.y IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 1.1 11.25 ■ti|2A 122 1^ 12.0 U I4P 7 Hiotographic Sdences Coipordtion 23 WEST MAIN STRUT WEBSTER, N.Y. 14S80 (716) t72-4503 .^ ■S5 ^\ fv %^ ^ "«*. CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHIVI/iCIVlH Collection de microfiches. Canadian institute for Historical IVIicroreproductions / Institut Canadian da microraproductions historiquas Tschnical and Bibliographic Notaa/Notas tachniquaa at bibliographiquaa Tha toti Tha Inatituta haa attamptad to obtain tha baat originai copy avaSlabia for filming. 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Whanavar poaaibia, thasa hava baan omittad from filming/ II aa paut qua cartainaa pagaa blanchas a|outias lors d'una raatauration apparaiaaant dana la taxta. maia, loraqua cala Atait poaaibia, caa pagaa n'ont paa «t« fllmiaa. Additional commanta:/ Commantairas suppl^mantairas; L'Institut a microfilm* la maillaur axamplaira qu'il lui a iti poaaibia da sa procurer. Las details da cat axamplaira qui sont paut-Atra uniquaa du point da vua bibliographiqua, qui pauvant modifiar una imaga raproduita, ou qui pauvant axigar una modification dana la mAthoda normaia da filmaga aont indiquia ci-daaaoua. □ Colourad pagaa/ Pagaa da coulaur □ Pagaa damagad/ Pagaa andommagiaa □ Pagaa raatorad and/or laminatad/ Pagaa raataurtaa at/ou paiiiculAaa Pagaa diacolourad. stainad or foxad/ Pagaa dAcolorias. tachat^as ou piquAes D Tha poa oft film Ori| bag tha aioi oth( firat aior oril r~n Pagaa datachad/ Pagaa dAtachtea Showthrough/ Transparanca Quality of prin Qualit* inigaia da I'imprassion Includaa aupplamantary matarii Comprand du material auppl^mantaira Only adition avaiiabia/ Saula Mition diaponibia r^ Showthrough/ r~| Quality of print variaa/ pn Includaa aupplamantary matarial/ r~~| Only adition avaiiabia/ Thfl aha TIN whi Mai diff anti ba( rigl raq ma Pagaa wholly or partially obscured by errata slips, tissues, etc., hava been ref limed to enaura tha best possible image/ Lea pagea totalement ou partieilement obscurcies par un fauillet d'errata. una pelure. etc., ont ^ti filmies A nouveau da fa^on A obtanir la meilleure imaga possible. This item is filmed at tha reduction ratio checked below/ Ce document eat film* au taux da rMuction indiqu* ci-deaaoua. 10X 14X 18X 22X 26X XX y 12X 16X aox 24X 28X 32X ilt du difisr in« lage Th« copy filmed hcra has b««n r«produe«d thanks to ths flsnsrosity of: BibllothAque nationals du Quibsc Ths imsgss sppssring hsrs srs ths bsst quality possibis considsring ths condition snd Isglblllty of ths originsi copy snd in kssping with ths filming contract spscifications. Original copiss In printsd pspsr eovsrs ars fllmsd bsglnning with ths front covsr snd snding on ths Isst psgs with a printsd or liiustratad imprss- sion, or ths bsck covsr whsn spproprists. All othsr originsi copiss srs fllmsd bsglnning on ths first psgs with s printsd or lllustrstsd Imprss- sion, and snding on ths last pags with s printsd or iiiustrstsd imprsssion. Ths Isst rscordsd frsms on ssch microfichs shsli contain ths symbol — ^> (mssning "CON- TINUED"), or ths symbol ▼ (mssning "END"), whichsvsr sppliss. L'sxsmplaira film* fut raproduit grica k la g4n4roaltA da: BibilothAqus nstionals du QuAbsc Lss Imsgss suKrsntss ont 4tA rsprodultss svsc is plus grsnd soin, compts tsnu ds Is condition st ds Is nsttsti ds I'sxsmpisirs fiimA. st sn conformity svsc lss conditions du contrst ds fllmsgs. Lss sxsmplslrss origlnsux dont is couvsrturs sn psplsr sst imprimis sont fllmis sn commsnpsnt psr Is prsmisr pist st sn tsrmlnsnt soit psr is dsrnlArs psgs qui comports uns smprsints d'imprssslon ou d'lllustrstion, soit psr is sscond plat, sslon Is ess. Tous lss sutrss sxsmplslrss origlnsux sont fllmte sn commsnpsnt psr is prsmlArs psgs qui comports uns smprsints d'imprssslon ou d'lllustrstion st sn tsrminsnt psr is dsrnlArs psgs qui comports uns tslls smprsints. Un dss symboiss suK/snts sppsrsttrs sur Is dsrnlArs imsgs ds chsqus microfichs, sslon is cas: la symbols -^- signifis "A 8UIVRE", is symbols V signifis "FIN". Mspo, pistss, chsrts. stc, msy bs fllmsd st diffsrsnt rsduction rstlos. Thoss too Isrgs to bs sntirsly includsd in ons sxposurs srs fllmsd bsglnning in ths uppsr isft hsnd cornsr, Isft to right snd top to bottom, ss msny frsmss as rsquirsd. Ths following disgrsms iiiustrsts ths msthod: Lss csrtss, pisnchss, tsbissux, stc, psuvsnt Atrs filmte 6 dss tsux ds reduction diff Arsnts. Lorsqus Is documsnt sst trop grsnd pour Atrs rsprodult sn un ssul ciSchA, 11 sst film* A psrtir ds i'sngis supArisur gsuchs, ds gsuchs A droits, st ds hsut sn iMs, sn prsnsnt is nombrs d'imsgss nAcsssslrs. Lss disgrsmmss suivants iliustrsnt is mithods. rats 9 lelurs. 3 32X c 1 2 3 v .'- ,■ . 1;. .; .^■■M.-,, :...*. - 4 5 6 ; m . V m . V, ** ,■» > H s THE / YOUNG CONVEETS; OB MEMOIBS OF THE THREE SISTERS, -I \ DEBBIE, HELEN AND ANNA BARLOJT. Z /yc" 7 ^ EDITED BY THE REV. I. T. * • » •A^Kc' •••. .• •• •• • Im 1 0rk : PUBLISHED BY P. 0!SHEA, 104 BLEBCKER-STRBET. 1861. »*!«•*'*«•.■ *fs; l7' i i ' i ii iiiW r n^ ■T^ i y^- ~. EDITOR'S PREFACE. •> The great work to which all things in this world are subordinated, is that of man's xeclemption. This work, for which God became man, is continued tlirongh His organ— the Church. The Church is therefore the real centre of the world— the conversion of the world is the great work of the Church. It matters not where the Church is placed— tUs ehe r^ gards always as her work. It matters not how feeble maj be her means, or how great may be her trials, she never interrupts this work ; for she is conscious— 4die k^ows — that she has with her Him who conquered ^the world. Hence she always works with the conviction of conquering. How unequal was an illiterate, coarsely clad peasant to .the task of conquering an empire which gave the law to all nations I Yet Peter, the Gallilean flsherman, as the Apostle of Christ, was more tiian a match for Borne. The Cross nirmottuts the Eagle. The Church never counts numbers, or nguda positicm. She enters with the same seal and the same hofw on the instruction of an untutored laborer or poor servant girt, aa ca the conversion of philosophers, or men of wealth and rank. The obstacles to be overcome are to her a matter of small consequence. Paganism, barbarism, tyranny, license, pride of intellect, heresy, fitlse civilization, raoe, color— she grapples with them all. In her dwells Him ii "H ^•i 3441^ ir idhor's preface. whose power li irresistible, whose wisdom is all-oompre- hensiTe, whose love is all-embrftcing— who weighs all things, and accomplishes all mightily and gently. Such she has ever been-Hi|ioh she will be always to the end. The Church knows no age ; the command to teach all nations was for all people and for all times. It was the thirst for the conversion of souls that first led her steps to the New World ; and now that she has existence "here, shall she not earnestly desire to win the people to her faith ? To work for the conversion of the people of the country is a necessity of her being— it is her life and existence ; and as we live her life, sympathize with her aims, identify our interest with hers, it becomes our work, our life and existence. To be a member of the Church, then, is to labor in whatever position God has placed us, for the conversion of our people. This is only saying in other words, " We are Catholics." Will she meet with success in this work ? A child of the mother of heroes and martyrs will not stop to ask this question. Has she not made conquest of the pagan world, triumphing over all its idolatries and superstitions ? Has she not converted and civilized the northern tribes of Europe, notwithstanding their rude genius and the bar- barism of their customs? And is it a great stretch of fidth to predict for her in this noblest and fairect field — where^she hasiUll sway to exercise her divine mission — a victory alike worthy of the intelligence of the American people, and her power as the Bride of Christ But the bright anticipations of faith, however well founded, are not all we have to rely on. The Church has Sl)ITOR*S FRIFACI. already done a great deal aa Amerioan aoU. Her labor and BQceen in reclaiming the aboriginal children of oar forests, fiimish some of ttie moat pleasing pages of Ameri- oan history. Nor in she without her triamphs among the flree and intelligent people who have sooceeded to the American name. Her nnmbers increase erory day. Statesmen, philosophers, poets, jurists, the high in birth, the lowly bom, the young and the old, men of every rank, positicm, and profession— «lloome to swell her ranio. There is hardly a family of any ^stinction in the country that does not number among its members one or more converts to her faith. Indeed Tertullian's famous descrip tion of the spread of the Ghuroh in the second century, may be not inaptly ai^lied to the growth of the Church among our people in our day : '' We are a people of yeeter> day, yet we have filled every place belonging to your cities, islands, castles, towns, assembliea— your very camps, your tribes, companies, palace, senate, forum I We leave your temples only.* • • • Men cry out that the state is be- set, that the Christians are in their fields, in their forts, ii? thteir islands. They mourn, as for a loss, that every seic, age, condition, and now every rank, is going over to this secf't Perhaps in no part of the country can the Church look for a speedier triumph than in New England. Nowhere are the people more susceptible of religious impressions. It is firom a misdirected religious enthusiasm that those various sects and erratic movements peculiar to the New England States, take their rise. When tiie attenticm of • Apology. f Ad ScapHla, xzxril. vl EDITORS PREFACE. BOoh a people shall htve been gained and applied to the study of the claims of the Catholic religion, New Englimd will recognize its dirine character, and proclaim itiielf Catholic. Then, instead of sending forth propagandllsts and emissaries of error, strife and discord, her Misrionaiies will be most active heralds in publishing truth and petxse through their fair and fruitful land. May this Uttle volume, the narrative of the conversion of three of the daughters of New England, not be altogether without its influence in bringing about such a result The simple story of the conquest of the young heart by religion— of the honest overcoming of instilled prejudices, of fidelity to grace, sacrifice for conscience' sake, and loyalty to Gk)d —will perhaps produce a deeper impression in many minds^ on behalf of the Catholic religion, than a more ambitioua and labored apology. I. T. H. [issbnarg f ohm of *i ^anl tfet glp00ile, New Tors, Feast of the Immaoalate Conception, 1860. /I PREFACE OF THE COMPILER. TO THE YOUNG CATHOLICS OP THE DIOCESE OP BURLINGTON, Vt. : My Dear Young Friends — Soon after the death of Debbie Barlow in April, I received a letter from our venerated Bishop requesting; me to prepare and present to your perusal & little sketch of the edifying lives of the three sisters of whom she was the oldest. I could not hesitate to comply, though I distrusted my own ability to perform what was required in a satisfactory manner. Feeling at once the need of more material than I could have access to here, I went to the Convent in Mon- tcgal, where I found it in greater abundance than I could have expected. The recollec- tions of my sojourn at the delightful board- ing-school retreat of the Congregation do yiU PREFACE. Notre Dame at Villa Maria, (formerly Monk- lands,) on Montreal Mountain— of the polite hospitality with which I was entertained — of my enjoyment in the society of the pious and intelligent sisters, and participation in the re- ligious privileges of that favored abode, will be gratefully cherished while I live. By the aid of the copious subject-matter there ob- tained, ai^a'vere true ; and knowing better the sore trials which must beset the path of the young pilgrim in that direction, than she did the flrmnefls of purpose and strength of character to sustain them with which she was gifted, maintained a quiet though prayerftil reserve upon the subject, under the flill assurance that if the work was indeed from Ood, it would be perfected in His own good time and way. This reserve, wUle it really grieved the sensitive and affectionate heart of the beloved child, drew from her sallies of playAil wit upon some oc- casions, and upon others serious remonstrances, which dis- covered both the brilliancy of her genius, and the earnest- ness and depth of her reasonings and convictions. The character of Debbie Bari'ow was indeed one of rare strength and excellence. Endowed with an intuitive sense of the good and the beautiful, as quick to appreciate as she was eager to seek them in every subject which was presented to her notice, (however much popular prejudice might have sought to distort it,) and equally able to dis- cern their opposites under whatever disguises they might appear. Her very childhood surprised us with the calm -.*..■ Xll INTRODUCTION. m- resulte and thoughtful eBtimates of an intellect bo thorough- ly well-baianced, so firee from apalh j on the one hand and enthudaem on the other, as wcmen rarely posEees even at maturity. In the mode which I have chosen for the introduction of my subject, I am well aware that I have departed from the course usual to biography. It may be thought that I have presented it too abruptly, with too little formality. It was perhaps to be expected that I should enter with my young firiend into the home of her childhood, and represent to my readers the brilliant prospects which opened before her as she stood in all the freshness of youth and beauty, and in the plenitude of her talents and accomplishments, upon the threshold of life — ^the pride of her fond and indulgent parents— surrounded by the advantages of wealth and in- timate connection with many distinguished families of Vermont and New York, and beset with allurements which would have enticed a heart less pure, and asphra- tions less simple, to a lasting union with the vanities of time and sense ; and it is indeed proper that I should here allude to these circumstances, in order to |^ve due credit to the discrimination and firmness with which she weighed them all in the balance against Eternity, and, having so proved their emptiness, launched her frail bark courage- ously upon a stormy flood to encounter buffetings from the wild billows of opposition and contempt, and to strug- gle against their power, until the peaceful haven towards which all her desires and efforts were directed should be securely attained. With the history of these struggles, from the moment that the first gentle influences of Divine INTRODUCTION. Xlll grace settled down into her fervent soul, and the first faint rays of Truth dawned upon her clear intellect, until their glorious and triumphant close, the heart of every Catholic, whether old or young, must be deeply interested. It is the design of elucidating these, for the edification and instruction of my dear young Catholic fHends, that animates my heart, and inspires me with courage lovingly to undertake this labor, even while shrinking from it depressed with the consciousness of my own incompe- tence to do justice to my exalted sense of the beauty and merit of its subject. Indeed I should hardly have dared the attempt, had it not happened that the lady who was her dearest friend and teacher, at the convent, and with whoih she corresponded at irregular intervals from the time she left the boarding-school, liad, contrary to the usual practice of the religious orders, careMly preserved most of her letters and fragments of her writings while at the school, which fell in her way, convinced that tliey were the productions of a remarkable mind and heart- These she very kindly offered to my inspection,' that I might extract from! their contents whatever I found that could aid me in the frilfillment of my undertaking, in the object of which she, in common with the whole devoted community to which she belongs, entertains the deepest interest. She also promised to furnish me with any in. formation in her power, which might serve to supply misnng links in the chain of our little history. By availing myself of her ofi'er, and important assistance also (during a recent visit to Montreal), in selecting, ar- ranj^ng, and copying these copious extracts, I hope to 2 ^ It. i'^ ■■^ f:. xiy INTRODUCTION. enable our lamented young friend— though her fait form reposes in the Halls of Silence, and we shall listen no more on earth to the tones of a voice whose utterances were as music to our ears— to discourse with us yet, elo* quently and impressively, through the sentiments and the events which her own pen recorded, in her artless and ad- mirable manner, thus " DepoiUiog upon the silent shore or memorf , images utA preoioas tboagbts That shall not die, and cannot be destroyed. h ^V» ,iM ter more minutely into its details than would, at the first glance, seem necessary. When they passed through the large gate which opens from Notre-Dame Street into the in- closure of the Institution, " the Convent walls," to use her own expression, " looked so gray, so dark, so dismal !" that the sight of them made her heart sink with dread, and she entered beneath their shadow with such shrink- ing reluctance that, according to her own ac- ,.,«Mi«f« 16 THM TOUNG CONVERTS. ,p^ count of it, nothing conld have sustained hor under the parting with her father, but the con- viction that it was her duty to make this sac- rifice of her feelings to please him, after he had so kindly exerted himself to secure its valuable advantages for her education. When she had been there two days, she wrote the following letter to her mother : " My Dear Mother — ^Here I am seated in a convent, (will you laugh at the idea ?) writ- ing to ^ou. Despite my aversion to the Ro- man Catholic religion and the various prayers we are obliged to attend upon, I am very con- tented. To be sure I feel the same as regards the doctrines of this Church as I always have, and my dislike to worship as they do is the same as when I was at l^pme ; but outward forms will not change the heart ; it is mockery for me to bow to the image of the Virgin Mary, and even if I did that, it would be only because I was compelled to do so, and if the nuns know it they will certainly not oblige me me to do it. I canaot turn my eyes in any direction without beholding some statue or painting. The prayers are mostly in French, THE TOUNO CONVERTS* n and I do hot understand them at all. The h]rmns arc sung to the Mother of God, and in- deed it seems to me that they put their whole trust in her, but I suppose they do not. How- ever, my belief is, that we are commanded to worship one God only. But no more of thip. The nuns are very kind and no one can help loving them. The wishes of their pupils are all granted, as far at least, as would be best for their interests. * * * I will close here, for I cannot write all the particulars concerning the school ; I will in my next. No one sees our letters except one of the nuns. Helen is perfectly contented and sends love, etc." * * A fortnight later, she wrote to her mother, under date of March 1st : '• * * I presume you have heard from father all about our journey from home here, so I will leave that and continue. We entered the convent on Wednesday, were received very kindly by the nuns whom you have no idea of at all ; they are very pleasant and seem to be very happy. There are many that I should think are quite young and accomplished, and, we should think if we had them in the world, 2» 18 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. I great additions to society. They are devoted to their religion, beyond my power to express. Thcjp introduced us to some of the young ladierwho seemed very amiable and who did their best to show us the varioua rooms, and inform us of the rules and requirements of the the school ; at evening the whole school as- sembled in the recreation room, which is large and divided into two parts, one for the smaller children, and the other for the older girls. You may imagine the noise we made, for there were no less than one hundred and forty of us. There was a nun in each room to oversee the plays, and who seemed to enjoy it as well as we did ourselves. We did almost anything we wished ; some were seated in groups, talk- ing on all subjects, others were promenading up and down the rooms, some were standing around the nun's chair (which was raised some height from the floor), talking with her, and others were singing and dancing, jumping the rope, etc. Soon the folding-doors opened and the younger children came marching through, headed by one they had chosen for their leader, and who seemed to be the liead one in jt i iLiji i mi THE YOUNQ CONVERTS. 19 all their plays. They were singing a march, and you may bo sure they looked very pretty ; at the command, of their leader, (who was a noble-looking child,) they marched round the room several times and then returned ; there were at least fifty of them. We spent the evening very pleasantly, and at eight o'clock the bell rung for us to go' to prayers. We went to the chapel, which is very pretty in- deed ; it is adjoining the dining-room, and I should think that it was purposely for evening or private devotions ;* the altar is small, but beautiful ; it is gilded and decorated with statues, crucifix and silver candlesticks, with wax tapers, etc., etc. The walls are also hung with very beautiful paintings of our Lord, -the Virgin Mary and various Saints. After prayers and an evening hymn to the Virgin, we retired for the night. Helen and myself have a room together, with separate beds. * * " At six in the morning we rise and proceed to the chapel to hear Mass. It is under the same roof with the convent, but not the one we go to for evening prayers; it is much * It is the young ladies' chapel.— Cbmj?. . 20 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. larger, and has three altars. The paintings there are some of them very large and beauti- ful, and they have also a very fine organ, which is played by one of the nuns. After Mass we go to breakfast, and then to study until eleven ; then catechism until twelve, dinner and recreation until one, and study until three ; recreation from three to four, then study, and a lecture until six ; then tea and recreation amtil eight. We enjoy our- selves now as we did when we first came ; in- deed, every day I enjoy myself more and more. * * * " I will now tell you what studies I am pur- suing. Monday I have French and Arith- metic ; Tuesday, Rhetoric, Philosophy and Dictionary ; Wednesday, French and Arith- metic. Thursday we do not study, but mend our clothes and embroider. I am going to commence embroidering a piano-stool Thurs- day, and Helen a piece to frame. Friday I recite in History, Geography, Botany and Parsing. Saturday is for writing composi- tions. Every month the literary societies meet ; they are'fthe 'young .ladies that write THE YOUNG C0NVERT8. SI compositions on a given subject, and read them before priests, the nuns, and any persons they may see fit to invite to come in. Sister G has given me an invitation to write an address to St. Joseph's Society asking admis- sion to it. You may know that I rather dis- like to do it ; but I shall, for it must be of much benefit to the young ladies to, be mem- bers of the Society. Every month the good and bad marks are read, and* those that behave themselves well enough are put on the table of honor at the end of the year ; that is, they have their names put into a gilt frame and hung up in the parlor ; but I rather think it would be vain for me to aspire to that honor, though perseverance may do it. * * * Give ray love to father. After he gets home from Washington you must write to me about the inauguration." * * * * Through some fault in the distributing oflSces, their letters were delayed in reaching home, and their mother wrote by a gentleman of Montreal, in great anxiety to know why she did not hear from them. Debbie replied under date of March 11: "I have no doubt- n THE YOUNO CONVKKTI. that my letters left tG^ convent, and that all that have come to the convent for me I have had. I think the trouble is somewhere else, for I have not the slightest idea that my let- ters have met with any impediment in the con- vent. The young ladies tell me that they never have had any trouble with theirs, and more than that, I have too high an opinion of the nuns to think they would stop a letter going home, and much less tell mo that the letteca went, when they did not. I am very contented, and you need not give yourself any uneasiness about us. The nuns are very kind, and are altogether uliferent from what I thought they were ; they seem very happy, and enjoy themselves quite as well as any one in the world could, and better, perhaps. Helen says that she is perfectly contented, and that you need not be in the least uneasy about her. I am getting along very w^U in my studies, and am ver, ".veil pleased wU?i , » music teacher." { On the twenty-fifth of the same month, she wry tea : " I was happy to hear that you had rece^ 'd my Jetter?, which were probably do- S 5 >f^ TBB YOUNU CONVEBTJ. S8 tainod in some office, for you might find in them much more than I could lomember to tell again. I am still happy in my home ; t^ I' .3 13 nothing to prevent our being happy, At .1 is the pleasure of our dear " Tan tea"* to see us ei\joy ourselves ; yes they seek our happiness as much as they do our improve- .Qunt I wish you could see the nuns ; you would be an ardent admirer of them if you only knew what lives they lead. / wUl say plairdyf that we see but few with us that would give up all for the love of God, and live the life of a nun. The world occupies too much of their attention and love to forsake it ; but what does a nun do ? To be sure, she loves her home and friends, but she sacrifices aU for God ; they will meet 'their reward in Heaven. You have no idea of them ! Their devotion to their religion, the gentle spirit they evince in every action, their love of prayer, and their perfect charity, are not to be witnessed in eyery-day life, I assure you. Do not think I am going into ecstacies about the • French for "Aunts," by which appellation the pupils of that Inot'Uitioa address the nuns. — OotnpUer. 24 TPE YOUNG CONVERTS. nuns, and shall follow in their footsteps at some future day. No ; I am not so sober yet as that. I do not think I could do as they do. I only think that they are Christians in every sense of the ivord, and any one who knows them must form the same opinion in a very short time. You will excuse me for taking so much of my letter for my " Tantes ;" I only want you to see them, and I will assure you that, your mind will change. I am getting along in Music very well, and I think I have an excellent teacher. My teacher in drawing would not allow me to proceed in monochro^ matic, until I had taken lessons in penciling ; so I commenced, and she says I get along. re- markably well, and shall do a large piece in monochromatic to take home in July. French I am not very fond of; but they talk it so much here that I cannot fail to learn it ; my teacher tells me that if I apply myself, I shall learn it easily enough. Helen's studies are Musfc, French, History, Philosophy, Grammar and Arithmetic. I think she is perfectly con- tented and will remain so. I have had letters from all my friends since I came here, and you .^•^„. THE YOUNG CONVERTJ. 25 may be sure I find it a great pleasure to have so many correspondents while in a convent. How did the inauguration pass off ? If father has come home, write and tell me the events that occurred ; give my love to father, and tell him I shall write to him soon. Every let- ter is seen by ma Tante N ; but I do not care, as I do not write or receive anything, but what I am willing she should read. * *" During the first /ew months of her convent life, Debbie was, though 'j^erfectly polite in her deportment towards all, distant and re- served also, especially with the nuns — declin- ing to enter into conversation with them, or to form familiar acquaintance with any of her young companions, who, while they admiJ^d the charms of her person and manners, and re- spected the abilities which rendered their gift- ed young rival conspicuous in the competi- tions of the class-rooms, were more captivated with the winning gayety and artless frankness of her sister. Time wore rather heavilyaway with her for the first month ; though not at all home-sick, her spirit did not harmonize with anything around her, and she sougjht rc- ,» f- ' *■ ^f: m 26 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. * ; ^i . lief from its weariness by most diligeat appli- cation to study, and intellectual exercises. She complained that so much attention was bestowed, as it seemed to her very unnecessa- rily, upon religion, (the season being that of Lent,) and that she could not turn her eyes in any direction without seeing some object which suggested thoughts of Eternity. To the weekly instructions in the class-room — given by the Sisters in explanation of the truths of Divine Revelation, and always con- ducted colloquially, that the pupils may offer such remarks or ask such questions as they de- sire — she was, however, a deeply interested and intelligent listener, though she seldom ventured any remarks herself^ upon the sub- jects under discussion. The solemn services of Lent, the moving meditations, the earnest exhortations to repentance and the soul- searching examinations of conscience, which always form a part of the daily chapel exer- cises of that penitential season in a convent, were not lost upon her, although she was not willing to acknowledge her first favorable im- pressions even to herself, or to manifest them '■^ THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 27 by yielding any outward tokens of respect id the rites which had awakened them, beyond the mere external conformity which was ex- acted from all tliQ pupils — Protestants as well as Catholics being required to attend services in the chapel, though allowed to use their own books of devotion or Bibles during the time, if they wished. In this conformity, as in the most attentive and strict compliance with all the regulations of the institution, she was so exemplary as to be regarded, even within the first month after her entrance, as a pattern of excellence in those respects, both by the teach- ers and pupils. During Holy Week, she was more depressed than ever, as most of the scholars were en- gaged in the absorbing duties of the season, out of study hours, to the great abridgment, if not entire cessation of their ordinary recre- ations. On Holy Thursday, March 24, when her young companions went to the chapel to oflfer their adorations to our Divine Redeemer before the Blessed Sacrament, on the day upon which we commemorate His institution of that sublime memorial of His dying love, she wan- \ 28 THE TOVKG CONYERTS. 