church; while the Protestant church also, apparently, is falling to pieces. They are besides imposed upon by the positive tone and security of many Catholics, and for the rest, as a new convert said to me: “it is so convenient to avoid beating one's brains in the search after truth, and to be able to leave all solicitude on this score to others, and to believe on their word.”
“Yes, it may be well enough for all such as love convenience, but for them who love the truth?”——
“I do not know of any Christian church!” exclaimed Sœur Geneviève, yesterday, in her fervor against me, who had used this expression, “I know only the Catholic, for it is the only true church!”
April 16th.—Sœur Geneviève is really a good woman, and has such a burning zeal, that I believe she would be willing to die if she could convert me to “the only saving church;” and the truth is, that in so doing—according to the Catholic teaching—she would have acquired for herself an immortal rank in the kingdom of heaven. But her enthusiastic character leads her to forget both sense and moderation. Every time she enters my room, especially in the evening, I am obliged to prepare myself for a regular storm. She talks incessantly; does not listen to what I reply, or does not trouble herself about it; argues, declaims, exhorts, conjures, and prophecies my exaltation—which would be “colossal”—if I would but be converted to the Catholic church, and bend my knee in confession to a priest;—or my humiliation, which will be that of pure “annihilation,” perfect “reprobation,” if I reject the grace which is now offered to me, and
