-THE AMERICAN.
3
IN THE
Clutch of Rome.
(CrTRliHTKI.t
BY "UONZAUES."
CIIAPTKK XV -Continued.
rRESUVTEKIAXISM VERSUS CATHOLI
CISM. Poor Martha. She had given up her
testimony according to her lights. The
blood of the Scotch Presbyterian an
cestor vm liule weakened in her
vein. She barely tolerated all Protes
tant creeds, but herown. The Catholic
and the Episcopalian, whom the re
garded as Home's twin sisters gone a
little afield, with their pictures of
aints, their decked out altars, ungodly
music and images, the abominated as
the churches of the devil; and she
deemed It her solemn duty to lift her
voice aDd speak the truth, though it
fell like hot lead in the ears of her
hearers. She had tasted the bitterness,
in secret, of her brother's marriage
with a Catholic Jamie had been the
first to defile the pure Scotch Presby
terian blood. She had gathered enough
from his letters to know that he lore
his wife's jHJople and their religion no
love, and as James had taken the
stranger, he had made his wife, out of
the sloughs of idleness, called a nun
nery, Martha had hoped that in tine,
she would loathe the evils she had been
rescued from; and James had assured
her that the children should never be
taught the religion of their mother.
Woeful delusions of a lovesick mat?.
Born in the flesh, and bred in the bone,
The devil always does hard battles far
his own, and Martha in the solitude of
her own room, took up a half-finished
gray stocking, she was knitting for her
self, and as the needles clicked in and
out of the meshes, she wished that
every glance of their sharp steel points
could pierce the heart of a Roman
priest, for her's was a religion that had
in its day, punished all offenders of its
particular tenet with the relentless
cruelty of the Inquisition itself.
CHAPTER XVI.
VICTORIOUS ROME.
Mrs. Maxwell surrounded as she now
was with all the symbols of true re
ligion, was far from being happy. She
had become firmly imbued with the be
lief, that she was living an impure life
in the sight of God, and that an immor
tal soul was waiting for the rest that
she only, who had been the means of
its impending doom, could give, and for
the first time since she had met him in
tbat distant, native land of her's, she
dreaded to meet her husband. Not that
she loved him less, but the awful con
viction that she was living an impure
life in the sight of God, by her union
with him, had forced itself between her
love; and as yet, he knew it not, and
she was overwhelmed with the equally
horrible conviction loving him as she
did that her husband was not the man
to consent to have their union, lawful
in the eyes of the world at large, conse
crated at this ilate day by any church.
Certainly not by a church he had
neither love nor respect for.
These cOKflicting emotions made her
married state, hitherto regarded by her
as the acme of bliss, a lurid desolation,
Father St. John had told her it was her
solemn duty to have the children bap
tized in the true faith.
"Give mefctime-to think ( f this, Fa
ther," she had pleaded, "and I will
pray to the virgin tonight to show me
my duty."
"Pray to her, my daughter, I ask no
surer proof than this, that you will
come to me and bid me baptize your
little ones in the name of the blessed
Trinity."
Mrs. Maxwell, after a severe struggle
with ber loyalty to her husband, and
what she believed tJ bo her religious
duty to her children, at length resolved
to take advantage tf her husband's ab
sence and have her children baptized
in the Catholic faith. This course once
decided on, MissiDillon lost no time in
informingiFather St. John, who directed
that the children bo brought to church
on a certain day, and he would perform
the holy office.
The relations between Martha and
her sister-in-law were strained and
formal, and the spinster was thoroughly
tempted at times to gather up her
small belongings and go ba:k to her
eastern home, but she felt that it would
ba a cowardly thing to leave in her
brother's absence. She watched over
her young -niece as far as it lay in her
power, and never failed, when occasion
offered, to impress upon the child that
God did not listen to the prayers of
little girls who prayed on beads, and
went to churches like those her gover
ness had taken her to. Even going so
far as to try and make the child prom
ise not to go to church with any one but
herself, till her father's return, assur
ing the child that a burning hell awaited
all children who disobeyed their father.
"But papa never told me not to go,"
said the child, "and I am not ashamed
to go where my mother goes."
"Your mother comes from a strange
and pagan tribe, child, and you are not
to follow her footsteps when they lead
you to the unholy worship of idols like
the heathen your Sunday school books
tell you of."
