive, and placed as a political prisoner at the disposal of Bedini. ( At that time Bedini was Commissioner Extraor- "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 165 dinary of the Four Legations, which post bestows sovereign power; and holding this post, Bedini was made supreme president of a council, composed of the most infamous of the Pope's police, for judging political crimes. In such high estimation was Ugo Bassi held by the citizens of Bologna, that, even Bedini's vile instruments of barbarous vengeance hesitated. But clothed as he was with sovereign power, Bedini, in person, entered the council-chamber, and ordered that sentence of death be immediately pronounced. This put the whole city in commo- tion, and multitudes interceded for the esteemed Bassi-among whom was the Archbishop Oppiz- zoni; but Bedini proved inexorable, and cited an especial order of the Pope which he had received before Bassi was taken prisoner. The cruel monster was not satisfied with having the patriot put to death, but commanded that he first be flayed alive! Torture for political prisoners, in barbarous ages, was common; but to revives it in the nine- teenth century, was only worthy of Bedini, and his master the Pope of Rome. page: 166-167[View Page 166-167] Bedini, Nuncio to America- Sanfedesti Order-Know Noth- ings-Finale of Dupee. Having shown how it was Bedini rose to emi- nence, without talents, or virtue, and given an account of his scandalous life in Italy, and the shocking inhumanity he displayed toward the re- publicans who were so unfortunate as to fall into his brutal hands at the suppression of the Italian Revolution in '49, I now speak of him as Papal Nuncio to America. In this I'll be brief-wishing to hasten from the contemplation of so despicable a wretch. Upon his arrival in this country, Bedini was re- ceived by Catholic clergy with great eclat. Very nat- urally, curiosity was awakened in the minds of the American people who observed the parade, to know who the distinguished stranger was on whom Papists were bestowing such fulsome flattery and unwonted adulation. Those who made inquiry concerning his mission, were told by Bedini and his friends, that he was Nuncio to Brazil, and was but on his way thither. This was said by some very respectable and intelligent Italian gentlemen, then in New York, to be a fabrication, and made for certain sinister motives, and the disguising of his real mission. (166) "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 167 That these Italians did not entertain groundless suspicions upon the subject subsequent events fully proved: for when, to avoid further exposure, Bedini ran away from this country, he took a ves- sel directly for Europe, instead of going to Brazil. About the time he cowardly skulked away from our shores, it was ascertained that the Pope of Rome had sent him to the United States for two objects, viz: the organization of a secret order of Catholics, called SANFEDESTI; and to wrest from the hands of certain disaffected Catholics in Philadel- phia and Buffalo church property which was their own: but who, contrary to the usage of the Romish Church, held the property in their own names in- stead of giving it up to the priesthood. In the first object, that of setting on foot the San- fedesti order, this agent of the Roman Pontiff succeeded; in the second, he utterly failed. The Italian exiles in New York, and certain dis- affected German Catholics in Philadelphia, say that the Sanfedesti is a more dangerous order to civil and religious liberty than even the Jesuits. At any rate, in Italy, so far, they out-herod Herod, and out-jesuit the Jesuits! Upon his arrival at New York, oBedini took up his quarters with Dupee, his kinsman and old asso- ciate, from whom he had many years been sepa- rated. While conversing together relative to Bedini's mission, Dupee remarked: " Devil take that apostate Gavazzi! I doubt not he'll blow on you all over this country; and these Italian exiles will corroborate his testimony." page: 168-169[View Page 168-169] I'm afraid so," responded Bedini; "I wish they were all hanged, or shared Bassi's fate." ' Gavazzi deserves no better treatment than you awarded that reprobate. You took ample ven- geance upon Bassi." "Ay, did I; it was a triumph-long had I hated him." "' With free good will, no doubt, you signed his death-warrant." "But that was not my greatest pleasure; to have him disconsecrated, and to see him writhe as he was flayed alive, was my exultation." "He must have suffered no less than if you had burnt him at the stake." "I intended it should be no less a punishment than burning alive; but now-a-days burning creates too much sympathy among the people-it's not safe to undertake it, even in Rome." "Was there much feeling awakened in Bologna for Bassi?" "A vast deal; I greatly feared a popular outhreak in his favor; if he had been tortured publicly, there would have been-nothing could have kept it down." "When this thing is charged upon you, which it certainly will be, for Gavazzi knows it all, and so do these exiles, you must sternly deny it, and lustily cry out persecution!-if you don't they'll take your hide off like as not. The cry of perse- cution has a wonderful effect on Americans; beside, there are gangs of office-seekers in all parts of the country, who stand ready to join in any cry that's popular, and most of them are becoming a ltx anxious to get in favor with Catholics, since they are growing strong, and will readily seize upon any pretext to wring in with us. And they know they can defend Catholics who are persecuted without giving offense to Protestants. So when you're attacked, you've only to raise the cry, perse- cution, and these fellows will 'pitch in;' not but what they had as lief you'd go to the devil as any other way, just as soon as you've answered their purpose; at the same time, they will be doiig you good service by changing the current. of popular feeling and in- dignation. I foresee just how the thing will work: especially will those men who have an itching to be president, seize with avidity such an opportunity to make fair weather with the Catholic voters. Should my prediction turn out true, and a popular excitement kindle fiercely against you, it will be well for you to make immediately for Washington City; and you'll find that some of the would-be presidents will 'pitch in' for you neck and heels; and they will get Congress to pass some resolutions in your favor; then after that you'll have fair sailing-be- come a lion! be toasted by all the great men of the nation, and may be travel at the expe'nse of the government-and if need be, have an escort of office-seekers, who will be proud to traverse the whole country with you, carrying pockets full of rocks, to keep off the, mob." "Not a bad suggestion, Dr.-if occasion require, I shall trybto profit by it." "Well now, about this Wecret society, the Sanfe- desti, tell me 'more; think you it can effect greater things than Jesuitism is able to accomplish?' page: 170-171[View Page 170-171] 170 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. " Most assuredly; 'twas the Sanfedesti that over- threw the Roman Republic." "With the help of the French and Austrian soldiers." "But you should know that French interference was brought about through the instrumentality of the order." "Do you say so?" "Indeed I do." "' Perhaps, then, it's just the thing we want in this country; for I learn there is now spring- ing up here in New York a secret society, which has for its chief object to oppose the ecclesiastical and political power and influence of the Catholic Church: and it makes Bishop Hughes fairly shake in his shoes; he quakes with fear, and says if we don't look sharp. they'll get us down before we know what we're about." "In heaven's name, what kind of a society is it?' "That's what we'd like to know-they call themselves Know-Nothings; and that's all we know."' "Know-Nothings! what a name! And you don't know what the Know-Nothings are?" "But' we're certain they are doing something, while they know nothing." "What do they do?" ' They knock our political calculations into pie." "'Tis very curious." "So it is-and that's what confounds us. If a man has a drop of Catholic blood in his veins, he stands no earthly chance, where these Know-Noth- i "GHT, MORE LIGHT. ings are, of being elected to any ofice whatever." "Zounds! Is it so anywhere else than in New York?" It is said they are spreading rapidlyin all direc- "Blast their eyes! how do they manage it?" "Don't know." That beats the Sanfedesti.," 'Oh, they beat the very devil!" "This is a wicked world!" "So it is. Come, cousin, let ps take another dram; we were boys together!, ic So we were; this brandy goes well?' "I always keep the best article." I'm afraid you take it too reely D.-yo look a little bloated.", "I'm obliged to stimuiate constantly, for I've so much to perplex me, now a days, and I'm getting old and frail, you know. "Long and faithfully have you served the Church; and now heaven is only waiting to reeive you." itg to receive "I suppose so: but for all, I'd a little rather stay in this world, Cousin Bedini d" "That's natural." X "I hardly know why, but it has always seemed to me, that heaven must be rather a dryplace." "I wouldn't wonder if it should so turn out." "For fear of a drought in that country, I guess ve'd better keep wetting our whistles while we have a chance," and again they filed their glasses. "Well, Dr. you spoke of an upper room in this bouse of yours, which may be suitable for the San- page: 172-173[View Page 172-173] 172 LIGIT, MORE LIGHT. fedesti to meet in: it must be a very secure and secret place." ' So it must., Let us go up and take a look at the apartment." ' Agreed.' "But first we'll let on a little more steam, for that stairway is steep and long." "Be careful, however, that you do not take too much: you might fall and break your neck." "My neck is not one of the breaky sort-else it would have been cracked many a day ago." "I dare say you've had many trials in this land of heretics; and made some narrow escapes." "Indeed have I: look here, where that reprobate Clinton shot me." "Holy Virgin! A narrow escape!" "No escape at all, as I consider it." "Lead the way now, Dr., I'll follow. Upon my word you stagger." ' Never fear-I can describe a bee-line." When they had nearly reached the top of the B long winding stairs, Dupee growing rather too top- heavy, staggered backwards, and fell heels over head! Bedini was behind him, but thought only of saving himself; sliding out of the way, he let his luckless cousin have the track, and a chance to tum- ble without obstruction; so one somerset followed another; and the further he went, the faster-first one end up, and then the other; at last, with one tremendous, frightful bound, he was precipitated like an avalanche to the foot of the stairway-and lighting on his head-broke his neck. It may not be uncharitable to conjecture that his frightened ghost went to join the majority. "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 173 Bedini had not figured long in the country, till his character was made known to the American people, by that excellent man, Father Gavazzi, who denounced the Papal Nuncio as the butcher of Bologna, and guilty of the death of Ugo Bassi. When this came out, the people in many places thought proper to give an expression of their abhorrence to his enormons crimes, and the scorn and contempt they felt towards the blood- stained wretch. Consequently, in various cities which he visited, they burnt him in effigy--but al- ways in a quiet arnd peaceable manner, without any attempt at personal violence. It may be here observed that Bedini did not re- ceive the scorn and contempt heaped upon him in this country because he was a foreigner; nor be- cause he was a Catholic priest; neit er because he held anti-republican and despotic riciples, but because he was proven to be a brutal murderer! The indignation of the people was kindled against him, not only on account of the part he acted in the apprehension, and summary punishment of so many republicans, and his signing the death- warrant of Ugo Bassi, but mainly for that most inhuman act of torturing the noble-hearted patriot. It was certainly nothing new in this country for the people to express their disapprobation, and feelings of abhorrence, by burning effigies. Have not our own native-born Americans sometimes been treated in the same way? Even honest John' Tyler, merely for a political . measure, which awakened a burst of popular indignation, was burnt in effigy in many parts of the inion. At page: 174-175[View Page 174-175] Nashville, Tenn., the citizens, not being content with hanging and burning poor John's effigy, compelled a negro slave to give it first a severe cowhiding, But who made a fuss about that? was it de- nounced in the United States? were the citizens of Nashville, or elswhere, berated as heathenish? Did political demagogues in any part of the country lift up their hands in holy horror? But when it comes to giving an expression of popular sentiment in a similar manner, against a Romish priest, who makes his appearance in our midst with his hands stained with the blood of patriots; whose only offense was, a brave struggle for liberty, the people must be denounced as persecutors, outlaws, and vile calumniators-and that in the Senate of the United States! Bedini; not forgetting the advice of Dupee, his dead cousin, turned his steps toward the Capitol; and sure enough, he found the would-be presidents all eager to "pitch in "-each hoping to get a feather for his cap. The day following Bedini's arrival at Washing- ton City, a certain northern Senator, (not the lean Cassius whom a Caesar might fear) was walking pompously toward the Capitol, wrapped in deep meditation as well as a thick skin and a superflu- ity of flesh and blood; for though lean of brain, sure his belly was fat;-on his way he thus solilo- quized: "Now's my time to gather plumes; this Bedini affair will furnish me an excuse for saying some- thing to please the Catholics; and Protestants will justify me if I only succeed in convincing them that "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 175 the fellow is really persecuted. It goes somewhat against the grain-I've got to stretch what little conscience I have left-for this Bedini, without any doubt, deserves to be hanged-he looks the villain, and his own countrymen, who ought to know, say he is-and the very basest of villains ! Yet I must become his apologist, and make him out an angel if I can. There's no honesty in politics anyhow; so it's not worth while to be squeamish; I'm in for it, and now I'll go the whole figure-if it sends me to the devil. I'm bound to be president, cost what it will! My chance is growing fair-the track is almost clear; Clay and Webster, thank God, have gone to heaven! But now I must manage this Bedini excitement just right--for as trifling a thing as it may seem in itself, yet it might turn a current in my favor sufficient to carry me high and dry! But, confound it, I'm afraid too many asses will 'pitch in ' to share the honor with me; if it so turns out, that will spoil the whole thing! Woudn't it be a God-send for me, if some three or four" more Senators that I could think of, should shortly go to kingdom come? What harm can there be in wishing our fellow-men in heaven; 'where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest.' "' On entering the Senate-chamber, he found Be- dini already there tete-a-tete with several members around him; fearing some one would get ahead of him in the matter, he hastened to prepare and sub- mit a resolution with regard to the mission of the Papal Nuncio. " He's taking time by the forelock," whispered page: 176-177[View Page 176-177] 176 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. one southern member to another;"I intended to have led off in that affair; myself." The northern Senator went on to speak at some length of the accusations hurled at the innocent head of the distinguished stranger. He pronounced him guiltless as an angel; pure in heart as the driven snow, and spotless as the purple light of heaven; declared that his hands were as free from the blood of Ugo Bassi as his own; denounced with exceeding bitterness and severity, all who had taken part in treating him with scorn and derision Several members of the Senate chimed in, utter- ing similar sentiments-denouncing in unmeas- ured terms those who had taken a hand in burn- ing the holy man in effigy, and otherwise offering insult, and treating with contempt so illustrious a divine. By this time Bedini had swelled up like a toad, and began to feel himself of more than considera- ble consequence. The fulsome flattery and ex- cessive compliments lavished upon him, inflated the fellow almost to bursting. But his reverence was timely saved from explosion by a few counter- acting remarks offered by a California Senator, near the close of the discussion, who delivered himself substantially as follows: "I can see no good that will likely grow out of the resolution. The expression of public opinion cannot be put down, whatever the Senate may say or do. If Bedini is guilty of only one-half of what he is charged with by his own countrymen, then the people are right in what they are doing." These remarks drew forth loud applause in j. "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 1" the galleries. A sudden revulsion was produced in the feelings of the Nuncio; he put on a grim and fiendish expression, contracted his brow and gra- ted his teeth. And the Senators who had spoken in his favor hung their heads and looked decidedly blank. This debate in the Senate caused the Italian ex- iles in the city of New York to publish an address concerning Bedini. They charged him with having been a party to all the cruelties and executions which grew out of the suppression of the Italian Revolution in '49, and they gave the names of a number of Republicans who were executed, im- prisoned and sent to the gallows for the part they took in the revolution, by his direction. The address is signed by seventy-seven Italians now residing in New York, who are excellent citi- zens and truthful men. At the public meeting, called for the purpose of preparing the document, and also in order formally, and in a body, to declare their opinions as to the private and public character of Bedini, several speeches were made by men of sterling moral worth and eminent talents, who had been com- pelled to leave their country on account of their connection with the revolutionary movements of 1848. Mr. Foresti was appointed president of the meeting, and on taking the chair, made an appro- priate, eloquent, and, deeply-convincing speech-- from which I give the following extract: "After Bedini had received the lamentable order of the Pope to enter the Four Legations as Corn page: 178-179[View Page 178-179] 178 LIGIT, MORE LIGHT. missioner Extraordinary invested with sovereign power, I received numerous letters from the Ro- magna, and several public journals. In these were to be found the feelings and opinions of the various parties either in favor or opposed to the papal government, and the declining Roman Re- public. Well, these writers all agreed in this- that the appearance of Bedini was marked with blood and with sorrow. It was dreaded by the peo- ple as the appearance of a comet was regarded by our simple ancestors-as the ill-omened token of some great calamity. "And it was so. The Four Legations of Bo- logna, Ferrara, Ravenna and Forli, are the most populous, productive and progressive portion of the Pontifical domain. There the Roman Repub- lic was proclaimed and welcomed with the great- est enthusiasm; thence were 'furnished in the greatest numbers the brave volunteers who fought at Vicenza and Treviso, and who defended so hero- ically Rome and Venice. There the hatred to the despotism of papacy is traditional and ancient. The papal government knew this well, and vowed at Gaeta to take an exemplary vengeance. To ren- der it terrible and complete, it was necessary to find a man by nature insensible to the voice of pity; a stranger to Christian love; decided and in- exorable. Such terrible men are never wanting to Sovereigns.- The Emperor of Austria found one in France; the Pope, another in Bedini. But the first was at least a man of arms and war, which had ren- dered his heart callous to the sense of tender emotions. The other was a priest, educated in the "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 179 mild doctrines of Christ; he was therefore worse than the first. "Bedini accepted the odious office. It was the plain duty of a true minister of God to refuse it. Bedini marched toward the walls of Bologna, con- taining seventy thousand persons, with a division of Austrian Croats, well equipped with abundant means of death and destruction. Eight days of desperate strife-the burning of houses, the death of numerous citizens ; famine at last put' an end to the tragedy. Bedini entered the conquered city with his Croats. He, clothed with perfect sovereign power, proclaimed martial law throughout all the territory of the Four Legations. By this brutal law are suspended at once all other laws, preserva- tive of order and justice; customary forms of pro- cedure abolished; judges are constituted from sol- diers of rank, and sentence is summarily passed, by tap of drum, to death, to the galleys, to exile, to the bastinado. This law was enforced by a priest -by Bedini. It came not, it could not come from the Austrian General. To make or abrogate laws is an attribute of sovereignty, and this attribute had been delegated by the Pope to Bedini, and not to the General. But this law was a terrible instru- ment of vengeance in the hands of Bedini, and he made use of it without mercy. We defy the apolo- gists of Bedini to deny it. Let them read all the journals in the pay of the government at that ac- cursed epoch. They will see that in Bologna, in other cities, in the towns or villages of the Four Legations, there were published numerous senten- ces of death, of imprisonment, or of exile. They # page: 180-181[View Page 180-181] 180 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. may find in these journals the names of the victims, and the day of their sacrifice. 'They will see that the police of Bedini, like hungry wild beasts, hunted after and ferreted out the republicans. On every side, families had some of their members under interdiction from leaving the house under severe penalties; others suffering domiciliary perquisitions for suspected papers; at the Post-office the sacredness of sealed letters was violated; persons were summarily banished, without form of trial, for the slightest doubtful expression or even word-for the slightest suspicion were awarded prison and persecution. The government of Bedini was in short a real reign of terror. "Bedini, say his apologists, had not the right or the power to check or modify the evils arising from the existence of martial law in the provinces. But I ask, who could and who did proclaim this martial law? The Sovereign alone, the POPE. Who repre- selted the Pope in the Four Legations? Bedini. What was the position of the Austrian General in Bologna? ,Simply that of a General, called and paid, together with his troops, to reconquer for the Pope, the Romagna from the power of the repub- licans. The spirit and the will was Bedini-the corporeal part of the compound was the Austrian General. Who collected and put into judicial form, the evidence and witnesses to condemn the patriots? The local police. Who arrested the persons suspected? Who assigned their prisons? Who directed their administration? Who named the Italian Concillire of the Court Martial? Who "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 181 caused the accused to be brought before the Court Martial? The local police. Who was it that di- rected this police? BEDINI. "' For these reasons, the populations of the Ro- magna do not curse so much the Court Martial, but Bedini. 