The people were in bed, in another room, but a man looked out, and asked what I wanted.  “I’m a nun,” said I.  “I’ve run away from the Grey Nunnery, and they’re after me.  Hide me, O hide me, and God will bless you!” As I spoke he put out his hand and opened the cellar door.  “Here,” said he, “run down cellar, I’ll be with you in a moment.”  I obeyed, and he struck a light and followed.  Pointing to a place where he kept ashes, he said hastily, “Crawl in there.”  There was not a moment to lose, for before he had covered up my hiding place, a loud knock was heard upon the front door.  Having extinguished his light, he ran up stairs, and opened the door with the appearance of having just left his bed.  “Who is here?” he asked, “and what do you want this time of night?” One of them replied, “We are in search of a nun, and are very sure she came in here?” “Well gentlemen,” said he, “walk in, and see for yourselves.  If she is here, you are at liberty to find her.”  Lighting a candle, he proceeded to guide them over the house, which they searched until they were satisfied.  They then came down cellar, and I gave up all hope of escape.  Still, I resolved never to be taken alive.  I could strangle myself, and I would do it, rather than suffer as I did before.  At that moment I could truly say with the inspired penman, with whose language I have since become familiar, “my soul chooseth strangling and death rather than life.”

They looked all around me, and even into the place where I lay concealed, but they did not find me.  At length I heard them depart, and so great was my joy, I could hardly restrain my feelings within the bounds of decorum.  I felt as though I must dance and sing, shout aloud or leap for joy at my great deliverance.  I am sure I should have committed some extravagant act had not the gentleman at that moment called me up, and told me that my danger was by no means past.  This information so dashed my cup of bliss that I was able to drink it quietly.

He gave me some refreshment, and as soon as safety would permit, saddled his horse, and taking me on behind him, carried me six miles to another boat, put me on board, and paid the captain three dollars to carry me to Laprairie.  On leaving me, he gave me twenty-five cents, and said, “you’ll be caught if you go with the other passengers.”  The captain said he could hide me and no one know that I was on board, but himself.  He led me to the end of the boat, and put me upon a board over the horses.  He fixed a strong cord for me to hold on by, and said, “you must be careful and not fall down, for the horses would certainly kill you before you could be taken out.”  The captain was very kind to me and when I left him, gave me twenty-five cents, and some good advice.  He said I must hurry along as fast as possible, for it was Jubilee, and the priests would all be in church at four o’clock.  He also advised me not to stop in any place where a Romish priest resided, “for,” said he, “the convent people have, undoubtedly, telegraphed all over the country giving a minute description of your person, and the priests will all be looking for you.”