into a single sleeve, so that they could neither
defend themselves nor assist each other.
They were marched to the lake, flung in,
and when up to their chests in water,
with ropes fastened round their necks, men in
boats dragged them along. This punishment
lasted for about three hours. Sometimes the
boats drifted on shore, and the poor women were
then able to gain their feet for a moment, but
the papa, under whose charge they were at
Miadzioly would then order the boatmen to
row out into the lake, crying, "Drown them
like puppies! drown them all! " They had
these baths is six times, twice a week for three
weeks. They were not allowed to change
their clothes all the night, and thus their old
wounds were poisoned, and opened afresh,
while new ones appeared all over their bodies.
Three nuns were drowned in the baths, and
buried without rites or service by the side of
the lake. At last the punishment was
discontinued, partly because the waters began to
freeze, and partly because the Jews—who
seem to have been always compassionate—
entreated, and petitioned, and agitated the
town, until  the authorities thought it best to
put an end to what was ceasing to be a warning,
and becoming a martyrdom. But seven
of the nuns had become entirely infirm, and
at the end of their second year's residence at
Miadzioly, only four remained of the three
united sisterhoods of Minsk, Witebsk, and
Polosk, who could still use their limbs or
work. The rest were either blind or crippled.
During the last year, two nuns died; one
suffocated by a badly acting stove, which they
were allowed sometimes to use, and the
second was frozen to death in the forest, when
sent out to gather tire wood.

In March eighteen hundred and forty-
five, they received warning from a friend, a
priest of their own communion, who told them
that they were all to be sent off to Siberia, and
who advised them to make their escape if
possible. A good opportunity presented
itself at this time; for the birthday of the
proto-papa Skrykin was approaching, when
the whole convent would probably be given
up to drunkenness and excess. So it
happened; and on the night of the first of April
—when guards, deacons, nuns, and priests
were all lying drunk and incapable—the
mother Makrena and three of her nuns made
their escape from the convent, having first
filed off their irons. They parted beneath
the convent walls, giving each other rendez-
vous at a house where lived some sisters of
another order; and here the reverend mother
and one of the nuns did meet; but their hosts
showed so much uneasiness at harbouring
such guests, that the poor women took
to flight again, each in different directions.
After enduring great hardships and
privations, Makrena arrived at Posen, where
she presented herself at a convent of the
Sisters of Charity; and where, on the four-
teenth of August, eighteen hundred and forty-
five, her depositions on oath were taken before
S. Kramarkiewicz, and the " Mediczinee Rath
Herr," S. Jagielski , in the presence of the
chaplain of the convent, Albin Thinet.
These depositions, signed with the name and
sealed with the seal of the Archbishop of
Gresna and Posen, attested also by the
imperial police of Posen, are now in our
possession. Count Dzialynska, a Polish
gentleman, certifies to the reception of the
reverend mother in his chateau at Kornik, on
her way through the grand duchy of Posen
to Rome by way of Paris. Count Dzialynska
says: " The abbess gave me the history of her
lengthened sufferings; the truthful character
of her relation, the persons whom she named
to me, and other circumstances which my
position allowed me to appreciate, inspired
me with the most absolute faith in her words.
She showed me her head, which bore on the
top of the skull—at the left side, I believe—a
large depression, covered with a newly-formed
skin. The cicatrice exactly resembled those of
severe sabre-cuts: it was nearly an inch
broad, and in length equivalent to the half
of the last joint of the little finger. Her walk
was feeble (chancelante), and the superioress
(who accompanied her) assured me that her
legs bore the marks of her fetters." This
certificate we have seen.

The first person who published the story of
the Abbess, was a little too hurried to be quite
accurate. Instead of at Minsk, he placed this
convent at Kowna. This the Russian
government made a great point of, and denied
energetically—with truth, as to the mere
locality: with unblushing falsehood as to every
thing else. But we have the deposition on
oath of a professor at Posen, Jean Rymarkiewicz,
who asserts that he was one of a
hundred prisoners lodged for a whole winter
in the Basilian convent at Minsk; and
that the nuns who had been driven out
to an outhouse, to make room for the
prisoners, " procured comforts for them, both
in food and clothing." Finally, we have the
account of an English Protestant lady, who
saw and conversed with the mother Makrena
in February, eighteen hundred and forty-
eight, in the convent of the Santa Trinita at
Rome. At that time she was still suffering;
but vigorous, stout-hearted, energetic, and
determined as ever. To this lady she gave
some curious details not published; one of
her escape through the gates of the frontier
town. Unprovided with a passport, she was
sure of being stopped, and if stopped,
discovered. A herd of cattle were passing, and
the Abbess hid herself among them, passing
through on all fours unperceived. Before
she had thus escaped from the Russian
territory, she went one day to church, where
she heard her description given in the
sermon; for the government set a large
price on these poor fugitives, whose escape
and freedom of speech might bring more
ugly things to light. After service, she