'Had such a service been undertaken by a military officer, he would, like Haynau, have lost every particle of reputation for humanity. But what shall we say of a priest, a minister of God, a preacher of the gospel, a messenger of peace, who can undertake such an office!" Mr. G. Gajani followed, in a highly interesting speech, from which I take the following: 'When Bassi and our other compatriots were assassinated, and during the commissionership of Bedini, I was not in America; I was in Italy, and but a few miles distant from the theater of such terrible iniquity and barbarity, and in Bologna, where many of you know I have relations and friends. I can, therefore, relate events to you as they actually took place. After having placed in safety my brothers who were seriously wounded, I escaped with difficulty into the territory of the lit- tle republic of San Maring, where I was detained a few days in consequence of a slight wound and an attack of gastric fever. On this occasion I saw Ugo Bassi with Garibaldi, whose chaplain he was. We dined together, and upon leaving, Bassi mani- fested the presentiment which he had of his ap- proaching end. I tried to persuade him to remain, but in' vain; this was but forty hours before his execution. He embarked at Cesenatici with Gari- page: 182-183[View Page 182-183] 182 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. baldi, Forbes, and two hundred and fifty others to go to Venice, but their little boats were partly taken and partly sunk by the Austrians. Col. Forbes and many others were taken prisoners. Garibaldi and his wife landed and hid themselves in a little pine wood, La Pinita di Ravenna, where she died of fatigue. Ugo Bassi had also landed and was seeking an asylum in the same wood, when he was taken and made prisoner of war; the body of troops who captured him was commanded by Prince Ernest, son of the Archduke Rassini, who sent Bassi with the other prisoners to Bologna, to be placed at the disposition of the 'Extraor- dinary Commissioner of the Four Legations.' "Bedini, who felt against Bassi malignity of caste and the hatred of the vile against the great and virtuous, sent him to the Commission, with or- ders to condemn him to death. "To persons of good sense, I wish to make a simple observation. It is now seven or eight months since this question was first. agitated, and it was for Bedini's interest to clear himself from the accusation. There are still at Bologna the members of the Military Commission, and all others who took part in public affairs. General Gorzkowsi is still in Italy. Why did not Bedini send for the proofs of the innocence which his de- fenders allege? It would have been an easy thing to do Co, because the deed was no secret, and in fifteen days a letter can reach here from Bologna. I received the news of the condemnation and death of Bassi at San Maring, which is about seventy miles distant. All cursed Bedini for this execution. "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 183 A few days after, I succeeded in taking refuge in Piedmont. Here the papers were full of the event; the liberal ones accused Bedini, the Reac- tionary, which are il Catolici of Genoa l'Armonia and lo Smascheratore of Turin, defended him; they did not deny the fact, but lauded him for hav- ing slain Bassi, whom they loaded with calumny. 1 wrote at that time some articles upon the subject for a Genoese paper, called Italia, but I was noti- fied by the police, that being an emigre, I had no right to the liberty of the press, and I abandoned the controversy. I then went to Turin, and re- m ained there until last February. The persons who came from Bologna, and the Piedmontese papers, even the most moderate, always spoke against the wicked actions of Bedini. He had re- vived torture for political, prisoners; he denied passports to wives who wished to rejoin their exiled husbands; and forbade the return of sons who went to visit their banished parents. It would take too long to recount all his misdeeds. I have proved twro of the gravest, and am sufficiently re- paid in being able to give the lie to the praises lavished upon him by the deluded. But the Ameri- can people have shown themselves more sensible than the men in authority. Bedini has finished by making himself a sign of universal execration. His arrival in certain cities was signalized, like that of a wild beast. Gavazzi, who first denounc- ed him to an American public, received great honors, and when he left; was accompanied to the steamer by hosts of friends. His state-room was filled with flowers and other parting gifts, and six page: 184-185[View Page 184-185] cheers rent the air as he receded from sight! Bedini fled in secret like a malefactor. This finale to the first Nuncio sent by the Pope of Rome to the United States of America, is worthy of the Jesuiti- cal imposture and baseness into which papacy has fallen. This terrible institution is near its end.- Pius the IXth will be the last Pope; Gatano Be- dini, the first and last Nuncio to America." * + + + * i * * * Before dismissing this dignitary, it may be well to notice, very briefly, some unhappy events that grew out of his visit to Cincinnati; This, perhaps, I can not do to better advantage than by relating the following conversation, which was overheard at a late hour on Christmas-night, soon after the police-riot. "What is the exitement, Mr. Allen?"' said a fe- male voice, addressing a gentleman who had just entered the drawing-room where she was seated. "A riot," replied he in a tone and manner that betrayed the agitated state of his mind. "Surely our city police do not do their duty." "That is a clear case, madam." . "Did they make no attempt to suppress the rio- tous proceedings?' "They were themselves the rioters, madam." "' What, the police guilty of a riot?" "Yes, and most outrageous, inhuman and dis- graceful conduct." I "Can it be possible? 'Tis indeed a sad thing, when the men whose duty 'it is to preserve the r peace, should be the readiest to violate it." r ' Order-loving and law-abiding citizens no Ion- ger compose the Cincinnati police." JLiun"i MORE LIGHT. 185 "The officers who control the police forces must be incompetent, or else exceedingly remiss." "They are both; yet quite competent to instigate difficulty among citizens, and blow the slightest spark of dissension up to a destructive conflagra- tion. "But how did this difficulty happen, and from what did it spring?"' "Why, this Papal Nuncio, who recently arrived in this city, and over whom the Romish clergy here are making so much ado, it seems, has been the occasion of it." "Bedini?" "That's what they call him, I believe. and a stupid. thick-skinned looking fellow he is."' "How did they manage to get up a riot about i him?" "There is in the city a society called 'Freemen,' as, perhaps, you are aware, composed chiefly of Germans-a very orderly, intelligent and respecta- ble class of citizens. Being well informed with regard to the Italian Revolution, and the ovethrow of the Roman Republic, and not ignorant of the part Bedini had acted in the tragedies of '49; and cherishing as they do a profound hatred for tyrants, and abhorring every form and species of despotism and now, seeing this Papal Nuncio flattered and ca- ressed in a land of freedom, after having murdered an apostle of liberty in his own country, and having helped to assassinate so many patriots, they could not forego an expression of their indignation, and resolved to show their contempt and deep-felt scorn for the despicable wretch in the most public 16 , page: 186-187[View Page 186-187] manner possible-yet to proceed about it in a quiet, peaceable way." "But why did they select the Sabbath for such a demonstration?" "They regretted to do so; but having learned that Bedini was to leave early on Monday morning, they thought it better not to miss the chance of letting him know in what estimation he was held by the friends of liberty. They, however, waited till about ten o'clock at night, that they might not disturb any worshiping assemblies by their proceed- ings. At that hour, having prepared an effigy of Bedini, which was surmounted by a miter or pon- tifical crown, they formed a procession, .and marched toward the public market-space on Fifth street, where they intended burning the effigy. The chief of the police went in company with the procession until he ascertained to what point they were directing their course; then quitting their ranks, hastened to where his armed forces were in waiting for further orders." "But did he not admonish the leaders in the pro- cession that the city authorities were about to in- terfere and put a stop to their proceedings?" "No; said not a word, nor gave them the slight- est itint that the police would in any way oppose what they contemplated doing, but led his men on to the corner of Plum and Ninth streets, where, in ambuscade, they awaited the approach of the pro- cession, which consisted) of unarmed men, women and children, whom they surprised and furiously assailed with guns, pistols, knives and clubs." "Can it be possible? Surely the police did not "GHT, MORE LICuH. 187 know there were women and children in the pro. cession?" "How could they help knowing it? they had their spies out W'atching the movements of the 'Freeman's Society,' who made all their arrange- ments openly, and without any attempt to conceal their intentions; and the chief of the police was himself a spy among them but a few minutes be- fore he led on the brutal attack." "Were many hurt?" " One man was killed, sixteen or more wounded, and some very seriously if not mortally." "Shocking! most shocking! Do you suppose they really aimed to kill, or only to frighten the Freemen and break up the procession?" "As to the intentions of the police in that re- spect, you can judge for yourself-they just pitched in, shooting, stabbing, and knocking down! The poor fellow that lost his life was surrounded by several policemen, some kicking, some striking, and others shooting him." "Can it really be possible they were so dastard ly and inhuman?" "I saw the whole transaction with my own eyes. The first shot he received staggered him, then he was struck on the head with a mace, which felled him to the ground, and after he was down they shot him three or four times." "What horrid brutality! Had heno weapons to defend himself?" "None-he made no resistance; yet the remorse- less and heartless assassins could not be satisfied with anything short of Indian barbarity." "Could you render him no assistance?' page: 188-189[View Page 188-189] "How was it possible? I had nothing to fight with; the procession didn't stand to give battle; not dreaming of being molested, they were with- out weapons of defense. What could any number of unarmed men have done in resisting a hundred policemen, who most unexpectedly sallied forth from ambush, attacking them with deadly weapons of every description, and disposed to show no quarter to the vanquished!" "Such an outrage was never heard tell of!' "I presume never-at all events, in no civilized country. But the outrage did not end there. Sixty-four persons, including the wounded, were dragged to the watch-house, and with blows and curses crowded into suffocating cells, so closely that they had neither room to lie or sit down; and there the wounded and bleeding, without aid of any kind, were compelled to stand upon their feet till morning. I insisted on the windows being opened to give them fresh air, for which the chief of police and other ruffians cursed and threatened me." "In the name of humanity what kind of men are they?" "Not men-but fiends! If you had heard the obscene language, and horrid oaths of the vulgar wretches, and witnessed their worse than brutal conduct, you wouldn't call them men:" "Where on earth was the Mayor and Police judge?" "They made it convenient to be absent, in order I suppose, to avoid responsibility; yet 'tis evident they counseled the policemen to proceed in the affair as they did." "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 189 "What could have been their motives for such conduct, and unheard of cruelty?" "Why, in the first place, devilment is their natural element. Secondly, they imagine there is something to be gained by servility to Romanists, and obsequiously becoming the tools of the clergy. They, no doubt, now expect great honor from the priesthood, for resenting in their behalf, so bravely, the insult which the Freemen and Freewomen, had the temerity to offer the Nuncio." ' Think you, the Society of Freemen intended no violence?" "If they contemplated anything rash, they would have left their women and children at home; and they say they had not the most remote thought of injuring any one, either in person or property. Indeed, there is no reason whatever to suppose that they intended anything more than to exhibit publicly their contempt for Bedini, the atrocious assassin of Ugo Bassi. And that, they had he unquestionable right to do if they chose." * # * * * "Romish clergy of this country, finding that Bedini as getting in worse repute among the America people the longer he stayed, and that such deveopments were being made with regard to his scandalous life, as to bring reproach upon. themselves, advised him to hasten away. The charges preferred against him by Father Gavazzi and the Italian exiles in New York, being fully substantiated, however, before he was able to get out of the country the guilty wretch became dreadfully terror-stricken, and concealed himself page: 190-191[View Page 190-191] several days in New York, guarded by Irishmen and the Police. He finally sailed for Europe, on board the steamer Atlantic. - Upon his exit, the Louisville Pioneer, a German paper, comments in the following style: "It thus appears that the mission to Brazil was either an impudent fabrica- tion, or that he feared being welcomed in South America in the manner of his reception here. ' But as a suitable climax to the history of Be- dini's mission to this country, we may add, that soon after his return to Italy he took it into his head to convince the American people that he was verily a saint, notwithstanding their unfavorable opinions of him: so he writes to this country, stating, not only on his own veracity, but also on the veracity of the Pope, that during his commission- ership, and the enacting of bloody scenes at Bol- ogna, a miracle was wrought to evince God's ap- proval of his conduct. Which miracle, was the moving of the eyes of the Virgin Mary's picture. The enlightened people of this country want weightier testimony than the say-so of Bedini, or his master, the Pope, that such a miracle ever happened; and for one, if convinced that the won- der really occurred, I should certainly be disin- clined to regard it as a sign of heaven's appro- val of the inhuman deeds of the monster, Bedini- but the reverse. If anything could start the eyes of the blessed Virgin's picture, and make the senseless colors stare upon the canvas, it would be such horrid butcheries. Had they told us the picture wept, shedding tears of blood, the story would have been almost plausible. i Secret session of an ecclesiastical council in the city of New York. IN order to keep up the various threads of the story, it may be well in this place to speak again of Bishop Constantine, to whom in some of the first chapters of our narrative we gave considerable prominence. Tracing the Rev. gentleman furthe in his career, we find him after the lapse of a few years, figuring in a priestly conclave, which met in New York city, and sat several days in secret ses- sion. It mary not be uninteresting to the reader to have a brief outline of a heterogeneous discussion which took place in this ecclesiastical council between Constantine and other Bishops. Archbishop Leo, a dispassionate man, and cool calculator, had just spoken at considerable length on expediency and the danger of precipitant measures. Constantine, growing impatient, said with great warmth: "Tis useless longer to disguise our aims; noth- ing more is to be gained by our protestations of de- votion to civil and religious liberty. These, at first, werelnecessary as things of policy-mere expedi- ents to gain time, and meant for nothing more." (191) page: 192-193[View Page 192-193] 192 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. "Tis yet too soon," remarked a member, "to throw off the mask." "The power which sits enthroned at Rome," re- turned the Bishop," rightfully claims the allegiance of the entire world." "But it must be gained by stratagem."' "Rome has now gathered strength, and the lion may cease to speak like the lamb. Catholicity as- pires to, and demands the dominion of the whole earth.' "True,-but her demand will not be tamely granted; a mighty battle is first to be fought." "The Roman Catholic Church being the most formidable power on the face of the globe, why should it be deterred by any combinations that may be formed against it?" "But the time has not yet come for us openly and boldly to assert the claims of the sovereign Pontiff." "He possesses the right to overrule all forms of government." "So he does, I grant; and to suppress by mili- tary force, whenever that force can be obtained, all forms of religion but the Catholic. Protestants, though, have yet to learn that religious toleration is incompatible with Catholicity; when this we no longer conceal from them, their hostility will grow still more bitter." ' Their knowledge of the fact, although it may increase their opposition to us, can give them no advantage over us. Besides, we cannot appear consistent while we conceal our sentiments on that subject. First, and most of all, 'tis needful that we "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 193 bring our heaviest artillery to bear upon the State Schools." ' In that we agree; for if we fail to break down and utterly defeat the American Common School system, 'tis destined to operate vastly to our disad- vantage." "Yes, by enlightening the masses., And I find there are some Catholics, and not a few, who in- cline to send their children to these Free Schools." "So there are: hence the more necessary that we contrive to overturn them." "It will behoove us to be exceedingly careful as to our mode and manner of attack. By an injudi- cious attempt on the part of the Hierarchy to pros- trate the Common Schools of this country, our aims would not only be defeated, but our influence greatly weakened." "The attempt, without the deed, confounds us." ' To my mind, it would be good policy to de- mand at first only a prorata division of the public school fund. For if that be granted, our success is sure;-the whole superstructure will then very soon topple down; and there'll follow a universal squabble among Protestant sects to see who can get the largest grab at the public funds. Such a contention you see would unquestionably result in the destruction of the system -and that is what we want." "A wise suggestion! And should the scheme succeed of bringing about a division of the Public School Funds, it will have the effect to introduce into the schools the sectarianism which has been so sed- ulously guarded against by the founders of the sys- 17 page: 194-195[View Page 194-195] U M lIGHT,'l' MOKR JUIUHT. ter: and when once that creeps in the whole affair is destined to explode!" "Doubtless it will be so. Besides, a grant for such a division, if obtained, will give us a chance to put our hands into the public coffers." "True; and as to the use we may choose to make of such funds-" "That will be our own business." "So it will." The council unanimously agreed upon the sub- ject of attacking, and seeking to destroy the Free Schools. Bishop Constantine, in concluding a lengthy speech upon the subject, before the council, said: "Everywhere let the clergy and editors of our Church denounce the State schools as, godless, immoral, corrupting to youth, dens of iniquity and pollution, fostering all manner of crime and infidel-, ity. Holy Brethren, when once we fairly open our batteries upon the Common Schools, our hostility must be uncompromising,-lct us give them war to the hilt!" Scarcely a fortnight had elapsed after this eccle- siastical body closed its session, when an assault was made by the Romish clergy upon the Public Schools of the city of New York; and then directly a simultaneous war was waged against the Free Schools throughout the length and breadth of the land-by priests, bishops, and editors of the Romish Church: many of whom, laying aside all dignity and decency of language in their virulent denunciations, indulged in raillery, billingsgate, vulgar epithets, and the vilest possible manner of abuse. "GHTa, MORE LIGHT. 