s course, and is itself subject to the immensely more
powerful influence of the sun. And it is thus with character. It is a
law of our nature, as certainly as of the system we inhabit, that the
inferior should yield to the superior, and the lesser owe its guidance
to the greater. I had hitherto wandered on through life almost
unconscious of the existence of this law, or, if occasionally rendered
half aware of it, it was only through a feeling that some secret
influence was operating favourably in my behalf on the common minds
around me. I now felt, however, for the first time, that I had come in
contact with a mind immeasurably more powerful than my own; my thoughts
seemed to cast themselves into the very mould--my sentiments to modulate
themselves by the very tone of his. And yet he was but a russet-clad
peasant--my junior by at least eight years--who was returning from
school to assist his father, an humble tacksman, in the labours of
the approaching harvest. But the law of circumstance, so arbitrary in
ruling the destinies of common men, exerts but a feeble control over
the children of genius. The prophet went forth commissioned by Heaven to
anoint a king over Israel, and the choice fell on a shepherd boy who was
tending his father's flocks in the field.

We had reached a lovely bend of the stream. There was a semicircular
inflection in the steep bank, which waved over us, from base to summit,
with hawthorn and hazle; and while one half looked blue and dark in the
shade, the other was lighted up with gorgeous and fiery splendour by the
sun, now fast sinking in the west. The effect seemed magical. A little
grassy platform that stretched between the hanging wood and the stream,
was whitened over with clothes, that looked like snow-wreathes in the
hollow; and a young and beautiful girl watched beside them.

"Mary Campbell!" exclaimed my companion, and in a moment he was at her
side, and had grasped both her hands in his. "How fortunate, how very
fortunate I am!" he said; "I could not have so much as hoped to have
seen you to-night, and yet here you are! This, Mr. Lindsay, is a loved
friend of mine, whom I have known and valued for years; ever, indeed,
since we herded our sheep together under the cover of one plaid. Dearest
Mary, I have had sad forebodings regarding you for the whole last month
I was in Kirkoswald, and yet, after all my foolish fears, here you are,
ruddier and bonnier than ever."

She was, in truth, a