own amidst a mass of
those red and angry clouds which prognosticate a night of storm and
tempest. The air is felt to be oppressive and sultry, and the whole
sky is overshadowed with gloom. On such a night the spirit sinks,
cheerfulness abandons the heart, and an indefinable anxiety depresses
it. This impression is not peculiar to man, who, on such occasions,
is only subject to the same instinctive apprehension which is known
to influence the irrational animals. The clouds are gathering in black
masses; but there is, nevertheless, no opening between them through
which the sky is visible. The gloom is unbroken, and so is the silence;
and a person might imagine that the great operations of Nature had been
suspended and stood still. The outlying cattle betake them to shelter,
and the very dogs, with a subdued and timid bark, seek the hearth, and,
with ears and tail hanging in terror, lay themselves down upon it as if
to ask protection from man. On such a night as this we will request the
reader to follow us toward a district that trenches upon the foot of
a dark mountain, from whose precipitous sides masses of gray rock,
apparently embedded in heath and fern, protrude themselves in uncouth
and gigantic shapes. 'Tis true they were not then visible; but we wish
the reader to understand the character of the whole scenery through
which we pass. We diverge from the highway into a mountain road, which
resembles the body of a serpent when in motion, going literally up one
elevation, and down another. To the right, deep glens, gullies, and
ravines; but the darkness with which they are now filled is thick and
impervious to the eye, and nothing breaks the silence about us but the
rush of the mountain torrent over some jutting precipice below us. To
the left all is gloom, as it would be even were there light to guide the
sight, because on that side spreads a black, interminable moor. As it is
we can see nothing; yet as we get along we find that we are not alone.
Voices reach our ears; but they are not, as usual, the voices of mirth
and laughter. These which we hear--and they are not far from us--are
grave and serious; the utterance thick and low, as if those from whom
they proceed were expressing a sense of sympathy or horror. We have now
advanced up this rugged path about half a mile from the highway we
have mentioned, and discovered a light which will guide us to our
destination. As we approach the house the people are increasing in p