In another part of the room, a monk was under punishment. He was
standing in some kind of a machine, with heavy weights attached to his
feet, and a belt passed across his breast under his arms. He appeared to
be in great distress, and no refreshment was furnished him while I was
there.
On one side of the room, I observed a closet with a "slide door," as the
nuns called them. There were several doors of this description in the
building, so constructed as to slide back into the ceiling out of
sight. Through this opening I could see an image resembling a monk; and
whenever any one was put in there, they would shriek, and groan, and beg
to be taken out, but I could not ascertain the cause of their suffering.
One day a nun was brought in to be punished. The priest led her up to
the side of the room, and bade her put her fingers into some holes in
the wall just large enough to admit them. She obeyed but immediately
drew them back with a loud shriek. I looked to see what was the matter
with her, and lo! every nail was torn from her fingers, which were
bleeding profusely. How it was done, I do not know. Certainly, there was
no visible cause for such a surprising effect. In all probability the
fingers came in contact with the spring of some machine on the other
side, or within the wall to which some sharp instrument was attached. I
would give much to know just how it was constructed, and what the
girl had done to subject herself to such a terrible and unheard-of
punishment. But this, like many other things in that establishment, was
wrapped in impenetrable mystery. God only knows when the veil will be
removed, or whether it ever will be until the day when all secret things
will be brought to light.
When the three days expired, I was taken out of this room, but did not
go to work again till my feet were healed. I was then obliged to assist
in milking the cows, and taking care of the milk. They had a large
number of cows, I believe thirty-five, and dairy rooms, with every thing
convenient for making butter and cheese. When first directed to go
out and milk, I was pleased with the idea, for I hoped to find and
opportunity to escape; but I was again disappointed. In the cow yard, as
elsewhere, every precaution was taken to prevent it.
Passing out of the main yard of the convent through a small door, I
found myself in a small, neat yard, surrounded by a high fence, so that
nothing could be seen but the sky overhead. The cows were driven in,
and the door immediately locked, so that escape from that place seemed
impossible.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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