'dered about quite lonely, and at length seeing her faTorite teacher, towards whom she was beginning to manifest some affection, (though she carefully abstained in the presence of her companions from showing any regard to one teacher more than another,) and in whose tender and faithful heart she quietly confided all her little trials and difficulties, she com- plained to her of the oppressive sense of lone- liness which was weighing upon her spirits. The good Sister advised her to get a book from the library for her amusement ; seeing one lying on her table, she asked if she might take that. The Sister smilingly assented, thinking, as it was the " Rule of Faith,'' that she would hardly find much in its contents which would prove attractive or interesting to her young mind. Debbie, however, took it away with her. It was one of the many re- markable circumstances by which the hand of God guided this singularly favored soul, that, in its peculiar state at that juncture, this book proved to be the best one wliich could have been selected for her. To her careful persual of it, during the silence and quiet of that holy THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 29 season, we may safely ascribe the subsequent clearness and firmness of her conceptions of Catholic principles, both in theory and prac- tice. She was herself grateful for the benefit she derived from it, and ever held works of that description, (dry and interesting as they would seem to most young minds,) in much higher esteem than those of a lighter and merely amusing character. If our young people could be persuaded to cultivate a similar taste, how greatly would it increase their happiness^ and usefulness, and diminish the evils which now prevail to such an alarming extent in young society I The next day after the occurrence i last recorded being Good Friday, the chapel was arrayed ia its mourning drapery, in preparation for the solemn and affecting services of the day. Debbie begged permission to go with the sis- ter to see it before those services commenced, which was accorded. She was deeply moved by the sorrowful aspect it presented. The young ladies took no breakfast, but a small piece of bread and a glass of water. The sister having forgotten to order butter for the M- '^:mj 30 THB TOUMO C0NVEKT8. : Protestant pupils, did so as soon as she no- ticed the omission, but observed that Debbie refused to take any. She told the Sister she did not know what she should do with herself during the long services in the chapel. " Did . our Divine Redeemer not die for vou as well as for others f" asked the sister. " Yes, ma Xante, I suppose He did." " Well, can you not return thanks to Him for His infinite mer- cies exhibited in the great sacrifice on Mount Calvary, and bow down in humble sorrow for your sins, which made that sacrifice necessary, meditating deeply upon those momentous subjects at tins time, solemnly set apart for their commemoration, for thid one day at least ; after all that He has done and suffered for you ?" She was so impressed by the sug- gestions of the good Sister, that she pass^ a great part of the day in the young ladies' chapel, and in tears. That she might not at- tract the attention of her sister and compan- ions, she would go out occasionally among them, and passing through the various groups in different rooms, that they might say, (if she was inquired for,) that 8h§ had just been THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 81 there, return to her chosen place m an obscure corner of the chapel, to reflect upon her sins and the great expiation offered for them, and to mourn over them in deep contrition. Sev- eral of the young ladies saw her there at dif- ferent times during the day, and told the teacher mentioned above, that Debbie Barlow was kneeling in the chapel and weeping sadly ; they were told not to speak of it, or appear to notice it. She always dated her conversion from that day. It was then she was first led by God^s blessing upon a word " spoken in season," to see the " exceeding sinfulpess," as she expressed it, of her whole life thus far, and her need of the Divine grace. Fervently did she pray, as the hours of that mournful but blessed Good Friday wore on, that the same Holy Spirit which had now illuminated her soul with a new light, and inspired it with new desires, would perfect the work. ^ He had thus begun, by " guiding it into all truth," and "abiding with her foreyer," to be her Com- forter and her Protector in this life, and her exceeding great reward in eternity. Early in April she wrote the following let- i0: 88 THE VOUNO CONVERTS. ter to her mother — the date is not given : " My Dear Mother : Your fetter was re- ceived some days since, and I should have answered it ere this had I not been so slow at writing, for there has Iain a letter in my drawer half finished for the last few days. I cannot imagine, mother, why you should so often regret sending us here. I have told you. repeatedly that I was very happy here, and , that I could not be happier elsewhere. You are a&&ured that the advantages for obtaining an excellent education are to be found here, and that the religious feelings of the young ladies are not intruded upon by the Catholics. I will tell you again that nothing has been said to me either by my teachers or my friends unless I asked them some questions in rela- tion to their faith, which they of course an- swered. Helen is in ecstacies to think you are coming so soon, but you know that I am not generally so much excited by good news as she is, therefore I try to make her think sometimes that you will not come, for she * would be so much disappointed if you should not. T am in hopes to see you the first of ;-.-':^>:-..^:. THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 33 May, but even if you do not comer it will not be long before we see you, for school closes the 15th of July. * ♦ * Helen is well, and scndff her love. Give my love to grandmother^ to all of my friends, attd to father and the little girls. Write soon and often to your affectionate daughter, Debbie." Soon after the foregoing letter was written^ she discovered that one of her young^friends, who was very pious and particularly attached to her (and who is now, as we may hiimbly hope, rejoicing with her in a better world, she having departed this life some months pre- viously to Debbie), was making a novena, or nine days' prayer, to obtain, through the pray- ers of St Joseph united with her own, some special spiritual favor at the hands of God,, and was convinced that the object of it was her own conversion. Having importuned the young lady in vain > to reveal it, she made some light remarks bordering upon contempt, in relation to such prayers, which wounded the feelings of her to whom they were ad- dressed. A few days after, when they had entered the class-room in the morning, her 34 THE Y^UNO CONVERTS. ' ■-.-'** thoHghts reverting to the impropriety of those remarks and the grief they had cauised her friend, she tore a fly-leaf from her class-book, and wrote with a pencil upon it, so hastily that it was almost illegible, the following ex- pressions : " My Dear Katie, you know that on Sunday last I guessed what the object of your novena to St. Joseph was, although I almost knew what it was before. And you cannot fail to remember how lightly I spoke of your prayers for the intercession of those holy souls, who were the chosen persons of our Father in Heaven to protect lila only Son, our dear S'&viour. Dear Kate, they must have hurt your heart too much at the time to forget them so soon. Will you be surprised when I tell you that I meant very little what I said, and will you be more surprised when I add that, at heart, I am already a Catholic I Yes, Kate I I trust your novena has reached the Heavenly Throne, and that its object has been attained on earth. There has lain on my heart a Joad — ^yes I in my gayest hours you might have seen, if you cast a look on my face, a troubled expression, one of anxiety, THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 96 nnd what caused it ? The conviction that I ought to be a Catholic &nd would not.^ Last night I thought I could endure it no longer ; my heart vtm willing, and I did seek for ad- vice from one of the nuns. I have not read to convince myself, nor have I prayed until quite lately, but others have done the latter for me, which I will ever remember. I must some time be a Catholic ! I can be nothing else. Even if I read only my Bible I must believe truths of that Church. * ♦ * Yes, Kate, believe me, I am a Catholic, and pray for your affectionate Debbie." The same day she wrote the above, she asked the teacher whom she loved best, as the friend whose gentle and loving admonitions had led her to seek the blessings which had descended like heavenly dews upon her soul, and filled it with unspeakable joy, to give her a modal. The Sister told her she would give her one if she would promise to wear it, which she did. That medal she never put aside ; it was laid with her fair and precious form in the gravcjJ^he often asked the Sister to whom allusion has been, and will be, frequently 8G THK YOU NO CON'VKRTS. - mado in the course of this little work, for ox- planations of the doctrines and rites of the Catholic religion. Her questions were evaded under one pretext and another, as it was a vio- lation of their rule for a teacher to speak of religion to a Protestant pupil. When she was determined not to be put o£f thus, they were answered as briefly as possible, and under pro- test, as it were, on account of the rule, the Sister telling her she would rather she would not ask them, advising her also to meditate for herself upon the great truths of religion, and to pray fervently for light from Heaven to guide her soul. Her frequent expressions were, that she read only her Bible, but she • found confirmation of some Catholic doctrine or practice upon every page of. it, and that many passages which mean nothing to Protest- ants, were full of significance when placed * in the light of the Catholic definition of them. He who was Truth itself has said of His own, " By their fruits ye shall know them ; do men gather grapes of thorns, or Jigs of thistles ?" And where can we find a more encouraging illustration of the potency of prayer, pious i TIIK VOUNO CONVERTS. 37 examples and 'loly i)rocci>t8, than in these first tokens of the future conversion of our interesting young friend to the true faith? When wo consider Jho searching scrutiny she exercised in observing the lives and conversa- tions of those around her, without discovering anything in their blameless tenor which was contrary/ to the very spirit of the Gospel, or would justify the accusations she had been ac- customed to hear brought against them ; when wo think of her emotions upon discovering the object of the novena which had been as- cending like incense before the Throne of GracC; from the altar of a loving and fervent young heart for her eternal welfare ; and of the few words spoken by the pious nun, which, like seed sown on good soil and moistened by the dews of lieavenly grace, were destined to bring forth fruits for eternity, it should surely animate us all, both young and old, to ri newed fervoryin prayer, and diligence in the practice of every duty inculcated by our holy religion, that we may thus let our "Jjight so shine before men, that they, seeing our good M. 88 THB YOUNG CONVERTS. works, may glorify our Father which is in Heaven !" _ ■ ' Before the close of the month of April she had won for her name a place upon the " Table of Honor," with those of thirteen others whose high merit for progi*ess in their studies, and perfect decorum of deportment alone, secured that distinction for them. Very few indeed are so successful as to attain it within their first year as pupils 1 The last of April she was elected by the school as one of the two maids of honor to the May Queen, which offices were held during the remainder of the year. This election marked not only her place upon the " Table of Honor," as the candidates are chosen from its list, but also the high estima- tion in which she was held by her young com- panions, the choice having been almost unani- mous. Speaking of if in a letter to her mo- ther a few days after, she says : " I wrote you yesterday by B , but it never entered my head to tell you that I have the great distinc- tion of being one of the May Queen's maids of honor. Perhaps it was from humility that !' THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 3d I deferred telling you until my teachers told me to, for you are well aware that I have a good share of that. But I must enter into the subject of my letter, for I have but a few miu- utes, as this must go to-night." That subject was ia relation to the white dress necessary for the occasion, as they had nbt yet received their summer costumes. The letter she there alludes to is, I (suppose, the following, written a few days previous to the ^ate of that one : * * * "Your letter, containing dollars, was received some time since, and should have been answered before this ; but time passes so swiftly tliat days and weeks slip by unheeded, and I forget that it is time I should answer my letters ; and, besides, every hour in the day is adapted to some particular study or amusement, and we hardly know how or where it goes. After your letter arrived, I purchased everything we needed, with the ex- ception of the things we have at home. You asked in your letter if the bonnets and man- tillas would do for us ? Yes, they will, and Helen can wear her dress. I would like you to bring our barege dresses and my black lace 40 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. I cape. I think of nothing else at present. I was just called down, and received a letter from you, saying that the illness of father would prevent your coming to see us at pre- sent. I am sorry, but at the greatest it will be about two weeks before we go home. I am sorry to hear that father is so unwell, but hope his sickness will pass off without any serious effects. How is grandmother now? Tell he:' that I hope to see her well enough to come down to our house often, while I am at home. Give my love to her and all my friends, and tell them that they need not ex- pect me home from home-sickness ; for as sum- mer advances, I find the convent pleasanter than in winter, and as I was very happy through that season, I am sure I shall be dur ing the summer months. I am very well, and Helen is getting so, she looks like a very healthy girl.* * ^" When they were preparing for the corona- tion of the May Queen, she went with the companion who had made the novena for her, to get a piece of carpet from the sanctuary of the young ladies' chapel, upon the altar of THE YOUNG CONVEhW. 41 which the Blessed Sacrament was also kept. When she was within the sanctuary and in front of the Tabernacle, never hnving been so near it before, an indescribable feeling of awe came over her just as she stooped to take up the carpet, and raising her heart towards it she breathed within herself, and with humble simplicity and sincerity, this aspiration : " My Divine Lord Jesus, if Thou art, as the Catho- lics believe, really present in that Tabernacle, I adore Thee with all the powers of my soul 1" After saying this in her own mind, the full as Burance of the truth of that sublime mystery which was destined to be from that time as an anchor to her soul, sure and firm, stole like a flood of light over her spirit, with such over- whelming power that she was lost to all sense of everything around her, for the few mo- meets which followed this, her first act of ado- ration before our Lord in the Blessed ^ucha rlst ; when her companions, having spoken to her several times, (in a whisper, of course, for none may speak aloud in that Presence,) touched her upon her shoulder, and, arousing her from the joyful contemplation, hurried her 42 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. away to the scene of their preparations. This little incident was recorded in a small memo- randum-book, which she carried about with her, and in which she noted down every event of eacli day. To her great chagrin she lost it, but it was afterwards found and preserved, by a singular and apparently accidental cir- cumstance. The letter of which the following is a por- tion, was written on the 15th of May. * * " Mr. ;6 n called to see us last week. He said he had seen father a short time before, and told him he would come and see us. He seemed to be somewhat surprised at my think- ing so much of the convent, and had a good deal to say about Catholics, etc. He saw, on entering the parlor, some paintings and images of the Blessed Virgin and saints, and after looking at them for some time, he exclaimed, * What superstition t what iikkfry I' * What is it ?' said I. ' Why tWfJ^ummery worship- ing of saints, images, etc. ; don't you think so?' said he, addressing me. *No,' said I, * you are very much mistaken ; it is neither idolatry nor superstition ; for to begin with THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 4a they do not worship them — it is only honor or reverence they give to them ; but this is not the first time I have heard that Catholics did this, and Catholics did that, so I do not find it strange. All I know is, that they are verif dif event from lohat I heard theytvereJ He said lie thought we were kept pretty well by our looks, especially Helen. Cora and Sarah passed through Montreal about two weeks ago ; they stopped to see us, but did not stay but a few minutes. How is Cora's brother ? She said she hardly thought he would be alive when she got home. * * " Debbie has been described to me bf iier teachers as possessing at that time a rai'^icom- ^ bination of sprightliness and serenity, whic i imparted a peculiar charm to her character, and to her manners a " nameless grace." She diflfered in many respects from most girls of her age, and manifested none of that affection for some particular nun which they are apt to show by choosing favorites among them, One evening the young ladies were each naming her favorite nun, and expatiating upon the good qualities for which she admired that fa- 44 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. vorite, enumerating and reciting these in a sort of chant. Debbie remained a silent lis- tener, when one of them exclaimed : " Well, Miss Barlow, you have said nothing ; who is your chosen favorite ?" I love them all 1" sho replied, in her tranquil manner, but with deep feeling. " Oh, what a cold, indifferent person you are I" they exclaimed ; " we do not believe you really care for any one I" " Perhaps," sho said, " if you could see my heart you would think quite differently." Her perfect habits in every respect as a pupil seemed to result from an innate sense of propriety, which gov- erned all her movements. Every duty ap- peared to be performed without an effort. Her sweet and engaging modesty, her lovely conduct and easy politeness towards all, seemed to flow spontaneously from her well- regulated heart. These excellences eqst her no effort, indeed, at the time, but they were the result of the exercise on her part of con- stant and thorough sdf-diad'pline. She real- ized and proved the truth of that maxim of the glorious St. Thomas ^ Kempis, that " a watch over the senses is the foundation of THE YOUNO CONVERTS. 45 purity, the discipline of peace, and the mirror of devotion." It is really lamentable that so few of our young people have the courage to exercise tliat vigilance, which would contribute so greatly to the augmentaLon and establishment of their prosperity, temporal and spirituaK In the regular routine of school life in a convent^ while there are but few stirring events or va- ried incidents to busy the pen of the narrator or interest the general reader, there is still by no means any lack of interesting and even ex- citing variety to the pupils. Every week is enlivened by some affectionate device on the part of their teachers for their amusement, with which they are often taken by surprise, as it were, to enhance the pleasure and to promote the object . for. which they are ex- pressly designed, by breaking the tranquil round that might otherwise become monoto- nous. Thus, to the pupils, after the first irk- someness of its discipline and requirements is past, tjme glides imperceptibly and pleasantly away, while habits of perfect order in all their studies, occupations and recreations, of 46 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. inestimable value to them in after-life, are as imperceptibly acquired and permanently fixed. In this manner did it pass with our young friend, when she liad become habituated to that routine, and she always recurred to those montljs which were most free from any occur- rences to mark the flight of days and weeks, as quite the happiest of her life. When the time for the annual examination and vacation was approaching, she had become so much at- tachedito her " convent home," that she began to be oppressed at times with the fear that she would not be permitted to return to it at the close of the vacation. She was determined, howbyer, not to think of a lasting separation, which would be so full of grief for her, as among the probabilities of her future. Under the pressure of these emotions, she wrote the following as an interchange with some of the dearest of her young friends ana class-mates^ who also oflfered corresponding written expres- sions of their sentiments and feelings as the time for parting drew near : " Six months I — I can hardly realize that so long a time has passed since I came to the THE VOUNO CONVF "8. 4T .convent; it seema rather a fow happy days with little or nothing to obscure their bright- ness. For what are the troubles of our school days ? Nothing. They pass away with the evening sun, leaving behind no trace of sor- row upon the heart. And here in our peace- ful home, where everything breathes of naught but unity and love, can trouble mar the joys of our young hearts ? No ! — and now that I leave my second home for a few short weeks, I would fain express my admiration of its pre- cepts, and my love and gratitude to my teach- ers. But what pen can portray the feelings of a truly grateful heart? Ah ! it would require one far more able than mine. I could almost throw it aside and exclaim, words cannot ex- press them 1 Each day I have seen more to admire, more to love — each day found some new example of the devotedness of those under whose care we are placed, some new mark of their tender solicitude for our wel- fare. Here a word of advice, there of en- couragement, each tending to smooth the little impediments we chanced to meet, and urging us onward in the path of duty, and at the ■■Hi.: . 48 THE YOrXfl CONVEllTS. same time filling the soul with the deepest gratitude to those wliom we may justly deem our truest friends. And now as we are leav- ing, beloved companions, let the words of ad- monition we have here received be ever before us ; some are bidding a last farewell, but^l have before mo the bright prospect of relum- ing to the spot where so many happy hours have been spent, and the recollections of which memory will ever retain." When her parents came to attend tlie exam- ination her worst fears were well nigh con- firmed, and she saw with the deepest sorrow that she would probably be called to endure a final separation from all to wliich she had become so strongly attached. Her emotions upon leaving the convent were so painful that, three years later, when she was with her be- loved teacher in the convent of St. Eustache, she entered upon the fly-leaf of the book in which she kept her diary there : " I came to the convent, the first time, on theOth of Febru- ary, 1853, and left it the 15th of July, tlie same year. These two days were the most unhappy days of my life, but from different THE YOUNO CONVERTS 49 causes. The first, because I was unwilling to remain in the convent ; the second, because I had to leave it." How fully did her experi- ence here recorded prove both what manner of spirit was hers, in her readiness to disctcrd prejudice and distrust where she saw the in- justice of them, and the truth of that saying of her favorite, St. Thomas : " Blessed is the simple and the just in whom there is no guile : for God is with him in all his works, and guiding hb feet into the right path f and, *' He that changeth his former opinion for a better, breaketh not the word of truth !" When our young friend returned to her home, and was again among the friends of her childhood, they all expressed their entire satis- faction with her remarkable improvement, both in mind and person, during so short a fipace of time. I cannot better describe her personal appearance at that period, than by giving the words of Cardinal Wiseman, in his description of the youthful St. Agnes, whose name was afterwards given to our be- loved Debbie in baptism. "In her counte- nance might be seen united the simplicity of I 50 TUB YOUXa CONVERTS. childhood, with the intelligenco of a raaturor age. There not merely dwelt in her eyes that dove-like innocence which the sacred poet describesL (Cant. 1st, Hth), but often there beamed from them rather an intensity of pure affection as though they were looking beyond all surrounding object'^, and rusted upon Onis, unseen byall else, but to her really present, and exquisitely dear. Her forehead was the very seat of candor, open and bright with un- disguised truthfulness ; a kindly smile played about the lips, and the fresh, youthful features varied their sensitive expression with guileless earnestness, passing rapidly from one feeling to the other, as her warm and tender heart received it." Soon after she reached home, the depressing conviction that she should return uo more as a pupil to her " dear convent home,'*' settled heavily upon her, causing sensations of " in- expressible regret." The alarm of her de- voted parents — perfectly kind and indulgent in all other respects — was so great, upon dis- covering the course which her thoughts and inclinations were taking in religious matters,-' TUB YOUiSU CONVERTS. 51 tliat they even forbad© her keeping up any correspondence with her beloved friends and teachers. Her favorite one among these (who was now removed to the Mission Convent at Yamachiche, where she remained until trans- ferred from there to St. Eustache,) being wholly unconscious of the turn matters had taken, awaited for a long time the arrival of the promised letter from her dear child, when her fears being awakened lest ill health or some other accident occasioned her silence, she wrote to inquire the reason why she had failed to fulfill the promise made at parting. The following is an p^'ti act from Debbie's reply to that letter : " Fairfield, Sept. 18, 1853. * * You think I have forgotten jou ; no ! I am not capable of forgetting those I love, and, so long as I think of friends and kindred, so long will I remember ma Xante, St. ; but when thii heart becomes cold and indifferent, insensible to every earthly afltection, when it ceoses to think of friends, then will you be forgotten, and not till then j but methinks that time is far distant, far, far I They call me cold- 52 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. hearted, ungrateful, but those who say this mistake my character and disposition, allow me to say ; for, far from being either, I never forget a kindness, and I am sorry to add that it is not in me naturally to forget an injury ; I can forgive, but it is hard to f troversies and conversations, etc., etc., until u e»(^ THE YOUKO CONVERTS. ■ f I am tired of the name of Church, and feel perfw^tly reckless. * * * I wiU defend the nuns^ no matter wliere they are, and if the in- ference they deduce from this is that I am going to become a Catholic, they are at liberty to do so. I have a relation whom I am stop- ping with now, and who is very kind and con- siderate for me. She has just given me a large beautiful gold cross. I shall value it very highly. At the hotel where J am now stopping there is a lovely woman boarding, who is a convert from Protestantism to Catho- licity. She lost her only daughter last spring, and she had sp-^nt some time in the Convent of the Sacred Heart in New York. She wishes jne to give her love to you. She thinks nuns are per/ecL She that was Jennie Hall (now Mrs. Lynn,) is failing very fast ; she cannot live but a short time ; she told me she would write to the convent, but she wa^" not able. She is very hs^py, and seems lo welcome death almost.'' Not long after the foregoing was written Debbie and Helen visited fri^ds in Highgate and Burlington, and after their return to Fair- THE YOUNQ CONVERTd. 6t field thej attended school there together. April 23d, 1854, Debbie writes from Fair- field. * * * " I am attending school, and en^ joying myself very well. I often wish to see you, my true friend, and very often speak of you as such — so often, that I am accused of thinking of little else hni my convent home and its inmates. * * « " A little more than a month later we have the following in a letter to the same friend : " Fairfield, Sunday eve- ning, May 28, 1854. * * * It is a lovely- night— calm and serene as a summer evening. A cool refreshing shower has added new beauties to nature, and only a slight breeze, which I can imagine is like the floating of angels' wings around us, disturbs the air. Yet afar off I hear the murmuring of a rivulet and the hum of children's voices in their youth- ful sports. It is truly an hour I love. A/ar f afar ! methinks I hear the low chimes of con- vent bells as they sound the hour at which we were wont to retire ; and imaginations which are now vividly cherished by me, bid my eyes gaze upon a scene of uncommon interest — ^a number of young girls ascending steps which n bd THE YOUNG CONVERTS. lead to a little chape!, unassumiug in its ap- pearance, b«t whose precincts are hallowed beyond description. They enter there, and every knee is bent, every head is bowed, and all pride, envy, hatred and jealousy are (or should be) buried. * * ♦ A pale lamp bums steadily before the Blessed Sacrament of the altar, shedding its rays upon the sacred walls, and reminding each soul which there present^, itself, of the bright light of faith which should reign in our hearts. Prayers from the lips of youth, blessed beyond the reach of a doubt by faith, ascend to the throne of the Most High God. And the sweet Ves- per Hymn to the Blessed Mother of Christ rises upon the evening silence, with oft-repeat- ed petitions for her intercession. And the ' slow, measured steps of those children, as they leave this place of prayer, show with what reverence they regard the sacred spot. Yes I my dear Tante, I often, very often, let my im- agination rove to those scenes. Do you, can you, think I have forgotten them ? They re^ main in my heart, sealed in the casket of mem- ory, and I look back upon those days as some IL THE YOUNG CONVEKTS. 