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2 and eternity came unbidden before my mind. But I need not trouble my readers with them, for they have little directly to do with my story; they were, however, afterwards indelibly fixed on my memory.

I at length reached the little promontory running into the sea, on which Mont St. Gabriel stands. I climbed over some rocks which bounded the path and made my way up to the picturesque and antique chapel, now ruined. The view was splendid. The blue sea adorned here and there by little ridges of silver foam, the wild rocky coast, the crying of the sea-gulls, and the low roar of the ocean, all tended to awe me, and then to quiet my mind into a calm reverie.

"How beautiful is this world!" I thought. "I wonder if there is anything that can exceed in loveliness such scenes as these, or the glorious Alps, or the splendid rough Cornish coast in a storm, or the lake districts of the north. This world is very beautiful."

I am afraid I must have been giving way to the bad habit I sometimes have when quite alone of talking to myself, for suddenly I was aroused by a slight rustling behind me. I turned, and a very singular-looking person met my gaze. He was a very short fair young