clearness the dark mountains of Morven were outlined with a softness
as of black velvet. The yacht rested on perfectly calm waters,
shining like polished steel,--and the warm stillness of the summer
night was deliciously soothing and restful. Our captain and one or
two of the sailors were about on duty, and I sat in the stern of the
vessel looking up into the glorious heavens. The tapering bow-sprit
of the 'Diana' pointed aloft as it were into a woven web of stars,
and I lost myself in imaginary flight among those glittering unknown
worlds, oblivious of my material surroundings, and forgetting that
despite the splendid evidences of a governing Intelligence in the
beauty and order of the Universe spread about them every day, my
companions in the journey of pleasure we were undertaking together
were actually destitute of all faith in God, and had less perception
of the existing Divine than the humblest plant may possess that
instinctively forces its way upward to the light. I did not think of
this,--it was no use thinking about it as I could not better the
position,--but I found myself curiously considering the story Mr.
Harland had told about his college friend at Oxford. I tried to
picture his face and figure till presently it seemed as if I saw
him,--indeed I could have sworn that a man's shadowy form stood
immediately in front of me, bending upon me a searching glance from
eyes that were strangely familiar. Startled at this wraith of my own
fancy, I half rose from my chair--then sank back again with a laugh
at my imagination's too vivid power of portrayal. A figure did
certainly present itself, but one of sufficient bulk to convince me
of its substantiality. This was the captain of the 'Diana,' a
cheery-looking personage of a thoroughly nautical type, who,
approaching me, lifted his cap and said:

"That's a wonderfully fine yacht that has just dropped anchor behind