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The indignant and wrathful father went to the nunnery to claim his child. He could not see her, nor could she be given up. He then went to the bishop, where he again met with a refusal; and it was only after he informed the holy father that his child, if so devoted, would become a burden on the convent, as he would never give her a cent, lest she should bestow it on them, that they unloosed their covetous grasp, and suffered her to return to the parental home.
It is very true that many, on discovering the treachery, untruthfulness, and despotism of Popery, flee from it, to fall untaught into the power of infidelity, not so superstitious, but quite as unenlightened and as bold in evil as that system from which they have escaped. Surely no true Protestant can rejoice in such falling away as this. As politicians, both parties must be equally unsound, and unfit to bear influence in the affairs of a Christian nation. If the infidel votes for misrule, and the Papist for the dominion of Popery, they are more likely to coalesce with each other to gain their object, than with any other party in the State. The Roman Catholic archbishop is understood to wield complete authority over the disposal of every Popish vote in the city; and in New York, if I was rightly informed, the influence of Popery, not only in the municipal government, but in the returns to the Legislature and Congress, is, for the present, in the ascendant. It is so by Papists going with the party
that promises most to favour them. Popery acts by no fixed rule. Its principles, its motives, and its acts alike shun the daylight of truth—and hence its power, and the danger arising from it. Its power works not only in the vicinity of the ballot-box, but in the sacred sanctuary of the homes and nurseries of the cities; and every note of caution on the subject, however feeble, ought to be deemed friendly.
The same method of hearing where servants are to be found is used in the United States as with us. What is here called a register, is there called an intelligence office. But in either case, it is not persons of the highest character that need to enter their names in such lists. The numerous strangers who are driven to extremities before they find situations, adopt methods of seeking them which are startling and new to visitors in the country. I have been repeatedly stopped in the streets of New York with the question, “Do you want any help ?" followed up with,“ Well, then, do you know any family that does ?” And on one occasion the charm of a lovely sunset drive amid the elegant villas, and shady trees, and glancing waters of Staten Island, was destroyed for me by the address of a nice-looking young woman on that subject. She rushed out of the gate of a handsome house, almost under our horses' feet, and obtested us with all the eloquence of an Irish tongue, to stop, to listen, and to procure her a place. “She had been five days off the ocean. She had been advised to come to this island, because it was full of respectable families. She had gone from house to house for two days. No one wanted her—no one cared for her. Och hone! she was homeless she was penniless-she was friendless. What could she do ?” She wrung her despairing hands, and her tears streamed down unwiped. We told her of intelligence offices—feeling that they were but poor helps. We spoke to her of hope—of asking help of the God who had brought her safely across the sea—and gave her what would secure her a few nights' lodging, but left her where we met her, weeping on the road. If the poor stranger had had courage to leave the thronged vicinity of the city, she would doubtless soon and gladly have been engaged on a farm. Yet one does not wonder that the heart of a female should faint and shrink from such an effort. She is tempted to remain in the crowd by the likelihood of forming an engagement, and she likes to be in the midst of her own countrypeople.
It is not only within the range of emigrant ships that this out-of-doors and from-house-to-house method of seeking places is followed. In the pretty town of Springfield, Massachusetts, a very respectablelooking middle-aged person addressed to me the same inquiry. Being desirous of knowing if really good servants adopt such a method, I inquired what place she desired to occupy. She replied, that she had
acted as cook and as laundress in some of the best houses in the neighbourhood.
The influx of people, which is a perpetual stream, must speedily lessen the difficulty of procuring, and also of managing, “ helps.”
Nothing in America comes over one's feelings as 80 unlike home, as the manner in which everything is conducted relating to the burial of the dead.
On our landing we heard that the earth was that day to receive all that remained of a venerable and excellent lady, to see whom was one of the daydreams indulged in when preparing to cross the ocean. She had been born in a house which for many years was my happy dwelling. A degree of almost romantic sympathy had existed between us, fostered by messages and pictures of her early home, so that the news that I should not see her inflicted a real disappointment.
The next best thing was to honour her memory by waiting on the last obsequies.
So much are we the children of habit, that the sight of a polished mahogany receptacle shrunk me, as if there were an absence of reverence or of sorrow in parting with her, betrayed in the very colour of her coffin. It is true I had seen a coloured