her. From every provident point of view his mother
was so undoubtedly right, that he was not without a sickness of heart in
finding he could shake her.

She had a singular insight into life, considering that she had never
mixed with it. There are instances of persons who, without clear ideas
of the things they criticize have yet had clear ideas of the relations
of those things. Blacklock, a poet blind from his birth, could describe
visual objects with accuracy; Professor Sanderson, who was also blind,
gave excellent lectures on colour, and taught others the theory of ideas
which they had and he had not. In the social sphere these gifted ones
are mostly women; they can watch a world which they never saw, and
estimate forces of which they have only heard. We call it intuition.

What was the great world to Mrs. Yeobright? A multitude whose tendencies
could be perceived, though not its essences. Communities were seen by
her as from a distance; she saw them as we see the throngs which cover
the canvases of Sallaert, Van Alsloot, and others of that school--vast
masses of beings, jostling, zigzagging, and processioning in definite
directions, but whose features are indistinguishable by the very
comprehensiveness of the view.

One could see that, as far as it had gone, her life was very complete on
its reflective side. The philosophy of her nature, and its limitation by
circumstances, was almost written in her movements. They had a majestic
foundation, though they were far from being majestic; and they had a
ground-work of assurance, but they were not assured. As her once elastic
walk had become deadened by time, so had her natural pride of life been
hindered in its blooming by her necessities.

The next slight touch in the shaping of Clym's destiny occurred a few
days after. A barrow was opened on the heath, and Yeobright attended the
operation, remaining away from his study during several hours. In the
afternoon Christian returned from a journey in the same direction, and
Mrs. Yeobright questioned him.

"They have dug a hole, and they have found things like flowerpots upside
down, Mis'ess Yeobright; and inside these be real charnel bones. They
have carried 'em off to men's houses; but I shouldn't like to sleep
where they will bide. Dead folks have been known to come and claim their
own. Mr. Yeobright had got one pot of the bones, and was going to bring
'em home--real skellington bones--but 'twas ordered otherwise. You'll