At the abbey, solitude and stillness conspired with the solemn aspect of the pile to impress the mind with religious awe. The dim glass of the high-arched windows, stained with the colouring of monkish fictions, and shaded by the thick trees that environed the edifice, spread around a sacred gloom, which inspired the beholder with congenial feelings. As Julia mused through the walks, and surveyed this vast monument of barbarous superstition, it brought to her recollection an ode which she often repeated with melancholy pleasure, as the composition of Hippolitus. SUPERSTITION AN ODE High mid Alverna's awful steeps, Eternal shades, and silence dwell. Save, when the gale resounding sweeps, Sad strains are faintly heard to swell: Enthron'd amid the wild impending rocks, Involved in clouds, and brooding future woe, The demon Superstition Nature shocks, And waves her sceptre o'er the world below. Around her throne, amid the mingling glooms, Wild--hideous forms are slowly seen to glide, She bids them fly to shade earth's brightest blooms, And spread the blast of Desolation wide. See! in the darkened air their fiery course! The sweeping ruin settles o'er the land, Terror leads on their steps with madd'ning force, And Death and Vengeance close the ghastly band! Mark the purple streams that flow! Mark the deep empassioned woe! Frantic Fury's dying groan! Virtue's sigh, and Sorrow's moan! Wide--wide the phantoms swell the loaded air With shrieks of anguish--madness and despair! Cease your ruin! spectres dire! Cease your wild terrific sway! Turn your steps--and check your ire, Yield to peace the mourning day! She wept to the memory of times past, and there was a romantic sadness in her feelings, luxurious and indefinable. Madame behaved to Julia with the tenderest attention, and endeavoured to withdraw her thoughts from their mournful subject by promoting that taste for literature and music, which was so suitable to the powers of her mind.