Waterbury Democrat

SLEEP IN THEIR COFFINS.
A Strange Sect Who Practice Extraordinary Severities.

In all the world, probably, there is no body of religious enthusiasts whose regimen is so severe as that of the Aubins, of Montreal. Deprived of every suggestion of comfort, they sleep at night not in beds, even of the hardiest sort; not even on a bare board, such as pious monks of the Middle Ages used, but in coffins. These grewsome resting places are not cushioned or even lined, and year in and year out the devotees occupy them, for the betterment of their souls, and a more thorough forgetting of the vanities of the world.

They subsist upon bread and water, and to vary the weird monotony of such living, they spend hours of each day bent in prayer, about an altar in a darkened chapel, their necks laden with chains of great weight. The austerities prescribed by the rules even of the Carmelites nuns are trivial compared with what these women undergo.

This strangest of all religions companies was founded by Dr. Jacques, had among his 1,500 patients, the family of Aubin.

They were persons of good moral standing, but after the disappearance of the smallpox they set about the fulfilment of vows they had made during sickness. Father, mother, and five daughters, they withdrew entirely from the world, and live now in the house of Dr. Jacques, who, himself, is head of the company.

The upper floor of the house is divided into rooms, or cells, bare of carpets, or of furniture, save the unsightly coffins, plain unpainted tables, and tin washbasins. There is not a single article of bedding or of raiment, and no ornamentation except the images to which prayer is said. In the room used for purposes of regular worship, there stands in the shadow of an altar, a post with heavy chains hanging from it.

The prime motive of these recluses is to intercede for the souls of their sisters of the world whom destiny has thrown in the way of temptation. So, when the social season arrives, when parties, balls and festivals are in progress, when the word comes to them from the outside world that the spirit of carnival is abroad, and temptation and danger go hand in hand to waylay and destroy the souls of men and women, then, in the Aubin household, all the rigors and deprivations of monastic life are redoubled and the cloistered family, with their learned preceptor, Dr. Jacques, fast faithfully and spend hours of each day upon their knees in urgent prayer, their necks weighted with the heavy ox-chains, in exaggerated token of humility and self-abasement. Even in the fierce cold of a Canadian winter, they have no fires in their cells.—New York Journal.