The curate had hardly pronounced the last word when a general "We thank you; for you have taken away a mountain from our shoulders," fell from almost every lip. "It is a fact that, notwithstanding the good opinion we had of you," said several, "we were in fear that you had missed the right track, and fallen down with your fair penitents into the ditch." I felt myself much relieved; for I was one of those who, in spite of myself, had my secret fears about the honesty of our host. When, very early the next morning, I had begun to hear the confessions, one of those unfortunate victims of the confessor's depravity came to me, and in the midst of many tears and sobs, she told me with great details what I repeat here in a few lines:-- "I was only nine years old when my first confessor began to do very criminal things with me when I was at his feet, confessing my sins. At first I was ashamed and much disgusted; but soon after I became so depraved that I was looking eagerly for every opportunity of meeting him either in his own house, or in the church, in the vestry, and many times in his own garden when it was dark at night. That priest did not remain very long; he was removed, to my great regret, to another place, where he died. He was succeeded by another one, who seemed at first to be a very holy man. I made to him a general confession with, it seems to me, a sincere desire to give up for ever that sinful life, but I fear that my confessions became a cause of sin to that good priest; for not long after my confession was finished, he declared to me in the confessional his love, with such passionate words that he soon brought me down again into my former criminal habits with him. This lasted six years, when my parents removed to this place. I was very glad of it, for I hoped that, being far away from him, I should not be any more a cause of sin to him, and that I might begin a better life. But the fourth time that I went to confess to my new confessor, he invited me to go to his room, where we did things so horrible together that I do not know how to confess them. It was two days before my marriage, and the only child I have had is the fruit of that sinful hour. After my marriage I continued the same criminal life with my confessor. He was the friend of my husband; we had many opportunities of meeting each other, not only when I was going to confess, but when my husband was absent and my child was at school. It was evident to me that several other women were as miserable and criminal as I was myself. This sinful intercourse with my confessor went on till God Almighty stopped it with a real thunderbolt. My dear only daughter had gone to confess and receive the holy communion. As she had come back from church much later than I expected, I inquired the reason which had kept her so long. She then threw herself into my arms, and with convulsive cries said: 'Dear mother, do not ask me any more to go to confess.... Oh! if you could