195 - * ** * * * * It subsequently appeared that the designs of the Hiearchy were unmasked too soon; their despotic aims received a just rebuke. Shortly after the defeat of the priest party, in their infamous attempts to demolish the Public Schools, Bishop Constantine, no longer able to en- dure the taunts of heretics, and the scorn of repub- licans, embarked for Italy; where, perhaps, he breathes an atmosphere more congenial to his na- ture, and better suited to the narrowness of his soul. , page: 196-197[View Page 196-197] Charles Clinton's zeal in opposing priestly aggression-The lost nun-Bardstown Nunnery. CHARLES CLINTON, as might naturally be suppos- ed, became uncompromisingly hostile to Romanism priestly aggression. Having on one occasion in- vited together a circle of his personal frieinds, with whom to confer on the subject, the following con- versation. occurre d s t pr Vigilance," remarked Charles is te price of liberty! Every true hearted Amerin can is called up- on, and should be urged to guard, with a constant- ly wakeful and jealous eye, the blood-bought heri- tage of freedom:-and the more, since we have to do with a formidable religious organization, whose object it is to tyrannize over the human mind, and stifle the very breath of liberty." I grant you, Mr. Clinton," observed a dignified looking man, at the same time putting on some- thing of a consequential air, "Romanism is anti- republican in its principles, and despotic inAenden- (196) "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 197 cy; furthermore, I'm willing to admit that the pa- pal clergy, generally, are corrupt and intriguing; yet, I see not the necessity of Protestants becoming alarmed, or at all troubling themselves about it." "So thought not the immortal Washington, when he said: 'Against the insidious wiles of foreign in- terference, the jealousy of a free people ought to be constantly awake.'" "I'm no alarmist, friend Clinton; nor can I see any danger of Catholics harming our republican institutions. If they had the will, they do not pos- sess the power.' "Romanists, Mr. Calvin, particularly the Jesuit priests, have long been secretly, and are now open- ly arraying themselves against the free institutions of this country. So perfectly are the sworn bands of the Vatican organized, and so rapidly is their strength accumulating in America by foreign emi- gration, that it is high time the friends of liberty were on the alert, and arming for the contest." "What, predicting blood-shed?" "I mean, of course, a moral contest-a war be- tween truth and error-a struggle between the spirit of freedom and that of despotism; -which, indeed, 'tis not impossible should terminate in blood, as many such contests have in former times and other countries. The American people, I hold, are culpably indifferent to the menaces of an arro- gant and tyranical Hierarchy, who owe no allegi- ance to this government, acknowledge no respect, any longer, for our institutions, yet cease to disguise their intentions to manage the helm of state, and dictate to us in governmental affairs. Such indiffer- ence is little short of downright stupidity!" page: 198-199[View Page 198-199] 198 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. "But 'tis not impossible you should be prejudi- ced against Papists, and therefore do them injus- tice." "Well, then, let them speak for themselves: I hold in my hand a Catholic paper, published at St. Louis; it contains this remark, which I find in an editorial column: ' The time is not remote, when there will be an end, in this country, to 'religious toleration.' Surely this is a bold prediction, in the nineteenth century, and in this land of liberty!" "I cannot but regard your apprehensions as groundless; the tree of liberty has struck too deep in American soil to be easily uprooted." "How shall we judge of the future but by the past? What has Romanism been? What has Po- pery done? Rather, what not done to oppress and injure frail humanity, darken the heavens, and spread desolation through the earth? The history of the Church of Rome is a history of plots, in- trigues, intolerance, proscription, sanguinary per- secutions, and revolting inhumanities! It has ever been the aim of Rome to enslave mankind by means of cunning priestcraft; by the halter; the lash and the dungeon; the spy, and the brutal hire- ling soldier: and she has welcomed the cooperation of every despot, knave, and military robber. At this very moment, wherever Papacy controls the military power, religious and political despotism exist." "Come, come, Mr. Clinton, your picture is over- drawn." "Does not the history of the world show that wherever Popery extends its jurisdiction, and exer- cises a controlling influence, there every onward "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 199 movement is checked, liberal philosophy, mental freedom and development discountenanced-and an extinguisher placed on the lamp of science. Look at Mexiko, South America, at Canada - and look at all the Catholic countries of Europe." "Do you pretend to say Catholics are opposed to education?" "To be educated in the doctrines and traditions of the Romish Church, they reckon highly import- ant; and, in fact, to confer such an education as that is manifestly the main design of all their in- stitutions. That the Hierarchy really stand oppos- ed to an education that invigorates or liberalizes the mind, is evident from the general tone of Cath- olic journals, with reference to the Common Schools. One of these journals, published at Chi- cago, recently contained the following remarks, ad- dressed to Catholic parents: 'Rather than send your children to the State Schools, let them go un- educated: better that they remain unable to read -a thousand times better! Sooner let them grow up boors, and become hewers of wood and drawers of water, than be placed in those miserable sinks of iniquity, the Free Schools.' "Such language, I admit, is very unbecoming, however much they may be opposed to the schools." "Were Protestant ministers, of any Church, to pursue a similar course, they'd be hissed out of community. But from some cause or other the American people overlook an arrogance, presump- tion and egotism in the Romish clergy, that they would by no means tolerate in any body else." page: 200-201[View Page 200-201] 200 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. "With regard to the Common Schools, Mr. Clin- ton," observed one of the circle, who had not be- fore expressed an opinion, "we hardly know yet how they will work; for my own part, I'd be far better pleased with them, were they given some- thing more of a religious caste." "In this system of popular education, Mr. For- est," replied Charles, " as I understand it, it is in- tended that children be left free from all sectarian influence, and simply furnished with that knowl- edge which all consider essential. To my mind, it argues well for this system that it everywhere re- ceives the hearty approval of the impartial,-per- sons swayed by no religious prejudices. Those within the pale of no Church find nothing to com- 'plain of in this admirable Free School System: why then should Catholics allege that it is but a scheme concocted by Protestant sects to take ad vantage of them?" "Waiving that matter, allow me to ask why it is that Catholic priests, being opposed, as you maintain they are, to enlightening the masses, yet manifest great zeal in building up schools and col- leges in this country? No doubt you are ready to respond that it is to give them an opportunity of teaching Romanism. In reply to that, I'll remark, that in the prospectus of one of their female insti- tutions I find the following: 'Pupils of every relig- ious denomination are admitted into this institution. No improper influence is ever used to bias the re- ligious principles of young ladies, nor will any of the scholars be allowed to embrace the Catholic religion without a written or verbal permission g "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 201 from their parents.' It is further stated, however, 'that for the sake of order, all the boarders are re- quired to observe the general rules of exterior wor- ship.'" "Yes, but notice particularly the language used. It is not said no influence will be exerted to bias the religious opinions of pupils, but, 'no improper influ- ence' is to be employed. What they would regard as proper the parents might consider improper, if they could at all times be present to judge. And what signifies their promise, even if it were made in good faith, which I'm inclined to doubt, that scholars will not be allowed to embrace the Catho- lic religion without the consent of their parents? Observe in the prospectus this clause: 'for the sake of order, all the boarders are required to observe the general regulations of exterior worship.' That is, to unite in their prayers and devotions. Who that is at all acquainted with human nature can fail to see that the tender and susceptible mind of youth must be more or less impressed in this way? And what considerate Protestant parents would think it a light matter to have the minds of their children filled with superstition, and imbued with the false and stupefying principles of Romanism? "A similar regulation may be found in the pros- pectus of St. Gabriel's College, Vincennes, Indiana: There is no interference whatever, with the re- ligious belief of the pupils; but, for the sake of or- der,' it is added, 'they are expected to comply with the external forms of Catholic worship, which is the religion professed by the members of this college.' page: 202-203[View Page 202-203] 202 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. "Romanism is a religion of pomp and show-of external rites and ceremonies; and, hence, is well calculated to impress the young and unreflecting. Teachers acquire an almost unlimited influence over the minds of their pupils, and when so dispos- ed, may do much in forming their sentiments and moulding their characters. Hence the necessity of placing children in the hands of the right kind of instructors. The education of the young is a mat- ter of inestimable importance; and to whom shall we commit this important trust? Shall it be to a class of men, bound by the decisions and interpre- tations of the dark ages, who dare not freely and fully investigate the most important branches of knowledge? Shall it be to men who hold that the perfection of virtue consists, not in discharging well the duties of life in its ordinary relations-but in fasting, celibacy, austerity, abjuring the world and such like things? "Since the establishments of the Jesuits have been broken up in France, they are likely to be- come the principal teachers in the Roman schools of our country; and this circumstance must reader it still more unsafe and unwise for Protestant pa- rents to patronize their institutions. In addition to the usual vows taken by the monks and nuns, the Jesuit takes that of unlimited submission, and un- conditional obedience to the Pope. Jesuits are a class of men whose corrupt principles lead them to become the curse of every land where they are tol- erated. In consequence of their political intrigues, their immoral principles and practices, they have been expelled successively by all the governments "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 203 of Europe. 'Wearied at length,' says Dr. Duff, 'and worn out by their unscrupulous rapacity and all grasping ambition, their treachery and strata- gems-their seductions and briberies-their in- trigues and cabals-their laxation of public morals and disturbance of social order-their fomentings and seditions, disloyalties and rebellions-their in- stigating massacres and parricidal cruelties, and royal assassinations-the monks and courtiers, judges and civil magistrates, churches and public schools, princes and emperors of all nations, in Europe, Asia, Africa and America-all, all, suc- cessively, united their efforts in sweeping them clean away, and causing their institute to perish from off this earth, and from under these heavens!' "Pope Clement XIV. was constrained to sup- press the order in July 1773-an act which cost him his life! For in a short time he was poisoned by these, his implacable enemies. But in 1814, Pius VII. reinstated this dangerous order in all its privi- leges, and now it is spreading its baneful influence' over the whole world. "Romanists themselves furnish conclusive evi- dence that the moral code of the order is most in- famous. "But to return to the subject of Roman schools: -you have alluded to the zeal they manifest in building up institutions of learning. Let me re- mind you, these institutions are considerable sources of income to the Church. There is a nun- nery near Bardstown, Ky., located on a farm of several hundred acres, ' the number of whose fe- male boarders,' says Dr. Rice in his lectures on page: 204-205[View Page 204-205] 204 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. Romanism,' has averaged from one hundred to one hundred and fifty. The charges for each, includ- ing extras, would not be less than one hundred and fifty dollars. The annual income of the institution is not less than fifteen thousand dollars. The out- lay is small, since their provisions are mainly rais- ed on the farm. Almost the whole of this money is earned by the nuns; yet they get no part of it. Their coarse fare and clothing is all they receive. By the degradation of these poor women, the clergy are enriched; and to make slaves of, them was their object in so shamefully deluding them. Some of the nuns are employed as teachers, some are house and kitchen servants, and some labor in the fields!' "'Without murmuring, they do whatever the priests, their masters, bid them do-and that with- out the hope of pecuniary reward. In referring to the nunnery near Bardstown, Dr. Rice remarks: I know not how others may feel, but it appears to me, that every Christian and every American, should set his face against those prisons, where fe- males are incarcerated and degraded from the sphere they are destined to fill.' Then, you perceive, there may be other mo- tives than a wish to educate, for the sake of en- lightening, that induce Romish priests, in this coun- try, to build up schools and colleges!" "I've heard a great deal about these nunneries, Mr. Clinton, but have been inclined to think them misrepresented; at all events, that they are not the corrupt institutions some would have the world believe." / "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 205 "Gladly would I be persuaded, Mr. Forest, that naught but purity were to be found in them; but when I have abundant testimony to the contrary, the force of which I cannot possibly resist, I would surely sin against truth and humanity to turn away from it with indifference.?" ' "What evidence then can be adduced, that the priests who have the supervision of such institu- tions, are impure men? Let us have a single in- stance, well authenticated." "Well then, let me give you an instance, which created no little excitement in the State of Ken- tucky, a few years, ago; and about which a good deal-was said at the time, in the newspapers. I'll relate it to you in the language of Dr. Rice, who resided in Bardstown at the .time the affair hap- pened: "'Some twelve years ago a nun, in Kentucky, left the institution with which she was connected, and returned to her father's house, alleging as her reason, the improper conduct of the presiding priest toward her. Her father and relatives were ignorant and bigoted Papists. They regarded her as guilty of a horrid crime, in preferring charges against one of the holy priesthood; and she was driven from home with threats of violence. She went to the house of a Baptist minister, a near neighbor, to whom she told her story. The report soon spread through the neighborhood, that this woman was charging the priest with immorality. A large proportion of the people were Papists; aid of course there arose much excitement against her. She remained a short time in the neighborhood, page: 206-207[View Page 206-207] 206 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. and was suddenly missing; and from that day to this, she has never been heard of!' Dr. Rice was then editing a paper in Bardstown; he published the facts in the case. A suit for libel was institut- ed against him by the President of the St. Joseph's College, in behalf of the priest implicated in the affair. The dainages were laid at ten thousand dol- lars. The suit was pending twelve months. The Roman clergy of Kentucky fully identified them- selves with the suit. The weight of all the nunne- ries in that region, of which there were several, was thrown into the scales. Eminent lawyers were employed on both sides. The priest had every motive to explain the mysterious absence of the nun, and to produce her before the public. The court decided, that the defendant was bound to prove the actual guilt of the priest, and that the missing nun was the only competent witness in the plea of justification. Much testimony was taken, and many facts not previously published, were proved. The verdict of the jury gave the priest damages to the amount of one cent. The character of the jurymen was assailed by some of the friends of the priests, or the priests in disguise. In conse- quence of which, the jurymen made a publication, stating, that but for the instructions of the court, they would have been compelled to find a verdict for the defendant (Rice). The testimony was taken down at the time, signed by the court, and filed away among the records of the Nelson County Circuit Court. A full account of the trial, with the testimony in the case, soon after was published in a small volume, as well as in several newspapers of the country. "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 207 '"The fate of Milly McPherson, the lost nun, is still involved in profound mystery. Many believe, and will believe, that she was murdered to prevent further exposures of the priests and nunneries. I might give you many similar instances, but it is unnecessary. "Since you have alluded to the pledges of Catholic institutions not to interfere with the re- ligious opinions of Protestant children, I will here state a fact well authenticated, to show how little they regard their pledges. Dr. Rice is my author, who now resides in St. Louis, and who not long since stated what I am about to relate, in the presence of a large assembly in Cincinnati; I will give it in his own language. 'A Protestant lady who resided in one of the southern states, several years ago, sent her adopted son to St. Mary's Col- lege in Kentucky, an institution under the care of the Jesuits. About twelve months after she visited her son, and was surprised and exceedingly troub- led when she ascertained that he had been already received into the Romish Church. She immediate. ly removed him from the College, and placed him under my care. I afterward published the facts as she stated them to me. The President of St. Joseph's College, situated at Bardstown, made a publication in reply, in which he asserted that the boy's mother was a Roman Catholic, whose dying request to his adopted mother was, to have him trained in that faith; that he had learned this from the adopted mother herself; and that her son, a gentleman of high standing, had so directed the professors of St. Mary's College; and he even ob- page: 208-209[View Page 208-209] tained from one of those Jesuits a certificate to this effect. Providentially it so happened, that while the subject was exciting public attention, the gentleman who was said to have directed the boy to be taught the Romish faith, reached the town (Bardstown), and immediately gave me a certifi- cate that he had given no such direction; that the boy's mother was not known to have been a Ro- man Catholic, and had never made such a request as the President of St. Joseph's had pretended. Thus did those Rev. gentlemen abuse the confi- dence placed in them, and then fabricate stories to shield themselves from merited reproach.'" "After all, Mr. Clinton, you will admit, that such instances, while they prove that bad men have crept into the priesthood, do not establish the fact that, as a class, they are hypocritical and de- signing men." "But such instances are so very numerous; and taken together with other circumstances, cause me to look upon Romish priests generally, as men not to be trusted." "I must think you go too far in taking the posi- tion which you have done, that the Catholic clergy, as a class, are insincere in professing to be friends of education." "I would like to know, if sincere, why they do not manifest some zeal in the cause of popular education in Italy, Spain, Portugal, Mexico and South America? Why do they, as respects educa- tion, utterly neglect, and leave in deplorable ignor- ance the countries where their faith is established? In Mexico, where no other religious influence than - A. a--In Iz a'1URE LIGHT. 209 Popery has been felt for generations past, the mas- ses are sunk into the' condition of semi-savages, and are shockingly destitute, alike of virtue and intelligence. There are a few colleges, as they are called, in Mexico, but in this country they would not be considered respectable primary schools. The clergy of that country are men of the worst of morals--openly engage in gambling, drinking, cock-fighting, and such like practices. Yet large sums of money are annually collected in Mexico, as well as in many other benighted Catholic countries, to build up Romish schools and nunneries in the United States. It is undeniable, that in regions where the thick darkness of Papal ignorance and superstition prevail, there the Ro- man Catholic Hierarchy seem the least concerned to afford educational advantages-this is a signifi- cant fact. Look at the present condition of Italy; the people are ignorant, poor and degraded--and their civil government could scarcely be worse than it is. In the city of Rome the Inquisition still exists: this fact, Bishop Hughes, in a recent con- troversy with a Protestant, was forced to admit- yet he denied its having an existence elsewhere at the present time. Let it be remembered, then, that this monstrous tribunal, at this very moment exists under the immediate eye of the Pope, and with his approbation. Rome being the fountain-head of Catholicity, shall we reckon the Papal religion to have less purity there than in the streams which flow from it? 'Tis indeed a melancholy comment on Romanism, that in the very metropolis of Chris- tendom, as Papists consider it, the people are 18 page: 210-211[View Page 210-211] 210 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. found more ignorant, vicious, degraded and miser- ably poor, than in any other part of the earth, where pretensions are made to civilization!" "Pray, tell me what has become of the former wealth of that country?" "Ah, go to the splendid churches, and look at the coffers of the clergy, if you would know where it has gone. A greedy and avaricious priesthood has swallowed up the wealth of the whole land. And there is Spain too, once one of the most powerful kingdoms in the world-now lying in ruins-wasted and desolated by ferocious and pro- tracted civil war; the people wretchedly poor, and the country overrun with banditti-revolutions and insurrections of frequent occurrence! Spain stands before the world an instructive example of the withering, ruinous and damning influence of Po- pery. I need not go further;-casting your eye over the map of the world, you will find, that wherever Romanism has put down her foot, there misery, darkness and degradation appear. Shall the iron heel of the hideous monster be brought down upon American institutions? - Most unques- tionably, Romanism is seeking to make this coun- try what Italy is. Do you doubt it? Allow me to read you a brief extract from the last bull of his Holiness the Pope, addressed to the Bishops and other clergy in America. It runs thus: "' General education promotes infidelity, and checks the progress of Catholicity; Bible Societies are engines of mischief; the freedom of the press is a most foul plague; liberty of conscience a pro- lific source of heresy and crime! Demolish these, and Catholicism has nothing to fear in America.' "GHT, MORE LIGHT. " "Do such sentiments look friendly to the institu- tions of this country, the principles of republican- ism and the genius of our government?" "You, perhaps, too much overlook the fact, that Papists in the United States, particularly the cler- gy, are very different from what they are in most other countries." "I know they are different, at least so in out- ward act; and wherefore? for a very good reason -they are compelled to be. They well under- stand, that if outwardly and openly they were as reckless and abandoned in this country, as priests are in Mexico, Spain or Italy, they would receive the scorn and utter contempt of the people. Yet the Catholic clergy of this country do not presume to censure the conduct of priests in Mexico, Italy or elsewhere. Were they to do so, they would thereby virtually deny the infallibility of the Church -which with Romanists is an essential article of faith." "Now with regard to that doctrine of Church in- fallibility which Papists hold, they have one argu- ment which looks plausible-it is this: The Church of Rome has never suffered division, nor schism, but stood firmly united, unmarred and unshaken, amid all the mutations that have been going on around it-amid revolutions, the rise and fall of kingdoms and empires." "I am aware that is the boast of Papists-but can you believe it?" "I dare not dispute it." "Surely you have overlooked some important historical events. You have failed to acquaint page: 212-213[View Page 212-213] 212 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. yourself with the great schism, which divided the Greek and Latin Churches into two bodies, between which, to this day, there is no fellowship. And again, there too was the great Western schism, in the fourteenth century, when there were at the same time three or four rival popes, each sustained by his party, and each fulminating excommunica- tions and anathemas at the others, to the great dishonor of the Christian name. This schism agi- tated and divided the Weste'n Church for half a century, and was terminated only by the deposition of all the popes and the election of a new one, by the council of Constance, which was effected after the See of Rome had been vacant, and the Church had been without a' head two years! And there was also the Arian heresy, which had its rise in-the fourth century, and created no little division and disturbance in the Church. "And a question arose more recently, which had the effect to separate the Church into two parties, viz: 'Is the Pope above a general council?