"You are a bad aunt," said the child,
"and if I was not afraid of making my
mama feel bad, I would go and tell her
you said she w as a pagan and was like
the heathen in my Svinelay tchnol
hooka, but you are my papa's sister, and
he would feel bud if you did not go to
Heaven, I ara going to say threw Hail
Marts, Mis Dillon taught mo, so the
holy virgin will forgive you for what
yim said about my mother."
"See here, you saucy minx," aud
Mis Martha closed her big, bony hand
hard over the little girl's shoulder,
"don't you dare to mumSle your wicked
II iil Marys on my account, and If Miss
Dillon Is teaching you to pray to the
virgin instead of to Gk1 Almighty, it's
time she was hurtled out of your fa
ther's house; and now, get out of my
sight; you are a 'tad girl and I want no
more to uo with you," and Martha
dragged the child to the dor and
pushed her with some force out of the
room.
Then she sat down and wroto the fol
lowing letter:
"My Dkab Kkothkh: In sore, dis
tress do I write jou this, but as yo:t
have sown so shall ou reap. You had
not been gone long when that gover
ness aid companion, of whom I warned
you, fell sick & we supposed, but I now
think we were the victims of a plot, for
she sent 'or a black eyed, smooth-voiced
abomination, culled a priest.
After he had attended the gover
ness, he passed two or three hours with
your wife in her boudoir. I did not pay
much attention to that visit, under the
circumstances. Perhaps your wife told
you of it when you were home on a
visit. You know best. Anyway, you
had not been long gone the second time,
when he called again, pretending to
want to see Miss Dillon, but his busi
ness with her was short, and he had s
long sitting with your wife.
"I intercepted him as he wa leaving
the house, and loroia Mm, in your
name, to enter it again till you gave
him permission. Your wife has been
melancholy and ill-looking ever since
that visit, and oh, that I should have
to write it to you, James she has been
and confessed (the Lord knows why and
what) to this same villian of a priest,
I took her soundly to task for this, but
I can do nothing with her.
"Your little Jean has just left the
room. I told her she must have noth
ing to do with her mother's religion
and she got angry and told me (just
think of it, James) that as I was your
sister, and you would feel bad if I didn't
go to Heaven, she would say Hail Marys
(what awful things they may be, the
evil one only knows) so the virgin would
forgive me for what I said about her
mother.
"Come home at one, Jamie, if you
can, ana banish these evils from your
household, or write and direct, Your
sister, in great perturbation of spirit,
"Martha.
"P. S. That priest,! forbid the house,
comes just the same. Martha."
Martha trusted this letter to nu one.
but took it herself to a mail box. One
afternoon, not long afterthis, Dr. Wood
going to see some patients in the sub
urbs, called and took Martha, as he fre
quently did no', to give her the benefit
of the ride. From the fullness of her
heart, she told Dr. Wood of the trouble
hanging over her brother's house.
Yea, trouble there'll be when James
coaies back to his own aam,' said
Martha, with a heavy sigh.
"Tut," said the do:utr, llicking the
horse with the whip, "as you Scotch
say. never tash your s:-ir. our brother
married a Ca.hedic with his eyes and
ears both open, and after all, why not
one religion as well as another? In
other words, if one must love a humbug,
why not the handsomest and the rich
est and "
"Dr. Wood, "interrupted Martha, "no
good can come of our discussing any
form of religion. So if you please, we
will drop it."
"Agreed, ma'am, ' and he whirled
his horse around a corner, which
brought them in front of the church of
the Blessed Sacrament, in time to see
Mrs. Maxwell's carriage, containing be
side herself, two ladies, the governess,
and the three children, dash up to the
church, and to see Father St. John in
white robes standing in the door, evi
dently expecting them. As the doctor's
buggy dashed by, Martha said:
"What can they bo. iu there for to
day?" Then, as' a thought Hashed
through her brain, she excitedly ex
claimed: "Turn your horse, Doctor, at
once. I am sure that misguided woman
is going to give those innocent children
into the arms of the scarlet woman, by
baptism. Turn around, I say. I must
go and save my brother's children."
But Dr. Wood, with a shake of the
reins and a word to his horse, soon left
the church far in the distance, and in
terrupted Martha in her angry protest,
by coolly telling her that he had pre
vented her from making a great fool of
herself.
"For if Mrs. Maxwell is going to have
her children baptized in that church
today, jou could not prevent it, and
you would have come out humiliated
and defeated."
"I might have been defeated, but
humiliated, no, sir."
"Very possible, Madam," answered
the doctor, "but take my advice and let
things run their course, till the senator
returns. There will be trouble enough
then."
