to the order of affairs established
by their fathers.

One afternoon he and Will went together to the top of the mountain
toward the western end. They had a fair day for a fair sight, and when
Mr Snow looked down on the scene, bounded by the blue hills beyond both
rivers, all other thoughts gave place to feelings of wondering
admiration. Above was a sky, whose tender blue was made more lovely by
the snowy clouds that sailed now and then majestically across it, to
break into flakes of silver near the far horizon.

Beneath lay the valley, clothed in the numberless shades of verdure with
which June loves to deck the earth in this northern climate. There were
no waste places, no wilderness, no arid stretches of sand or stone. Far
as the eye could reach, extended fields, and groves, and gardens,
scattered through with clusters of cottages, or solitary farm-houses.

Up through the stillness of the summer air, came stealing the faint
sound of a distant bell, seeming to deepen the silence round them.

"I suppose the land that Moses saw from Pisgah, must have been like
this," said Mr Snow, as he gazed.

"Yes, the Promised Land was a land of hills, and valleys, and brooks of
water," said Will softly, never moving his eyes from the wonderful
picture. Could they ever gaze enough? Could they ever weary themselves
of the sight? The shadows grew long; the clouds, that had made the
beauty of the summer sky, followed each other toward the west, and rose
in pinnacles of gold, and amber, and amethyst; and then they rose to go.

"I wouldn't have missed _that_ now, for considerable," said Mr Snow,
coming back with an effort to the realisation of the fact that this was
part of the sightseeing that he had set himself. "No, I wouldn't have
missed it for considerable more than that miserable team'll cost," added
he, as he came in sight of the carriage, on whose uncomfortable seat the
drowsy driver had been slumbering all the afternoon. Will smiled, and
made no answer. He was not a vain lad, but it is just possible that
there passed through his mind a doubt whether the enjoyment of his
friend had been as real, as high, or as intense, as his had been all the
afternoon. To Will's imagination, the valley lay in the gloom of its
primeval forests, peopled by heroes of a race now passed away. He was
one of them. He fought in their battles, triumphed in their victories,
panted in the eagerness of the chase. In imagination, he saw the