59 of the happiest of my life. Helen has been very sick with ir-flammation of the stojiach and bowels. She never was so ill in her life before, and she is now very miserable. Her strength left her entirely, so much so that she had to be taken the same care of that a child would. I have besn confined to the sick room so long that I have written no letters to any one. You will excuse my long silence, will you not ? * * * I am not ungrateful ; no, I am not I Accuse me of anything else, but not of that ! I love the nuns, and shall ever remem- ber their kindness to me. They may think I have forgotten long ere this. ♦ * * * Some one has been in my room to-day to s' Helen, and you never heard so much fuss as was made of me (afterwards) about a table in my room on which was a cross, my two Catholic prayer- books, my chaplot, a picture of an Angel Guc'dian, an image of the Blessed Virgin, a picture of St. Joseph, and another of the Blessed Virgin and Infant Jesus, aU the pic- tures given me in the convent, and two vases of flowers that I had gathered from the gar- den to ornament the table. My books wore ■^ <0 THE YOUNG CONVERTS examined, ic, etc., comments made upon this And that, and I let them proceed. I told them these things put me in mind of the con- vent, and I loved to look at them. They thought I had better go up and unite with the * Romish Church.^ I told them I did not know but I ehovHd unite with the Catholic Church^ Again, from a letter dated Fairfield, June, 1864, 1 extract a portion : " Oh, ma Tante I it is a happy thought to think that I am cared for, 'grayed fov by you ! and how, in the silent loneliness of my own room, I look back upon the past, and recai! your kind look, your ap- proving glanre, and wish I could once more behold them t Here, alone by my couch, I ask ■God to bless your life, to add new joys to your heart, quicken you by His Divine Presence, and receive you in his eternal home at last, where fimid an angel-band (and pure as they), I some- times imagine I see you now. Would that I •could think / should meet the good and the just there ; should see their robes washed white in the blood of the Lamb, and stand among them I Heaven seems to me such a Home I prepared by Him, that I long somo- THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 61 times to see its glories ; but as I listen to my feelings a voice asks me, ' Are you prepared to die ? ' If I were prepared I would go wil- lingly. * * * Fairfield, June 25th, 1854. * * I think of you often and often, and shall be under obligations while Ufe lasts and perhaps in eternity. * * * I am assailed on all sides by those who think I am willing to become less ignorant than I formerly was. I air ridi- culed; yes, more than thai I But my God Tcnows I will not yield, with His help — His grace {^ I am here and must now conform to many things which I fain would not ; but I will satisfy them. I will peruse their blasphe- mous writings, and if I can find anything pure I will subtract it from the impure. I will give them their due. I will know the faith of all ; indeed, I do know much now, and I find no- thing congenial to my feelings but the One True Faith I To-day I went to the Presbyte- rian Church, and when I had heard the ser- mon about half through, lo 1 Popery must take a thump I He said it was nothing but Pagan- ism with another name I that the Catholics had no light from Heaven ! no lights of Bevelation I I I G9 TBI YOUNG GONVEBTg. that the heads of that Church were among the most licentiow of earth I and, finally, that on the very face of the Church were marked those words, (which St. John applied to Pagan Rome) — I will not repeat them ; read for yourself, ma Tante, the 17 th Chapter, 6th Terse of Revelar tions I I listened; I grew dizzy and blind 1 but took my shawl and walked out of the church ; I was obliged to sit in the porch until I grew composed, and then casae home. Some one asked my mother, why I came out of the church ? and she told them^ ' Debbie toould not hear the Catholic Churdi talked about in that way, and so she came home.V I suppose the whole town will be up in arms about it I I do not know but they will mob me. Hal hal This morning in St. Albans, (where I went to attend church,) at the administration of the Blessed Sacrament, the rail around the chancel at the grand altar was filled with Americans, who have been converted to ihe Catholic faith within the last few years, and they all reside there, with the exception of a family from Philadelphia, and two or three from an adjoin^ ing town." THE YOUNO 00MVBBT3. d8 There is no farther communication from her until Nov., 1854, when she writes from Fair- field. * * * "Your dear kind letter, ma Tante, was received last night, and I would fain ex- press to jou my thanks for jour kindness in writing to me again. My reasons for not answering your former one, were that I was forbidden that pleasure; I will be plain in speaking to you, my friend, (for I consider you as such,) my trials I believe increase, for I am plain in telling them that I shall unite with the Church which I consider as right. I have been debarred the pleasure of going to Mass until the last two months, when I told them I would never step inside a Protestant Church, (excuse me, I mean meeting house,) if they did not allow me to go ; but they would not let me ; and I then sat, Sunday after Sunday, by my window and looked at the Catholic chapel while the Blessed Sacrifice of the Mass was offered up. Finally they told me to go if I wished to, and I went. After that the Catho- lics were ridiculed by my acquaintances more and more, and the next Sunday there was Mass they would not let me go. I then made 64 THE YOUNQ OONVEBTS this agreement : I told them if they would let me go to Mass once a fortnight, that is as often as it is here, I would go to Protestant meetings the remainder of the time, until I joined the Church. This suited pretty well, and with a good deal of ridicule they allow me to go. Last Sunday, the Bishop of Burlington and two priests, beside our priest that preaches here, came to Fairfield and staid until Tuesday noon. I went to Mass on Sunday morning. Mr. McGowan,'our priest, came and spoke to me, and asked if I would like an introduction to the Bishop. I told him I would. He said after Mass he would introduce me to him. Mother was with me, and she said so much against it after Mr. McGowan left, that I would not stay to see the Bishop, but I sent word to Father McGowan that he could de- duce his own inference from my going. I formed some acquaintance with him about a year ago, and he has heard something from a lady in this place about the opposition I met with. I have never conversed with him at all. Monday morning I went to two Masses and heard a sermon. I was alone ; our family did THI YOUNO COKVERTI. U not go, BO I found my way to the restry and saw the Bishop. His name is DeGocsbriand. He told me he saw the Sisters of the Congre- gation a short time ago, and that they spoke of rae to him. He talked with me some, and I like him very much. Tuesday I went to Maw and heard a sermon. My God knows how I enjoyed mysdfl To-day there is no Catholic service, and I have been to a Protestant meet- ing ; ma Tante, it is a real penance^ I assure you I Next Sunday I long for ; then there is Mass again! The whole town are giving me up as one blinded by errorSj they say. Poor people f they know not that within my heart, amid all my trials, there reigns a peace which the world ■ W^ iiri 1[l iilli ;il [ r il L * V J ' 1 *1 '" !' 70 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. required, and an entire separation from all Catholic influences and associations, might divert the mind of Debbie from the contem- plation^, of religious subjects. Soon after they went there, she wrote to the same friend at Yamachiche, to whom most of her letters are- f ddressed : « "Fairfax, March, 1855. * ♦ I thank you very much for the beautiful little picture- you sent, ap,d I assure you I shall treasure it with much care. It is decidedly lovely. The? face of the Infant Jesus is so sweet, and that of our holy Mother. Oh ! why is it that such pictures inspire us with greater love for tho originals ? Do you know, ma Tante ? I know it is so. I must tell you how much my pictures are admired. I look them over very often,, and I am often requested to show them. I explain the design as well as I can to them,, and they frequently exclaim, ' How beautiful I how lovely V I generally tell them truly that this is only the commenceinent, only the firs I step, o'r one of the least of the beauties of Catholicity. I am here in Fairfax attending- school. I did intend to go to Burlington, but THE YOUNG CONVERTS. ri» I my parents preferred to have me here, so hero J am. No Catholic Church ; no Catholics. The school is large, and a very good one, I should judge. Most of the people of this place hate the Catholics bitterly, and have ^ery strange ideas concerning them. Almost every one had heard before I came here, that I was, in sentiment, a Roman Catholic. I £aid nothing, but the first morning that I went into tlie school I had about my neck my cro88 xind medal. After I came away, and reached my boarding-place, a young lady told me that she heard it remarked by several that the eldest Miss Barlow was a Catholic. * Is it so f said she. * I believe it is,' said I, and no more was said. I suspect I am an object of pity among them all. My sentiments are the same that they were when I left the convent. I find no Church as yet whose precepts and faith I hve as I do the Catholic. I am sure that I have chance enough to find the true faith if it is to be found amoug the Protestant churches ; but I find it not there. I still ii've the faith professed in my convent home. It is still dear to me, and it is not because I have '' I I It 72 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. constant intercourse w th Catholics, or have their books to reoi. 1 see but very liftle of \> gare v./6, aad one of them a young lady from Barliiy^toti hn^ bor-jwed. You perceive I have not much to guide me ; no, nothing but the Hrrnd of God cdovje. Oh I I pray that I TBay Dot go astray from the path of right I May my steps be guided in the only trve and pure religion. Every one opposes me as much as ever. My father I care for most of aJl. He worships me, I know. Every one says he ioves me better than any of his other chil- <3ren. * * * * I am harrasaed to death by people talking against the Church and against me ; but I do not care. I must believe what dod has directed me to. It is a hard hill which I am striving to ascend, but I hope that I may not faint until the summit is gained. Sometimes I think a strong arm is throw?? around me, and then new strength is added k my weariness, a^ a hand seems poiii' .;g a 1 ■'. M ■'\ :J THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 13 the Cross and urging me onward. And often- timed I almost imagine that a sweet voice whispers, * My child I will pray for thee !' and my petition is, * Sweet Mother, pray for thy feeble but trusting child/ With our Hea- venly Father^a care, the love of Jesiis, and the prayers of the Blessed Virgin, can I, oh can I wander from the truth? I have told you plainly my feelings, and if they change, you shall know it. There is a young lady going from this place to the convent in Montreal in about three weeks, and there has one gone. Every one is wonderfully concerned about them. * * *" In her next, written during the same month and from the same place, the following pas- sages occur : " Let me tell you, my friend, distinctly — I wfint you to understand me fiiUy — I am a CatholiCj^rm and unyielding. I believe it is the only i^ue Ohurcl and the only one witK which J I.iiii evei unite myself. You ask me what . "intend to do?" I an ^ssailed by every one. In fact^ I do not have one moments peace any where. My parents are 7 74 THE YOUXO CONVERTS A I bitterly opposed to the Catholics. * * * But Heaven help me I will hejirm. * * * I shall be more a Catholic when I leave this school than ever before. * * * I have not told you much about the school, have I ? I will say a few words before I close my letter. It is a Protestant school, in every sense of the word, and we are , obliged to attend prayers and go to their church, etc. Last Sunday, I heard a sermon which was 2trong against the * Jtomanists' as they term us. The sura and amount of it was, that the Catholic Church taught salvation by works, and tiot hy faith. I smiled at their ignorance, and gave it no fur- ther thought." The next letter was written from Fairfax in April, about two weeks before the close of the spring term of the school. She doubted whe- tlicr slic should return for the next term, thougli Helen probably would. Her mother was contemplating a visit to her fi lends in the western country, and she might be needed at home during the absence of her mother. She speaks in the most moving terms of her stron^ desire to visit Mon i'cal after the return of iior THE YCDNO CONVERTS. 76 mother, but did not dare indalgo the hopo that her wish would be graated, and adds : "I am really feeling bad enough these days ; everything looks dark. My friends all agiinst me, and God alone my refuge! Why, ma fante! look at that last sentence again I I did not mean to write it ju9t so. I ought to be satisfied with a kind friend in Heaven for my refuge. You understand mo, do you not? Bat I know t'lat in becoming a Catholic I lose many who have been warm friends of mine. This I do not care for ; I gain far n.ore than I lose. But I, sometimes feCt very sad that my parents are so opposed. It seems hard. * * * I wish they would read, but no, they will not ; but they wish me to, every Protestant work that I can find ; and I read every thing in the shape of argument, that I could gQt hold of against the Catholics, but my h^art is just as much there as ever ; it can be no where dse, ' Catholic I am. Catholic I must be!' These are the words I addressed to a Protestant lady in tuis place, some time since. I ^ . roing to have 9ome books soon. I had a iet ir L om Caro. G— — a few weeks ■^* ,1* '\ ^m^- 76 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. since. She is in Atui^ ," ai the convent of the Sacred Heart. " "* * She seemed to recall the associations connected with our bright days in Montreal, with much pleasure. I was rejoiced to hear from ma iante, in ^»ion- treal, that I had been received into the society^ of th^ Oliildrenof Mary at the Convent. Oh, how /ften I wish to be there, if only for one hour, if not more 1 I have yet to find a place I love so well. Every evening my thoughts are with the dear inmates as they go to their beloved chapel, and btfore Him who is there present, my soul bows down as in days goneby, and lingers to tell its sorrows and its trials to that dear Saviour." About a week later, she wrote to another lady of the congregation who was deeply in- terested in her. The following is a portion of that letter : " Fairfax, AprU 26, 1855. " ^ * Would that I could follow the example of our sweet Mother in all things I and ^ promise you to imitate her virtues as far as . ctji a )le. I hope you will pray for me that I may succeed, in a measure, at least. Jennie says you asked her t THE YOCNO CONVERTS. n who selected my books ? Who selects them ? I can answer very easily — Protestants I The pnrest works of Protestants^ Divines of all sorts, are given me to read, and I have read them carefully and candidly. I do not think it would hurt any of my Catholic friends to read what I have, for they are very harmless ! I think I am more of a Catholic when I finish one of those books, than I was wh«n I com- menced f I sometimes think people do not care what I like or do not like. In this place it is no matter what is said to injure a Ca^ho- He's feelings. They are of no consequence, Bnt, thank Heaven, I am a Catholic ; nor would I change my faith for all of theirs I" About tliat time a distressing occurrence in that vicinity caused the deepest regret to the children of the Church, and gave its enemies an opportunity, which, in accord mce with their accustomed vigilance and malice, they did not by any means fail to improve to the utmost by spreading accounts of the circumstaEce abroad, with multiplied exaggerations and triumphant sneers. After alluding briefly to the circumstance, in a letter to Yamachiche, tl 78 TUE YOUNG CONVERTS. and to the fj^rief and reproach which the scan* dal had brought upon her innocent spirit, she says : " I have only to summon up all my courage to endure and face all such things. I am often asked the question, ' Do you not wish you had never gone to a convent ? then you would never have been a Catholic' Oh, ma Tante t I would not give up my belief in the Catholic religion if I could be assured of a long and perfectly happy life here by so doing ! There is such peojce to be found there I Oh, Heaven forbid that I should ever retrace my steps and wander farther from the fold of the Good Shepherd* Some call me an enthvr siast ; others say I mubt have had very little stahUity of character to go from Protestantism to Catholicity. But why should I care ? If I am confident that our heavenly Father will strengthen me in my course, I am sure I ought to forget these little trials. I am not striving now to please the world, but a higher oiy'ect is mine, I trust." The justice of the charges (almost invaria- bly urged against converts to the Catholic faith,) that she " had very little stability of THE YOUNG CONVERTS. to charaotor/' was soffioiontly tested by her con- duct We have yet to learn the meaning of the qnalification, if her consistent, steady course of action from first to last was not one of its most complete illustrations. Wo have frequently heard it attributed to persons of va- rious grades of intelligence and character, be- cause they remained unchanged in their reli- gious sentiments by the influences of a convent course, for a longer or shorter period, (some of them for several consecutive years,) whoso subsequent lives proved most conclusively that their shield against those influences was simply entire indifference to all religion, and whose conduct in other matters connected with their social and domestic relations, declared as great a deficiency in that sort of stability as we have ever seen exhibited. Contrary to Debbie's expectations, she returned to Fair- fax at the close of the vacation, for the sum- mer term, and the next letter to Yamacliiche, which was preserved, was written from that place. " July, 1855. * * I think my parents aro getting more resigned to my being a Catholic, 1^.' ^^ '.J*, \1 81) THB TOUNO CONVERTd. though I do not know how long it will last. When I was at home, they told me that if I must he a Catholic, they supposed I must ; but they thought I could not be in ily right mind. I think I shall persuade them to let me go to Montreal when the year closes, and then I hope to unite with the Church. Oh, what a blessed season that would be for me. But I hope against fear ; and, therefore, will not an- ticipate too'*much now. I earnestly pray the day may soon arrive when I shall be within that one fold, whose Shepherd is Christ.* *" She laid this letter aside when she had written thus far, to write one to her father, begging of him to permit her to accompany a very agree- able party of ladies and gentlemen, who had politely invited her to join them, and who were going, the latter part of the month, from Fairfax, Sheldon, Highgate and Swanton, to Montreal. The two> young ladies whom she mentioned as having gone Jo the convent from Fairfax, were expected to return home with the party. After entreating to be permitted to go, she adds : " If I go, I shall stay at the Mountain school most of the time. I hn^ve .^- THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 81 had a very polite invitation from the nuns to make them a visit, and as many of the young ladies who are now there, leave this fall, I would rather go noio than later. And now, father, as far as sotne other matters are con- cerned, you know what I would like to doj not because my friends are opposed to it, not that as far as worldly interests are concerned, I shall be any better oflf, neither is it because a proselyting influence has been thrown around me ; this is not so. His because I think it is DUTY. But I will say no more ; I will leave you to choose as you think best. But one word more I will say ; I shall be no worse than I now am. I shall be Debbie y still T Her request received an absolute refusal as to all its features, and she concludes the letter to her friend, which was laid aside until she should hear from her father, thus : " My parents will not consent to my going to Canada, as I wrote to you that I wished to. They had rather have me go any other way ; but I do not wish to go from home, again, until I am able to say, lama Catholic. Yes I I wish the world lo know it. I have received \ f —- .^ — . , ,..„ ^_^ 82 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. I some books from Jennie — one, the '* Imitation of Christ," another, the "Trials of a Mind," by Dr. Ives, formerly Bishop of the Protestant Episcopal Church, of North Carolina. I can- not find much more to write now, unless I make mysdf the subject. I am not sure it will prove a very interesting one, but will say a few words. You know I am the same in my determination to be a Catholic, and I feel that my Fcdhm in Heaven will support me in all my difficulties. Yes, His arm is mighty, and why need I fear? I am sure the Mother of our Divine Redeemer will ever intercede for me, if I look to her with confidence, I know I am each day getting more courageous., and strength from on High is given me. I hope the day will ere long arrive, when I can say that I am a Catholic ; when the vJorJd can assail me if it chooses, and I can fly to that Church, to Her sacraments, for consolation in my trials and afflictions. Sometimes I think I cannot wait ; but I am smx the day is not far distant when I shall be received into the bosom of t'lat Church, whose teachings are purity itself J^ . "^t THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 83 During the same week, in which the conclu- ding part of the foregoing letter was written, she wrote the one which contains what fol- lows, to a member of the Congregation, in Montreal. It was in reply to the one con- veying the invitation allude^ to in her letter, to her father : " My Deab Tante : You know not how often I have thought of my convent home, within the last few weeks, and my heart has yearned to be with you there, but the sad thought that I could notj has prevented my writing. Do not think that Debbie has forgotten her kind and trm friends. No, she has not. The intelli- gence I have to convey, in this letter, is what I disliked to write. I begin to ihink, ma Tante, that I am going to be denied the plea- sure of ever seeing the convent again. I can obtain no consent from ray parents to i*eturn there, and what cnn I do ? I thought I should make my first communion where I first learned to love the Catholic religion, but it seems to be ordered otherwise. I think I have waited long enough, for the consent of my friends to my union with the Holy Catholic Church." * * i 84 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. ^ Cc urage 1 oh, trembling soul I fear not i *' Abide in truth and in charity, and thus shalt thou be pleasing to God, to angels, and to good men." Oh, that thine eyes could be opened this day, as were those of the prophet's servant of old, to see even now in this thy hour of greatest danger ; while thou art en- compassed and beleaguered by the hostile powers of the world, the flesh, and the devil, joined ar d arrayed in all their strength against thee ; that " they who are /or thee," are more, far more, than " they who are against thee !" that the Holy Virgin Mother, in whose aid thou hast so confidently trusted, has obtained of the Majesty of Heaven, that " horses and chariots of fire" should be placed between thee and the enemies of thy salvation ; that the wings of the most potent of Heaven's high Hosts should be spread over and around thee, to hide tbee beneath their shadow, to enfold thee in th^ir protecting embrace. Courage, child of Heaven ! for prayers are floating up- ward like clotids to the Throne of God, from innumcrflble eouIs for thee! from many pre- cious hearts of His chosen servants, that are THE YOUNG CONVERTS 85 the consecrated altars of His love ; from many others which are, with their overflowing piety, the sole earthly endowments of their possessors, the poor, the despised, and the hid- den of this world, rich in the wealth of Hea- ven. How many hoary-headed saints among these, are bending their trembling knees before the Throne of Grace, and lifting up their hands to Heaven's high courts for thee, through each hour of the day, yea, and even "preventing the night watches" also, with their untiring supplications I What hosts of thy invisible spiritual enemies, daughter of Faith 1 are even now fettered and crippled — raging in impotent fury against the strong links of the lioly Rosary, which have subdued and bound them. How many of them are retir- ing even into deeper, darker depths of despair, than was their portion before, " struck with a sudden blindness " while in pursuit of thee ; and the flaming swords they had raised against thee, turned powerless away, by the interposing and embracing folds of the iioly Scapular, which its faithful disciples have drawn as a curtain around thee! Courage ' ■ I i.^' 86 THE YOUXO CONVERTS. then, and let thy motto still be " Excelsior !'' until thou hast attained the " summit " of that " hard hill " which thou art striving with such steadfast trust and perseverance to ascend I After the close of the summer term of the school on the 26th of July, she went to visit friends in Burlington antf^erri^urgh. She wrote to her friends at Yamachiche : "Ferbisburgh, Aug. 27th, 1855, Tuesday Morning. * * You perceive I have left Fairfax, and am at this place, making my friends a short visit. I have been in Burling- ton for the past two weeks, and am to return there again, Thursday morning. I am not going to remain in Fairfax any longer, but shall be at home for some weeks, and I do not know where I shall go next. How I wish Montreal was my destination ! You know I thought of going to Montreal this summer ; it WM a trial, I assure you, to give it up, and I do not know now, when I shall go. I think I make some progress in getting the good will of ray friends on the side of Catholic faith and principles ; and though they are still much op* posed, yet I can see there is a change, and I do '*?.a.;s«w3sKta!s** -xtv a-^jgw-jiTr^j -jsua w ^^ssa&KR? THE YOUNO CONVERTS. 8t trust the light of that day is slowly but surely dawning, when they will willingly say, ' You are an the side of TruthJ * * I do not feel as if the trials I have passed through are all for naught — ^no I oh, no I There are others within the circle of my dear friends who toiU yet follow in the way of Truth I Even look at my sisters. Their sympathies are all awakened for me, and the course my relatives have taken has made them feel as though 'Debbie' was right, or she would have given up before this I Two of my sisters, though quite young, one being fourteen and the other eleven, are really giving some uneasiness, because they are not willing to go to Protestant meeting, when there xS Mass. Many times I have started for Mass, in the morning, and left them both weep- ing, because they were not allowed to go with me. I feel, sometimes, a responsibility resting upon me, which I need much Divine strength to assist me in being accountable for, in a right manner. I trust there is nothing that will prevent me from doing my duty, as far as I am able. Every day, almost, I find some new friends ; some who can feel what my true >»^-''.: ■] SB THE YOUNO CONVERTS. II situation ia. Last week, or rather two weeks ago, when on my way to Burlington, I got as • far as St. Alban's, and supposed I must remain all day at the hotel. Father was with me, and what was my astonishment, after having been there an hour, to have him come into the par- lor, and introduce a gentleman to me, as Mr. Hoyt, in whom I recognized a person of whom I had heard, who was formerly a Protestant clergyman, but who had the happiness of be- coming a Catholic, some years ago. He invited me to spend the day at his house, and I did so. I found his wife one of the most lovely ladies I ever met, and they have a beau- tiful family of children. They are trite Catho- lics, and in them I feel as if I had found true friends, and those near home. They have become Catholics, after having been for years in the Protestant communion, and they know what a person has to pass through in changing their rdigious creed" Her next letter was addressed to the same friend, dated at Fairfield, Nov. 20, 1855. After great surprise that "ma Tante" had not received any letters since August, as THUS YOUNG CONVERTS. 