damage, if she sanctioned the infamous conduct of the bishop; but this is impossible."

"You are correct," rejoined the Jesuit. "Our holy church cannot sanction such criminal conduct. She has, hundreds of times, condemned those tyrannical and unjust actions, in other bishops. Such want of common honesty and justice will be condemned everywhere, as soon as it is known. The first thing we have to do, is to find out the names of your accusers. I have not the least doubt that they are the blind instruments of Machiavelist plots against you. But those plots have only to be brought to light, to vanish away. My impression is, that the miserable girl you have so abruptly and so wisely turned out of your confessional, knows more than the bishop wants us to find out, about the plots. It is a pity you did not ask her name and residence. At all events, you may rely on my efforts to persuade our bishop that his personal interest, as well as the interest of our holy religion, is, that he should speedily withdraw that sentence, which is a nullity by itself. It will not be difficult for me to show him that he has fallen into the very pit he has dug under your feet. He has taken a position against you which is absolutely untenable. Before your retreat is at an end, no doubt he will be too happy to make his peace with you. Only trust in God, and in the blessed Virgin Mary, and you have nothing to fear from the conflict. Our bishop has put himself above all the laws of man and God, to condemn the priest he had himself officially named: the Apostle of Temperance of Canada.' There is not a single man, in the church, who will allow him to stand on that ground. The 200,000 soldiers you have enrolled under the holy banners of temperance, will force him to retract his too hasty and unjust sentence."

It would be too long to repeat here all the encouraging words which that wise Jesuit uttered.

Father Schneider was a European priest, who was in Montreal only since 1849. He had won my confidence, the very first time I met him, and I had chosen him, at once, for my confessor and adviser. The third day of my retreat, Father Schneider came to my room earlier than usual, and said:

"I have worked hard the last two days, to find out the name and residence of the carter to whom that miserable girl spoke in the church, after you had turned her out of your confessional, and I have it. If you have no objection I will send for him. He may know that girl and induce her to come here."

"By all means, dear father," I answered, "do it without losing a moment."

Two hours later, the carter was with me. I recognized him as one of those dear countrymen whom our society of temperance had transformed into a new man. I asked him if he remembered the name of the girl who, a few days before, had spoken to him in the church, after going out of my confessional. "Yes sir! I know her well. She has a very bad name, though she belongs to a respectable family."

I added: "Do you think you could induce her to come here, by telling her that a priest, in the Jesuit College, wants to see her? But do not give her my name."

He answered: "Nothing is more easy. She will be here in a couple of hours, if I find her at home."

At three p. m., the carter was again knocking at my door, and said, with a low voice:

"The girl you want is in the parlor; she has no idea you are here, for she told me that you were now preaching in St. Con. stant. She seems to be very angry against you, and bitterly complains against your want of courtesy, the very first time she went to confess to you."

"Is it possible that she told you that?" I replied.

"Yes sir! She told me that to explain her terrible excitement when coming out of your confessional, the other day; she then requested me to drive her home. She was really beside herself, and swore that she would make you pay for your harsh words and rude manner towards her. You will do well to be on your guard with her. She is one of the most depraved girls of Montreal, and has a most dangerous tongue, though to the shame of our holy religion, she is daily seen in the bishop's palace." "My

I immediately went to Father Schneider, and said:

dear father, by the mercy of God, the girl we want to see 1s in the parlor. By what I have just heard from the carter who drove her, I have not the least doubt but that she is the one employed by the bishop to slander me, and get a pretext for what he has done. Please come with me to witness my innocence. But, take your gospel, ink, paper and pen with you."

"All right," answered the wise Jesuit.

Two minutes later we were in her presence.

It is impossible to describe her dismay, when she saw me. She came near fainting. I feared she should not be able to utter a word.

I spoke to her very kindly, and ran to get a glass of cold water, which did her good.

When she recovered, I said to her, with a tone of mixed authority and kind firmness: "You are here in the presence of God and two of his priests. That great God will hear every word which will fall from your lips. You must speak the truth. You have denounced me to the bishop as guilty of some great iniquity. You are the cause of my being interdicted. You, alone, can repair the injury you have done me. That injury is very great; but it can be easily repaired by you. In the presence of that venerable priest, say whether or not, I am guilty of the crime you have brought to my charge!"

