the apparent voluntary retirement from the world. of one so young, so wealthy, and so beautiful, was intense, and accordingly the chapel in which I preached was filled to overflowing with the nobility and fashionables of that section of the country. Many and large were the tears that were shed, when this beautiful young lady cut off the rich and flowing tresses of hair. Reader, have you ever seen the description which Eugene Sue, in his "Wandering Jew," gives of the lustrous, luxurious, and rich head of hair, worn by Charlotte de Cardoville, and shorn from her head by Jesuits under the pretense that she was insane? If you have not, take the "Wandering Jew," turn over its pages till you find it, and you will see a more accurate description of that shorn from the head of a young lady to whom I allude, than I can possibly give.-"Popish Nunneries," by William Hogan, p. 15.

FIRST NIGHT IN CONVENT.

This is not home!

And yet for this I left my girlhood's bower, Shook the fresh dew from April's budding flower, Cut off my golden hair,

Forsook the dear and fair,

And fled, as from a serpent's eyes,

Home and its holiest charities;

Instead of all things beautiful,

Took this decaying skull,

Hour after hour to feed my eye,

As if foul gaze like this could purify;

Broke the sweet ties that God had given,

And sought to win His heaven

By leaving home work all undone,

The home race all unrun.

-H. Bonar, D. D.

HOME AND MOTHER LOST TO ME FOREVER.

Oh, I can never forget the awful solemnity of my feelings on that never to be forgotten New Year's

day, when I put off the old and familiar scenes of life, and embraced the new and unfamiliar austerities of an untried experience. And oh, how often during that day would come the harrowing reflection-home and mother lost, lost to me, forever! Never again to enter that hallowed circle? Never again behold its loved ones? Never again to make the walls ring with my girlish joy? Never again to listen to the sweet voice of my mother, as it breathed its melody in my poor lonely ear?—“Edith O'Gorman," page 26.

DOING PENANCE.

We have already given part of a chapter on Satisfaction or Penance. In the illustration before us this young lady is required to present all of her jewels to the convent, and to recite psalms, litanies, etc,

ESCAPE FROM THE CONVENT.

A very interesting story is told in a book entitled "Priest and Nun," about an intelligent girl, who for a long time had been a pupil in a convent, assisting a nun to escape. The girl, whose name was Agnes Anthon, had learned the ways of Rome, and seeing a poor nun from Missouri weeping a great deal, managed to hear from her own lips her sad story. Her sympathies were immediately aroused, and she determined to assist her to gain the liberty that she so earnestly desired. In order to deceive the Mother Superior, Agnes pretended to have conceived a sudden desire to remain in the convent as a nun. This greatly pleased the Mother Superior. Agnes takes an old Scotch uncle into her confidence, to whom she tells her plans for the release of the Missouri nun; he is not only willing to assist her, but is delighted to know that she is not thinking of becoming a nun. According to

instructions conveyed to the uncle he goes to the convent to see her, and names a day on which he will call at the convent to take her "home." On the day appointed, the uncle, apparently very angry, calls at the convent and orders Agnes to make herself ready to go with him. She is overcome with grief at the thought of leaving the "dear Mother Superior" and the "dear convent." but assures them that she will certainly return to them. She begs, as a last favor, that she may be allowed to spend ten minutes in her own room in prayer. This is granted by the impatient uncle, and she retires to her room, and returns in ten minutes, deeply affected, with her veil down, and handkerchief pressed to her face, while sobs shake her form. The uncle immediately takes her to a waiting carriage, and they drive away. Meanwhile, the nun from Missouri was in her cell and would not come out, but kept telling her beads and repeating her prayers; such was the story carried to the Abbess, who finally sent for her to find out the meaning of her conduct. The nun pulled her hood down well over her face and with her head drooping (thus concealing her features) she went into the presence of the Abbess.

"Look at me, daughter," said the Abbess. The nun slowly raised her head and pushed back her hood with both hands, and the bright, handsome face of Agnes Anthon met the Superior's eye.

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Agnes," said the Abbess, "what does this mean ?"

"It means," said Agnes boldly, "that I have turned Rome's weapons against her. Here you taught me to deceive, and I have deceived you." What have you done?" asked the Abbess.

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"I have set your poor little captive from Missouri free! She left yesterday with my uncle, and to-day he will be back for me, and if he does not find me,