89 she had written re i ilarly to her, she adds : " When your letter came to Fairfield, I was in St. Alban's. I went there to do some shop- ping, and remained two days. While there I made arrangements to be receivbvA into the Church, and one week from nexl Saturday will, I ho^ 3, witness ray baptism, and the next day I f ope to make my first Cumraunion. I have mentioned to my parents my intention, and tliey neither consented nor forbade. But, thanks be to God, it is not necessary that I should wait longer, and when I '^•^ixt write to you, I hope to tell you the glad news. We have two excellent priests with us now ; there- fore I can find some one to advi . and direct me. I wrote to ma Tante — Li; Montreal, last week, and I told her I should probably never write to the convent again, until I could tell them that I was a Catholic in every sense of the word. I was weary of writing that the day was yet to come. I longed tu s&y it had been my happiness to be received as one of the childrenof God's Church on earth. ** Prr-y for mo that I may worthily receive the sacra ments of oui' holy religion — that I may have a m if 90 THE YOUNQ CONVERTS. firm faith and a deep love of God implanted in my heart 1 1 will write again as soon as I can tell you the good news." The following needs no comment. Each soul that is so favored as to be numbered among " the few " who have been permitted to pass through the " strait gate " which opens upon the " nar- row way that leadeth unto life," will respond from its profoundest abysses to every expres- sion it contains : "Fairfield, Dec. Uh, 1855. — How can I commence this letter? How should I com- mence it / How, but in asking you to join with mc in praise and thanksgiving to Al- mighty God. Yes, my Jirat requ^t of you :aiust be, that you will say with me, * Thanhs be to God I' My desire has at length been gratified, and I have been received into the Church of Christ. What can I write to you ? My heart is so ftdl of happinese that I cannot write. What an empty word Happiness has ever been to me. Now that I realize what it is to be trtily happy, I can look back upon the past and see that it has been almost a Uank. The hour of my haptism ! Can I forget it ? THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 91 No ; it is now before me. The memory of it rushes full and fresh over my soul, evon as I sit here and write. It is now p" but the in- ward feeling of my heart at the i t when those regenerating waters de^c upon my head, cannot pass away I I muh ^ keep in grateful remembrance, those sacred mo- ments. I pray that they may ever be before me to cause me to remember my great obliga- tions to my God I He has been so merciful to me, in bringing me to the Fold wherein alone solvation can be found ; what must be my in- gratitude if I abuse those mercies— trample upon those graces! Pray earnestly for me, my kind friend, as I am sure you ever have, that I may resist the temptations of this world. Our Heavenly Father has brought one more wandering: lamb within the sacred inclosure of His Church, and unworthy as that one is, He has deigned to notice her. Yes ; He heard my request, He has granted ray petitions, and rescuing me from the im- pending danger, has ' set my feet upon a rock. He has opened the door of His Church, and asked my soul to enter therein. He has ^f^!^-' >^ V"^ 1^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) t 1.0 I.I 11.25 te&IM 12.5 ■i^ liii 12.2 S 1^ |2.0 114 116 Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. U5S0 (716)872-4503 '^ w 92 IBB YOUNG CONVERTS. brought me within the reach of His sacra* ments— has conferred upon me the title of Child cf God / Oh blessed thought I How can I repay ? In no way I I can only offer my penitential prayers and tears. kaAwhai shall I say of the interoeadon of the Blessed i^other of our Redeemer? Oh, my sweet Mother 1 my greatest advocate and refuge! my .guiding star! vjoM that I could tliank thee more ! Take my offering, which, it is true, is but little, and continue to guide and guard thy child. Would that aU might learn to love thee — 'thou that art higher than any other created intelligence in the Heavenly Courts ! WoiHd that aJU might acknowledge thee to be the Immaculate Mother of God. Pray for me, and be my Mother still 1 Teach me the virtues which shone so conspicuously in thy life, and at last may I see thee in all thy glory above, where we will join in praising Him who saved thee from sin, and has rescued my soul from the consequences of sin, eter- nally and without ceasing ! * * * I have not yet made my first Communion. I preferred to wait until the Feast of the Immaculate THE TOUNO CONVERTS. 9a 'ception of our Holy Mother, on the 8th of this -month. I was baptized on Friday last, (the thirtieth of November,) at St. Albans ; I took the name of Mary Agnes in baptism. I have about the same trials at homo as ever } perhaps I may say, more. But what are these ? I can look upon them now with little pain, and even consider it a happiness to bear them. I request your prayers for the conver- sion of my dear friends at home. You are the first one to whom I have communicated the good news. You were my first Director, as it were, and you were not forgotten in my prayers at the hour of my baptism." Rest thee now, gentle dove! thou hast gained the summit at last, and may safely fold thy wearied wings for a time in calm repose, beneath the shadow of the olive branch, which thou hast at length safely deposited upon the altars of the ark of thy rest I Even the perennial freshness of thy blameless and tri- umphant example — the only trophy thy best search could find on the wide deserts of a world'ileluged by sin, which was worthy to be offered — as a token of Hope for those with- \\ ■ 94 THE TOUNO CONVERTS. i> out, and a beacon of Victory to those within — before the tabernacles of tlie Lord of Hosts! In the attempt to convey a faithful portrait- ure (by the aid of her own pen,) of the char- acter and trials of our precious and lamented young friend, I have now reached a point where it is proper that I should pause, to remark that I would by no means wish to be underst^pd as desiring to represent her as free from human weakness, or above the reach of human emotions. Far from it ! — for it is a daughter of Eve, and not an angel, of whom I am writing! She was warmly affectionate in her nature, and therefore keenly sensitive to coldness, v^strangement and unkindness, in those she loved. She had less pride indeed '-— thanks to the Gracious Hand that presv.rved her more free from the stain of that hideous sin by which the brightest of Heaven's hosts forfeited their high estate — ^than almost any other person I have ever known ; but she was endowed by nature with her full share of that attribute which, when sul^ected to proper re- strictions, forms the crowning beauty of wo- THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 95 man's character, and, without those restric- tions, its greatest weakness — love of approba- tion ; thejrefore her first experiences of odium and contempt settled like iron into her soul. Though determined to act in strict accordance with the dictates of lier conscience, and to follow the guidance of the Holy Spirit in the path clearly marked out for her, by embracing the despised religion of the meek and lowly Jesus at all hazards, and regardless of tem- poral consequences ; yet is it strange when she found herself— from the period of the events recorded in the last chapter — ^standing, humanly speaking, alone, separated from some of her dearest relatives (by differences which had arisen between them and hor parents as to the propriety of carrying opposition to her feelings and wishes in religious matters,vSO far as they had felt themselves in duty bound to carry it), and neglected and condemned by most of her former associates, that her grieved and trembling spirit sought a solace for tem- poral ills, by hiding itself too entirely in the contemplation of the eternal treasures it had gained, to admit of her devoting the time and 96 THB YOUNG CONVERTS. h§:: : i ■[> atteDtion to the due discharge of those daily domestic duties, which she owed to the kind- ness of her devoted parents ? For her ne- glect of some of the least important of these duties, even when the lassitude of disease was beginning to press heavily upon her, she has been cruelly censured by those whose closest scrutiny could detect nothing more serious to condemn in her than some such trivial faults and Missions ; and who eagerly blamed qualities in her which — ^had they been dis- covered in the character of a Protestant young lady — would have called forth their highest encomiums. Though her spirit was ever strong and unfaltering in its willingness to sacrifice aU for God, yet was the flesh some- times weak. When she knew that the finger of scorn was pointed at her, that the en- venomed tongue of slander was busy in pois- oning the very atmosphere around her with its merciless and lying devices, and when she felt the sharp arrows of ridicule piercing her on every hand, was it strange that, wrung with the stinging consciousness of all this, her wounded and a£frighted soul nestled, like a THB TOUNO CONVERTS. »t bird unddr the wing of its mother, more and more closely into the bosom of the sweet Mother of Sorrows and of Compassion, where alone it could find repose ? — That Mother who had felt every pang which rent her tender heart, and could therefore sympathize with every grief I — she who, for the benefit of her adopted children, had walked, with more than mortal mother^B lore and firmness, side by side with her own Divine Son, in the path ' marked with His Blood, calmly acquiescent fcHT our sakes with all the circumstances of the agonizing Sacrifice, through the fiery furnace of human ingratitude, ignominy and cruelty, and can therefore soothe the anguish of her children who are subjected to its scorching fhry, in such small measure as He sometimes permits His best beloved to endure for His name's sake. Can we wonder, if in seeking these heavenly consolations, our de* voted young friend turned away with what was called coldness, indifference, apathy, from the charms of her beautiful earthly home, and from those claims of society whose hcUotmiess she had proved, to feed her hungry soul con- 93 THB TOUNO CONVERTS. ■ atantly on the Bread of Heaven, and apply to itR wounds the Balm of hci chosen Gilead, even the sacraments of '^ the Church of the living God, the pillar and the ground of Truth 7" Was it strange, in fine, that having been permitted to taste one drop of the cup of human contempt which her Divine Master had drained to its dregs, she was so transported to find it^ bitterness changed to such ineffable sweetness as Heaven alone can yield, that her soul thirsted from thenceforth for those deeper draughts to be quaffed only in the calm re- cesses of the solitudes which are sought and found by the chosen ones whom He calls to " forsake father and mother, houses and lands,'' and walk with Him among the most calumni- ated of the lowly disciples of His charity? If, conscious of the desertion of friends and the han of society, she was sometimes lonely and sad — ^if, wounded by contumely and the envenomed darts of calumny, and, more pain- fully than all, by the bitter thought that, to the dear parents whose pride and joy it would be the first and highest of her earthly aims to be (if she could without sacrificing her con- ,■; THB TOUNO C0NVEBT8. ^\f science), she was only a source of mortifica- tion and grief, she sometimes writhed in mortal agony and human weakness — if, pass- ing throngh the fiery furnace, some slight traces of the scorching flames were left upon her otherwise unsullied robes, let us not wonder at this, but let us rather give glory to God for imparting strength to a frail and sen- sitiye child, to undergo the fiery ordeal firmly and with undaunted courage, unto the end ! Let the proud Pharisees of the world — who wash the outside of the cup and platter, who trumpet their own fame, who rob widows' thd\'>nt]i/it9t liieiy, 'of loaV/ beld^ed 'one. Let the* 'dainly' formalisms w*]&d*tkanclle religion so gingerly, and deal it out in precise and measured periods, look down with pitiful con- tempt upon the humble devotion which im- pelled her to retire from the luxurious halls where fashionable butterflies display their finery, and, once in a week, lounge away a few hours in the elegant attitudes and expressions of their languid but genteel fervors. Let the 100 THK YOUKO OOMVIim. f . arrogant disciples of the fake and haman philosophy of the day, the '' wise and prudent^' of this world, from whom the mysteries of Heaven are "hidden," and who therefore fancy, in the darkness of their miserable blindness and unbelief, that there ai'e no such mysteries — they who claim to be the tolerant ones of earth, yet whose iron intolerance would fain crush out of existence all those who siibscribe not to their " doctrine of devils/' their belief in i^nbelief— let all such, in the pride of intellects untaught of the Spirit of God, sneer at what they are pleased to call th^'^':d4lii^di^';.4]lf %^^'ifaitft^^ devotee,""whose' •«)*? ^loi^ 'i^rty 'the* hitfkility of the C^8]h Btit leeifp wJ)'o(m;9J)e i[o^>be- longs — ^we who may' henceforfli claim "her through the grace and mercy of God, and the washing of the regenerating waters, as one of our brightest and most precious jewels, of whom "the world" truly " was not worthy" — can well afford to yield them that contempti- ble satisfaction, while we "thank Thee, Father, Lord of heaven and earth," for the wonders it hath pleased Thee to " reveal unto THE TOUMO COMVIBTS. 101 \ babes," and our spirits rejoice with hers in "joy unspeakable and full of glory \" It is greatly to be regretted that no letters from Debbie to her faithful friend were extant, or rather accessible, after the period of her baptism until the following March, when she and her sister Helen were attending school at Burlington, from which place she writes : " Thursday Morning , March M, 1856 — My dearest and best friend, I will not give you cause to complain again of my neglect in wri- j ting to you. I arrived in Burlington lasir Monday, and although I am quite busy arrang- ing my studies, I could not think of letting this week pass, without sending one of my hastily written letters to Yamachiche. Oh, ma Tante I my happiness is so great, that I cannot wish to have it alone ; I want others to share it with me ! Every day brings me more to realize the goodness of God in bringing me into His Church. Every day I find 9omething more to admire, sbmething more to love; and my heart is too fvU and must needs speak its sentiments very often. To you, my best friend, I can speak of this inward joy. But MMi 102 TBI TOUNO OONVERTI. ! '■ !■ ■'• how few there are around me from whom I can expect sympathy. Jesus has been the one to whom all my joys and griefs have been made known ; and though often with tears I have approached Him, He has taken the load off my heart, and oA, such peace has taken its place! Tuesday Morning, March llth — I have not been well, for a few days, and could not finish my letter as soon as I expected. This morning I intended to haye gone to Com- munion, but I arose with a severe headache, and I am obliged to walk some distance to church, so I deferred it until to-morrow. This is quite a disappointment for me, you may be sure ; but I have the anti- cipation of receiving to-morrow ; and that will make this day a happy one necessar- ily. I find often my sad hours become joy^ ous ones, in looking forward to the hour when Jesus will become my Guest, and though His reception is so cold from my poor heart, how can we have the source of all love so near our souls, and not feel its influence? Oh, how hard the heart must be that mourns not its base ingratitude towards Jesus in the Blessed THE TOUNe OOMTIBrt. 108 ^ Sacrament t Wtiy He comes to us is still a mystery to me when He receives nanght but coldness and neglect from us in return. But His sacred heart is so overflowing with love for us, that it must give us constant proofs of that love. Oh, ma Tante! how I wish I might see you now for a short time. If I could only spend Holy Week with my dear convent friends I Three years ago I was with them all, and then I first learned to love our holy faith. Why am I not with you now^ I cannot tell. I suppose it is the will of God ; but I trust I shall some time visit you all. My hope is strong, and I look forward to the time anxiously. You are still in Tamachiche, and are likely to remain, I presume, for some time. * * * Do you think Kate T will be a nun ? I have thought, from some of her let- ters, that she would. I am sure I would be happy to see her in the Novitiate, Perhap)» you think this singular, but I always thought Kate a person of very good mind, tod I do do not feel nowBS I onee did, that the talented and gifted should belong to the world, and the ordinary ones to Ood, Far from it ; just the 104 THE TOUNO CONYERTS. reverse. When you hear of on^ of your foi> mer pupils becoming a novice, I am sure you are very happy, ma Tante. Is it not so ? I presume you admire their choice of life, and indeed so do I. And now, good-bye ; say an " Ave Maria " for Debbie, and go to the church on Good Friday, and thank our dear Redeemer for the gift of Faith he granted to your joauvre enfarU, three years ago, on that day, praying t, that I may ever remember that it was His love and His mercy, that changed my heart I Do this, I beg of you for Debbie — en- fant de Marie "^ " Burlington, April, 1866 : I should have answered your last letter long ago, but I was waiting for a short time, that I might have some good news to communicate to you, and surely I have not waited in vain. Helen is a Catholic I She is not yet baptised, but will be very soon. She has been to confession twice, and has written to father and mother to obtain their consent. I have not much hopes of her getting it, and I am dreading the result, I assure you. I know there will be more trouble at home than ever, and, poor people ! they will THB YODMO CONtBRTS. 106 1 think the plague htts entered their family. I presume they will think " Debbie's infliience *' is terrible, and as there are three more daugh- ters, they will fear for them^ I hope for nothing ! I fear everything ! But I am tstrong enough to bear it. It is coming hard for Helen as well as for myself. God is my strength, and with His assistance, a^dthe pro- /^tection of the Blessed Virgin, my cross is a light one. I think my father will be here to- morrow, for they must hare received our let- ters yesterday, and they will be very much astonished, I know. I will finish my letter to- morrow. Have been to Communion to-day. Oh I I hav« so much to ask for, so much to be thankful for, in that sacred hour when the God of heaven and earth comes to dwell within my soul! So many desires to lay before the Sacred Heart of Jesus ; bo many infirmities to mourn over, so much grace to obtain! It is a happy time, and each Com- munion a never-to-be-forgotten onel I have had such excellent Directors since my baptism also, that confession is getting to be such a glorious privilege 1 How often I wish Pro- 106 THE YOUNO CONVERTS. testants could go to Confession. jt(8t once/ Their horror of the sacrament of penance would be removed forever, I am sure. Tues- day morning — Helen has just come fr<5m the post-office with three letters ; one written last Saturday, when their indignation was at its height. Monday, that was yesterday, they wrote the others, and are feeling much more resigned, and have given their consent, how- ever reluctant it was. Helen will therefore be baptized on Thursday next, the Feast of Uie Ascension. I am sure you will congratulate me. I am sure also our prayers have been answered, and still trust the time is not far distant when all dear ones at home will be re- ceived into the Catholic Church." The letter which Helen wrote requesting the consent of her parents, and to which her sister alludes in the foregoing, I will now give. " My dear Fu>rent8 — This letter will surprise you much, but as you read it I have only one request to make : regard me with charity and believe that I would not wound your feelings for worlds, if it could be avoided ; but I have confidence in you. * * I am a Catholic. I THE TOUNO CONVERTS. 107 J. have not yet made a public profession of my faith, but my mind is at rest, and 1 desire to Your affectionate daughter^ , Helen." When the reply to this letter was received, containing the consent mentioned in that of our dear Debbie, the sisters'^ lost no time in making preparations for Helen's baptism. The arrangements were just completed when their father arrived,she having been called to Burlington on some business, and he came to see them upon hif^ first arrival. After express- ing his regret at the decision she felt herself ' bound to make, he repeated his " reluctant'^ consent, and* went out to attend to the busi- ness upon which he came. In the course of an hour or two he returned, apparently much excited, and made some severe remarks, con- cluding by absolutely forbidding Helen to ful- fill the intention she had formed, by being baptized. The sisters were perfectly as- tounded by this sudden turn in their affairs, but knew it was not their father's own senti- ments he was uttering, so much as those of some person he had met, while he was out. THE YOUSO CONVERTS. 109 "When ho first came and while he was per- fectly ccdm, he had, although regretfully, con- firmed the permission given in his letter, and Helen determined to act upon thcU permission in accordance with the arrangements she had previously made. I mention these circum- stances thus minutely, because she has been severely censured for acting contrary to her father's injunctions at last Be felt the jus- tice of her course himself, so entirely, that he never reproached her for it ; but when she re- turned home, received her with the same kind- ness as if nothing unpleasant had happened. Our poor Helen I It would have seemed that her griefs upon another score were already .sufficiently poignant, without this addition. But the hand of God was in it all I The trials which had darkened and wounded the gentle and sensitive heart of her sister, would have glided over her sunny spirit like summer clouds, without even obscuring its brightness for a moment. Therefore, her cross was fashioned in a di£ferent mould. But thanks be to God, who gave her " the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ 1" She bowed meekly, ij "w vyL"'" m '' i ^l ■'* * ■ ii " iiii'i ) i^p-'«ww»giwws* no. TBE YOUNG CONVERTS. ':i^ eveu joyotialy to the heavy burden, (none the le88 heavy for her loving reception of it,) and bore it with the same generous firmness that her lovely sister had manifested before her. Yet was the confiict a bitter one ; how bitter will appear in these lines written by her in one of Debbie's letters, to her friend at Yama* chiche on the day of her baptism : " Will you pray, ma Tante^ for one who loves you dearly, yetjj^ms herself unworthy of your love. Passing through deep waters I falter, and am often tempted to turn back ! God alone knows what I have suffered since I left my convent home ! I trust He will give me grace to look beyond this miEcrable world for happiness — that happiness which He alone can give. Will you pray for your Helen I" On the second of May, the morning after Helen's baptism, Debbie wrote to her mother, in reply to a letter Helen had just received from her : "Burlington, May 2dj 1856. — My Dear Mother: This morning I thought 1 would write you a few lines, and I am sure I hope they will be acceptable ones. Helen would- write, but I thought, perhaps, 1 could spare THB YOUNQ CONVERTS. Ill her the pain of bo doing, by writing for her. The subject ot my letter is to be the answer to the one you wrote Helen concerning Mr. . I will assure you of one thing to com- mence with, that she will not grow poor, nei- ther will hT5r health fail, on account of the disengagement. I can tell you what I know of the a£fair, and will try not to * use JesuUir ccA deception,^ in doing it. Last winter when Mr. \isitcd Fairfield, Helen told him that she thought of becoming a Catholic, and he informed her that if it sliould be so, their engagement would be broken. He then re- quested her to send his iletters when she should BO decide. If it had been my case he wovM have taken them then ! After her deci- sion to unite with the Church was made, she wrote to him, returned his letters, etc., as he had requested. I think the affair has been per- fectly honorabl^on her side. She has only done what to creed declares every one bound to do, that is, act according to their ovm con- victions ; and that they are answer aUe for it also. If pretends to be a Protestant princi- ple, ^jvdge for yourself and act accordingly.* 112 THB TOUNO CONVERTS. .\ \^ Slie had as good a right to say to him, ' Be a Catholic and /will marry ^ou,^as he had to require her to give up her soul's salvation and remain a Protestant, and he would fulfill his promiaea. But he will tiemain where he is, in perfect ignorance of the Catholic Faith, be- lieving they * worship images,' ' pay for the remission of their sins,' etc., and a thousand other abominable falsehoods, and require her to join wUh him in his willful blindness, or give him up. ' He hates the name of Catho' lief To be sure he does ; because he wHl do no other way. If his love for her was what it should be, he would look with charity upon her faith, and have some respect for her opin- ions. I do not regret that she has become settled in her mind, for if she had married that gentleman, I should pity her lot. If she did not agree with him in his religious opin- ions she would be obliged to seem to, and her life would indeed be one of misery. I have no sympathy for him, except pity for his fool- ishness ! Helen is very contented ; says she thinks she is quite as good now, as she was two years ago, and if he chooses to think dif- THB YOUNO COM VERTS. 1 18 f^efiUly^ all the same to her. She says she loved the idefiji not the reed ; and I doubt not she will live and very happUy too, if he has chosen to withdraw his promises. Do not trouble yourself, mother, for fear it will have a bad influence upon her usually joyous spirits. I do not think she will think leas of those person-t who continue to treat her the same as ever. Give my love to all at home, and let me hoar from you soon. Your affectionate Debbie." A few days later, Helen wrote to her mo- ther : "Burlington, May Qth, 1856: My Dear Mother — ^Yours was received this morning. Mother, I think you aU do me injustice. I am not laboring under any ' excitement.' When I tell you that for a year I have thought and read upon this subject a great deal, tmU you believe me then ? Will you tell me that I have not regarded yours or father's feelings, or C-— — 's either, when I tell you that, times without number, I have wept, in the privacy of my own apartment, tears of bitter anguish such as few weep, when none but the Eye of 10* i> 114 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. ( \ Almighty God, my Heavenly Father, was upon me. When I tell }ou that at times I have felt as if I could give up my soul's eternal salvation, rather than my earthly love^ tviU you say that I have regarded no one's feelings? Oh, mother I you cannot think so ! You at kast will be my friend f You wtU think that I have loved as truly at least as I have been loved. I do not wish — I shall never wish to retfojce the steps I have taken. I have acted too deliberately to be mistaken. I know that I cannot change! I am confident that God has been with me through all, that His Holy Spirit has guided me, and aright. I knew all that would be said. I knew aU that would be dmie ; and I felt for a while as if I ghould sink beneath the load. But now^ ever since the first drops of the baptismcd waters fell upon my head, have I felt strengthened to bear every thing and any thing for Him who died for me, and has brought me to the true Faith of His Holy Catholic Church. Mo- ther I think not that I shall change or regret the steps I have taken, for I shall not. I feel for you, but I cannot see wherein I have done THB YOUKO CONVERTS. lift wrong, at least as regards you and father. . If you think I have acted a dishonorable part towards C s, I can only refer you to him, and Ite perhaps will do me justice. I was baptized on Thursday, the first of May, in the presence of quite a number of Protestants and some Catholics. I do not regret it, nor ever shall ! Debbie wrote home a few days since. She would like to hear from you. Give my love to aU. I remain, " Your affectionate daughter, Helen." Debbie writes soon after : " May 10th, My Dear Mother — Helen received yours of the 7 th, and as she intends to write to E to-day, wished me to answer yours. I am in hopes to wrfll to E myself, this evening and if I do not, say to her for me that I hope she will not trouble herself too much about C s. I do not think his apparent want of feeling has raised him in Helen's estimation, and as for myself it makes but little differ- ence what I think of it. Her letter to him was expressiye of her true feelings towards , him, and though she knew that he wished to be nothing more than an acqitaintanoe after f'' II /; 1 ii \ 116 THE YOUNO CONTERTS. •.■/)■/ 9 her profession of the Catholic faitWs^ told him she had the same sentiments ot friendship for him as ever, and that she should continue to have. His reply was one which I should hardly have expected from a person of any , amount otj'eding, and I think Helen will trouble, herself-btit very little hereafter about the matter. He addressed her, ' Miss Barlow/ thanked her for her 'offered friendship/ as much as id decUne receiving it. To make his indifference more manifest, he wo^e on a half sheet of paper with a lead pencil/ I have given you the sum and amount of WjHu I know about it She has received her letters to him, and destroyed them. We sha^|||| ready to go home in about two /weeks. .!1^ |Kll write you again soon. Let us hear from you. Helen sends love.. Remember me to all. In haste, Debbie Barlow." I have given this circumstantial account, written by themselves, of an affair which would not have been even allvded to in this work, but for thO'gr. < misrepresentations that haye been spread, a3C> tlte nJ.surd and unfounded , reports that liavt j. rev ailed ia relation to it. i TBI YouKO ^v|arrs. fl^ The next letter we have worn Debbie to hep friend at Yamachiche, was written at Fair- field, ".7'ju Sth, 1856. * * A few moments! wil^ u*" u '}. ^ov4o-hight in spirit, bot it is dep":5d ^lo to be with you reaUy. How Lwish t' e privilege was mine to spend a short time ^ in my cdnyent home, but it seems impossible. Everything works against me in that project. I m^y not see you this summer, but one thing is certain, I shall not be a groat while lonjror^ waiting to visit Montreal, for I am deteiniroed to go there tho first time I leave ^me for any length of time. How often Ttoish I could be witji you once morel This morning I ap- proached Holp^jCommonion, and if I could be allowed to express the joy of my soul to you, ma Tante, you would think Debbie never had cause to regret that she became a Catholic t To be sure, I sometimes feel myself deprived .' the presence of God, and sometimes^ I could be almost discouraged at my coldness, my lukewarm prayers and devotions ; but I know if. I submit to His holy will and bear these in- terior trials with patience, that He will not forsake me. As little as I deserve the many I- • / u 118 THE YOUNG CO NTE EKTS. mercies Jesus bestows upoii. me, I must not complain if I am often in d^irkness. I whhf ma Tante, that I coald become a saint I Is it wrong to speak so freely ? But oh, how much more than the desire it requires I To toish to go on in the way of perfection, is only a little part of the loork. The hill seems often times so long, and I fall so frequently, that I should almost give up, if I ccuild not look beside me and see Jesus ready and willing to assist His weary child. Sometimes I think this life a long time — so little progress in the spiritual life. Good resolutions — confessions — com- munions — and immediately after, perhaps, we offend Almighty God I * * ♦ Ii]ltay be Saying too much ; it might be better if I kept these' things within myself ; still, I know you feel an interest in me, and would like to know my feelings, and how your * pauvre enfant' enjoys her Catholic life. * Enjoys it ?' Indeed I do ! What wotild life be, if God had not been so merciful, and enlightened my poor soul! -Wbbt^tey I do without the sacra- ment of penance ? How could I exist now if the Sacrament of the Altar, the Bread of 1 I THE TOUNO COKVEBTS. 