INTRODUCTION.

ABRIDGED FROM THE ORIGINAL.

IN the following narrative, the world will have a fair specimen of popery reduced to practice.

The authoress was a poor heart-broken widow, who, by the death of her husband, was left destitute, and far from her home, among strangers. Floating about, like a wreck on the stormy sea of life, the adversity of fortune drove her to the island of Cuba. She landed at Havanna, the capital of that island, and there fell into the hands, not of those pirates whose depredations are confined to the highway ocean, but into the hands of those spiritual pirates who, under the cloak of religion, prowl, like the midnight wolf, to seize and satiate their appetites upon the poor wandering sheep who happen to fall into their way.

Hardly had her foot touched the shore, before one of these prowling wolves in sheep's clothing scented her out. He was one of the reverend fathers; honoured, revered, and worshipped by his people, whose vices he canonized, and upon whose credulity he lived. Disguised as a citizen, with the baldness of his head, shorn according to the discipline of his church, concealed and covered with a wig, he pays his addresses to the unfortunate stranger, gains her affections, conducts her to his house, and constitutes her, at once, mistress of his domestic concerns. Had she known that the fond lover was a popish priest, never would she have yielded, as she declares, to his solicitations. She knew it not, until she was his prisoner, and then the door of escape was closed.

With this fiend in human shape (for such the sequel of this volume will clearly prove him to have been), this forlorn and unfortunate woman lived five years.

Being mistress of his house and the queen of his heart, all the domestic concerns were under her controul. He poured out into her bosom the feelings that flowed through his polluted heart, and imparted to her, not only his own secrets, but those that were intrusted to him under the seal of confession. She knew every thing; and she tells us what she knows. She was the witness of his character under all the various shapes which it assumed at home, under the exterior of a priest; abroad, under that of a citizen. She was his companion at the ball room, the masque

rades, the gambling-tables, and the tea-partics. She accompanied him in the promenades; rode with him in his nightly excursions for dissipation; was introduced by him to his fellow priests, who were as profligate as himself, and was conducted, dressed as a monk, into the sacred (!) recesses of the convents. In fine, he introduced her into all the scenes of dissipation and vice in which he was accustomed to be found. Even when he was sent by his bishop abroad, on a parochial visit to Puerto Principe, even thither she had to go to gratify his inclinations, and to witness his atrocities. Here, poor Rosamond, for this is the name of the authoress, poor Rosamond here saw what no one but a fiend would ever have thought of perpetrating, and what none but a beast would have had the immodesty to do. This was the seduction of the daughter of his friend, a girl, or child in fact, of but fourteen years of age.

The narrative is the unadorned effusions of a soul that has been beguiled by priestly solicitations; kept in captivity during five years; deluded,-lost,-bewildered,-and undone by priestcraft.

She represents, not the licentiousness of a single priest, but the general depravity of a whole country. She presents us with the picture of popery as it exists in Cuba; and the same, we have no reason to doubt, extends through all the West India islands that are under the priestly control of Rome. Many of the important statements that she makes, are confirmed by testimony that cannot be rejected.

In regard to the truth of the statements contained in this narrative, we can say we have not the least doubt. We are personally acquainted with the authoress, and we hesitate not to express our opinion that she is a sincere convert and a devout Christian. She appears before the public with the best of recommendations and we pray that her life may be spared; and that she may long continue to be a bright and shining light, and an ornament to the church of which she is a member.

We can say that no pecuniary inducement led to the writing of this work. She was actuated by no other motive than the love of God, and the good of the world.

Her health is now so delicate and weak, that death seems already to have marked her as his own. She is wasting away under a complaint that seems bent on carrying her to the grave. She rejoices, however, at the prospect that lies before her; and feels willing to appear before her judge. Her path of life has been strewed with thorns; her days have been few and full of evil; or, rather, it may well be said, one continual night has spread its mantle over almost all her life.

Under all these circmstances, who can doubt the truth of what she has disclosed?

One of the most incredible of all her relations, is confirmed by the testimony of Dr. Ethan A. Ward of this city, a gentleman highly esteemed as a physician, and for the integrity of his moral

character. This gentleman was in Havanna, and saw the wretches executed for the atrocious crime of stealing young negroes, for the purpose of cutting them up, and making them into sausages.

The doctor returned to New York about two years before the escape of Rosamond, and had frequently mentioned the fact of the men's being executed for the above mentioned deed, even before such a person as Rosamond's being in Havanna was known in this city; and Rosamond, the authoress of this narrative, related the fact to her friends in this city, previous to her acquaintance with Dr. Ward, and without knowing that any one here had been informed of it.

