the
elements about us--the loneliness of the place--its isolation and
remoteness from the habitations of men--all this put together, joined
to the feeling of deep devotion in which I was wrapped, had really a
sublime effect upon me. Upon the generality of those who were there,
blind to the natural beauty and effect of the hour and the place, and
viewing it only through the medium of superstitious awe, it was indeed
calculated to produce the notion of something not belonging to the
circumstance and reality of human life.

From this scene we passed to one, which, though not characterized by its
dark, awful beauty, was scarcely inferior to it in effect. It was called
the "Prison," and it is necessary to observe here, that every pilgrim
must pass twenty-four hours in this place, kneeling, without food or
sleep, although one meal of bread and warm water, and whatever sleep he
could get in Petigo with seven in a bed, were his allowance of food and
sleep during the twenty-four hours previous. I must here beg the good
reader's attention for a moment, with, reference to our penance in the
"Prison." Let us consider how the nature of this pilgrimage: it must be
performed on foot, no matter what the distance of residence (allowing
for voyages)--the condition of life--the age or the sex of the pilgrim
may be. Individuals from France, from America, England, and Scotland,
visit it--as voluntary devotees, or to perform an act of penance for
some great crime, or perhaps to atone for a bad life in general. It is
performed, too, in the dead heat of summer, when labor is slack, and the
lower orders have sufficient leisure to undertake it; and, I may add,
when travelling on foot is most fatiguing; they arrive, therefore,
without a single exception, blown and jaded almost to death. The first
thing they do, notwithstanding this, is to commence the fresh rigors of
the station, which occupies them several hours. This consists in what
I have already described, viz., the pleasant promenade upon the stony
spikes around the prison and the "beds;" that over, they take their
first and only meal for the day; after which, as in my own case just
related, they must huddle themselves in clusters, on what is barefacedly
called a bed, but which is nothing more nor less than a beggarman's
shakedown, where the smell, the heat, the filth, and above all, the
vermin, are intolerable to the very farthest stretch of the superlative
degree. As soon as their eyes b