“Such, Florry, is their boasted charity; and I might add, their lives are little in accordance with the spirit inculcated by our Saviour, who said, ’When ye do your alms, let not your left hand know what your right hand doeth.’  There are thousands who daily dispense charities of various kinds; yet they do not term themselves Sisters of Charity; neither promenade the streets in a garb so antiquated and peculiar as to excite attention, or elicit encomiums on their marvelously holy lives and charitable deeds.  Do not suppose, Florry, because I speak thus, that I doubt the sincerity of all who enroll themselves as Sisters.  I do believe that there are many pious and conscientious women thus engaged; yet they are but tools of the priests, and by them placed in these institutions for the purpose of making proselytes.”

A pause ensued, and Florence paced slowly along the bank.  Somewhat abruptly she replied: 

“Yet you will admit, Mary, that we owe much to the monks, by whose efforts light and knowledge were preserved during the dark ages?  But for them every vestige of literature, every record of the past, would inevitably have been lost.”

“Tell me, Florry, what caused the dark ages?  Was it not the gradual withdrawal of light and knowledge—­the crushing, withering influence exerted on the minds of men?  And tell me if this influence was not wielded by the priests of Rome—­corrupted, fallen Rome?  During the dark period in question, papal power was at its height; the thunders of the Vatican were echoed from the Adriatic to the Atlantic—­from the Mediterranean to the North Sea.  An interdict of its profligate Pope clothed cities, and kingdoms, and empires in mourning; the churches were closed, the dead unburied, and no rite, save that of baptism, performed.  Ignorance and superstition reigned throughout the world; and it is said, that in the ninth century scarce a person was to be found in Rome itself who knew even the alphabet.  Yet monasteries crowned every eminence, and dotted the vales of southern Europe.  The power of the priesthood was supreme.  Florry, I do admit that what remained of light and learning was hid in the cell of the anchorite; not disseminated, but effectually concealed.  They forgot our Saviour’s injunction—­’Let your light shine before men.’  Oh!  Florry, did not the teachers of the dark ages put their light under a bushel?  Dark ages will ever follow the increase of papal power.  It is part of their system to keep the masses in ignorance.  How truly it has been said that Rome asked but one thing, and that Luther denied her—­’A fulcrum of ignorance on which to rest that lever by which she can balance the world.’  They dare not allow their people light and knowledge; and what to others was indeed a dark age, is regarded by the priests of Rome as a golden season.  Can you point to a single papal country which is not enveloped in the black cloud of superstition and crime?  To Italy, and Spain, and Portugal, the dark ages have not passed