The fog below was condensing very fast. From the North-Western horizon black clouds were rising behind masses of foaming white vapor. The air was still and oppressive, and from all around came a faint, low moaning sound, as if nature cowered and trembled before the coming of the terrible “storm king.” The fog was now rolling down and gathering into clouds below them—revealing the majestic features of the landscape, mountains, vales and forests, rocks, glens and waterfalls, in wild and magnificent confusion—all wearing now a savage and gloomy aspect under the shadow of the coming storm. Captain Clifton’s eye had been constantly on the alert in hope of discovering some mountain cabin, which might shelter them from the fury of the tempest, but as yet his search was unsuccessful—no human dwelling even of the humblest description was to be seen. At length the attention of the travellers was attracted by the faint tingling of a bell—then by the bleating of sheep—and then from the deep clouded glen at their right, sprung up into their path a bell-wether followed by two—five—ten—a whole flock of sheep; and driven by a girl on a pony; a little coarse, sun-burned girl, in a boy’s coarse straw hat and a homespun gown, riding on a little rough-coated, wiry, mountain pony. “A shepherdess, by all that is romantic,” exclaimed Fairfax, vaulting aside to let the sheep pass. Then springing to the side of the rough-coated pony, he doffed his hat to the rider and said— “My good girl—for the love of Providence, will you tell us where we can find shelter from the storm?” The child raised her fine eyes to the stranger’s face with the look of a startled fawn—and dropped them again instantly. Fairfax repeated his question. The child stole another furtive glance at the fine gentleman in the very fine uniform, and then at her own coarse raiment, and blushed deeply. But before Fairfax could reiterate his request, she said, quietly— “Grandfather’s cabin is not far off, if you and the other gentleman will come with me.” “With great pleasure—and ten thousand thanks, my dear little girl. Be so good as to lead the way.” The flock of sheep had gone on before. The girl put her pony in motion, and the gentlemen followed—Mr. Fairfax addressing all his conversation to his little companion; and Captain Clifton riding on in silence and abstraction. The sky was darkening very fast, and great single drops of rain occasionally falling. They quickened their pace, and after riding briskly several hundred yards, came to the head of a glen, deep down in which was seen a small, lone cabin. At this instant the sheet lightning glared from horizon to horizon, followed by a report as of exploded and falling rocks, and then the rain came down in a deluge. The darkness was so dense now as to hide their way. The girl jumped from her pony, and giving him a little slap that sent him travelling down the path, went up to the head of Clifton’s horse and said, shyly—