That evening Martha beguiled the
oldest boy into her room, and learned
that the children had really been haj!
ticd by Father St. John that afternoon
Having done all she could to makVher
sister-in law see the error of her course
Martha resolved to pursue the even
t nor of her way, till time brought he
a reply to the letter she had wrltt. n to
her t rother.
CHAPTER XVII.
A I)AX:KKOl S fONI-'l-SSOK.
The days eamo and went. Path
St. John fultllle'd with zealous care the
dutiesof his pasuirate. At lI;ecroded
Cathoiic fair, one night, as he sUmkI
talking kia young girl, who, dressed in
a white costume of oriental stylo and
with sanditled feet, was acting as Ue-
becea at the we ll, IdaOlney had pans-d
them by on the arm ef a society man, to
join the dancers. The girl had just
drawn from her well a pitcher of the
UMial church lemonade, and was in th
act of tilling the glas the priest he id in
his hand, when Mrs. Olr.ey and he
eseert passed. Her silken uraperic
brushed the white; roto of the girl, who
paused with the pitcher iu her hand to
admire the licautiful wom en, and thus,
ho caught the malignant lok Mrs
Olney hd flashed at the priest from
her great, black eyes.
The girl looked the astonishment she
did not speak; but Father St. John
rank the lemonade ami handed the
glass back to the girl, saying:
"Don't you get tired e)f standing here?
Come aud rest till this dance Is over."
A lcok of supremo happiness came
over thi! girl's face, as the young priest
taking her smi'l white hand in his, led
her to a seat in a bower of evergreens
and scarlet berries near tho well. They
had scarcely stated themselves, when a
youth came up to them, asking the girl
to be his partner in tho dance then
forming,but she drew nearer the young
priest, re fusing the young man's request
rather petulantly.
Father St. John locked at tho girl by
his side in some surprise.
"Why do you who are so young dls
dain the merry dance?"
The pale face of the girl flushed a
delicate pink, and her eyes as modest
as the pansies, their purplish hue re1
semblej, looked full into the eyes of the
priest.
"I do dancj sometimes, your Rover
ence, but I care very llitle about it, and
it tires me."
Father St. John noticed that the
small hands resting In her lap were so
thin that they were almost transparent,
"I think your strength goes out in
song," he said. "Do you know, 1 feel
an inspiration when your voice replies
to me in the mass. The blessed virgin
surely bestowed upon you the great gift
of song at your birth."
The face of the girl beamed with joy
ful emotion, and she said, impulsivelj:
"Is it possible, Father, that you de
rive inspiration from my voice? Ah,
then, I have something to live for,"and
two bright drops gathered like dew in
her flower-like eyes.
The priest was startled by tho last
words of the girl. Was some great sor
row pres-ing the joys of youth out of
the life of this young creature? II is
duty it was to find out.
"My daughter, these are strange
words for one so young as you to utter.
As your priest, I shall see you soon,and
you must tell me what it is that troubles
your young lire. 1 cave noticed you on
several occasions, and you are always
sad, and you show signs of physical dis
turbance. Your face is too pale, and
your eyes are too large and bright. Al
ways remember the church can help
you in all trouble. Keep nothing from
her."
The young girl was crimson with em
barrassment. Thrown off her guard by
the words of the priest regarding her
singing, the had uttered the words she
would have been glad to recall, but she
was too honest to make a flimsy denial
of evident unhappiness.
"I have a sorrow, Father, that I do
not think the church can help. I don't
think" hesitatingly "that I want to
lose it, Father, because it brings me a
kind of joy too, but I pray to the virgin,
and sometimes I think she will call me
soon to herself."
Before the priest could reply, the
music from the far end of the pavilion,
with a deafening crash, ceased, and
Rebecca, with a hasty "excuse me, Fa
ther," resumed her duty at the well, as
crowd of thirsty darners gathered
around.
Father St. John did notagain go near
enough to the well of Rebecca to speak
to the girl, who had aroused a deep in
terest in him. Once in the course eif
the evening, ho had stood leaning
against one of the huge pillars, which
supported the roof of the pavilion,
watching the young girl as she per
formed her office, and noting the almost
spiritual beauty of her face, and re
solving, if possible, t) remove the
trouble which was sapping the life ef
his young parishioner away. For, at
that distance, he could see the hectic
flush of fatigue wtiich the light labor
she was performing had brought to
cheeks which wore not so round as they
should have been, when Mrs. Olnev.
with supreme effrontery, glided up to
him, and in a swift, sataric voice, said:
"You have chosen a very effective
pose, St. Adonis. I have no doubt
patient Rebe'cca at the well admires it."
