654 Memoirs of a Bashful Irishmah. [^Djec. 



future made amends for the follies of the past ; when I consider that in 

 time, I might have won myself a name among nations, have been raised, 

 peradventure, to the Peerage, or, as a bishop of tlie established church, 

 have lent a helping hand to my Catholic fellow-countrymen ; when I 

 reflect on all this, I vow and protest I feel every disposition to run stark, 

 staring mad. Nevertheless, ^ven in the depths of my despair, one con- 

 solation remains. " The Lord chasteneth him whom he loveth :" and if 

 this, indeed, be the case, it is some satisfaction for me to reflect that 

 I am Heaven's peculiar care. Possibly, even now — as my master's 

 daughter, a wealthy, estimable, and religious young lady, assures me — I 

 am in training for a cherub, a chrysolite in salvation^ destined to come 

 forth in the fulness of time, and spread my new-born wings to the firm- 

 amentj a blessed butterfly of Paradise. 



THE MUMMIES AT THE CARMELITE COXVENT AT BRUSSELS. 



In the capital of Belgium, between the Porte de Namur and the Porte 

 de Halle, under the ramparts of the town, and contiguous to the palace 

 of the Duke d'Aremberg, once stood the Convent of the Carmelites, or 

 White Friars. The furies of the revolution levelled it with the earth ; 

 and at this moment not a vestige of its walls can be traced. As late, 

 however, as 1810, a small part of the cloisters remained ; but the magni- 

 ficent church was a heap of ruins, over which grew trees, bushes, and 

 thick grass ; here and there a few wild flowers peeping out from the 

 interstices of a massy pedestal, and the broken shaft of a Gothic column. 

 The garden and cemetery may have occupied about six acres of ground. 

 Though situated within the town, a more perfect solitude could not have 

 been selected, surrounded, as it was, with high walls, and effectually 

 screened by lofty elm, beech, and j^ew trees. 



At the jjeriod above mentioned, this romantic enclosure belonged to a 

 friend of mine, Madame Guilleminot,* who, being possessed of consider- 

 able property, had not turned this piece of lanli to any account. During 

 the many years it had been in her hands, not half a dozen persons had 

 visited those premises : the fruit-trees, shrubs, and flowers, all had been 

 neglected ; and when I entered it for the first time, it recalled to my 

 mind the descriptions I had often read of the untrodden virgin soil of the 

 United States — a kind of American landscape in miniature ; and it was 

 with no small difficulty I succeeded in exploring the different recesses of 

 this wild, romantic, and interesting spot. Indeed, I may say, that 

 during eighteen months, I was the sole tenant of the place. jMadame 

 Guilleminot had given me a key of the only gate that remained ; and no 

 one during that period entered it but myself. Scarcely a week passed 

 away without my spending a few hours on this hallowed ground, and 

 ample scope did it afford for meditation on the mutability of human 

 affairs. " Here," thought I, whilst sitting upon some fragment of a pillar, 

 " solemn hymns were chaunted in honour of the Deity, and now the 

 voice of man is never heard within these walls. Here dwelt persons 

 who, prompted by enthusiastic religious sentiments, tired with the follies 

 of life, disappointed in their expectations, crossed in love, or reduced to 

 poverty by ingratitude or treachery, have passed the last days of their 



* Madame Guilleminot is the sister-in-law of General Guilleminot. 



