On leaving this holy Sanctum, we passed a spring which had been tapped to make a fountain. This was known as St. Anne's fountain, and the water was supposed to possess great curative qualities. I could not believe in all this sort of "holy rot," it was getting too strong for me, but Sister Rita took a small bottle of the water which she carried throughout the remainder of the trip.
Next we looked in the basement of the church, which was fitted up very much like the basements of our large department stores, where all kinds of "holy" articles were for sale, everything from expensive statues and priest's vestments to hundreds of devotional and superstitious trinkets of the Romish belief.
There were thousands of people from the surrounding country at this village that day, as it was one of the periodical pilgrimages to the St. Anne Basilica.
Returning to Montreal we witnessed the grand processional parade of the French Canadian people celebrating their National holiday, the Feast of St. John the Baptist. This celebration, instead of being a civil affair, seemed to be more of an ecclesiastical show, with all the various societies and clubs of the church parading in all the pomp and glittering raiment characteristic of the Church of Rome. It seemed to me that it was more for the aggrandizement of the church than for the kindling of patriotism in the hearts of the citizens.
In Quebec, Joliette, and other cities and towns, we could neither see nor hear anything of interest except the greatness of the rich churches, the halls and pavilions for the celebration of festival and saint's days and nunneries, and to admire the self-sacrificing spirit of the French Canadian people for the Romish superstition. Of course, the beauties of nature were very grand at that time of the year, and we enjoyed it to a certain extent, as much probably, as a sister could.
Thus seven weeks were spent in Canada and we both rejoiced in shaking off the feeling of morbid depression of Romish domination even though the trip was supposed to be one of pleasure.
In returning to the States, at St. Albans, on the state line, the trainman announced "twenty minutes for lunch." Sister Rita and myself hurriedly ordered some clam-chowder. In a few minutes it was served, and we had just begun to eat it, when we heard "all aboard." We had a forty-cent laugh, minus the stew, and a run for the train.
We stopped at Burlington, Vermont, at Niagara Falls, Buffalo, Albany, New York City, Philadelphia, and Atlantic City. At Atlantic City, Sister Rita took sick, so we went to Washington, D. C., to the Providence Hospital which was conducted by the Sisters of Charity whose Mother House was still in France.
In two weeks Sister Rita had sufficiently recovered to continue our trip. We were determined to see what was dearest to our hearts in all this trip—Washington's Tomb. We went as close as we could to the tomb, knelt down and touched the cement floor inside the vault with our hands, in feeling of gratitude for liberty to our country, even though we were bound to the government of the Pope of Rome. For just after our visit to priest-ridden Montreal, we were surely thankful for the liberty enjoyed in this country, and we could see that it was this liberty that saved us from a greater hell on earth than we were living.
We visited Washington's Monument, the Soldiers Home, the White House, the Capitol Building and various other administration and government buildings.