if whole generations of monks were coming back to haunt the abodes once familiar to them. Hark! what was that piercing sound? Was it the wind, or was it the shriek of some wretched monk who passed from life unrepentant and unforgiven, and who now has come back after an age of suffering in Purgatory to say a Midnight Mass for his despairing soul?
But if the question be whether this round of religious exercises has any very important influence in making men spiritually better, a candid observer must shake his head. At first one who listens in a musing mood to these midnight devotions, would think that out of such vigils and prayers must spring the consummate flower of piety; that these men, who are so holy that they cannot live with their fellows, but dwell apart, must be better than others; that all their conversation must be in heaven, and their lives be spent in deeds of charity.
But let us see. I observed the next morning that there was a strange silence in the Convent. Having taken the night to pray, they took the day to sleep. These hours of prayer were not then so much added to the usual times for devotion, but only night turned into day that day might be turned into night. Was there in this any spiritual gain?
As to the pretensions of superior sanctity, any such impression is quickly dispelled. It is enough to look in the faces of these men to see that they are, with scarce an exception, of a low stamp. They are very ignorant. The Archimandrite tells me there is not a really learned man among them. One or two I have seen walking in the avenues of the garden who had a scholarly look, but the mass of them are utterly without education. Three or four can neither read nor write.
But how can such men find admission into a religious
