About the close of February last, a note was sent me from a person signing himself the man who took me to the Almshouse. Soon after I had an interview with Mr. Hilliker, whom I recognised as my first protector in New York, and to whom I owe much—indeed, as I think, my life. He kindly offered to give me his testimony, which follows:—
From the New York Journal of Commerce.
(AFFIDAVIT OF JOHN HILLIKER,)
"City and County of New York, ss.
"John Hilliker, being duly sworn, doth depose and say—that one day early in the month of May, 1835, while shooting near the Third Avenue, opposite the three milestone, in company with three friends, I saw a woman sitting in a field at a short distance, who attracted our attention. On reaching her, we found her sitting with her head down, and could not make her return any answer to our questions. On raising her hat, we saw that she was weeping. She was dressed in an old calico frock, (I think of a greenish colour,) with a checked apron, and an old black bonnet. After much delay and weeping, she began to answer my questions, but not until I had got my companions to leave us, and assured her that I was a married man, and disposed to befriend her.
"She then told me that her name was Maria, that she had been a nun in a nunnery in Montreal, from which she had made her escape, on account of the treatment she had received from priests in that institution, whose licentious conduct she strongly intimated to me. She mentioned some particulars concerning the Convent and her escape. She spoke particularly of a small room where she used to attend, until the physician entered to see the sick, when she accompanied him to write down his prescriptions; and said that she escaped through a door which he sometimes entered. She added, that she exchanged her dress after leaving the nunnery, and that she came to New York in company with a man, who left her as soon as the steamboat arrived. She farther stated, that she expected soon to give birth to a child, having become pregnant in the Convent; that she had no friend, and knew not where to find one; that she thought of destroying her life; and wished me to leave her—saying, that if I should hear of a woman being found drowned in the East River, she earnestly desired me never to speak of her.
"I asked her if she had had any food that day, to which she answered, no; and I gave her money to get some at the grocery of Mr. Cox, in the neighbourhood. She left me, but I afterwards saw her in the fields, going towards the river; and after much urgency, prevailed upon her to go to a house where I thought she might be accommodated, offering to pay her expenses. Failing in this attempt, I persuaded her, with much difficulty, to go the Almshouse; and there we got her received, after I had promised to call and see her, as she said she had something of great consequence which she wished to communicate to me, and wished me to write a letter to Montreal.
"She had every appearance of telling the truth; so much so, that I have never for a moment doubted the truth of her story, but told it to many persons of my acquaintance, with entire confidence in its truth. She seemed overwhelmed with grief, and in a very desperate state of mind. I saw her weep for two hours or more without ceasing; and appeared very feeble when attempting to walk, so that two of us supported her by the arms. We observed also, that she always folded her hands under her apron when she walked, as she has described the nuns as doing in her 'Awful Disclosures.'
"I called at the Almshouse gate several times and inquired for her; but having forgotten half her name, I could not make it understood whom I wished to see, and did not see her until the last week. When I saw some of the first extracts from her book in a newspaper, I was confident that they were parts of her story, and when I read the conclusion of the work, I had not a doubt of it. Indeed, many things in the course of the book I was prepared for from what she had told me.
"When I saw her, I recognised her immediately, although she did not know me at first, being in a very different dress. As soon as she was informed where she had seen me, she recognised me. I have not found in the book any thing inconsistent with what she had stated to me when I first saw her.