engaging me most unexpectedly in the serious study of religion. The
particulars I am about to give you respecting these things, will
convince you that God can overrule the wickedness of men for good, and
will show you that a Romish priest was the means of directing me to
_the way_, (I mean the perusal and free examination of the word of
God,) which led me, eventually, to the Protestant church.

Your mother's funeral was conducted with Catholic ceremonies, and,
according to my means, I spared nothing to honour her remains. I
likewise consented, either from conformity to custom, or from a wish
to please my relatives, who were influenced by the fear of purgatory,
or perhaps from participating myself in the false notion that bought
prayers can mitigate the sufferings of the dead--from one or all of
these causes, aggravated by the sorrow which filled my heart and
inflamed my imagination, I consented to the performance of the nine
customary masses for the rest of the soul.

The priest to whom I first went, told me that he was too busy to
undertake the whole, but that I might depend upon him for three. From
him I went to another, who engaged to say the remaining six, and did
so without delay. Sunday after Sunday, for a considerable time, I went
to the first, to inquire whether my three masses would be said in the
following week. He always found some excuse, saying that "there were
others more urgent than myself--that he was previously engaged--that
he had undertaken more than was in his power to perform,". From
February to June, I was thus put off under various pretexts. Worn out,
at length, by so many fruitless efforts, I resolved to put an end to
them, and mentioned the subject to your aunt, your mother's sister,
expressing to her my extreme annoyance. She asked me if I had offered
the priest the amount of the masses which he had promised to say?