The following clipping, which is reproduced verbatim from the Cincinnati Enquirer of Tuesday, July 9, 1912, tells the story of the thrilling escape of Louise Faag, Cora Harp and Mary Hauck from the convent of 'Good Shepherd' in Carthage, in this city at the midnight hour. Later in this story the reader will learn that perhaps more than any other happening in this city for years this event has carried in its train a series of circumstances, all of which together as exposed and exhibited in this story constitute a powerful arraignment of the evils of Cincinnati Catholicism;

"After facing death to escape from the Good Shepherd convent at Carthage Sunday night, three girls had their hard-earned liberty suddenly cut short yesterday

morning when they were seen by Juvenile Court Officer Miss Emma Utz, who recognized the clothing worn by one of the girls as the uniform used in the convent. The girls had made a rope of bed sheets and escaped from a third story window at the institution. The hands of all three were badly burned by sliding down the make-shift cord, while two of the girls received painful injuries by dropping from the end of the rope, which hung 15 feet above the ground.

"The girls are Louise Faag, 17, of Dayton, Ohio; Cora Harp, 17, also of Dayton, Ohio, and Mary Hauck, 17, of this city. The Faag girl stated that her father is a doctor and that her parents separated several years ago, the mother going to her former home in San Francisco, Cal. The girl remained with her father before the Juvenile Court in Dayton on the charge that she was incorrigible and stayed out nights.

She was committed to the Good Shepherd convent for one year, she said, but has been there 18 months. The girl said that her father had left Dayton and that her mother had written to her saying that Mr. Faag was going to San Francisco and that he and her mother would become reconciled. Her parents are Presbyterians.

Cora Harp was committed to the convent from Dayton eight months ago. Her mother is a widow and lives on Richards street, Dayton. The girl said that her mother and she are both Methodists. The Hauck girl's parents are Catholics and the girl has been in the charge of the Juvenile Court for the past four years. She has escaped from the convent three times before.

When the girls were seen by Miss Utz they were walking through Clifton. Two of them were limping badly and seemed to be injured, while the clothing of

all three was bedraggled. Miss Utz secured the assistance of the Eighth District police and the girls were taken to the Juvenile Court place of detention. There it was found that Louise Faag was suffering from a badly sprained knee and ankle, while the Harp girl had one ankle sprained and her elbows badly bruised. The girls said that they sustained their injuries by dropping to the ground after sliding down to the end of their improvised rope.

The girls each told remarkable tales of alleged cruel treatment and beatings they claimed they were subjected to at the convent, and declared that it was because of this and the hard work they were compelled to do that they risked their lives in order to escape. As the Juvenile Court here has no jurisdiction over any one committed to the institution by another court, the girls were turned over to the convent again, but it was found that the Faag girl was unable to walk, and Mrs. Cora Swett, matron of the Juvenile Court, refused to allow her to be removed from the place of detention until she had recovered the use of her limbs, the sprains being of a serious nature.

"The Faag girl declares that the commitment was for but one year and that she was entitled to discharge eight months ago. She will endeavor to communicate with her mother in San Francisco and, if possible, have her secure her release "from the convent."---Cincinnati Enquirer, Tues., July 9, 1912.

At the instance of the matron of the Juvenile Court, Louise Faag was sent to the city hospital. But from there she was railroaded secretly and without delay, back to the convent,---the publicity given the matter not only by the Enquirer but also by The Cincinnati Post, together with the conscience that makes cowards of all evil doers, having so frightened her taskmasters that they were getting extremely cautious.

