the character of the two houses, or rather the people who live in them, are very much alike, whether they are nunneries of private families, Catholics or Protestants.  Honest people have no need of a slide in the door, and where there is so much precaution, may we not suppose that something behind the curtain imperatively calls for it?  It is an old adage, but true notwithstanding, that “where there is concealment, there must be something wrong.”

In the hall opposite the front door were two other doors, with a considerable space between them.  The right hand door was opened by the door-tender, and we entered a room furnished in the plainest manner, but every thing was neat, and in perfect order.  Instead of chairs, on two sides of the room a long bench was fastened to the sides of the house.  They were neither painted, nor cushioned, but were very white, as was also the floor, on which there was no carpet.  Beside the door stood a basin of holy water, and directly opposite, an image of the Saviour extended on the cross which they call a crucifix.

Here we were left a few moments, then the door-keeper came back, and asked us if we would like to see the Black Cloisters; and if so, to follow her.  She led us back into the hall, and in the space between the two doors that I mentioned, she unlocked a bar, and pulling it down, touched a spring, and immediately a little square door slid back into the ceiling.  Across this door, or window or whatever they called it, were strong bars of iron about one inch apart.  Through this aperture we were allowed to look, and a sad sight met my eyes.  As many as fifty disconsolate looking ladies were sitting there, who were called Black Nuns, because they were preparing to take the Black Veil.  They were all dressed in black, a black cap on the head, and a white bandage drawn across the forehead, to which another was attached, that passed under the chin.  These bandages they always wore, and were not allowed to lay aside.  They sat, each one with a book in her hand, motionless as so many statues.  Not a finger did they move, not an eye was raised, but they sat gazing upon the page before them as intently as though life itself depended upon it.  Our guide informed us that they were studying the [footnote] Black Book preparatory to taking the Black Veil and entering the Cloister.  This book was quite a curiosity.  It was very large, with a white cover, and around the edge a black border about an inch wide.

[Footnote:  “The Black Book, or Praxis Sacra Romance Inquisitionis, is always the model for that which is to succeed it.  This book is a large manuscript volume, in folio, and is carefully preserved by the head of the Inquisition.  It is called Libro Nero, the Black Book, because it has a cover of that color; or, as an inquisitor explained to me, Libro Necro, which, in the Greek language, signifies ‘The book of the dead.’