-Yes, says one large party. No, says the other; he is inferior to a general council, and may be deposed by such a council.' History records no facts better authenticated, than the frequent and terrible schisms that in dif- ferent ages rent the Catholic Church. ' But aside from this, we have ample refutation of the pretended infallibility of the Church, in the single fact that she has erred in science. The Roman pontiffs and councils unanimously pro- nounced against the motion of the earth; and but for very shame, would in all probability do so yet. ' "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 213 Galileo, for the crime of discovering that the earth revolved round the sun, was imprisoned in the In- quisition. To escape the fate of Galileo, an emi- nent mathematician, who feared being suspected of holding the same heresy, took the precaution to state in his book. I declare my submission to the decrees of the Roman Pontiffs against the motion of the earth.' Such language as this, contrary to their inward convictions, learned men were compel- led to adopt in Catholic countries, no longer ago than 1742, for fear of being overwhelmed by the anathemas of an ignorant clergy. "But why speak of what Romish priests have been? let us rather talk of what they now are. They yet make religion and morals forbidden sub- jects of investigation by the laity, even in this country." "Mr. Clinton, I must say that I am a little in- credulous as to the representations Protestants give of the proscriptive spirit and intolerance of the priesthood." "Well now, sir, I happen to have in my hand a genuine Catholic book; and here I find in it an ac- count of the fourth general council of Lateran, as- sembled in Rome, A. D. 1215. I will read a brief extract from a document passed by that council: ' We excommunicate and anathematize every heresy extolling itself against the holy orthodox, Catholic faith, which we before expounded, con- demning all heretics, by whatsoever name called, having indeed different, faces, but having their tails bound together by a common agreement in falsehood, one with another. And being condemn- le page: 214-215[View Page 214-215] 214 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. ed, let them be left to the secular powers present or their bailiffs, to be punished with due animadver- sion; if clergymen, let them first be degraded from their orders, so that the goods of persons thus con- demned, if of the laity, may be confiscated; if of the clergy, they may be devoted to the Churches from which they have received their stipends. * " * * And let the secular powers be warned and in- duced, and if need be, condemned by ecclesiastical censures, what offices soever they are in; that as they desire to be reputed and taken for believers, so they publicly take an oath for the defense of the faith; that they will study in good earnest to exter- minate toTtheir utmost power, from the land sub- ject to their jurisdiction, all heretics, condemned by the Church, so that every one that is henceforth taken unto any power, either spiritual or temporal, shall be bound to confirm this chapter by an oath. But if the temporal lord, required and warned by the Church, shall neglect to rid his territory of here- tics, let him by the metropolitan and ,the provincial bishops, be tied by the bond of excommunication; and if he scorn to satisfy within a year, let that be signified to the Pope, that he may denounce his vassals thenceforth absolved from his fidelity, and expose his country to be seized by Catholics, who, exterminating the heretics, may possess it without any contradiction, and may keep it in the purity of the faith. And those Catholics that, taking the badge of the Cross, shall gird themselves for the extermination of heretics, shall enjoy that indul- gence, and be fortified with that holy privilege, which is granted to those that go to the help of the holy land' "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 215 "That is, those who engage zealously in the bloody work of exterminating heretics, were to wear the badge of the cross and have granted to them indulgences, such as were granted to the Cru- saders. Bishop Hughes says: 'It was not a doc- trine, but only an opinion of the Church, that the civil powers ought to punish incorrigible heretics by death.' But civil magistrates were compelled to obey the bloody decrees of the Pope and Council or forfeit their crowns, and meet the thunders of the Vatican. "Allow me to read another extract from this Catholic work; here I find the creed of Pope Pius IV., published after the meeting of the Council of Trent, and which was designed to embody the doc- trines of the Council. The following professions are required of all who join the Church: ,I ac- knowledge the holy Catholic and Apostolical Ro- man Church, the mother and mistress of all C/lurch- es; and I promise and swear true obedience to the Roman Bishop, the successor of St. Peter, the prince of the Apostles and Vicar of Jesus Christ. I most truly admit and embrace apostolical and ecclesiastical traditions, and all other constitutions and observances of the same Church. I also admit the sacred Scriptures according to the sense which the Holy Mother Church has held and does hold-to whom it belongs to judge of the true sense and interpretation of the Scriptures; nor will I ever take or interpret them otherwise than according to the unanimous consent of the fathers!' "You then may here discover, that the Church claims to be the only divinely appointed expounder page: 216-217[View Page 216-217] 216" LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. of Gods revelation to man, and forbids, under severe penalty, any one to understand that revela- tion otherwise than as she directs. I will once more read from this Romish book; listen then, if you please, to the first canon of the Council of Trent on transubstantiation: 'Whoever shall deny, that in the most holy sacrament of the Eucharist there are truly, really and substantially contained, the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, to- gether with his soul and divinity, and, consequently, Christ entire, but shall affirm that he is present therein only as a sign, or figure, or by his power- let him be accursed.' , "When this Council was about to adjourn, ace cording to an account given by a Protestant writer, the presiding cardinal, the Pope's Legate, exclaim- ed: ' Anathema to all heretics!' and the Bishops responded,' Anathema! anathema!' "But I'm aware of the fact, that he who ventures to unvail the hideousness of Romanism, or even expose half the deformities of the system, will be accused of calumny: not by Papists alone, but al- so by a large class of Protestants, who have never taken the trouble to inform themselves what Ro- manism is. Without knowing anything of the enormities justly chargeable upon Popery and priestcraft in other countries, and ignorant of their plottings and deep laid schemes in this, they are ever ready, in behalf of Papists, to join in the cry of PERSECUTION! Such accusations were hurled at Washington and Jefferson, men who had at heart the honor and safety of their country; and who, even then, foresaw the perils that would one day "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 217 overhang this great republic, through the strata- gems and treachery of Romanists. They predict- ed that if our glorious system of government should ever be overthrown, that priestcraft would be the cause. Mark this circumstance: it is not the timid, unread and illiterate, but men of sagaci- ty, observation and experience that look with dis- trust upon the Roman Hierarchy, and are most ready to sound the alarm when the priesthood manifest a disposition to usurp temporal or gpiritu- al authority. When we look at the immense crowds of foreigners that perpetually flow into this country-the large majority of whom are ig- norant and degraded-having been taught little else than implicit, servile and blind obedience to their clergy, it cannot be thought strange that we should apprehend danger to the civil and religious liberties we enjoy and so highly prize." "What, then, pray tell me, do you propose do- ing with the Catholic community? Shall they be driven from our shores, and shut out from 'the land of the free, and the home of the brave?'" "By no means; let them not be disturbed. But at the same time let them not disturb us. I only insist that Americans promptly resist priestly rule, dictation and usurpation in our governmental af- fairs, and give no countenance to the arrogant and presumptuous pretensions of the Hierarchy, to. spiritual and temporal authority. It is time Amer- icans should begin to understand the treacherous policy and ambitious aims of the priesthood. When we fully comprehend the nature and tendency of Romanism, and the hidden motives that actuate page: 218-219[View Page 218-219] 218 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. the cle"y, we shall. regard them in a very different light from what we now do; but it may then be too late to disentangle our feet from the snare." "If Romanism be indeed all you imagine-anti- republican, intolerant and proscriptive-I see not what can be done toward rendering our institutions and liberties more secure than they are." "In my humble judgment, it would contribute no little to their security, if we should succeed in calling forth a bold and decided expression of pub- lic sentiment in this country against foreign in- terference in our domestic institutions. But a thing I desire above all, is that Protestants should awake to the importance of improving and multi- pliaLg-or female schools and Academies. When this is done, papal institutions will be less pa- tronized." "You seem, Mr. Clinton, to have serious appre- hensions of the Jesuits, and to cherish a great an- tipathy toward them; I'd like to know something more about them, and to understand the object of the Order." "The mission of the Jesuits, in the sixteenth century, was to destroy the Reformation. Though unsuccessful, yet they contributed much to retard its progress. In Catholic countries, for three hun- dred years, the Jesuits have violently opposed edu- cation, and sought to prevent the general dissemi- nation of knowledge. In France, when they thought themselves strong enough to crush the colleges, they unblushingly made the attempt; and we have even lived to witness a similar attempt in this country." "GHT, MORE LIGHT. , 219 "Tell me something of the origin of the Order." "Jesuitism was born in Spain, prepared in France, and developed in Rome: there it assimilated itself with the spirit of cosmopolitanism. In Spain, it only thought at first of the possession of the holy sepulchre; arrived in Italy, it becomes more practical-does not stop with coveting a tomb; what it wishes for beside, is the living man,-to make of him a passive instrument in the hands of the Pope and his councils." "How long has the Order been in existence?" ' Something more than three hundred years." "By whom founded?" "Ignatius Loyola, a Spaniard. He appeared a short time before Christopher Columbus; was a remarkable man,-and among his numerous fol- lowers never had an equal. The rules prescribed for his adherents, were very different from those which he himself lived by. A leading doctrine he taught, was the duty of surendering all independ- ence of thought and action. In a book of his, en- titled, 'Spiritual Exercises,' there is a rule thus conceived: 'If the authority declare, that what seems to you white, is black, affirm that it is black.' A more perfectly organized Order than the Jesuits, exists not on the globe. Unwaveringlittached to the past, Jesuitism is opposed to progress, alike in science, religion and politics. Full of treachery and deceit, it moves slily and stealthily through the earth, gaining in the darkness what it loses in the light." page: 220-221[View Page 220-221] / (Ctaptn 22. Lizzie Allen and the Coquette. A tree hath its branches, and so hath a story. Lop the branches off the tree, and its beauty is de- stroyed; cut off the ramifications of a story and it is marred, left void of interest, and unattractive. Let not the critic complain then, though the writer oft turn aside from the main design and chief ob- iect of his narrative. I incline to give some further account of Eliza- beth Allen who deserted the cloister, as the reader will remember, after having for a short time worn the veil. Lizzie Allen was a young, innocent, warm- hearted, sweet girl. Immaculated in her own thoughts and feelings, she was slow to believe that any one of fair speech and honest seeming could have base intentions. Alas, poor girl! little had she learned of frail human nature! Some time after she had left the convent it was Lizzie's misfortune to receive the attentions of a hollow-hearted coxcomb, on whom she bestowed her first love. About the same time she had made the acquaintance of Drucilla Goodwin, an accom- plished coquette, whose chief delight was in the conquest of hearts. (220) "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 221 Ralph Darlington. the coxcomb already mention- ed, after making the impression he was ambitious to make upon the too susceptible heart of Lizzie j Allen, began to neglect her, and to flirt with other young ladies. This unkindness Lizzie's sensitive nature keenly felt. One day in conversation with Drucilla, she relat- ed with honest simplicity the brief history of her love. In alluding to the cold indifference which Darlington was beginning to show towards her, she remarked despondingly: "'Tis little use to have a heart in this heartless world!" "Say you so, Lizzie?" responded Drucilla. "I feel so." "You possess too much heart-that's the trouble; its throbs are too miyt in that tender breast of ,thine." "Yet I would not cast aught of it away; for what were life without a heart to feel?" ';Less bitter, be assured." "But then, nothing would remain worth living for." "Wait, Lizzie, till you have seen a few more summers, and all such sentimentality will vanish into thin air." "I hope not." "Yes, but it must be so; when your heart a thousand times hath bled, you'll gladly have it turn to stone." "Then let me die." "With a heart of adamant, you might the better live." page: 222-223[View Page 222-223] 222 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. "My poor heart, I know, costs me many sighs and tears; 6but its sensibilities I must cherish still.' "Why cherish that which brings you misery? Believe me, trample down these tender sensibili- ties, and you'll breath freer." ' Sooner fat let me cease to breath. No treas- ures do. I prize like heart-treasures." "Yet how prodigal of those treasures! You lavish your heart's best affection and sweetest per- fume on a worthless object: that profligate Darling- ton-the mere semblance of, a man-a rake-an unfeeling reprobate! Ten thousand such would be dearly purchased at the expense of a single sigh." "I know not why I love him." "'Tis at least a pity that you have been so weak as to confess your love." "I scarcely know why I did it." "It has but served to inflate his silly vanity; he's an unfeeling wretch, who knows no true affection; never possessed a heart-or if he did, 'twas hard and cold as marble. Take my advice, turn co- quette; practice flirtation; have a dozen beaux or more-and be revenged by paying back the same coin you have received." "O, I cannot think of playing a part so false and vain; besides such a course of life would ren- der me most unhappy.", "You'd soon become hardened to it." "First my heart must wither and die within my bosom." "Well, let it wither and die as mine has; better so than endure the torture which is ever the lot of "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 223 a highly sensitive spirit. Like you, I once had a heart full of sympathy and tender sensibilities; but now I've a heart of adamant;-contact with the gross and remorseless hath made me so. I tell you, men are corrupt and vile;-with them, love is but a name; we can believe none of them; none: all are false, treacherous and deceitful." "Say not all, Drucilla."' "Yes, all-I will say all; no confidence have I in men: and therefore delight to sport with their shallow affections-make them believe I love, then laugh at their credulity." "I must believe, Drucilla, there may be found among them some true and pure hearts, that beat responsive to hearts of truth and purity." "But a dream, Lizzie, all a dream-an empty dream! my word for it, y6u'll find it so-" "Ere I do, may life's pulsations cease, and the cold grave receive this fiail form." a Have less of heart, Lizzie, and you'll know less of sorrow." "Give me misery, with a heart to feel, rather than make me queen of the whole earth and doom me to heartlessness." "Alas, Lizzie, quite unsuited is thy frail form for this bleak world." page: 224-225[View Page 224-225] d^iaptnr 23. Charles Clinton and the perfumed exquisites. "CHARLES CLINTON chanced on a particular occa- sion to be in company with Ralph Darlington and Willis Dennis: the latter were acquaintances; but not the chosen associates of Charles. It was Sab- bath afternoon; Darlington and Dennis had on their best suits; and were perfumed and bejeweled quite profusely. Their conversation very natural- ly turned upon ladies and love making, but more upon their exquisite selves. After boasting of the impression he had made on Miss Allen, as well as a number of other young ladies, he said to Dennis with a half serious, half contemptuous air: C The fact is, Willis, Lizzie's a fine girl! And so very unsophisticated!-hang me if she ,don't be- lieve all I say, and take my extravagant profes- sions of love for sincerity." ' Women are women the world over 1" respond- ed Dennis, adjusting his dickey and smoothing his moustache with an air of importance. ' Good Lord, how unsuspecting they are! A man may play upon their credulity to any extent he pleases." "You ought to hear me talk flummery to them sometimes." (224) \ "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 225 ' No doubt 'twould be rich; but the way I draw Lizzie on isn't common." "She's taken with you, and no mistake." "I guess and how she is! She'd give both her eyes for me. But I've anotlbtriumph in pros- pect." I "Who next takes your attention?" "It's not so much my attention that's taken, I'll have you know; but rather I've taken the atten- tion of the pretty Miss Drucilla Goodwin, who has jilted so many beaux." "She wants another feather in her cap, no doubt." "But I reckon the feather will be in my cap; she's smitten this time in good earnest." "Have you addressed her?" 'No, not yet; but I'n just as certain she's in love with me as if I had courted her a twelvemonth. Actions speak a thundering sight louder than words." "So they do; but if you don't fare as her other victims have, I'm no prophet, that's all." "Never fear for that; she's struck, but I aint." "And are you going to quit Lizzie Allen alto- gether, after promising to marry her?" "Oh, pshaw! what think you I care for Lizzie Allen-or any promises I ever made her? Non- sense! I, never dreamed of marrying the like of her." Charles Clinton, who up to this time had re- mained silent, remarked: "I'll tell you what, Ralph--" "Well, what'll you tell me?" 19. page: 226-227[View Page 226-227] 226 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. "That you remind me of a certain fellow whom I esteem a great knave." "Very complimentary, Mr. Clinton." "Not particularly so; but sometimes I lile to let certain men know in what estimation I hold them." "Let me tell you, sir, I don't relish such insinua- tions." "The truth, I know, is not always palatable." "What you've intimated is to my taste, con- founded unpalatable." "Yet it may be the truth still." "If it were, that's but a poor apology; the truth's not always to be spoken." "It sometimes, at least, should be." "Yes, when it is likely to profit and not offend him who hears it." ' That which profits should not offend." "But what you've said, is an offense without profit." "Rebuke a wise man, says Solomon, and he will be yet wiser." "Solomon who?" "King Solomon." "King or no king, I care not; 'tis false-I'm none the wiser for your rebuke." "The same inspired writer hath said: 'Though you bray a fool in a mortar, yet will not his fool- ishness depart from him."' "Insult upon insult! What mean you, Clinton? Why all this abuse? What's Lizzie Allen to you?" "She's an innocent, simple-hearted, unsuspect- ing girl. Besides, I allow no man, with impunity, "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 227 to speak reproachfully of the sex in my presence." "A Woman's Rights man, I dare say, out and out! A disciple, perhaps, of Lucy Stone?' "There's a certain class of men sometimes to be met with, who take a malicious pleasure in ut- tering foul insinuations against the female sex, and aspersing the characters of the purest and most an- gelic class of women. Such men I cannot but detest; I abhor them. Impure in their own minds, they see no purity in others." "Wait till you know as much about women as I do, and you'll have less confidence in them.' "Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind." "Still complimentary-I begin to understand why you're so touchy; I'll venture you've fallen in love with Lizzie.' "She's at least worthy of being loved; few ladies have I known whom I esteem more highly. Her greatest weakness is in being deceived by your hollow professions. The honesty of her own heart blinds her to your insincerity; and therefore you take advantage of her innocenec." "Innocence! Who is innocent?" 'I marvel not to hear you ask who. Echo, within your own hollow breast, says, Who? for naught dwells there to tell of such a thing as in- nocence." CaTime then a villain." "I might call you by a name less appropriate." "Henceforth we cease to be friends." "I crave not the friendship of a calumniator and knave." Saying which Charles withdrew, leavihg Dennis and Darlington to pursue their conversa- tion alone. / page: 228-229[View Page 228-229] $ ayter 24+. A game of Coquetry-The crest-fallen Coxcomb. "I'M glad, Lizzie," remarked Drucilla, "truly glad you've succeeded in withdrawing your mis- placed affections; Ralph Darlington never was worthy of your confidence and esteem, much less of your love." "Never was I wholly blind to his faults, yet a strange spell too long bound me to him." "Love is a mysterious power,-and oft leads poor mortals headlong to ruin." "As it well-nigh had me." "i Darlington must be paid back for his duplicity and false-heartedness towards you. He's just the kind of a man I like to coquette." "He thinks himself quite irresistible." "Yes, fully persuaded in his own mind that no lady can withstand his attractions! He must be paid back; and, Lizzie, whether it's with your con- sent or not, you shall yet be avenged: I'll retaliate for you upon the graceless coxcomb." "How propose you to accomplish it?", "I'll coquette him to death; then send him adrift." (228) "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 229 "But how can you expect to enamour one so destitute of a heart." "There's something in him that'll answer my purpose just as well; I'll play upon his inflated van- ity. Let me tell you precisely how such a fellow can be roped in: first flatter, fawn, and pretend to love him; then seem suddenly captivated with some one else, treat himwith neglect, till he feels himself eclipsed. That will awaken all the jealousy and envy of his nature; and those selfish feelings he'll mistake for love. Such men deceive themselves just in that way. Once get a fellow into that predicament, and you may do what you please with him." "Are you really in earnest, Drucilla, about co- quetting Darlington." "Most certainly I am; and if you want to see something of the lower strata of human nature, just observe his maneuvers when I get hirr fairly entangled in my meshes." "Well, I'll neither encourage nor dissuade you. I'm confident, at least, there'll be no heart break- ing." At this juncture, Ralph Darlington, who was the subject of conversation between the young ladies, chanced to call. Miss Goodwin, who sat near the window of the apartment, observing him before he reached the threshold, said: "There he comes now." "Yes, 'tis Ralph; Ill withdraw, Drucilla, that you may have a fair chance to feed him flummery." As Lizzie retired to another apartment Drucilla glided to the hall door, and putting on a coquettish At page: 230-231[View Page 230-231] 230 LIfrM RE LIGHT. air, received Darlington with smiles and blandish- ments that almost threw him into what he termed, a "caniption;" so far was he overcome, that his feet got into a tangle, which came near throwing him down before he reached the drawing-room. Discovering that her flattery was striking in upon the self-conceited fop, she determined to pile up the agony still stronger. With all the blandness of a May morning, she said: "I'm delighted to see you, Mr. Darlington!