“‘It is not quite a year since, that I was going, about the time of Easter, according to my usual custom, to confess my sins to my parish priest. He being well acquainted with myself and all my family, began to interrogate me respecting my son, the only one I have, a young man _twenty-four_ years of age, full of patriotic ardour, but with little respect for the priests. It happened that I observed to the curate that, notwithstanding my remonstrances, my son was in the habit of saying that the business of a priest was a complete deception, and that the head of all the impostors was the Pope himself. Would I had never told him! The curate would hear no further. ‘It is your duty,’ said he, ‘to denounce your son to the Inquisition.’ Imagine what I felt at this intimation! To be the accuser of my own son! ‘Such is the case,’ observed he, ‘there is no help for it--I cannot absolve you, neither can any one else, until the thing is done.’ And, indeed, from every one else I have had the same refusal. It is now twelve months since I have received absolution; and in this present year many misfortunes have befallen me. Ten days ago I tried again, and promised, in order that I might receive absolution, that I would denounce my son; but it was all in vain, until I had actually done so. I inquired then to whom I ought to go, to prefer the accusation; and I was told, to the bishop, or the vicar of the Holy Office, and they named yourself to me. Twice, already, have I been here, with the intention of doing what was required of me, and as often have I recollected that I was a mother, and was overwhelmed with horror at the idea. On Sunday last I came to your church, to pray to the Virgin, the mother of Christ, to aid me through this difficulty; and I remember that when I had recited the rosary in her honour, I turned to pray also to the Son, saying:--‘O Lord Jesus, thou wert also accused, before the chief priests, by a traitorous disciple: but thou didst not permit that thy mother should take part in that accusation. Behold, then, I also am a mother; and, although my son is a sinner, whilst thou wert most just, do not, I implore thee, require that his own mother should be his accuser.’ Whilst I was making this prayer the preaching began. I inquired the preacher’s name, and they told me yours. I feigned to pay attention to the discourse, but I was wholly occupied in looking at you, and reflecting, with many sighs, that I was under the obligation to accuse to you my own child. In the midst of my agitation a thought suddenly relieved me, I did not see the Inquisition in your countenance. Young, animated, and with marks of sensibility, it seemed that you would not be too harsh with my son; I thought I would entreat you first to convert him yourself, to reprimand, and to threaten him, without inflicting actual punishment upon him.’