will forget both it and the Catholic church. And in the Protestant church there is next to nothing which is good for any thing.”
“But Edith,” I replied, “where was it that you were first instructed about Christ and his doctrine? Was not that in the Protestant church?”
“Oh yes, certainly about him,” she answered, “but—”
And the poor girl had not an idea that that was a principal thing.
The weather is beautiful, and after four-and-twenty
hours of violent showers the sky is again brilliant,
the trees put forth their leaves, and the birds sing.
This Convent, which stands high, has a large garden
with shadowy paths, between hedges of laurel and
box. Here I like to walk, to watch the monthly roses
coming out, the double anemones in flower; the peas
in pod, and in the evening the sun set behind the hilly
horizon beyond the fossil-like Rome. The air is
pleasant, and every thing would be good, according to
my feelings, if I could only be at peace from the
perpetual work of conversion, most especially as carried
on by my tall, zealous nun. I am tired of it, and
shall soon take my leave of this retraite, to which I
am, however, glad and thankful that I came; for
have here become better acquainted with that which
is best in the Catholic doctrines, and—with that which
is the worst—and better also with the future of my
own church. But I confess that I am glad to leave
this Convent, where I cannot obtain any thing more
for my spirit, and where I cannot breathe freely,
neither fulfill my especial vocation.
