editative minds are led to reflection. Down the
deep valley, where the clear trout-stream eddied along, while the
leafy chestnut-trees threw their shadows over the water; over the
rich pasture-lands, where the spotted cattle roamed; high up the blue
mountains, whose snowy summits mingled with the clouds,--Davis wandered
with his eyes, and felt, he knew not why or how, a something of calming,
subduing effect upon a brain racked with many a scheme, wearied with
many a plot.

As he gazed down upon that fair scene where form and color and odor
were blended into one beauteous whole, a struggling effort of fancy sent
through his mind the question, "Is this, after all, the real prize of
life? Is this peaceful existence worth all the triumphs that we strive
and fight for?" And then came the thought, "Could this be lasting, what
would a nature like mine become, thus left in rust and disuse? Could I
live? or should I enjoy life without that eternal hand-to-hand conflict
with my fellow-men, on which skill and ready wit are exercised?" He
pondered long over this notion, nor could he satisfy himself with any
conclusion.

He thought he could remember a time when he would thoroughly have liked
all this,--when he could have taken leave of the busy world without one
regret, and made the great race of life a mere "walk over;" but now that
he had tasted the poisonous fascination of that combat, where man is
pitted against man, and where even the lust of gain is less stimulating
than a deadly sense of jealous rivalry, it was too late--too late! How
strange, too, did it seem to him, as he looked back upon his wild and
stormy life, with all its perils and all its vicissitudes, to think
that an existence so calm, so uneventful, and so safe, could yet be
had,--that a region existed where craft could find no exercise, where
subtlety might be in disuse! It was to him like a haven that he was
rejoiced to know,--a harbor whose refuge, some one day or other, he
would search out; but there was yet one voyage to make,--one grand
venture,--which, if successful, would be the crowning fortune of his
life!

The sharp crack, crack of a postilion's whip started him from his
musings, and, looking up, he saw a post-carriage approaching at full
speed. He waved his hat as the carriage came near for the men to draw
up, and the next moment Lizzy Davis was in her father's arms. He kissed
her twice, and then, holding her back, gazed with proud delight at her
b