At these words, the unfortunate girl burst into tears. She hid her face in her handkerchief, and with a voice half-suffocated with sighs, she said:

"No sir! You are not guilty."

I added: "Confess another thing. Is it not a fact that you had come to my confessional more with the intention of tempting me to sin, than to reconcile yourself to God?"

"Yes sir!" she added, "this was my wicked intention.

"Continue to tell the truth, and our great and merciful God will forgive you. Is it not to revenge yourself for my rebuking you, that you have brought the false accusations to the bishop in order that he might interdict me?"

"Yes sir! that is the only reason I had for accusing you."

After Father Schneider had made four copies of those

declarations, signed by him as witness, and after she had sworn on the gospel, I forgave her the injury she had done me, I gave her some good advice and dismissed her.

"Is it not evident," I said to Father Schneider, "that our merciful God never forsakes those who trust in him?"

"Yes, I never saw the interposition of God so marvellously manifested as in this perfect deliverance from the hands of your enemies. But, please tell me why you requested me to make four copies of her sworn declaration of your innocence; was not one sufficient?" asked Mr. Schneider.

I answered: "One of those copies was for the bishop; another will remain in your hands, Mr. Brassard will have one, and I need one for myself. For the dishonesty of the bishop is so evident to me, now, that I think him able to destroy the copy I will send him, with the hope, after its destruction, of keeping me at his feet. If he does that new act of iniquity, I will confound him with the three other authentic copies which will remain. Besides, this unfortunate girl may die sooner than we expect. In that case, I would find myself again with the bishop's knife on my throat, if I had no other retractation to the perjured declaration which he has persuaded her to give him."

"You are right," replied Father Schneider, "now the only thing for you to do is to send that retractation to the bishop, with a firm and polite request to retract his unjust sentence against you. Let me do the rest with him. The battle is over. It has been fierce, but short. However, thanks be to God, you have a most complete victory over your unjust aggressors. The bishop will do all in his power, no doubt, to make you forget this darkest page of his life."

The shrewd Jesuit was correct, in his previsions. Never did any bishop receive me with so many marks, not only with kindness, but I dare say of respect, than Bishop Bourget, when, after my retreat, I went to take leave of him, before my departure from Canada to the United States.

"I trust, my lord," I said, "that, to-day, I can hope to posssess the confidence and friendly feelings of your lordship?" "Certainly, my dear Mr. Chiniquy, certainly; you possesss

ny full confidence and friendship. I dare say more; you possess my most sincere gratitude, for what yon have done in my liocese."

I answered: "I am much obliged to your lordship for this expression of your kind feelings. But, now, I have two new favors to ask from your lordship. The first, is a written document expressive of those kind feelings.

"The second, is a chalice from your hands to offer the holy sacrifice of mass the rest of my life."

"I will grant your request with the utmost pleasure," answered the bishop; and without losing a moment, he wrote the following letter, which I reproduce here, on account of its importance.

translation.

Montreal. Oct. 13th, 1851.

SIR: You request me to give you permission to leave my diocese in order to go and offer your services to the Bishop of Chicago. As you still belong to the Diocese of Quebec, I think you ought to address yourself to my lord of Quebec, to get the extract you want. As for me, I cannot but thank you for what you have done in our midst; and in my gratitude towards you, I wish you the most abundant blessing from heaven. Every day of my life, I will remember you. You will always be in my heart, and I hope that on some future day, the providence of God will give me some opportunity of showing you all the feelings of gratitude I feel towards you. I remain, your most obedient servant,

REV. C. CHINIQUY.

IGNACE.

Bishop of Montreal.

Though that letter was a most perfect recantation of all he had said and done against me, and was of immense value to me in such circumstances, the bishop added to its importance by the exceedingly kind manner in which he handed it to me.

As he was going into another room he said:

"I will give you the silver chalice you want, to offer the holy sacrifice of mass the rest of your days."

But, he came back and said:

"My secretary is absent, and has the key of the trunk which contains those vases."

"It makes no difference, my lord," I replied, "please order