congregation moved in regular train to kiss the feet and weep over them. Our heroine moved with the crowd; all was gentle and decent, and in order. At length, it was her turn to approach this semblance of the dead Christ, and the perfection with which the hue of death and lines of suffering were executed, having removed the dread which she had entertained of desecration, she knelt with feelings more in accordance with the ardent crowd around her, than she could have supposed possible. It was a considerable time before our heroine, in the procession made round the church, arrived at the spot where stood her father, and with him, Dr. Wharton. The General looked with anxiety in her pale exhausted countenance, and drew her hastily through the now dispersing throng into the open air. You are incapable of anything more to-day, Geraldine," said he, " and I regret having exposed you to all that highly-wrought feeling." Geraldine leaned on her father's arm in silence, while, on their way home, he conversed with Dr. Wharton; but, on his again regretting that he had taken her to the preaching and representation of the "Three Hours," she replied, "There was no more feeling-indeed, how can there ever be sufficient for the all-engrossing commemoration of to-day. I was indeed overcome by witnessing the emotion of those around me, but, had not the subject deserved it, this alone would only perhaps have steeled me in insensibility; for, I have ever remarked, that if I see weakness in others, I am so far from sympathising that I feel new strength given me. But, dare I call the honest sensibility, the warm religious sorrow of these ardent Italians, a weakness? ah, no! rather let me strike on my own cold heart.” The General smiled-"God forgive me, then, child, if your heart be cold. But neither of our hearts is so, I humbly trust. Our reserve only is greater, and in this, I think, consists the great difference between the northern and southern nations: the former appear cold, the latter exaggerated. So striking a contrast is there between the Catholics of England and those of Italy, that I much doubt, whether they could live happily together, even with that firmest of all bonds of union, the same dogmas of faith. Now, our countrymen and women, if they be Protestants, never consider this national contrast, and place every apparent extravagance to the score of religion, for they know nothing of Catholicity in their own country, where, from its calm manifestation, it would be of course more acceptable,—at least, less obnoxious." "Yes, indeed," said Dr. Wharton. "National prejudices influence, in a lamentable degree, the judgment, if it deserve the name, which Christians of different countries pass on each other, and which judgment has, of course, been rendered more severe from diversity of creed. But let not the cautious and reserved son of the north, and his ardent and imaginative brother of the south, misjudge and condemn each other. Let the strong powers of reasoning, the independent and laborious spirit of investigation and of endurance, which characterises the former, be manifested without pride or severity; and let those intuitive perceptions of beauty and harmony, those impassioned aspirations towards whatever is lovely in creation or revelation, which distinguish the latter, be ever directed aright, and centre in the giver of those rich gifts: and if the outpouring of the soul into outward acts of devotion, be an irrepressible impulse in the southern Christian, and as such most acceptable to the Being who says, My son, give me thy heart;' yet let these children of a genial sky, in their turn learn to know, that with a different 6 temperament, and a scrupulous dread of exaggeration, piety can exist with intensity, without requiring any vent save that of secret prayer." "Alas!" said Geraldine," when will it again be said,See how these Christians love each other?" When will party spirit cease, and distrust and suspicion melt into love and confidence?" She uttered this with the greater feeling, as she recalled the offensive conduct, during this holy and mournful week, of the British Protestants in Rome, especially during the procession on Maundy Thursday, when the pontiff conveyed the sacred host to the receptacle prepared in the Pauline chapel. Their admission to the private chapel of the holy father, had been a concession, which, even in common decency, not to say courtesy, should have been acknowledged by a respectful demeanour; but, far from this, they had disturbed and insulted, by their levity and ridicule, the whole of the congregation. "I much regret," continued Geraldine to Dr. Wharton, "that the ancient discipline has been discontinued, of dismissing all strangers, even the catechumens, from the church, before the celebration of the mysteries. What can induce the holy father to permit the admission of these idle scoffers?" "Some come to scoff who remain to pray," replied Dr. Wharton. "God Grant," said our heroine, with a sigh," that such may be the result of Protestant intrusion this week upon the sacred mysteries of the Church." But she little thought that in one remarkable instance this had been the case, and that at the very procession on Holy Thursday, when the insulting conduct of his friends was at its height, an impression, sudden as wonderful, was made, never to be effaced from the mind and heart of the chief wit of the party. Yes, to the heart of the classical enthusiast and author, Mr. Ellis, the voice of God had spoken! He had stood immediately behind the file of guards which lined the centre aisle, through which the procession passed, and, as the pontiff advanced, bearing the sacred Host, the expression of awe, of love, of adoration, with which his venerable countenance was illumined, as he bore the hidden Deity— that look-that never-to-be-forgotten look, wrought the conversion of the sceptic. CHAPTER VII. At length the worst is o'er, and thou art laid All still and cold, beneath yon dreary stone, Thy sacred form is gone. Around those lips, where power and mercy hung, The dews of death have clung, The dull earth o'er thee, and thy foes around, Thou sleep'st, a silent corse, in funeral fetters wound. In the evening, Geraldine being invited to hear again the Miserere at the Sistine chapel, accompanied her father thither, and they afterwards drove, with the Abate Zaccaria and Contessa C-, to the hospital Della Trinità de' Pellegrini: an immense building, devoted to the reception of pilgrims of all nations, who during the three last days of the holy week, are gratuitously lodged and fed, while cardinals and nobility of both sexes, in humble piety, give them the primitive welcome, of washing their feet, and waiting on them at supper. Our heroine was permitted to stand a few instants at the half-open door of the male pilgrims, and then ascended, with the Contessa, to the female apartments, where she was greatly pleased to see the holy simplicity with which some of the loveliest of the high-born, offered, and the lowly received, these acts of humility and hospitality. "I have not yet heard what were the impressions of the Signorina," said the Abate, as the party were returning to the palazzo, " on seeing our holy father perform the ceremony of washing the feet of |