manner as the veil.  This was placed on the ring-finger of the left hand as a “symbol of the intimate union and espousal with Christ” signified by her renunciation of the world.  The scapular of white serge, similarly blessed, was then laid upon her shoulders as a type of the “yoke of obedience and sacrifice;” and lastly, the black cloak, signifying charity, covering and enveloping the whole person.  Then in a loud, firm voice, instinct with passion and resolve, she read, standing, the formal declaration of her religious vows.  When this was over the mother-superior led the novice, now Sister Maria Colomba, to a small table on which lay a bridal wreath of white roses and a crown of thorns.  She asked her solemnly which was her choice in life, and the novice took up the crown of thorns and placed it on her head.  This typical ceremony I never saw performed in any other order.  Shortly after the crown of thorns was exchanged for that of roses, the superior saying, “Inasmuch as thou hast chosen the crown which thy Saviour wore, He rewards thee with that which is a shadow of the heavenly crown reserved for His spouses in heaven.”  This bridal token the new nun wears during the whole day.

To a few ladies and to the angiolini a special permission to enter the enclosure was given in honor of the day:  a festive meal was served in the bare, cool refectory, the rule of silence being relaxed for the special occasion, and the nuns wearing a happy, child-like expression that hardly varied in the face of the youngest novice and that of the septuagenarian “mother.”  The strangers were shown through the dormitories, the kitchen, the laundry, the garden, the community-room, where embroidery, painting and study diversify the labors of the broom and the dishcloth, and everywhere the same exquisite neatness struck the eye.  Everything used in the house was of the coarsest description—­the linen like sack-cloth, but speckless; the delf as thick and rough as if made for sailors; the floors mostly of brick or stone; the furniture of unpainted deal.  Over each bed, which is only a board on trestles covered with heavy sacking, is a common crucifix and a sprig of box or olive blessed on Palm Sunday.  The sisters sleep in their tunics.  The library is common property, but no one may use or read any book save by permission of the superioress.  The rules of fasting and abstinence are not exactly the same in every convent of the order, but the broad rule is that meat should be eaten only on great holidays, vegetables and farinaceous preparations, such as most Italians are not unskilled in, forming the staple of the nuns’ food.  Fish is almost as rare a luxury as meat.  Their bread is coarse and brown, and their drink indifferently water or a wine so sour that it is practically vinegar.  Not that these nuns are not good cooks and bakers:  witness the delicate sweetmeats, biscuits and pastry they offer to strangers on such festival days as the one just described, the fruit-preserves in blocks sold for