That night I retired to a comfortable bed, and was soon lost to all earthly cares in the glorious land of dreams.  What unalloyed happiness I enjoyed that night! what impossible feats I performed!  Truly, the vision was bright, but a sad awaking followed.  Some time in the night I was aroused by the flashing of a bright light from a dark lantern suddenly opened.  I attempted to rise, but before I could realize where I was, a strong hand seized me and a gag was thrust into my mouth.  The man attempted to take me in his arms, but with my hands and feet I defended myself to the best of my ability.  Another man now came to his assistance, and with strong cords confined my hands and feet, so that I was entirely at their mercy.  Perfectly helpless, I could neither resist nor call for help.  They then took me up and carried me down stairs, with no clothing but my night-dress, not even a shawl to shield me from the cold night air.

At the gate stood a long covered wagon, in form like a butchers cart, drawn by two horses, and beside it a long box with several men standing around it.  I had only time to observe this, when they thrust me into the box, closed the lid, placed it in the wagon, and drove rapidly away.  I could not doubt for a moment into whose hands I had fallen, and when they put me into the box, I wished I might suffocate, and thus end my misery at once.  But they had taken good care to prevent this by boring holes in the box, which admitted air enough to keep up respiration.  And this was the result of all my efforts for freedom!  After all I had suffered in making my escape, it was a terrible disappointment to be thus cruelly betrayed, gagged, bound, and boxed up like an article of merchandise, carried back to certain torture, and perchance to death.  O, blame me not, gentle reader, if in my haste, and the bitter disappointment and anguish of my spirit, I questioned the justice of the power that rules the world.  Nor let your virtuous indignation wax hot against me if I confess to you, that I even doubted the existence of that power.  How often had I cried to God for help!  Why were my prayers and tears disregarded?  What had I done to deserve such a fife of misery?  These, and similar thoughts occupied my mind during that lonely midnight ride.

We arrived at St. Regis before the first Mass in the morning.  The box was then taken into the chapel, where they took me out and carried me into the church.  I was seated at the foot of the altar, with my hands and feet fast bound, the gag still in my mouth, and no clothing on, but my night-dress.  Two men stood beside me, and I remained here until the priest had said mass and the people retired from the church.  He then came down from the altar, and said to the men beside me, “Well, you have got her.”  “Yes Sir,” they replied, “what shall we do with her?” “Put her on the five o’clock boat,” said he, “and let the other men go with her to Montreal.  I want you to stay here, and be ready to go the other way tonight” This priest was an Indian, but he spoke the English language correctly and fluently.  He seemed to feel some pity for my forlorn condition, and as they were about to carry me away he brought a large shawl, and wrapped it around me, for which I was truly grateful.