asked. "Yes." "Who is he? Can you tell me anything about him?" I could
elicit nothing under these heads. "Whose Son is he?" I then asked. "He
is Mary's Son," was the reply. "Where is Christ?" I inquired. "He is on
the Cross," replied the boy, folding his arms, and making the
representation of a crucifix. "Was Christ ever on earth?" I asked. He
did not know. "Are you aware of anything he ever did?" He had never
heard of anything that Christ had done. I saw that he was thinking of
those hideous representations which are to be seen in all the churches
of Rome, of a man hanging on a cross. That was the Christ of the boys.
Of Christ the Son of the living God,--of Christ the Saviour of
sinners,--and of his death as an atonement for human guilt,--they had
never heard. In a city swarming with professed ministers of the gospel,
these boys knew no more of Christianity than if they had been
Hottentots. I next inquired respecting Mary, and here the boys seemed
more at home. "Who is she?" "She is God's mother." "Where is she?" "She
is in that church," pointing to the church on one side of the
piazza,--the Bocca di Verita, if I mistake not,--before which criminals
are sometimes executed; "and in that," pointing to the church on the
other side of the piazza. "She is here, there, everywhere." "Was Mary
ever on earth?" "Yes," was the answer. "What did she do when here?"
"Oh," replied the little boy, "that is an antique affair: I was not here
then." "Do you go to church?" I asked the eldest boy. "Yes." "Do you
take the sacrament?" "I have taken it four times." I learned afterwards
that the priests are attempting to seize upon the rising generation in
Italy, by compelling all the children from twelve years and upwards to
go to mass. "Do you go to confession?" I next asked. "Yes, I confess."
"Do other boys and girls, your acquaintances, go to confession?" "Yes,
all go," he replied. "We meet the priest in church on Sabbath, and he
tells us when to come and confess." "Well, when you go to confess, what
does the priest ask you?" "He asks me if I steal, and do other bad
actions." "When you confess that you have done a bad action, what then?"
"The first time I do it, the priest pardons me." "If you confess it a
second time, what happens?" "The second time he beats me with a rod."
"Does the priest ask you about anything else?" I inquired. "Yes," he
rejoined; "he asks me about my father and my mother." "What does he ask
you about them?" "He asks