Every circumstance taken into consideration, the truth of this narrative cannot be doubted. The authoress is a sincere, humble, and pious convert, declining in health, and, apparently, sinking into the grave. She appears to have a well-grounded hope beyond the declining shadow of the present life. She looks upon death, not as a king of terrors, but as a friend. She speaks of the world as if it were a mere transitory dream. She remembers what she has suffered; is conscious that it is to God alone she owes her deliverance; and she longs to be with her deliverer. She seems to feel, and to know with St. Paul," that if her earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, she has a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens."

The testimonials of her character, which are given by her pastor, the Rev. N. E. Johnson, and by others, we think, are sufficiently recommendatory to remove any doubt that might arise in the public mind relative to the sincerity and veracity of the

authoress.

Two of the most incredible facts related in the narrative, have been proved by the testimony of others,-by testimony too, that can be substantiated beyond a doubt. I allude to the negro sausages and the purgatory room.

The substance of all the facts which she relates, is also confirmed in the notes, by authority which papists, at least, cannot dispute ; that is, by the authority of their own councils, popes, saints, and historians.

S. B. S.

ROSAMOND CULBERTSON,

CHAPTER I.

I HAVE had a great desire, for some time past, to let the world know of a poor wanderer, who has been living, for the last fifteen years, in the southern countries, in Mississippi, Missouri, New Orleans, and Kentucky; and for the five years from 1828 to 1833 on the island of Cuba. On the 28th of July, 1833, through the mercies of the Lord, I was brought again to this Christian country; and when I look back on the last fourteen years, and on how many thousands and thousands of individuals I have seen who are led and kept in darkness, as to seeking the salvation of their poor immortal souls, by the Roman Catholic priests, my heart aches within me, and I feel it my duty to give to the world what I know about them.

O! I pray that may not dictate my pen!-that I may be guided in all I write by the help of the Lord, believing what I write here will also be written in heaven.

I was born in Lebanon, in the sate of New Hampshire, in the year 1803. My father removed to Charlestown, on Connecticut river, earlier in life than I can recollect.

I am at a loss how to bring my past life to view. Since I was eight years old I have been, as I may term it, a wandering traveller. My father was a farmer in good circumstances. My parents were good and kind to all their children, who were eight in number, six sisters and two brothers. We were all brought up with as good opportunities for education as that country afforded.

Being a troublesome child at home, I was sent to live with my eldest sister at Concord, Vermont. I continued to be so mischievous and froward that my sister was glad to get rid of me, and I was sent about, first to one, and then to another of the family, still remaining headstrong and unmindful of advice. My attention was fixed more upon

B

dress and amusements than it was either upon work or upon my book.

Some time after this I was sent with my youngest sister to a school at Windsor, Vermont. We were placed under the care of a family by the name of I. P. They kept a boarding-house for married and single ladies, and gentlemen. At this house there were several officers of the United States' army, who were recruiting or enlisting soldiers for the public service. My affections here were soon won by an officer who was boarding in the same house with us. He was a lieutenant, and being a gay and fashionable person, he soon gained my affections. His attentions to me were noticed by the family, whose protection I was under. Mrs. P. would sometimes tell me it was not prudent to be so intimate with him, and that she knew my mother would not approve of it. This, however, only seemed to increase my affection.

Some time after this I returned home to my parents in Charlestown. Lieut. C―― soon followed me; and although my father and mother were entirely opposed to his visiting me, he succeeded in introducing himself into the house. My father was an old revolutionary soldier, and was fond of talking about war affairs. Lieut. C had been in the battle of Bridgewater, and was wounded there. This was a good deal in his favour in respect to my father, who now seemed to take a delight in conversing with him. The next day Lieut. C wrote a letter to my father, asking his consent for our marriage, but he remained as much opposed to it as ever.

During Lieut. C's stay at this place, which was but a few days, as he was going to be stationed at Boston, he wrote me several letters full of professions of his love. I answered his letters, and consented to marry him. All this was done without the knowledge or consent of my parents

We then took a private opportunity of passing over into the state of Vermont, just on the opposite side of the Connecticut river; this was in the month of December, 1818, and were married by Squire M

Lieut. C's time being now expired, he had to proceed on to Boston. We sat out together, and I left home without bidding my dear parents farewell, because they would not be reconciled to us, or forgive us.

O! how well do I remember what were my feelings at