119 Augels, were taken from me ? Oh, God 1 Hather let mo cease to be, than ever be de- prived of Faith. And do you remember where I first learned to love the truths of Christ's Church ? Oh, my convent home 1 Good Friday ! and the Passion of Jesus Christ ! When will ye l>e forgotten ? When shall I cease to think of the gifts bestowed upon me in Mary's Chapel, on the day that a God was crucified for man; and when His sacred passion was, as it were, placed before my soul in its plainest light. Oh, passion of Jesus Christ I who should be devoted to thee ? Surely, it is /—but how cold I am, even at the sight of a crucifix. Oh, ma Tante, if I could only have my heart filled with the love of my Saviour I And will you not often pray that it may be so ? I expect to pass this summer at home. * * * *" Again, on the 24th of June, Debbie wrote to the same friend from Fairfield. After expressing -her earnest de- sire to go to Montreal to pass the next Christ- mas, if she could not be allowed to go before, iind her fears that her parents would not con- sent, mentioning also their apprehensions tliat h k RfTT' "TT i»!4«i(«B!^'^''«ii«n»^s«« «1M»fiM«.W(».r,»,; f( 120 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. Helen would desire to enter a convent, she adds : " I presume iliey think there is no dan- ger of me. I do not think they need fear much, for I am sure I have a mission at home yet, and in fact I think converts as often find it their vocation to remain in the world as otherwise. I am satisfied to do what is righti any way, and if I am to remain where I am, I am willing. If I am to go somewhere else, just as well satisfied. I only ask grace and assistance of Almighty^God to do His blessed will, and then I can say, * Will what Thou pleasesti' Helen's conversion has aroused opposition anew, and I think my father is more prejudiced than ever against our Holy Faith. I sometimes think if I were a hetUr Catholic, it might change his id^as some. If the example were better, the effect might be greater. But oh 1 poor human nature — so liable to err, so weak, so frail. I fear, I trernhky when I think how many things I cfo, that may produce a wrong impression upon the minds of those around me I What an ex- ample mine ought to be, and how far short it falls 1***1 have just returned from the THE YOUNO CONVERTS. 121 , slie dan- fear home a find rid as J righ.ti Q I am, ire else, ice and blessed it Tbott aroused ath^r is lur Holy a letter line. 1^ light be iture — so \l fear, I igs I dOj lion upon lat an ei;^ sliort it from the church. We have had the privilege, for a few weeks past, of having the Blessed Sacrament with us, and every day I can go and lay all my wants before Him, whose home Is in yon- der humble dwelling, there to receive the graces which He daily distributes to His un- worthy creatures. Oh! when iSe condescends to come and make His abode with us, what more can we ask 7 Oh, Blessed Sacrament t what were the world without Thee I what a weary waste, what an endless journey to Heaven it would be! Ah, ma Tante, what a gift of faith was that when Jesus taught me to believe in His Real Presence in the Holy Eu- charist ! Given it was, almost without asking, and why to me ? Oh, the goodness of God, the treasures of His mercy i" * * • During that month, Helen wrote to the same 0*iend at Yamachiche : "Fairfield, June 2Bth, 1856. My Dear Tante — It made me so happy to receive those few lines from you ; | did not expect them, and was very much surprised when they came. Dear Tante, do you remember what you said to me a short time before I left the convent? 11 122 THE YOUNG CONVERTS :f h. I never, never could forget it, or the circum- stances that led you to say what you did. I do not blame you ; you believed as they told you, and I was too proitd to explain, as long as you did not ask me for an explanation. Did I ever tell you that before I went to the convent, God called me to be a Catholic ? or rather He told me that I might find peace and truth in the bosom of the Catholic Church ; and tlmt mother found one day in my room a book that I was reading, and forbade me to finish it. I laid the book aside, for I dared not disobey ; but I never forgot the impres- sion I had received. And whcii, some time after, she told me that I was to go to the con- vent, how I wept for joy, and how slowly the time passed till I found myself within the convent walls. Did I ever tell you all this ? I think not, and yet it is true. Oh I how often I wished to tell yotc just how I felt, but I cotdd not ; times without number were the words upon my lips, and one moment more would have saved mo untold grief ; but the time would pass on, the words ?^ere not said, and I would turn away more unhappy than THE YOUNG CONVERTa. m before ; and then at those times I would do something that would most offend my teach- ers. This is my nature. The last few weeks of my stay there I cared for nothing — for no one, I was not loved ; no one could under- stand me, not even you, ma Tante, so I cast all feelings aside ; only at night, when all else were asleep, would I give way to my feelings. Often would I get up from my bed (regardless of the ru2e, I did not care for that,) and go into the chapel and kneel there till 1 dared stay no longer ! then I would go back and weep myself to sleep. * * ♦ * I used to sit sometimes and watch the moon till I could see it no longer, and wish that I was anywhere but there, for I was not happy. I never went into the garden, but often wanted to go, for I thought that the night air would be 80 refreshing. I started to go once, but gave it up for fear of discovery. You are sur- prised, I know, but this is tr^e. I thought I would tell this to you, my well-beloved Tante, that you might know my faults. You know all J committed except these (and some more that I did not commit at all!) Is it 124 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. strange, dear Tante, that when I came home and saw one who loved me, who could read my heart like a hook, and asked me to love him in return, is it strange that I loved him as fer- vently as I did ? and I lived on in that love, forgetting that aught could shadow its bright- ness ; but again, God in His mercy called me, and, dear Tante, I have given up my earthly treaaure for n better one in Heaven ! I have Tiow fohnd abiding rest ; I care not for the love of the world, only as it will please God to be- stow it upon me. I do thank the Blessed Vir- gin that I am a Oathollj. Our Holy Mother has interceded for meat the throne of Grace, I know ; and now I look to her to obtain the grace for me to love my Saviour more, and will you help me too, my heat friend, to obtain such a favor. I, am watching in patience through the dark hours. I am willing to lay at the low footstool of the Crucified my treasures, every one, and take His cross and bear it through the hours of darkness till the dawn of day, and then I will lay it down and go homo to my rest. I thank you, dear Tante, for that sweet picture. My Saviour crucified ! and my sins TIIE YOUNG CONVERTS. 125 the cause of His suflferingsl When will the time come when I shall sin no more ? Oh, my sweet Tante, I wish I could go to Montreal 1 but I cannot this summer ; it does seem as if I could not wait, but would ^y to youl You know my antipathy to letter-writing ; do let this be my excuse for this frightful looking letter. I have not practiced much since I left the dear convent. If you can have patience with me, will you, sweet Tante, write again to your loving child, Helen." Soon after this letter was written, we re- ceived our first visit from the beautiful sisters, in our secluded home. We met them in church at St. Albans, on Sunday. They were accom- panied by an interesting young friend an3 con- vent companion, who was visiting them from Boston, (the " Jennie" of Debbie's letters,) and the three were there, passing a few days at the pleasant home of another convent schoolmate, (the " Cora," mentioned by Debbie,) just out of the village of St. Albans. As we were there with a single carriage, we made arrangements to send a double one to convey them and their young friends to our place in the evening. We 11* ,^ 126 IHB YOUNO CONVERTS. have ever remembered that visit as one of the few green spots which haVe enlivened our soli- tary journey on the down-hill of life. The music of their clear, sweet voices united in singing the soul-stirring hyttins of their " dear, convent home ;" the cheerful conversations, the. innocent mirthfulness, the merry pranks of our sparkling and mischief^oving Helen, which Were fully entered into by her lovely companions, and enjoyed to the utmost by her more sedate and quiet sister, (who watched her with fond pride, and with more of a mother's than a sister's tenderness) ; the visits from some of the young sons of our dear friends, and from our neighbors, the rambles in the woods, the rides on horseback, the drives, the evening pastimes, and above all, the fervent, iinited prayers yfMeh closed each day— and aU are before me now, and even while I am writing o!|^m, I pause to ask myself^ is it in- deed true imat they who were the means of bringing to our solitudes the "angel hours" of that delightful dream, hsive jpaaaed away in the Spring-time of their life, and the freshness of tiieir bloom, to adorn the gardens of Paradise, THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 191 and to rejoice iii the society of the saints and^ angels, unto whom their pure spirits were united even in this bleak world I In July, 1856, to the great joy of our dear Debbie, hor parents at length consented to her making the long desired visit to Montreal, and even to her remaining a year in Canada to pursue the study of French, if she could make satisfactory arrangements to that end. She w^ engaged in her preparations for departure, and absorbed in the most joyful anticipations of the pleasures which awaited her in her " convent home," until she set out on the first of September, 1856, upon which day she began the Diary from which I shall give some ex- tracts as well as from her letters to her family, during her absence. It is a matter of deep regret, that the sisters destroyed all the letters they had each received, previous to their re- spective deaths. Had their cMeppondence with me been preserved, it iMRi doubtlcfiBs have added materially tb the interest of this biography. The first entry in the Diary is 8q)tember Ut, 1856: "Left Fairfield this morning for 'tv. t*^i 1^ THR YOUNQ CONVERTS. Wk J' . fTontreal ; arrived in St. Albans, and spent Itho night at Mr. Hoyt's. Found all well and ^ in a state of excitement ; Willie was going to Canada, too. September 2t?— At Rouse's Point, I found that some of my former convent friends were on the cars. To-morrow ! to-morrow 1 1 September Zd — Once more in the convent I How can I say anything ? Three years have flown away since I left it. I say Jloum away, not swiftly though, for time has passed slowly and heavily since I bade adieu to this loved spot. The days, weeks, months, and years have brought with them many changes ; some happy ones-HJome sad. When I left I was without the Church of God, (but derived it V then.) Dark days were those, but my heart ^* had received impressions within those convent walls never to be forgotten ! Jesus in Hi» great mercy did not forget me. He has fought the fight foj^ffis weak child, and in the excess of His lo^Wfe placed her in the " Ark of Safety." All glory to His Holy Name I He has also called one, who is near and ^ear'to me, and guided hm footsteps into the fjath of salvation. But, again I am in my convent ^ II TBI TOUNO COKTEBTS. 1^ homo! Can it be? la it possible? It is even so. Everything looks the same. I have been to the nnns' chapel. Is it, 0, my God, a reality? Shall I not wake and find it a dream ? I have closed my eyes and dreaded to open them for fear. But I am right. Those H are the same paintings, the same altars and V and statnes, and even the same venerable old priest who said Mass for ns every morning, three years ago, is offermg up the Adorable Sacrifice. And I have seen all mjr beloved teachers, among them ma Xante S — , she, who had the ^eatest care for my salvation ; she, to whom I owe every, thing. If to-day I pos- sess faith — if to-day I am a Catholic, it is to her prayers that I owe iti^ I am now a child of Mary, it was she gave me mj first knowledge of the devotion to that sweet Mother ; if I was led to \nqnire for the truth, it was ma Tante who gave me the first book ; and illiave seen her again, my friendr— m^ more than friend, ten .thousand times more than that I She loved my sonl because Jesns Christ died to save it. Her reward is in Heaven. The day has passed in a oontinnal visit f I have seen every one ; 180 THIC yOUNO CONVGRra. if been in every room. Not much is changed, nothing but myself. September 4mBm, jP^^0«i de MarieJ' Inowr^^ *- to the Diary: " Janti^ry Istj 1857, New Yeab^b Day — A new year just commencing ; one just past ; and all its joys and sorrows, pleasures and pains, all its chang- es are buried in the great tomb of the past f How many he»,rts have been filled with new joys in the comrse of the year which has just closed? how many have been broken? how many have seen the dearest hopes blasted, the fondest anticipations disappointed ? how many have gained Heaven ? how many have lost it ? and now all is over ! Eighteen hundred and fifty-six will be heard of no more, except in calling up scenes of joy or sorrow, and in weeping over ihe irrevocable past. And where are its moments, hours, days and months? 18* ^ 160 THB YOUNO G0NVBKT3. \^' Hard is this ' ^ answer ; we can only know it has flown as others have, as others will. Our object should be to employ the coming time as we now wish we had the past. Another year is opening upon our poor earth. Would to God it might bring with it less sorrow, less sin ; and my heart is whispering, ' Do thy share, try and fulfill Ihy duties and there will be a little less. Once more, here are good re- Bolutip^s. How long will they last ? No mat- ter, I can keep trying ; and if there is no g»<)od comes of them, I will not have to say I did not make an effort. A long year to look forward to ; I trust ?ome one will pray for me that it may not be altogether lost." " Convent op ihe Congbbgation, St. Eus- TACHB, January *lth^ 1857 — My dear Mother : Your long letter contained much pleasing news. I have but a few moments more to write before sending my letter to Helen. I am hapj to hear you are all so well, and enjoying your- selves so much. I wish you a happy New Year, and all at home. My birthday is past, and I enjoyed it very well here in St. Eue- tache. It being Sunday, I attended church TBB TOUNO CON V CRTS. 151 n morning and evening. Helen will tell you of the feast the day before. I am now nineteen t Getting along wonderfully in years ; I can hardly realize (time goes so swiftly,) that I am aomewhaJb advanced in years. However, it is 60. The Misses B — you speak of, I think I have seen one of them once. I have heard them vei'y lughly spoken of by Mrs. S — , as well as their brother. Give my love to father ; tell him I wish him a very happy New Year, and the greatest blessings with it. Give my love also to all 3iy Mends. Tell E— my let- ter was written some time ago, and I intended to send it, but forgot itc I shall write again soon and a longer letter, but it is growing dark and I must stop now. S — sends her best wishes for the year. Yours affectionately, Debbie, Enfant de Maine." Diary: " Sunday, Ja». 11th, 1857. * * Have attended church as usual ; there is little need of saying thi;^. Since I am a CaitioliCy I believe I generaUy go to church on Sundays — some- what different from old times, when I used to do as I chose about such matters. ' A change came o'er the spirit of my dream,' or I might 152 THft TOU»0 00NV«RT3. K. r #. Bay, / (twdike from my shmh^s, and now I &111 under blessed obedience, thank God." " CONVBNT OP THE OONOREOATIOI^r, St. EuS* TAdHB, Vdt». Wh, 1857— Jtf^ dear Mother: Yotir^ letteria from home were received with true pleasure yesterday. I was sorry to hear that yott had been suffering from one of your headacheSj but I trust you are now much bet- ter. No other bad news was to be found in the fi^ short notes, unless the loss of our State Hoase, by fire, be mentioned. I had not heard of it before your note arriTed. * » * * And now, for news at home. I suppose voa are making some changes from what you say. I shall see when I get home. Of course, I am interested in them all. Father sent me Word he had bought a new span of horses. It wiU give you all a great deal of pleasure, I am sure ; if I am not mistaken you will make good ui^ of them. Anna wrote me that sLe and Heleii were going to Fairfax, to spend a week at Mr. B — *s, of course. 1 was most happy to hear liiat their coughs were so mttch better, and hope they will continue so. Have you had much company this winter? I imagine Fairfield THE YOUNG OONVBniS. 153 quite pleasant about these days. You haye had some pleasant additions to j'oxa society^ too. Some of you asked how I spent Ohris^ mas. I send the letter 1 wrote to Helen at the time, and did not send it for some reason now forgotten. I hope you all eiyoyed your- selves. The girls wrote to me about their * presents, and when I, go to Montreal I will look for mine to them. I do not know how soon that will be. I may go in to attend a ceremony some time this month ; if not, then probably not until Holy Week. I find a great deal of pleasure in going to the city, but I am troubled greatly with sleigh-sickness, when I ride this winter. * * Ma Tante S — is .over any other way than pleasant. They laugh at us for being always together. * * * The other nun here says we save her a great deal of trouble, for she need never ask but one what she wii. have, or what she would like. What one has the other must have ; what one likes the other likes also. I am very well. Give % my love to father ; tell him I am happy to hear of his improvements ; hope he is in good K*- I 154 TBI YOUNO GOMVBnTf. health. Lot me ^ jor soon and often . Your af- fectionate daughter Debbib, Er^aaU de Marie" This note to her sister Charlotte aocomr panied the foregoing letter. "Convent op tub CoNORBOATiON—ifj^ dmr little Charlotte : Your letter gave me the greatest pleasure. I wish you would write often. I heard from motlier thai you could write very well, before your letter arrived, and you must practice. I am glad your pictures pleased you ; and your New Year's present from father and mother. You could not have had a nicer one, in yo?r sister Debbie's es- timation. I cannot tell you much which will interest you. Only know you are often thought of by me every day, every day ; and when I see you next summer, I will tell you all about my school, my friends, and my adventures at St. Eustache. Ma Tante S sends love. Yours truly, Debbie, Errant de Marie, "P. S. — I suppose you have fine drives this winter and high times. Do you grow as fast as ever ? If so, you will bo quite out of my remembrance." TRB YOUNO OONVERTS. 155 jl Diary : " Feb. m, 1857— This is a memora- ble day for mo. Just four years ago this morn- ing, I saw for the first time a convent. Many changes in many things since that time. A real God-Bend being sent to Montreal 1 When iriiall I be able to appreciate, as I should, the privileges I received there ? Feb. M — Four* years ago, I entered as a scholar the convert at Montreal. How changed is everything since then I I look back and wonder at my sentiments. I tliink of my first night there, and my first visit t^ a Catholic chapel. How well I remember the hymns, sung to the Bless- ed Virgin, the statues and paintings, altars and crucifixes that Iiorrified me so much. How contented I felt though, in spite of my at- tempts to look on the dark side of everything. How calm were those first hours in my con- vent home. I knew not why my heart could not find anything to dislike, although it tried. Trouble only came when dovbts rushed like torrents upon me ; doubts of my safety, the safety of my soul. What was I doing to gain Heaven? Was I in darkness or in light? Alas I I found myself going on like one blind u 156 THE YOUNG CONTERTS. without a guide 1 without a thought of the pre- cipice, towards which I was hastening. But these things have made that spot dearer than life to me. There I found that precious treasure, without which time is long, life is all dreariness and eternity is misery without a *Ao/)e of change. * * ♦" " St. Eustachb, Feb, Vlth, 1857 . My Dear Mother— 1 received your letter with the intel- lig(^^ce of your sickness ; I need not say that I am most happy to know that you are so far recovered. I hope you will continue as well as you arc at present. Our winter has been very severe. * * * We expect to go to Mon- treal in about two weeks, if the weather la not too bad — when we have more saow to give us some sleighing. Helen has, I suppose, returned from Fairfax. Has had a pleasant time undoubtedly, and Anna also. I am glad you find the new-comers so pleasant, and hope they will remain in Fairfield. * * * I suppose you know L J s has gone to Chicago. Her father is again married. She wrote me a few days ago ; is very well contented, and likes the city so far as she knows anything of THE YOUNO CONVERTS. J 57 II it. She sent her love to you all. Your girls have left you — Whom have you now, and how do you like them ? Grandmother is failing, you say ; I suppose she does not leave her room. Has father returned? I imagine he is gone as much as ever. Give my love to him. I should be most happy to receive the paper he spoke of— hope it will come. My love to E , and kiss her babe for me. Re- member me to A S , and any one who may inquire. # ♦ #" I remain, as ever, your affectionate daughter, Debbie S. Barlow, Enfant de Marie" " March Sth — My Dear Mother — ^Your let- ter and Helenas were received yesterday, and as usual, this afternoon, after Vespers, I have time to answer them. I am glad to hear you are so much better. * * * * We are hav- ing beautiful weather, after a series of stormy days. I have had a cold, but have now recov- ered. Just a few days before Lent com- menced, the nuns made me take a good dose of castor oUf and I find it has been a benefit to me ; I imagine they wish me to eat more than usmil during the fast days. I am quite well 14 158 TUB YOUNO CONVERTflk now, and every tiling goes on nicely. I went to Montreal last week. I shall not go again nutil the snow goes off, for I was terribly sleigh-sick, both going and coming home. I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. S of St, Albaps, in the city. I had been out doing a little shopping for Ma Tanto 3 , and when returning, met him on the side-walk. He said^ he saw father a few day? before. He knew me,' and of course, I knew him. Probably he has seen some of you since, and told you. I only stay ed in Montreal one night ; had but very little time there, and felt most of that as I do after being on a boat. I am glad to hear you are enjoying yourselves this winter. Helen seems to be perfectly well. Of this I am not sorry to hoar, and she seems ta be en- joying the winter finely. Is A 6 — ^^ yet married? I supposed she was to have been, long ago, * * Everything goes on the same as ever at the missions. S is just as kind and good as ever, and takes care of me well. Sister is always pleasant, and says she shall learn to speak English, qttarrelling tvith me! She does not under- THl YOUNG CON VERM. 169 stand our language very well. ■ It is some time since I heard from the younger members of our family, Anha, Laura, and Charlotte. Tell them they must write to me. * ♦ ♦ ♦" About the time this letter was written, we were fa- Tored-with a visit from dear Helen. Her presence was always like a sunbeam in our shadowed home ; she was so brilliant and mirthful. How dearly we loved the graceful and almost pensive serenity of our contem- plative Debbie, and the energetic, active ear- nestness of the practical Anna, will be known only when the secrets of all hearts are re- vealed ; but Helen, our aiveet Helen, nestled into our home in the wilderness like a bird that was native there, filling the echoing for- ests with the melody of her angelic songs, and enlivening every scene with the gayety of her innocent heart. Dear to our hearts as are the memories of all these charming sisters, we still linger upon those connected with the *^ Urst flown" of the three, with tender emo- tions gushing up from abysses, the depths of which these alone have the power to stir, \ t :. 160 THE YOUN« CONVERTS. while we exclaim, " Oh, Bden was our beau* tiful, our lovely, and our best beloved one 1" "St. Eustache, March 15 : My Bear Ma- ther — ^My things came yesterday by express. Your taste was vory good in selecting them, and all suited. Many, mc.ny thanks for all. I wrote you a few days since, and write now merely to acknowledge the reception of the box, * * I hope you will excuse my haste. I re<;iBived several newspapers with the box, and. was right glad to get them. * * *" The following letter from Helen, to a very dear Av^ic, was written about this time. " Fairfield, March 25th, 1857 : My Dear Aunt — ^Pardon my long silence. I really can not give any good reason for not writing be- fore, onlj thit, I have felt so little inclined to write. All my correspondents hare been ne- glected in the sam" way, and they have good reason to complain. Why did you think, my uear Aunt, that I was not happy ? Surely / am, I think I can safely say that not a hap- pier heart beats in human breast than mine ; it was not so once. I have known what it w as THB TOUKO CONVERTS. to- be iinha{^y. For long years I sighed for happiness, and conld not find it. There was ati aching void in my heart that even the knowledge that I was beloved, by a human be ing like myself, could not fill ; and what will fill the human heart with 'pleasiure like the knowledge of being beloved ? But it was not human love I sighed for, but the love of my God! I now have found the abiding rest for which I sighed so long, ^nd I am happy, happy. Earth hardly fiWktisfies my longing desires ; only in Heaven, where /ai^A is turned to «igfA^, can I be fully satisfied. Oh! what a blessed thing it is to know that our sins are washed away in the all-atoning Blood of our Redeemer I Oh that we were not bound down to earth by this load of flesh, but could soar far above it — and the sins that every day leave a stain upon our robe of baptismal innooeiice — ^and sing the praises of our Redeemer, where sin can no more oloud our visions of his brightness ! The heart can not but be impatient, yet it is better for us to remain for a while, that God may be glorified in us, for we will conquer Satan, and God shall have the glory. Trials are sent to 14* ;^ 162 THE TOUNO CONVERTS. perfect us — are they not, Aunty ? Oh 1 that more might be sent me, for this world gives me none, and I shall be detained long, very long, if no fire is sent to purify m6 here. Sometimes I am weary struggling against temp- tations, and then I know God is displeased with me ; therefore He deems me not worthy of those trials He sends to those He loves. * ♦ " We return to the Diary at St. Eustache. "dprU m, Holy Thursday : Went to High Mass, and received Holy Communion. At three o'clock we went to visit the Blessed Sacrament, and remained an hour. The Re- pository looks very well. In the evening wo went again at about six o'clock, to secure good seats for the evening prayers. We were directly in front of the altar, and had arrived long enough before the time appointed, to have a full half hour, quiet and undisturbed. The stillness, the silent few who were paying their adorations to Jesus in His Sacrament of Love., the dim light of the tapers, and the thought which kept coming to my heart, that my God was there realty, not in imagination, but truly present, listening to the petitions of His crea- THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 163 n tures, made me feel that all of this earth was little worth our love, and that the most we could do for H^m was nothing iu comparison with His great, unlimited lovd for us ; and /, who should be, the whole day and every day, doing something in return for His graces^ often forget Him! At eleven o'clock, ma Tante S awoke me, as I had requested, and we went to the chppel to remain an hour, in commemoration of our Saviour's agony in the garden — the first time I have ever passed that hour before the Blessed Sacrament." " April lOtJi. Good Friday I A day which is ever dearer to me than any other of the year can be I — one in which I love to spend hours in thinking of the past, in bringing to mind my first thoughts on entering a Catholic chapel on that day, four years ago. . Why speak ^f it now ? Meditation is more suited to ui) reelings than words^ at this time I" " CONVBNT OF THE CONGREGATION, St. EuS- TACHE, April VUh^ 1857 — My Dear Father : Tour letter was received yesterday, and I need not say that it gave me the greatest imagina^ ble pleasure. It was almost too good for Lenty s ^•<. IM » THE YOUNG CONVERTS. but to have left it until to-day would' have* , been too great a sacrifice. I was not strong enough for that, and it was read and re-read with a> much delight as if it had been one of the most joyous feasts of the year, instead of Holy Saturday. To-day I could not fail to aiiower it. Your letter was unexpected, therefore it gave me a great surprise. Your account of your stay in Washington was veiT inte^iBsting. I noticed in particular what you said in regard to your visit at Judge Doug- las's ; I heard he had married a young Cath- olic lady ; I am glad you found her so inter- esting. Is Uncle • still in Washington ? I heard of him in Washington, and Aunt — — with him., about the time of the Ina^jguration. I have heard of late a little of the public af- fairs at home; for the St. Albans Messenger has arrived regularly for the last few weeks. I had thfc pleasure of reading the Inaugural Address of Mr. Buchrnan, and a description of the 4th of March at tha Capitol, in a B'rench paper published in Montreal. You- ask how I am, how I like, etc. My health is good ; I have never been better. The nuns THE YOUNG CONVERVS. 