"We, ourselves, who were expanded into Brobdignags in size, saw the gulf into which we were to enter and be lost. I almost shuddered when my turn came, but there was no eluding my fate ; one side of my face was veiled, and in a moment the whole had passed like a dream. An instant before, and we were the inhabitants of a 'gorgeous palace,' but it was the 'baseless fabric of a vision,' and now there was left 'not a wreck behind.' "

As a summer shower passes over the plain below, the eftect at the Mountain House is sometimes truly gi'and, even when the lightning is not seen or the thunder heard. A young woman sitting at tlie side of the writer when this page was penned, and who had recently visited that eyrie, recorded her vision and impressions on the spot. "The whole scene before us," she says, " was a vast panorama, constantly varying and changing. The blue of the depths and distances -- clouds, mountains, and shadows -- was such that the perception entered into our very souls. How shall I describe the colour? It was not mazarine, because there was no blackness in it ; it was not sunlit atmosphere, because there was no white brightness in it ; and yet there was a sort of hidden, beaming brilliancy,

THE HUDSON.

that completely absorbed our eyes and hearts. It was not the blue of water, because it was not liquid or crystal-like ; it was something as the calm,