“This attack having failed, another method was tried. They attempted to make me a party in the parties of the convent. They told me a thousand things of unjust partialities,--of unjust punishments, daily to be witnessed in the convent. They talked of a sickly brother being compelled to attend matins, while the physician pronounced his attendance on them must be his death,--_and he died_,--while a young favourite, in the bloom of health, had a dispensation from matins whenever he pleased to lie till nine in the morning;--of complaints that the confessional was not attended to as it ought,--and this might have made some impression on me, till another complainant added, and the _turning-box is not attended to as it ought to be_. This union of dissonant sounds,--this startling transition from a complaint of neglecting the mysteries of the soul in its profoundest communion with God, to the lowest details of the abuses of conventual discipline, revolted me at once. I had with difficulty concealed my disgust till then, and it was now so obvious, that the _party_ gave up their attempt for the moment, and beckoned to an _experienced_ monk to join me in my solitary walk, as I broke from them. He approached, “My brother, you are alone.” “I wish to be so.” “But why?” “I am not obliged to announce my reasons.” “True, but you may confide them to me.” “I have nothing to confide.” “I know that,--I would not for the world intrude on your confidence; reserve that for friends more honoured.” It struck me as rather odd, that he should, in the same breath, ask for my confidence,--declare that he was conscious I had nothing to intrust to him,--and, lastly, request a reserve of my confidence for some more favoured friend. I was silent, however, till he said, “But, my brother, you are devoured with ennui.” I was silent still. “Would to God I could find the means to dissipate it.” I said, looking on him calmly, “Are those means to be found within the walls of a convent?” “Yes, my dear brother,--yes, certainly,--the debate in which the convent is now engaged about the proper hour for matins, which the Superior wants to have restored to the original hour.” “What is the difference?” “_Full five minutes._” “I confess the importance of the question.” “Oh! if you once begin to feel it, there will be no end of your happiness in a convent. There is something every moment to inquire, to be anxious about, and to contend for. Interest yourself, my dear brother, in these questions, and you will not have a moment’s ennui to complain of.” At these words I fixed my eyes on him. I said calmly, but I believe emphatically, “I have, then, only to excite in my own mind, spleen, malignity, curiosity, every passion that your retreat should have afforded me protection against, to render that retreat supportable. Pardon me, if I cannot, like you, beg of God permission to take his enemy into compact against the corruption which I promote, while I