"What do vou mean, Madam?" ho
said coolly and without altering his
position.
She came so near him that he felt the
hot breath from between her senrlet
lipon his face.
"I moan this, my handsome prl. t
that yonder, half f scrawny girl
itliafa.-o like a sick saint, is how?
lesly In love w ith you, I have watched
her before tonight, whi n In your saintly
prcsene'e; and 1 have noticed tho look of
e nraptured adoratltui sins fixes on you
at the singing tf the mass; and tonight
the little god you have b i n taught to
d"spii.e, has sprung tr.it of a bath of
weak lemonade, and shot his poisoned
arrow plump Into your heart, as you sat
with sweet Kelvtx'a in that delightful
bower of gren and red. I watched you
from my place in tho dance, aud I knew
what had hapein.'d. Your priestly
career will le vet ruined by a woman
Kismet," and she whirle-d away as sud
denly as she had apttcarvd, leaving the
priest with many emotions seething
through him, the strongest (if which
was horror and disgust of this woman
w ith her face of amorous pallor.hungry
black eyes, and venomous, sciirle-t
month.
The Sunday night following the fair,
l ather St. John listened iuUintly for
the voice which had said, "it need not
die" hvcausu it haj found favor In his
It rose clear and strong, and
with a pathos that found an answering
echo in the tones of the young celebrant
at the altar, ih lie chanted tho roulv.
After tho elevation, before the kneel
ing congregation had setth'd themselves
back in their seats, ho glanced up at
the choir gallery. A lexik of adoration
was on her pure young face, but her
eyes word fixed unswervingly on him
self. In tho ceremony of worshin. tho
priest changed his position, and the
girl recalled to herself by a peal from
A l . t 1
mo organ, resumed ner place among
the singers.
Ida Olney had seen tho priest look up
at the cholr.and ho smiled as Cleopatra
might have smiled, when she watched
the working of some subtle poison in
the slave she had bidden to drink.
The pale face of tho girl and her
words of mournful Import, in the green
bower at the fair, haunted tho young
priest continually, and one afternoon
he sought her residence.
Flora Hume and her middle-aged
half sister, who was employed In the
mint, lived entirely alone. Margaret
had been mother and father In one to
the infant of less than three years,
which tho death of her father's second
wife had loft to her care. The father,
for several years an Invalid, had sur
vived his wife's death only a fc
months
Margaret was left with a small In
come, which she had eked out in vari
ous ways till she had secured a steady
and lucrative position in tne mint. She
had thus been enabled to educate the
little girl in all useful and many orna
mental branches of education. She was
now reaping the advantage of her
musical education, by singing in the
church of the Sacrament, and occasion-
lly at concerts, but her passion wai
art, and her sister was now tivincr her
instrue ion from the best artist the city
afforded.
The two sisters lived in a pretty cot
tage, which Margaret had bought by
ow payments when she first com
menceC work in the mint. It had been
very humolo abode some twelve or
thirteen years ago, when she had first
taken possession of it, in the outskirts
of the city, but with the march of years
people had settled around them, and
they were now in a thickly settled
neighbo-hood.
Margaret had as her means allowed,
improved the house and lot from time
to time, and now, though still an old
tyle cottage, it was dainty and inviting
looking. Since Flora had attained her
sixteenth year, they had been able to
dispense with a servant; and with the
exception of a man to work in the gar
den, as occasion demanded, and the
weekly services of a charwoman, Fiora,
ith deft, swift fingers, performed the
duties of their small household.
Margaret was a Pro'estant, but she
had, true to the request of her step
mother, brought the child up in the
Catholic faith. Soon after Martraret
had bought her little home, the church
of the Sacrament had been built within
few blocks of her cottage, and it was
there flora had been confirmed.
Father St. John during the two years
of his pastorate, had never before visited
the home of his young parishioner.
The afternoon weather was cloudy, and
keen wi ad blew from the north. The
white cottage, with its dormer win
dows and wide veranda, around the pil
lars of which English ivy twined, stand
ing well back from the street, and sur
rounded by a green lawn, dotted here
and therewith shrubs or flowerbeds,
many of which were carefully covered
rom the slight winter frosts, and with
light curl of smoke floating away from
its roof, looked a very inviting refuge
from the cold without.
