hand a church, and in the other a spade, the emblems of devotion and labour. This gateway leads into a court, which opens into a second enclosure; and around that, are granaries, stables, bakehouses, and other offices necessary to the abbey, which have all been happily preserved.

"On entering the gate, a lay-brother received me on his knees, and, in a low and whispering voice, informed me they were at vespers. The stateliness and gloom of the building; (the last rays of the sun scarcely penetrated through its windows;) the deep tones of the monks, chaunting the responses, which occasionally broke the silence, filled me with reverential emotions, which I was unwilling to disturb. It was necessary, however, to present my letter of introduction; and friar Charles, the secretaire, soon after came out, and received me with great civility.

"He requested that, in going over the convent, I would neither speak nor ask him any questions, in those places where I saw him kneel, or in the presence of any of the monks. I followed him to the chapel alone. As soon as the service was over, the bell rung to summon them for supper.

enveloped in a large cowl, and bent down to the earth, they chaunted the grace, and then seated themselves. During the repast, one of them standing, read a passage of Scripture, reminding them of death and the shortness of human existence. Another went round the whole community, and, on his knees, kissed their feet in succession; throwing himself prostrate on the floor, at intervals, before the image of our Saviour. A third remained on his knees the whole time, and in that attitude took his repast. These penitents had committed some fault, or neglected their religious duties; which, according to the regulations, they had accused themselves of, and were, in consequence, doomed to the above modes of penance. The refectory was furnished with long wooden tables and benches. Each person was provided with a trencher and a jug of water; and a cup, having on it the name of the brother to whom it was appropriated: as, friar Paul, friar Francis; and which name they assume on taking the order. Their supper consisted of bread soaked in water, a little salt, and two raw carrots placed by each: water is alone their beverage.

"The dinner is varied with a little cabbage or other vegetables: they have very rarely any cheese, and never meat, fish, or eggs. The

bread is of the coarsest kind possible. Their bed is a small truckle boarded, with a single covering, generally a blanket; no mattress or pillow; and, as in the former time, no fire is allowed but one in the great hall, which they never approach.

"The hardships undergone by these monks appear almost insupportable to human nature. Their mode of life and regulations exist nearly in the same state as established by the founder. In reciting them, such dreadful perversions of human nature and reason make it almost difficult to believe the existence of so severe an order, and lead us to wonder at the artificial miseries which the ingenuity of pious but mistaken enthusiasm can inflict upon itself.

"The abstinence practised at La Trappe allows not the use of fish, meat, eggs, nor butter, and a very limited allowance of bread and vegetables. They eat only twice a day: their meals consist of a slender repast about eleven in the morning, and two ounces of bread and two raw carrots in the evening; which, both together, do not at any time exceed twelve

ounces.

"The same spirit of mortification is observed in their cells, which are very small, and have no other furniture than a bed of boards, a hu

man skull, and a few religious books. Silence is at all times rigidly maintained: conversation is never permitted. Should two of them ever be seen standing near each other, though pursuing their daily labour, and preserving the strictest silence, it is considered as a violation of their vow, and highly criminal. Each member is, therefore, as completely insulated as if he alone existed in the monastery. None but the Père Abbé knows the name, age, rank, or even the native country, of any member of the community.

Every one, at his first entrance, assumes another name; and, with his former appellation, each is supposed to abjure not only the world, but every recollection and memorial of himself and his connexions. No word ever escapes from his lips, by which another could possibly guess who he is, or where he comes from; and persons of the same name, family, and neighbourhood, have often lived together in the convent for years, unknown to each other, without having suspected the proximity."

"Surely," said Mrs. Spencer, "the recluse and solitary life of these mistakenly pious men, is in direct opposition to the precepts of the sacred volume, which enjoin us to love our neighbour as ourselves. Now this love appears

best to be exemplified by acts of benevolence and practical kindness. If we would do good to mankind, we must live with them;' and the daily and hourly instances of self-denial that we are called upon to exercise, is surely of more benefit to the mind, than the most rigid austerity, or the most severe bodily penances."

"I quite agree with you," replied Mr. Wilmot: "the very mortifications they endure may induce self-love, or, I should rather say, selfrighteousness; and nothing, I think it will be generally allowed, can be more contrary to the tenor of the gospel spirit. Very different was the conduct of Bernard Palissy, a native of Saintes, in the south of France, who lived in the reign of Henry the Third. He was a potter by trade; but, having an innate genius for the sciences, he devoted all the time he could spare from his pottery, to the cultivation of them.

"The king hearing of him, and curious to see so extraordinary a character, sent for him to Paris, and had several interviews with him. Palissy was, by religion, a protestant; and it was thought his religious principles were the great obstacles to his fortune.

"One day the king told him, unless he would change his religion he should be compelled to