Wilfrid's convent, who pass through the formality in a calm, easy,
finished manner, and then hurry along, some with veils down and
others with veils up, to a side sitting they have. There is no
religious shoddy amongst these persons. They may look solemn, yet
some of them have finely moulded features; they may dress strangely
and gloomily, yet, if you converse with them, they will always give
indications of serener spirits. Whether their profession be right or
wrong, this is certain: they keep one of the best schools in the
town, and they teach children manners--a thing which many parents
can't manage. They also make themselves useful in visiting; they
have a certain respect for faith, but more for good works; and if
other folk in Christendom held similar views on this point the good
done would in the end be greater. All these Sisters of Mercy are
accomplished--they are clever in the head, know how to play music,
to paint, and to sew; can cook well if they like; and it's a pity
they are not married. But they are doing more good single than lots
of women are accomplishing in the married state, and we had better
let them alone. Its dangerous to either command or advise the
gentler sex, and as everything finds its own level by having its own
way they will, we suppose, in the end.

One of the most noticeable features in connection with the services
at St. Wilfrid's is the music. It is proverbial that Catholics have
good music. You won't find any of the drawling, face-pulling,
rubbishy melodies worked up to a point of agony in some places of
worship countenanced in the Catholic Church. All is classical--all
from the best masters. There is an enchantment in the music which
binds you--makes you like it whether you will or not. At St.
Wilfrid's there is a choir which can't be excelled by any provincial
body of singers in the kingdom. The learned individual who blows the