which she has already cast over his mind.  Although there could not be less than two hundred people, young and old, boys and girls, men and women, the hale and the sickly, the blind and the lame, all climbing to gain the top with as little delay as possible, yet was there scarcely a sound, certainly not a word, to be heard among them.  For my part, I plainly heard the palpitations of my heart, both loud and quick.  Had I been told that the veil of eternity was about to be raised before me at that moment, I could scarcely have felt more intensely.  Several females were obliged to rest for some time, in order to gain both physical and moral strength—­one fainted; and several old men were obliged to sit down.  All were praying, every crucifix was out, every bead in requisition; and nothing broke a silence so solemn but a low, monotonous murmur of deep devotion.

As soon as we ascended the hill, the whole scene was instantly before us:  a large lake, surrounded by an amphitheatre of mountains, bleak, uncomfortable, and desolate.  In the lake itself, about half a mile from the edge next us, was to be seen the “Island,” with two or three slated houses on it, naked and un-plastered, as desolate-looking almost as the mountains.  A little range of exceeding low hovels, which a dwarf could scarcely enter without stooping, appeared to the left; and the eye could rest on nothing more, except a living mass of human beings crawling slowly about.  The first thing the pilgrim does when he gets a sight of the lake, is to prostrate himself, kiss the earth, and then on his knees offer up three Paters and Aves, and a Creed for the favor of being permitted to see this blessed place.  When this is over, he descends to the lake, and after paying tenpence to the ferry-man, is rowed over to the Purgatory.

When the whole view was presented to me, I stood for some time to contemplate it; I cannot better illustrate the reaction which, took place in my mind, than by saying that it resembles that awkward inversion which a man’s proper body experiences when, on going to pull something from which he expects a marvellous assistance, it comes with him at a touch, and the natural consequence is, that he finds his head down and his heels up.  That which dashed the whole scene from the dark elevation in which the romance of devotion had placed it was the appearance of slated houses, and of the smoke that curled from the hovels and the prior’s residence.  This at once brought me back to humanity:  and the idea of roasting meat, boiling pots, and dressing dinners, dispossessed every fine and fearful image which had floated through my imagination for the last twelve hours.  In fact, allowing for the difference of situation, it nearly resembled John’s Well, or James’s Fair, when beheld at a distance, turning the slated houses into inns, and the hovels into tents.  A certain idea, slight, untraceable, and involuntary, went over my brain on that occasion, which, though