and the ceremonies are not so
sad as at Easter. In entering upon this religious phase of their life,
it is their custom to retire to a convent, and pass a week in prayer and
reciting the offices of the Church. During this period, no friend, not
even their parents, are allowed to visit them, and information as to
their health and condition is very reluctantly and sparingly given at
the door. In case of illness, the physician of the convent is called;
and even then neither parent is allowed to see them, except, perhaps, in
very severe cases. Of course, during their stay in the convent, every
exertion is made by the sisters to render a monastic life agreeable, and
to stimulate the religious sensibilities of the young communicant. The
pleasures of society and the world are decried, and the charms of
peace, devotion, and spiritual exercises eulogized, until the excited
imagination of the communicant leaves her no rest, before she has
returned to the convent and taken the veil as a nun. The happiness of
families is thus sometimes destroyed; and I knew one very united and
pleasant Roman family which in this way was sadly broken up. Two of
three sisters were so worked upon at their first communion, that the
prayers of family and friends proved unavailing to retain them in their
home. The more they were urged to remain, the more they desired to go,
and the parents, brothers, and remaining sister were forced to yield a
most reluctant consent. They retired into the convent and became nuns.
It was almost as if they had died. From that time forward, the home
was no longer a home. I saw them when they took the veil, and a sadder
spectacle was not easily to be seen. The girls were happy, but the
parents and family wretched, and the parting was very tearful and sad.
They do not seem since to have regretted the step they then took;
but regret would be unavailing--and even if they felt it, they could
scarcely show it. The occupation of the sisters in the monastery they
have joined is prayers, the offices of the Church, and, I believe, a
little instruction of poor children. But gossip among themselves, of the
pettiest kind, must make up for the want of wider worldly interests. In
such limited relations, little jealousies engender great hypocrisies;
a restricted horizon enlarges small objects. The repressed heart and
introverted mind, deprived of their natural scope, consume themselves in
self-consciousness, and duties easily degenerate into