-was just thinking of you; how glad I am you've called!" "I hope you'll excuse me, Miss Goodwin, for not calling more frequently;" replied the inflated beau, with an excruciating air, "I'm urged so much to visit elsewhere among the numerous young ladies who have pushed their acquaintance upon me, that I've really slighted you,-but by no means inten- tionally." "Indeed, I've felt myself slighted, Mt. Darlington; for I've heard of you bestowing so much attention on other young ladies! I musn't be envious, yet I'm unwilling that others should monopolize your attention whilst I'm forgotten." "Rest assured, Miss Goodwin, that while mem- ory lasts you'll not be forgotten." "But I understand you're dangerously in love with Lizzie Allen." "Ha! ha! ha! Lizzie Allen!" he iterated, con- temptuously. "You'll deny it, of course.' "You certainly can't suppose that I care any- thing for Lizzie Allen." "At least you made her believe you did." "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 231 "As to what she may believe, that's another thing. I never once thought of being serious with her; indeed, I think Lizzie perfectly insipid." "'Tis too bad, Mr. Darlington, for a fascinating, bewitching young man like you, to be making such sad havoc among the tender hearts of the ladies." "Fascinating, you say? Bewitching? Now really do you think me fascinating, Miss Drucilla?" "Ho! ho! why ask me such a question? How can I help falling into the universal opinion? Do not all marriageable ladies think you irresistible?', "Hem!" said Ralph, strutting back in his chair, and fingering his moustache most complacently. "The door-bell just rang; please excuse me a moment, Mr. Darlington:' "Certainly, Miss Goodwin." No sooner had the coquette left the room, than Ralph began to give vent to the efervesence of his -feelings in a soliloquy; it ran as follows: "By Jupiter, aint I some pumpkins! She's in love with me heels over headb! The belle of the city! What a triumph! If that's/not a featherin my cap I wouldn't say so. She's sacked twenty beaux or more--and now i've won her without an effort! The way I'll flirt with her will not be common. Will not her old beaux envy me? Glory onoughl for one day! I wonder who rang the bell; she seems to stay a plague of a while at the door; I'll just take a peep out at the window hare. 'Hang me if it isn't Will'am Elmore; he's coming in,--confound the fellow,-I wish he were to the devil!" " Ah, here's Mr. Dar ngton,' said Elmore, enter- ing the drawing-room, ) Xy X% page: 232-233[View Page 232-233] 232 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. "Yes,.I'm here, sir," said Ralph, grumly, and without rising from his seat. ' Gentlemen, you'll please entertain each other, and excuse me for a few minutes," remarked Dru- cilla; and leaving Elmore and Ralph together alone, went into another room to arrange her toilet. "Well, William," remarked Darlington, " would you believe it? I've captivated the reigning belle of the city!" "You don't say!" responded the other, affecting seriousness and great surprize. "But I do. What think you of that?" "Mean you Drucilla Goodwin?" ' To be sure,-Drucilla Goodwin!" "Impossible!" "She confessed it to me with her own lips; and that not ten minutes ago." "Perhaps she was but in jest.". "No, no,-I swear 'twas no jest. She's the worst smitten woman you ever saw!" "I think as much, if smitten with you." "There's your envy showing itself; every young man in community is just so; all are envious be- cause I'm more admired by the ladies than they." "To be envied is sometimes an evidence of ner- it; why not then congratulate yourself?' Why blame me for making conquests? I guess the rest of you would do the same if you could," "Undoubtedly," replied Elmore, with a smile of contempt and derision. "But you needn't imagine I care anything for Drucilla Goodwin; only intend to flirt with her a while for the fun of it, and to show certain folks what I can do." "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 233 Drucilla now made her appearance;-and as she ent efr poom, saw through an open window a young gentleman driving up in a buggy: "There comes Mr. James," he remarked, "I must go out and -make an apology; he expects me to accom- pany him this afternoon." "Because I'm here; don't you see," whispered Darlington, turning to Elmore. "Certainly, I see." "I guess you're convinced now.' Then address- ing DrucilIa, who directly reappeared, said: "I'm sorry, Miss Goodwin, that on my account you de- cline riding out with Mr. James." "-By no means on youYt account, Mr. Darlington; I had a previous engagement-I ride out with Mr. Elmore this evening. Just make yourself at home Mr. Darlington; father will be in soon; and here are some very interesting new books on the center- table, with which you may amuse yourself. I'm now ready, Mr. Elmore." And bidding Darlington "Good afternoon," she and Elmore departed to take their pleasure ride. "; By jing, that's cool," soliloquized the chap-fallen coxcomb, 1" after being so devilishy taken with me. She's changeable as the wind! Amuse myself with books till the old man comes-ha! Devil take the books and the old man too! I'llpstay no longer;" and making his way out with a crest-fallen air, he added--" 1'll take her out riding to-morrow even- ing-see if I don't." 20 page: 234-235[View Page 234-235] (bhpter 25. Lizzie and Elmore in conversation-The humbugged Lover -Farcical attempt at suicide. "How succeeds Drucilla in coquetting Ralph Dar- lington?" enquired Lizzie Allen, addressing Wil- liam Elmore. "She has a little the worst humbugged him," replied Elmore, "of any poor fellow you ever saw. She sometimes flatters, and sometimes gives him the flat; frequently goes out riding, and sometimes to balls with him; and occasionally puts him in a fume by preferring others. Darlington regards me, particularly, as his rival; for through Drucilla's persuasion, I've consented to help her carry out the joke. I see no use in it, but she insists that it'll teach the puppy, as she calls him, a salutary lesson -and possibly it may." "Drucilla, is undoubtedly a singular girl; how she can take pleasure in such a game, I'm quite at a loss to conceive." "To her, its rare sport; and truly she plays her part to admiration." "Highly capable, too, of practicing the art; not only is Drucilla pretty, but her manners are pleas- ing, andsconversation winning." "Think you she ever really loved?" "Yes, and more than once, as I learn; but it (234) LlGHT, MORE LIGHT. 5 seems she had the misfortune at first to become at- tached to such as were incapable of appreciating her; and whom she found to be false-hearted. Thus, no doubt, she lost confidence in the sincerity and affections of men." "There are so many men who prove their pro- fessions of love to be insincere, 'tis not strange that women sometimes doubt them all." "I esteem not Drucilla unkind at heart; yet she has, in her wild career, thoughtlessly sported with the affections of some noble minded, true hearted young men. Were she to confine her conquests to such men as Darlington, there perhaps would be little harm in it." "True.' "However beautiful or gifted, the coquette is not to be envied.' "By no means; her life must necessarily be an unhappy one." William Elmore was a young man of excellent qualities; not only as to habits and deportment, but of mind and heart. His first calls upon Miss Allen, were merely formal, and without the least thought of forming an attachment; but Lizzie's sweet simplicity soon more deeply interested him, and at length won his heart. Drucilla Goodwin carried the jest with Darling- ton perhaps to an unwarrantable extent: she even went so far as to make him believe she intended marrying him. Still she continued to flirt with others, and kept his jealousy perpetually excited. He finally determined to bear it no longer; so one page: 236-237[View Page 236-237] 236 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. Sabbath afternoon he called upon Drucilla, in a great fever, and seemingly wrought up almost to desperation, unceremoniously entering the room where Miss Goodwin was sitting alone-he strutted a few times across the floor, with folded arms, without uttering a word; then suddenly pausing, turned to Drucilla, bending a fierce in- dignant gaze upon her and said, angrily: "I'll tell you what, my lady, you and I have to come to an understanding-and that immediately. Such flirtations as you're in the constant habit of, don't suit me by upwards of a good deal." "Now are you really in earnest, Mr. Darling- ton?" "Most assuredly I am; and you'll find it out be- fore you're many days older. I am not to be trifled with, understand that!" "What, not ruffled, my darling?" "Ruffled! I'm worse than ruffled a tarnal sight! and if somebody don't mind her P's and Q's, she'll wish she had, mind I tell you." "You're only teasing me, love." "Don't call me, LOVE, while you're in love with a dozen more." "Not jealous? No, no, I won't believe it;" said she, at the same time coquettishy patting him on the cheek. "How cn a man help seeing what he sees?" "The easiest thing in the world, just shut your eyes." "The devil! yes, yes, I reckon you'd be con- founded willing for me to shut my eyes when you ride out with Bill Elmore, and receive calls from Charley Clinton." "GAT, MORE LIGHT. . 237 "How you talk, my dear!" "'None of your dearing round me any more; I guess there's reason for me to talk." "' What reason, pray? Don't you know that Charles Clinton's engaged to Josephine Elbridge, about whom he nearly went crazy while she was in the Convent-then what in the name of thunder do you mean by encouraging his attentions? And as to Elmore, he's courting Lizzie Allen; what business then have you flirting with him?" "Oh, mere friendship, you know; and besides, we all like variety." I "Friendship! I understand it;--variety! hell! Im not sufficient, ha? That's confessing the truth; I'd already suspected as much; yes, yes, I've grown stale, insipid, lost my perfume! and you must needs run after some body else for variety! It's enough to try the patience of the angel Gabriel!" "But I'm sure you'll not get out of patience with me, my honeysuckle!" "Drucilta you've got to quit your flirtations or I'll quit you-that's the plain English of it." "Have you never been in the habit of giving your attentions to several young ladies at the same time?" "But that's a very different thing you must know; I'm a man, and you're a woman." "Truly, that alters the case; but I've some apology for keeping more than one string to my bow." ' What's that, I'd like to know?" "Why, you've not yet fully consented to marry me." page: 238-239[View Page 238-239] 238 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. "No, and I'm beginning to think it doubtful whether I will." !"Then I'm justifiable in looking out somewhere else. You are perhaps not aware that a rich mer- chant down street has offered me his hand?" "Who, who?" "Mr. Rose.' Mr. Rose! I think he must have had unac- countable impudence! You gave him the flat of course 9 ' I thought it better not to decline the offer till I knew more fully your mind; and since I find you doubtful, it would, perhaps, be wise in me to take the certainty." A rich merchant down street-Mr. Rose-has offered you his hand! Did'nt he know I had prior claims?" "If he did, I didn't." "Come now, it's not worth while to have a fall- ing out: I consider we're engaged." "Well, I'm to give Mr. Rose an answer this evening; and now if we come to terms it must be at once. When say you our marriage shall be consummated?" ' We'll consider that hereafter." "No, its to be decided now; and if you and I ever marry, we marry to-morrow. I'll give you ten minutes to decide," saying which she left the apartment. "Heavens and earth!" soliloquized Darlington; "what's this coming to? A half a mind, I swear, she has to take that fellow! A rich merchant! curse upon him! Ten minutes to decide: if I re- "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 239 fuse, she'll be out of my reach before to-morrow- I wont be beat; by Jupiter, I won't! I'll marry her; then she's got to toe the mark." "The coquette, returning, said in a tone of deci- sion: "The time has expired-what's your an- swer?i "Why, as you desire it, I'm willing to marry you." "But' sir, you've got to be a little more than willing-you must be anxious." And again she left him alone. "She's getting confounded independent!" said he to himself-looking not a little disconcerted. Upon returning, Drucilla said: "Be candid-are you anxious?" "Well, I can't say but what I am a little so. "That won't do, sir, you must be sure you're anxious." "Yes, certainly I'm sure of it;" he drawls with reluctant intonations. "You'll marry me to-morrow?" "Yes, I reckon." "Beyond doubt?" "Yes, without doubt." "Or the shadow of a doubt?" "Yes." "Or the shadow of a shade?" "Yes." Or even the shade of a shadow?" "Yes, yes!" "You most solemnly promise to marry me to- morrow?' "Yes, most solemnly promise." page: 240-241[View Page 240-241] 240 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. "And swear?" "Yes, promise and swear." "Ha! ha! ha! You booby; you green horn; you tpstart! To think I'd be fool enough to marry the like of you! hat ha! ha!"And dashing from the room, the coquette left her disappointed beau to console himself the best he could. Chagrined, confused, confounded, he stood for some moments like a statue, then broke forth in the language of desperation: "'Tis too much for human nature to bear! I'll hang myself-be hanged if I don't! I'll warrant when she sees me hanging a pale, lifeless corpse, she'll be sorry for such a caper." ' Goaded by the terrible ebullition of outraged feelings, he made his way to a barn near by, deter- mined to put his threats of violence into execution. Charles Clinton and Elmore, according to previous arrangement, having secreted themselves in an ad- joining room, overheard Darlington's soliloquy, as well as all that passed between him and Drucilla. Bent on seeing all the fun, they slily followed the suicide to his chosen place of death, and there se- creted themselves to witness the dire tragedy; con- fident, however, no blood would be spilt. Darlington finding a rope of sufficient strength, made one end of it fast to a beam over head, and the other he tied round his neck. Before swinging off, the despairing man thus soliloquized: ' Here I'll end my being: life's a burden too grievious to be borne! Farewell, vain world-I'm going-blast the thing, it chokes me! Hang- ing must be a hard way to die. I believe I'd rath- "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 241 er shoot myself; it would be sooner over; and then there's more honor in it-it'll be dying the death of a soldier! He e's a pistolI always ctrry--and it's sure fire--* * Oh, the devil! It's hard for a man to murder hinself-Iwish to the Lord some one would come and shoot my brains out for me!" "I can accomodate you," said Elmore, rushing in, and snatching the pistol from Darlington's hand presented it to his breast, as if in good earnest. Throwing up both hands, Darlington, in great consternation, cried out: "Don't shoot! don't shoot! for God's sake, don't shoot!" Ralph Darlington bechme a sedate and sober- minded man; and in after years was often heard to say, that Drucilla Goodwin gave him the most profitable lesson he ever received in his life. He never, however, possessed the intellectual stamina necessary to make him a very distinguished or inl fluential citizen. Lizzie Allen, though unhappy in her first love, was more fortunate in her second: she married William Elmore, a man worthy of her, and with whom she lived most happily. 21 page: 242-243[View Page 242-243] Josephine becomes the wife of Charles Clinton-The re- markable dream. A FEW years had passed: Josephine Elbridge was now Mrs. Clinton. It was a rosy morning in the smiling month of May; Charles and Josephine were sitting together underneath a beautiful, vine-clad arbor, near their cottage dwelling ;-a lovely child with sunny locks and bright, blue eyes, sat upon the youthful father's knee, prattling merrily. "My rose-bud!" sajd Josephine, caress- ingly; and stooping, kissed the ruby lips of her smiling babe; then put into its tiny fingers a fresh blown rose she had just plucked. The little cherub was delighted with the present, but direct- ly tore it to pieces. "Spoil your pretty flower so soon, my sweet lleloisc!" said the mother, gently patting her on the cheek, "' ut I'll not scold thee, dear,-for riper years I've know-1 guilty of greater folly." "Yes., sth(, is the firailty of our nature," remark- ed Cliiton, t ;,^ Ilrihgltecst objects and best gifts of heaven 1 w (:,on,l s II;ar, and readiest cast away." ti Sucllh wa-s W/ till y, returned Josephine, "when I took tli' veil, to cast aside the brightest and sweetest cham's of earth: And now I'm remind- (242) "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 243 ed, Charles, of a most singular dream I had last night." ' A dream! you seldom speak of dreams." "True; but this made a remarkable impression on my mind. It was caused, I incline to think, by a train of gloomy reflections I was foolish enough to indulge in yesterday afternoon while you were absent. My thoughts, unawares, had wandered back to St. Mary's of the Woods; and an unac- countable superstitious feeling came over me; I felt for a moment that I had sinned and ruined my soul by deserting the cloister. When almost ready to pronounce myself a reprobate, Heloise, who had for some time sat quietly upon my lap, looked up with a smile, and sweetly articulated- 'Ma!'-clasping her to my bosom, I exclaimed with- in my heart-' Thank heaven that I did forsake the convent! had I remained a recluse, this treasure, this precious jewel, I should ne'er possessed." "A happy thought, my dear-but now tell me your dream." 'eWell, it seemed to me that I was again com- mencing my youthful career--that it was the ear- ly spring-tinme of life: full of hilarity and mirth, and accompanied by many gay companions, I was tripping along a flowery pathway; the pros- pect before us was enchanting! Through spicy groves, laden with golden fruits and vocal with the music of birds, we glided on, with hearts full of transport, and o'erflowing with joy! Suddenly, and to our great surprise, there appeared before us a man of ghastly countenance, and wearing a priestly garb. In a doleful voice he spake, say- page: 244-245[View Page 244-245] 244 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. ing -'Beware!' then looking heavenward, he made the sign of the cross, and to himself mum- bled a hurried prayer;-again bending a fearful gaze upon us, while we stood transfixed with fear, in awful, solemn tones, he said: ' This is the way of death. These enticing fruits and flowers, these syren voices, and those enchanting hills you see in the prospect, are but designed to lead poor mortals to endless ruin! This road, you so much delight to tread, hath a frightful terminus-that terminus, is the mighty deep and fiery void of hell!' In terrible dismay I cried aloud: 'Whither shall we fly?' 'Follow me,' said he, and beckoning, turn- ed away. Seized with a strange infatuation, I with a few others forsook the path of pleasure; some would not go; and affectionately remonstrat- ed against our repudiation of life's sweetest charms to obey the summons of a gloomy religion. With heart-rending sorrow we bade them adieu, and fol lowed our spiritual guide, who led us to a desert waste, through burning sands, and sometimes, o'er rugged steeps, and along thorny ways; every step in our progress was painful, and through dismal, fruitless, flowerless regions. And still darker and more dismal grew the way, tntil life became a bur- den too intolerable to bear. When about yielding to despair, lo, a bright cloud, resembling a pillar of fire, descended, and upon it stood an angel, whose countenance beamed with dazzling effulgence, shedding about us a divine halo. 'With a voice of gentleness, and sweet, celestial intonations, the smiling angel spake: 'Deluded children, why seek ye light amid darkness? why expect life where "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 245 death triumphant reigns? There is a better way to heaven-a highway, where golden sunbeams play, and flowers of pleasure grow. The great God of light, and life designed you to be happy; wherefore think ye that needless pain can win his smiles? Believe my words, you most offend the author of your being by choosing darkness and misery, while ye voluntarily refuse the light of life, and the sparkling cup of joy. He who led thee in- to this desolate and cheerless region, is blind, err- ing, and the slave of sin. Claiming to be a spirit- ual guide, he is earthly, sensual and devilish. If thou wilt follow me, dear children, I will lead you into the highway of holiness.' Hope sprang up in our hearts, and with eager steps we followed our angelic guide, who soon led us into a celestial realm, where all was beauty and delight; and where peace and harmony reigned. Then were our eyes opened to see that God was pleased when we rejoiced. A gush of sweet, celestial music fell upon my ear; and with the transport I awoke." "A most singular dream it was, my love," said the husband, " and not without meaning, I'm im- pressed to believe." "Give me then the interpretation, Charles." "I incline to take it thus: it pictures to your mind's eye the folly and madness of abjuring the world, and casting away all that's bright and beau- tiful, thereby thinking to please God and gain heaven. In a vivid light, you see the absurdity of what was taught you in the convent, and feel how preposterous it is to accept of a religion which re- quires the heart to relinquish every dear object to page: 246-247[View Page 246-247] 246 LIGHT, MOlE LIGHT. which it clings on the earth; and which fetters the/ intellect, and renders life useless and a burden. It shows you that true pleasure, and rational en- joyments, are not incompatible with a life of piety; that the road to heaven is not a steep and thorny way, but o ne of delight,-leading through flowery plains, and along pleasant brooks and vales. And it also teaches you not to be deceived by priest- craft; and to beware of false guides, who with solemn voices and sanctimonious seeming, seek to ensnare and lead you into darkness and slavery." "I like the interpretation, Charles; beyond a doubt you've hit the meaning of the vision. I trust it will prove a profitable lesson to me;-and that I will never again indulge in a similar train of su- perstitious reflections to that I told you of, and which no doubt induced the remarkable dream I have just related." "If there be a true and divine religion, Josephine, it must be in harmony with reason and nature. We may know any system of theology to be false, that outrages reason and common sense. Roman- ism is irrational, unnatural and revolting to all the finer and better feelings of the human heart; and therefore must be untrue." C apttr 27. Charles Clinton's Infidelity-Sabbath morning conversation. A CONTEMPLATION of the gross absurdities and irra- tionality of Romanism, had, upon the mind of Charles Clinton an infidel tendency; and at length led him into downright scepticism. For a length of time he studiously concealed from Josephine, who became a devoted Christian, his infidel sentiments. He chanced, however, at last, to betray his unbe- lief; which gave no little concern and anxiety to his affectionate wife. Josephine, being a woman of excellent reasoning faculties, and much devoted to reading, was by no means at a loss for arguments in meeting Charles' objections to Christianity. One Sabbath morning Josephine kindly approached him, and saidt "Come, my love, arrange your toilet, and go with me to church to-day." "Certainly, if you insist, my dear," replied the husband, "Ill accompany you." "'Tis with hesitancy I insist, when it's so appa- rent you take no pleasure in attending church." "It is only for your sake, Josephine, that I ever go; for sermonizing, I must confess, is a great bore to me.' (247) page: 248-249[View Page 248-249] 248 