My own personal inspection of the house of Good Shepherd at Carthage in this city proved to be extremely interesting. This convent is located on a commanding hill and is surrounded by one hundred and sixty-five acres of good Ohio land. The convent proper is composed of some fifteen buildings which are surrounded by a high, strong board fence. While we are given to understand that the 'sisters' of the convent of "Good Shepherd" are very poor financially---in fact I have been told by them several times that their order was heavily in debt---still this convent is building one of the most magnificent cathedrals in this section of the country, the estimated cost is $75,000.00, but the 'sister superior' told me that she expected the actual cost would approximately $100,000.00

For the purpose of this story, I must omit at this time a detailed description of this immense and fateful institution. The important thing that I desire to bring before you at this time in this story is my interview with the girls who escaped. During this visit to the convent at Carthage I had the pleasure of the company of my very good friend, Rev. John A. Herget, the fearless and beloved Pastor of the great Ninth Street Baptist church, of this city, where General Miles and Rev. Herget is vitally interested in this question as to whether America shall be "dominantly Catholic" or not, and he has publicly taken his stand in no uncertain words against this terrible domination. It might be well to mention the fact that I took upon myself the responsibility of introducing Rev. Herget simply as "My friend, Mr. Herget, who is interested in charity." The introduction which I had previously secured from certain unnamable sources opened the door before us like magic. Truly, the

ways of the staff correspondent of The Menace are past finding out!

During our tour of the many buildings and the various points of interest accompanied by the 'Sister Superior' and her companion (another of the white-robed nuns) we were shown into the school room reserved for the girls ranging from fifteen to eighteen years of age. Previously the 'Sister Superior' had mentioned in our conversation the girls who ran away and as we entered this room she said, "Mr. _____, this is the class to which Louise Faag and Cora Harp belong, the girls who ran away, you know."

While your correspondent succeeded in betraying only a passing interest in this remark, yet this same little remark acted like an electric shock and I became very much awake---here Fate seemed to be playing directly into our hands, for at last I was to see the most talked of girl, perhaps in all Cincinnati. As is customary, on our entrance, all the girls in the room stood up and greeted us in unison, saying, "Good afternoon," and remained standing until we were seated. Then at the suggestion of the 'Mother Superior' they sang for us and one very intelligent girl recited.

I was seated just beside the "Sister Superior,' a very pleasant-faced, courteous, middle-aged lady. Leaning toward me she asked, "Would you like to speak to Louise Faag or Cora Harp---the girls who ran away? Because if you do, we want you to feel at perfect liberty to talk with them, or ask anything you wish." 'Sister,' saId she, turning to the 'sister' in charge of the room, 'please have Louise and Cora come forward and stand just here before the gentlemen."

In a moment two girls came forward and stood before us, dressed in their pitifully plain little blue gingham uniforms of slavery. Fearing to betray too much interest, after one long, searching glance at

each of the girls I turned to the 'sister' and said, "Oh, no, I don't believe I care to speak to these girls or ask them anything just now."

However, as we were leaving this building, just as we had paused in front of the entrance I turned carelessly to the 'Sister Superior' and said, "By the way, I believe after all if it is not imposing upon your courtesy that I would like to talk with Louise Faag, for you know she told some "awfully sensational things, at least the story in the paper was so awfully sensational that I would just like to satisfy my own mind about the matter."

"Certainly," said the 'mother Superior' (unconsciously starting the suprise party of her life), "I will have her brought out here and you can talk with her and with Cora Harp with perfect freedom." My heart rather hurt as I saw the pitiful little procession coming toward me a few moments afterward. The girls, followed by the 'sister' in charge, were brought out like two little prisoners and lined up before me as though I were some inquisitor in whose hands their fate might lie. And as I thought of you, the Menace army more than a quarter of a million strong, who are now reading these lines, the thought came "Who knows? Perhaps 'tis true; perhaps through your work not only these but thousands of others---girl slaves of the convent system---may one day be freed by the power of The Menace."

Louise Faag is a seventeen-year-old girl, of medium size, with dark eyes, a more than ordinarily good face, a high and intellectual forehead, with rather dark hair. She has a way of looking you straight in the eye when she speaks to you and something about her manner and voice carried to me a powerful conviction that she was telling the truth. She was standing before me now and there was an embarrassing silence as I

coldly looked at her. Then I said: "Louise Faag, why did you tell those dreadful stories to the reporters about these, good, kind 'sisters,' who seem to have sheltered you and to have given you a home?"