165 here are twe excellent persons. S you knew long ago, at least by reputation. I am Rure I never could have found persons more kind than they are. We do not often go out to call, but we have visits from the first fami- lies of the parish — and there is some very good society here, I assure you. I find the- French exceedingly pleasant people, and very polite — great talkers, and consequently good company ; much gayer than the Americans, but seem to have less stability. Upon the whole, I like them extremely well. But to re- turn to my subject : Speaking of the nuns here, I find the situation pleasant in every re- spect, and if things continue the same after vacation, I would like to return in September, since you desire that I should continue French, and I desire it myself also. At present, I un- derstand all of common conversation, and nearly all I read. S says I am a little proud about speaking, before her at least, for she speaks both languages perfectly well. However, the other Sister here speaks nothing but French. Afternoon : I have returned from church, and think I shall have time, be- iK«f :'^m-v 166 THl TOUNG CONVERTS* fore Vespers, to f nish mv letter. To-day is the firBt time it has looked qu'te as tl oug h Spring had come. ♦ • ^ We \my^ hati * ^ trango winter, so chaiigojible ; not so much moro severe then others, but decidedlj' A'£'i«%. ♦ * Give nr love t> mother, and all at hom^ii. I hope to it' ve the pleasure of hearing again from ym. ■-' r.l ior could not give me greater joy. And now, until I see you, ro- m'ftiiibei that my thoughts are often with you ; liot a day, no, perhaps not an hour, that my best wlolieg ar^ not spoken, or, at least, men- tally desired for your welfare. If I cannot do anything in return for your solicitude for jBd in one way, perhaps I can in another. Once more, good-bye. * * * Your affectionate child, Debbie S. Barlow, ^n/a/nt de Marie," ** GONGRIOATXON OP NOTSB DaME, St. EUS- TACHB, April nth, '57 — My Dear Mother-^ Tour letter has just been received, and I have dnly to say in reply to your questions : That gentleman and myself are no more than friends. And there has wet?e»* been any engagement e , isting. Now 1 1 <^ told you this man^ i^'*\' . before, and tell ; .u again that +his mi^y t-nd :..»;. THE YOUNO C0NVBST8. 167 tho raatter ! I am not one of tho persons Iplio trouble themselves over and above much about 8ach matters ; this you must know. Whether I shall eyer be engaged to any one is another question, which time will solve. If I never am^ you may rest assured I shall live just as long and be quite as well contented. You must know, in seeing your daughters Catholics, Ihat their chances are few, so far as the prospeoti of this world cere concerned ; but do not im- agine they are discouraged at this. Far from it ! When I became a member of the Cath- olic Church, I did not lose^l gained, I lost no- thing, not even if all the fondest pleasures of life were sacrlfice.d ; I gained wha.t this world can never give! — what our. holy religion alone can bcdto-v. I Yes, I gained, I repeat it, and in becoming one of the children of the* Chui;ph of Christ, I counted everything in this world as mere nothing compared with the priv* ileges I enjoy ?s 9 Catiicr'c Christian! So do not fear for ,0 i I an* n^t sorry for anything I have don or have had to do. Yo ' know the Catholic Ohnrch. /orbida marriage with Pro- tc sants, and T am most happy to think she f w ■ k\?#» 168 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. Mb does. Protestants abhor our religion, and so we are equal. You seem to think that I ani needed at home ; I shall follow the will of God, which seems to demand I should spend a por- tion of my life there at any rate. Do not give yourself further trouble. — I am a reasonable person, and if I live and die an " old maid " at Fairfield, I shall not care. I expect a long time will see me there." *' 'Congregation op Notes Dame, St. Eus- TACHE, April llthj '57. My Dear Mother— 1 received your letter containing the sad intel- ligence of grandmother's death. I could not feel otherwise than that it was better so, since she has been so long failing and her mind so much impaired. Still let Death come when it will, and where it may, it is always sad. It gives to each one a time for reflection, and a new impulse to the soul to prepare and be al- ways ready, for even if we reach an old age, still we must at last yield to i>eo^A and go. Earth is not our abiding place I I hope fa- ther reached home in time for the funeral—did he ? At last Aunts D— and L — reached hom^ before her death. . am very glad of it, especi- THE TOUN(; CONVERTS. 169 [t a 0. 'a- d ally OD your account. I shall look for a letter soon, giving more of tho particulaxs. Father wrote me while in Washington, and I have an- swered his letter, which was received on H( ly Saturday. He will regret his absence, I am sure, at this time ; however, if grandmother was unconscious, it could not have been a great consolation to have seen her. Who con* ducted the funeral services? — that is, what clergyman ? Ani the friends, — ^were there many present? I presume you are tired enough. I hope you will not get sick. S — sends her love, and condoles with you m your affliction. Let me hear soon again. * * * " Diary : "April Wth. — This morning we had Mass, and all received Holy Oommiuiion. A happy day again. Tes 1 a tlirice happy day 1 It seems as if the hour spent this morning vt'as 80 short — passed so quickly I Oh, my God I and hast Thou been here in my heart once more! Yes I there is no room for doubt! Faith, blessed faith, teaches us this : that He, our Creator, disdains not to come and feed our souls wftli lat Heavenly Bread I Yeg, He comes I- -w re 1 not assured oy th j very 16 it*!" r^. no THE YOUNC CONVERTS. words of His n.^ alli, 1 should be tempted to think He could not have loved us sol but why speak ? He comes ! Oh, my soul I in such a moment as this what canst thou "•»" ** Canst thou know that it is thy Jesus and live? Cans^ thou feel that He is so near, opening His tr^^sures, purifying thee from the stains of fir, pouring His graces upon thee, and re- main indifferent ? Canst thou know that He wh6 has come from heaven, has been made man, has suffered and died upon the Cross for love of thee, and now crowns all by com- ing to take up His abode with thee ? — canst thou know aU this, and not feel that there is no pleasure in the world but that which is found in His service ? Can my heart be cold, when I have Him, who is all love for me, as its guest ? Ah ! it is too often so ! Yes I my God, how often do I approach to receive Thee with little love, with perhaps a very faint de- sire of possessing Thee. But to day is passed. I have had the happiness c eceiving another visit from my Redeemer this morning; Oh! ♦vould that I might keep his graces, that I might live one day without willingly offending THR YOUNO C0XVKRT8. in Him. Alas I while I live, I am always in dan- ger of being ungrateful towards my God." ^^May Xat — The anniversary of Helen's bap- tism. One year ago I stood beside her at the Altar and saw the regeneratiug waters de- fceiid upon her. Oh 1 what a joyous day — ^but all joy is mingled with sorrow I A year has passed, and to-day I am far separated from that dear sister, but in spirit I have beeu with her. I oflfered my Communion yesterday for Iier, and she has often been with me in my ac- w''ons since. I am sure she is not sad to-day, ' en thougli the sacrifice has been great which has been required from her ; still the recom- penae will be much greater." About tbi^ time, a rumor began to circulate in Vermont that Debbie was intending to be- come a nun, and had even taken some prelimi- nary vow in that direction. Her parents were greatly distressed upon hearing this report, and caused Helen to write immediately, inquir- ing of her as to its truth. In reply to that letter, she sava : " St. Eustache, May lUh, 'SI^My Dear Farenta — I have just received Helen's letter. 172 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. dated the 12th, and am somewhat sarprised to licar that yon are all in so much anxiety about my becoming a nun I When I left home, I gave my word that I would return ; my inten- tion i8>not otherwise at present. I have made that promise j it will be fulfilled perfectly. I shall be at home, at the farthest, the last week in July ; I give my word for it, and you may expect me if I am living, and when there, shall probably remain as long as you will want me. Every one seems to imagine that I am in great haste. I wish to assure you that Mr. —z — , of whom you speak, (or rather Helen does in her letter,) expects nothing else than that I should return to Vermont, and desires nothing else ; therefore, I imagine he has been far from spreading any such reports as you have heard. I am very well and very con- tented, as usual. I hope you are all in good health at home. I received the money father sent, and thank him very much for it. I shall probably go to Montreal the last week of this month. I receive the St. Albans Messenger regularly. It has just come with Helen's let- ter, I perceive she is much engaged in her THB YOUNG CONVERTS. m school. Do not let her get sick, for when I go home, I shall want all in good trim. As I suppose, after a year's absence, the news will be plenty ; I shall wish to hear all, and it re* quires some one who talks about as fast as Helen does, to toll them. My love to all. I hope to hear soon and often. Your affection- ate child, Debbie Barlow, Enfant de Marie," Diary : "May 1*1 th I am very anxious to hear again from home, for I am in constant dread that they may come for me. I. begin to feel sad to think vacations are near, and I must again leave the Convent of the Congre- gation. I shall soon wisli to be back, after my return home, and I imagine the long hours when I shall sigh for the happiness of convent life, the quiet of St. Eustache, and, more than all, the frequent visits to Montreal. It is said that ' home is where the heart is.' I know iwUf then, where mine is ; and when I shall be far away, my thoughts will often wander back to the Congregation of Notre Dame, and there find their resting-place. Splendor speaks in vain to an exile ; and pleasure, short-lived, deceitful pleasure, relieves but for \f^ 16* lU THE TOUNO CONVERTS ■■'■Vw I an inBtant the pain of banishment. Amidst the noise and bustle of ar busy world, sur- rounded by vanity and fading joys, his heart turns from this strange land, and finds its hap- piness but in thoughts of Home ! And thus shall I feel vrhen once more I leave my con^ vent home. I have already experiehced the pain of absence from that loved spot, and the second time will be worse than the first* But hopQ on, hope ever ; there may be an end of it before very long I God's will, not mine, be done. I leave cUl things in His hands, and with the Blessed Virgin to assist mo, all must be right." — It may be proper to notice here, a feature, npt the least singular among tho»e which characterized her remarkable religions life, that with all her yearning fondness and devoted attachment to her dear "convent home" and its holy inmates, she never felt that she was destined to be a member of that f&^ vored community. I was indeed ver^ much surprised in the course of the first conyersa- tion T had with her, (some months after the death of her sister Helen,) upon a subject so sacred, that it should be approached by those THB TOUNG CONVERTS. 175 i| in secular life with the greatest reverence, to find that while she felt assured of her voca- tion to consecrate her life at some future pe- riod to God, it was also clearly indicated to her as His will that, (whatever sacrifice it might cost her,) the oblation should be laid upon the altar of the corporal works of Mercy, in her own country, and among her own people. Knowing nothing whatever of the Slaters of Mercy, their rule or the condi- tions of entrance into the Order, she still felt herself drawn to that Institute, and desired to partake with them in those labors which should entitle her to claim a share also in that gracious invitation of Him, whom alone she desired to serve in His poor, " Come ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me meat ; I was thirsty and you gave me drink ; I was a stranger and you took me in ; naked and you clothed me ; I was sick, and you vis- ited me ; I was in prison, and you came unto me." Although He did not permit her to re- alize her ardent desire in this world, we can- 116 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. not doubt that He will bestow the same re- ward upon her in another for her pious and sincere intentions, as if she haJ lived to fulfill them. The letter last presented to the reader did not prove at all satisfactory to her father, who still feared she entertained intentions which were far from her thoughts at that time. He, therefore, wrote to her himself, requesting an ex|^licit and decided answer to his questions. She replied : " CONOREGATION OF NoTRE DaME, St. EuS- TACHE, May 2M, 1857 — My Dear Parents : I have just received the answer to my letter, and am somewhat surprised that my reply to Helen's last, was not a sufficient assurance against the repdrts tliat are circulating in Ver- mont. I thought I was plain enotigh, but as it seems to be necessary, I will write again. I cannot see why you should put so much de- pendence upon what you hear. I have never taken any votes, and. more than that, never said I would, to any living being. I have no <^^r intention, at present, than that which I expressed in my loyt letter. As for what fu- THE YOUNG CONVERTS. in ture years may bring forth, I cannot say, nor any one else ; for the present, you may con- tent, yourselves, for I have come to no such decision as you have heard. But now, since you have so poor an opinion of my truth, and you seem to think that this defect has arisen in my character since I have embraced the Catholic faith, I wish to say a few words. I am very sorry that my good Father has this opinion of me, but I would much prefer him to cast the slur upon me, than upon the Hdy Re- ligion I profess ; but that he shall not have cause to complain of me on this subject, I will repeat what I have often said at home ; that is, that no one need ever expect me to form any engagement, or dream that 1 will ever enter the married life 1 This is a thing long ago settled, — 21. fixed determination, which is just as strong now as ever. * * * My resolu- tion you have often heard. I suppose there is no need of further explanations. I have given you what I think to be a frank answer to your questions, and regard for your feelings has been my principle. Yes, it has always been ; and what pains me the most of any- ITS THE YOUNG CONVERTS thing in tbis world is, that my father has such an opinion of me as to think I would afflict him willingly. If he could know how I felt, when reading his letter — how many tears of sorrow I have shed over the thought that he believes me fieartJeas, he would not repeat the . assertion ! I think I have given him sufficient proofs that I respect his commands, that I love to do all that he can desire, when it does not go contrary to my first duty, which is to my God! And he should know that on this earth, my affections are for my parents. I have none, I shall never have any one before them. I need not repeat these words — they are only too familiar to you now. I hope you will cease to be uneasy, and believe me to be happy and contented. Your affectionate child, M. D. Bablow, Enfant de Marie" The only communication we have from her, during the remainder of her stay at St. Eus- tache, is the following letter : " Congregation OP Notre Dame, St. Eustache, June 7, 1867. My Dear Mother—Yours was received yes- terday morning. It gave me much pleasure to hear that you were all well. I hope Helen THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 119 -will not get sick with her cold. I imagine the weather in Vermont has been something like ours here. In fact we have had but one or two wann days, and at present it is quite cold. If warm weather does not come faster than this, I shall not feel it much. * * * I sup- pose you have plenty to do, as usual. I im- agine I see you somet'mes in the garden. S— has a fondness for flowers equal to yours, and her pupils have been bringing any quantities to her all the Spring. When she has a mo- ment's time she is sure to be weeding or at- tending to her plants in some way. You have not sent me any word about your garden. I am not able to tell you yet exactly what time I shall be home, for the day of our examina- tion is not yet fixed. 1 do not think the warm weather will affect me much — I am so well now, and there are onlv about si^ weeks be- fore the close of school. At present we are preparing for our examinations, and of course all in a hurry. The young ladies here are pre- paring two Dramas to be acted, one in Eng- lish, and the ofcher in French. The former I have the care of exercising, of course. It is 180 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. not very long, and they learn it pretty well for children who are only studying English. The Prench piece is very beautiful. When the programme is made out I will send you one. That will be before long. We have about forty children now — that is, ma Tante S- — 's class— and Sister L- has about the same number. The Congregation has two hundred and four professed nuns, and they have so much to do that it is impossible to have three on this mission. The novices number 'over twenty, and not one-third of them are at the community — all on missions ; and those who are making their first year's noviciate, number- ing over thirty, are most of them in the sub- urbs of Montreal teaching the poor. Sister L- scolds a good deal to think she cannot get another to assist her ; but she does not effect much by it. I have no more time to write. Give my love to father and the chil- dren. Your true Debbie, Etrfant de Mmie.'' At the close of the examinations at St. Eus- tache, in the latter part of July, 1857, Debbie went with her beloved " Tante" to Montreal, where they met the father of that lady, who THE YODNG CONVERTS. 181 had ccme to take the young sister (mentioned by Debbie in her letters as a pupil of the institution, and who has since become a mem- ber of that holy Order,) home for the vaca- tion. He urged Debbie with such cordial politeness to accompany his daughter and him- self to Quebec for a visit, that he succeeded in overruling the hesitation she felt at first, but her parents might be unpleasantly disap- pointed by this further delay of her rettirn home. She therefore wrote to them explain- ing the cause of that delay, and accepted the invitation. She felt herself bound to the kin- dred of one, to whom she owed so much as a Catholic, by f i- stronger ties than those of or- dinary friendship. 7 wo weeks were passed most agreeably in the pleasant family of that friend, during which she received every atten- tion from its whole circle that affection and admiration could prompt. She always re- curred with grateful pleasure to the recollec- tions connected with that visit, and the con- sideration and regard with which she was treated by all. They, on their part, were charmed with their lovely guest, and have ever 16 182 THE TOUNG CONVERTS. remembered her with sentiments of affectionate esteem, bordering upon veneration, for the sur- passing loveliness of her Jxi iracter, person and manners. She was also very much admired in Quebec beyond that family circle, as well as in the other parts of Canada where she was seen, and had not her irrevocable, choice as to her future state of life been made knowii, she would not have lacked numerous opportunities for establishing herself, (in a worldly point of view,) in the most desirable position. About a month after her return from St. Eustache, we received another visit from her and her sister Helen, whose health was beginnirig to exhibit symptoms that awakened the most lively ap- prehensions in our hearts, as well as in that of her sister, on her account. Indeed, among the most touching of our cherished memories of the sisters, are those of the solicitude, (more maternal thatf sisterly,) which Debbie con- stantly manifested for her precious Helen, and the loving appreciation with which they were received, while the roceptance of them was always marked by some mischievous drollery or merry conceit on the part of the recipient THifi YOUNG {a •; J-ERTS. 183 which was all hi* own. Their natures, dis- tinctly marked by o jposite attributes and wide diversiiies of temperament, seemed to fc3 drawn into still closer union by those very contiasts. The isolated position in which they stood, bound so lovingl" together by the golden links of the Cat', lie faith, made the thought of their possible separation by death even more painful to th* ir Catholic friends, to whom they were inexpressibly dear, than to themselves — so well had they learned at that early ^^'^riod of life, by the aid of peculiar trials, the diffi- cult lesson of perfect conformity to the will • of Go J,' which is rarely acquired durii the varied experiences of a long life. We liaa ^ 'Ut just entered upon the enjoyment of theii visit, when a distresssing accident, which befell a member of our family interrupted the pleasure, and was the means of hastening their a^par- ture. They left us, however, wiii the promise of an early return to finish the visit. It would have been a jiorrowful parting indeed for as, if we had known that the promise was des- tined never to be fulfilled, and their presence together, (in consequence ef changes in our do- 184 THB YOUNO CONVERTS. mest'c arrangements, which brought a large accession to the numbers of our household, for that year,) was never again to enliven our solitudes. The following extract from a letter, written by Debbie, to a young friend from the southern part of the State, (then attending school in Burlington,) whose recent conver- sion had filled the hearts of Catholics with joy, will, I am , sure, be interesting to our readers : "Fairfield, October ilth, 1857. — Sunday Evening. 3Ji; Dear Miss — My Sister Helen has teased i<; to night until I have promised to write to josi before I go to sleep. I had intended to do so myself, but not being very well, had given it up. Although our acquaint- ance has been so very short, still the interest is as great, which we feel for you and your sis- ter, as though we had been friends for years. And why should it not be so ? Called as we have been, so similarly to the Catholic faith, alo^e as we are, the oldest of our familiei — WG can not but feel drawn to sympathize with one another. I have long desiied to meet and know both yourself and your estimable sister THE YOUNO CONVERTS. 185 whom I iiavG heard spoken of so frequently. I have learned to look to my Catholic "riends for pleasure, and may I not number yoi •? them? * * * The heart yearn? mes for some one with whom something eidc te spoken of beside the vanities of this world. To-day I heard a sermon which made me think of you as well as myself. It was on * Thanks: giving for the Gift of Faith.' Truly we are among the number who have reason to be thankful to Almighty God i * * * We can- not speak half we feel 1 Of our heart's senti- ments we have to keep the greater share to ourselver ; for can we speak when the soul is most absOibed in the one great theme — Jesus our Bdoved ? Still we can help each other in our bearing of His Cross, and the encouraging word of a friend in the trials of this life arc like balm upon the wounded spirit. The hand of Charity, given to assist us in our journey through this vale of tears, is ever welcome. Then we will be friends — will we not ? Let our prayers be united for the conversion of those near and dear to us, and for our perse- verance. Give my love to your sister ; send 16* <^, IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 11.25 I^|2j8 12.5 ut WL 12.2 |,^|2£ WWi- IMli4 ^ ^%. ^1^ ■^ Photographic Sciences Corporation ^ 23 WiST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 145*0 (716)873-4503 ^4S 186 THE TOUNO CONVERTS. ♦t» my letter to her if you choose. I should be most happy to hear from her if she will faror me 80 much. Heleu sends love. * * She will write when she is able. Let us hear from you very soon. We should be so delighted ! Bemcmber us in your fervent prayers." * * She writes again to the same friend : " Fairfield, Nov. 13, 1867. My very Dear Friend — I need not assure you that your re- ply to my letter received a most hearty wel- come, from both my sister and myself; firstly, from the fact of our regard for the writer ; and secondly, the very pleasing news which the letter contained — that of your sister's bap- tism. Yes ! I can rejoice with you over the entrance of a scul so dear to you into the fold of Jesus Christ. ♦ * I have joined with you all in thanksgiving for the gift of Faith which has been bestowed upbn her while yet so young. You may well say, it would be a happy thing could she die before sin had sul- lied her baptismal robe 1 And yet, if so it could be, no occaeion would she have had to prove her love for our dearest Lord. * * Life is not so dark as we often feel it is, if we THE TOUKG CONVERTS. 18T only spent it in working for Him who has done so much for us! True there is always sin in this poor world, and this almost tempts me to wish I had died in some happy hour when my soul was in a ptate of grace ; but then the thought comes to me, I must not be lazy, Jesus desires us to work awhile here, and, though poor laborers, we surely can not refuse the little we can do. However, I think he favors those whom He calls to an early home. They seem to be pure souls, whom He can not bear to see remaining here to suffer. But to return to your sister J. : give my love to her, and tell her that I shall expect a share in her prayers, * * * I, too, my dear friend, have seen a beloved sister received into our Holy Church. It was one of the happiest days of my life, and the hour when I saw her r^ounce the world and its vain joys, I could not but recall the same time in my own life, . and live it over again. * * Time passes away and I am little aware that nearly two years have elapsed since I made my profession of the Catholic Faith I I am still finding new beau- ties, and so I suppose we always shall. In 188 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. thanksgiving for the great blessings we have received, what coM we do too much ? I am writing while Helen sleeps. She has not been as well for the past few weeks. I am somewhat discouraged about her. Her cough is very troublesome, and many of her symp- toms are worse. Her spirits are always gay. She sends love to you and your sister also." Helen's health continued to decline during the succeeding winter, though so gradually as hardly to be perceptible from week to week. In the early part of that winter, their friends had decided upon their accompanying some acquaintances who were expectinjp" to pass that season in Florida, and every pr ation and arrangement was made for their departure. Subsequent and unforeseen occurrences com- pelled those acquaintvoces to relinquish the plan, and they also gave it up much to Helen's relief, for she had regarded it with -reluctance from the first. She seemed to feel quite sure that the disease, which was upon her, had al- ready advanced too far to be arrested by any change of climate, and that she should be sub- jected to much fatigue and many discomforts THB TOCNO CONVERTS. 189 withoat realizing any permanent beneftt, vhieh was, perhaps, a just view of the matter. Our poor Pebbie felt keenly the pangs of their approaching separation. She wrote but little during the winter — an occasional short note to her friends at St. Eustache, or to some other friend, informing them of Helen's condi* tion, from time to time. In March, 1858, she writes to the former from Fairfield : " Ky heart would fain fly away from here» and be with those who seem, as it were, kin* dred spirits. I am ill at ease with those who understand me not. But, hu^h ! I must not complain. I should not raise this yoioe against what seems to be the will of my Divine Sa- viour 1 and I did not intend to — Heaven for- Md! I only speak from the fullness of my h^rt, knowing to whom I am addreasing my- self. You know, ' Out of the abundance of th^ heart the mouth speaketh ;' and so I write ix^ 9ia Tan^ S-— • . You compliment me in your last letter ; shall I tell you how ? You say y(m " feel certain that God loves me f so do HIp Ify crosses, though small, are sufficient to prove to pe that my Heavenly Father remem- 190 THE YOUNG CONVERTS bers me. The ' back is fitted for its burthen/ you know, and I am certain I shall have none too much. Since I have chosen Jesus for my guide, my love and my model, I cannot shrink from the Cross which He presents — ^from the path He has trod Himself; besides, is there 80 consoling a thought as that God " loveth whom He chasteneth?'' This is my consola- tion and it is sufficient. 1 have been to St. Atkbans and seen our good Bishop — had a pleasant conversation with him which cheered me very much. His cheerfulness, his smile of approbation, and his blessing, are enough to encourage any one. Saw Sister C also while at St. Albans — ^felt like a chUd, The pasl came up, and in one moment I lived it all over again! I saw at a glance the enjoy- ments of the few months I had spent at the convent ; I felt that I would give worlds to lose sight forever of the weary scenes of life, and, leaving all, be consecrated to the only Object worthy of love ! These thoughts fill- ing my mind, and the warm welcome — the words of sympathy — which she gave me, were too much I I went from the house, and en- THB YOUNO CONVERTS. 