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. "Why is it so, Charles?" ' I've so little faith in what's preached." "Were you to acquaint yourself more with Chris- tianity, I'm persuaded you'd be less inclined to dis- credit revelation." "I must own that I've given but little time to the study of the Bible, and have never seriously examined what are termed the internal, external, and collateral evidences of its divinity.' "You've allowed the errors of Romanism to ob- scure the sun of righteousness, and conceal from your view the excellencies of that religion which is pure and undefiled." "The abominations of Popery, I confess, have don} much to prejudice my mind against the Chris- tiar religion." "But, bear in mind, Charles, that Popery is one thing and Christianity another." "When I see the vilest men pretending to be the ministers of Christ, and claiming to be divinely commissioned to rule the earth, enlighten the blind, guide the erring, reclaim and save the lost, I must confess myself tempted to repudiate all religion." "That, however, is not universally, nor even generally the case, you're bound to admit." "If history speaks the truth, Josephine, priests in every age, with here and there a rare exception among their number, have been the most corrupt men on the face of the globe! Now if the Bible sanctions such lives as they lead, why, then 'tis plain it sanctions crime-the worst of crime! How then, can rational minds believe it to be the word of God? If Christianity fails to benefit and improve "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 249 the lives of those who embrace it, pray tell me what it is worth?" "Catholic priests I acknowledge not to be the true ministers of Christ. Rest assured, the Bible gives no countenance to unrighteousness, nor aught that's abominable or unholy. Yet, alas, 'tis true that evil minded men, claiming to be ministers of our holy religion, sometimes have sought to shield their vile conduct behind the Word of God, and to find therein excuse for their crimes." "If what you call revelation be of divine origin, why, let me ask, is it so easily perverted; and why so readily rendered impotent and inefficient by wicked and designing men?' "See you not that all of heaven's best gifts and richest blessings may be, and are daily abused and perverted by transgressors? The laws of nature, which exist for our benefit, and contribute perpet- ually to our happiness and preservation, men in their folly oft turn against themselves. There is nothing placed within the reach of man but what may be turned to a curse and rendered an instru- ment of evil." "True, but a religion claiming God for its author ought to shine with an undimmed effulgence, that, in spite of earth and hell, would always make its glory visible." "Clouds, you know, may veil the brightness of the sun; yet how pure is the light of his glorious orb! and how powerful his rays! So may error, ignorance and superstition obscure for a time the great luminary of Christianity. The natural sun, for hours or days, may be hidden from mortal l page: 250-251[View Page 250-251] 250 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. sight by thick vapors, yet not blotted from the skies, nor at all diminished in luster;-when those rolling sheets of smoke and mist pass away, he shines with the same dazzling splendor he did before. So it ever will be with the divine orb of Christianity, hung out in the moral heavens to en- lighten the benighted nations of the earth; for a while its light and beauty may seem extinguished, but again will it shine forth in all the majesty of its glory." "It is the avowed object of the Christian system to lead men to God, enlighten and save them: still a large majority, after a long lapse of more than eighteen centuries, are found confessedly unsaved, unenlightened and far from God. Now how shall we account for the failure?' "Well, let us see if the same objection does not lie againstyour position: I've sometimes heardyou say that to your mind, nature appeared a full and sufficient revelation. Now you'll not deny that the mass of men as little understand and appreciate the sublime truths and great principles of nature, as they do the teachings of revelation. Compara- tively few are to any extent enlightened in the book of creation. If, then, you argue that Christi- anity is a failure, and therefore not of God, because all men have not thereby been enlightened and made virtuous and happy-upon a parity of rea- soning, I may maintain that nature is a failure, and therefore not of God. The universe is a volume full of wisdom, and throughout its ample pages replete with lessons of instruction to reflecting minds; yet 'tis evident, as few are charmed by the "GHT, MORE LIGiT. 251 voice of nature, and attracted by the beauties of cre- ation, as by the excellencies of Christianity, and the inspired word of God. 'Tis true, many who profess a belief in divine revelation, entertain exceedingly inadequate, narrow and unworthy views of its heav- enly principles, teachings and requirements; but the same class of minds have equally narrow, lim- ited and silly notions of the material universe. What do they know about the extent of the empire of worlds? All the astronomers that live could never convince them, even by the clearest demon- trations, of the revolutions, velosity and magni- tudes of the planets. The Roman Bishop who pronounced sentence of death upon Galileo, on condition he did not recant, for teaching the heresy of the earth's revolutions round the sun, certainly comprehended the system of nature as little as he did that of revelation." "True; but my scepticism and inclinations to un- belief extend further, I regret to say, than you even imagine. From discarding the Bible, I've been led even to doubt the existence of a God and the soul's immortality." "Oh, say not so, my husband; surely you deceive yourself-you cannot be such a sceptic. An atheist! Alas, 'tis a comfortless theory; a dark and chilling thought; a fearful and dismal prospect for the mind's eye to look upon.' "I try to persuade myself that I am not an athe- Ist-yet am I inwardly conscious of\bordering upon it." ; Oh, my love, 'tis standing on a frightful preci- pice! The gulf of annihilation! think of it--what is so appalling?" page: 252-253[View Page 252-253] 252 LIGHT, MORE LIuGT. "Yes, yes, 'tis a withering, paralyzing, heart- crushing thought!" 'But with such reasoning faculties, how can you resist the abundant evidence, everywhere un- folded to the reflecting mind, that there is, and reigns a God of infinite power, wisdom and good- ness-and that the human soul is of immortal des- tination?" "Show me that abundant evidence, my dear Jo- sephine.', "The adorable Creator is seen in his works: his attributes and perfections are stamped upon every thing around us; impressed upon all the works of nature; unfolded in the heavens above, and in the earth beneath!" ': 1 know 'tis common to extol nature, and laud creation as perfect, complete, and all harmonious!" "Is it not so, Charles? Can you suggest an im- provement on nature's laws? Or think you cre- ation is wanting in beauty and sublimity?" "By no means wanting, I grant you, in the sub- lime and beautiful. But dost thou see nothing de- fective in the operations of nature?" "Show me what should have been made differ- ently or better than it is." "Well then, hear me: have we not seen the ver- nal season gayly usher in, nature put on her beau- tiful garments of living green, and the blooming earth everywhere give promise of abundant fruits; then suddenly, in a day, the warm, balmy and life-giving breath of spring change to a chilling blast: there comes a nipping frost, like a cold- blooded assassin, with cruel intent, blasting the "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 253 numerous tribes of flowers, tender plants, and budding fruits! Yet see we no discord, no clashing in the works of nature? Whence come pesti- lence, famine, floods, drougths, desolating tempests, earthquakes, and) volcanoes? Undeniably, there are disorders in nature; and they are of frequent occurrence. Add to this, that the world is full of moral evil! How then can you reconcile these things with the idea of God, possessing infinite per- fectiods, and whose will is omnipotent?" "The seeming discord of which you speak, is but harmony not understood. Now consider this: how could we appreciate and enjoy good, without the knowledge of evil? what were harmony with- out the idea of discord'? Life's sunshine without its shadows would give poor delight; think of a pic- ture without the shading! Suppose you that tender emotions, kindly feelings and warm affections, could spring up and grow within a heart that had never felt sorrow? Again, what would health, wealth, and prosperity be worth, if we could form no notion of their opposites? 'Tis plain, without contrast, ths world would be but dull monotony, and life a tasteless, insipid thing. "And yet again, were there nothing defective in the universe, there could be no progress. Much of our happiness lies in progress--in advancing from a less perfect, to a more perfect state. This law of progress gives us the advantage of continual con- trast and comparison-without which, as I've shown, it would be impossible to appreciate any thing. Then it must appear that even the afflic- tions, sorrows and trials which betide us in our "^ page: 254-255[View Page 254-255] 251 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. journey through life, will ultimately enhance our felicity." "Were it left to our choice, I'm inclined to think we'd dispense with the evil, and take only the good, accept of the pleasure, without the advan- tage of the pain." "No doubt we poor mortals would be just that unwise; but our folly changes not the principles of which I speak. Is there no joy in triumph over difficulties and dangers? in overcoming evil with good? in achieving victory in the face of opposi- tion? And do we not find that adversity and af- flictions when properly met, and patiently borne, tend to develope energy of character, and give courage, strength and fortitude to the soul?" "Do not understand me to say that I am con- firmed in atheistical views: I meant only to express the doubts I entertain of there being a God, and the doctrine of the soul's immortality. These doubts, and the dark, impervious clouds of unbe- lief, that perpetually flit across the sky of my mind, paralyze my highest hopes, and sweep away ev- ery incentive to lofty resolves and noble actions! At times, when these apprehensions and misgiv- ings with regard to a future state, press most strongly upon me, I'm unable to behold a single bright spot in all the wide illimitable universe! Then an insupportable gloom settles down like an incubus upon my spirit and the world seems turned to a wilderness, a barren desert, without an oa- sis." "Alas, Charles thou hast suffered thy heart to wander far from God, and art left in utter dark- "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 255 ness. 'Tis written in the divine word-"Keep thy heart with all diligence." "Ah, mine is too wayward;-more fruitful' of vice than of virtue; more prolific of evil than of good." , "Constant watchfulness is requisite; every door, gateway, and avenue to the heart needs to be guarded with the utmost vigilance. Thus may it be rendered fragrant with virtue, and made a gar- den of sweet flowers perfuming all the chambers of the soul." "The:church bell is ringing, love, let us go then, and hear what the preacher has to say." Josephine rested not till she succeded in convinc- ing Charles of his errors, and leading him into a belief of the truth Jlr *r: * * It is gratifying to have it to say, that all the nuns mentioned in our story, who forsook the con- vent of St. Mary's of the Woods, became happy and prosperous, and are now residing at Prairie City, surrounded by numerous friends and relatives. Isadora Greenwood, now Mrs. Irwin, has charge of a female seminary in the same place; is a popular teacher; has a happy home, a kind husband and several interesting children. Josephine's estate was rescued from the avari- cious hands of the priesthood; and her husband, Charles Clinton, is now a wealthy merchant, and an influential citizen. 'Tis now but natural for us to ask, would it have been better, more pleasing in the sight of God, for Josephine, and the other young ladies, page: 256-257[View Page 256-257] 256 LIGiT, MORE LIGHT. who made their escape from St: Mary's of the Woods, to have remained in the gloomy cloister, secluded from society and useless to the world, than to be as they are, active members of soeiety, respected and useful in community, rearing inter- esting children, throwing sunshine upon family circles, and making all around them cheerful and happy? Let sensible men and women judge. A religion, which lessons the sum of human happi- ness, circumscribes moral influence, and darkens, rather than lights the pathway of life, cannot be from above-but from beneath. C rapter 28+ Fannie Brown and Priest Remington. So INTERESTING a character as Fannie Brown must not be forgotten in the conclusion of our story. The reader doubtless has not lost sight of the part she acted in the rescue of the nuns from the gloom of the cloister; and the shrewdness and intrepidity she manifested n her singular and successful adven- ture. Fannie was not long finding another opportunity for a trial of her ingenuity in opposing the progress of Romanism. The affair is worth relating; I will therefore not withhold it from the reader. A young Catholic priest, who had just finished his studies, and entered upon the clerical profes- sion, was given charge' of a congregation in Prairie City. His name was Gabriel Remington. He was a youth of more than ordinary capacity, and possessed an amiable disposition. A native of this country, his mind to a considerable extent was imbued with republican principles, notwithstanding the false edu- cation and improper bias he had received under Romish teachers. Withal, the young priest was handsome, and of polished and winning manners. Fannie Brown, by accident, made his acquain- tance soon after his arrival in the place. 1 22 (257) page: 258-259[View Page 258-259] 258 LIGHT, IORE LIGHT. Priest as he was, and doomed to celibacy, as all Catholic Priests are, Fannie, nevertleless, conceived the novel idea of making an impression upon him. The better to carry out her designs, the eccentric girl found it necessary to use a little dissimulation. So professing to be an inquirer after the true relig- ion, she sought opportunities to converse with the young clergyman. Putting on a serious air and grave countenance, when she went to him as a spiritual adviser, the Reverend youth made doubts, of being able at once to lead her into the light of truth, as he understood it, and convert her to Cath- olicity. He very soon became deeply interested in the agreeable manners and fascinating conversa- tion of Miss Brown, as well as in the salvation of her soul. When convinced she had thrown a- spell upon him, Fannie began making some slight objections to the Catholic faith, and thus, not unfrequently, drew him into an argument, which was the object she aimed at. On one occasion, perceiving some difficulties in her way with regard to becoming a Catholic, he re- marked: "State candidly your objections to our religion, Miss Brown, and let me endeavor to answer them. Peradventure, I shall be able to satisfy you upon the subject.' "I will gladly do so, Mr. Remington, and shall rejoice to have you succeed in removing the ob- stacles out of my way." "My first objection then to Romanism is, that it is opposed to light." "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 259 "Not to the true light, certainly, Miss Brown; but to false lights,--of which there are many in the world." "Among religionists, what is light to some is darkness to others." "'Tis even so; but the holy Catholic, which is the only true Church, hath the light; and in it there's no darkness at all. Why, then, say you our religion is opposed to light?" "It repudiates the dictates f human reason; dis- trusts science and philosoph and turns away from the light of nature." "Human reason is blind; all man's faculties de- praved; science and philosophy not infallible; there. fore the Church only is to be relied on,-all else is fallible." "The doctrine of Church infallibility, by the way, is another objection I have to urge against your system of faith." "There must be infailibility somewhere, and if not in the Church, where is it?" "I strongly incline to the notion that infallibility is nowhere this side of heaven." ( That, allow me to say, is a dangerous heresy." Yet, it must be still more dangerous to rely upon erring men as infallible; taking them for our spiritual guides and divine teachers, while they may be as far from light and trfth as ourselves." "A priest may apostatize, and become fallible; but Popes and their councils have ever held that there is infallibility in the priesthood; that is, the clergy collectively considered, and taken as a body are infallible." page: 260-261[View Page 260-261] 260 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. ( Then I understand you, that evey priest indi- vidually consideredis fallible, but taken collective- ly, and in a body, the clergy must be reckoned in- fallible. "Yes; fallible as individuals; infallible as a body or Church." "It would seem, then, a great many fallibilities put together make an infallibility. To me this seems new logic. How many fallibilities, think you, it would require to constitute one infallibility?" "Ah, you make derision; come, be serious; I'm anxious to lead you out of the ways of error, that your soul may be saved." "Well, then, I'll be serious,--and let us now ar- gue fairly." "But, relying, as you do, so much upon the de- ductions of reason, I find it exceedingly difficult to convince you of the truth." "Certainly truth shrinks not from the deductions of reason. Truth and reason go hand in hand; nor do they ever fall out by the way." "Ah, but pause a moment,-I've known men who deified reason, acknowledged no other God, nor professed to be guided by any other light; yet they were men perpetually influenced by their passions and prejudices; they walked in darkness, and their lives were full of error. "See you not that their lives and conduct gave the lie to their professions? While they lauded reason with their lips, they followed not its dic- tates; for enlightened reason ever seeks to curb the passions, cast off prejudice, and divorce the mind from error. Passion and prejudice are not unfre- quently mistaken by the ignorant and wayward for right reason." "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 261 "Very true; but it must be owned that mere reason is a very insufficient guide in matters of I religion." i "I1 would not maintain that we need nothing more than reason to guide us into all truth; but to my mind nothing is clearer than that irrational re- ligion must be false. The same God who gave us the Scriptures also endowed us with rational pow- ers; to lightly esteem and neglect the latter is no less reprehensible than to spurn and treat with contempt the former. But let us return to my first assertion-Romanism, I said, was opposed to light; this position I still maintain." "What, pray tell me, do you call light?" "An inspired Apostle hath said: 'Whatsoever doth make manifest is light.' A better definition of the term, perhaps, cannot be given. Whatever relieves from obscurity, or makes palpable, may be denominated light. Moral light is to the under- standing what natural light is to the eye. Through the medium of external light the visual organ per- ceives outward objects, and becomes acquainted with the properties of bodies: so, through the me- dium of internal or moral light, the understanding perceives moral objects, and comprehends the na- ture and qualities of moral principles and moral actions. There is an eye of the mind as well as of the body." "But, pray forget not that the former as well as the latter, oft deceives and fearfully misleads us." "Very true; and hence every blunder of the head as well as of the feet. If we walk securely and avoid snares and pitfalls, we must go with our page: 262-263[View Page 262-263] 262 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. eyes open. And if we would shun the dangers and difficulties of moral wrong and error, 'tis important to keep the eyes of the understanding wide awake. Therefore it becomes us to prize our rational facul- ties, and to do all that lies within us to give them scope, strength and brilliancy." "I object not to your definition and explanation of light,-but we may disagree as to the source of divine light, and the medium of its communica- tion." "That is probable; you no doubt hold that we must look to the priesthood to be enlightened; and that religious truth and spiritual instruction come to us through no other medium: while I maintain that nature and revelation, science, and philosophy are full of instruction-and so many channels through which divine light may flow into the hu man soul." "What has science, philosophy, and nature to do in affording to the heart and mind religious instruc- tion." ' Much; I think much, Mr. Remington." "Please explain." "Look, then, upon the luminous pages unfolded in the great and sublime book of nature: at a glance we are struck with the matchless display of wisdodm, power and goodness; and then are we at once led to ascribe these attributes to God. And meditat- ing upon the vastness, variety, and glory of his works, our hearts are filled with sentiments of praise and adoration. We see, too, perpetually surrounding us evidences of his unspeakable kind- "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 263 ness and infinite love, which inspire our bosoms with gratitude, and incline us to lives of piety and acts of devotion." " But, what signify acts of devotion when not performed in God's appointed way?" "I must regard it but an assumption on the part of the Catholic Church, that the mode of worship, and the forms and ceremonies observed within her pale, have been prescribed by heaven. It must be that Deity regards more the spirit than the form of an action; and that he looks more at the intention of the heart than at the outward act." At considerable length Fannie went on to show that the works of nature, and that all of science and philosophy tended to shed such light on the mind as was calculated to give enlarged, ennob- ling and exalted views of God, and to lead man- kind to righteousness, happiness and, harmony. Finally, she lead the priest into a discussion of the Scriptures; upon which they exhibited greater con- trariety of opinion than on any preceding topic. "I think it most extraordinary, Mr. Remington," said Fannie,'" that the clergy of your Church should disallow to the laity the privilege of reading and understanding the Scriptures for themselves. And this, by the way, is another reason I have for say- ing Romanism is opposed to light." "The laity, you must understand, Miss Brdwn, lose nothing by that injunction; for, without the trouble of studying the Scriptures, they have im- parted to them by the priesthood all that's necessary for them to know. Beside, without the aid of the clergy they could not rightly understand the Scrip- tures." . page: 264-265[View Page 264-265] "Were you contending with an infidel, Mr. Remington, that would be a fatal admission. He would ask you,-has God made a revelation which cannot be understood until it is again revealed? Certainly it cannot be that the infinitely wise God should fail to make himself understood. By with- holding the Scriptures from the people, the Catho- lic clergy have done much to retard the progress of light, and keep the world in darkness." "But, be admonished, Miss Brown, while you are so zealous for the spread of light, that there are lights springing up in the earth which come not from heaven, and sometimes prove more fatal than darkness." "Let us fear not the light, spring from what source it may. My prayer is-light, more light! Above all things, give uslight." i I 1 i C apter 29. 