and purify; the stream of life becomes snow-white, when dashed against the opposing rocks of adversity. There is an elevation, where among ideas of sublimity, no trifling thought can ever mingle; it is when placed upon an alpine height, we behold the summits of the neighbouring mountains, without observing the valleys that connect them together.—Thou hadst that sacredness Rosamond,—and thou that elevation, Eugenius!
The base of the mountain was surrounded by a morning mist, in which three flitting spirits seemed suspended. It was the reflection of the three travellers,—the timid Rosamond was terrified, and imagined she beheld herself Eugenius thought that that which envelopes the mortal spirit, is only a somewhat denser cloud; — and the child grasped at the vapour, and wished to play with his brother in the mist. One solitary invisible angel of futurity accompanied them through life, and upon the mountain; they were so good, and so like each other, that they required but one. At sunrise the angel opened the book of fate; on one and the same leaf was traced the plan of a three-fold life, each line was a day; and when the angel had examined that day's line, he wept and shut the book for ever.
The feeble travellers still required almost one day for the completion of their journey. The earth crept back into the valley, the heavens rested themselves upon the