191 tering the church, wept until my heart%as re- lieved in the presence of the Bles&od Sacra- ment I It was Thursday evening, and some preparations were making for Benediction. The " Tantum Ergo" came over me with its usual calm influence, and soon my soul was soothed to peacdfulnessi I no more looked upon the darkness and affliction of my pres- ent hours, but, forgetting all, I could look to Heaven and return thanks for the blessings received — the great gift of Faith 1 for which we can rtever be thankful enough. As the "Compar ait Laudatio" died away, and the silence rendered the scene more impressive still, I felt tlie load removed, and after the Benediction was given, all was over! The tears fell fast, but they were tears of joy rather than sorrow. Was it not enough to make me feel submission to the Divine will ? to make me come and accept cheerfully the crosses and trials of this life ? Ah yes ! one hour in the presence of Him we love — one Benediction, is sufficient to pay us for all our sufferings ! Oh ! ma Tante, I could speak of Uiese things forever — could you not ? - The 102 THE YOUNO CONVEHTS. love of^ Jesus for man ! — Is it not a talc often told, but never tiresome ? — always new, and each tindB more beautiful I " To the same : " Fairfield, April, 1868. * ♦ Passed Holy Week with Helen at St. Albans, at Mr. Hoyt's : enjoyed it very much, though Helen-was able to go oat but very little. She went to Mass on Holy Thursda^y, but not until after the Credo was sung, when Mr. Hoyt went and brought her over to the church. She received Holy Communion on Easter Sunday. I went with her about half-past seven o^ dock in the morning ; in fact she was hardly able, but wotdd go, and said in so doing: "It is my last Easter Communion, and perhaps, Debbie, the Icisf time tve shall go together J^' Dear &ister, she is fast going Aowie, and she is so lovdy /—every one spjeaks of it. She is the very same Helen as far as gayety is concerned, and so hctppy, so pectceful, so pet- fecdy resigned to the will of Godl It has always been her favorite virtue, resignati&iij she says, whatever she may have doiie, she has always endeavored to say under dU circtfii- stances, ' God's will be idone I' and truly she THE YOUNO CONVERTS. 193 Iti&n } Uhas rctfin- is not les3 ready now than ever to repeat It * * * She is fading gradually away, like some beautiful flower. From day to day I watch the change, and think truly she is too good for earth. She suffers more than many in consumption, but is always 'patient. * * *" I will now give extracts from some letters to her young friend at Burlington, who, has been introduced in the preceding pages. "Fairfield, AprU Wth^ 1858. My Dear Friend — * * * was very thankful for your kindness in writing ; and hope to hear from you still oftener. Your letter brought wel- come news. I want to know how you manage to gain your father's good will as you do. It seems so singular that he should allow ;, ; ir sisters to be baptized. I do not understand it. But oar Divine Lord sees fit so to havo it ; and I cannot complain if He deals another way with us. I congratulate you, and your good sisters, and begin to think your prayers are more fervent than mine, and that I shall enjoy some of those blessed privileges when I am better myself. * * * * Our dear Helen is failing. • • • Truly she will gain in leav- 194 THE YOUNG CONVERTi. ing this poor world ! I can hardly imagine she is to go so 8oon, but I must give her up. She has been my companion in joy and in sor- row. She has stood by me through the varied scenes of the past few years, and it is hard to think I must be separated from her, but God'fli will be done ! Ho knows what is best and I cannot murmur. It will be but a few short days, and I trust, we shall be united whore partings are never known I My heart was sad this morning. I went to receive the Bread of Life, and she was not with me. Last Sun- day we both went, and she remarked, " this is probaUy the last time we shall go together.'' She said, she felt sensibly that she was fail)^. * * * She ia happy, Q.ndl tr.ust we shtdl be resigned. I will remember you ipr^jpo^jpray- ers, and the church in 0^ , aad ii^. return you must pray for us here. ***"'- To the same : " Fairfield, jfa^ 2(i,4858r— Sunday Evening — My kind and lov$tl Friend -—While I write,^ you undoubtedly: are prcisent at the Evening Office of the church, and I l^t your thoughts turn to me once in a whilf,;if^d you breathe a silent prayer for my perJfuue- TRI VOUNO CONVE ij^. 195 V. ranee. While you, my dear friend, are thus en- gaged, while the sounds of earthly music are bringing to your soul sweet thoughts of the celestial choirs, / am joining you in spirit, though absent in body. I have read my Ves- pers, and am quietly seated in my room writ* ing to you ; and as I proceed, the happy emo- tions of my heart seem to wish utterance. I am thinking of you and me^f the mysterious love of our God in calling us to such an in- heritance as He has. » ♦ ♦ ♦ I have been listening to some conversation with regard to the great eocdtemenJt throughout our country, termed a ' rdigiaua awakening ;* and more than -ever, it seems to me, I have returned thanks to our Heavenly Father for the gift of faith lAll^. He has bestowed upon me. These 'ProtesmA * Eevivd'^^ have brought very forci- bly to m^ mind, the unspeakable blessings we have recmed in being rescued from such delu- sions, and admitted into the Church of Jesus Christ. And why us more than others ?^ This is a question I often ask. But we know not ; we only know it was a grace given us of God's own'free mercy, and not from any merit of our IM TBI YOUNO CONVERTS. own ; for wo hardly wished for the gift at first, but He drew us by His love and gave it to us almost without our asking it. * * * The Month of Mary is just commencing. I suppose there are services in the church in Burlington. I had the happiness of being in St. Albans to commence the month, and received Holy Com- munion there yesterday morning. * * * As for myself, I must be content with reading my meditations, and saying my prayers for this month pretty much alone. I suppose your sister S is much more lonely in than we are here, and when I am tempted to complain, she rises up to condemn me, and I am silent, Helen has been more comfortable for the past week. Perhaps it is nothing last- ing — I dare not hope too much. * * * I thank you for your words of consolation, and should know from your letter that you tridy sympa- thize with us. ''^ ^ Helen and Anna join in much love to you and your sisters. * * *" About three months later she wrote to her friend at St. Eustache : " Faibpield, July 2m, 1858— * * * Since I wrote you last Helen has failed considerably. .'•* u TBI TOUNO CONVEirra. 19t n Sho continues very cheerful all the time and seems to have no fear of death. She receives the sacraments every week now, that she is confined to her bed. Her stomach and bowels being equally diseased with her lungs, she has to avffer a great deal. Her constant cheerful- ness is a subject of surprise among our Pro- testant friends, and admiration to Catholics. In hours of severe pain she changes not her smile, and between moments of distress and anguish she will converse and laugh with those around her. She receives visits from all who ever knew her ; they often say to me on leav- ing, * How can Helen be so happy, she mnat have something to sustain her I' If they only knew ! y they only knew I To me it is a great consolation, you may be sure, this her peaceful frame of mind ; for when I am looking forward to my ovm loneliness after her departure, I feel less sad to think that I shall have the memory of her submission to the will of our Divine Lord. (I had better say joy in it.) * * * The consciousness that I am doing the will of God is enough to make me content. I am sometimes lonely for St. Eustache, but I 17* 198 THE YOUNO CONVERTS. will not complain. I had a year there which I little deserved, and it will never be forgotten. The remembrance of the graces there received, and of the quiet happiness of my sojourn with you, will be among the bright thoughts of my future I * * *" In a letter to the Compiler of these Memoirs, written Aug. 1st, 1858, Debbie says : " Helen is now very feeble — does not sit up at all. I can see that she fails from day to day. * * * Y6u probably hear from her other ways, there- fore I will leave the rest until you see her, which we were so happy to hear, we might hope would be very soon. Helen and myself have looked for you and Mary to visit us, and longed to see you both, but we know also how little time you have to leave home, since your family is so large, and of course, have made all allowances. I heard from father R of Bishop Young's visit to the family of out faith- ful Libbie in Ohio. I should not be surprised if her friends should yet be united with her in the precious bonds of the Catholic faith. Wliat a joy it would be for her, for us, for every Catholic heart the world over — another THB TOUNQ CONVERTS. 199 glorious conquest of Faith 1 Be sure, I have not forgotten to pray for them ; and for her, that she may be allowed to go to the Ursuline Convent in Cleveland, as she desires. It would be such a happiness for the dear child! I must not write more to-night, for I have not the time. Poor Helen says, * I shall probably never visit my frier da again, they must come and see me.' You little know how feeble she is, and how much attention she requires She joins me in warmest love to you and Aunt L- , who is, I hope, improving in health* I have heard several times she was not well. Present our kindest regards to your good hus- band S , Mary, and all your family. I re- main, yours very affectionately, Debbie Bar- low, Enfant de Marie.'* In fulfillment of the expectation mentioned in this letter, we went, (Mary and I,) soon after its receipt, to pass a long summer day with them in Fairfield, starting very early in the morning. A short passage connected Helen's room with the parlor into which we were conducted upon our entrance. Debbie met us with great joy. ,We stopped to make 200 THE TOUNO CONVERTS. some inquiries about Helen before going to her, when to our surprise the door into that passage opened suddenly, and Helen was be- fore us 1 I shall never forget how like an angej she looked as she stood in that doorway ; her face all radiant with joy, and the folds of her lone white muslin robe floating about her! She had recognized our voices and could not wait for us to ask questions, but must see ur f^^ once. It was so like our own Helen \ Neither can I ever forget the emotions thai swelled my. heart almost to bursting, as I fold- ed her in a long embrace, and then with lov- ing chidings, half playful, half assumed to hide the grief which must be suppressed, led her back to her bed. It^^as one of the few occa- sions upon which Debbie had known her to yield to the strong emotions of which we knew her impulsive nature was so susceptible. After the momentary "April shower" the old sun- shine glanced back upon us, as with one of her merriest laughs she said, " It itiade a hahy of me to see yow, aunty, to think of all the past, and to know it ifi all past — will return no more forever 1 But sweeter than memories of THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 201 I ! J no of pleasant hours is the will of my God !" "Yes," clasping her thin white hands together, and smiling, while her uplifted eyes beamed with joy and love unutterable, " to know that I shall so soon see Him as He is, and with the blessed saints adore Him in His glory, is worth more than all the joys a thousand worlds like this could give 1" She would not let me leave her that day. Even when she must rest a little while, her hand was clasped in mine. How reluctantly I left her at its close! and how well did I forbode that I should never see her face, or listen to that dear voice again ; even while I flattered myself and her, that I idight be able to go to her again before her de- parture I I seems to me as I recall it, that the face was never so radiantly beautiful^ or the voice so softly sweet, as during those hours of my last interview with her 1 A few weeks later Debbie wrote to St. Eustache : " Fairfield, Sept., IS58.— My Dear Tante S * * Letters from St. Eustache float like sunbeams across my path, shedding light where all seems dark around me 1 They are always so fvll of consolations and cheering w 203 THE YOUNO ooinrEivni. with all the rest, that Hove them more and more, each one that comes. Our Divine Lord always gives something to console, even wheft He is afflicting His children the most, and I sometimes think He has done so in mj ease, by sending me such fViends as I have. I fear I am not thankful enough to God for those greal gifts. Since I wrote you last, our dear Helen has continued to fail. One week ago, Fathei^ Br- gave her Holy Communion and Ex- treme Unction. She has been more comforta- ble since. She was as calm through it as fliie has been through all. The day following, our good Bi^p eame to f^air^ld to visit her. She seemed to enjoy his visit very much. He told n^ onr leaving that he thought her ' dispo- sitions the most remarkaUe he had ever known' — that he had never seen a person who^^ had seemed, from the very first, m completdy resigned to the will of God. And he is right. She has never said, ' t wish to Uve/ 1^ ' I wish to die J She has always said it was li matter of perfect indifference to her, that 1ib» was in the hands of God, and He would d^ with her as He saw fit, and it would ^H h THI YOUNG CONVERTS. 203 Hght. I haye neyer heard her say that she wished to be released from her suffeiings.. The nearest approach to anything of the kind that I have heard, was a few days ago. She had suffered much for want of breath. I was mtting near her, and she finally said : ' Oh, how long do you think, Debbie, I shall carry about' me, this poor body ?' I replied, ' Not long I think, dear V She looked at rae, and such an expression of delight passed over her countenance as I have seldom seen, while she exclaimed, ' Won't I hreaihe eaey^ then I and it will be a differmt air from thisf' On the eve of the Assumption, I was leaying her room to go to my own, and as I went up tQ her bed to bid her good night, she said to me,' 'We e^U wake to a glorious festiyal to-mor- row ; what if I should awake ' in a hetkr world ?'' I asked her if she would like to. * If it wisre the will of God, I would not 6b- jfc^ P was her reply. It is wch a consolation to see her thus ! How can I ever be thankfid enough to Almighty God in her behidf ! "^ ** A life of thanksgiving would be nothing t She has given away all her things ) that is^ all she \V 204 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. yalued. She has spoken of her burial and all those matters, so as to relieve me ; she says she speaks of them as she would of any other occurrences which were expected to take place. Her calm exterior in parting with friends, ^r- prises me. « « >» Her whole demeanor is calm and cheerful, not cold. If she sees a friend shed tears, she says, * Are you not more coura- geous than that Y and so she is through all. I pray God she may continue so. Father R — brings the Holy Communion to her every week. ♦ * What is gain for her, will be loss for us I Helen is a lovely girl, (if she is my sister) and too much so for earth. I complain not that Heaven has chosen her ! Anna is not yet baptized, and difficulties are abundant in the way. They seem to multiply around her. * ♦ *" Thomas a Eempis says, "If thou Ladst a pure conscience, thou wouldst not much /ear deaihl" It was doubtless the profession of that treasure, joined to her peculiar natural cheerfulness, that enabled Helen to take the remarkably calm, even pleasant, view of her approaching dissolution, which has been the •'»*..., THI TOUNO CONVERTS. 205 dceasion of reproachful and censorious com- mentaries on the part of some who were ever watching these sweet sisters to detect some- thing to condemn in them. They little dreamed, indeed, that it was the depth and fttrt^or of a piety whose warm gushings were nbifot their ears, which had thus overcome nittafe in this child of Faith i "St. Albans, JVov. Hih, 1858— 3fy Dear Tank 8—1 have, this thorning, to communi- cate to you the sad intelligence that our dear Helen is no more of this earth. She died la&i Friday morning, at a <|uarter before ten, and h^ funeral was attended at Fairfield, at eleven o'clock, on the Feast of AU-iSaints, (Nov. 1st,) after which her remains' were brought to St. Albans for interment. I am sure you will desire to know all the particn- lirs of her death, and I will try to give them in fhll. On the Thursday evening previous to Thursday, the last day of her life, she com- menced sinking rapidly. Wc called in a phy- sfdlan, and she asked him how much longer he thought she had to live? He told her but a short time, though probably for a day or two 18 w t • 206 THE YOUNG C0NVKRT8. longer. From that moment her countenance assumed the most joyous expression I ever saw it wear, and so continued until death. She remained pretty comfortable until Tuesday night, when about three o'clock in the night, or rather Wednesday morning, we thought her going. The physician was in the next room.* I stepped and spoke to him, asking if he thought there was any change ? After watch- ing her breathing for a short time, he told roe he thought there was. She then requested the family to be called. Father and mother, and the other three sisters were called from their beds, and we all stood around (what we supposed) her dying couch ; she was supported by pillows, and sitting up. The scene was be- yond description. Father was bowed down by grief, and Mother worse ^— but Helen! what shall I say of her ? A bright smile, a * The slsten \vere deeply attached to this phjiddan, who also entertained a most afl^otionate regwrd for them. So strong was the interest they felt for his spirit- ual welfare, that, at their joint and earnest reqaest, the Compiler presented his name to a pious coafiraternlty, formed for the sole purpose of praying for the conversion ot those who hai^,|^iife8ted an interest, at any time, in our holy Te\lgjtB^0^mpUer. THE TOUNO CONVERTS. 207 lion ia look almost of delight animated her features, as she addressed each one separately. She called Laura and Oharlotte, and embraced them both ; then taking Anna by one hand, and father by the other, she said to the former, * You promise me, don't you, Anna ?" Then turning her eyes towards father, she spoke in this way : * Father, I am almost home ; my w if 226 THE YOUNG CONTEBTS. yf a } t To the same : "St. AlbAnb, Nov. 2ith, * * * *" My own health continues about the same. Anna is wofse than I am now. I am fearful she is not going to be any better either. We are very anxious about her, and our phy- sicians also. She does not leave her room, and having a very delicate constitution, the disease she has had has nearly proved fatal. We iiow fear quick consumption. The Doc- tors 8ay there must be a change soon or she will not be with us long. I have almost for- gotten my own troubles in my anxiety for the poor child. She is good and patient as you ever saw any one. I am not strong enough to do for her as I did for Helen ; in fact, I am but just able to wait on myself. * * * * My heart, however, is very light, sickness does not make me sad. I shoud pity myself if it did 1 * * *" She was prevented from finish- ing this letter for some days, and then adds : *' Anna continues about the same. My Uncle Pierce is now here. - He thinks her case ap- pears almost hopeless. So continue our trials ; I shall probably live to see her die also. i'} (1 THE YOUNO CONVERTS. 227 / I * Only going a little before/ as our beloTcd Helen said, a few days before her death. * * * The real pain of sickness consists in our pri- vations in holy things. No Mass 1 Commu- nions but seldom. No visits to the Blessed Sacrament. * * * *" About this time Mr. Hoyt's two oldest daughters came to St. Al- bans for a visit of a few days, a portion of which they passed in their former home with Debbie's younger sisters. She expected to ac- company them when they returned to Burling- ton. Anna became suddenly worse and she could not go. She wrote by them to Mrs. Hoyt. " St. Albans, Nov. dOth, 1859—-% Dear Mrs. Hoyt — A and M are leaving for home to day, and I intended, when they came^ to have gone with them ; but it has been ordered otherwise. Probably you heard from Mrs. Hunt of Anna's low condition. Since Sunday she has seemed to fail rapidly, and we have now little or no grounds for hoping she will ever be any better. Her symptoms are all bad — ^not one in her favor. Her limbs are badly swollen, and, in fact, her body seems to \ if .ij 228 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. tU n m 11 be most of the time. Monday afternoon we thought it safest and best for her to receive the last sacraments, as Father C was leaving for his missions, and would be absent until Saturday. We had been told by her physicians that, should we see certain symp- toms, we might be alarmed, and look for a speedy termination of all her troubles. They appeared, for the first time, Monday morning. I suppose, if there is no change, she can last but a short time. She is perfectly conscious of her situation, and as cheerful as ever our dear Helen was ; though she did not expect so soon to be called. When I told her the opinion which had been expressed with regard to her, the intelligence was received without a sign of emotion. She answered me thus : * I did not expect it so soon ; but it is all the same.' It is rather sudden to us all, though her health has been poor for a good while. It seems to our father and mother that they are losing their family as soon as the Catholic Church receives them, and tlie former often expresses himself to that effect. He cannot see these afflictions in any other light. * Anna had mis- 'J 1 m il i, ^ > ■ ■ fHB YOUNG CONVERTS. 229 erable health long ago — four years to-day, you may remember, /do nut forget it certainly. I have reason to be cheerful this morning, even in a sad house. It is the anniversary of my baptism, and AmvoHa too. It is just a year since she was received into the Church. We aire neither of us too down-hearted to-day, I assure you, though somewhat disappointed in our p^ns. We had intended to spend the feast rather differently. Do not forget to pray for us. * * * I would like to see you so much. A— ^ — will tell you all. We were delighted to see the girls, and hope they have enjoyed themselves. They have been here but little— I wish they had been more, for it seemed such a pleasure to Anna. She is able to see all her friends. * * *" Her next letter to her be- loved friend at St. Eustache was written with a pencil. She was unable to hold a pen. "St. Albans, Jan. 4iA, 1860 — Wednesday morning, * * * You think strange, I am sure, that I have been so long without writing to you ; but I have not been able, and am not now. I was very weak when I received your last letter, and in a few days I went to Bur- • 20 \ ■■ 230 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. lington. I remained three weeks at Mr. Hoyt's. I received every care and attention that could be given to any one, but continued to fail^very day. I came home last week, and am now go feeble as hardly to leave my room at all. I- have been trying everyday to write you a few lines with a pencil, but could not ; my strength was not sufficient. I will not write long to- day. As I afti writing of myself, I will tell y»u just Jiow I am, and it may make the bur- then of my letter. 1 do not suffer much from acute pain, but a great deal from impeded breath, severe ct)ughing, and extreme weak- ness. They say my face does not change much ; r-- but my voice you would not know. I can hardly speak above a whisper. You see I am really wearing away, slowly, perhaps, but sure- ly. I know your next question will be, ' And how do you feel about it ?' I enjoy myself well, my dear Tante S , and sometimes I think I am happier than ever before. Of course, the thoughts of death bring with them many, very many serious reflections ; but my hops is etill alive. I have the sacraments within my reach and all that the Church o^n THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 231 give me, and what more can I ask ? Though sometimes i wish for other things, I have no reason to complain. Anna is in a room not far from me, and she, I think, is gradually- losing her hold upon life. She seems drooping like a flower, without any apparent suflfering, and she says she hardly knows what is causing her to fail. We enjoy ourselves, I can assure you, the little time they leave us together.- She is in the best of spirits all the time, and has been through all her illness. She says she has bfeen praying for six months for resigna- tion to bear my departure, but now she thinks the prospect is that she shall die first. It is hard to tell. I saw Sister C almost every day while I was in Burlingtv % and ex- pect to see her here on Friday. I was able to go to the convent but twice, and when I did, it was so hard to leave that I had better not have gone. Wednesday Evening — I add a few lines this evening. Since writing the aboVe, Father R has made us quite a long call. It is my twenty-second birthday. . I shall hardly see another. You must pray hard for me, and request the nuns to do the same." I ; 233 THB YOUNG C0NV|BRT8. Again she writes to the same person : Van. I9th, 1860. '^ * I am thftnkfal I cm still write you myself, instead of baTing some one else to do it for me. Yon will e^ense i^ being written with a pencil, I kno^^and ^ glad with me that the letter is my own writing. Yonr letter, with its kind mj^S8^g6% and words of love, has been received apd. reM with the greatest pleasure. ''^ * * Continue, I beg of you, to pray for my p^irseyei^ai^ce, an4 in asking for myself, of cQurse I iQ(?lude> Anniu We continue about the samj3 as wheji I wrot^; you last, some days worse, and others again quite comfortable. Anna, I. think^ will not last long ; her strength fails rapidly. I never saw any one in better spirits.. I spent an hour in her room last evening, and she toljfl me l^Q|fr^ fast, her strength was going, and how ^ort a time she thought die would live, with such a cheerful countenance, that I thought to myself it was no matter how soon she died. I dp not, see so much of Anna ajS I could wish, for se: veral reasons. One, is^ I cannot bear the high temperature at which her room has to be kjB^t,^ and another, the Doctors say there is too mnck THE YOUNd CONVERTS. 233 lympathy between us to make it as well for us to be together ; these, with other reasons, keep us a good deal separate. You speak, my dear Tante, in your letier, of the benefit of sufier- ings when united with those of our Divine Lord. Truly this is one of my greatest con- solations, to know that not one pain or one sigh is lost or forgotten I You know our Di- vine St viour always appeared more lovely to me in His* Passion than elsewhere, and it would be strange now if I were not willing to suffer what He sends me through His love. It is sometimes hard. One is about tempted to wish the pain and anguish away, but again, I find it all pleasant and easy. Last night I was awake nearly the whole night with my cough and fever ; but I enjoyed it as I would enjoy rest. Those nights I often have, are the times when I look over the past^ examine the PRESENT, and look forward to the future / In thinking of the past the mercies of God formed a great part of my thoughts last evening, and to-day the same thought is uppermost in my mind. I do not know that I have ever real- ized 80 fully as now, how great and how numer' m THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 0U8 thoEe mercies have been t If I do not find that they have been too dreadfully misused and abused, this is all I fear ; but again, ' His mercy endureth forever /' * * * We received Holy Communion together yesterday morning, Anna and myself. I never expect to go out^ again ] I thought I should for a while^but the doctor tells me he does not think I will live through the spring months. Tell Sister J- — that I shall hardly see her in May as I prom-, ised, if I were well, but that I hope and pray that the Month devoted^to our sweet Motheo^^ will not pass without seeing her consecrated to her service forever. She must pray for me^ Tell her to ask the Blessed Virgin to.obtaiji for me all the graces I so much need now* Tell ma Tante, Sr. B , that the picture she , shall surely have. I have; loved it much fof^> itself, and much for the g'.ver's sake, and wpuld rather she should have it than another. As for you, my dearest Tante, I do not know «?7ta to send you. Can you not mention something you would like yourself? I am not particu- larly attached to anything I have tiiat I know, of. My crucifix, my books, my rosarieSj,are TBB.rgUl^a GONYERIS' Wi' all J have that you would value. Any of theoit I will send. you. Now my dear Sr. , I must close this ief tor ; may be it is the last I shall ever write to you, perhaps not ; but if it ahotUd be, remember that the lieavt grows tmrnu^r and /oTic^cr as life wanes and wears ^ away ; th^t if ever I have felt a deep affection for you and for all at the Congreg^ktion^ it is noWyAndl will cherish it alway^r Pray for mOr # « 4|)} It was indeed the last letter she oyer wrote , to that dearly beloved friend. Six days later ghpaddressed a little note to the young friend and correspondent in the South part of the State (before alluded to)| to whom she had not written for some inonths. It was her last effort of the kind) and the faUering, unequal characters in her handwriting, (usually as cor- rect, distinct and beautiful in itft execution? under all circumstances^ as any I havo ever Been,) give eyidence of the difficulty with which it was performed,, " St. Albans, Jam 25thi lS5B^-^Dear : Yott maybe )Burprifled, lo jrec^ye a hiW from 286 THE YODXO CONVERTS. me, but I felt that on the strength of our former correspondence, I ought to let you know Bome facts which may surprise you very much, unless you have already heard through some other source. Our dear Anna is just going with quick consumption. We look for her death at any time. She is confined to her bed, and has been to her room, for three months. She is showing in her last days, what the Catholic religion can do, in preparing a soul for what awaits us all. I cannot add good news even here from myself. You may b© more surprised when I tell you, that I tod am confined to my room with the same disease, only that it seems to make slower progress than Anna's has. My cough has been bad since last May, and in October I had an attack of spitting blood, and another in November. I have not been down stairs since New Year's day. It is very hard for me to write, so you must excuse the style, and the short letter. I thought you would like to hear and I have managed to scribble a few lines. I am in the best of spirits, and am only waiting until our ■WM THB TOUNO CONVBRTd. U1 I I dear Lord comes to Utke me away. Pray for us! My love to your sisters. * * Anna sends much love. * * Youp true firiend, Dsbqib." Though Debbie did not sink very rapidly, yet were her sufferings much more severe than is usual in consumption. She had during the remainder of her life frequent paroxysms of agonidng distress. The same week that the foregoing letter was written, I saw the sisters together f(»r the last time. Upon entering iUina's room I expressed my agreeable sur prise, to find them both there ! Debbie ^d she was there by special invitation. "Tes," said Anna, "I announced to her yesterday that if she wottld'be very good she should dine with . me. to^lay ; so this morning I sent my comj^ir ments requesting the pleasure of her company at my house to dinper .'' Just at tluit moment . their mother came in with a servant carrying; the salv^. upon which was their dinner. Drawr > ing the table to the side of Anna's bed,.Debbi&) was.drawa in her chair to it, wjiile;her mother, arranged the THR YOUNQ C0NVRRT8. Bcepe in that sick room, it may be readily im- agined, was most affecting, but nothing went to my heart like the tender earnestness with which that mother urged them to partake of what she had taken so much pains to cook and season, as they " nsed to like it ;" and the ex- pression of disappointed sadness, with which she watched their ineffectual efforts to gratify her by complying with her request. It brought back corresponding experiences of my own, in " the days of the years gone by," so forcibly, that I could hardly keep a cheerful counten- ance. How many mothers will sympathize from their hearts with those emotions ! Anna inquii*ed with affectionate interest after all her young friends whom I knew, and added, " Tell Mary," (who was absent at school,) " that she must write me one of her own cheerful funny letters, such as she always has;" (they had been correspondents for gome time, and the artless originality of Anna's letter had furnished us with much amusement,) " she need not feel as if she must be gloomy and aad because I am soon going away I" " She does not feel so on your account, by any means, my child," I re- ••i^a ^ttMOT THR YOUNG CONVERTS. 