'A priest in love-Renunciation of Romanism-Abduction- Pannie's adventure-The rescue. Time passed on: Remington's interest in Fannie Brown continually deepened; his interviews with her became more frequent, rind respect gradually ripened into love. Unconsciously the tender pas- sion kindled in his bosom, and ere he was aware, the bewitching Fannie held a power over him he could by no means throw off. Though deeply im- bued with the Catholic faith, yet Fannie's conver. sations with him upon theology had tended greatly to, liberalize his views. By the bye, the young priest's affection for Miss Fannie by no means went unreciprocated; she too, yet most unexpect- edly to herself, began to love. Remington's partialities for Miss Brown, mani- fested by his frequent calls upon her, began to at- tract general notice, and awaken suspicion on the part of his Catholic brethren; nor was he long suf- fered to go unadmonished by the Bishop of' the diocese. His religious scruples warring against his love, produced in Remington's mind a severe conflict. Notwithstanding the reprimand of the Bishop and the opposition of various members of his congre- 23 (2.65) rah page: 266-267[View Page 266-267] gation, he could not refrain firom seeking the socie- ty of Fannie. At length, however, the opposition grew to such a pitch among his brethren, that he was greatly troubled in his mind. One day, alone in his studio, meditating upon the affair, he thus soliloquized: "A priest,-and in love! It cannot be;-yes, but it is-for why lie to my own conscience? I love and am loved. Fannie would marry me; and I fain would marry her-but dare not-and only be- cause I'm a priest. Why should the Church doom her clergy to celibacy? It seems a law against reason and nature; yet I must obey the mandate, or be deemed an apostate, and bear the anathemas of the Church--the dreadful weight of which would sink my helpless soul to endless, quenchless flames. Should this snare, which Satan may have spread for my feet, prove my ruin, it were better I had never been born! Cease I must to think of that fascinating object. Fannie hath charms too powerful to resist; no more will I dare, with her, exchange word or glance. At once I'll turn away from this temptation, nor longer peril my soul's salvation." Saying which, he turned to his library, and taking out a musty volume, written by a monk, centuries ago, in favor of celibacy, sat down to read; hoping, perhaps, to find aid in fortifying his heart against Cupid's darts and Fannie's charms. * * * *k * * * * 'Twas vain; Remington's warm, susceptible heart was too deeply pierced; his thoughts by day and his dreams by night, were of Fannie Brown. (? Jw i-rl MORE LIGHT. 267 Finding that the entire influence of the Church, as well as her lover's religious prejudices, had to be encountered, Fannie resolved on doing her ut- most, and using every art within the compass of her power, to captivate more effectually her rever- end lover. The event proved the omnipotence of love: for Fannie's sake, after all his scruples, the priest de- termined to brook the frowns of the Hierarchy, an- athemas of the Church, and even hell itself. * * C * * * * ( Circumstances sometimes show how much influ- ence feeling has upon religious belief. When Remington saw the bitterness of his brethren, and an exhibition of the persecuting spirit cherished toward him, his indignation was aroused, and he immediately cast off the shackles of Papal super- stition, and publicly renounced Romanism. This event .fell like a firebrand, producing a moral conflagration! Papists raged; priests and laymen poured out their invectives, and most terri- ble anathemas. Christian patience and forbear- ance seemed wholly lost sight of; while wrath, turbulence and fury bore entire sway. What little heed to Christ's sermon on the mount! Remington and Fannie Brown were shortly af- terward engaged to be married. On the evening preceding the day fixed upon for the marriage ceremony, Remington mysteriously disappeared. Fannie at once breathed the sus- picion that he had been assassinated by the Papists; a great excitement soon spread through- out the community; but the missing man could no- where be found. page: 268-269[View Page 268-269] About a fortnight after this exciting occurrence, Fannie, whose heart was crushed under a constant weight of grief for her lover, one night dreamed that he was in the hands of the Jesuits, at St. Louis; and confined in a dungeon connected with the cathedral of that city. Relating her dream to her mother, soon after she awoke, Fannie remarked: "Never has been made upon my mind a more vivid impression; and so peculiar was my dream, I cannot but feel there's some truth in it. In my mind's eye, still I see, in all its dimensions, the im- mense and gloomy building, in the deep basement of which I dreamed he was imprisoned. It seem- ed to me, a bright angel beckoned me forth, say- ing: ' Come, and I will show thee the desire of thy heart.' I immediately arose and followed the celestial stranger, who led me silently into the cathedral,-and then down a long winding way, to a subterraneous prison- where, through iron grates, I saw and conversed with Gabriel Reming- ton. He was pale and emaciated. I enquired how he came to be there. In a feeble voice, he re- plied: ' I was brought before the Inquisition of this city, who sentenced me to seven years imprison- ment here, and to live on bread and water; then to die upon the rack.' " Fannie insisted there must be something in the dream. Her friends heeded not, believing it was but a dream. At length, wrought up to frenzy, being so fully persuaded that her vision was more c than a dream, Fannie stole off from home, without the knowledge or consent of friends, and made ^ . - "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 269 her way to St. Louis. Upon her arrivai in that city, she went immediately to the cathedral she had dreamed of; the superstructure wore precisely the appearance which it had had to her in the vision. Having a perfect recollection of the direc-^ tion in which the angel of her dream had led her, she resolved to follow it: resolutely entering a door, which had been left unlocked, she passed through a long, gloomy hall, fortunately meeting no one in her course. At the extremity of the hall she found two doors, which bore an exact resem- blance to what she had seen in her vision: follow- ing the recollection of her dream, she passed through the door on her left, which opened on a steep, subterraneous stairway. Its dismal appear- ance caused a chill to run through her frame; yet she paused not, but with a firm, determined step went forward to brave the darkness and gloom she had dreamed of. After a tedious and weary de- scent, she entered a narrow passage, which was so intensely dark she had to feel her way; progress- ing some distance, she came to a closed door, which she immediately recollected; and which, in her dream was opened by her angel guide. But now it was fast,-and no angel accompanied her to work a miracle. While considering what to do, she heard the sound of heavy footsteps behind her in the distance; this awakened some apprehen- sions for her personal safety; looking back in the direction she had come, a moving lamp met her gaze; as it drew near, her fears increased, shrink- ing closely to the wall on one side of the passage, she eyed suspiciously the lamp-bearer, whom she page: 270-271[View Page 270-271] 270 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. soon discovered to be a morose, brutal looking man. He bore in one hand a plate, containing a morsel of bread and a cup of water. ( "The scanty repast," whispered the trembling girl, " of poor Remington." Without observing Fannie, the serf passed on to the door, which he opened by the use of a key he carried with him, and which he left in the door, intending to take it out upon his return. The thought struck Fannie of securing the key; which she did as soon as she could in safety; then going back out of the narrow passage, concealed herself till the man went back again. Unable to find his key, upon his return, and concluding a ghost had stolen it, the fellow was seized with great terror, and in all possible haste made his way out. With a lighter heart, Fannie again entered the narrow passage, and soon reached the miserable prison of which she had dreamed. When her sweet and well known voice fell upon Reming- ton's ear, he was astonished and transported be- yond measure. A hasty explanation of the circumstances which had led her to his dungeon being given, they be- gan to contrive a plan for his release. ' Let me trythe key which I took from the other door," said Fannie; "it fits precisely," she added;- "your prison door is open!" With Remington, feeling was now too deep for utterance; clasping the angelic Fannie in his arms, he pressed her with rapture to his bosom, be- dewing her delicate cheeks with his falling tears. i LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. 271 Apprehensive that the mysterious disappearance of the key might bring some of the priests to in- vestigate the cause, Fannie suggested the proprie- ty of hastening away. They had not proceeded far, when they discover- ed several priests coming down the steep stairway, bearing in their hands waxen candles, as if to exorcise evil spirits. "What shall we do?" said Fannie, clinging to the arm of him she had just delivered from prison and from death. "I'll try an expedient," responded Remington; "most priests are superstitious; I'll howl like a fiend,-and I think you'll see them climb that stair- way more nimbly than they now descend.' Putting forth his utmost strength, he cried- "Come on, hell is impatient for you!" .To assist in the panic, Fannie shrieked hideously. Dropping their crosses and burning tapers, the terrified priests vied with each other in making for the top of the stairway; the foremost, in his too great haste, chanced to make an unlucky step, the blunder operated not only to his own disadvantage, but to the sad discomfiture of his more tardy brethren, who hung in the rear. Tilting back- wards, he uptripped all behind him; and the whole fraternity came tumbling down in a heap,-man- ling and, bruising themselves at a great rate. While they were gathering themselves up, Fannie and Remington got on the stairway in advance of them, and proceeded out. Such was the confusion and so great the terror that filled the minds of the reverend ghost-hunters, that Fannie and Reming-t , - , .S page: 272-273[View Page 272-273] "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 2" ton entirely escaped their observation. Without further difficulty or molestation, the intrepid girl and her rescued lover made their way to Prairie City. * * * * * * * Banquo's ghost scarcely surprised the terror- stricken Macheth more than the sudden and most unexpected re-appearance of Remington did the citizens of Prairie City. Confident that either by accident or violence he had come to his death, his return created no little excitement. And when all the facts in the case were made known, the excite- ment grew still more intense. Efforts were made to bring to justice the men implicated in the abduc- tion of Remington, but without success. It was satisfactorily ascertained who they were, but the Jesuit villains managed to make their escape. In the course of a few months Fannie Brown and Gabriel Remington were married; and have ever since been prosperous? and living happily together. Some years after their union, Mrs. Remington humorously made some allusion to her husband's fall from the priesthood, in the presence of several acquaintances; in reply to which the husband, looking upon his eldest son, remarked: "In my es- timation, there's far more honor in being the father of that bright eyed boy, than in being a Romish priest." fo Ctraphr 3IL Lilla Willard--Cruel charity of a Sister of Charity. THOUGH done with the characters introduced in the preceding pages, I'm not yet done with "St. Mary's of the Woods." My story is of that institu- tion no less than of those individuals who have thus far figured in the work. What I'm now about to relate is intended to be a warning to indigent mothers, whose crushing pov- erty sometimes becomes an inducement for them to surrender their children into the hands of the Sis- ters of Charity,-who, though mild and kind, are 'but the instruments of the Roman Hierarchy for putting galling chains on immortal minds. "You have a number of small children, I per- ceive, Mrs. Willard," remarked a Sister of Charity who had entered the house of a poor widow. "I see not how," continued she, " you can possibly main- tain them all." "'Tis truly a difficult task," replied the lady ad- dressed, " nd gives me much anxiety; but it seems there's always some way to get along. I trust to Providence, and am endeavoring to train my chil- dren to industry."' ' But you cannot educate them." ' I devote a portion of my time every day to in- structing them. My own education, to be sure, is (273) page: 274-275[View Page 274-275] 274 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. limited, but my children, at all events, must be taught to read." "But that is insufficient; they should have com- petent instructors." "I'm told we're soon to have a Free School in Prairie City. If that. should be, my poor children will stand as good a chance for a liberal education as other people's." "A Free School! I humbly entreat you, dear woman, not to allow your precious children to enter such a sink of iniquity." "A sink of iniquity! Why should Free Schools be thought sinks of iniquity?" "They are Godless-and hence iniquitous. Edu- cation, unaccompanied by religious instruction, is worse than useless." "Irreligion, surely, is not countenanced in those schools." ' Sanction is given to that which is equal to irre- ligion." "As to religious instruction, that can be given at home, at church, and in the Sabbath-school." "I wish no argument with you, Mrs. Willard; but I want this little curly-haired, black-eyed girl you call Lilla. For she must have the right kind of an education." "Ican't spare my black-eyed Lilla; yet gladly would I have her receive an accomplished educa- tion." "Dear woman, you'll have your hands full taking care of the rest. A widow, and having nothing but your needle to depend upon; with a house full of children, I can see nothing for you to hang a single thread of hope on." "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 275 "A gloomy prospect, I admit; yet must I hope on; I love my children too well to think of despair- ing: for my despair would prove their greatest mis- fortune." "Come, now, let me take Lilla to ' St. Mary's of the Woods,' where she may be well educated, and want for nothing. 'Tis but a few miles distant; so that you'll be able frequently to visit her." "Pray do not urge me to part with my child; I'm poor and distressed, I know, but yet I love my children and am willing, to work day and night for their support." "But your love for your children should prompt you to comply with my request. Thinlkof it till I see you again." When the Sister of Charity had taken her leave, the poor widow began to think seriously upon her destitute condition. "Nothing but my needle to depend on," whis- pered she to herself, " 'tis truly enough to discour- age me. If I knew they'd take good care of Lilla, treat her well and give her a fine education, it no doubt might be the best thing I could do to let her go." Then sighing deeply, she grew silent and thoughtful,-in the meanwhile busily plying her needle as if the salvation of herself and helpless children depended on the labor of the passing hour. In the course of a few days Sister Rebecca called again at Mrs. Willard's and commenced her impor- tunities for Lilla. After long persuasion, and many solemn promises to treat the child well, and page: 276-277[View Page 276-277] 276 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. to use no undue influence to bias her mind in favor of the Catholic religion, Mrs. Willard consented; and dressing Lilla in her best clothes, and carefully adjusting her beautiful ringlets, she kissed the rosy lips of her smiling babe, then put her into the arms of Sister Rebecca, who took her immediately to "St. Mary's of the Woods." A mother's anxious lingering look followed the child, till in the distance it was lost to her sight. Then bursting into tears she bitterly wept. of ' ,V d iptIr .3L The Convent, a School of Crime-An affair of jealousy- Lilla associated with the dissolute. "LLA WILLARD was a child of three years, sweet and beautiful as a blossom; a happy disposition, and possessing remarkably active faculties. We may pass over several years of her history, during which she received a limited education, and held a servant's place, doing the drudgery of the nunnery. Mrs. Willard occasionally visited the Convent to see her daughter; but so hard had she to struggle against poverty that her visits were by no means frequent. Finding that her child was becoming alienated from her, it gave the mother but little satisfaction to see her. And as Lilla was at no time permitted to leave the Convent she be- came entirely weaned from her brothers and sisters. By the time she had reached her teens no trace of affection for her relatives remained in her bosom. x * * + * - # Mrs. Willard, after years of toil and hardship, reared her children that remained with her in re- spectability; gave them a good education and qualified them for usefulness and happiness. They moved in the first circles of society; married well; made good citizens, and enjoyed the esteem of all who knew them. A thousand times the mother (277) page: 278-279[View Page 278-279] 278 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. wished that Lilla had never been taken from the family circle; oft reproached herself for her folly in yielding to the persuasfons of the Sister of Charity, to whom she reluctantly gave up the darling of her bosom. * * * . * * * * * Lilla's great personal beauty was a guaranty against her continuing long in menial employment. For the hearts, even of Romish priests, are not all invulnerable to the shafts of beauty; nor are their earthly passions frigid as they would have the world believe. As she ripened into womanhood Lilla became surpassingly beautiful. The clergy who visited the Convent began to show themselves particularly interested in her spiritual prosperity. In her four- teenth year she was removed to the cloister where she took the irrevocable vows;-and where, alas, she learned a sad lesson of human depravity. Pos- sessing more than ordinary capacity, and strong reflective, as well as perceptive faculties, Lilla was not long coming to the conclusion that the minis- tering priests who heard confessions in the cloister, were base dissemblers and miserable hypocrites; men, whose hearts were fixed more upon earth than heaven. By them sustaining the loss of innocence, and being led to regard all mankind as vile, corrupt, and lascivious, she gave herself up to infamy-and that while yet of tender years. Not many months after becoming a recluse, Lilla was taken from "St. Mary's of the Woods" to a Convent in another city. Of the circumstances which caused this removal 'tis bettei not to speak. "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 279 Lilla Willard passed several years in the Con- vent at St. Louis, being schooled in crime, and having unfolded to her the depths of secret infamy and wickedness. At length an affair of jealousy between two priests, of which she was the cause, determined her to leave the cloister, which she did, intending to lead a more virtuous life. But finding herself in a new and untried sphere, friendless and destitute 4 she soon drifted into a current of impurity, and be- came associated with a lewd, licentious class. Yet being of higher tone than such as are gener- ally given to a. certain species of infamy, Lilla could not help holding herself above, and standing aloof from the multitudes of libertines who travel- ed the same road. Upon the lower strata of the dissolute she looked down with proud disdain; for there is an aristocracy even among the libidinous. Though full of fiendish passions, which such a course of life as she had lead from her childhood, could not fail to develop, Lilla, nevertheless, could put on the look and action of an angel. A being so highly organized can scarcely be other- wise than refined in manners. Lilla's ambition was to captivate the better class of men, and such as were most strongly intrenched and fortified in virtuous principles. Situating herself in a splendid room, magnifi- cently furnished, she sat in her verandah and eyed the passers-by-not only to observe but to be ob- ' served. It was on a sultry summer evening, Lilla, gorge. page: 280-281[View Page 280-281] 280 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. ously attired, and richly perfumed, walked into her verandah, and seating herself upon an ottoman, thus soliloquized: I'll captivate him if there's a spark of human nature in his soul! Chaste as ice he may be, but I'll try all the force of my charms upon him;-coy as a bird when the snare is spread, he constantly avoids me as if beyond the reach of fascination. 'Tis near his hour to pass by.-Ah, already he comes-yes, 'tis his gait; a manly, graceful walk he has;-a noble youth! his very look bespeaks a generous heart. It would. seem that upon him every god had set his seal to give the world assu- rance of a man." Now rising to her feet. she advanced a few paces in order to accost him as he passed. "My friend, Mr. Carlisle!" she exclaimed, at the same time bowing gracefully, and waving her fan with al air of pleasantry, while bright, sunny smiles played upon her features, " how long," she continued, " will you thus coolly pass me by? In spite of you I'm resolved to make your acquain- tance; so you may as well surrender at discretion." Carlisle, too polite by nature to treat with scorn even the most degraded, paused, and lifting up his hat, politely bowed, and then turned away, as if to pass on. Lilla, having resolved this time to be more persevering, advanced toward the blushing youth, saying, in the blandest tone: "Why so coy, my bird? Little you know with what fervor I love." Then taking him gently by the arm, and coquettishy tapping him on the cheek, added: "The evening is warm and sultry, "GHT, MORE LIGTW. 