Bat tho convert privileged to pass the
gates loft Protestant England outside,
and found himself, as it were, in a new
country. Inside tho Retreat the pater
nal care of tho church took possession
ot him; surrounded him with monastic
simplicity in his neat little bedroom,
and dazzled him with devotional splen
dor when his religious duties called him
into the chapel. The perfect taste—so
seldom found in the modem arrange
ment and decoration of convents and
churches in southern countries—showed
itself hero, pressed into tho service of
religion in every part of tho house. The
severest discipline had no sordid and
hideous side to it in tho Retreat. The
inmates fasted on spotless table-cloths,
and handled knives and forks (tho hum
ble servants of half-tilled stomaehs) with
out a speck on their decent brightness.
Penitents who kissed the steps of the
altar (to use tho expressive Oriental
phrase), “eat no dirt.” Friends, liberal
friends, permitted to visit tho inmates
on stated days, saw copies of famous
Holy Families in tho reception-room
whiclr were really works of art, and trod
a carpet of studiously modest preten
tions, exhibiting pious emblems beyond
reproach in color and design. The Re
treat had its own artesian well; not a
person iu tho house drank impurity in
his water. A faint perfume of incense
was perceptible iu the corridors. The
soothing and mysterious ailonco of the
place was intensified rather than dis
turbed by soft footsteps, and gentle
opening and closing of doors. Animal
life was not even rt presented by a cat
in tho kitchen. And yet, pervaded by
some inscrutable influence, the house
was not dull.