989 plied : " her grief, like that of all your friends, is selfish. Wo think of what loe aro to fosc, more than of what you will gain !" She spoke with earnest simplicity of her feelings as death was approaching ; of the plcnsure she antici- pated in meeting her beloved sister, and seemed to have an impression that Helen would bo permitted to conduct her soul "as it loft this world, and to unfold before it the mysteries of another, as she and Uebbie had instructed her here, in those of the Kingdom of Christ upon earth. The suflferings of her last sickness were not very severe, except from daily increasing faintness and difliculty of breathing, when {?he was placed in any position that would seem to be easy. This increased to such a degree that for many days before her departure, it was im- possible for her to breathe with any support whatever aroimd her ; she could not oven per^ mit a hand to be applied to uphold her weary head, but sat perfectly erect, unsupported by pillows or other appliances until exhausted na- tui'O yielded. The only utterance like a com- plaint that ever passed her lips was the faint expression, " I am so tired 1" and then she would I ^i^{ ^<'' ■ M 1^,. f 340 THR YOUNG CONVERTS. sraile sweetly and reprove in herself, what she called her "impatience." On Friday afternoon previous to her death, Debbie was carried into her room for the last time. Their first eager questions of eacli other were to ascertain their mutual feelings, now tl\at death was so near at hand. Having conyersed together more than an hour and as- sured themselves that all was peace in that i^pect, Debbie proposed that they should re- cite their beads together once again, which they did with such a degree of fervor as be- fitted the time and the circumstances, and with the serenity and recollection of spirits linger- ing upon the confines of time, perfectly pre- pared to pass them at any moment into eter- nity. It was one of the most impressive scenes that was ever presented in a chamber of death, and overpowering in its beautiful pathos to all who witnessed it. At the close of the holy exercise, they smilingly and lov- ingly kissed, and parted. As the affectionate "Good byel" was exchanged, Debbie remarked, " We shall meet again so soon, dearest, that we shall hardly know we have separated at all I" ..^ THI YOUNO CONVERTS, 'Ml I I tind was carried back to hor room. A cheeriul, tearless parting between two angelic spirits — the tearful sighs of poor humanity floating ■ unnoticed around them the while t From Sa- \ turday. morning, the tenth of March, at nine o'clock, when a change took place, which she supposed was the final one, until she ceased to breathe, twenty-four hours later, an expression of glowing rapture settled upon Anna's Som, which never left it, and was the most perfect illustration of the idea conveyed in the term " Seraphy* of anything I have ever beheld. The hat change, when it really came, was but momentary, but perfectly understood by her. Casting a parting look of smiling love for a moment upon each person in the room, she bowed her head, and was gone I Not tho slightest struggle, net even the quiver of a muscle betrayed the moment when that pure spirit took its flight! And Anna was with Helen I How we longed to look " beyond tho veil" and witness that meeting! It seemed as if Debbie did see it, for her spirit was too much absorbed in its joys to be shaded by one regret. Though Anna's plans for this world 21 242 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 1 were so arranged as to open every prospect of happiness to her future which her young heart could desire, yet she accepted the call to an- other in the same spirit of joyous resignation with which her sisters received it ; the only cloud that obscured its brightness for a mo- ment being the thought, that the destiny of another would be overshadowed by her early departure. The funeral services were per- ibrmed by the Pastor of St. Albans. Our Right Rev. Bishop went the day before to that place, intending to officiate upon the occa- sion, but was taken very ill the previous night, and was consequently unable to fulfill that in- tention. The last weeks of Debbie's life were at- tended by severe and constantly increasing suffering. She could not lie down at alL or even recline in her chair. Her head was bowed down, (as if to assimilate her entirely to her Divine Master in every circumstance of His Passion and Death, which had so long formed the dearest theme of all her medita- tions and devotions,) and drawn by contrac- tion of the muscles towards the left side, until THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 243 her face could be seen only by kneeling very low at her right side, and looking up into it I Her voice was so entirely gone that her words were uttered in a faint whisper. But those " Angel whisperings," mil they ever be forgot- ten by those who listened to them ? Early in Holy Week it was thought she was dying. At her request the fact was communicated to her beloved Tante, Sr. , now at Montreal. Many messages of love went with it, from her to that " best friend who," to use her own lan- guage, "loved my soul because Jesus Christ died to save it ; who cared for it, prayed for it, before I had learned to care for it myself or appreciate its value." She also sent lov- ing messages to the whole community, request- ing their prayers for the soul of their depart- ing child, and expressing the joy it would have given her to see her dear Tante once again. The Mother Superior immediately tele- graphed to know if it would be any comfort to her to have Sr. come to her? A reply in the affirmative was despatched, and in less than an hour after its receipt, that Sister, ac- companied by another, was on her way to St. w 244 TBI TOlfNO CONYERfS. Albans, to attend the last hours of her darling- child ; a blessing as unexpected by Debbie as it T^as unprecedented, none of the Older bar- ing eyer left the Convent before upon such an errand, their vocatioh being simply to teach. Debbie could not express her gratitude for the favor. It was an unspeakable comfort to her to see her dear Tante, who was entirely overcome to find her child thus, sujSering so much, more than she had expected! Sho Knelt by her side and wept bitterly, while in faint whispers, such expressions as these were breathed into her ear, " Is it possible my own eyes s^ e once again in this world my sweet Tante Sr. ,* mon ange, mon oiseau gris?" (a name she had given her, in the happy days at St. Eustache, because her complexion was Blighi^j frecMedj) and many other terms of endearment, which I cannot now recall, by which it had been her cup >m to address her beloved friend. The Sisters had permission to stay two days, at the close of which, on Good Friday morning, they reluctantly left her, under the strong impression tL>t she would • My Angel ! my Gray-bird I THE YOUNO OONYEBTS. 245 not live through that day. Soon after they left, a singular change, unusual in consumption, took place. Dropsical symptoms supervened, (at the period when under ordinary circum- stances dissolution would have closed her suf- ferings,) attended of course with distressing swelling of tho limbs and body, and causing a partial diversion of the disease from the lungs, which arj-ested its progress there, without re- lieving the suffocating pressure upon them. She lingered thus, in those fearful pangs which usually belong only to the last hour, until her departure on the morning of Easter Mon- day, April ninth, at seven o^cIock. I yas so favored as to be with her from the afternoon of Good Friday, until her dear form was pre- pared for its last resting place. Though her mind wavered slightly at' intervals, yet she was at any time, (save in one instance to be mentioned hereafter,) easily drawn to under- stand clearly to the very last, every circum- stance of her own situation and of every tiling around her. She frequently desired me to read the prayers for the departing, the Litany of the Blessed Virgin, portions of psalms, and 246 THK YOUNO CONVERTS. sucb other devotions from time to time, as her strength would permit her to join in — which she did, in the midst of her agonies, with the most edifying fervor. Not the least interest- ing part of a scene which though harrowing as to its anguish, was still glorious in its tri- umphs, was the course her pure thoughts took, even in their wanderings. She was ever in some holy place, before the altars she loved so well, pouring forth her fervent prayers ; or in the company of the Reverend Clergy, or pious nuns, offering them fruits and refreshments ; sometimes she was busy in preparing clothing for the poor, ministering to their wants, and expressing the deepest love for them and sym- pathy in tlieir sufferings. Her perfect con- formity to the will of God remained serenely firm to her last breath, and she repeatedly called upon us to pray, not that she might have one pain less, not for the slightest dimi- nution of her anguish, but, " 0, for a great deal mare patience I" We could not conceive how more could be added to a patience al- ready SQi perfect 1 She was constantly kissing the crucifix, and breathing utterances of dd- THR YOUNO CONVERTS. 24*7 voted love for her dying Redeemer; calling upon us all to love Him for her, and to draw the love of all hearts to Him, to compensate for the imperfections of her love. She also told us again and again, to be sure not to speak of her when she was gone as a glorified Baint; or as rejoicing with the Just, '' for," said she, " when you speak of me in that way, it is because you do not know my faults, my ex- ceeding sinfvlnesa, and if you allow youi> selves to do it, you will forget to pray for me! I want to entreat you to remember, that I shall need your prayers^ and that if I am so happy as to gain a place in purgatory, it is all I can expect I" She of^ \ said, " Now I know what a blessed thing it is to die a Catholic I I never before realized it as I do now 1 0, why was / so favored as to be made a child cV the Church, when so many who seem so much more. worthy, are left to perish outside of the One Fold whose Shepherd is our great Redeemer i" It would fill pages, were I to re- cord the sweet expressions of gratitude, piety, and resignation, which were constantly falling from her lips, and all with such childlike sim- • f \ . 248 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. plicity and entire absence, most evidently, of any motive save the glory of God, that no one could hear them unmoved. Her physi- ' cian, (whose attendance was most devoted and kind,) though differing from her in reli- gion, was often deeply affected by the beauty of her character, and the spirit in which she endured her almost unprecedented sufferings. On the morning of Easter Sunday, before 'the gas-lights were extinguished in her room, and when the first rays of light began to ap- pear, though they were still so faint that no one in the room had noticed them, (her chair being so placed that she faced the East,) she whispered to me, " It is the dawn of the day on the morning of the Resurrection!" then smiling sweetly she added, " The women were very early at the Sepulchre, but the men were not there, and the women were the first to be- lieve in His Resurrection 1" At seven o'clock that morning we thought she was going, the family were called in, and she took an affec- tionate leave of each one. She then requested me to say " We fly to thy patronage" etc. and the Litany of the Blessed Virgin, which I I THB TOUNO COmrBKTS. 249 did, feeling that it was the'last time that her pure spirit would be united with ours in pious supplications this side of etern'ty. She joined with great fervor ; and although we united in prayers for her several times after that, when she was conscious that we were doing so, she was too mu'^h exhausted to join us outwardly. She hoped to depart on Easter Sunday, and we had repeatedly assured L ^r that we thought she would be permitted to, but the hours passed on, and she was still lingering in the very embrace of death. Late in the evening she looked at mo, while such a mournful shade flitted over her dear features as I can never forget, and sobbed in shuddering agony raf her than uttered in words, " It seems as if our dear Lord loves to see me suflfer with Him I" and at the samt3 moment the shade vanished, and a rapturous smile glowed upon her coun- tenance, as she kissed the crucifix, ever in her hand, and breathed, ^ Blessed forever be His holy will!" I exhorted her to oflfer every pain she endured, in union with the sufferings of her Redeener, to procure the conversioii of those for whom she, and her sweet sisters, had 260 THE YOUKG C0KVERT8. been praying bo long. She replied eagerly, " I do, all the time ; I am ofifering them, and I am willing to suflfer everytldng^ 1 1 can only gain that treasure for them 1" Her mother had remained with unflinching fortitude and constancy by her side through all those weary days! By night and by day had her gen- tle ministrations been exercised with untiring firmness, and while the cheerful patience, the resignation, and piety of the daughter, were ttiatters of wonder to her as to all who wit- nessed them, the calm endurance of that mo- ther unr'icr all the crushing sorrows of the scene, was a still greater surprise to me. I expressed it to her, and she said, " My daugh- ters have jyrepared me for it ; they have forti- fied me by their counsels, and have obtained support for me by their prayers I" adding that she was surprised at herself, when she thought how impossible it would once have been for her, even to have contemplated without entire dismay, the scenes through which she was now passing so calmly. Debbie could not bear to have her out of her sight ; though she was fear- ful lest her health might suffer from such con- THE YOUiVO CONVERTS. 251 fitant attendance, yet her presence was a com- fort she needed so much, that she could not bring herself to dispense with it. The last night, however, she noticed that her mother was much exhausted, and insisted that she should go to her own room and take some rest, quieting her fears about leaving her with ten- der assurances that she should be very com- fortable and would send for her if she was not. She then made her own arrangements as to the attendants who should remain in her room, two tender and faithful Catholic nurses, one of whom had been with the sisters through the winter, and the other for some weeks ; while her father and myself remained just outside the door of her apartment to be ready at any moment if needed. She made every effort to be quiet and contented, but exhausted nature wavered when the arm of the mother was withdrawn, and her mind became for the first time so completely bewildered that we could not soothe or pacify her. The presence of her mother again seemed to compose her at once. Those who were present will each remember, I am sure, to their dying day, the expression ''f \ t 262 THR TOVNO COMVEBTS. of her countenance when her mother re-ap- peared, and the loving epithets with which she addressed her ! I never saw any manifes' tations more touching and affectionate than those she constantly showed for her parents. She had often assured me when she was in health, that the only reed and bitter trial of her life as a Catholic, had been, that her con- victions of. duty required her so to act as to give her parents pain. About twenty minutes before she ceased to breathe she desired to be laid on the bed quickly, which was done. Just after she was there she was wrung with a sharp agony, and the crucifix slipped from her hand at the same time thai; we thought she had breathed her last, but the next moment she gasped for breath, and threw out her right hand as if seeking for something. The Crucifix was placed in it, and her last effort was to clasp it to her heart, and I heard her utter the names Jesus I Mary 1 Joseph ! with that last breath which followed the effort. There were six Catholics kneeling at the foot of her bed and praying for her. For some minutes after she ceased to breathe THB YOUNG CONVERTS. 263 I I the silence was so deep in that apartment of death, that we dared not disturb it even with our sobbings — the indulgence of even the most sacred emotions of poor humanity seemed to us like irreyerence in such a presence! At length the heart-stricken mother jaid gently and calmly, with uplifted eyes, "Another trea- sure gone before I Her last words t.* me w e, ' Mother, you muat be submissive !' and I will try to be ; but how can I live without my daughters /" For the rest of ua, we felt th, t v a had accompanied a youthful saint to the Gates of Paradise, and that glimpses of that " prom- ised land" had been revealed to us through the opened portals, as she passed them to her rest I May we ever remember those glimpses t Four weeks and one day after Anna's depar- ture, Debbie also withdrew to j^ i". the two sis- ters whose souls she had first led to consider the things which pertained to their salvation and peace, and the three now sleep side by side in the village cemetery. Requiem sBteraam dona eia Domine ! Et lux perpetua luceat eis ! The Bishop of Burlington performed tlio Da \ » 254 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. funeral ser\ Ices at the church, and delivered a most affecting and appropriate discourse, em- bodying many of the details, which I have en- deavored, though with imperfect success, to record. The Pastor of Fairfield officiated at the grave, and consigned the mortal remains of his spiritual child, "Ashes unto ashes, dust unto dust I" in the hope of a glorious resurrec- tion. To him I am touch indebted for encour- agement and aid in the prosecution of my task. Speaking of which, in a letter to me, he says, " I need not assure you that it gave me the greatest satisfaction to know that you were writing a sketch of the edifying lives of my children, (I love to call them such,) for I was their confidential friend besides being their confessor and guide, according to the little light which it has pleased God to give me. * * The dates of their baptism I suppose you ha/e. * * * For the rest, I do not think the task will be a hard one to write their lives, with the assistance conveyed through the spirit which pervades their simple and sincere writ- ings ; the last one especially. Do not fear to say that her heart was the very sanctuary of ; ". ,) THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 255 I purity and innocence 1 Above all, write my testimony as to her love for our Divine Lord in His adorable Sacrament. There was scarcely a day that she did not spend an hour in our lowly church, all alone save the presence of the Saviour she loved so much, and the blessed Angels who continually minister unto Him in His holy sanctuary. And the edification with wl^ch her presence inspired our young people especially, in her reception of the sacraments, will, I trust, never be forgotten. So full of faith, of recollection was my poor child. I know her fervent prayers will be offered to our Divine Lord and His Blessed Mother for your good intentions in writing those pious re- flfictions upon her life, for I am certain it will be II source of much good for our young peo- ple. Not that poor Debbie dreamed that her virtues should thus be recorded. No 1 for her it is sufficient that they are recorded by her loved Saviour Himself in the Book of Eternal Life. Besides her love to the Blessed Sacra- ment, her next pre-eminent virtue was charity towards others. I have never known her guilty, even once, of injuring in the least the character 266 TBS TOUNO CONVERTS. of another. Do not think I exaggerate^ Who should know those sisters if I did not, who was their director and correspondent ever since their baptism. May God bless your work, and may it be the fruitful means of leading many another pure soul to Heaven I'' Debbie^s be- loved " Tante," S , also writes to me, " I forget if I told you what our sweet Debbie said the day she gave, me a Souvenir. ' My own Tante, S , you have the first choice of everything I have ; you have been my best friend. Yes, indeed, so if there is anything that belongs to me which can please you, be sure you shall have itf 1 answered, I did not care for anything in particular, but I would cherish anything she liked ike most. She smiled and said, ' Ma Tante, you should know that I am not attached to anything on earth ; but what I value most is my ' Following of r^hrist,' for that dear little book has been a source of g^eat consolation to me in my Utth tricds, I know you would like to have a cross that belonged to your child ; well, the one I value most is this,' giving me the cross you saw ; ' now ma Tante, if these things plea3e THE TOUNO CONVERTS. 26t f i you, you must take them and anything else you would like to have.' I told her I was satisfied with these souvenirs. I relate this, that you may know how far she carried her detachment of all earthly affections ; this virtue is admira- ble in one so young. The dear child ! I have the picture of her virtues constantly before my mind. You know she never had a secret from me ; her heart was opened to me as a book in which I could read all her life and character." In delineating the dispositions and habits of these sisters, it is interesting to note their sin- gular diversity, while upon every phase of that diversity even, young as they were, the seal of peculiarities which mark the descendants of the Puritans was set with vivid distinctness. We may especially note in them the firmness, the free and independent tone of thought and action, which distinguish that part of the race in our own Vermont, which has emerged from the bondage of the strait-laced whims of their ancestors. It should open the eyes of tliose who have given credence to the false assertion that the Catholic religion enslaves the intellect, to see that it is among characters of this stamp, 358 THE TOUNO CONYSim. both old and young, that the conqnests of the Church are achieved, and her choicest trea- sures gathered I It is Protestaniism that faa- tens the iron fetters of human opinion upon its subjects, instead of the law of God, and under this cruel bondage they are held (and forced to hold themselves,) responsible for their opinions and actions to their miserable fellow-worms rather than to their Maker. If any one doubts it, let him presume so far upon his right to act for himself, as to leave their ranks and join those of the Catholic Church. He will soon find what liberty of (xmsdence means, under their interpretation. It may bo thought that I have presented the religious life and experiences of the sisters, and the closing scenes of each, together with their expressions of pious sentiments, ^too well exemplified in their lives and deaths to be suspected of being mere sentiments,) with too much minuteness. I have just been reading the Memoirs of a celebrated lady in fashionable luC; and I find in her much admirod letters, fiir mora copious and minute descriptions of worldly assemblies ; of the splendor of drawing-rooms, the glitter IHB YOVxVO C0NVERT8. 259 i I of courts, magnificent dresses, jewels, and eqoi- pages of royalty and its attendants, than are given in these extracts from the letters of our beloved young friends of the assemblies of the just, the joys of devotion, and the " priceless pearls'' of Heaven, that shine for another purpose here ; resplendent ornaments of the Spouse of Christ, which, unlike those of this world, shall glow with ever-increasing lustre in those heavenly courts, of which the grea+^st pomp and glory of earthly palaces, can furnish but the most remote conception! Shall the " children of this world" be listened to with in- terest while they expatiate upon the things per- taining to " their generation," and the " chil- dren of light" be heard with listless indiffer- ence and fatigue while dwelling upon those pertaining to theirs? Heaven forbid 1 We know that the former class will d*;cm tlie zeal of our beloved ones misguided. Their devo- tion will be called fanaticism ; their faith su- perstition ; their religion a delusion, and their t^ttention to the great concerns of Eternity :£ unneccessary occupation of time. The Com- piler of these Memoirs has many acquaintances Kmrnvrm^. 960 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. \Xx-r. among those who live for thie ivo'ii only ; who regard all attention (I mean such attP!!- tion as thoy give to raatt rs wliich really in- terest them,) to the f iTairs of another as use- less ; and who, whatever their outward profeg- eion in the various Piotesiani premises may- be, an \ whatever their inmo st iliougbts o« ;.iie matter really are, live as if they did not believe in tlvj c'Msiimce of another. Yet I have never hofj'd their ardent zeal in conforming to the prevailing fashions called misguided ; their anxious provision for splendid iiouses, furni- ture, and equipages, their twistings and turn- ings, (in many instances,) to make limited means reach the elegancies and luxuries which only large incomes should be expected to fur- nish, denounced as fanaticism ; or their devoted attendance upon all the modern methods of "killing time" and displaying expensive finery, charactej-ized as a waste of time or money, by those who set so high an estimate upon the former as to tremble, lest some of its precious hours should be bestowed upon vf^JIgious ob- servanceg, and suffer great anx.v lest gome smal' ^mas of the latter cUm be diverted THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 261 I I from " painting butterflies' wings," to clothing and feeding orphans. Alas I alas! If these disciples of the world should find hereafter that they have made a fatal mistake I — if it should appear that their opinions did not over- rule the decrees of Omnipotence, did not even alter them one iota! — that God, by His re- vealed will did require of theip the perform- ance of duties which they have neglected — that they have been greater enthusiasts than those whom they condemn, but in a wrong direction, offensive to God — that in their horror of super- stition or believing too much, they have really rejected truths, their reception of which He has affixed as an indispensable condition to their eternal salvation — will their "Lord, Lord" avail them then? Will their even "prophe- sying" in His name, and in His name " doing many wonderful works," atone for their re- bellion against His authority and its require- ments ? Certainly not 1 Even if they should -■^^ isr'7coryiy believe more than is absolutely re- quired, Tould it harm them ? If by believing too little, salvati«L d is endangerod, are not such as these of whom I have been writing, at least, .jr ^ T' 262 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. on the safe side ? I " Tcnoio whereof I aflBrm," when I exclaim " Oh ! blest are they who live, and die, like these !" My task is almost done 1 I sincerely wish it better done 1 I have lingered lovingly over it— " With only such degree of sadness left, As might support longings of pure desire ; And strengthen love rejoicing secretly In the sublime attractions of the Grave !" 1 have felt while dwelling upon the singular history of these our precious sisters in the Faith, that it was indeed " good Tor me" to be so occupied 1 I have realized the truth uttered by the wisest of men, that it is " better to go to the house of mourning, than to go to the house of feasting." I trust I shall carry with me through the grave and into Eternity, the treasures I have gathered in the prosecution of this work. May the perusal of these simple Memoirs produce a corresponding effect upon the minds of my young friends. Should any one among them, when sinking under opposi- tion and contempt, or when tempted by ridi- cule, to be ashamed of their rfcisgion and its THB VOUNO CONVERTa. 263 practices, be encouraged by the examples hero recorded to return to their first allegiance, and be awakened to renewed zeal and firmness in the confession of the holy Catholic faith in the midst of its enemies, I ^ihould feel my humble efforts amply rewarded. It has indeed been a labor of love^ as well as of blessed obedience, for me, and watered with abundant tears! Truly happy shall I be, if I have been enabled so to perform the behest of our beloved and respected Bishop, as to claim tho promise that " they:,*ir!m>i)w: JDi/ieis "ffiAlt y^'in joy," and "VetWhingjoy Hy bring my'shea^os with me" 1» ij¥^541fa£3»9f*j^€?J}Qrd'^T*:Hq£te, ir 1* m abundant fruits produced by it among our young people to ^he honor and glory of His Holy Name ! -