again and again, in application to various ceremonies which we had to
perform. Mad Jane Ray seized upon it with avidity, and with her aid it
soon took the place of a by-word in conversation, so that we were
constantly reminding each other, that we were doing this and that thing,
how trifling and unmeaning soever, "for the God." Nor did we stop here:
when the superior called upon us to bear witness to one of her religious
lies, or to fabricate the most spurious one the time would admit; to
save her the trouble, we were sure to be reminded, on our way to the
strangers' room, that we were doing it "for the God." And so it was when
other things were mentioned--every thing which belonged to our
condition, was spoken of in similar terms.

I have hardly detained the reader long enough on the subject, to give
him a just impression of the stress laid on confession. It is one of the
great points to which our attention was constantly directed. We were
directed to keep a strict and constant watch over our thoughts; to have
continually before our minds the rules of the Convent, to compare the
one with the other, remember every devotion, and tell all, even the
smallest, at confession, either to the Superior or to the priest. My
mind was thus kept in a continual state of activity, which proved very
wearisome; and it required the constant exertion of our teachers, to
keep us up to the practice they inculcated.

Another tale recurs to me, of those which were frequently told us to
make us feel the importance of unreserved confession. A nun of our
Convent, who had hidden some sin from her confessor, died suddenly, and
without any one to confess her. Her sisters assembled to pray for the
peace of her soul, when she appeared, and informed them, that it would
be of no use, but rather troublesome to her, as her pardon was
impossible. [Footnote: Since the first edition, I have found this tale