and seated himself in front of the high altar. He was robed in silver tissue, brocaded with gold.

In a few moments the destined bride of Jesus Christ entered. She was led into the chapel and along the aisle by the Princess Borghese. They knelt for a few moments at the side altar, and then the princess conducted her to the cardinal vicar. They both knelt to him, and as the candidate bent her head, her long, rich tresses of chestnut-coloured hair fell like a veil around her, and gave her a peculiar interest. He then blessed a crucifix, and presented it to the kneeling novice. The carrying of this crucifix is invariable in the order of St. Theresa. I could not catch the words that passed, though I was not four yards distant from the parties. They rose and retired to seats prepared for them at the right of the cardinal vicar. This destined recluse, or bride of Jesus Christ, was dressed specially for the occasion. Her dress was white satin, richly damasked in gold. Her head was adorned with a diadem of diamonds, beneath which fell a profusion of luxuriant curls of chestnut-coloured hair. Her neck was covered with precious stones, that flashed through the many ringlets that fell among them. Her breast was gemmed with brilliants set off by black velvet, so that she sparkled and blazed in all the magnificence of the jewels of the Borghese family, said to be among the most costly and splendid in Italy. There was a profusion of the most valuable lace, and a long and light train of gauze elegantly trimmed. This was borne by one of those beings

of whom it is said that their visits are "few and far between." It was an angel, or, rarer still, a seraph. It had the appearance of a little girl of eight years of age, a pretty, gentle thing, that seemed frightened at such close contact with sinful mortals. It had a wreath of no earth-born, but finger-made flowers upon its head. It had a short, a very short, dress of pale blue silk, to show it was some creature of the skies. Its arms and its neck and its legs were covered not as in mortals with skin, but with a silken texture that was coloured like flesh; and to place its heavenly nature beyond doubt, it had two wings, regular feather wings, projecting from the shoulders, and very airily trimmed with swan's-down. There could be no doubt that if not an infant angel, it was a real sylph or seraph descended from the skies to wait on the destined bride of Jesus Christ.

After some moments the reverend confessor, attired in his monkish dress, approached, kissed the hand of the cardinal vicar, and seated himself within the chancel. He then proceeded to deliver an address or sermon to the destined novice. It dwelt at length and with great justice on the vanities of the world, its temptations, its snares, its dangers, and its sins. It then dwelt on the value, the safety, and the happiness, of a religious life. The sermon was well and effectively delivered, and would have been faultless, only that it identified a religious life with a cloistered life; and argued throughout as if no woman could be religious outside the walls of a nunnery-as if in the

world there was no protection from the sins of the world, and as if the life of religion could only be found in the life of a nunnery.

At the conclusion of this address, some words passed between the cardinal vicar and the destined novice. I could not catch their purport, as all was in an under tone, and did not seem to accord with the forms of the pontifical which I held in my hand. It appeared to me as if he was asking her wishes. At all events he soon rose and conducted her out of the church. There was the cardinal in all his robes, his mitre on his brow, holding the shepherd's crook or crosier in his hand. On he moved down the aisle with the damsel in silk and gold, tiara of diamonds, and cincture of gems. On she moved with her little angel to bear her train, and the young Princess Borghese to bear her company. On they moved with attendants down the chapel, and entering the monastery disappeared from view.

We remained for some moments in suspense. Many doubted if we should ever see again this supposed bride of heaven or her attendant seraph. At length a curtain was raised at the side of the altar and revealed an interior chapel. It was separated from that in which we were assembled by a strong grating of iron. Soon were heard the voices of the whole sisterhood. They were chanting some litany, and their voices were first heard coming from some distant gallery. It was faint and feeble, but sweetened by distance. It slowly swelled louder and clearer as the sisterhood approached in slow

and solemn procession, and recalled to my mind what had so often in the days of romantic youth filled my imagination in reading of the chants and the processions of nuns in the romances of other days. The effect at the moment was very pleasing. The chant feeble and distant at first, and then becoming louder and clearer, and all who so chanted approaching slowly, and all the associations that gathered and crowded on my mind, gave a charm to the moment that I shall long remember. The chant ceased, and from my position I could see the nuns, about sixteen in number, with three or four novices, enter the interior chapel and move slowly and solemnly around it, all taking their station in two lines at right angles with the iron grating. The two lines faced each other. Each nun bore a large lighted candle in one hand, and a book in the other. They were dressed in blue over white serge. The nuns had a black shawl or napkin of black serge thrown over the head. The novices had a similar thing of white serge, but of the colour of white flannel. Their faces were not visible, as those cloths, which are most unromantic things, though most romantically called veils, while they might more suitably be called shawls, hung down so as to hide the side face, while the front face, which was open and unveiled, was bent down on their books. In this position they stood and read some office or service, in which the lines of nuns took alternate parts. They were motionless as statues, and might have passed for such if their

F 2

voices had not proved them living. While this was transacting in the interior chapel, the cardinal vicar again entered our outer chapel and proceeded to the iron grating. Some questions passed between him and the abbess, also between him and the future nun; all the attendants and officers of the cardinal and priests gathering round the grating as if to prevent our seeing anything. They affected to be very anxious to see for themselves, but on this, as on all similar occasions, they endeavoured to make everything mysterious by concealment. I was resolved, however, that I would not be disappointed; and I found them sufficiently courteous not to prevent me looking over the shoulder of a priest. The destined nun was on her knees inside the grating. The Princess Borghese was beside her, directing her maid to take off her tiara and other jewels; no other hands, not even the hands of the nuns, were allowed to touch a diamond; they were the jewels of the Borghese family, and the princess and her maid watched every stone till they were all carefully removed by their own hands and deposited safely from any light fingers that might possibly be present, even in the sacred interior of a monastery of nuns! At last every diamond was gone, and then the hair, the beautiful hair, with its luxuriant tresses, its long wreathy ringlets of rich and shining chestnut, was to be cut off. It was the loveliest charm she possessed, and in parting with the world, its pleasures and its sorrows together, she was to part with that which of all else had attracted the

admiration of men; she meekly bowed her head to her sad destiny. Lo! they touched it, and it was gone! as if by a miracle it was gone! Alas! that my pen must write the truthit was a WIG! Much of my romance had already fled when I saw the Princess Borghese watch with so suspicious an eye the jewels, as if they were in danger, even among the nuns; and that suspiciousness in one who must have known them well, seemed indeed strange; but now all ideas of romance were annihilated, as by the touch of a magic wand, at the sight of the wig. I do not know why a wig should have excited so much of the ludicrous; but on so romantic a person as a novice, and on so romantic an occasion as taking the white veil, I could not resist a laugh at the wig.

The cardinal was to give the tonsure by cutting off a lock of her hair, to sprinkle holy water on her, to anoint her, &c.; but I could not see this part of the ceremony, and then as they were about to strip off her fine silk, satins, lace, &c., they very properly dropped the curtain. In a few moments it was again raised, and all the nuns seemed as if, like statues, they had never moved: the only exception was the novice herself, who was kneeling at the grating, dressed in blue and white serge, with a crown of gold or tinsel upon her head; it was the crown or diadem of virginity. There was then a short service, some sprinkling of holy water,, some offering of prayer, the benedictions, and all was concluded. The nuns might be seen retiring with their candles still lighted, and their