The young priest as he wal ked up the
graveled paths, admired the outward
signs t)f the neatness and thrift of the
occupants. As Father St. John stepped
uion the wide veranda, his glance fell
on a sweet, young face pressed against
th. window glass, atd framed in the
delicate lace of the curtains. But it
vanished in a second, and before the
priest had fairly reached the door the
girl had opened it to admit him, and as
he entered the house, Father St. John
was conscious of thinking that it would
havo bee n very pleasant, If this tweet
girl had been his sister,
Tim worth of Ida Olney had found no
meaning in tho mind of tho young
priest, except as the ovt i It w of h
malicious anger against himself. This
fair, young girl was as far above tho
greissm ss of life, as IdaOlney and maiy
of her exclusive set understood It, as
tho virgin herself was above the purest
of women.
With a graceful, lady of the hoime
welcome, Flora teiok the priest's hat
and hung It on the hat rack which was
all tho furniture tho small, red carpeted
hall contained. Thou, as she stood In
readiness to take his overcoat, ho said
with a smlli) of amusement:
"Don't you think I should cut rather
a ridiculous llgure.stand lug here watch
ing you struggle with tho weight of
this big coat of mine?"
Tho girl blushed. "Oh, your Rever
ence, I am qulto strong. I do nearly
all our house work."
And she showed him Into tho room
which was the parlor and sitting room
in one, and drew a fancy wicker work
rocking-chair, which her artistic lin
gers hud threaded with pale hi no rib
bon, and cushioned with plush of the
same delicate hue, near to tho glowing
prate, for him to sit in. Then in i
childish attitude -she was barely seven
teen she sat down on a low ottoman on
tho other side tf tho grate, with her
hands clasMul on her knees and with
down cast lids.
Both were silent for some minutes.
To tho young hostess, her duty of wel.
coming and seating her visitor over,
came a terrible feeling of embarrass.
ment, for who remembered ho had said,
"as your paster, I shall come ami ask
you Homo day, vt hat It is that gives you
sorrow, and you must keep nolhlmr
back from the church."
Tho priest rested his head against
tho silken marguerites of thu blue vel
vet head-rest on his chair, and his eye-8
travelled quickly and approvingly
aronnd tho long, pleasant room with
Its dainty, inexpensive furnishings. No
suggestive groupings of figures In
marblo or bron.e, no richly colored
paintings of lightly veiled voluptuous
ness, found a place in this pure abode
of purity.
(To bo Continued.)
IN THE CLUTCH OF ROME." U
Mitillshcd In hook form, pie per cover. Hiici run
hiol Ijv Henillnir 2. rents In imimIi oi thu
AMKIUCAN I'UBI.ISHINU ('OMI'ANY.
MARIA MOK.
The Sun Who Kscitcd From the lintel
IHcii, Montreal, Canada. Fresh 1
vcltipineiits. In the winter of ISiM) and 1M() the
celebrated Chas. Chiniquy, commonly
called Father Chiniquy, und now proba
bly the most famous cx-priest In the
world was In Washington, D. C. Hero
he delivered a courso of nineteen lec
tures on Romanism. Ho was then in
his 82nd year, being now I H'j.l, he would
be 8(3 years old.
It fell to my lot to serve as his assist
ant and I was with him daily for about
three weeks. Being one day alone with
him in his room, I aked whether he
knew anything about the story of Maria
Monk and her famous liook, Awful Dis
closures. Chiniquy was about 2H years
old at tho time of Mbs Monk's escape,
in and I knew that he hud been
much in Montreal where tho Hotel Dieu
is situated. He replied that he did, and
that one occasion, when he had becoim;
too ill to continue his arduous labors as
priest and "Apostle of Temperance,"
as he was often called, his bishop sent
him to that very hotel to take some
needed ret, saying to him: "The sisters
will give you a room, and nurse you
tenderly, and you will soon recover your
usual health." While he was theie a
very old nun often came into his room
to minister to his want.-; and one day
he asked her whether she. knew any
thing of the story of Maria Monk. She
replied that she was well informed on
that subject, and had read her look,
"Awful Disclosures." "Well now, ''says
Chiniquy "wee you here during the
time when she claimed to have been
here?" "Yes," she said, " was here
and I knew her well." "Then," says
he, "I wish you would tell me whether
the awful statements she has made of
deeds done in this nunnery were true.'
Upon this question, the old nun as
greatly agitat.d and begged to be ex
cused from answering; but on being
pressed for an answer, consented, pro-
ided he would preimise never to reveal
anything she said until afte r her death,
He promised, and she then stated that
Miss Monk's statements iu that book
were true; and says she, "I have seen
worse things done here than anything
that she has teld."
