Quite often during my postulant period, while I was learning these Latin prayers, I would have to do sewing. This was a beginning of the vow of poverty, which I hoped to take in the near future--learning to be a religious, and at the same time working my hands for the Roman Catholic system. The candidate is assigned her work by the mistress of novices and goes through a test to see in what way she can become useful in the service of God as a Sister of Charity. It is a case of getting all the work possible out of the girls from the very start, for these so-called "holy" institutions. My two years' novitiate training was served in the boys' department of the Orphanage of the Sisters of Charity at Vancouver, Washington. There was an average of about seventy boys in this institution, ranging in age from three to fourteen years. Two sisters had all the care of these children, except the cooking of the food. And, oh, the care these poor children received. They were physically and mentally weak from having been underfed and poorly cared for, and being taught by two sisters who had a parochial school education such as I had. One of my duties was to awaken these poor, little waif children for Mass at five thirty in the morning. If, on arising, I found that any of them had failed to get up during the night to attend to nature's call, it was my duty to whip them with a substantial leather strap, which was provided for that purpose. If some of the larger boys needed this persuasive remedy for their ills, they would be taken to the attic, stripped, and some sister would be there to administer the medicine in prolific doses. With this kind of treatment, it was no wonder that we had to be continually on our guard to keep them from running away. I have known as many as six at one time to run away for two or three days, and sometimes some of them would not come back at all. On the twenty-fourth day of February, 1882, I was admitted to the "holy habit," in most orders called the taking of the "white veil," the next step to my "religious perfection." I was now a "novice" and I must present myself every two weeks to the mistress of novices, and in order that she may direct my soul in the spiritual life, I must kneel to her in private and make what is called "manifestation of conscience." That is, to lay bare my heart and mind in everything I can possibly think of, excepting grave sins. If the mistress, who is a cunning director, has any dislike for any of the novices, this exercise is very cruel, for these "saintly" nuns know better than any one on earth how to cunningly torture those in their power--the system forcing them to it. Every week I had to go to the priest for confession, whether I had anything to confess or not. Very often I had to search my heart and mind to find something to tell this "Christ" in the confessional.