281 go into Fy apartment and rest you, wnile I fan thy feverish temples. I've gathered fresh roses for thee; my bed is made of down and perfumed with sweet incense; come, my love, and go with me." Speechless stood the embarassed youth; his lips grew pale; his cheek was crimsoned; a fire flashed in his lustrous eye-'twas the wild, consuming fire of passion. Happily the young man called to mind the advice of the inspired king: "The lips of a strange woman drop as a honey comb, and her mouth is smoother than oil: but her feet go down to death; her steps take hold on hell. Remove thy way from her, and come not nigh the door of her house." Looking sternly into the eye of his charmer, be- fore whose bewitching glance and deceitful smiles he had almost yielded, Carlisle repeated the above passage; then quickly turning from her went away. i' He remembers the king's words, yet follows not his example," said Lilla to herself; "but for that unfortunate warning of Solomon's," she added, 'I should have led captive the lovely youth. But I despair not yet of success-there's fire in his composition; the liquid, languid eye with its occa- sional flash and sparkle, bespeaks it." Returning to her verandah, she threw herself voluptuously upon the ottoman, and with careless grace employed her gaudy fan. S * * * * * * Carlisle, well knowing that it was human to err, and that few mortals were altogether beyond the reach of temptation, made up his mind to pass no more in sight of the snare. He felt, yet could not 24 page: 282-283[View Page 282-283] 282 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. even to himself, own that he did, a strange infatu- ation, ever since Lilla's black eyes met his gaze. One evening, as the soft twilight drew on, a sin- gular inclination seized him to take his accustomed walk, which for some weeks he had avoided. Not with any desire, he was sure, to steal a glance at Lilla; and very far from wanting to encounter her again, as he had been compelled to before: yet he must go in that direction; why, he could not tell. And off he set, not hastily, but with slow and measured pace, while his fiery eye wandered rest- less from object to object. As he drew near the place he had previously shunned, the young man discovered that his heart began to beat faster; that his pulse quickened; and that he was growing nervous." "What means all this agitation?" inquired he of himself, "I shall have nothing to do with that wo- man; I intend not even to speak with her. This is rather a peculiar sensation,-but the cause of it I know not." Lilla, espying the fair youth whom she had long and anxiously watched for, hurried out to meet him. Putting on all the blandishments she could command, and smiling with all the appearance of love and innocence, she approached, and affection- ately kissed her Adonis, as she called him, while he stood silent and motionless, making no resis- tance. eThrough much persuasion, and by'flattery and caresses, the young man was induced to follow her whose feet went in the way of death, and whose steps took hold on hell. Haphter 32. Richard Carlisle's engagement with Amelia Randolph. BEFORE his fall, Richard Carlisle was a young man of highest respectability, and extraordinary promise. He was engaged, too, to an amiable and beautiful young girl, Miss Amelia Randolph, a young lady of fine education, polished manners and great moral worth. Amelia loved Carlisle almost to adoration; and she was no less loved by him. Not long after the unfortunate step, already al- luded to, Miss Randolph thought she perceived in Richard a change; yet she knew not the cause. His manner seemed cold and formal-even almost repulsive. She, however, affected at first to notice it not; but at length he manifested a neglect and indifference too marked and palpable; a feeling of resentment kindled in her bosom: coldness then met coolness. "His mind has been drawn away from me," said Amelia to herself; " his affections are some- where else. Who could have won his heart with- out my knowledge? He seemed so true, so loving and so gentle, I thought he never could prove false."dprv * * * * * 23) (283) page: 284-285[View Page 284-285] 284 . IGHT, MORE LIGHT. Richard Carlisle did not really cherish any true love forthe abandoned Lilla Willard; but a species of enchantment, or spell, or rather a strange in- fatuation, seemed to have seized him; his head was turned; his brain maddened. Getting into the society of the dissolute, he very soon learned dissipating habits, and fell into the worst of licentiousness. In the course of a few months, feeling that his reputation was gone, and that he had but little more to hope for, he aban- doned himself to a life of infamy and intemper- ance. After a few years, when reduced to poverty, rags and utter wretchedness, a friend approached him; that friend was a reformed inebriate; taking the degraded young man by the hand, he said: "Having myself been redeemed from the black and awful gulf of intemperance that well nigh had swallowed up all that rendered life desirable, I have hope of you."' "'Tis a vain hope," responded Carlisle, "' I can- not reform; a thousand times I've tried.' "Say not so; worse men have been reclaimed." "No,-not worse." "Yes, worse; and so may you; and so must you." "Scarcely have I a remaining motive to reform." "Have you nothing to live for?" "Almost nothing.' "Can you consent to a life all aimless and ob- jectless?" "Once I had aims, lofty and noble-but now have none." "So soon, and while yet so young, have your prospects vanished?" "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 285 "All turned to smoke.; "But never despair." "Forsaken of friends, and without confidence in myself, I esteem all lost." "No, no, all is not lost-yourself are yet to be saved." "Since no one cares for me, why should I care for myself?" "Let not the want of friends discourage an ef- fort to rise from misery and degradation." "Once drive a man to the wall, wound his pride, tread rudely upon the sensibilities of his heart, blot out his hopes, crush his soul, and leave him helpless and abandoned-and what can you ex- pect, other than that he become a knave, ready to set his life upon any chance to mend or get rid of it?" "But you are not a knave, Richard Carlisle." "Trust me not; trust no man who feels himself in the world without friends." "Alas, I know the vile blows and buffets of the world are calculated to corrode the purest and best affections, and drive the noblest minds to despera- tion. But forget not you are a young man, and may yet make friends, and see many happy days. A reformation of life, which certainly at your age is not impossible, would surely and directly draw around you a circle of friends; and beside, doubt- less, enable you to regain those you've lost." "But accustomed as I've become, to seek relief from ennui, in the intoxicating cup, it hardly seems possible for me now to abstain." "Allow me to insist that you sign the temperance page: 286-287[View Page 286-287] 286 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. pledge; it was of signal advantage to me,-and I'm quite sure it will be no less to you. Do not think me actuated by too much zeal; my apology is, I've felt the withering curse; I know its ruinous power; I've seen its deep damnation." Richard was at length induced to sign the pledge. Who can estimate the result of that one simple act? Richard Carlisle drank no more; be- came a different man, and abandoned all improper habits. In the course of a few years he thoroughly re- deemed himself, not only in public estimation but with Amelia Randolph; whoheartily forgave him. Their engagement was renewed, and their destiny became one. dfaptr 33. Lilla Willard's ultimate wretchedness-Her bitter repent- ancq. THE race of the wicked is not long: Lilla Willard, after being the ruin of many others, came to melancholy ruin herself. A dreadful malady fell like a judgment upon her; the bloom faded from her cheek; her eye loAt its lustre, and every personal charm withered. A most melancholy ob- ject she became; for the loss of health, and decay of beauty, soon brought destitution and .utter wretchedness. Truly, "the way of the transgressor is hard:" friendless and hopeless, Lilla was now an offcast, and left unpitied and uncared for, even by those who had flattered and caressed her, in the days of her wicked prosperity. Too proud to beg, notwith- standing the reckless life she had lived, the unhap- py creature stayed in a miserable habitation, in a suburb of the city,-where, by her needle, which she had never been taught to ply with skill, she earned a scanty subsistence. There, cut off from society, despised and scorned by the world,-and even looked down upon by the very dregs of com- munity-she past several years in untold suffering, both of mind and body. At length, as if to fill up the measure of her calamity, and overflow the cup (287) page: 288-289[View Page 288-289] 288 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. of her misery, she was seized with a lingering ill- ness, which affected her eyes, and ultimately, brought on blindness. Soon after being reduced to this extremity, a Sister of Charity, who knew noth- ing of her history, chanced to find her. Lilla had become such a stranger to gentle words and tones of kindness, that when spoken to so softly and sweetly by the Sister of Charity, her heart of stone melted, and for the first time, during many long years, she wept. The suffering woman was com- forted, her immediate wants supplied, and in a few days was taken to the Catholic Hospital. , Not long afterwards a Catholic paper published in the same city, made allusion to the circum- stance, and boasted of it as one among many in- stances of Catholic charity toward suffering and neglected Protestants. This publication led to an investigation of the case; to the public was then given the true history of the unfortunate Lilla Willard. Ascertaining that she had been a Papist, the tribunal, called "the Holy Inquisition," had her brought to trial; whereupon it was found that she was an apostate from the faith, and no longer a be- liever in the Catholic religion. The chief judge of the spiritual court, turning to the blind culprit, said: "Miserable woman, we find you a heretic, and worse than a heretic-having apostatized from the true faith. You are accounted worthy of death; yet in consideration of your blindness, and the many afflictions you've already suffered, we use clemency, and only sentence you to the dungeon "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 289 for a twelvemonth, where you are to subsist during that period on bread and water. For this great mercy we show you, 'tis proper you meekly kneel before the Tribunal, and humbly thank the holy In- quisitors for their exceeding clemency." "No, I thank you not," replied the hapless Lilla. "I will not humble myself at the feet of men so vile, though you sentence me to the stake or the rack." "For your stubbornness," replied the Inquisitor, "we'll double the penalty, and make it twice twelve mqnths." "Make it twice twelve years, if you will; it will be all the same to me; for I'm wedded to misery and married to wretchedness! And Romanism is the cause. Had I not been snatched from my mother's arms in infancy by a Sister of Charity, I might now have been happy; and free from this an- guish of mind I experience in looking back upon a life of transgression and disgrace. The hypocrisy and wickedness of priests led me into a disbelief of Christianity, as well as into crime. But, thank heaven, affliction hath brought me to sober reflec- tion; since my bodily eyes have gone out, the eyes of my mind have been opened: I see and feel that there is a true religion-but 'tis not the religion of Rome." During these remarks sie was several times or- dered to be silent; and at the conclusion of the last sentence, was roughly seizedby one of the infuriat- ed priests, and dragged off to the dungeon. * # * * . "Light and darkness," said the poor blind Lilla 25 , page: 290-291[View Page 290-291] 290 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. to herself, "are the same to me; so my punish- ment is none the greater on account of my prison being a dungeon; but they might be kind enough to allow me to have a little fresh air, since heaven has so plentifully supplied the world therewith. But it gives opportunity to exercise, the grace of patience. We poor, hard-hearted mortals must suffer before we learn to feel, to show pity, or to exercise sympathy. The human heart, like a flower, gives forth its best flavor and sweetest per- fume when crushed. Hard had grown my heart-- cruelly I had led many an unwary youth into the way of ruin: sorrow and misery came; then learned I to feel for others; my heart is softened; I now can love; and hope one day to live in heaven." Then bowing her head, she silently wept. Ere a fortnight had passed, Lilla Willard was no more: her purified spirit was called from earth to heaven. t -( C mnptnr 34, The vision-The Angel of Chaity gives counsel--The law of kindness. WHEN I closed the preceding chapter it was past the hour of midnight; my compositors had hurried me into intense application by a cry for copy. Weary and exhausted I sunk back into my easy chair, and in a few moments insensibly fell asleep: whereupon I had the following vision:- Methought an angelic being appeared before me; a damsel of exceeding beauty; her eyes were sparkling bright; her countenance mild and benig- nant; her hair, of golden hue, hung gracefully about her fair temples; her form was perfect, and a halo encircled her, while the smile of love played ra- diently upon her innocent lips. "Whence comest thou, fair one; and what thy name?" inquired I. '"From climes celestial," replied she, in accents sweet, "have I descended: my name is Charity." "What thy mission to this dark and selfish world?" "I come to inspire thy bosom with the sublime sentiment of love; for thy mind is embittered, con. templating the pictures of human frailty, error, and transgression thou hast drawn." "Are not my pictures true?" (291) page: 292-293[View Page 292-293] "They are faithfully given; but excite in thy breast an indignation unprofitable to thee." "Shall I not'oppose error, falsehood, and wick- edness with zeal?" "Yes, with zeal, and all the fervor of zeal; but not with anger and hatred." "' How shall I avoid hating that which is hateful? or how love what is unlovely?" "I ask thee not to approve wrong, nor to embrace deformity; but look, I entreat thee, with allowance, and with feelings of extenuation upon those who walk in darkness, and who go in the way of trans. gression. The prejudices of education, early bias, and a thousand blinding influences must be con- sidered; for in these we find some apology, at least, for the waywardness of mankind, and the numerous fatal and monstrous errors into which mortals fall." "Teach me, then, I pray you, how to oppose falsehood, and to contend against iniquity." "Forget not that there is a law of kindness; and that it hath potency; no influence more powerful can be brought to bear upon the human heart. -Love is almost omnipotent; then let it take pos- session of thy bosom, and be deeply implanted in thy heart. Armed with this heavenly principle thou shalt wield a magic power-and the might- iest shall bow to thee." "Kind angel, let me assure thee, 'tis not so much the doctrinal errors, the folly and idolatry of Romanists, that excite my indignation, as the cru- elty of their religion, the heavy burdens it imposes, and the misery it inflicts. That Popery is false, v ; , .X- A - 293 troubles me less, than the blighting influence it wields: 'tis not only a system of error, but 'tis heart-crushing! That it wars against Protestant- ism, and that it seeks to overthrow our republican institutions, has less consideration with me, than the fact that it holds in miserable slavery millions of immortal minds. Chains of darkness are strong- er than chains of iron; and they are forged in all Papal institutions. Beside, every convent is a prison, and every priest an Inquisitor." "Thou speakest truly; but forbearance and love, kindly argument and moral suasion, will accom- plish more in the overthrow of that stupendous system of superstition, than invective, bitterness and severity." "Censurest thou me, then, for what I've written?" "No, not for what thou hast written, but for what thou hast felt, and for what thou dids't in- tend to write. Thou hast but uncovered the snares, pointed out the deep pitfalls, and warned the unwary of danger in the dark: this was well. Now dip not thy pen in gall to pour forth the bitter, burning thoughts that kindle in thy feverish brain; but gently speak to the erring, and kindly strive to lead the benighted into the ways of light and truth." "I love thy counsel; and feel thou art inspiring me with a divine sentiment, and filling my bosom with the same spirit that reigns in thine own. I entreat thee, discourse with me yet further, on the great principle of charity, that my inmost soul may be imbued therewith, and that henceforth I may be able to overcome evil with good." page: 294-295[View Page 294-295] "I rejoice to find thee willing to be instructed, and ready to obey the voice of heaven; and since thy heart, is set on benefitting humanity and pro- moting the advancement of light and truth in the earth, I take delight in giving thee aid. You re- member it is written: 'Now abideth faith, hope, charity; these three, but the greatest of these is charity.' Charity is but another name for love; and it is to the moral, what the law of attraction is to the physical universe. Dissolve the power of attraction by which planets are bound together, and circling worlds kept in their orbits, and what melancholy ruin would ensue! Creation would be thrown into wild disorder, and one wide-spread, disastrous and maddening crash would follow. No less calamitous would be the destruction of the di- vine law of love, which pervades the moral world. 'Tis by the power of this heavenly principle, that society, that families, and that the nations of the earth are united. Annihilate it, and all would be driven asunder; hatred, envy, malice and every evil passion and vile affection would reign trium- phant; all friendly relations be broken up, and the bands of society everywhere rent in twain. Then, what a picture of moral desolation, chaos and con- fusion would Ate whole earth present! But the operations of thy law of love are less perfect, its reign less complke in the moral world, than is the law of attraction in the physical universe. The latter is unvarying, omnipotent and always pro- ducing the desired result; while the former, owing to the depravity of men, is inefficient and sadly de- fective in its workings. Hence the imperfect state "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 295 of society; the disunion, strife and collisions every- where to be seen. Not that the law of love itself 1 is weak, but that the hardness and perversity of the heart of man is such that it receives too feebly its benign influence." "Are we then to be satisfied with the world as it is, and look for nothing better than eternal dis- cord, clashing and jarring, dissension and war, among men while the earth stands?" I t "By no means; you must work on; the world is getting better; men are becoming less vicious, less gross and brutal; the earthly in man's nature less dominant; while the moral and intellectual more rapidly unfold; the law of kindness is better under- stood, and more practiced; love will yet triumph, and mankind become harmonious as the spheres above." "To effect which, is it not the mission of Chris- tianity?" Truly, for love is the strength and animating soul of Christianity; but nevertheless, human in- strumentalities are requisite. The light of truth must be made to beam upon the understanding while the sunshine of love is, directed to the heart. To make truth efficacious, go forth in the spirit of charity, and show men their errors in a manner not to offend; be at once wise and gentle, yet firm and unwavering. Put far from thee all bigotry, secta- rianism, narrowness and selfishness., Take broad views of religion, of humanity, of duty, and of the sphere of action; ,cherish ennobling conceptions of God and his works; and thou mayest be happy in thyself, and become instrumental of much good to page: 296-297[View Page 296-297] 296 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. others; leading many from the ruinous ways of vice to flowery paths of virtue. Love and truth are a fulcrum and lever, whereby the moral world is to be raised from the confines of darkness and perdi- tion, to the sunlight and vicinity of heaven. Seize these mighty engines, and let wisdom and discre- tion direct thy efforts,-remembering,"virtue is its own reward, and that to do good, is to receive good." "Saying which, the angel vanished; and I awoke with feelings of calmness, and a sweet serenity of mind seldom experienced." Gentle reader,-if in this production I fail to subserve the interests of truth, I can only say I shall have missed my aim. You may complain, if you will, of the author's want of skill in giving polish to the picture, but do not say, it is over- wrought; for strict fidelity to truth, indeed, requir- ed more shading; but doubtless 'tis better to ex- tenuate many faults, than set down aught in malice. Throughout the work, it will be perceived, there's a mingling of fact and fiction-I do not mean a mixture of truth and falsehood, as some might imagine; for fiction is not necessarily false- hood, no more than a picture of a person or a land- scape is a falsehood. The picture produced by a combination of colors upon the painter's canvas may be correct or incorrect in its representation of the original; and therefore may be considered true or false. So may we regard a work of fic- tion; it is a picture for the mind's eye to lookupon; and may be a perfect likeness of what it was in- tended to represent, or it may not. Then you per- ceive that written fiction, like a painting, mayspeak truth or falsehood. In alluding to the mingling of fact and fiction, I mean simply that some of the in- cidents related really happened, and some are 26 (297) page: 298-299[View Page 298-299] 298 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. imaginary. Peradventure you are ready to say, why not leave off the imaginary, and give us only the real? I reply, the imaginary incidents may as aptly represent what often happens as the real. Did it never occur to you that the divine Savior of the world employed fiction to inculcate truth? Consider the beautiful parable, entitled ",The Prodigal son;" no intelligent mind need be told that it is fiction; yet how truthful! and what an ex- cellent moral therein is found-how very instruc- tive! What book is more figurative than the Bible? And what is a figure, but a fiction? But let me not be understood as recommending, or at all apologizing for any of the worthless, un- truthful, and pernicious literature, in the form of novels, that inundate the land. We should bear in mind, however, that novels are not the only lying books in the world; who has not read lying sermons? A book should be estimated according to its use fulness; if not calculated to do good, it is without merit, and deserves no praise-whether fact or fiction; but a work, fraught with wholesome instruc- tion, and tending to instil lessons of wisdom and virtue, is certainly worthy of commendation, what- ever its style may be. Undeniably, there are fictitious productions, which present such vivid and striking images of truth, as to render them at once enticing and of highly salutary moral influence; whilst there are others that only serve to darken and corrupt the heart, wither its purest affections and poison the very fountains of life. "GHT, MORE LIGHT. 299 at To write a good book, it must be admitted, is one of the most difficult things in the world. Yet 'tis not enough to produce a good book; it must, in the present age, have other qualities, other attrac- tions beside, else it will not be read. Then it be- hoves an author to study to be entertaining as well as instructive. When he has hewn out the solid marble of truth, let him then hang rich, shining drapery upon it; and also bedeck it with flowers,- fresh, sweet flowers, if he would render it attrac- tive. Many writers, it may be observed, without being thought invidious, seem to have fallen into the absurd notion that it is necessary to be intricate in order to be enticing. With very superficial minds, this may do; for I have observed there are those who are apt to suppose muddy water deep-and on- ly because they do not see the bottom. With that class, a writer or speaker will be taken for a deep thinker, who keeps in the fog, obscures and mysti- fies his subject: while he who is clear and perspic- uous in the delineation of his thoughts, will be re- garded as superficial-and only because he sweeps away the mist, so that the commonest minds can see the very bottom of his meaning. But, to change the train of thought, allow me to say, in winding this volume to a close: I take no pleasure in inveighing against the doctrines or ceremonies of any sect, church or party under heaven; but honestly regarding Romanism as foreign to true religion, corrupting to morals, de- grading to humanity, and as being a cruel, heart- withering system of superstition, I can not but fee' page: 300-301[View Page 300-301] 300 LIGHT, MORE LIGHT. justified in portraying, as I've sought to do, its grim, repulsive features. Whatever may be the world's opinion, my humble aim has been, in elaborating these pages, to honor God and do good-which is the highest prerogative of our nature, the noblest employment of our culties-and that in which we approach nearjtp the perfection and felicity of celestial beings.
