THE BREAKING UP OF THE PARTY. 381 



ever. Then, a^ain, the time of the year in 

 which such partings must take place is quite 

 in union with these feelings. Beautiful as 

 it may be in itself, autumn is a saddening 

 season. The days are closing in, the leaves 

 are beginning to turn, and though they may 

 not vet have lost one shade of their beautv, 

 though that beauty be even heightened by 

 the variety of their colouring, yet the pre- 

 valent idea suggested is that of decav and 

 death, and, be the colouring of the landscape 

 as brilliant as it may, the colouring of the 

 mind is sombre and subdued. 



It was with something of these feelings 

 that the Captain closed his sketch-book for 

 the last time, and, taking one farewell view 

 of the Rose Isle Falls as seen through the 

 high arch of Belleek Bridge, turned slowly 

 and reluctantly from the river's bank, and 

 ascended the winding path which led to the 

 village street. 



Before the door of the little inn, and looking 

 disproportionately large as compared with it, 

 stood a roomy, well-appointed, comfortable 

 English chariot, drawn by four horses, and 

 fitted with every appliance and convenience 

 which art could execute or imagination 