"Indeed, Sir," she said, "I told nothing but the truth---all that I told is true---I don't know what was printed and I am not to blame for that, but I just told the facts!"

"But why did you run away?" I asked.

"Because I wanted to go to my mother," she said, "my mother had sent for me."

"Where is your mother?" I asked.

"She lives in Richmond, which is in the southern part of San Francisco, with my grandmother."

"Where is your father?" I asked.

"I don't know, sir," she said, "he and mamma are separated."

During this little conversation the three nuns who were standing by us had said nothing, but now the sister in charge of this particular house said, "Why, Louise, how can you talk so? I remember the letter from your mother, and she said you were better off than any one in the family and that she had no place for you, and you know, Louise, that you promised me that you would stay here a year longer, until you could be 'baptized' and 'make' your first communion." I had noticed that Louise was wearing a cheap metal cross at her throat, and I said, "Louise, if you have gone into this church and if you are staying here of your own free will, and if you made this 'sister' such a promise why did you run away?" "Because," she said, "just as I told you before, I WANT TO GET OUT OF HERE, and I had intended to work and get money enough to pay my fare out to San Francisco."

The 'Sister Superior' said smilingly, pointing to a second story window above us at the corner of the

building just below the roof, "I wish you would notice this window, that is the 'third story window' from which the paper said the girls jumped." "Louise," I asked, "is that the window from which you escaped?" "No, sir," she said, "'Sister Superior' has made a mistake, that is one window in my room, just around the corner is the other window from which we climbed and it is three stories there because there is a bank on this side of the house which is cut away on that side just behind that high board fence there." I said, "I am very sorry that you would talk this way and try to give me the impression that the 'Sister Superior' is not telling the truth!" (?)

The other girl, Cora Harp, stood in silence and seemed to be contended to let Louise be the spokesman. Cora Harp is rather stockily built, just a round-faced, good natured school-girl. The third of the girls who escaped, Mary Hauck, was sent away from the convent and a home has been found for her. We will produce her statement if possible in a later issue.

"I believe that is all," I said, " and if you girls will be just as good as you can I know that you will be very happy." We passed on down the pathway going back to the main building, accompanied by our two white-robed conductors. As we stepped upon the brick walk leading to the main building it was late in the afternoon---birds were singing in the trees and slanting sunshine filled all the valley's below us with the golden beauty of summer---far away in the depths of the huge building I heard a woman's voice pitched high, chanting in a monotone a litany, and all down the pathway that voice some way followed me and seemed to haunt me, that weird song of the unseen singer. A procession of white-robed nuns met us and passed, the leader carrying aloft a tall cross of gold which glittered and blazed in the sunshine---and they too were chanting softly. It was, indeed, a beautiful

sight, and like all that we had see, well arranged and keenly calculated to impress us with the beauty and sanctity of life in a convent.

But, Oh, the toil, the sweat, the tears, the cries of agony that God's little girl-children have wrung from them under the shadow of this terrible cross!

And so again we entered the reception hall, that strange, large room, divided in half by a wall of lattice work, in which there are four or five little sliding windows---the only place where mothers or loved ones from the outside world may ever see or speak to the hapless girl in the grip of the convent. This is so arranged that the mother or father or loved one or friend from the outside world sits upon one side of the partition and speaks through the lattice-work to the inmate who sits on the other side with a nun close by her side. Here we sat down and rested a few moments, the 'sisters' graciously brought us milk fresh from their own dairy and ice water and lemonade, and talked very interestingly of their work and of the institution.

And so we came away. I brought away with me, in memory, many pictures from behind these strange walls; but some way amongst them all I bring you one that is more pitiful than the others---that picture of Louise, the girl who dared escape, and who for a few short hours was free until the great hand of Rome reached out and clutched her again and drew her back behind the walls---to what?

Oh! Menace army of America, untold thousands in numbers, with your resources, with your strength, with your own happy homes, perhaps unbroken; in the name of Him who blessed the little children, what you say about these conditions that we are exposing to you counts for very little---the vital question is WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT ALL?