402 WILD FLOWEKS OP 



green fields. But now all was fine and fair, the slaty 

 purple-tinted rocks slept upon their glassy declivities, 

 and forebore to roll down in terrific uproar ; the deep 

 beds of the torrents wept only a silver skein among 

 their huge stones, or were several of them quite dry, 

 showing only by bright green patches of Mosses and 

 JungermannicB where water had been, or yet rested 

 hidden within their spongy recesses. The view might 

 be compared to a still scene of early life, when the 

 unclouded prospect has not unmasked its appliances 

 of woe, and when the sources of delight seem as if 

 they would ever remain so, and friends smile and 

 fondly promise to continue attached to us for ever ; 

 till experience, too late, makes us familiar with the 

 stern fact, which no one had cared before to tell us, 

 that the bitter waters of sorrow may overwhelm us 

 from the very same sources whence we had expected 

 a continued flow of delight only. Such, alas, is life ! 

 and so the flood of alienation rushes upon us, over- 

 whelming our fondest wishes, and too often leaving us 

 desolate in the midst of overthrown expectations and 

 the wreck of scattered hopes. Aye, how often is it 

 that the reckless blow that disquiets us comes from a 

 once supposed friendly hand, and then it is felt to be 

 "sharper than a serpent's tooth." And can this lovely 

 picture of bright mountain scenery before me conjure 

 up such unkindly reflections ? Vanish ye baffling 

 unsubstantial ghosts of inverted thought ! let the 

 sunbeam light up the dark vagrant cloud, and the 

 fragrant breath of the heathy air waft it away. 



I am progressing down a mountain stair-case, the 

 deep glen with its opposing escarpment of rocks on 

 my right, my path shelving the precipitous schistose 