My attention was again turned to the
Maria Monk affair, by seeing a little
phamphlet recently published in Lon
don, Eng., by a Catholic house, endeav
oring to prove that Miss Mock's Aw
ful Disclosures were a fraud. I read
the phamphlet through; but itdix-s not
seem to me to disprove any part ef her
story. Besides, this statement of the
Rev. Chiniquy is a direct confirmation
of the truth of Miss Monks story, new
evidence, which I have never before
seen published.
But I have just received, most un
expectedly, some very interesting and
very reliable statements from another
source.
While Friend Traynor, State Presi
dent of the A. P. A., was in this city
recently, he gavei me the name of a Rev.
gentleman now living In New York City,
from whom valuable) Information con
cerning Mlsn Monk might b- obtained.
I wrote to lil m, und received substanti
ally the following: That It was his
mother, who first protectee Miss Monk,
when she arrived In that city after her
escape from Montrenl In tho year IM;i.",
He says: "It was extremely difficult
to select a reluge with any promise of
safety, as spies wt ri alert and numer
ous, and dunger of discovery wan In
creasing." The name of this proleetrlx
was Mrs. Karae W. Reeves, famous for
her Itetauly, breadth of mind, dauntless
courage, and sublimity of character,
combined with such lovable traits and
womanly gratvs as commended her for
thlschurge iu a time of great peril
Her love of justice, hatred of wrong
and unfaltering devotion to humanity
decided tho question, and watchman
llogan seized a favorable opportunity,
and secretly hurried Maria Monk to
Mrs, Reeve's residence where she and
Mrs. llogan wclcomcel her at midnight.
She was Immediately secreted on tho
top floor, previously prepared for her,
which she occupied for months, where J
when restored to health and strength,
she wrette her famous beiok, Awful Dis
closures." "The truths it contained were ter
ribly emphasized by tho subsequent
excitement, and flood of vituperation
with malignant jK-rseeutlon, coupled
with threats of assassination."
"It Is Idle folly to attempt todiscredit
her h)ok In the face of tho venomous
fury aroused, and tho consternation
which forced tho lcad!ng;inlnds of tho
Roman Catholic church into tho con
troversy." "Maria Monk at length tired of her
captivity, and one day Incautiously ap
proached a window, and was recog
nized."
"That night a mob besot god tho
house, demanding her immediate sur
render." "They wore dispersed, and
anothor mob appeared tho next day."
The third day, Fifth street from
Avenue D to A venue C was filled by a
frenzied mob of howling fanatics (Ro
man Catholics), who threatened to raze
the house to the ground, unless Miss
Monk was surrendered at once. Mrs.
Reeve preferred to take chances rather
than surrender. So the neighbors ral
lied and guarded the house until Miss
Monk was safely conducted to other
quarters three days later. My
mother often related this story, but
had I received your inquiry five weeks
sooner, I could havo given some start
ling details," for his mother died just
five weeks ago.
"The words quoted are as tl received
them from the son of this herolc.mother.
If Miss Monk was not an escaped nun,
why did the priests stirrup Romish
mobs to recapture hor? And If thoso
convents are not places of lewdness and
wickedness, why did Pope Innocent
VIII. publish a bull demanding refor
mation in monasteries and other relig
ious places, and declare that "members
of monasteries and other 'religious
houses lead a lascivious and truly dis
solute, life."
Why is it that all eseaed nuns tell
the s imo story of those prisons?
For my part, I should deem it truly
wonderful that these escaped women
should all agree so well, though wholly
unknown 'o each other, and living in
widely different times and far remote
from one another. Every lawyer ac
customed to sift and weigh evidence,
knows well tbat witnesses cannot so
agrew in all the essentials of a story as
these, escaped nuns do, unless they aro
telling the truth.
This book should be in every family
in the world. The boy or girl who has
road it, will not b like'y to be beguiled
into the dens of Romanism.
Yours truly. Chask liOYS,
illl F St N. W.
Washington, D C
Maria Monk's lliok can bo had by
sentlin a pir-tal or express order for
'tiiients tothe Ami:ih am I'um.ismxa
Co.. Omaha, Neb., or, Chicago. III., or,
Kansas City, M . Order from the office
nearest your place of residence.
J Errors of Youth. J
Kt'K t'hkt.RS FROM
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IfiiiscreiicEs, Lcsi Kaiinocd,
BE YOUR OWN PHYSICIAN.
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All latteri
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J 12 Tremont Row, Boston, M.
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