THE PROFESSION OF A NUN.

THE places allotted to us as being strangers, whom the Italians never fail to distinguish by the most courteous manners, were such as not only to enable us to view the whole ceremony, but to contemplate the features and expression of this interesting being.

All awaited the moment of her entrance with anxious impatience, and on her appearance every eye was directed toward her with an expression of the deepest interest. Splendidly adorned, and attended by a female friend of high rank, she slowly advanced to the seat assigned her near the altar. Her fine form rose above the middle stature, a gentle bend marked her contour; her deep blue eyes, which were occasionally in pious awe raised to Heaven, and her long, dark eyelashes, gave life to a beautiful countenance.

She was the only child of doating parents; but while their afflicted spirit found vent in tears which coursed over cheeks chilled by sorrow, they yet beheld their treasure about to be separated

from them, with that resignation which piety inspires, while yielding to a sacrifice made to Heaven. The ceremony now began, the priest pronounced a discourse, and the other observances proceeded in the usual order.

At length the solemn moment approached which was to bind her vows to Heaven. She arose and stood for a few moments before the altar; when suddenly, yet with noiseless action, she sank extended on the marble floor. A momentary pause ensued when the deep silence was broken, by the low tones of the organ, accompanied by soft and beautiful female voices. The sound gently swelled in the air, and as the harmonious volume became more powerful, the deep church-bell at intervals sounded with a loud clamor, exciting a mixed feeling of agitation and grandeur.

This solemn music continued long, and still fell mournfully on the ear; and yet seraphic as in softened tones, and as it were receding in the distance, it gently sank into silence. The young novice was then raised, and advancing toward the priest, she bent down, kneeling at his feet, while he cut a lock of her hair, as a type of the ceremony that was to deprive her of this, to her no longer valued, ornament. Her attendant then despoiled her of the rich jewels with which she was adorned;

her splendid upper vesture was thrown off, and replaced by a monastic garment; her long tresses bound up, her temples covered with fair linen; the white crown, emblem of innocence, fixed on her head, and the crucifix placed in her hands.

Then kneeling low once more before the altar, she uttered her last vow to Heaven; at which moment the organ and choristers burst forth in loud shouts of triumph.

The ceremony finished, she arose and attended in procession, proceeding toward a wide gate, dividing the church from the convent, which, opening wide, displayed a small chapel beautifully illuminated; a thousand lights shed a brilliant lustre, whose lengthened gleams seemed sinking into darkness, as they shot through the long perspective of the distant aisle. In the foreground, in a blazing focus of light, stood an altar, from which, in a divided line, the nuns of the community were seen, each holding a large burning wax taper. They seemed to be disposed in order of seniority, and the two youngest were still adorned with the white crown, as being in the first week of their novitiate.

Both seemed in early youth, and their cheeks, yet unpaled by vigils, bloomed with a brightened tint, while their eyes sparkled, and a smile seemed

struggling with the solemnity of the moment, in expression of their innocent delight in beholding the approach of her who had that day offered up her vows, and become one of the community.

The others stood in succession, with looks more subdued, pale, mild, collected, the head gently bending toward the earth in contemplation. The procession stopped at the threshold of the church, when the young nun was received and embraced by the Lady-Superior, who, leading her onward, was followed in procession by the nuns, each bearing her lighted torch.

JOHN BELL, Observations on Italy.

DIVORCE.

THE civil-contract theory of marriage is strictly in place in any system which banishes God from the world and human life. It is in order in rationalized communities, in societies which have ceased to be Christian. Some of us are reproached for not being in accord with the spirit of the age; how can we be, if the spirit of the age and its movements are practically atheistic? To induce men to ignore God's word and reject His law, to show men how to do without God, is the avowed aim of the advanced thinker of the day; and the view of marriage, as a civil contract only, falls in with the rest of his programme.

Unfortunately we can not stop at that. The truth must be told, however painfully it may strike the unaccustomed ear. This is not only a sign of an infidel society, it is also an outgrowth from the principles which form the evil side of Protestantism. There can be no doubt as to the genesis of this abomination. I quote the language of the Bishop of Maine: "Laxity of opinion and teachings on the sacredness of the marriage bond and on