The day had been showery; drops sparkled upon the leaves, and pattered down on the boat as she passed beneath the hanging boughs; light clouds were speeding across the clear blue heavens, and as the sun shone out a fairy-like rainbow lay along the hill-side. With a rustling sound the boat cut through the placid water, and for a time none other broke the silence; the exquisite peace and beauty of the scene cast a spell upon the party who were passengers on board, and, different as were the various tones of mind, one feeling seemed now to pervade the group. During this pause, let us examine the figures composing it. That active well-formed man, with good sense and merriment in his clear kindly eye, and about his firm mouth, is Arthur Hardy. His early life of laborious self-denial, in support of dependent young brothers and sisters, has been rewarded with success and present prosperity. The graceful lounging figure beside him, whose handsome features are clouded by such a look of inward dissatisfaction, is Edmund Bayntun, the luxurious and self-indulgent course of whose days lacks the stimulus of any object to rouse his faculties, brighten his eye, and dispel the dreamy gloom now habitual to his manner. He and Hardy were school-fellows, and have unexpectedly met, to their great mutual pleasure. Edmund has just been introduced to Mrs Arthur Hardy and her pretty and rather romantic little sister, Helen Grey, and has been persuaded to join them in a visit they are about to pay to a hospitable Highland friend, instead of continuing his languid solitary wanderings. He and Hardy were soon agreeably engaged in talking over early recollections and subsequent events; and the genuine kindness and lively good sense of the whole party tended considerably to overcome Bayntun's moody feelings, and dissipate the somewhat peevish melancholy in which he usually indulged.