shores and passing vessels upon the river. The swift gliding motion,
the beautiful and familiar scenery, the sense of freedom from routine
work, and the crisp, pure air, that seemed like a delicate wine, all
combined to form a mystic lever that began to lift his heart out of
the depths of despondency.

A storm had passed away, leaving not a trace. The October sun shone in
undimmed splendor, and all nature appeared to rejoice in its light.
The waves with their silver crests seemed chasing one another in mad
glee. The sailing vessels, as they tacked to and fro across the river
under the stiff western breeze, made the water foam about their blunt
prows, and the white-winged gulls wheeled in graceful circles
overhead. There was a sense of movement and life that was contagious.
Gregory's dull eyes kindled with something like interest, and then he
thought: "The storm lowered over these sunny shores yesterday. The
gloom of night rested upon these waters but a few hours since. Why is
it that nature can smile and be glad the moment the shadow passes and
I cannot? Is there no sunlight for the soul? I seem as if entering a
cave, that grows colder and darker at every step, and no gleam shines
at the further end, indicating that I may pass through it and out into
the light again."

Thus letting his fancy wander at will, at times half-dreaming and
half-waking, he passed the hours that elapsed before the boat touched
at a point in the Highlands of the Hudson, his destination. Making a
better dinner than he had enjoyed for a long time, and feeling
stronger than for weeks before, he started for the place that now, of
all the world, had for him the greatest attraction.

There was no marked change in the foliage as yet, but only a deepening